𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳 [ᕼᑭ ᙭ ᑭᒍO]

XIV || "Wait. You, Riddle. Are not a real person?"

✿⁠ ♡ ◍⁠ •⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠ ◍ ✧⁠ * 。♡

"Actually no. I am a muggleborn. Neither my mom is a witch nor my dad. But why do you care, Tom? You are a halfblood yourself. How is Merope, Tom?"

✿⁠ ♡ ◍⁠ •⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠ ◍ ✧⁠ * 。♡

LILITH COULDN'T HELP BUT BE SURPRISED.

Harry's wand wasn't needed anymore because the chamber itself was illuminated by a faint greenish glow. Every pillar, every wall had the engraving of snakes on them.

"Beautiful." Lilith whispered. Annabeth would be soo jealous if she knew Lilith visited such amazing place.

Lilith shook her thoughts, this wasn't the time to think about the architecture or Annabeth. She was here on a mission.

She drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the
Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. 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 and dropping to his knees. Lilith followed him, keeping an eye.

"Ginny — don’t be dead —please don’t be dead —" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny’s shoulders, and turned her over.

"She is alive." Lilith muttered as she bent down. "Her pulse are faint and her soul..." Lilith cut herself off. She didn't knew much about souls but she could say that Ginny's soul was slowly leaving her body.

Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t Petrified.

"Maybe she is cursed" Harry muttered desperately, shaking her.

Ginny’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won’t wake," said a soft voice.

Lilith nearly jumped. Her hands curled around the mist but she hid her hands behind her back.

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. Really handsome that he could be approved by Drew, Daughter of Aphrodite but he was strangely blurred around the edges.

"Tom — Tom Riddle?" Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face.

With the intensity, the boy was looking at Harry. Lilith felt like she shouln't be there.

"Wait. Tom Riddle?" Lilith whispered.

"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."

Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly.

"No, he is not." Lilith said. Her eyes glued to Tom's face as she tried to think what he was.

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

"What diary?" Lilith asked, confused.

Harry looked at her. "I found.. I found this diary. Whe- when i saw him.. in sorta vision."

Lilith was still confused but she nodded. "Wait. You, Riddle. Are not a real person?"