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"We need to make it quick, the next class starts in ten minutes," Nicolás urged.

After stressful days, Harry and Ron had requested to see Nicolás, rather desperately. With how high tensions were, the professor had been more rigid and very worried, taking every single student from classroom to classroom, keeping constant vigilance on them and their moves at all times.

Nicolás and Caelum had tried all week to speak with either McGonagall or Sprout, to no avail, as neither of the professors seemed to be able to spear a single minute to hear them, and Dumbledore was so out of reach, leaving them no option but to wait.

"We were talking about how the Basilisk is moving through the plumbery," said Harry. Nicolás nodded.

"And we believe is the bathroom! Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," said Ron.

"We need to get to the staffroom and speak with McGonagall, then," said Nicolás.

"She'll be there in ten minutes! It's nearly break," urged Harry.

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staffroom. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. They paced the room, waiting for the bell to ring.

But the bell to signal the break never came. Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."

Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron and Nicolás. "Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast.

"We should go back to the dormitories," Nicolás suggested.

"No," said Harry desperate, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

Nicolás was about to argue with them, but Harry gave him those desperate and pleading puppy eyes. He sighed. Don't blame him, he had never had to take care of anyone more than a few days younger, and Harry was adorable.

They hid themselves inside the wardrobe, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staffroom door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staffroom. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

Professor Flitwick burst into tears with Professor Sprout patting his back trying to console him.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Nicolás felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him. Crouching to his level, Nicolás brought Ron's crestfallen face, pressing it to his side, a firm hand on the boy's head.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said..."

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, They were all sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I — well, I —" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall —"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape steely. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues. And for the first time in the entire year, Snape didn't sound so insufferable.

"I — I really never — you may have misunderstood —"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble. And Nicolás bit his lips in delight.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll — I'll be in my office, getting — getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

The teachers rose and left, one by one. At last, they left the wardrobe, Ron silently sobbing, his face hidden in Nicolás chest, as he patted the boy's head, Harry rubbing his back.

Nicolás guided them back to their dorms, looking down at the Marauder's Map; thankfully, both Ron and Harry were too preoccupied in their own heads to argue anything.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

After leaving them on the staircase, Nicolás made his way to the basement. The Hufflepuff common room was, as expected, completely overcrowded. Opening his dorm door, he was quickly enveloped by two arms, his face pressed against a warm and hard chest.

"Woah — Not that I don't appreciate it, Cake, but what do I owe the pleasure to?" he said grinning.

Cedric moved back, gripping his shoulders, and looking slightly ashen. "Where, in Merlin's name, were you?"

"Talking with Harry and Ron," Nicolás said.

Cedric gave him an outrageous look, before it completely saddened. "You need to make up your bags."

"I know, thank Merlin, my stuff is almost all there, anyway." He hugged Cedric again, taking in the boy's warmth and his slightly spicy cologne.

After the worry ran out of his expression, Cedric looked almost heartbroken.

"I never thought something like this would ever happen," he said, defeatedly falling on his bed. "One guy died when I was in my first year, but for this to happen—"

"I don't even want to think what the Weasleys are feeling right now," Nicolás muttered, his heart heavy in his chest. His mind was racing, trying to come up with ways to help the situation. "I think — they said they'll send Lockhart to find the Chamber — perhaps I can tell him what I know, he's completely useless, but maybe it'll help, right?"

Cedric looked at him for a moment, before nodding. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Nicolás shook his head, squeezing Cedric's shoulder with a smile. "You should rest, I don't think it'll take long, anyway."

But before leaving, Nicolás took a small muggle recording device his mother sent a few weeks ago, an idea in the back of his mind.

Nearing Lockhart's office, Nicolás noticed Harry's and Ron's name tags on the map; they were approaching.

"What are the two of you doing here?" His voice made both boys jump.

"Merlin! Nico! You almost give us a heart attack," muttered Ron, a hand on his heart.

"Guess we all thought of doing the same?" asked Nicolás.

Nodding, Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh — Mr. Potter — Mr. Weasley — Mr. Cardona," he said, opening the door a bit wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment — if you would be quick —"

"Lockhart, we've got some information for you," said Nicolás in a stern voice.

"We think it'll help you," said Harry.

"Er — well — it's not terribly —" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean — well — all right —"

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnightblue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

Nicolás let out an unfunny chuckle, taking out the device from his robes and turning it on.

"Are you going somewhere?" said Harry.

