Harry felt a terrifying face surface in his mind—tall and gaunt, the snake-like features pale and drawn, scarlet eyes narrowed to slits as they fixed on him without blinking.
He tried desperately to force the face out of his thoughts, but he couldn't. It clung to him like a twin, pressed so tightly against him it was impossible to separate the two.
His scar felt as if it were about to burst open. He thought he might die. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced—beyond imagination, searing, inescapable.
The twisted face seemed to transform into a red-eyed monster that coiled around his entire body. It wrapped him so tightly that he could no longer tell where his own body ended and the monster's began. They were fused together, bound by agony, with no way out.
Then the monster spoke—using Harry's mouth.
In unbearable pain, Harry felt his lips moving against his will, an eerie voice spilling out:
"Jon Hart… so it was you."
...
"That's right. It's me, Tom." Jon dropped casually onto the gravestone of Rodolphus Lestrange's father, sounding perfectly at ease. "Come to think of it, this is our first meeting—if you can even call it that."
Harry could see nothing. He was barely conscious, rage pouring out of him.
"How dare you… call me by that name… how dare you!"
"You inherited that name from your father, Tom. It's yours for life, whether you like it or not." Jon shrugged. "Now, can we skip this tedious topic and talk about something useful?"
"As you wish," Tom Riddle growled. "What do you want to say?"
Jon reached into his pocket and took out a golden cup, studying the badger emblem of Hufflepuff engraved upon it.
"I'm speaking to you from the Lestrange estate, three hundred miles from Hogwarts Castle. Such craftsmanship… and you defiled it with Dark magic. A tragic waste."
"So… it really was you." Tom Riddle's voice gradually cooled from fury to something eerily calm.
"Naturally. Who else could it have been?" Jon replied lightly. "I have to admit, smashing a Horcrux with a sword is extremely satisfying. Though burning one with Fiendfyre isn't bad either."
"My other Horcruxes," Voldemort asked in a low voice, "were you involved in their destruction as well?"
"A year ago, while you were dueling Dumbledore at the Ministry, I used Fiendfyre to destroy two of them—the ridiculous diary and Ravenclaw's diadem," Jon said thoughtfully.
"As for the rest… I sent the ones who killed that great snake. Pity they were wiped out in the end, though at least they completed the job. The Slytherin locket? Poor Regulus Black stole it more than a decade ago. You never knew. And that ring your grandfather left behind—the Peverell ring. There's an interesting little stone inside it. A shame you never realized."
"You painstakingly created six Horcruxes and hid them where you believed no one could reach them. Now not one remains. How does that feel, Tom?"
"I will make you wish you were dead," Tom Riddle said coldly, murder thick in his voice. "I swear it."
"I'm afraid you won't get the chance," Jon replied, unconcerned. "I know you've been trying to track me down, Tom. Asking Professor Horace Slughorn. Asking Lady Diana Greengrass. So I might as well tell you plainly."
"Two years ago, in your father's graveyard, the person you killed wasn't me. I had Barty Crouch Jr.—your most loyal follower—drink Polyjuice Potion mixed with my hair and take my place. How tragic. Your most devoted Death Eater, murdered by his own master."
For a fleeting instant, Harry was overwhelmed by a surge of violent fury—but it passed just as quickly, settling back into cold control.
Tom Riddle's voice returned.
"So the one disguised as Barty…"
"Professor Alastor Moody. Amusing, isn't it? You had poor little Crouch impersonate Professor Moody. I had Professor Moody impersonate little Crouch. And you were kept completely in the dark until the battle at the Ministry. At the time, I had already returned to Hogwarts under the identity of Christopher Patrick."
"I truly hoped Dumbledore would finish you off in that battle. Unfortunately, reality was less cooperative. You escaped and gathered a fresh batch of Death Eaters." Jon smiled faintly. "So we had to take a different approach."
Voldemort ignored the mockery, his voice icy.
"How did you know? My plans. The locations of my Horcruxes. Was it Wormtail?"
"Of course not. Though it seems you've already learned that Wormtail betrayed you." Jon gave Harry a thumbs-up. "Information travels quickly among Death Eaters, doesn't it? But Wormtail alone wouldn't have been enough. Since we've come this far, I'll tell you the truth."
Jon's tone suddenly deepened.
"I am a Predictmagus—a born Seer. I can foresee what is to come. I can glimpse the truth of time itself. Your little tricks were never going to fool me."
"Predictmagus…" Tom repeated, as though committing the word to memory.
"Why are you telling me all this?" he demanded suddenly.
"To stall for time, of course," Jon said with a smile.
"Stall for time?" Tom sneered. "Stall for what? For me to leave Hogwarts? To reach the Lestrange graveyard? To come and kill you?"
"My dear Tom," Jon said lightly, blinking at him, "do you really still believe you can leave Hogwarts?"
His expression remained relaxed, almost amused.
"Even now… do you still not understand your situation?"
At those words, Potter's body convulsed violently, trembling from head to toe.