Well, still wonderfully ahead of the curve still, and the quota of two pages a day is being kept perfectly, and I happily announce that I have begun to return to giving attention and time my other fanfics as of today! Any, thank you to all my readers, and those who leave reviews, your all wonderful, and please continue to be inspiring! and enjoy!
Chapter Nineteen
Heirs of Darkness
Tom Riddle seethed from inside his prison. The blond fool, Lockhart, was easy to manipulate, his own compulsion to write in the diary amplified by another source of magic that Tom had yet to understand however, he was farther from his goal because of the idiot professor.
Luring Harry Potter down to the Chamber of Secrets would only work if he took one of the boy's friends, yet from what little Ginny had told him, the boy kept to himself, enshrouded within Slytherin house. In fact, from the girl's information, Tom felt that Mr. Potter was far more like himself than even he had ever imagined. All the more reason to meet with him, learn how he defeated his older self, and destroy him before he became too great a threat.
With this in mind, Tom had devised a new plan. A challenge of sorts, one that he knew he himself wouldn't resist, and if the boy was as his information told, neither would Potter. But first, Tom needed to relocate the Diary back to the one whose soul was most connected to it, Ginny Weasley.
Setting for the swap would be simple, as Lockhart took to carrying Tom with him everywhere. Only the subtlest of nudges on the way to breakfast was needed to get the man to pull the diary out to jot down some useless note or another, conveniently with Miss Weasley in perfect view of the man. Tom could feel the panic rising in the girl upon seeing the man with him. It wouldn't be long before she made a move to reclaim him, and he would take control of her, and finish his preparations for Potter.
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Anguis watched as his master gazed across the Great Hall, his eyes never leaving the red haired Weasley girl at the Gryffindor table. Tempting fate, he leaned in and whispered, careful not to attract notice of the other Slytherins, "Might I inquire as to your continued interest in the Gryffindor my Lord?"
"That would become apparent," Veneficus replied, sparing a single glance at Anguis, "if you were to watch her behavior as well, instead of my own."
Taken aback slightly, Anguis did so. The girl was agitated, clearly, pushing food around her plate but not eating, and every so often she'd steal a glance up at the staff table, specifically at the blonde head of Gilderoy Lockhart… "But why would she… Oh…" Anguis realized.
"Oh indeed…" Veneficus commented, grinning slightly, "removing that little diary from her possession seems to have caused little Miss Weasley great distress, despite the pages being completely blank… and if…" Veneficus paused, and Anguis leaned a bit closer.
"If what?" he asked, almost begging to be let in on his master's plan.
"If what I suspect is true, that diary will find its way back to her today, and the supposed 'heir' will make his move to attack the school again."
Just at that moment, the two Sith were interrupted by Professor McGonagall standing up at the Head table. "I have good news," she announced, which cause the overanxious children to erupt into guesses, ranging from the capture of the heir to the return of Quidditch, which had been cancelled after the attack on Granger.
To her credit, McGonagall kept her silence until the rabble had subsided, before finally continuing, "Professor Sprout has just informed me that the Mandrakes Hogwarts acquired at the beginning of this year are finally ready for cutting. Tonight, we will be reviving those people who have been petrified. Hopefully one of them will be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them, and this year will end with our catching the culprit."
The amassed students cheered. Anguis politely clapped, glancing sidelong at his master, whose expression had gone instantly blank, his eyes staring off into the far wall. Reaching out a hand, Anguis was about to nudge the Sith, when a frighteningly wicked grin spread over the black haired boy's face. Veneficus stood quickly, as the students started to make their way off to classes, and the Sith Lord grabbed a fistful of Anguis' robes, pulling him along toward the common room.
Anguis waited until they were alone in the corridor to voice his concern, "My Lord, what is it? We need to get to class before were missed…"
"It is of no consequence," Veneficus said, a manic sort of glee enveloping his face as they entered the deserted Slytherin common room. "We have far more important work than classes this day my Acolyte."
A casual flick of his secret wand, which Anguis greatly envied, and Veneficus had summoned his large black Sith cloak while simultaneously pacing in front of the darkened fireplace. "The Force has just granted me insight into the immediate future," he said quickly, eyes darting back and forth as if still seeing the vision instead of the room in front of him. "Many things are about to come together at once, and we must proceed carefully to make absolutely certain that they work out in our favor."