"Isn't it obvious, Harry? He's running away," said Nicolás in a cold voice, eyeing daggers at the man. "Like a scared runt with his tail between his legs," he added bitterly. Lockhart seemed to gulp, but couldn't fight his words.

"Urgent call — unavoidable — got to go —"

"What about my sister?" said Ron jerkily, walking up to the man with a crestfallen expression.

"Well, as to that — most unfortunate —" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I —"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well — I must say — when I took the job —" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "Nothing in the job description — didn't expect —"

"Should've expected you to be a coward," Nicolás accused.

"After all that stuff you did in your books —"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on —"

Nicolás could feel his face getting red in rage with every word the man uttered.

"Don't you see it?" Nicolás spoke, his daggering and steely eyes never leaving Lockhart's. "He's nothing but a fraud. Even Dumbledore recognizes this man doesn't know how to do anything. He's only been going around stealing other people's accomplishments and putting his name over theirs."

"It's not nearly as simple as that." Lockhart defended hastily. "There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long, hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

By the moment he pulled out his wand and turned to them, Nicolás' was already pointing in his direction. Not even Harry or Ron saw it coming.

"Awfully sorry, boys —"

"Expelliarmus!"

Lockhart fell backward, his wand flying straight to Nicolás' hand. Both wands pointed at him. "You, utter fool," Nicolás hissed under his breath.

"What d'you want me to do?" whined Lockhart weakly from the floor. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"You're in luck," said Harry, as Nicolás forced Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "We think we know where it is. And what's inside it. Move."

In a matter of minutes, they entered the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Harry.

Nicolás' eyes snapped at Harry, clearly, that didn't seem like a very polite question. Harry merely shrugged sheepishly, but Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Nicolás.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face, feeling Nicolás wand pressed against his lower back.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as Harry tried to use the sink.

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But —" Harry thought hard. "Open up," he said.

"That's English, Little One," Nicolás said out loud.

One moment Harry looked back at the sink, and started to hiss loudly, the next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

"You can go first," Nicolás snarled, moving Lockhart at wandpoint towards the sink.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

"Boys," he said, his voice feeble. "Boys, what good will it do?" Nicolás jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe.

"I really don't think —" he started to say, but Nicolás kicked his back, and he slid out of sight. With a smile, Harry followed quickly, then Ron, and lastly Nicolás.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and he knew that he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons.

And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Lockhart was getting to his feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost.

"We must be miles under the school," said Harry, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," said Ron, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

All three of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead.

"Lumos Maxima!" Nicolás muttered to his wand, and it lit again.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

"Remember," Harry said quietly as they walked cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes right away..."

But the tunnel was quiet as a grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Harry lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Ginny might look like if they found her,

"Harry — there's something up there —" said Ron hoarsely, grabbing Harry's shoulder.

They froze, watching. Nicolás could just see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.

"Maybe it's asleep," he breathed, glancing back at the other two.

Lockhart's hands were pressed over his eyes. Harry turned back to look at the thing, his heart beating so fast it hurt.

Squinting his eyes, Nicolás finally understood the image in front of them, letting out a choked squeal.

"Oh, my Merlin," it was a large, shed skin from the Basilisk. Nicolás approached, making sure to take multiple samples of the skin. "I'm almost sure Newt Scamander's old heart will stop when I send him this! All of you, take some, just in case." He handed the other three, skin samples, even if confused, they took it, guarding it in their robes.

Suddenly, Lockhart faked to fall, before diving at Ron, and snatched his broken wand.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school — Thank you, Mr. Cardona — I'll tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body — say good-bye to your memories!" He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, "Obliviate!"

At the same time, Nicolás yelled, with his wand pointed upfront, "Depulso Maxima!"

The wand in Lockhart's hand exploded with the force of a small bomb; mixed with the impact from the Banishing Charm, Lockhart's body was propelled backward a few meters.

Nicolás used his body to cover Harry. As great chunks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to the floor, they ran back.

"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Are you okay?"

"Ron!" Nicolás yelled.

"I'm here!" came Ron's muffled voice from behind the rockfall. "I'm okay — this git's not, though — he got blasted by the wand —"

"Serves him right" muttered Nicolás. "Ron, listen to me, try to knock him out with a rock or something, try not to kill him, please. But —"

And before Nicolás could finish, a loud "Ow!" was heard from the other side, then a soft thud.

"Done! He's out cold, what am I supposed to do now?" yelled Ron.

