"Kill Harry Potter!" Tom rasped.
The Basilisk reared up without hesitation and struck at Harry.
At the same time, Tom didn't remain idle—his wand pointed at Harry as he uttered coldly,
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of eerie green light burst forth, but Tom frowned.
The speed was off, and the power was lacking.
Though the wand suited him perfectly, Harry was its true master. Using the Killing Curse against him drastically weakened its power.
"Screeee!"
Ho-Oh shielded Harry, its melodious song transforming into a piercing cry.
A spectral bird, several times larger than its physical form, materialised and charged at the Basilisk, knocking it to the ground and shattering several stone pillars.
Meanwhile, Ho-Oh's body was wreathed in scorching flames. The green light of the Killing Curse touched the fire, burning into tendrils of black smoke that were swiftly consumed.
"Brilliant!"
Harry punched the air in excitement, only to find his body flying uncontrollably through the air. He landed hard on the high platform, his head smacking against the wall with a sickening crack.
Before losing consciousness completely, he saw Ho-Oh circling gracefully overhead.
A youthful figure emerged from the flames.
Harry finally closed his eyes in peaceful surrender.
"Lawrence..." Tom's expression instantly smoothed into blankness, even managing to restrain the furious Basilisk and calm it down.
Only the gritted teeth behind his words betrayed the mismatch between his tone and actions.
"Tom, finally seeing your true face." Wayne stood bathed in firelight, studying the dark-haired youth before him with admiration:
"Quite handsome. Only one tier below me, really."
For Wayne, this was already quite high praise.
After all, even young Cedric only ranked slightly below him by three tiers here.
No wonder he could rely on his looks to utterly bewitch the last descendant of Hufflepuff.
"Likewise," Tom took two steps back. "I've also been looking forward to this moment of formally meeting you. Isn't this what you wanted, too?"
"What are you talking about?" Wayne tilted his head. "I don't understand."
"Still pretending?"
Tom sneered. "It's just you and me here. Harry Potter's already been knocked out. No need to maintain that hypocritical facade anymore."
"Ah..." Wayne sighed.
"Considering we're old friends, can't you at least spare me some dignity?"
"From the moment I learned your true identity, the greatest dignity I could give you was killing you with my own hands!"
"Didn't you deceive me, too?" Wayne looked at him sorrowfully. "We're even. Don't act like you're the victim here."
"Look at you, now you won't even call me 'Young Master Potter'."
"Potter my arse! Your father's Harry Potter!" Tom suddenly grew agitated, cursing loudly. "You've been playing me all along! You knew my identity from the start, knew I was Voldemort!"
"Even the diary—you deliberately gave it to Lockhart!"
"I'm resurrected, Lockhart's dead. Are you satisfied now?"
"Not bad. You figured it out quicker than your main self. Last term, he was completely outmanoeuvred by Dumbledore."
Wayne rubbed his hands together, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "I'm curious—how much of your soul did you split when you made this Horcrux?"
"Oh, right, if you don't want to call me 'Young Master Potter', I won't force you. 'Young Master Lawrence' works too."
"Lawrence, you bastard!"
Tom raised his wand and fired several beams of light, but they struck the flames swirling around Wayne, merely weakening them before dissipating entirely.
Ho-Oh circled triumphantly above Wayne.
After nearly two years, it had grown into a proper large bird. Spells of this calibre were far from enough to break through its defences.
Tom glared viciously at Ho-Oh before regaining his composure.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why resurrect me? You could've just handed me over to Dumbledore directly."
"Oh, that." Wayne waved his hand, transfiguring a piece of rubble into a chair and sitting down. Tom followed suit.
The tension between them suddenly eased. Separated by about twenty metres, they began chatting almost like old friends.
"I can answer your questions, but first, I have some of my own."
"Fine." Tom gave a slight nod.
"Who are you?" Wayne asked softly, staring into Tom's dark eyes.
"Tom Riddle," Tom replied calmly. "The man who will one day rule the wizarding world."
Wayne smiled. "And what about Voldemort? He's still out there, a wandering ghost."
"Lawrence, even though you played me for a fool and made me write those disgusting essays for you for half a year..." Tom toyed with his fingers, his tone gradually turning mocking.
"But I must say, the concepts and knowledge you've been teaching are rather intriguing."
"Lately I've been reflecting that Voldemort's failure was largely his own doing."
"Through Lockhart, I've learned much about your exploits and realised you resemble my younger self – only far more exceptional."
Tom slowly extended his hand. "Perhaps this is what you'd call the disparity between social strata and perspectives."
