Chapter 37: 5

"Draco!!"

Harry dashed toward his sleeping form. As he ran, he scooped up the wand that had clattered to the floor.

"Harry, you mustn't lose your wand. You’re a wizard, aren't you?"

"Oh... s-sorry, Maria. Look, Draco... can we carry him ourselves? Should we call for help...? But what if the Basilisk comes while we're gone...?"

"—The Basilisk won't come. Not unless it is called."

The voice was chilling. Yet, beneath the words, there was a trace of a phantom laugh.

A handsome boy stood in the distance, his silhouette shimmering like a heat haze. He had black hair and dark eyes; had the situation been any different, one might have gasped at how remarkably handsome he was.

He wasn't a ghost, nor was he like Peeves the Poltergeist. He was a manifestation of pure, incorporeal malice—someone strangely, hauntingly familiar.

"...Who are you?"

"Tom Riddle."

Riddle gave a faint, hollow smile as he answered the question I had posed on Harry’s behalf.

"So, you did know me after all. I’ve been wary of you. Maria Potter? I was certain I only sent an invitation to Harry."

"Is attacking only those close to Harry your idea of an 'invitation'?"

"...You’re quite sharp. In that regard, you and the boy there are well-matched."

I clenched my fists as Riddle sneered at "the boy"—at Draco.

"Maria... Tom Riddle... you mean T.M. Riddle? The one who won the Special Award for Services to the School—?"

"Heh, Harry. You noticed my trophy? I’m impressed."

I saw Harry breathe a sigh of relief as Riddle smiled, donning the mask of a polite young man. As always, he was an expert at slipping into the cracks of the human heart—especially since he and Harry shared a common destiny.

I need to buy time... I have to buy time—

"You were wary of me, so you stopped setting the Basilisk on us back in December, didn't you?"

"Yes, exactly. I knew the moment I saw you—you’re a nuisance."

"...Then what was the point of your 'confirmation' that day?"

"Hmm? ...Oh! That. Well, you were on his bed in your pajamas. I thought perhaps it meant that. ...Though it seems your relationship hadn't quite progressed that far yet."

"—And you were also checking to see if I’d noticed you lurking inside Draco."

"............Truly, a wastefully sharp mind."

His composure cracked, just a fraction. I pressed the advantage.

"Tell me—how long have you been nesting inside Draco?"

Riddle laughed with a sadistic, cruel edge. It was the face of someone who took genuine pleasure in the despair and rage of others.

"How long—I wonder? A very, very long time... since the day Lucius gave him the diary. He was seven years old, wasn't he?"

"——"

That long ago—?

"He’s remarkable. Even I found him difficult to catch off guard. Do you understand? At only seven, he tried to play a game of wits with me. He tried to extract information from me. He never truly opened his heart—and that is why it took so long."

"...You’ve been interacting with him since he was seven?"

"No, that's not quite right. He opened it at seven, but after a few exchanges, he sealed me away. It was tedious. I thought he would never open the diary again. —But the seal was broken once more. Last Christmas."

"—!"

...The Tiara. To hide the Diadem, he broke the seal, and that started everything—!

"I—the diary—am quite charming, wouldn't you say? To see it is to want to touch it. To want to open it. After all, it is so full of secrets! People are desperate to unravel me! I felt the fragment of myself I’d planted when he was seven begin to throb. And then, he brought 'me' back! —Didn't he? He was the one who found that Tiara, wasn't he?"

I bit my lip, my fists trembling.

Oh, god—how could everything have gone so wrong?

"From then on, as Halloween approached, he broke the seal every day. The rest was easy. Once touched, the fragment of me that had acclimated to him over the years forced him to open the diary. Unfortunately, because he never fully opened his heart, I couldn't get information from the boy himself—but you two were very famous. Simply walking in his body allowed me to hear all the rumors about you."

Then, Riddle looked at Harry. While Harry watched in silence, he met that gaze with steady eyes.

"Harry Potter, I have wanted to meet you."

"...Why?"

Harry let go of the hand he had resting on Draco and stood up.

"I wanted to hear it—how a tiny, powerless boy like you managed to destroy 'my future self'!"

Letters began to glow in the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE —— I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Riddle's eyes turned a blood-red.

"Harry... you and I are very much alike. Our circumstances, our talents—why, even our looks."

The exchange between Riddle and Harry continued. Tom Riddle’s past, Hagrid’s wrongful accusation, and finally—how a mother’s love had broken Voldemort's curse.

I watched with bated breath, but I was frantic.

Not yet—is it not time yet—Fawkes!

"—Dumbledore isn't as far away as you think!"

The answer to Harry’s desperate cry was—a song.

It was a beautiful bird. Crimson as fire, with a golden beak and clear, black eyes. The symbol of immortality that Tom Riddle—Voldemort—so craved.

Fawkes perched on Harry's shoulder and dropped a tattered old hat at his feet. Then, he looked at me with calm eyes.

—Yes. That’s right. I... I probably can’t pull the Sword of Loyalty.

"The Sorting Hat..."

At Harry's dazed murmur, Riddle’s rational yet manic laughter echoed through the room. He laughed as if a spring had snapped.

"Is that all Dumbledore sent! Oh—how heartening that must be, Harry Potter! Now, shall we see how you fare with that... 'weapon'?"

A hideous, hissing sound erupted from his mouth. To Harry, it must have sounded like clear words.

The mouth of the stone statue opened wide. A massive body slithered out.

A serpent that had lived a thousand years. A serpent that had slept in solitude. The poor, abandoned King of Serpents—the Basilisk had arrived.

