— — — — — —
A tall, black-haired boy appeared, standing on the toe of Salazar Slytherin's grotesque stone statue. Mist curled around him, blurring his outline so no one could clearly make out his face.
"Not enough yet?"
Tom pulled out another five pounds of dragon's blood and poured it into the diary.
Finally, the mist and haze nearly vanished, and the boy's form grew solid.
Harry could now see his face.
The boy's nose was straight, his eyes deep and piercing, his features sharper and more defined than most people's. By looks alone, Harry had rarely seen anyone more flawless—
Except for Tom, standing right beside him.
"Tom… this is Voldemort?" Harry began to doubt again.
He'd seen Voldemort before. Just last year he'd faced that hideous, noseless monster. There was absolutely nothing similar between that disgusting face and the handsome young man before him, whose charm could practically make people lose their senses.
"No need to doubt. I'm little Voldy—damn it, I mean Lord Voldemort." He started with a smile, but some words slipped out first before he caught himself. Composing his expression, Voldy studied Harry carefully.
"The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. I've been waiting for you a long time." Voldemort looked down at Harry, his tone lofty. "I paid a great price just to have this conversation."
"Conversation's fine, but settle the payment first." Tom blocked Harry from speaking. "Where's that legacy you promised?"
Voldemort's brow furrowed for an instant, then smoothed out again. His gaze fell on the wand in Harry's hand. He chuckled.
"I'll need a wand to unlock it, Riddle. Care to gamble?"
"Harry." Tom gave him a nod.
"Tom, are you out of your mind?" Harry clutched his wand and backed away. "That's Voldemort!"
"It's not like we haven't fought him before. Even if he has a wand, he won't stir up much trouble. Don't be stingy."
When Harry still refused, Tom had no choice but to act. A sudden force yanked the wand from Harry's hand and sent it flying straight into Voldemort's grasp.
Voldemort turned it over in his hands, savoring the feel. Then, with a flick, he aimed at a stone pillar and blasted it apart with a powerful curse. He nodded in satisfaction.
"Fawkes' feather? Harry Potter, fate really ties us together. My wand also carries one of Fawkes' tail feathers, though the wood is different from yours."
"Having the same core as you is an embarrassment. I'm sure Fawkes feels the same way." Harry muttered defiantly, though his feet carried him instinctively closer to Tom.
"Your mouth is annoying, but compared to Riddle, you're still far behind."
Voldemort brushed off Harry's jab. Against Tom's sharp tongue, Harry's words didn't even qualify as whining. Harry glanced strangely at Tom, who hadn't said a word.
'Tom's mouth is that poisonous?'
He'd always thought Tom just had a bad temper. Professors, students—someone was always getting smacked around by him.
Voldemort turned the wand on Slytherin's statue, chanting under his breath. With a thunderous rumble, the statue's arm lifted, revealing a massive hollow space behind it.
"The core legacy lies within, Riddle." Voldemort spoke softly. "Truthfully, I've already given you most of what matters. With this knowledge, you're the next true heir of Slytherin, free to wield it as you like."
He gave a quiet laugh. "I know how strong you'll become in the future, Riddle. When my true self learns what I've done here, do you think he'll hate me for raising such a powerful rival—someone who might block him from becoming the greatest wizard in the world?"
"The greatest wizard isn't you. It's Dumbledore." Harry cut him off without hesitation.
Voldemort's handsome face immediately darkened, his features twisting into something feral.
"Dumbledore? He's just a useless old man. He's never been able to stop me."
"It was Riddle who noticed my uniqueness, who pulled me out of Ginny Weasley's hands. Dumbledore was clueless, like a doddering fool. He had no way to deal with me! In the end, he gave me right back to Tom Riddle!"
The words hit Harry like a storm. It took him a moment to fully process what Voldemort meant: Dumbledore had known about the diary all along, and he'd still handed it over to Tom.
'That's not an enemy move—that's practically helping one of your own!'
Whatever trace of doubt Harry had left completely vanished. Confidence surged back into him as he said firmly, "Say whatever you want, it won't change the truth. Right now, the greatest wizard is Dumbledore. In the future, it'll be someone else or even Tom. But you, at any point in time, are just a loser."
Voldemort sneered. "Harry Potter, I recently picked up a saying from Riddle— 'Barking dogs seldom bite.' That phrase fits you perfectly."
Harry's face went red. As much as he hated to admit it, the phrase wasn't entirely wrong.
"Enough. Your wish has been granted." Tom broke the tension, his tone flat. "Summon the basilisk and you're done. I'll hand you over to Dumbledore, and you won't have to keep suffering here."
He'd already tried speaking to Slytherin's statue himself earlier, but got no reaction. Maybe it disdained his bloodline?
'If the system ever drags Salazar Slytherin back as my teacher, I'll make sure to wipe that smug look right off his face.'
"Very well, Riddle. I'll grant your wish." Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "But whether you live to leave this place—that depends on your skill."
He turned toward the massive stone face of Slytherin and hissed in Parseltongue: "Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"
The gigantic stone carving stirred. Its mouth stretched wider and wider until it became a gaping black tunnel. Something inside slithered and scraped as it moved.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light split the air. Voldemort laughed wildly as he hurled the Killing Curse at Tom, only for Tom to flick it aside with his wand, shattering slabs of stone in the process.
"You've tormented me countless times. Today, Riddle, either join me here or be killed. Following Dumbledore will only lead you to ruin!"
Voldy unleashed a barrage of silent curses, spells flying like arrows. Having absorbed the life force and energy of more than ten pounds of dragon blood, Voldemort was like a weed without roots—his power would eventually burn out, but for now, he could still unleash bursts of strength rivaling his prime.
Silent curses, instant-cast spells, vicious black magic—Voldemort flaunted his talent without restraint.
This was the genius who had created a Horcrux at sixteen. The direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Tom twisted his wrist, wand reversed in his grip. Red light burst forth, expanding in waves that dissolved every spell they touched.
Trying to tank those unknown curses with a Shield Charm would've been suicidal—who knew if some of them, like the Killing Curse, could simply pierce through defenses?
"Harry, your wand's not so pure anymore."
Tom even had the presence of mind to throw a jab over his shoulder at Harry, who by now was lying flat on the floor, reducing his chances of getting hit. At the same time, Tom stretched out his hand and summoned the diary into his grasp.
Voldemort's face twisted with rage. "Tom Riddle—you've got no honor left in you!"
"Fight me like a man."
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