49: The Chamber of Secrets

[3rd Pov]

Stretching ahead, its walls made of rough stone, moss creeping along the edges, with torches flickering sporadically along the walls, shadows of serpentine pillars danced around the ancient engravings etched into the rock.

The air was damp, tinged with the scent of earth and sewers. Small puddles of water formed on the uneven stone ground from water steadily dripping from the arched ceiling.

At the end of a long, winding pathway, covered in water from both sides, stood a massive statue, carved from stone. It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth floor. Next to the colossal statue, two figures in black robes rested against a pillar, completely still.

But then, with a sudden and deep inhalation, the young boy with silver-blonde hair snapped his eyes wide open.

His sight greeted him with a misty haze, a blur that he easily recognized as a curse's effect. Attempting to shift his hands, he discovered them firmly affixed above his head, trapped by a curse to the pillar.

"You're finally awake," A gentle voice stirred Alaric awake.

He quickly turned his head to see a tall, dark-haired youth leaning against a pillar, observing him. The figure appeared somewhat hazy around the edges as if Alaric were peering through a foggy window, but he recognized the person nonetheless.

"Voldemort," he murmured.

Riddle nodded, a grin forming on his face, not taking his eyes from Alaric. "That Weasley girl did tell me that my name became quite known in the future," he said with relish. "But who would've guessed that you knew who I truly was!"

"It's not exactly hard if you know where to look," Alaric said, his hands shifting slightly above him.

A laugh escaped Voldemort's younger self's lips. "I guess you're right. In the end, it doesn't really matter," He stepped close to Alaric, his eyes travelling to the other passed-out figure. "You nearly ruined my plans, Alaric Grindelwald. You and your sister. Ginny Weasley had been writing in my diary for months now, slowly giving me power and form — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how she never thought Harry Potter would like her back, and — how scared she was of you,"

Alaric was about to respond with a sarcastic remark to delay while he removed the curses on himself. But when he saw the person next to him, his mind was flooded with concerns and inquiries.

"When I found out a direct descendant of Gellert Grindelwald himself was at Hogwarts, in Slytherin no less, I was overjoyed," Riddle admitted. "It was like I was a child amazed by the wonders of magic again. But you had to go and ruin everything," His face deformed into an ugly frown, one that would have sent shivers down anyone's spine.

But Alaric wasn't listening. "T-Theodore!" he shouted, trying to wake up his lanky friend. Theo's face was pale, his breathing shallow, and he was curled up on the floor next to the pillar.

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot about it," Riddle chuckled. "You NEARLY ruined my plans. Luckily for me, your friend here is as innocent as they can get. But that was a blunder on your part. Leaving the diary open like that for everyone to see. A little lie was enough to make him believe I needed a drop of his blood to get you out of the diary —"

"But you used the blood to create a magical link between the diary and him in order to gain control over his body," Alaric interrupted.

"Bingo!"

While Riddle laughed like a maniac, the restraints on Alaric's hands slowly dissipated.

"You know," Tom Riddle said. "You remind me a lot of myself. We're eerily similar if you think about it,"

"How so?" Alaric asked, his hands almost free.

Riddle laughed again, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit his appearance.

"Exceptional magical abilities and intelligence even as a young student. High charisma, charming, skilled at getting what's wanted, and natural leadership qualities. But underneath all of that, there's a deep desire for power and a wish to explore magic that's deemed forbidden or dangerous. I guess the only noticeable difference is our backgrounds. I, a descendant of the mighty Salazar Slytherin, and you, grandson of the once great Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald,"

Alaric frowned. "Once?" he asked.

"Well, of course! Because I, Lord Voldemort, am the most powerful Dark Lord of all time. And now that I'll be reborn, my other self will come and fuse with me and then, I'll be whole again!"

He had bought enough time. With a flick of his wrist, the curse that had taken hold of his hands broke. His wand, which was in Riddle's back pocket, flew to him. It took less than a second. Before Tom Riddle's apparition even noticed, Theodore was behind some pillars in safety, and Alaric was pointing his hand at Voldemort's younger self.

The smile that had been consistently on Riddle's face was gone, replaced by a very ugly look.

Not wasting time, a few nasty curses left Alaric's wand. He watched as they approached Riddle, only for them to pass right through him.

"It's no use," he said. "In a few minutes, you and your friend shall be dead and I — reborn anew,"

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" Alaric said, clenching his wand tightly.

Voldemort simply smiled and opened his mouth wide before hissing. "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Alaric saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole. And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

Closing his eyes, something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Alaric felt it shudder — he knew what was happening, he could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth. Then he heard Riddle's hissing voice: "Kill him."

