Aster walked down the corridor.
So it was under Hogwarts, he thought. The basilisk lay ahead—massive, coiled, and inert. Its presence pressed on the air like a weight.
His steps made no sound. Calm, almost too calm. He moved with quiet certainty until he reached a vast, ancient chamber.
The chamber was heavy with damp stone and silence. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows against the serpentine walls, but the air felt alive.
There they were, his locket and the diary, lying near the motionless form of Ginny Weasley.
A ritual? he guessed, narrowing his eyes.
Then he spoke, his voice layered, like two souls speaking through one mouth.
"Show yourself, Tom."
A shadow rose from the diary, translucent, handsome, smug. Tom Riddle emerged in spectral form. Aster had never seen that face before… yet it felt unsettlingly familiar.
"Well," Riddle said, lips curled in amusement, "I was expecting the one who defeated my future self…"
Aster's expression turned cold. "I know, right? A car ran me over last month. Fate works in mysterious ways. The car was meant to save Harry."
Tom sneered. "The boy lives by luck and nothing more."
Aster's smile sharpened. "Oh, Tom... too bad luck works against you."
Riddle stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "What can you do? A boy who can't even control his own magic?"
Aster didn't rise to the bait. "The boy who will defeat you. The true heir of Slytherin."
Tom's face twisted. "You're no heir. I am!"
Aster casually cleaned his ear with a finger. "Yeah... were. Now you're just a ghost trapped in a diary."
"She'll give me enough," Tom growled, nodding to Ginny. "Enough power to take what's mine."
Aster tilted his head. "And how do you plan to stop me?"
Tom smiled, cruel and confident. "With this."
From the shadows, the basilisk began to stir.
It slithered forward, immense and ancient, scales scraping like stone. Its eyes remained shut, but the force of it shook the chamber.
And Aster didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even look surprised.
He raised his wand, his left hand. The one holding his basilisk-core wand.
Then came the voice. Cold. Clear. Ancient. Commanding.
Parseltongue.
Aster's voice.
"Heh? You think you're the heir? A ghost clinging to the past."
"This is what a true heir looks like."
The basilisk halted.
Then, unbelievably, it lowered its head.
Circling him.
Submitting.
Tom Riddle stared in disbelief as the serpent coiled around Aster like a guardian, not a weapon.
And in that moment, Aster Black, calm, deadly, and absolute, claimed the Chamber of Secrets.
——————————————————————————————
Moments ago…
Harry was running through the already-explored tunnels, heart hammering in his chest.
Behind him, Lockhart lay stunned, his own Obliviate having erased every shred of memory from his mind.
Up ahead, something slithered in the darkness. The damp, coiled stillness of the tunnel whispered danger.
Then, he heard it.
"This is what a true heir looks like."
The voice cut through the shadows.
Harry froze. He knew that voice.
Aster.
And what he saw next confirmed everything.
The Basilisk, the Basilisk, was not attacking. It was coiling protectively around Aster, as if shielding its master.
Ginny lay nearby, pale and still.
Aster stood tall, wand in hand. His eyes unreadable. Cold. Almost... ancient.
So I was right, Harry thought, his stomach turning. He was possessed by Voldemort. It was only a matter of time.
Gripping his wand tighter, Harry stepped forward and shouted:
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
Aster's wand flew from his hand, spinning through the air, and with a flash of movement, the Basilisk swallowed it whole.
Still, Aster didn't flinch.
'Self-centered fool,' Aster thought, not even bothering to glare. But he made no move to stop the Basilisk.
If fate had chosen Harry, then he would survive this trial. If not, then Harry would fall. It was as simple, and as cruel, as that.
The chamber shook with the serpent's hiss.
Harry staggered back, panic setting in. "Run!" he shouted.
But then—
Flames.
A burst of fire split the darkness as Fawkes dove from above, phoenix-cry piercing the gloom. His wings were brilliant against the stone, his eyes burning with purpose.
But he wasn't alone.
From the shadows emerged Nyx, a living shadow, graceful and soundless, gliding like death given form.
Together, fire and void, they struck.
Fawkes's flames seared the Basilisk's face. Nyx leapt for the eyes.
The beast thrashed, blind and roaring.
Aster remained still, watching. Not interfering.
Harry looked back, breath catching in his throat.
Aster had retrieved the Diary.
He opened it. He began to write.
The ink glowed black as it crawled across the page, like veins of shadow spreading into the parchment.
