Facing Harry, Tom Riddle spoke eloquently, as though discussing the greatest masterpiece of his life.
"I abandoned Ginny, erased her memories, and moved on to her brother."
"And then I discovered that little Ron was even easier to manipulate. He had even more frustrations than she did, so he constantly poured his heart into the diary, telling me every grievance he wished to complain about."
"A poor family… five outstanding older brothers… never getting anything new…"
"Bill's old robes… Charlie's old wand… Percy's discarded rat…"
"And that insufferable Malfoy… the enviable Lewis Green… that nosy Granger girl…"
"And his very, very best friend—Harry Potter, the great hero…"
Riddle exposed Ron's innermost thoughts without the slightest restraint.
If Ron woke up right now, he would probably want to dig a hole and bury himself alive.
But Tom's mockery was far from over, as if he had an endless backlog of complaints he had been dying to vent.
"This idiot… how does someone have this many insecurities? This much inferiority?"
"He wanted attention. He wanted good grades. He wanted to be admired like you…"
"But no matter how much magic I taught him, he couldn't learn it properly. He couldn't even finish one book in a month! Every single day he obsessed over those pathetic little galleons of his…"
"And yet I still patiently played the role of the understanding older brother, listening to a twelve-year-old whine about his childish little troubles while helping him with homework."
"When I was twelve, I had already gathered followers, secretly studied books from the Restricted Section, and begun contemplating how to conquer death."
Riddle let out a shrill, icy laugh that sounded nothing like the voice of a sixteen-year-old boy.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck all stood on end.
"I'm not bragging, Harry, but I've always been exceptionally talented at charming people. So Ron opened his entire soul to me. And his life force and soul just happened to be exactly what I needed…"
"That is what I took from him."
"Of course," Riddle added casually, "a good person like me never takes without giving something in return. So I helped Ron accomplish many things as well."
"What did you make Ron do?" Harry asked hoarsely, his throat dry as fire.
"You still haven't figured it out, Harry Potter?" Riddle said softly.
"Other than that stupid cat, every single victim was attacked according to Ron's wishes."
"That's impossible!" Harry shouted. "Ron would never do something like that!"
"Oh, it's entirely possible." Riddle's smile widened smugly.
"Ron hated that Mudblood Colin Creevey. Always waving that camera around you, disturbing your life. So I attacked Colin."
"What about Justin? Ron had nothing against him!"
"Justin Finch-Fletchley, that ungrateful fool. You magnanimously used Slytherin's gift to save him, yet he repaid you with suspicion and fear. How could I possibly let that go?"
"And Malfoy? Surely I don't need to explain that one. Who among your peers is more of a thorn in your side? Not to mention he insulted you behind your back."
"For your sake, I even personally eliminated the descendant of one of my own followers. Remarkably selfless of me, don't you think?"
At that, Harry immediately remembered the humiliation of drinking Polyjuice Potion and infiltrating Slytherin—only to sit there agreeing with Malfoy while the blond boy insulted Harry and Ron to their faces.
"No… no, there's still Marietta! She had nothing to do with Ron or me!"
"Yes, yes." Riddle nodded in satisfaction. "But that young lady was simply Lockhart's scapegoat. Ron mentioned more than once how much you hated that fraud."
Then Riddle's face twisted into a malicious grin.
"You see? Every one of those attacks was carried out according to Ron's wishes."
"That was my reward to him."
"And the reason he did all of it… was for you, Harry."
"Even I was moved by the depth of his devotion to you."
"Ron would never attack them!" Harry roared angrily.
"Of course he wouldn't," Riddle agreed calmly. "That coward never had the nerve to act himself. He only dared to vent inside a diary."
"And I never needed him to know."
"He thought he was simply ranting on paper, while I transformed those petty complaints into the attacks I desired."
So this was how he granted wishes?
It sounded more like some cursed Grail than anything else.
"But you never killed anyone," Harry said suddenly, sounding almost triumphant. "Last time you opened the Chamber, you at least killed Myrtle. This time you haven't managed to kill anyone—not even a cat. Once the mandrakes mature, everyone who was Petrified will recover."
But Riddle showed no anger whatsoever.
"I already told you before," he said softly. "Whether they live or die doesn't matter."
"What matters… is you."
"I said from the very beginning that I brought you here because I need you."
"I need your help to complete the final step."
"To free myself from the prison of this diary."
"I won't help you do anything," Harry replied fearlessly, staring directly at him.
"Oh? How unfortunate," Riddle sighed.
"But I'm not talking about myself."
"I mean little Ron."
"Think carefully, Harry. Ron trusted you more than anyone. He was willing to shoulder four attacks for your sake."
"And in the end… because of Harry Potter's refusal to cooperate…"
Riddle left the sentence unfinished.
But Harry understood perfectly what he meant.
"You're despicable!" Harry shouted furiously, fists clenched tight.
"Despicable?" Riddle looked genuinely astonished, as though he had heard the funniest joke in the world.
"You're calling your enemy despicable?"
"Isn't being ruthless toward your enemies perfectly natural?"
"What exactly has Dumbledore been teaching you? Is he trying to raise you into some kind of saint?"
Harry took a harsh breath.
"I'll help you."
"But you have to release Ron first."
"Otherwise I'd rather die with you."
Hearing that, Riddle regarded Harry with unmistakable admiration.
"So Ron truly is your best friend, isn't he?"
"You may have noticed my current condition differs from that of ordinary people. I'm merely a memory—a fragment of a soul—forced to remain attached to this diary."
"To truly resurrect myself, I require a sacrifice."