"I never had your advantages. Just an orphanage-born commoner with talent, so naturally all I saw was the filth and chaos of the underclass."
Wayne listened quietly, occasionally nodding in agreement.
"I used to despise the tainted Muggle blood running through my veins. But seeing you, I've come to understand something."
"Filth was never in the blood – it's in the inferiority festering within one's heart."
Clap clap clap!
Wayne couldn't help applauding. "Congratulations, Tom, for conquering your own insecurities."
"Daring to voice these truths means my countless days and nights mentoring you weren't wasted."
"But you still haven't answered my question – what exactly is your view of Voldemort?"
"He is himself, I am myself," Tom said flatly. "From now on, I'm simply Tom Riddle – a wizard without origins or destination."
"Someday, people will consider it an honour to follow me. Riddle shall become the most illustrious surname."
"No one will speak of my beginnings, for they'll all be prostrate at my feet."
"And if Voldemort learns of this, don't you think he'd want you dead?"
"Or rather, wouldn't you want to kill Voldemort? Fundamentally, you're the same person. In fact, he's the more legitimate version."
"There cannot be two suns in the sky. This world only has room for one Dark Lord."
Wayne posed the question teasingly – this was the most fascinating part.
Tom lowered his gaze. "That remains between us. No need for your concern."
"Lawrence, having answered so many questions, it's your turn now."
"Why? Why resurrect me?"
"You've already articulated most of the answer," Wayne replied breezily.
"Lockhart may be a fraud, but he's still a professor. I couldn't intervene directly, so you had to take the stage."
"Also... purely for amusement." The youth met Tom's gaze frankly. "Watching you and Voldemort mutually destroy each other would bring some peace to the wizarding world, no?"
"At the very least, it'd make for excellent entertainment, wouldn't you agree?"
"Entertainment?" Tom's head dipped as strange chuckles escaped him, escalating into mad laughter:
"Lawrence! In your eyes, am I just entertainment?"
"Not quite worthy yet." Maintaining Hufflepuff's characteristic bluntness, Wayne offered no comfort:
"Your antics these past six months have been poor. Attacking with a Basilisk just to spite Dumbledore? You've disappointed me."
"So... if you want to leave here alive, I've one final test for you."
Wayne raised his wand vertically in front of his chest. "Come now, you remember duelling etiquette?"
"No need to defeat me. Just prove your worth through any means necessary, and I'll let you depart."
"Let me see what level the student Professor Dumbledore called the most talented before me has reached."
[Major Event: The Divided Dark Lord is generating...]
Wayne glanced at the system panel now entirely occupied by this single massive notification, flashing with diamond-coloured brilliance.
The perpetual "generating" status existed because Tom's fate remained undecided - resting entirely on Wayne's whim.
"Hahahaha!" Tom laughed even louder. "Trying to mock me, Lawrence? You'd better not get devoured by the monster you've nurtured yourself!"
Boom~!
An invisible shockwave erupted between them, making their robes billow violently.
The Phoenix cried while the Basilisk hissed.
Tom raised his wand in flawless duelling etiquette, which Wayne mirrored perfectly.
Magical power boiled within both combatants as the surrounding air crackled with energy.
Tom's lips moved.
"Hsssss~!"
The Basilisk lunged forward with impossible speed for its massive frame, while Ho-Oh soared to meet it. Though smaller in size, the divine bird's spectral aura overshadowed the serpent.
In that instant, a sinister glint flashed through Tom's eyes as he suddenly pointed his wand at Wayne, unleashing a thick beam of dark magic.
Simultaneously, Wayne raised his own wand towards Tom. A lightning-wreathed magical beam collided with the dark energy.
The connected magical strands erupted in blinding light and arcing electricity!
Zzzzt!
Tom staggered backwards as the convergence point advanced towards him.
"Remarkable talent."
Wayne gradually pressed forward, lips curling. "Even stronger than the Half-Blood Prince."
"Indeed, this world's wizards only have two tiers - exceptional ones like you and Dumbledore... and ordinary mortals."
"Still far beneath you!"
Tom's face twisted grotesquely, maintaining the magical struggle despite his disadvantage. "Lawrence, this body is sixteen years old while you're merely twelve."
"The rumours are true - you're an absolute monster!"
"Rather impolite terminology." Wayne leaned forward, his magical pressure intensifying.
"Perhaps 'exceptionally gifted' would be more accurate?"
Meanwhile, Ho-Oh and the Basilisk's battle caused massive destruction, sending huge stone blocks crashing from the ceiling.