Words pulsed against his hand, alive.
Aster didn't flinch.
"Become part of the whole, young Tom."
It was his voice, but layered, warped, echoing with something more. Not fully human. Not fully him.
Something within was stirring.
Something old.
And something both sides of Aster were now beginning to accept.
Minutes passed.
Harry sprinted through the tunnel, the Basilisk still trailing him, its hiss like thunder on stone.
Ahead, Aster stood with the Diary in hand.
He pointed past Harry and called out, almost playfully,
"Behind you."
That cold smile never left his face. He hadn't moved an inch.
Harry turned and spotted the Sorting Hat lying on the floor.
Something glinted inside it.
He reached in and drew out the Sword of Gryffindor.
Without thinking, he pointed it straight at Aster.
Aster didn't blink.
"You know…" he said, voice calm, "If I die, the Basilisk will still be here… brother."
The word hit Harry like a slap.
It sounded… real. Human. His.
But the moment passed like mist.
Harry bolted to the far side of the chamber, heart hammering.
The Basilisk lunged to devour him—
And Harry struck upward, driving the sword through its gaping maw.
Steel met brain.
As the blade pierced its brain, the Basilisk's last gaze wasn't rage.
It was… regret.
And Aster whispered, "You were too old to be ruled by ghosts."
The Basilisk gave a final, shuddering hiss, then fell, dead.
But not before its fang sank into Harry's arm.
Harry cried out, tore the fang free, and stumbled toward Aster.
Aster still hadn't moved.
Instead, he turned, lifted the Diary, and used it to block Harry's strike.
Ink burst from the pages like black blood.
Aster simply clapped his hands together.
"Wow... How did you know everything happened because of the diary?" His tone was light. Almost impressed. Even though he knew, Harry had meant to kill him.
But Aster didn't take it to heart. Not literally. Not metaphorically.
Behind them, Harry's legs buckled, the venom spreading fast.
Fawkes swooped down, landing beside him. Tears fell like liquid sunlight onto the wound.
Aster watched. 'Hmm… So phoenix tears really can heal…'
Harry rose slowly, breathing hard.
"Are you… Aster?"
Aster didn't look at him. He was crouched near Ginny, checking her for wounds.
"Yeah… I almost fooled the Diary into giving her back alive." A lie, as easy as breath.
Harry stared.
"How could the Basilisk obey you? You're not the Heir."
Aster paused.
'He's not easily fooled… I am proud, Harry.' Aster thought.
Then came the reply, smooth and simple:
"It's a snake. Doesn't matter if it's the king of all snakes. Parseltongue works, even for you."
Another lie.
No one, not the Diary, not Harry, not even Voldemort, could have taken the Basilisk from him.
But Harry nodded, satisfied by the half-truth.
He stepped forward again.
"Go back, Harry." Aster's voice was flat. "Fawkes can't carry all three of us. I bet Ron's still somewhere in these tunnels. Maybe someone else too."
Harry hesitated.
"And Ginny?"
Aster gave a rare smile.
"Nyx and I will handle that."
Harry looked back once, then took off, Fawkes flying by his side.
Silence settled.
Aster stood, walking slowly to the Basilisk's corpse.
"Goodnight, partner."
He knelt beside it and pried open the mouth.
His wand, his Basilisk-core wand, was somewhere inside.
But then—
He felt it.
Something calling to him.
Something deeper than instinct.
He saw a fang. Small. Glimmering with death.
He took it in hand. Then—
Gulp.
He ate it.
Agony.
His knees slammed to the stone. His throat burned. His eyes flickered with inhuman color.
His body steamed, shifting, warping, something inside him screaming as it was made whole.
When it ended, he was still.
But changed.
His blood hissed in his veins. His shadow stretched longer than it should. When he inhaled, the torches dimmed—As if the castle itself was holding its breath.
His hair no longer simply Ashgrey, now dark, but gleaming, like it had been washed in starlight.
His wand slithered back into his hand.
No longer wood.
Its shaft had transformed into something slick, glistening. Like real Basilisk flesh, pulsing with dormant power.
He stood.
Lifted Ginny gently into his arms.
"Well... time to go, princess."
And then—
With Ginny in his arms and Nyx on his shoulder, Aster vanished, no flash, no crack of magic. Just gone.
The Chamber was left in silence. The corpse of the basilisk, the ruined diary, and a single bloody fang were all that remained.