Harry tried to look relaxed. "Oh, really? What did you want to talk about?"
Draco and Ron glanced around, afraid a snake's head might suddenly appear and petrify them all. Riddle sneered. "Don't bother looking. He won't come unless he's summoned."
Harry replied, "That's good. But why is this guy lying here?"
"Interesting question," Riddle said cheerfully. "The real reason Gilderoy Lockhart ended up like this was that he was too weak, yet yearned for power. And he opened up about all of it to a stranger."
"Huh?"
"The diary." Riddle seemed pleased by the confusion on the three boys' faces. "My diary. All this time, that damned old man had been writing his innermost thoughts in it, telling me all about his heartrending troubles and sorrows.
"He told me how he'd erased his companions' memories and stolen their experiences for himself. How he'd forced himself into the lives of famous people and used them for his own gain. He even thought that the famous, kind, great Harry Potter and he were kindred spirits. I didn't know you had that sort of hobby, Harry."
"Oh, definitely not. I'm sick of all those photographers."
Riddle nodded approvingly. His eyes were full of greed for Harry, but at the same time, he seemed to hope Harry wouldn't be easy to get, as though yearning for a worthy opponent.
"It was unbearable. He was a middle-aged man, yet his troubles were as childish as an eleven-year-old girl's." Riddle paused, as if feeling sick.
"But I played along. I wrote back to him, saying the right things. I was kind and understanding. If it weren't for my gender, he would've fallen in love with me. Oh, no one else understands me like you do. This diary is the best gift I've ever received."
Even Riddle couldn't help shuddering as he read that. Behind him, Ron and Draco were on the verge of vomiting.
"I'm not bragging, Harry, but I can easily make someone fall for me. I mean... fall under my spell. Lockhart soon opened his soul to me, and that was exactly what I needed. By feeding on the deepest fears and secrets in his heart, I gradually grew stronger until I surpassed him. Then I was able to reveal my own secrets to him."
"So... your souls merged?!" Harry asked, frowning in confusion.
Riddle: "Stop indulging in those inappropriate fantasies, Harry Potter."
"Sorry." (Obediently.)
"Can't you guess? Opening the Chamber of Secrets, attacking students at the school, and scrawling those terrifying messages on the walls. Releasing Slytherin's Basilisk to attack four Mudbloods and that Squib's scrawny cat. Lockhart did all of it."
"Impossible!" Ron immediately objected. "He didn't have the guts. He's even afraid of House-elves."
"Oh, he certainly didn't have the guts," Riddle said calmly. "Of course, at first he didn't know what he was doing—or, rather, I had him under my spell. But he still began to notice something was wrong.
"Dear Tom, I think I'm starting to lose my memory. My robes are covered in chicken feathers, and I don't know how they got there. I can't remember what I did on Halloween, but a cat was attacked. There's paint all over my chest. There's been another attack today, and I can't remember where I was at the time. What should I do? I think I'm going mad, Tom."
Riddle seemed to enjoy the fear others felt in his presence. The three boys watched his somewhat manic expression and swallowed nervously.
"Some time later, the idiot started to fear the diary's power. At first, power was what he wanted most, but now he was afraid of it. He tried to throw the diary away, and that was when you saw him. Fortunately, it was you. You're the one I most wanted to meet."
"You even made up a lie for me to see?"
"You're smarter than I thought, Harry. But it wasn't exactly a lie. After all, that's what I really did back then."
"But you framed him, right?"
"Hahahaha!" Riddle suddenly burst out laughing. "That's right. On one side, there was me: humble in birth, yet exceptionally clever; orphaned, yet both brave and wise. I was a Prefect, a model student, and top of my year. And on the other side was Hagrid: clumsy and troublesome, getting into trouble every other week, raising a Werewolf cub under his bed, and sneaking into the Forbidden Forest to wrestle Trolls.
"Still, I never expected the plan to go so smoothly. Hardly anyone questioned whether Hagrid could really be Slytherin's Heir. After all, even I needed five whole years to find the Chamber of Secrets. Poor Hagrid. Dumbledore was the only one at Hogwarts who believed him back then."
"And us. And Dumbledore had already seen through your lies."
"Exactly," Riddle said through gritted teeth. "Ever since then, he's watched me closely. I couldn't continue Salazar Slytherin's noble work, so I left this diary behind, preserving the sixteen-year-old me inside it."
"You're not going to get what you want. We're here, Dumbledore's here, and the professors' Mandrakes will be ready in a couple of days. This time, no one will die because of you."
"No, no, Harry." Riddle didn't fly into a rage as Harry expected. "There's no point in attacking more Mudbloods. You're my goal.
"Back then, Lockhart was afraid I'd tell you what he'd done. Even I didn't expect him to fear losing his reputation more than he feared losing power. So when he took you all out, he went into your dormitory and retrieved the diary.
"But that suited me perfectly. I controlled him and brought him here. He poured most of his life into the diary. At last, I could come out on my own and meet you face-to-face. There are many things I want to ask you, Harry."
"What?"
"How did you, a baby, defeat the greatest wizard in the world?"
"Huh? I've never fought Dumbledore."
"I didn't say Dumbledore."
"Didn't you say the greatest wizard in the world?"
"I meant Voldemort!"
"He doesn't deserve the title!"
"You!"
"What are you getting worked up about? I didn't insult you." Harry played dumb, though he knew exactly what he was doing.
Furious, Riddle used Harry's wand to write his name in the air: Tom Marvolo Riddle. Then he rearranged the letters to spell I am Lord Voldemort.
"Oh, you're Voldemort!"
"Now you know, don't you?"
"Then you can start getting worked up."
"I!" Riddle—or rather, Voldemort—was so infuriated by Harry's retort that he didn't know what to say. "You just said the greatest wizard was Dumbledore, didn't you? Fine. I, Voldemort, am about to be resurrected. As one of his followers, what can he do for you?"
Harry knew he could stall with words only for so long. They would have to fight eventually, but his wand was still in Riddle's hand. Behind him, Ron and Draco had quietly put their hands on their wands, too.
A crimson bird suddenly swooped down from above. It was Fawkes. Just as Dumbledore had said, he looked much better now than he had right after being reborn.
Fawkes dropped something in front of Harry. Harry thought it was a secret weapon wrapped in old cloth. Voldemort, Ron, and Draco were curious, too.
When Harry unwrapped it, he found the Sorting Hat, the old friend he'd had such a pleasant conversation with a few nights ago. He had to admit, meeting an old friend in a moment of crisis was heartening. But couldn't he have sent an old friend who could actually fight? Did Dumbledore expect him to smother Voldemort with the Sorting Hat?
"A battered old hat." Voldemort laughed again. "So this is what Dumbledore sent to support his follower. Well, enough of that distraction. Harry, this should be the third time we've faced each other.
"Do you think you'll escape death again this time? Let's see what you can do, Heir of Slytherin and supporter of Dumbledore." Voldemort turned toward the statue and summoned the Basilisk.
The sound of a snake slithering could already be heard from the statue's open mouth. The three boys quickly shut their eyes. Being petrified in front of a nearly resurrected Voldemort was no different from being dead. There was no time to come up with a plan for what to do next. Fawkes charged forward.
Sounds of fighting kept coming from right in front of them. Unable to resist his curiosity, Draco cautiously opened one eye.
"Look!"
Fawkes circled above the Basilisk's head, constantly looking for chances to strike. In just that short time, he'd pecked out the Basilisk's eyes.
But Fawkes didn't intend to let the Basilisk go at that. He kept attacking its weak spots. Black blood spurted from the Basilisk's body.
"Help!"
Before you continue