Anguis sat silently, knowing that his master was only speaking for his benefit, while the look in the illusionary green eyes indicated deep concentration. His patience was rewarded, as Veneficus began elaborating every move he had made that year with respect to the heir of Slytherin, tying the important facts directly back to the future efforts they had yet ahead of them. Slowly, as the information sank in, Anguis couldn't help but feel the same passionate energy that his master seemed filled with.
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Severus could feel that something was amiss. It was something more than the Headmaster being absent, but the feeling had started shortly afterward. The air around the castle seemed, thicker, almost like an invisible cloud of miasma. The strangest thing was that Severus seemed to be the only person in the castle capable of detecting the subtle difference.
Mentioning anything to Pomfrey would only have him in a hospital bed faster than lightning, and none of the staff would understand his meaning, with one exception. This was why he was now striding to the staff room during the first break of the day, a rarity for him. However, Severus knew that Minerva frequented the student free zone quite often, she having just as stressful a subject to teach as he, yet being more approachable by students, which demanded that the elderly Transfiguration Mistress have a place to unwind own during the day.
He had scarcely arrived at the end of the proper corridor, when Minerva's voice sounded, magically magnified, through the castle, worry mixed with her normally stern tone, "All students return to you House dormitories immediately. All teachers return to the staff room at once."
Severus felt his insides grow cold. An announcement like that could only mean another attack. Striding quickly the remaining distance to the staff room, Severus found himself to be the first to arrive. He didn't wait long however, as the others trickled in over the next few minutes, each ranging from looks of confusion, to utter terror.
Finally, Minerva arrived, and launched into her explanation immediately after closing the door. "It had happened; a student has been taken by the monster… right into the Chamber itself."
The teachers let out collective gasps is dismay, but Severus remained in control of himself, albeit his grip on the chair in front of his was growing painful, "How can you be sure?" he questioned, needed full confirmation of the fact.
"The Heir of Slytherin," Minerva replied, her face growing white, "left another message, right under the first. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever…'"
The small form of Professor Flitwick shuddered as the usually lighthearted man broke down in tears.
"Who is it?" Madam Hooch said from one of the back chairs, "Which student?"
"Ginny Weasley," Minerva replied sullenly.
The Transfiguration Mistress steadied herself, seeming to ready herself to issue how they were to proceed, when the bumbling fool Lockhart blundered in, feigning the dismissive optimism he had had since the removal of the Headmaster. But, facing a room full of fully qualified teachers, the man was soon verbally backed into a corner and driven away by their insistence that the fraud of a Defense Professor should 'finally be given a free rein to track down the monster himself,' Severus took small pride in the fact that he had headed the particular line of distraction for the fool, and the rest of the Professors had followed in suit. But the amusement dwindled rapidly in light of the dire situation.
Once ridden of Lockhart, Minerva directed the Heads of Houses to inform the students of the situation, and that they were to be removed from the school and sent home the next day, finally making certain that none of the students had departed the dormitories.
One by one, the professors left. Severus was torn between making certain that the Slytherins were all accounted for, and sharing his growing unease with Minerva, but he felt it wasn't the time to add any more distress to the woman's plate, and it was clear that this was the coming of this event that Severus had felt in the preceding weeks.
Stalking down to the dungeons, Severus burst through the Slytherin common room door, immediately taking a full head count of the students, only breathing a sigh of relief when all were present and accounted for. Beckoning them to gather around the fireplace, Severus stood solemnly before them. For their part, the students looked worried and confused, with two exceptions: Potter, and more likely by extension than anything else, Draco.
Frowning slightly, Severus took a closer look at Potter, who had a very strangely stylized cloak in his arms, and wore the air of the spoiled brat that Severus knew the boy to be. Albus had briefly mentioned that he had finally met the mysterious Lord Blackmoore, but hadn't had the time to tell the Potions Master the details of the encounter.
Speaking in a low voice, Severus started to relay Minerva's message to his Slytherins, while at the same time keeping his eyes on Potter and Draco, as they coolly watched the meeting, so drastically opposed to the rest who were outright devastated to be leaving the school. Setting himself into a automatic lecture about how they needed to keep out of trouble this last day because the attacker was still on the loose, Severus attempted to press into Potter's mind and see what the boy was so happy about.