The basilisk was moving toward Alaric; he could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor.

In front of a force of nature such as the Basilisk, people were supposed to be afraid. At least, that's what Tom Riddle thought. Then why was the boy in front of him grinning?!

The pendant on Alaric's neck shone brightly, and the tip of his wand shone a dark and nightmarish light.

He waited until the Basilisk was closest to him, and when he was certain it was in front of him, its mouth open, ready to swallow him whole, the spell left his wand.

A scream of terror. That was all that could be heard during the short time the spell left the wand until it hit the Basilisk. The moment the spell hit the giant snake, it let out a wail similar to the one before, and Alaric opened his eyes.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. In its eye sockets, instead of big yellow serpentine eyes, were shadowy tendrils squirming around, slowly eating away the creature's eyes.

"NO!" Alaric heard Riddle shouting as blood streamed down the Basilisk's face, hissing in agony and fright.

The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Alaric watched as, using its sense of smell, turned towards him and slithered, ignoring the pain and nightmarish illusions it was having. A sweeping motion of its tail swept the ground anew. Alaric's instincts served him well; he ducked with a hair's breadth to spare, avoiding the harrowing blow. Swiftly, his wand danced in practised motion.

From the very ground beneath, jagged spires of stone erupted, delivering shallow lacerations to the Basilisk's form. The serpent's advance was hindered, its predatory grace disrupted. With another flourish, Alaric wrought a transmutation upon one of the towering pillars, shaping it into a colossal axe that swung downward, the target the very head of the serpent itself.

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" Riddle yelled in a fit of rage.

It lunged at Alaric once more, narrowly evading the axe. Alarix dodged again and it hit the Chamber's wall. The serpent's bifurcated tongue flicked outward, yet Alaric's practised wandwork conjured a protective shield, redirecting the attack.

Amidst the chaos, falling debris threatened to engulf Theodore, but Alaric's vigilance remained unwavering; his magic unfurled another barrier, shielding his companion from harm's reach.

The serpent lunged once more, a desperate, final gambit in its waning arsenal. Alaric knew the moment had come, the moment to end this dire confrontation. A spell formed upon his lips and surged from his wand. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, lined with long, sharp, and deadly fangs — but all of those weren't match to the spell that left Alaric's wand.

It was dark, extremely so. The timing was precise, the trajectory aimed at the serpent's gaping maw, instead of the extremely magical resistant scales. And the aftermath was as gruesome as it was ominous.

As if a vessel strained beyond its limit, the interior of the Basilisk imploded, abruptly snuffing out all vital activity. It crumpled to the ground, its momentum carrying it in a sluggish motion before finally settling near one of the towering pillars.

"NO!" Riddle screamed.

Blood seeped from every aperture of the Basilisk's form, its maw agape, bereft of its tongue, and its eyes marred, as though maggots had claimed them as their abode.

"It's over Tom," Alaric said between labored breaths. Theodore was safe, the Basilisk dead and the diary was about to be destroyed.

"You..." Seething with fury, Riddle stepped towards Alaric, only for his eyes to bulge as he watched the demonic flames exit the tip of Alaric's wand.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. The diary slowly turned into ashes. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then — he was gone.

Alaric fell to his knees, battling the tugging feeling that kept pulling him into the pits of madness. He had used too much dark magic, especially that last spell. He blasted his Occlumency to full power, his face adopting an unusual cold expression.

His gaze shifted toward Theodore, discerning a hint of colour returning to his friend's once-pale face and the gradual stirrings of consciousness.

"Alaric!"

The last thing he saw before his vision turned black was the group of figures running along the long pathway of the chamber, hurryingly approaching him. The feeling had won for once, hitting his brain with dark and twisted magical urges, so bad that Alaric forced himself asleep with a spell.

"Albus..." McGonagall's voice came in a hushed breath as her gaze settled upon the state of the Basilisk. Her eyes widened in both horror at the scene before her and the unsettling reverberations of the residual magic that seemed to pervade the air.

"I know, Minerva, I know," Dumbledore responded, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "Professors, kindly accompany the young students to the infirmary while I attend to this matter. Severus, your assistance will be appreciated."

Each faculty member promptly went about their assigned tasks. Dumbledore and Snape undertook the sombre duty of dealing with the Basilisk's remains, while the remainder of the staff took charge of Alaric and Theodore, leading them to the hospital wing. Lysandra trailed behind them, her distress manifesting in heavy sobs.

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A/N: Can anyone guess where Alaric got those two unknown spells from?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!