Intertwined → Tom Riddle

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The flickering light of Tom's wand danced on the damp, cobbled walls of the chamber as he and Amara descended the dark staircase leading to Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint, echoing sounds of their footsteps seemed to amplify the tension that hung between them. Tom's earlier instructions had been clear—find the black snake and decipher the symbols—but the true gravity of their mission had yet to fully sink in for Amara.

Tom was methodical and precise. He had cleared their path with a series of well-placed Confringo curses, shattering lanterns and creating enough noise to obscure their presence. As he cast a final silencing charm, he gestured for Amara to move into a shadowed corner of the room. She complied, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Stay quiet," Tom instructed sharply, and Amara could only nod in response, her eyes fixed on him.

With a deliberate flick of his wand, Tom sent a Confringo curse towards a lantern hanging from the wall. The resulting explosion showered the room in a blaze of light and debris. A second Confringo followed, and the ground beneath them rumbled as the wall seemed to dissolve, revealing a darkened doorway beyond.

Tom's voice was calm and measured as he directed her. "Ladies first," he said, motioning towards the staircase that descended into the darkness.

Amara hesitated for a moment before summoning her courage. "Lumos," she whispered, her wand tip illuminating the darkened steps. The faint glow cast eerie shadows on the walls, and she could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle behind her. She turned, eyes narrowing. "Something funny, Riddle?"

Tom shook his head, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "It's just a shame you have to use words. What a waste."

Amara bristled slightly at his comment. "I suppose you've been doing nonverbal spells since you could think."

"Not quite," Tom admitted, "but it might as well be. Someone really ought to teach you."

"And they will," Amara replied curtly, "it's on the curriculum."

Tom chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Touché. I assume you hear nothing?"

Amara held her breath, listening intently for any sounds. "No," she replied after a moment, shaking her head.

Tom's eyes glinted with a mysterious light as he approached a set of entwined serpents etched into the wall. "Thought so. It's Parseltongue," he said, running his hand over the serpentine symbols. He closed his eyes and let out a low, faint hiss.

The sound was chilling—an otherworldly whisper that seemed to resonate deep within Amara's bones. She had heard of Parseltongue, the rare ability to speak with snakes, but hearing it in person was a completely different experience. The hiss from Tom's lips was unnervingly smooth, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

Without another word, the serpents parted, and the door creaked open to reveal yet another chamber, identical in design to the previous one. The space was filled with more cobbled chambers and ironclad gates. The repetition was almost maddening, but Tom's instructions were clear.

"Look for a black snake, wrapped around a small fountain," Tom said, already heading off to the right. "I'll check this side."

Amara turned in the opposite direction, her wand casting a sweeping light across the room. The repetitive design made it challenging to discern any distinctive features. She moved cautiously, her eyes scanning for the specific fountain Tom had mentioned.

"There should be two in here!" Tom called out loudly from his end. "I've found mine. Have you found yours?"

"I think so," Amara called back, her voice echoing slightly in the chamber. Her eyes had landed on a small, ornate fountain with a black snake coiled around its base. She approached it carefully, the symbols around the fountain aligning with Tom's description.