Suddenly he was met by such a forceful Occlumency shield that Severus stuttered his speech in shock, before recovering quickly so that none of the students noticed. The boy was continuing to hold his gaze however, and soon there were thoughts forming in Severus' mind that were not his own.
"Now now Professor, we mustn't be digging around in minds that are not our own," the boy's voice taunted in the Potions Master's mind. "I've warned you once before, and will not hold myself back next time. You may warn the Headmaster of my defenses, and that I will not tolerate any more attempts at manipulation or deceit to get information out of me."
Breaking eye contact and silencing the downright fiendish boy from tormenting him, Severus made an end to his speech and departed the Slytherins quickly, his mind whirling with theories and his heart burning with suspicions.
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Everything was so clear, the future opening up like the pages of a book. Veneficus wondered briefly if this was the same feeling that Lord Millennial felt when he sat in silent meditation for hours on end, pondering the dark mysteries of the distant future for the Galaxy. Somehow he didn't think it was the same feeling. It seemed to Veneficus that every step was planned out beforehand for him, as though the Force itself required, no demanded, that events played out in a certain fashion.
Even in mentally confronting Snape, Veneficus felt perfectly comfortable with the results. The man would be far too busy pondering what false leads that he and the Headmaster had dreamed up to interfere with what would happen this night.
Zychre had returned shortly before the Potions Master's arrival, bringing the news that Veneficus needed. The Weasley girl had indeed brought the diary into the second floor bathroom, exactly where the fifty year old ghost of a dead girl resided, and spoke the noble tongue of snakes to enter a secret passage there.
Now that the hidden location of the Chamber was confirmed, Veneficus had only a handful of tasks to complete before going straight for the Chamber. With the Slytherin students milling about the common room, the Sith Lord took his Acolyte back to the empty dormitory and recovered the silvery invisibility cloak once again. Until Anguis learned the technique to conceal himself with the Force it was a necessary crutch for the blonde boy.
Slipping from the room unseen was relatively simple, the surrounding students so focused on their own situations of returning home to care when Veneficus pushed the door open, slipping out after Anguis. The last light from the sun were disappearing as the pair reached the grand staircase, Anguis removing the invisibility cloak and making his way to the second floor. He paused as Veneficus made to continue upward. "My Lord?" he asked in confusion.
"We have some unfinished business to attend to before entering the Chamber," the Sith Lord said, pulling the hood of his cloak far over his head and continuing up the stairs, Anguis following close behind.
Veneficus knew that the boy's confusion would be heightened when they approached Lockhart's office, but he was following as the Dark Side directed him. Besides, Veneficus was going to enjoy giving the pompous fool a taste of true terror.
The sounds of scraping, dull thumps and hurried footsteps sounded through the heavy door as the Sith gently knocked upon it. Everything went deathly quiet inside, before the door opened the tiniest crack for the Professor to peek out. The last thing the man expected was a solid kick from Veneficus, which launched Lockhart backwards into the room and shot the door wide open, crashing into the wall. Stalking inside, Anguis deftly shut and bolted the door while Veneficus advanced on Lockhart, ripping the hastily drawn wand from his hands and stowing it in his cloak.
"Wha-what do you want?" Lockhart stuttered in fear, and the Dark Lord of the Sith took a moment to drink in the pitiful state of the room. The famed Gilderoy Lockhart was apparently packing to run away from the problems of the castle, but that did not surprise nor concern Veneficus particularly.
He was busy figuring out what the Force wanted him to do with the man, having only been given enough insight to lead him here. Glaring down at the frightened man, his eyes burning with the Dark Side, Veneficus arrived on a conclusion. Both a wonderfully simple and yet deeply profound conclusion of what was to be done with Lockhart.
Waving his Blackthorn wand deftly, the three wizards watched as every personal effect of Lockhart's shrank, packed themselves, and shrank again. Over and over the process repeated until one single suitcase remained, the size of a small pebble, in Veneficus' hand.
Lockhart started to protest the sudden changing of all his belongings, but a stunning spell silenced him permanently, before he was forcibly shape shifted into a feather. Tossing both objects to Anguis with little care of their safety, Veneficus departed, shutting the locking the door after they left.
