Draco felt like he had burst into an endless pipe. It was pitch black all around and slimy everywhere. The cold wind from the convection stung his face like a sharp blade slicing past his ears. Some parts were very steep, and the entire passage twisted and turned, with narrow branches formed by smaller pipes that clearly couldn't accommodate a person's width.
To be safe, Draco cast a Levitation Charm on himself for shock absorption to avoid any accidents.
However, it seemed he had overthought it; the latter part of the pipe suddenly levelled out. He emerged from the opening, stepping steadily onto the damp ground, and a dark stone tunnel large enough for a person to stand in stretched out before him.
"Lumos!" He waved his wand to provide light for himself.
Even though he slowed his pace, his footsteps still made a splashing sound on the damp floor. Aside from the footsteps, there was nothing else in the tunnel, which only heightened the eerie and desolate atmosphere—not to mention the occasional crunching sound of stepping on the skulls of various animals.
"Is this the skin that fellow shed?" Draco glanced at the massive snake skin not far away. It was a glaring, bright green, lying coiled on the tunnel floor, hollow inside. Clearly, the creature that had just shed this skin was at least twenty feet long—about six metres, a real monster.
Hunters in the forest always say that they'd rather face five hundred venomous snakes than a single python. If bitten by the former, there might be an antidote; the latter would simply strangle you to death. You would feel the oxygen in your body dwindling and your life draining away bit by bit. Watching yourself walk toward death is perhaps more terrifying than death itself.
And the Basilisk he had to face now had a massive body and venomous fangs, combining both threats, plus an instant-death cheat code that killed with a single stare.
Naturally, Draco hadn't come to throw his life away. His identity, at least, meant Riddle wouldn't use his ultimate move the moment he saw him. Moreover, Riddle might be feeling a bit lonely after being dormant for so long. Lockhart certainly couldn't hold a conversation with him; Riddle likely looked at him as if he were an idiot.
In the original work, Riddle had rambled and bragged to Harry for quite a while before moving in for the kill.
Draco continued past the massive snake skin. The tunnel turned again and again. Finally, as he cautiously rounded another bend, he found a solid wall standing ahead, carved with two intertwined snakes. Their eyes were set with large, glittering emeralds, making it clear that "green light flashing from the eyes" wasn't just a figure of speech.
"As expected, it's ineffective." Draco's body tensed. He had just tried to transfigure his button, but it had no effect. He then tore open a rooster howler letter, only to find it went "dud" like a deflated ball, a total Squib.
"He really is prepared," Draco thought, a chill running through him. However, this didn't affect his plan.
"Open," Draco said in the Parseltongue he had forced himself tomemorizee, addressing the two stone snakes.
The snakes on the wall began to slither slowly until they separated. The wall split into two halves along with them, revealing a passage.
Draco ducked inside.
He scanned his surroundings. It was a long, dimly lit room lined with many towering stone pillars, all carved with the same coiled serpents. These pillars supported a ceiling that dissolved into the darkness above, casting long, eerie shadows across the room, which was filled with a mysterious, greenish haze.
"It's really uncomfortable being stared at by these things." Draco shuddered. From any angle, Draco felt the stone snakes were staring intently at him, making him feel oppressed and quite uneasy.
When he reached the last pair of stone pillars, a statue as tall as the room itself suddenly appeared before him, pressed against the dark wall at the back.
It was an ancient, monkey-like face,
with a sparse, long beard that trailed almost to the hem of the stone-carved wizard's robes. Two large, greyish feet stood on the smooth floor of the room. Between those two feet lay a man dressed in emerald-green robes, with golden wavy hair.
"Sigh..." Draco sighed inwardly. Speculation was one thing, but seeing it with his own eyes was another. His feelings were quite complicated upon actually seeing Lockhart; he hadn't expected this straw bag to be so useless.
A figure suddenly slid out from behind a stone pillar. One look and Draco knew the main player had arrived. The figure had black hair and a tall build, but his body wasn't entirely solid; it was somewhat transparent, giving the impression of a ghost.
"Oh?" the boy spoke. "I originally thought the one coming here would be Harry Potter, but I didn't expect it to be you."
"Let me think," he said to himself. "Hmm, aside from Harry, the person Lockhart admired most was you, because you gave him a bottle of his favourite whisky. How ridiculous. Draco Malfoy, right?" Riddle looked toward Draco, his tone carrying a hint of mockery—likely directed at Lockhart. So far, he hadn't shown any malice, perhaps because Draco was a pure-blood.
"Lord Dark Lord!" Draco began his performance again. He clasped his hands to his chest, a fanatical look in his eyes, and called out reverently.
Riddle was startled to hear the name. His gaze suddenly became sharp, as if he might start a massacre at the slightest provocation.
Draco ignored him completely. As if discovering something, he rushed straight toward the diary beside Lockhart.
"Stay away from that book!" Riddle barked. A crimson light flashed in his eyes. Draco paid no heed; he quickly pulled out a bottle containing a bright red liquid and poured it onto the diary.