As Harry looked up in shock, Fawkes spread his wings in front of him. While everyone’s attention was fixed on the Basilisk, I pulled open Draco’s robes.

I knew—he always kept his wand here.

"Will you fight 'me' one more time?"

—Give me your strength to stand against Voldemort. Hawthorn wand.

"Harry! Fall back without meeting its eyes! Keep your distance!"

"But Draco...!"

"—Mobilicorpus!"

I pulled Harry back by his arm while levitating Draco. I slid Draco’s body into a niche in the wall. It was a stroke of grim luck that Draco was currently in a state bordering on death; there was no worry that the heat-sensing serpent would detect him as prey.

"Oh? I thought you were unable to use a wand."

"...Not my own."

Fawkes once again offered the Sorting Hat to Harry’s hands.

"Take it, Harry!"

"I don't know how to use it!"

"It’s okay. You can do it. Dumbledore entrusted it to you. —Leave the snake to me. Fawkes, please!"

I watched Fawkes cry out and circle above the Basilisk’s head before I stepped in front of Riddle, who stood watching as if from a high gallery.

"As you can see, the Harry Potter you requested is quite busy. If you don't mind, may I be your opponent? I only just learned how to duel recently. When you learn something new, don't you just itch to try it out?"

"A duel! Well, well... and yet I have no wand? Isn't that a bit unfair?"

"Call it a handicap. I’m only a second-year, after all."

"I see, a handicap. To have a junior from a different House so dedicated to her studies... as a senior, I am truly proud. I did once aspire to be a teacher, after all. ...Very well. Let me make you understand exactly who you are facing—on your knees."

Looking into those gleaming, blood-colored eyes, I remembered the nostalgic, bitter tension of death.

I bowed deeply. I held the wand like a sword. He stood with his hands behind his back, smiling.

One—two—three——

"Crucio!"

"Impedimenta!"

I deflected the torture curse that flew without hesitation. Just that single movement made my body feel heavy. I started running. A rapid wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Though my power and wand control were sufficient—my body couldn't keep up.

"Incendio!"

"Aguamenti!"

"Duro—Reducto!"

I solidified the tsunami-like monster of water that had extinguished the flames and shattered it. No, it was too slow. Dizziness hit me. My mind was already on the next spell, but the amount of magic my body could draw out wasn't catching up at all.

Casting spells in succession was impossible. My body wouldn't hold.

"...Tch, ah!"

I tripped over rubble I thought I’d easily cleared. A flash of light passed right over me. My robes and trousers were being shredded.

Damn it—my mental projections and physical abilities are completely out of sync!

"Quite pathetic, isn't it? Didn't you say you 'knew a thing or two about physical combat'?! Maria?"

"Shut... up...! Flipendo!"

Infuriatingly, Riddle hadn't moved a single inch from his spot. I was the only one running around. Even though he was wandless—the gap in our abilities was overwhelming.

"Confru—fringo...! D-Diffindo!"

My head was spinning. I had already reached the bottom of my magical reserves. I was practically squeezing out the last drops.

I shattered a pillar to drop it on Riddle, but I didn't even have the strength to dodge the flying shards as he blasted them aside.

Just a little more—stay with me just a little longer—Hawthorn wand!

"—Maria!"

"What, are you still aliv——!?"

Finally, Riddle’s sneer fell away. Conversely, I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from turning up.

Well done—Harry.

The Sword of Gryffindor in Harry’s hand had pierced the Basilisk’s neck deep and true.

"...Buying time, was it?"

"You were more... distracted than I expected. Thanks for that, Riddle."

Without being told, Harry plunged the sword into the diary Fawkes had brought him. The blade, now imbued with Basilisk venom, undoubtedly killed Riddle.

Unlike the last time, Riddle laughed even as he vomited gouts of ink-blood from the diary. —He sneered at me.

"Maria, let me tell you one last thing. If something is truly precious—you should never take your eyes off the hostage."

"——"

The moment a hiss escaped Riddle’s mouth, I bolted. Harry hadn't noticed.

The Basilisk, though blind—used its final spark of life to snap its fangs.

"——Protego."

Squelch.

"............Maria?"

The Cypress wand fell from my hand. I had no magic left. Surely—that Protego had been drawn from my very life force.

I finally understand you now. —My wand.

"Basil... isk..."

For some reason, my stomach felt hot, then cold; it was a strange sensation. I reached out and stroked the snout of the sightless Basilisk lying right there.

We were probably the first ones to ever truly look into your eyes. —I feel a bit sorry for Salazar.

"Salazar is gone now. ...Goodnight, Basilisk."

The lonely serpent that had waited for its only friend was finally, finally able to close its eyes.

The Protego I had cast over Draco shattered the moment the Basilisk fell. As the fang slid out of my abdomen, I collapsed from where I had been suspended between the two. There was a wet thud, like fruit being crushed.

"—MARIA!! Maria—Maria!"

I could hear Harry screaming. If he yelled like that, he’d tear his throat. Flames flickered in my blurred vision. Is that Fawkes? Is he crying for me? Even if the wound closes, even if the venom fades, I think I’ve lost too much blood. Hemorrhaging. Harry’s crying. Sorry for scaring you. It's scary, isn't it? I was really scared, too.

I really am no good with people crying.

You’re a bigger crybaby than I am, after all. And yet, you’re always the one who finds me when I’m dying.

You have terrible luck sometimes.

You look more like you’re dying than I do, yet you cry so much more. Your eyes feel so warm.

They’re usually such a cold color. But in moments like this, it’s like ice melting.

Yeah, I really... I really don't like it when you cry.

"Harry, are you... are you the one dying?"