Anguis seemed to want to press his questions, but respectfully held his tongue with the urgency of their situation. Encountering no resistance, the pair of Force users made quick time retracing their steps back down to the second floor, crossing the hall where the crimson letters shone on the wall, and finally through the door of the girl's bathroom.
The ghost was present, naturally, and started shouting at the two boys almost immediately after they entered. Veneficus ignored her, turning to his acolyte. "You will need to stay here, and hang onto those," he indicated the pair of transfigured items in Anguis' hand.
The young boy frowned, clearly not wanting to simply be on lookout duty, especially with the annoying ghost berating him the whole time. But it was necessary, as Veneficus' Force vision had never included Anguis past this point. More than likely the boy would die if he proceeded beyond it, and as little as Veneficus cared for Anguis' safety, his usefulness was not something easily replaced.
Throwing the invisibility cloak at the boy, Veneficus set about to locate the hidden entrance of the Chamber of Secrets. His search inevitable led him closer to the ghost child, who was continuing to make an irritating amount of noise. Bending the sound waves around him with the Force effectively blocked the Sith from hearing her, and soon enough he discovered a sink that was completely broken, with a small snake symbol scratched onto the side of the tap. "Zychre." He hissed, summoning the little snake from within his robes, "what must be said to open this passageway?" he asked, but clearly the password for the entrance was simply the Parseltongue word for 'open' as the moment he spoke it the tap started to glow, and the entire contraption sank right into the floor, exposing a massive pipe below it.
Sensing that Anguis was dutifully standing by the door, the Sith Lord commanded for stairs to appear in the tunnel, smiling when he was again obeyed in the simply order. Taking blackthorn wand and saber in each hand, he slowly descended into the blackness.
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Darth Millennial felt the distinct shift in the Force, entombed in the compound deep beneath the spacious manor house in Great Hangleton. It came from the north of the same planet, so the mutant Sith could only assume that it was his apprentice. Odd though, that such bold usage of the Dark Side did not concern or worry him in the slightest.
It was almost as if… yes, it most certainly had to be, Millennial smirked to himself. Events were now in motion around his apprentice that the Force itself had determined must be, and was currently leading the young boy by the hand as it were. The Dark Lord was both impressed in his apprentice, and suddenly concerned what it meant for the future. For Veneficus to be having such powerful visions so young indicated a strong connection to the Force, strengthened and bolstered through action and ritual.
Smiling even more deeply at the conclusion, Millennial realized that his apprentice was keeping far busier at his school than the mutant had at first suspected.
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Tom Riddle waited in perfect silence for Potter to arrive, yet inwardly his excitement mounted higher and higher. The wards outside the Chamber had triggered, signaling that someone had indeed entered the outer halls, and soon, so very soon, the boy who would become Lord Voldemort would learn how he had fallen, and avenge his elder self on the 'Boy-who-Lived.'
In his time awaiting the boy's arrival, Tom glanced fondly around the Chamber that had been his home for his sixth year at Hogwarts, with its tall pillars and greenish hue in the air. It all rang just as familiar and warm as it had been so many years ago, the ancient magic which radiated from the castle above mixing with the dark smell of rituals cast long ago seeping up from the past.
It was intoxicating, and marked the true start of Lord Voldemort's rise to power. When he had, so long ago, discovered his true lineage back to the great Salazar Slytherin, and uncovered his ancestor's wisdom in mistrusting the muggles and their magical offspring.
It was intoxicating, being here again, soon to be at the apex of his rising with the defeat of his greatest foe.
His eyes falling upon the feet of the great statue of Slytherin, Voldemort considered his prey. The black robe was still stained slightly with the blood of her last message, the one he had made Ginny write just before bringing her down here, before beginning the ritual to drain her life force into himself, returning him to the physical world while erasing her completely.
A movement from the far side of the chamber drew his attention like lightning. A figure, somewhat shorter than Voldemort, dressed in a cloak black as midnight, the hood draw so deeply over the face that it obscured it completely, glided stealthily over the stone floor of the Chamber, pausing nearby Ginny and looking down at her prone form.