"A living soul to release me from the diary."
"So…"
"Are you willing to take Ron Weasley's place and become that sacrifice?"
There was no threat in Riddle's tone.
Only a strangely meaningful gaze.
"You should think very carefully, Harry."
"This is the most important decision of your life."
"Once you choose, there is no turning back."
"So answer honestly."
"Are you willing to give everything for Ron Weasley?"
At that moment, countless memories flashed through Harry's mind.
Meeting Ron on the Hogwarts Express.
Their adventures in first year.
Ron arriving in the flying car to rescue him from Privet Drive.
Traveling together to Hogwarts.
Studying together.
Playing together.
Eating together.
Living together.
Ron truly was his best friend.
"I…"
"…am."
Harry forced the words out through his throat, each one feeling unbearably heavy.
In that instant, he felt a strange connection form between himself and Ron.
As though the two of them had become closer than ever before.
But before Harry could fully lose himself in that strange warmth, Tom Riddle's face suddenly split into a triumphant smile.
And then—
Music echoed through the Chamber.
Riddle spun around abruptly, staring into the darkness.
The music grew louder.
It was ethereal and mysterious, both unreal and exhilarating.
Harry felt every hair on his scalp stand upright.
His heart swelled to twice its normal size.
The music continued rising until it seemed to resonate inside his chest itself.
Then suddenly—
Flames burst forth from atop the nearest pillar.
A crimson bird descended from the darkness.
It was as large as a crane, singing its strange song beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Its tail glittered gold like a peacock's, and its golden talons clutched a ragged old bundle.
A second later, the bird swooped straight toward Harry.
It dropped the ragged object at Harry's feet, then settled heavily upon his shoulder, warm feathers brushing against his cheek as it stared resolutely at Riddle.
"A phoenix…" Riddle snarled back at it.
"And that thing…" His gaze shifted toward the ragged object Fawkes had dropped.
"…is the school's ridiculous old Sorting Hat."
Riddle burst into laughter.
"So this is what Dumbledore sends to protect you?"
"A singing bird and a torn-up hat?"
"Harry Potter, do you feel brave now? Do you feel safe?"
Harry grabbed the hat and jammed it onto his head.
"Help me… help me…" he begged desperately inside his mind.
But the Sorting Hat gave no response.
Instead, it tightened around his head, as though an invisible hand were wringing it hard.
CLANG!
Something long, heavy, and solid suddenly smacked Harry on the top of the skull, nearly knocking him unconscious.
He grabbed the hat and felt something hard protruding from within.
A shining silver sword emerged from the hat, its hilt embedded with dazzling ruby gemstones the size of eggs.
At that moment, Fawkes spread his wings and took flight again.
Circling above the chamber, he dropped something directly onto Harry's knees—
The diary.
Harry did not think.
He did not hesitate.
Grabbing the Sword of Gryffindor, he pointed it straight at the diary.
"Release Ron!" he shouted.
"I know your real body is hidden inside this diary. If I destroy it, you'll die too, won't you?"
"So unless you want to disappear forever—let Ron go!"
Clap. Clap.
Applause echoed throughout the Chamber.
"Excellent, Harry," Riddle praised. "You truly are an exceptional student. You learned my methods so quickly."
"The methods you call 'despicable.'"
"Perhaps that's why you can speak Parseltongue."
"Look at us, Harry."
"You and I are actually very alike, aren't we?"
"I must say, you truly belong in Slytherin."
Riddle deliberately tried steering the conversation elsewhere, but Harry refused to forget what mattered.
"Stop talking nonsense, Riddle!"
"Release Ron, or you know exactly what happens next!"
Harry stared into his eyes, trying to detect even the slightest hint of fear.
But all he saw was indifference.
"Unfortunately," the translucent wizard sneered coldly, "not every tactic can be imitated."
"And not everyone can be threatened."
"So go ahead, Harry."
"Destroy the diary."
"Drive your sword through it."
Riddle's response left Harry stunned.
What the hell?
Why did it suddenly feel like he was the villain here?
"The diary is in my hands!" Harry shouted louder, panicking.
The only response he received was even louder laughter.
"Then stab it."
"Go on."
"I'll die."
"Surely you wouldn't lose your nerve now?"
"Or perhaps…" Riddle smiled viciously.
"…you're unwilling to murder a stranger's soul."
"Even one who harmed your best friend and attacked your classmates."
Harry slowly raised his gaze to meet Riddle's smiling face.
"You think I'll hesitate?"
"No."
"You're the one who hurt Ron."
"You murderer!"
Harry's voice overflowed with hatred as he raised the Sword of Gryffindor high overhead—
And drove it down.
A horrible, endless, ear-piercing scream exploded through the Chamber.
Ink burst violently from the diary, splattering across Harry's hands and pouring onto the floor.
Riddle's body twisted and distorted, slowly fading away.
But before he disappeared completely, Harry noticed something terrifying—
Riddle was smiling.
A smile filled with delight.
Clatter.
Harry's wand slipped from his hand.
Silence returned to the Chamber, broken only by the slow drip-drip-drip of ink leaking from the ruined diary.
Harry tried to bend down and retrieve his wand.
But after taking only a single step, he realized something was terribly wrong.
His body had become unimaginably weak.
That one step alone had exhausted nearly all his strength.
At the same time, his mind began to fade.
Darkness swallowed his vision.
Then—
A familiar voice whispered beside his ear.
"Thank you, Harry Potter."
"Thank you for completely freeing me from the diary."
Ahead of him—
Tom Riddle's figure slowly materialized once more.
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