Nicolás and Harry chuckled.

"You wait for us there, don't strain yourself with the rocks, I'll move them when we come back. Just keep an eye on that git, okay?" said Nicolás.

"Okay!" answered Ron.

"See you in a bit," said Harry, trying to inject some confidence into his shaking voice. And they set off past the giant snake skin.

Soon the distant noise of Ron arguing alone was gone. The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Nicolás' body was tingling unpleasantly. He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what they'd find when it did. Harry's hand in his was a double help, calming them both.

And then, at last, as they crept around yet another bend, they saw a solid wall ahead, on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

With a small encouraging push, Harry approached, his throat very dry. There was no need to pretend these stone snakes were real; their eyes looked strangely alive.

He could guess what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker.

Then, after a low, faint hiss, the serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry, shaking from head to foot, looked back at Nicolás. Intertwining their hands once more, and after a deep breath, they walked inside.

Minutes later, they were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

Nicolás' heart was beating very fast, and he knew Harry's too, they stood listening to the chill silence. Could the Basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Ginny?

With a flick of his wand, a soft light showed them the path, and they moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following them. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir.

Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.

They had to crane their necks to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

"Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her, before Nicolás could restrain him, he dropped to his knees next to the body. "Ginny — don't be dead — please don't be dead —" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be —

Nicolás walked with long and gentle steps to approach.

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice from behind them.

Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. Nicolás drew his wand, pointing it at the figure emerging from the shadows.

A tall, black-haired, and very handsome boy—not that Nicolás was going to mention his appearance, anyway— was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though they were looking at him through a misted window. Funnily enough, it didn't take any of his attractiveness away.

"Tom — Tom Riddle?" Harry muttered.

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face, before they fell on Nicolás, curious.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not — she's not —?"

"She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

"How are you supposed to look like a teenager if you came here fifty years ago?" Nicolás pressed, his voice steely.

"Smart questions," muttered Riddle with a smirk.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Nicolás' eyes narrowed, head leaning to the side. "We both know that's not truth. You must be something more than a mere memory."

Riddle's smirk widened. "How... cunning of you, for a Hufflepuff, that is."

Picking apart Riddle's character in his mind, Nicolás smirked too. "The Hat said I could've been in Slytherin."

Tutting, Riddle nodded, slowly walking towards them, "Yes, I can see it."

Looking down at Harry for a moment, Nicolas saw something. Lying open there, was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk... I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment... Please, help me —"

Riddle didn't stop. Harry, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny half off the floor, letting his wand fall. I rolled on the floor, and before Nicolás could move, Riddle had already taken it.

"Did you see —?"

Riddle was still watching them— twirling Harry's wand between his long fingers.

"Thanks," said Harry, stretching out his hand for it.

A smile curled the corners of Riddle's mouth. He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly. And the weight of understanding heavied on the pit of Nicolás' stomach.

"Listen," said Harry urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny's dead weight. "We've got to go! If the basilisk comes —"

"It won't come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.

Harry lowered Ginny back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any longer.

"What d'you mean?" he said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it —"

Riddle's smile broadened.

"You won't be needing it," he said.

"What d'you mean, I won't be —?" Harry spoke.

"It's him, Harry," Nicolás spoke, as realization still hitting him like a lightning. "He's the one behind it all." Riddle's smirk widened even more, looking at him almost fascinated. "He is the Heir of Slytherin, he controls the Basilisk."

"Bravo!" said Riddle with a predatory smirk, opening his arms, Nicolás' grasp on his wand tightened, still pointed at Riddle. "It's good to see that the fascinating of the outside reflects that of the inside."

"Now, it matters not how much you fascinate me, little Hufflepuff, I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," said Riddle, turning back to Harry. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you. And we're going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry's wand.

Nicolás needed to come up with something to take Riddle's focus from Harry.

"I think the question that begs to be asked is, how could a simple memory have possessed a girl?" Nicolás asked slowly, making special emphasis on memory.

"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how" — Riddle's eyes glinted — "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her...."

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face.

"So, basically, she poured her whole soul into you?" Nicolás said. When they came back to him, once more, there was an almost hungry look in Riddle's eyes, and his smile sent more information for Nicolás' mind puzzle.

"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom... I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket...."

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Nicolás' neck.

"If I say it myself, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So, yes, little Hufflepuff, Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her..."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.

