Tom Riddle's lips curled into an indescribable smile as he heard Harry's question. His eyes, filled with contempt, locked onto Harry with disdain.
"Yes, I was once a student of this school," he admitted, his voice dripping with derision. "But I was sick to death of these filthy Mudbloods—just sharing the same air as them is revolting."
Although Tom Riddle himself was not of pureblood lineage, his ideology aligned perfectly with Salazar Slytherin's: an unshakable belief in blood purity.
It was this conviction that had driven him, fifty years ago, to open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the Basilisk, killing a Muggle-born student in the process.
Harry stared at Tom Riddle in utter disbelief.
Meanwhile, Riddle continued his monologue, his voice carrying a mix of mockery and intrigue. "And yet, you—a mere Mudblood—somehow survived Voldemort."
This was something Riddle could never comprehend. It was precisely this mystery that had led him to orchestrate the events surrounding Ginny...
When Ginny realized things were spiraling out of control, she had tried to destroy the diary. She had even managed to retrieve it from Harry's belongings, but it was all in vain.
The boy she so deeply admired had still ended up here, in the Chamber of Secrets, because of her.
At this point, Riddle's gaze shifted toward Nolan, his expression filled with something between intrigue and disgust.
"A pureblooded vampire traveling with a Mudblood… What an absolute disgrace to your lineage," he sneered. "You should be exterminated just like them. It's because of creatures like you that Mudbloods still exist."
His voice grew more venomous. "Muggles have no right to study magic. They don't deserve to stand on equal footing with purebloods."
By now, Tom Riddle's ideology had twisted into something unrecognizable, bordering on sheer madness.
His words made Harry's blood run cold. He finally understood—this was Voldemort. Or at least, a fragment of his soul...
Nolan, on the other hand, took a step back, his nose wrinkling slightly. The sheer malevolence emanating from Riddle's soul carried a stench that vampires, with their heightened senses, found repulsive.
Tom Riddle was completely consumed by his own delusions.
Perhaps, in the beginning, he had simply sought to master magic. But over time, his soul had been corrupted by Slytherin's ideals…
Nolan cast a brief, unreadable glance at Ginny's unconscious form on the ground, then at Ron, who was also lying motionless
"There's no room for negotiation when our ideologies are this different," Nolan muttered, steeling himself for battle.
But before he could make a move, Tom Riddle proved he had no intention of fighting fairly—he summoned the Basilisk.
Nolan's eyes darkened with fury. This damned thing could petrify anyone who met its gaze.
And to make matters worse, this monstrous serpent wasn't something that could be dealt with quickly. Its scales were practically impenetrable.
Nolan had already attempted several attacks, but none had dealt any significant damage. He had even come dangerously close to getting hit by the petrification curse.
"Are we just supposed to keep running?!" Harry shouted as he barely dodged another strike from the Basilisk.
Nolan, growing increasingly frustrated, finally lost patience. With a sudden burst of movement, his body transformed into a bat. His wings flapped powerfully as he ascended, dodging the Basilisk's lunges with ease.
"I'll take care of Riddle first!" he declared. "Let's see how dangerous that overgrown snake is without its master!"
With that, Nolan soared toward Tom Riddle, his body shifting back into human form mid-air, wings spread wide behind him.
Riddle, seeing this, smirked and raised Harry's stolen wand, launching a flurry of spells at Nolan.
Forced to maneuver around the oncoming attacks, Nolan darted left and right, closing the distance between himself and Riddle as swiftly as possible.
But Riddle wasn't a fool. In fact, as a fragment of Voldemort's soul, his reflexes were unnaturally sharp. He dodged every single one of Nolan's attacks with ease, smirking all the while.
And then—
A sharp cry echoed through the Chamber.
Nolan hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected sound. His gaze followed the source, only to see a magnificent phoenix flying toward Harry, a ragged-looking Sorting Hat clutched in its beak.
"Dumbledore's pet?" Nolan mused, recognizing the bird instantly.
The phoenix dropped the hat in front of Harry, who looked at it in sheer panic. "What am I supposed to do with this?!" he exclaimed.
Despite his frustration, he still grabbed the hat. And then—
To Nolan's utter astonishment, Harry pulled a sword from within the fabric of the Sorting Hat.
Nolan blinked, half-amused, half-impressed. "So, the bookworm turns into a swordsman, huh?"
With his worries about Harry somewhat alleviated, Nolan turned his full focus back to Riddle, his smirk returning. If this were the real Voldemort, he might have been concerned. But this was merely a piece of his soul.
Nothing he couldn't handle.
His wings beat the air as he skillfully avoided Riddle's spell attacks. The enhanced agility granted by his vampiric nature made dodging child's play.
Finally, in one fluid motion, Nolan's hand pierced straight through Riddle's chest—
And met nothing but empty air.
His expression froze.
What…?
Before he could react, a surge of dark magic slammed into him, sending him crashing against the Chamber wall.
"You all seem to forget—I am a soul fragment," Riddle mocked. "Physical attacks mean nothing to me."
Nolan coughed, wiping the trickle of blood from his lips as he struggled to his feet. His chest throbbed painfully.
"Did he just break one of my ribs?" he muttered in irritation.
It had been a long time since he'd taken a hit like that.
He needed to think. How could he destroy something that was purely a soul?
Typically, soul fragments like this resided within a physical object. As long as that object remained intact, the soul would persist indefinitely.
His eyes narrowed in realization.
"Harry!" Nolan called out, his voice sharp. "Throw me the diary!"
He spread his wings once more, propelling himself toward Harry.
But he knew it wouldn't be easy—Harry was still locked in a deadly battle against the Basilisk.
And sure enough—
Just as Nolan had anticipated, Harry was already scrambling to escape as the giant serpent lunged again, forcing him to climb onto the massive stone statue's head for safety…