Eternal Despair (Harry Potter/OC)

𝟙𝟟: Tom Riddle

They stood at the far end of an immense, dimly lit chamber, its vastness seemingly infinite in the murky light. Towering stone pillars, each entwined with intricately carved serpents, stretched upward to support a ceiling that disappeared into the shadows above, casting elongated, ominous shadows that danced through the eerie, greenish gloom enveloping the room.

Harry and Enzo withdrew their wands and cautiously advanced between the sinuous columns, their every footstep reverberating loudly off the shadowy walls, amplifying the oppressive silence.

As they moved forward, a colossal statue, as tall as the Chamber itself, slowly emerged from the darkness, standing imposingly against the back wall. Enzo had to crane his neck to fully take in the sight of the giant face above. The visage was ancient, with simian features and a long, thin beard that extended nearly to the hem of the wizard's voluminous stone robes. At the base, two enormous gray feet rested firmly on the smooth Chamber floor.

Between those immense feet lay two small, black-robed figures, facedown and motionless, one with a familiar resemblance.

"Aurora!" Enzo muttered urgently, sprinting towards the figures and dropping to his knees.

"Don't be dead—god, please don't be dead—" He tossed his wand aside and grasped Aurora's shoulders. Harry rushed over, assisting him in turning over the two girls. Both of their faces were as white as marble and just as cold, yet their eyes were closed, indicating they were not Petrified. But then maybe—

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

"They won't wake," said a soft voice, startlingly close.

Enzo and Harry jumped, spinning around on their knees.

A tall, black-haired boy leaned nonchalantly against the nearest pillar, observing them. His outline was strangely blurred, as if not entirely solid.

"Tom—Tom Riddle?" Harry gasped.

"Huh?" Enzo turned to Harry, bewildered.

Riddle nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"What do you mean, they won't wake?" Harry demanded desperately. "They're not—they're not?"

"They're still alive," said Riddle calmly. "But only just."

Harry stared at him in shock. Tom Riddle had attended Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, bathed in a weird, misty light, looking no older than sixteen.

"He can't be Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle died fifty years ago," Enzo whispered, his voice filled with doubt. "Are you a ghost?" he asked uncertainly.

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

He pointed towards the floor near the statue's enormous toes. There, lying open, was the little black diary they had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

A feeling of unease crept over Enzo as he regarded Tom Riddle.

"You've got to help us, Tom," Harry pleaded, lifting Ginny's head again. "We've got to get them out of here. There's a basilisk... I don't know where it is, but it could come along any moment. Please, help us."

Riddle didn't move. Harry, sweating, with Enzo's help, managed to hoist the two girls partially off the floor and bent to retrieve their wands.

But the wands were gone. "Did you see them?" Harry asked, looking around.

Their eyes fell on Riddle, who was now watching them with a slight smile, twirling their wands idly between his long fingers.

"Thanks," said Harry, stretching out his hand expectantly.