Moriarty left Mrs. Malfoy, who seemed lost in her thoughts, and strode a few steps deeper into the Slytherin dormitory until he stood before Tom Riddle.
"I'll introduce myself properly—Moriarty Slytherin. I come from fifty years in the future."
"Slytherin?" Tom sneered coldly. He stepped away from the bed, calm and graceful, and walked directly toward Moriarty.
"I don't know who you think you are," Tom said with venom in his voice, "but what I do know is that you're a liar. There is no other descendant of Salazar Slytherin but me. I am the Heir of Slytherin. And you? A vagabond with a stolen name and expensive robes?"
He looked Moriarty up and down, then shifted a glance toward Mrs. Malfoy.
"Don't think parading around in fine garments and dragging along a pure-blood woman will convince me of anything. Did you steal the robes too? Perhaps you're not just a liar—but a thief."
Tom's words were sharpened like daggers. He deployed his usual strategy—verbal assault to destabilize the opponent. In his mind, Moriarty was now a potential threat, and Tom Riddle had no intention of letting a threat linger.
If need be, he'd eliminate it.
But before that, he wanted this grey-eyed stranger to bend, to yield, and to acknowledge what Tom held sacred—that he alone bore the blood of Salazar Slytherin.
Five years in Slytherin House had forged Tom's personality: caustic wit, icy sarcasm, and the deep conviction of his superiority.
"The sacred bloodline of Salazar Slytherin must not be defiled," Tom spat, "and you will pay the price—Ossis Exuro!"
A red bolt—like a scorching whip of fire—lashed through the air toward Moriarty.
One moment, Tom was speaking.
The next, he had cast one of the Unforgivable Curses—the Cruciatus Curse—nonverbally and without a wand.
Mrs. Malfoy, watching, instantly understood: this was Lord Voldemort in his youth—ruthless, remorseless, terrifying.
Yet her face didn't change. Her heart did not falter.
Her eyes fell on Moriarty's back—the man standing unmoved before her.
No fear, no flinch.
He stood tall—an immovable pillar.
She knew Moriarty well. And she knew he would never allow anyone—not even Voldemort—to insult his bloodline.
And indeed, Moriarty was ready.
With a fluid flick of his wrist, he summoned a cascade of ice. Water magic pulsed from him—cold and precise.
Frost formed instantly in midair, crystallizing the Cruciatus in place—stopped dead in its tracks.
"Unforgivable Curses without a wand?" Moriarty raised an eyebrow, smiling coolly. "A gift, then, little Tom? Pity—your uncle doesn't accept such things without manners."
His tone was mocking, like a disappointed elder chastising a misbehaving child.
Mrs. Malfoy found it amusing. A soft laugh escaped her lips.
Tom's face darkened—green with humiliation. A scarlet flare surged in his eyes.
Another flash of red light burst forth from Tom's hand, this time hurtling toward Mrs. Malfoy.
He would not be mocked.
No one humiliated Lord Voldemort and lived.
Mrs. Malfoy's blood froze. Her body wouldn't move, feet glued to the cold stone floor.
This was not the anger of a schoolboy—it was murderous intent.
This… this is why her sister Bellatrix was obsessed with him.
Suddenly—
A voice beside her: "Are you underestimating Voldemort?"
Mrs. Malfoy blinked.
The Cruciatus Curse had vanished. In front of her, Moriarty stood like a statue of ice, surrounded by a freezing mist. He'd blocked it effortlessly.
She beamed up at him. "Can you repeat that question?"
"Tsk." Moriarty glanced over at Tom's furious expression and raised his voice deliberately.
"This Cruciatus was cast silently and without a wand. To stand still and do nothing in the face of Lord Voldemort—how insulting."
Mrs. Malfoy thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
To remain unmoved by Voldemort's attacks was indeed the greatest insult.
"If it were me alone," she said lightly, "I'd have dodged. But I knew you wouldn't let your little nephew cause too much trouble."
Smart woman.
She hadn't framed it as being protected by Moriarty—she framed it as Moriarty protecting her just to annoy Tom.
Moriarty smirked in approval.
And the term "little nephew" was music to his ears.
Tom stood with fists clenched and eyes filled with venom. He could only curse silently:
Wretched—filthy—how dare they…
But he dared not act again.
The wandless Cruciatus had been his ace—his hidden card.
Now that card was nullified.
He might have cast Avada Kedavra, but without sufficient soul and vitality—he couldn't channel the power.
Then—
A thought.
The Basilisk.
Tom's eyes flickered with hope.
He had subdued the serpent beneath Hogwarts. If only he could lure Moriarty into the Chamber of Secrets… let the Basilisk feast.
The problem was how.
This one isn't easily fooled...
Tom pondered silently.
"Don't bother trying to lure me into the Chamber."
Moriarty's voice broke into his thoughts.
"If you mean the Basilisk left behind by Salazar Slytherin, then please—show some respect. Her name is Shiva. I've already returned her to Slytherin Castle, and she's quite sweet, actually. Not scary at all."
Tom stood paralyzed.
It felt like being told your brand-new Firebolt was a hand-me-down from your neighbor.
He had labored months to find the Chamber, faced mortal danger taming the beast—he'd nearly been eaten.
And now Moriarty had stolen his serpent?
The Basilisk never even told me her name!
Rage overwhelmed him.
His temples pulsed.
He was being cornered—humiliated—outclassed.
And worst of all… Moriarty was reading his every thought.
"…Legilimency."
Tom said it aloud, his voice cracking with bitter recognition.
Immediately, he threw up his Occlumency defenses.
But Moriarty's voice was already mocking.
"Too late. If you were this sluggish in a real duel, you'd already be under my control—making an utter fool of yourself."
"Making a fool of me?" came a soft murmur nearby.
Mrs. Malfoy's eyes sparkled. "You mean… you learned Legilimency to make people do strange things?"
She gave him a suspicious look, then subtly shuffled a few inches away from him.
Moriarty sighed.
Wolf-like. This woman had a predatory imagination.
"Enough!"
Tom's scream echoed through the chamber.
"I'm sick of your games—your teasing—your flirting in front of me!"
His eyes burned with hatred.
"You—pure-blood wench! You side with him over me?"
He pointed at Moriarty with shaking hands.
"Then join him—in hell!"
BOOM!
The entire Slytherin dormitory shook violently. Stone trembled beneath their feet.
Mrs. Malfoy grabbed onto Moriarty, barely able to stay upright.
Moriarty's feet, covered in frost, fused slightly to the floor—anchored, unmoved.
Tom's body began to flicker.
A ripple of black magic surged.
Then—he changed.
His body stretched and morphed. The boy vanished—replaced by a giant black serpent with eyes like twin pits of malice.
It lunged.
Mrs. Malfoy gasped, terror racing through her veins.
"Moriarty! He's trying to swallow us—do something!"
But Moriarty stood unmoving, eyes contemplative.
He glanced upward at the massive fangs descending—too late.
The dormitory vanished, swallowed whole by shadows.
The serpent's maw engulfed them.
Mrs. Malfoy's world turned black.
She lost consciousness.
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