In the dark and eerie chamber, even though it was five against one, only Dumbledore was confronting Tom Riddle — the rest were completely ignored. Even at sixteen, the future Dark Lord didn't take the other two professors or Eda seriously.
In Tom Riddle's eyes, the only person worth acknowledging was Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age. Oh — and of course, Harry, the boy who had defeated Voldemort when he was only a year old.
"To cleanse the school of those unworthy of magic — isn't that the duty I was born with?" Tom Riddle countered. "And I have always done exactly that."
What Tom Riddle truly thought was unknown, but Eda certainly didn't believe that his desire to rule over the British wizarding world and commit countless atrocities was simply to fulfill the will of his ancestor.
"That's not your duty, Tom. It's merely one of the means you use to achieve your ends," Dumbledore said bluntly, exposing him without hesitation. "Just like your followers — those you recruit, deceive, or coerce — they are nothing but your tools for success."
The handsome sixteen-year-old boy smiled faintly. "As long as I succeed, it doesn't matter what methods I use. The taste of success is always sweet."
While Dumbledore and Tom Riddle were speaking, Harry struggled to drag Ginny's limp body away. He knew who the blurry figure before them was — and he couldn't let Ginny stay so close to Tom Riddle. He wanted to bring her back to Dumbledore's side.
But Ginny sat there like a lifeless puppet, unable to respond or move. Harry used all his strength to pull her, but her body wouldn't budge.
He was only a year older than Ginny, yet he couldn't move her at all. Instead, he lost his balance and fell hard to the ground. Tom Riddle noticed Harry's actions — but made no move to stop him.
A mocking smile appeared on Tom Riddle's face, as if he were laughing at Harry's weakness and helplessness.
"Don't waste your strength, Harry Potter," he said coldly. "You can't save this foolish little girl. Dumbledore can't save her. No one can."
"What did you do to her?" Eda demanded angrily. She didn't have many family or friends — each one she did have was precious to her. When someone she cared about was hurt, she couldn't just stand by and do nothing.
"Who are you?" Tom Riddle countered, ignoring her question. Eda, who was usually the one to ignore others, found herself being disregarded twice by the same person today.
Then Tom seemed to recall something. "Ah, right. You must be the Mudblood sister Ginny kept writing about. She filled the diary with all those sickly-sweet little girlish thoughts. She wanted to be as talented as you — how pathetically self-degrading."
"You're the one who's self-degrading!" Eda shouted furiously. A flash of white light shot from her wand — the spell Merciful Release, cast with double amplification — carrying all her rage with it.
But the powerful spell did nothing to harm Tom Riddle. It passed straight through his chest and struck the massive statue of Slytherin behind him, leaving a deep mark.
Tom looked down at his chest, then turned to glance at the fresh dent on the statue. Instead of anger, he let out a cold, piercing laugh.
"If you kneel and kiss the hem of my robes," he said softly, "perhaps I'll let you die a little more painlessly."
Why bother getting angry at a dead person? In Tom Riddle's eyes, everyone who had entered the Chamber — Dumbledore, Harry, Eda, and the others — were already corpses.
Arrogant and conceited — those words had followed Tom Riddle since birth. And the version of him sealed within the diary happened to be sixteen years old, the very peak of youthful arrogance and vanity.
At last, with Professor Sprout's help, Harry managed to drag Ginny back. Professor Flitwick immediately rushed over to examine her condition.
The good news was that Ginny was still alive.
The bad news — her life was fading fast, like a candle flickering in the wind, or a fish struggling in a net.
"No one wants to kiss the hem of your robe, Tom," Dumbledore said softly. "And Miss Weasley will be fine."
Eda's earlier outburst, though it had seemed impulsive, had in fact been a calculated test against Tom Riddle. That single strike allowed Dumbledore to gauge the boy's true condition — and to discern the secret of the diary.
Dumbledore went on, "It seems that from the very day Miss Weasley received that diary, she began writing down her thoughts and feelings in it. And then you appeared in her life — like a little friend she could carry around in her pocket. She opened her heart to you completely…"
"That's right. You've got it exactly," Tom Riddle said mockingly. "Though her petty troubles were insufferably dull, I still forced myself to respond. I was always so kind, so understanding."
Slowly, Tom Riddle began recounting how he had interacted with Ginny — how he had bewitched her completely. It was he who made her open the Chamber, he who used her to attack the Muggle-born students of Hogwarts. Ginny herself had no idea what she had done under his influence.
After a long time, however, Ginny began to notice things — her worsening condition, the worried looks of those around her, and the strange events unfolding at the school.
Distrust and fear crept into her heart, and in her panic, she had returned to the girls' bathroom and left the diary there.
By sheer coincidence, the next person to find that diary had been Harry Potter. When Ginny discovered that the diary had fallen into Harry's hands, she grew terrified — afraid he would uncover the truth. So she had stolen the diary back from the boys' dormitory.
"What I didn't expect," Tom said, "was how far your investigation into the Chamber had come. Because of that, I had to move up my plan — and bring dear little Ginny down here ahead of schedule."
As Tom Riddle spoke, his gaze slid from Ginny to Harry, his eyes glimmering with greed.
His story not only satisfied his own twisted sense of accomplishment but also served another purpose — to buy time, allowing his once-faint, blurry form to grow clearer and more solid with each passing moment.
None of this escaped Dumbledore's eyes. His quiet listening had only been to find a way to defeat Tom and save Ginny.
"I've seen through your tricks, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, now having fully grasped the situation. "Your existence depends entirely on Miss Weasley's life. You're drawing power from her — feeding on her very life force to sustain and strengthen yourself."
"Tricks? No, no," Tom Riddle retorted, his tone proud and fanatical. "This is magnificent, glorious magic! As for Miss Weasley — the blood of a pure-blood witch is far too precious to waste. Her blood, her soul, her devotion will make the reborn Dark Lord younger and stronger than ever!"
"There's no point dragging this out any further," Dumbledore said, readying himself for battle. "It's time to end this — and take Miss Weasley to St. Mungo's."
They could not delay another second. With every passing moment, Ginny's life slipped further away. Now that they knew everything they needed, they could not allow her vitality to keep draining.
"Delay?" Tom Riddle sneered. "No — I was only giving you time to make peace with your deaths. Your deaths will be the offering for my rebirth. Come, then — on one side stands Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin; on the other, Dumbledore and his precious savior, Harry Potter."
Tom Riddle turned toward the statue of Slytherin, raising his arms. A hissing sound spilled from his mouth.
The massive stone face began to move. Its mouth opened — wider, and wider still — until it became a yawning black hole. From within came a deep, slithering sound that echoed through the chamber.
The basilisk had awoken.
With a thunderous crash, the colossal serpent slammed down onto the stone floor, shaking the entire Chamber of Secrets.
And just then — a clear, piercing cry broke through the rumbling. A phoenix's song.
Dispelling the shockwave from the Basilisk, our Fawkes, who had been missing for a long time, reappeared in the Chamber.
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