"You dare!" Riddle raised the wand in his hand. However, it looked very uncoordinated; Lockhart's wand was too focused on being ornate, covered in various patterns. Riddle could only make do with it, but he soon stopped.
"Oh, the scent of life." Riddle licked his lips as if intoxicated, like enjoying a fine vintage wine. He lowered the wand. "What is this?" he asked.
"Dragon's blood." Draco seemed to realize he had lost his composure just now and stammered out the words.
"Perfect!" Riddle said excitedly. It seemed Draco had gained his initial trust. "Much stronger than the vitality of this straw bag." As he spoke, he looked with disgust at Lockhart lying nearby.
"How do you know these secrets?" Riddle still looked at him scrutinizingly. "My father told me everything," Draco said, using as proud a tone as possible.
"Lucius?" Riddle murmured. It was clear he had already obtained almost all of Lockhart's memories; these details were easy to match up. "It seems your father is very trusted under my command," Riddle laughed.
"My father refused to believe the fact that you had died. He firmly believed that the Dark Lord could not die, that you are an omnipotent god, and that a mere body would not block your path." Draco continued to flatter the person in front of him. He saw Riddle's body gradually becoming solid, a world of difference from before; just moments ago, it seemed Riddle might blow away with the wind.
"So he chose to temporarily return to wizarding society to lay the foundation for your comeback. I think you already know from Lockhart's mind that our family is very wealthy and can certainly serve you with total devotion." Draco lowered his head. "So, please forgive his previous actions that appeared to be betrayal." It seemed Draco wouldn't raise his head unless Riddle forgave his father.
Riddle toyed with Lockhart's ornate wand and said pleasantly, "You and your father have already shown your loyalty through your actions. I am satisfied, so why would I blame him?" He added, "If he weren't someone to be trusted, I don't think I would have told your father this important secret of mine."
"Raise your head," Riddle said. His tone was much heavier than before, exuding the majesty of a superior.
"Oh, don't be nervous, child. I have always been lenient with my loyal subordinates, especially since you have merits and no faults," he said magnanimously. It felt very jarring—could you imagine a teenager speaking such world-weary words?
"Yes." Draco only then slowly raised his head.
"Relax a bit," Riddle said. A loyal subordinate and his son had found him and provided such great help, which immediately improved his mood.
"Will that man die?" Draco pointed at Lockhart somewhat shrinkingly, showing the fear a teenager should have when facing a dead body.
"Oh, that's an interesting question," Riddle said cheerfully. "It's a long story. As I see it, the real reason Lockhart became like this is that he opened his heart to an invisible stranger and poured out all his secrets."
Perhaps because he had been bottled up for too long, or maybe he wanted to show off to his loyal subordinate to build some loyalty, Riddle began to recount how he had manipulated Lockhart.
"Seriously, in all my years, this is the first time I've encountered such a weirdo." Riddle couldn't help but laugh out loud happily.
"He told me he embarrassed himself in his class. What were they called? Pixies? Dozens of Pixies turned his class into a chaotic mess. I comforted him, telling him he actually had great strength."
"Too funny. I wonder if Dumbledore has gone completely senile, choosing such a straw bag to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." He sneered.
"It's a good thing it's just a memory. If you knew you were even worse than this straw bag, you'd probably kill him instantly," Draco couldn't help but snark internally, while maintaining an attentive look on the surface, like a subordinate listening to a leader's lecture.
"Then I watched him write in the diary that he was afraid one day he'd be discovered as someone who knows nothing but the Memory Charm. He wanted to keep a low profile, but couldn't help showing off experiences that didn't belong to him. He kept blaming himself like that, and I kept guiding him—telling him he had strength, just lacked an opportunity."
"I even made him kill roosters, telling him that's how he'd gain power. He actually believed it. It's enough to make one die laughing."
"Hmm." Riddle paused to think, then continued, "That day, there was supposed to be a Quidditch match. To be honest, that kind of match is the most boring sport I've ever seen."
"+1," Draco said in his mind, feeling like he had found a kindred spirit.
"He actually vanished the bones of the boy who had defeated me." Riddle laughed unrestrainedly. "So I had to give him a little reward," he said.
"He wrote in the diary again that he could no longer bear the many suspicious looks and wanted real strength." Riddle chuckled. "So I satisfied him."
"But nothing in this world comes without an equivalent exchange. Thus, he paid with his life." Riddle looked at Lockhart lying on the ground with disgust again. "He should be dead in a little while."
"I am very satisfied," Riddle said. "It seems the assistant he defeated was also once a subordinate of mine. Draco, do you know what happened there?"
Draco shook his head as if playing dumb.
"Well, I can't expect a child to figure everything out," Riddle muttered to himself.
"Well, my power hasn't fully recovered yet; I still need some time. You may go. I will find you again." He licked his lips. "The next time we meet, there probably won't be any more mudblood at Hogwarts," he murmured.
Draco only said one thing in his heart: "Mission accomplished." After he ran straight to Dumbledore's office to tattle, this year could end happily.
"However," he said gloomily, looking at a pillar behind Draco, "you seem to have brought a tail in with you—and a filthy mudblood at that."