121 Chapter 121: Queen’s Gambit

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I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.

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16 March 1993, Hogwarts

Harry watched his opponent's expressions turn from incredulous at the sight of the boy who lived succeeding at killing a beast that literally wiped out entire teams of professional beast hunters, to a slight look of awe at the power that fate had to make that happen.

Of course, that awe was very short-lived, and quickly transformed into rage, which was smothered into cold calculation. It was fascinating seeing all range of emotion on Riddle's face.

The boy who lived pointed his sword at them, something that didn't make sense since he was too far away to be an actual threat, "Harry, what's going on?"

"This is Tom Riddle, the heir of Slytherin," Harry responded.

"Any why are you playing chess with him?"

"You have your battle and I have mine. Good work with the Basilisk, by the way. I'm impressed."

The young Gryffindor grinned, "The goggles and the bombs worked. I wouldn't do it again, but I guess that's the monster of Slytherin dead. But why aren't you fighting this Riddle person?"

"It's a little complicated. Your friend here didn't help things," Harry answered while pointing his head at Hermione Granger's body.

Then, Neville literally threw his sword away the moment he saw his best friend's corpse. He ran towards her, yelling, "HERMIONE!"

It took a few seconds for the Longbottom scion to realize that she wasn't breathing, "She's dead, isn't she? What did you do?"

Riddle was the one who answered, "I didn't do anything. This was Hermione's choice. You see, while I was the voice, the heir of Slytherin, I'm barely more than a memory. You see, Hermione Granger opened the Chamber of Secrets, she's the one who petrified other students. I was just the tool she chose to do so."

The boy froze for a second, "Hermione did what?"

"Yes. I'm just a memory, an idea more like, one that Hermione would have ignored if she didn't think it was good. You know your best friend do you think that anyone could have made her do anything? Stubborn as an ox, this one."

Neville snorted, "She's stubborn. What happened to her?"

"It's a side effect of her plan but believe me that she's still alive. This is temporary. You see, Neville, your friend is a hero, one that saved the world. You know she's a good person. Petrifying a few people isn't a big deal, it's temporary, especially compared to what her goal is."

Harry just stood there, transfixed as he saw Neville listen to Riddle's lies. It was a curious thing, the way the older boy could spread his web of lies. The passion in his voice, the sincerity in every word that he spoke made him sound so reasonable, like a coiling snake slowly constricting himself around his victim, suffocating them without them even realizing.

"And what was her goal," Neville asked.

"Why, peace of course. We devised a ritual, together, to create peace, to save the world from future Death Eaters, not by sending them to prison, but by having them sympathize with muggleborns. They will experience an illusion so powerful that they will think that they have lived another life as a muggleborn. They will experience the bigotry that they spout and will finally understand the consequences of what they're doing. Muggleborns will also experience the opposite, a life in wizarding families, experiencing the traditions and culture of the magical world. Imagine an entire generation that thrives in understanding and peace. They will teach the same to their children, and their children's children, until the entirety of Magical Britain will be at peace, a true utopia of magic. Isn't that a worthy goal, Neville?"

The boy's eyes were glazed, "Yeah, that sounds amazing. Why did she petrify all those people, though?"

"Time. The ritual needs time, and to offset that, we stole it from the victims, just a few months from a few students. That's what the petrifications really are, people frozen in time, harnessed for the ritual, for the greatest illusion that ever existed, that will ever exist. If you noticed, we picked the victims at random. Squibs, muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods, we did not discriminate. That's what the ritual needs to work properly. We used the whole thing about the heir of Slytherin to act as a story, to make people not think too much about the petrification, so that no one would ever understand what we tried to achieve so that no one would try to stop us. No one figured it out, but him," the older Slytherin pointed at Harry, "He's trying to stop us. Our glorious purpose, our chances of having a utopia."

"What about Hermione, why is she dead?"

"Oh, come on, Neville. You know deep in your heart that this isn't true. She isn't dead. Do you honestly just believe what's just in front of you? I expected more…"

The boy started to look defensive, "Why should I believe you?"

"I told you. Hermione is alive and if you allow me, I will take you to her. Wouldn't you like that, Neville? To hear her voice, to hold her hand? You just have to wait just for a little while, and you'll see the miracle that she has created. I know you have regrets, Neville, and pain. I know that you wish that things in your life would be different, just like Hermione did. And she found a way to make it all go away. She created a way that would temporarily reset everything and live in the world she deserved, and she wanted to share it with the world. Imagine a world where you still have your parents, where your father tells you he's proud of you, where your mother tucks you in at night with a kiss on your forehead. Imagine a world without Voldemort, without Dumbledore, without wars over silly things like gold and blood, a world without the pain you are carrying, without your mistakes, without your regrets, a world where you don't have to be the boy who lived, where you don't have to live to meet the expectations of others, to be the hero they want you to be. Please, Neville, let me show you the world that your closest friend wants to create."

Neville looked entranced, "How?"

"Just trust her. You do trust her, don't you? Do you believe in Hermione Granger, Neville?

"Of course, I trust her, it's you that I don't. You framed me for the petrifications. I can tell you did…"

Riddle shook his head, "We didn't, but you're a parselmouth, so they tried to find clues that just weren't there, just like you tried to justify the injustice by seeing clues that just weren't there. Even then, we don't have to fight. Is your suffering for a few months not worth the paradise that we aim to create? Let's just make peace with each other, as we always meant to do. Let go of the anger towards the mythical thing that is the heir of Slytherin and embrace your friend's vision. Understand that we only wished to help, to save the world. The only snag in our way is Potter."