"He's been using her, Harry," Riddle's hungry eyes came back to Nicolás at his words. "He possessed her, he's been feeding on her. Him, standing there, is the reason Ginny's dying."

Riddle smiled, and from his throat came a sound that sounded like a... purr? Whatever it was, it wasn't comforting, like Ember's purring, it felt like a lion's purring in contentment before sinking his teeth in the antelope's neck.

"Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No," Harry whispered.

"Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries... far more interesting, they became... Dear Tom," he recited, watching Harry's horrified face, "I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes, and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked, and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale, and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery — particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue... So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her... She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last... I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Nicolás spat, fists still clenched.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "You, I'd get it," he said, looking at Nicolás, before turning to Harry, "But you, how is it that you — a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent — managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time..."

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "Is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

I Am Lord Voldemort

"Tom," Nicolás chuckled, "Such a pretty name, I'll keep calling you Tommy."

Riddle glared at him intensely for a moment, before speaking, "You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry — I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"You're not," he said, his quiet voice full of hatred and spite.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school, and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days —"

The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted.

Riddle opened his mouth but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Nicolás' scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Nicolás felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye. The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle.

"That's a Phoenix..." said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"Fawkes?" Harry breathed, and he felt the bird's golden claws squeeze his shoulder gently.

"And that —" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat —"

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry's feet.

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark Chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once —

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now? Your pretty Hufflepuff could do much better."

Harry didn't answer. He might not see what use Fawkes or the Sorting Hat were, but he was not alone, and he waited for Riddle to stop laughing with his courage mounting.

"To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice — in your past, in my future — we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you—"

Nicolás' feet were damped, his back hurt, and his arm was already starting to feel numb from pointing his wand; Voldemort seemed to have always had been equally dramatic, but Nicolás was already tired. And as a funny idea sparkled in his mind, he smirked.

"Melofors!" he cried, and in an instant, Riddle's head was replaced by a big pumpkin, making him fall. The impact from the fall made the pumpkin explode.

"Let's get this over with, Riddle. We don't have all day, and neither do you."

Riddle stood up again, Nicolás was laughing, and Harry seemed a little lifted by that. But Riddle was not amused, not at all. He looked outraged and furious.

"How dare you," he spat at them, before walking away. He stopped between the high pillars and looked up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed.

Nicolás and Harry turned to look at the statue, but Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving, his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole. And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

As the gigantic serpent settled on the floor, Riddle hissed one more, loudly, and just as venomously as the Basilisk. And the creature started to move towards Harry. But Nicolás knew that Riddle's entire attention was on him now.

Nicolás' eyes were glued to the floor, and he gave about ten steps back, before turning back and hiding behind a stone pillar.

"I've always felt drawn to equal minds, but that stunt you pulled there will have its deserved punishment, little Hufflepuff."

Nicolás stopped for a moment, thinking about how ridiculous his conversations with Riddle had been. "Do you have a punishment kink, or something?"

As Harry ran, with the Basilisk at his heels, and Fawkes above them, Nicolás looked back at Riddle. His face was contorted in rage.

"Insolent brat," he spat, raising Harry's wand. "Crucio!"

As he moved to the side, Nicolás felt the beam of magic, dark magic, mere inches from his face, it hit the wall behind. As he dived and rolled, avoiding different yells of, "Crucio!" he gained space.

They started to walk around each other, like lions preparing to pounce.

"You could be great if you had it in you, little Hufflepuff. I'm sorry, I never got your name," Riddle spoke. And Nicolás smirked, this was his chance; he needed answers.

"The name's Nicolás, but I'll allow you to call me Nico, Tommy."

Riddle's right eye seemed to twitch at the pet name, but he quickly disguised his face with a charming smile.

"You could do great things, with the right guidance, Sweet, I'll make you see that," Riddle said, "Crucio!"

Nicolás dived to the side, "Stupefy!" And Riddle blocked it with a shield.

"How could a maniac, purity-obsessed, dark wizard, show me guidance?"

"Let me shape you, and you'll see," said Riddle, looking at him like a wolf to a sheep after a winter without food.

After another three circles walked, and five more Cruciatus Curses dodged, Harry was long gone from sight, and so was the Basilisk.

With equally heavy breathing, Nicolás spoke.

"What I can't seem to understand, is why you claim to be just a memory. It makes no sense." Riddle stopped his walking, and so did Nicolás. "You are Lord Voldemort — someone as great — as powerful — skilled as you, wouldn't leave a pathetic memory behind, in hopes of recovering his power in the future."

