"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 185: Is There Really Such a Thing as a Free Gift?
"We can certainly give that a try." As someone who'd walked this path before, Dumbledore considered Wyzett's theory for a moment, then gave his nod of approval.
"So, let's adjust the approach. Clear your mind as before… but this time, focus on the end of last year—recall your confrontation with Voldemort…"
To make the memory as vivid as possible, Wyzett lifted his wand and cast a mental spell, drawing forth the memories from the close of the previous school year.
As those recollections surfaced, the ritual circle on the floor suddenly flared to life.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
A deep, pulsing rhythm filled his ears. Instinctively, Wyzett pressed his hand to his chest—he realized it was the sound of his own heartbeat.
The rhythm spread outward, as did the ritual's glow… and his consciousness expanded with it.
When he came back to himself, he found he was inside Salazar Slytherin's Chamber.
He felt as if he'd become the Chamber itself—aware of every inch of the space, the swirling dust motes, the shimmering green haze… and a young man in Hogwarts robes.
…
The young wizard's chest bore the house crest—a silver serpent on a field of green—marking him as a member of Slytherin House.
It didn't take much to recognize him: this was Voldemort in his student days at Hogwarts.
Young Voldemort was striking—pale skin, sharp features, and eyes and hair as black as midnight. Compared to the Voldemort of last year, the difference was almost unbridgeable.
The young version was handsome; last year's Voldemort… had looked all too human.
A basilisk slithered out from the shadows. Compared to the shed skin Wyzett had seen before, this creature was even more immense—at least fifteen meters long.
Yet the young Voldemort showed no fear. He closed his eyes and began to hiss in Parseltongue: "Come! Let us forge the contract! I'm ready!"
Wyzett could sense it—in the instant those sibilant words left his lips, a magical bond formed between the young wizard and the basilisk.
The serpent circled him clockwise, coiling tighter and tighter, until it was wrapped around him completely.
As the basilisk's coils squeezed more tightly, young Voldemort's pale skin took on a bruised, purplish hue.
But still, the serpent did not relent—only when blood began to seep from Voldemort's skin did it finally pause.
The basilisk flicked its tongue, savoring the pearl-sized droplets of blood.
Apparently satisfied, it suddenly opened its massive jaws and bit down, swallowing young Voldemort at the waist.
Its fangs were like curved sabers, slicing through flesh and bone with a muffled, sickening thud.
Most of Voldemort's body vanished into the serpent's maw, yet his face betrayed no pain. Instead, he wore a wild, exultant grin—like a fuse set alight, blazing with manic brilliance.
That smile faded, replaced by a look of cold cruelty. In Parseltongue, he hissed, "Take it! Everything I have left!"
"Take it all! I don't want it! That wretched fig leaf that masks base instinct—I offer it to you! Take it, every last bit!"
This time, the basilisk responded in kind: "Good!"
It raised its head high. The body that should have been torn asunder remained miraculously whole.
Between its jaws shone a sphere of white light, no larger than a fist—radiant and warm.
The basilisk tipped its head back and swallowed the light, its huge yellow eyes narrowing in deep satisfaction.
The magical link between man and serpent solidified, taking on the shifting, iridescent pattern of basilisk scales.
Those colors traced the path of blood droplets on Voldemort's skin, seeping into his body and staining his flesh with a similar iridescence.
The patterns gathered at his forehead, morphing into a familiar symbol—"?"—which seemed to slither and shift, transforming into another symbol.
"Petrification… death… so, two properties?" Young Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "No! Petrification… is useless! I want the ultimate death! Pure, absolute death!"
The symbol faded, and the iridescence vanished. His skin turned pitch black—murky, chaotic.
The "?" on his forehead seemed to pulse with a heartbeat. With each throb, the darkness receded a little, and the symbol grew deeper, more profound…
Suddenly, Wyzett understood: the Commandment Voldemort had claimed was "death."
At the end of last year, Wyzett had destroyed Voldemort, leaving behind only the empty shell of that "death" Commandment—the Dark Mark.
When Wyzett touched the basilisk's shed skin, the shell of the "death" Commandment resonated with it, creating a new shell—one capable of holding the "petrification" property.
But it was only a shell, because what he'd touched was just the basilisk's cast-off skin—an empty husk.
If he wanted to truly claim the "petrification" Commandment, he would need to face the basilisk directly—to fill the shell and truly possess that power.
And when the basilisk bit young Voldemort, the white light it tore free was the price paid to acquire the "death" Commandment.
Not some contract to be endlessly fulfilled, but… emotion.
From Voldemort's words about "the fig leaf that disguises reproductive instinct," Wyzett realized: the price paid was "love."
When the basilisk devoured that love, Voldemort lost it forever—and the contract was sealed.
So now, the Commandment in Wyzett's possession required no further vows, no additional sacrifice.
The revelation stunned him. He opened his eyes, whispering in disbelief, "Is there really such a thing as a free gift?"
"Wyzett, what do you mean, a free gift?" Dumbledore hurried over, concern in his voice. "What price must you pay?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I… I don't have to pay anything." Wyzett grinned, still incredulous. "Because Voldemort already paid it. He gave up his capacity for love."
"Love?" Dumbledore frowned, puzzled. "What exactly did you see just now?"
"Memoria Exhaurire!" Wyzett raised his wand, extracting the memory with a mental spell. "Here, Headmaster Dumbledore—this is what I witnessed…"
"At the very least, this proves two things. First, my Commandment is unique—I don't need to fulfill any contract or pay any price."
"Second, my Commandment is still just a shell. I need to face the basilisk directly, to fill that shell—and only then will I truly possess the 'petrification' Commandment."
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