The air in the Chamber of Secrets was impossibly cold. The silence that wrapped around the place felt ancient, weighted with centuries of buried secrets and serpentine whispers. Harry walked cautiously, wand raised, heart hammering in his chest as he passed through the massive stone hallway, carved with twisted serpents and crumbling arches.
The echo of his footsteps followed him until he reached the heart of the Chamber.
There, lying still on the damp stone floor, was Ginny Weasley.
Harry dropped to his knees beside her. "Ginny? Ginny, wake up!"
But her eyes remained closed, her skin pale, her breathing shallow to the point of being almost undetectable.
From behind one of the stone columns, a voice slithered through the darkness.
"She won't wake. Not yet."
Harry spun, wand ready. A boy stepped out of the shadows—tall, pale, his features eerily familiar.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded.
The boy smiled. "My name is Tom Riddle."
Harry blinked. "You're the one from the diary."
Riddle inclined his head. "Very good. And you must be Harry Potter. I've heard so much about you."
"What do you mean she won't wake? What have you done to her?"
Tom's expression was serene, unbothered. "Nothing she didn't allow. She poured her heart into that diary, Harry. All her secrets, her fears. Her soul. It was... intoxicating."
Harry stepped between Ginny and Tom, jaw tight. "You're a memory. You can't hurt her."
Tom chuckled softly. "A memory, yes. But memories can be powerful. Especially when they feed on life. I've grown stronger, Harry. Strong enough to manifest. Strong enough to live again."
And then he said it.
"I am Lord Voldemort."
Harry's breath caught in his throat.
Tom raised his wandless hand and the Chamber began to tremble. Stone cracked. Water trickled from above. And then, the hiss.
A horrible, low sound that scraped across Harry's nerves.
Tom spoke in Parseltongue, and the mouth of the stone statue of Salazar Slytherin creaked open. A massive, green-scaled serpent slithered out, its yellow eyes glowing like twin suns. The basilisk.
---
Above, in the castle...
Lennon sat at the top of the Astronomy Tower, her knees drawn to her chest. The lake shimmered in the moonlight below. She knew what was happening now. The weight of it had been building for days. And Mattheo's words still echoed in her mind.
The diary. The Horcrux. His father.
Footsteps padded behind her, and she didn't have to turn to know it was Mattheo.
"He's in the Chamber," she said quietly.
Mattheo came to sit beside her.
"Yeah. And so is my father."
Lennon looked at him. "Not really. Not all of him."
"Enough. Enough to finish what he started."
There was a rawness to his voice that she rarely heard. Vulnerability beneath the hardened edges.
"I hate him," Mattheo whispered. "And every time I see what he's done to this world... to people like Ginny..."
Lennon reached out, gently brushing his hand. "You're not him."
Mattheo met her gaze. "Aren't I? That diary was a part of me. It felt like it belonged to me. Sometimes I wonder if that darkness is still inside me."
She didn't flinch. "Then prove it isn't. By helping destroy him. Not with magic. But with choice."
For a long moment, they just sat there. Two children of war, learning how to fight a battle that started before they were even born.
---
Back in the Chamber...
The basilisk struck.
Harry ducked behind a column, heart racing. The serpent hissed again, mouth open wide. Its fangs gleamed with venom.
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four," Tom commanded.
The basilisk lunged again.
Harry shouted for help, for something, anything.
And then—a golden blur.
Fawkes.
Dumbledore's phoenix soared into the Chamber with a triumphant cry, blinding the basilisk with a swipe of his claws. In his talons, he dropped the Sorting Hat at Harry's feet.
Tom laughed. "A bird and a hat? That's your backup, Potter?"
But from the hat came something more: a sword.
Gleaming silver. Etched with rubies. Godric Gryffindor's sword.
Harry gripped it with both hands.
The basilisk thrashed blindly.
Harry ran.
The fight was chaos—dodge, strike, roll, duck. The serpent's tail smashed into stone columns. Debris flew. The stench of venom filled the air.
At last, Harry saw an opening.
He charged.
With a yell of raw fury, he plunged the sword into the roof of the basilisk's mouth. The creature screamed, a sound that rattled the very foundation of Hogwarts, before collapsing in a final, shuddering death.
One of its fangs, massive and razor-sharp, sank into Harry's arm as the body fell.
Pain. Fire.
Harry staggered, collapsing beside Ginny. His vision blurred.
Tom smirked.
"You're finished."
But Fawkes came again, landing beside him. Tears dripped from the phoenix's eyes onto Harry's wound. The burning faded. The venom was gone.
Harry reached into the shredded remains of Ginny's satchel and pulled out the diary.
Tom turned sharply.
"Don't!"
Harry didn't listen.
He drove the basilisk fang into the heart of the book.
Ink exploded like blood. Tom screamed, his form flickering, unraveling.
He vanished.
Ginny stirred.
"Harry...?"
---
Later...
Ginny was safe. Lockhart, memoryless, was babbling nonsense. Ron had finally broken through the rubble.
The Chamber was quiet again, its monster dead.
As they made their way back up, Harry looked down at the diary—now hollow, lifeless.
A Horcrux destroyed.
But he didn't know yet that it was only the first.
That above, by the lake, another secret had been shared. A promise made.
And that Mattheo Riddle had chosen a side.
---