Riddle's predatory smile only widened. "Perhaps you simply are too cunning to be a Hufflepuff, Nico." The way he said his name, almost as if tasting a new delicious food, sent a shock through all the nerves down his spine; not a good one, though.

"Come on, Tommy, you know I'm right. You can't possibly be a memory. A memory is a simple moment frozen in time. You—you are much more than that, no memory could ever have so much—" He tried to find the right word to describe it, until it sparkled, "—soul."

Riddle's hungry grin seemed to be close to popping out of his face, he seemed delighted. And Nicolás knew that the wolf was about to give his last pounce, jaws opened and taste buds dying to taste him.

"You already know too much for your own good, Nico," and he raised his wand once more. Nico knew deep down what curse was about to come.

Panicked, and feeling his heart in his throat, Nicolás pointed his wand to the ground, crying, "Terra!" just as Riddle cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

And, as a jet of blinding green light emerged from the tip of Harry's wand, multiple tall blocks of rock emerged from the floor. The Killing Curse had such potency, that it broke more than half of them before it stopped.

"You know Tommy," spoke Nicolás from behind the rock, "I think it's time to wrap this up," and he walked out with his wand pointed at Riddle.

"Obscuro!" he cried. And in an instant, a blindfold covered Riddle's eyes. He growled in rage, before Nicolás pointed his wand at the floor at his feet. "Glacius!" And the floor froze, making him move his feet fastly, in a comical manner, to stay balanced.

Finally, Nicolás cried, "Depulso Maxima!" And Riddle's scrambling frame was propelled in the air, sliding through the floor, stopping near where Basilisk's dead body was.

Harry was seated on the other side of the Chamber, close to Ginny. His arm was bloody, and his breathing erratic.

After a quick "Expelliarmus!" and with Harry's wand secured, Nicolás ran to Harry's side, dropping to his knees, taking the boy's body, which was giving up from exhaustion. There was a nasty wound on his forearm, where the Basilisk's fang had pierced his skin.

As the adrenaline rush from the duel passed, reality hit Nicolás like no big debris falling on his head could. Harry was going to die. The Basilisk venom was impossible to cure, and it killed anything it touched. Harry probably felt the same, his imminent doom; for his body reclined in Nicolás' side, trying to find any warm in the cold chamber.

With tear-filled eyes, his heart hammering in his throat, and the heaviest weight downing in the pit of his stomach, Nicolás could only bring Harry's tired body closer to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," Nicolás choked. A wet trail downing both his cheeks.

"It's okay," croaked Harry.

"No, it's not okay. I promised to protect you, and I failed."

"It's our fault. We should've listened to you," Harry lamented, pressing his face harder on Nicolás' chest.

Suddenly, alongside heavy footsteps, a high laugh echoed throughout the chamber.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry. Not even your Hufflepuff can save you."

A sudden rage started to fill Nicolás, making him see red, and not from Harry's blood.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time... but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must..."

"Shut up!" Nicolás bellowed. From the tip of his wand, a blinding blue beam came and hit Riddle's chest, propelling his body against a wall.

Suddenly, Fawkes flew to them. His red and golden glow bathed them, and Nicolás saw not only bravery in it, but also hope, one last, desperate hope.

Phoenix tears. They had one of the most potent healing factors known to wizardkind. Their tears had the power enough to bring someone back from the brink of death, just like Harry.

"Fawkes!" Nicolás called desperate. The bird looked at him. "Please! Dumbledore sent you. Please, don't let him die," Nicolás pleaded.

Fawkes looked into his eyes, their shared language filling the space. Then, he took fly, landing on Nicolás' shoulder. Nicolás took Harry's arm, exposing his wound. Fawkes looked down, letting many of his tears fall right into it. And the wound started to heal itself in seconds. Letting Harry's perfect bronze skin as if never touched.

Then, Fawkes flew away, only to return moments later, dropping Riddle's diary on the floor, next to a Basilisk fang.

For a split second, both Nicolás and Harry stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, and flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing, and then —

He was gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter, and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip-drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Standing to their feet, Nicolás enveloped Harry in a tight embrace.

"I was so scared," he lamented.

"Me too. But you know what calmed me?" Harry asked. Nicolás shook his head. "That you were there for me."

"Ow, Little One," Nicolás pressed Harry's face on his chest, not giving a single fuck about all the ink over them. "Let's get the hell out of here."

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