Following his Parseltongue command, Tom's spectral figure vanished once more.
Watching the ancient stone wall slide open, Draco took a deep, shuddering breath. It seemed he had finally hardened his resolve.
"Who exactly is that?" he asked Maurise, keeping his voice to an absolute whisper. "A ghost? Is he the Heir of Slytherin?"
"You can formulate your own theories for now. The answer will be revealed shortly."
Maurise stepped confidently through the grand opening.
The space beyond the stone doors was shockingly expansive. It was a massive, rectangular subterranean hall. It was so incredibly vast that even Maurise's intensified Lumos charm failed to illuminate the far walls.
Towering stone pillars, intricately carved with writhing serpents, lined both sides of the hall, supporting a ceiling lost in the oppressive darkness above. The air was thick and heavy with the stagnant scent of ancient dust and decay.
The two boys walked steadily down the center aisle, finally coming to a halt before a colossal stone statue resting at the far end of the chamber.
The statue was carved from a significantly darker, rougher stone than the surrounding pillars. It depicted an ancient, monkey-like wizard. He had a wispy, trailing beard, highly pronounced cheekbones, and deeply sunken eyes that seemed to glare down at the insignificant intruders below with cold indifference.
To Maurise, it just looked like a skinny, highly unpleasant old man.
Was this Salazar Slytherin himself? Maurise honestly had no idea. It wasn't like he had ever met the Founders in person.
"So, where is the Basilisk?" Maurise scanned the surrounding darkness before turning his attention back to the floating black diary.
Right on cue, Tom's spectral form flickered back into existence, hovering gracefully in the air. A cold, highly arrogant smile finally graced his handsome, pale face.
He carefully scrutinized Maurise, and then cast a brief, dismissive glance at the terrified Draco standing just behind him. For a moment, Tom said absolutely nothing.
"Don't space out on me, Tom. Answer my question," Maurise prompted impatiently.
"What a fascinating reaction." A flicker of genuine confusion passed through Tom's dark eyes. "Are you not terrified, Mark? Oh, my apologies. It should be Black, shouldn't it? You never actually bothered to tell me your real name."
Maurise offered a calm, unapologetic nod. Tom had undoubtedly overheard Malfoy shouting his name earlier.
Observing Maurise's completely unbothered demeanor, Tom drifted closer until he was hovering practically face-to-face with the boy. His dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through Maurise's soul.
"You seem remarkably unfazed by all of this, Mr. Black," Tom stated smoothly. "That is highly unusual. So, let me ask you a vastly more interesting question."
He paused for dramatic effect, the corners of his mouth curling upward. "Do you actually know who I am?"
Draco violently whipped his head toward Maurise, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs. He was also desperate to know the true identity of this terrifying "ghost."
Maurise met Tom's intense gaze and suddenly burst into a light chuckle. "Of course I know exactly who you are, Tom. You are a highly helpful, incredibly patient Slytherin senior."
"Is that so?" Tom's brow furrowed in mild annoyance.
"Absolutely," Maurise continued, his face a perfect picture of wide-eyed innocence. "I mean, how could I possibly know that you are the legendary Dark Lord who initiated a brutal wizarding war, turned the entire British magical community upside down, struck absolute terror into the hearts of millions, and was ultimately defeated by an infant and vanished for over a decade? Oh, what do they call you again? Right, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Phew. Let me catch my breath. Saying all of that at once is genuinely exhausting."
Maurise blinked innocently, intensely curious to see exactly how the Dark Lord would react to being blatantly mocked to his face.
Tom fell dead silent.
Draco also fell dead silent.
For a long, suffocating moment, the colossal stone hall was terrifyingly quiet.
Suddenly, Tom raised his spectral hand and slashed his fingers through the empty air. He left behind a trail of glowing, dark red magical energy that quickly formed a line of elegant, glowing text:
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.
"That was my original name," Tom stated coldly.
Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, Tom commanded the glowing letters to rapidly detach, scramble, and rearrange themselves in the air, forming a brand new sentence:
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
The terrifying anagram burned brightly in the stale air, permanently searing itself into Draco's wide, panicked pupils.
'Vol... Voldemort?'
The Dark Lord? The wizard whose name no one even dared to whisper? He was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets? How could he possibly be here right now, trapped in the form of a ghost?