"I don't understand…"

"For the ritual to work a soul has to govern the illusion to make sure that everything works fine. I am not alive, so I don't have a soul, but Hermione sacrificed experiencing her illusion just so that the world would know peace. She's vulnerable now and interrupting the ritual will surely kill her. Potter doesn't just want to stop me; he wants revenge for what happened to Greengrass. He wants revenge on Hermione. He could stop the ritual, stop our world from being born. I'm just a memory, I don't have any magic, I don't have any power. I'm just a voice in the wind. But you do. Are you going to let him kill your friend? He did make you fight Hermione's protector, didn't he? He made you kill her strongest defenders because he couldn't. You could stop him, save your friend from his clutches."

"So, I have to fight Potter to save Hermione?" the Longbottom scion asked.

"Not just to save Hermione, but to save the world. He's the enemy. He doesn't get that to save the world, there needs to be sacrifices. He wants to avenge his friend, and that's noble. Why do you think he's not interrupting us now? He knows that I'm not lying to you."

Slowly, Neville pointed his wand at Harry, trembling slightly, "I'm sorry Harry."

The Potter scion, though, looked unconcerned. He just took off his fedora and shook his head, "Well, this has gone far enough…"

He snapped his finger and the boy just fell down unconscious. At Riddle's incredulous look, he snorted, "Do you not think I have a contingency plan in place if he decided to betray me? A small rune on the back of his neck, the moment we entered the undercroft, was enough to guarantee that he wouldn't do anything stupid."

"You're a ruthless man," Riddle commented.

"Nah, I'm just ahead of the curve. What is curious is your ability to convince him of anything. No wonder Lord Voldemort had such a large following, if he had a fragment of your skill, he could convince anyone of anything. A good thing for a con artist like him, like you, to have. You wanted to test the protections that fate offered Longbottom on me, turn a liability into an asset. But now, the question is, what are you hoping to accomplish now that your beast and your backup are gone? Are you willing to risk it all in a duel that you might not win?"

The older boy shook his head, "The chances you would defeat me in a duel are minimal. You're impressive, yes, and had you been two years, maybe even one year older, you could have posed a very significant challenge. But you're too unrefined. But then again, I don't have to fight you. King to Rook two."

"So, dazzle me, Riddle. What's that final trick up your sleeve."

"It's not really a trick. You didn't seriously think that Salazar Slytherin would only settle for a single ordinary Basilisk as his beast. No, the master of snakes would only choose the King of Serpents as his champion. You see, when the founders discovered the repository of ancient magic, they didn't know that they stumbled on the tomb of one of the greatest sorcerers of Ancient Greece, Herpo. The man had found something slumbering in ruins that he studied for decades trying to replicate. The result of his experiments was the creation of Basilisk, which he deemed to be a pale imitation of the real thing. Salazar was able to bind this great beast to his bloodline using a mastery of the Dark arts that even I could barely understand. It is one of the seven Titans of the magical world, true remnants of the age of gods, the world serpent, Jörmungandr!"

With that proclamation, the chamber started to shift, the walls started moving as if responding to the ancient power invoked by the name. The air grew heavy with otherworldly energy, and an ominous hiss seemed to echo from the very stones themselves. Harry's eyes widened as he gazed upon the transformation taking place around him, a mixture of awe and trepidation filling his heart.

Riddle's voice, now carrying an unsettling blend of excitement and reverence, continued, "Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, the creature that encircles the world in Norse myth, its enormity beyond mortal comprehension. The true monster of Slytherin, a being of ancient magic and primordial power, and it is mine."

As the chamber continued to shift and rearrange itself, a colossal form began to emerge from the very depths of the floor, scales as dark as obsidian glinting with an eerie iridescence. Slowly, the massive serpentine body of Jörmungandr emerged, coiling and undulating in the confined space, its eyes gleaming with an intelligence that belied its monstrous appearance.

Harry wouldn't admit it, but the sight was as impressive as it was disturbing. He never expected anything like it. This was his challenge, his problem, the final problem, "He's the Chamber of Secrets itself, isn't he?"

"Yes. Do you think that I would have let you in this place if there was a single chance that you could defeat me? You're not fighting me. You're fighting a force of nature. So, now, in the face of overwhelming force, tell me, Potter, how do you plan on fighting that?"

The chamber continued its metamorphosis, the ancient magic intertwining with the present moment. The confrontation was no longer about a petty rivalry between students; it had transcended into a clash of legacies, a battle that stretched across time and dimensions. It was hard for Harry to understand what he was seeing with his eyes, but he didn't have to use his eyes to truly see, did he?

He closed his eyes for a second and found the answer. It was risky, but it was better than many alternatives. He nodded to himself and looked Riddle straight in the eye, "I have to say it's an interesting trap, but you made a mistake…"

The boy stiffened and asked, "What?"

"This is a good trap, putting me in an environment completely under your control from the beginning. But you made a mistake, a huge mistake even. It's sad that you don't see it."

"What mistake, Potter?" the older boy insisted.

"Didn't one ever tell you that there's one thing you don't put in a trap? If you're smart, if you value your continuing existence, if you have any plans on seeing a tomorrow, there's one thing you never ever put in a trap."

"And what would that be, Potter?"

Harry put his hand inside his Fedora discreetly and grabbed a familiar weapon. The Colt. He closed his eyes and used his Arcane Hearing to find the source of the room, the soul of the mythical world serpent, "Me!"

He gave Riddle a smug look, took out the Colt, pointed it towards the source of the World Serpent, and fired.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.