Forsaken Bloodlines {HP x GOT}

Chapter 5.8: Chamber

Lyanna's breath caught as she realized where she was. The dim, damp stone walls, the ominous silence... there was no mistaking it. She had somehow ended up in the Chamber of Secrets.

How did I even get here? she wondered, her brows furrowing. She glanced behind her, half-expecting to see a tunnel or a sign of the way she came, but there was nothing except the hollow echo of her own footsteps. The sheer size of the chamber overwhelmed her as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Her gaze drifted left, where the skeletal remains of the mighty Basilisk lay in a macabre display. The once-deadly serpent had long since decomposed, leaving behind only its towering bones. At least it doesn't stink anymore, she thought grimly, a faint shiver running down her spine.

Deciding to make the most of her unexpected detour, she wandered further into the chamber. Her feet carried her deeper until she reached a small, hidden alcove tucked behind an unassuming archway. Pushing through, she found herself in what appeared to be an ancient office.

The space was adorned with emerald-green tapestries and serpent motifs carved into the walls and furniture. A desk, ornately carved and layered with dust, sat at the center of the room. Shelves lined with old, decaying tomes surrounded her.

"Of course, he'd have an office here," Lyanna mused. Salazar Slytherin himself would have needed a place to think and plan his grand schemes, after all.

But her curiosity was abruptly interrupted by a voice behind her.

"Well, this is a surprise."

Lyanna spun around, her hand immediately going to her wand. Standing before her was a boy—no, a young man—with a sharp, handsome face, dark hair, and piercing eyes. He wasn't quite corporeal, but he looked almost real. Too real.

"Tom Riddle," she breathed, her grip tightening on her wand.

"Relax," he said smoothly, holding his hands up in a mock gesture of peace. "There's no need for wands. I'm not really here."

Lyanna didn't lower her guard. "What do you mean you're not here? And how are you still here at all? We destroyed your diary."

Tom chuckled softly, his tone light but unnerving. "Ah, yes, my diary. That was... unfortunate. But you see, a piece of me—of my soul—was heavily anchored to this office. I spent countless hours here, a sanctuary where I could truly be myself. It's similar to how Muggle ghosts are bound to places or objects."

Lyanna's eyes narrowed. "So... you're just a fragment? And not the homicidal fragment that tried to murder Ginny Weasley?"

He inclined his head slightly, as if to acknowledge her skepticism. "You could say that. I'm... less malicious. Call it what remains of my younger self, before everything else."

Lyanna kept her wand at the ready but didn't cast any spells. "Alright. Let's say I believe you for now. What do you want?"

He tilted his head, studying her with a curious expression. "I could ask you the same thing. Why are you here? Most would have fled the moment they recognized this place."

She hesitated, glancing around the room before answering. "I don't know. I was... walking, lost in thought, and somehow ended up here. I probably entered through another passageway. Not the girls' bathroom—I would've remembered sliding through that filthy tunnel."

Tom's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Interesting. The Chamber rarely allows intruders unless it deems them worthy. I suppose you might have a certain... kinship with this place."

She ignored his observation, instead fixing him with a wary gaze. "Why haven't you left this place? Isn't haunting it a bit... dull?"

"I don't have a choice," he replied, his tone clipped. "This fragment of me is bound here. I'm simply... existing."