A loud, ringing sound echoed in Draco's ears. He stumbled backward, his legs completely giving out. He clamped both hands desperately over his mouth to muffle a scream, turning pleadingly toward Maurise.
But what he saw made his blood run completely cold...
Maurise was currently stroking his chin, observing the glowing anagram with a highly critical, academic expression. He even offered an approving nod.
"Hmm. Very elegant handwriting. Your magical control is genuinely flawless," Maurise critiqued. "However, Tom, are you absolutely certain you should be wasting your precious magical reserves on dramatic parlor tricks right now?"
Draco firmly concluded that Black must have suffered a severe concussion during the drop down the pipe.
Tom, however, seemed highly satisfied with Draco's absolute terror.
He turned his attention back to Maurise, his tone slightly bewildered. "Are you truly not afraid of me?"
"Why on earth should I be afraid of you?" Maurise replied breezily. "Are you actually capable of killing me in your current state?"
Hearing the blatant disrespect, Tom did not fly into a rage. Instead, he let out a heavy, dramatic sigh.
"Do you know something, Black?" Tom began, his voice dripping with venom. "I absolutely despised my given name. Tom Marvolo Riddle... it was painfully ordinary, utterly common. It bore the filthy, pathetic stain of my Muggle father."
"And so, I discarded it. I forged a new title, a name that belonged entirely to me and me alone."
"I knew, even then, that I was destined to become the single greatest wizard to ever walk the earth. I knew the day would come when the entire world would be too terrified to even breathe my new name."
Maurise merely shrugged. "Oh, is that so?"
He cast a sideways glance at the trembling, hyperventilating blonde boy beside him. "Well, you certainly succeeded on that front. Just look at this poor child."
Maurise nudged Draco firmly with his elbow, but Draco didn't react at all. He just continued staring blankly ahead, completely paralyzed by fear.
"Tch. You've completely broken him."
Tom's translucent form drifted backward a half-step, adopting an air of grand superiority.
"Black," Tom began slowly, his voice smooth and hypnotic. "From the very first moment we began conversing, I have been closely analyzing you. Every reaction, every question you asked told me that you are vastly different from the mediocre rabble that infests this school. You are exceptionally calm, highly intelligent, remarkably bold, and possess an ambition that far exceeds that of ordinary men."
He paused, spreading his spectral arms wide to encompass the grand, terrifying hall. "Look around you. I forged an absolute legend. I made the entire wizarding world tremble at the mere mention of my name."
"Why shouldn't we collaborate? You possess incredible potential and a brilliant mind. All you lack is proper guidance."
"Perhaps one day, Black, your name will also echo through history. You will command absolute reverence, and your legacy will be immortalized forever."
Maurise listened quietly, his face entirely expressionless.
Tom's speech was undeniably persuasive. Of course, it wasn't because the content was particularly profound; it was laced with a subtle, highly insidious, mind-altering magic designed to charm and manipulate.
After ensuring the Dark Lord had completely finished his grand pitch, Maurise finally spoke, his tone incredibly slow and deliberate. "I do not require your assistance, Tom."
"One day, I guarantee that everyone will remember my name. And that day is not far off."
"As for you, Lord Voldemort... in my eyes, you are nothing more than an incredibly ordinary man."
"Ah, perhaps that is slightly inaccurate. You are undeniably one of the most powerful Dark Wizards in history. You can hardly be considered 'ordinary' in terms of raw magical output."
"Let me rephrase. Hmm... how should I put this? Ah, yes. It is a matter of ultimate pursuit. On a fundamental, philosophical level, our ultimate goals are entirely incompatible."
"You pursue power simply because you desperately crave the fear and reverence of others. You want people to tremble when they hear your name. Ha. That is such a pitiful, mundane desire."
"What I desire is power itself. Or rather, I desire absolute knowledge."
"I firmly believe that my existence will only have meaning once I have successfully absorbed and comprehended every single piece of knowledge that exists within this universe."
"But, truthfully, that isn't the primary reason I refuse to work with you. I simply despise your methodology. Yes, that sums it up perfectly."
Maurise smiled brightly at the stunned Dark Lord. "My apologies, I tend to ramble occasionally. I rarely get the chance to vocalize these thoughts. Anyway, we have wasted enough time on pleasantries, Tom. Show me the Basilisk, would you?"