Seizing the moment, Tom gestured to hurl a falling boulder at Wayne, breaking their magical deadlock.
"Reducto!"
Wayne shattered the boulder effortlessly, then flicked his wrist to transform the fragments into stone spikes hurtling towards Tom.
The chamber echoed with bestial roars and Tom's shrieks as he swung his wand dramatically, animating the serpent statues flanking the Chamber of Secrets.
Two colossal snakes nearly matching the Basilisk's size lunged at Wayne. The stone spikes merely left shallow scratches on their hardened forms.
While Snape represented rare genius, Tom's terrifying prowess surpassed even that.
This talent encompassed not just Dark Magic, but every conceivable discipline. The potion for his resurrection was of his own creation—just one spell could regenerate Wormtail's severed limbs, and he had even developed an unprecedented flying charm.
And today, Wayne witnessed his mastery of Transfiguration.
The animation was one thing, but the seamless coordination between the two giant serpents showcased his extraordinary control.
"Sectumsempra!"
Powerful magical power transformed into invisible blades, one horizontal, one vertical. Under the force of abundant magic, the giant serpents were cleanly sliced into four pieces, collapsing limply onto the ground.
The invisible blades didn't lose momentum, surging toward Tom in the distance.
Tom's expression darkened slightly. This formless, shadowless magic was something he had never seen before. The hastily constructed shield shattered instantly.
A massive serpent's tail firmly shielded him.
The Basilisk let out a pained howl, its tail bearing a deep, bone-exposing wound. Dark green venomous blood oozed out, dripping onto the floor with a corrosive hiss.
"This isn't your fight. Get lost!"
Wayne's expression turned cold as he pushed forward with his hand. Water jets erupted from the pools on either side, sending the Basilisk flying.
Tom's gaze grew even graver.
The sheer power of Wayne's magic was astonishing, far beyond what he had imagined.
The Basilisk's notorious difficulty didn't just lie in its venomous fangs or its deadly gaze—the thick scales that granted it immense magical resistance also made it a nightmare for wizards to handle.
If the Three-Headed Dog's magical resistance were rated at 1, the Basilisk's would be an 8. Even lying still, many Aurors couldn't breach its defences, forced to target only its weak spots.
Yet Wayne's two spells had nearly severed the Basilisk's tail.
"Pestis Incendium!"
Riddle took a deep breath, extended his wand forward, and blazing Fiendfyre surged up, transforming into the shape of a three-headed serpent that rushed violently ahead.
Feeling the rising temperature in the room, Wayne sighed helplessly. "Do you Dark Wizards just cycle through the same few spells?"
"Left hand the three Unforgivable Curses, right hand Fiendfyre."
"Could you at least try something new?"
"Want to see other magic? As you wish. Let me show you what true Dark Magic really is."
Tom let out a low, cold laugh, chanting a complex incantation at an astonishing speed. Dozens of syllables spilt from his lips in the blink of an eye.
A thick, black mist erupted from the tip of his wand, coalescing into a grotesque, ghastly face that lunged at Wayne.
Fear, despair, pain, slaughter, resentment—waves of negative emotions crashed against Wayne's mind.
This wasn't just a physical attack; even the psyche was assaulted.
To Wayne, who had mastered the Meditation Technique, such mental assaults were utterly ineffective. His emotions remained perfectly steady as he raised his left hand, multicoloured light gathering in his palm.
"Final Spark!"
Boom!
When the radiant beam erupted, the entire space was flooded with light.
Under this absolute force, the black mist dissipated instantly, and even the Fiendfyre vaporised on contact.
Tom's eyes widened.
For the first time since the battle began, he felt genuine fear.
This sensation... it was just like when he'd faced Dumbledore all those years ago.
"No, impossible!"
He couldn't possibly have reached that level!
Tom scrambled desperately into the pool, narrowly avoiding the Final Spark's blast. The Slytherin statue behind him wasn't so lucky—it was blown to unrecognisable fragments.
Thud!
The Basilisk collapsed limply to the ground, its eyes now just two bloody hollows, completely neutralised.
Ho-Oh stood triumphantly atop the crown on the Basilisk's head, declaring its victory.
Not a single feather was out of place.
"Any more tricks, Tom?" Wayne's voice echoed through the Chamber of Secrets. "If this is all you've got, I really can't let you leave the school in good conscience."
"After finally being resurrected, it'd be such a shame if the Dark Lord found and killed you."
The response to Wayne's taunt was a Killing Curse—a streak of deadly green—fired from the depths of the pool!