The mystery person slowly lowered his hood, a wand and some strange cylindrical object in each hand, and the young Dark Lord stiffened when he recognized the boy as Potter. What had truly struck him was the pure darkness the boy seemed to exude. Grasping at Ginny's wand in his pocket, the greatest sorcerer in the world strode confidently toward his enemy.
"She won't wake," he said softly, looking at Ginny as he approached. But inwardly he smiled, eager for the game to begin between himself and Potter. The green eyes watched him warily, and the boy tilted his head ever so slightly before responding equally softly, "She won't, will she?"
"No," Voldemort reassured the boy, studying the large black cloak and metal cylinder grasped tightly in one hand. Was it a weapon? It was clearly muggle, as Voldemort recognized the spell to prevent electronics from reacting with magic easily enough. Changing subjects quickly, he said "I have some questions for you Harry Potter. Questions I've waited a long time to get answers to…"
"Oh," Potter replied, his own smirk fading, while the boy continued to look at Ginny's fallen body, "what if I'm not in a answering mood for someone I have never met."
"But you have met me before Harry…" the Dark Lord said with a knowing smile, "and if you don't answer me, she may very well die." He added with a nod at Ginny.
That was when the green eyed boy laughed, a loud cold sound that reminded Voldemort so much of his own laugh at that age, "You honestly presume that I care whether this girl lives or dies?" Harry said.
Voldemort smirked, "No, not especially so, but the more you talk, the longer you live as well."
"Really?" the other boy said, voice lowering and his eyes sparking with some magic that was foreign to Voldemort, flashing a completely differed orange color momentarily. "So you think that the Heir of Slytherin has the power needed to stop me?"
Bristling slightly, Voldemort opened his mouth to retort, but Potter had already turned away from him and returned to pondering the fallen girl, "So, what did you do to her," he asked neutrally. Frowning, Voldemort pondered whether to answer or not, as he was the one asking questions. But, he decided to indulge the boy for a few questions before the end of his pitiful life.
"Well, that is an interesting question," he said, feigning pleasantry, "and also quite the long story. However, I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley is like this would be because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger…"
"The diary, then," Potter said with finality, and the Dark Lord nodded, "Yes, my diary… Little Ginny's been writing in it for many months now, telling me all her pitiful worries and childish woes… how her brothers tease her, how she despised coming to school with secondhand robes and books, how…" Voldemort looked directly at Potter with a smug expression, "…how the great Harry Potter turned out to be an evil, nasty Slytherin who didn't care about his own friends, let alone the rest of the wizarding world."
Potter didn't react, which disappointed Voldemort. "So," the boy replied instead, "you possessed her, and made her attack all the students, as you are," he paused, glancing at the Dark Lord's shimmering outline, "less than corporeal."
"Yes," Voldemort responded calmly, mildly impressed with the boy's deduction skill. Almost a pity he was going to kill him. "It was very amusing. Her new diary entries became far more interesting after that."
Frowning at the next part of his story, the Dark Lord continued, his eyes boring into Potter, who still refused to look at him, "but then she stopped writing for the longest time. I didn't know what had gone on, except that she no longer had the diary. When it was next opened, it was the magnanimous fool Lockhart." He paused at the memory, anger boiling under the surface. He knew that someone had initiated the transfer, more than likely Potter, but how he had known about the diary he did not.
"How did you know about my diary," he asked pointedly, to which Potter merely smiled at him, before turning away completely to admire the statue of Slytherin.
"A question for a question then," he said, "Where is the Basilisk?"
"I won't come until it's called," Voldemort said offhandedly, not willing to accept Potter's proposal, as if he thought himself equal to the Dark Lord he was so foolishly challenging.
"Then I suppose it's not important when I learned of your diary…" Potter responded dryly.
Scowling momentarily, Voldemort considered showing the stupid child where the Basilisk was, and allowing the deadly fangs to devour the boy's body. But the burning desire to learn his deepest question postponed his deadly ire for the time being. Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, Lord Voldemort continued to play the increasingly infuriating game with Potter.
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Veneficus knew that he was walking on thin ice by purposefully taunting the Heir of Slytherin, avoiding and deflecting his probing and very ravenous questions. But the Sith Lord had to continue to stall the tall dark haired phantom until he was certain of how to defeat him. Through the power of the Force, he could sense that the diary and the Heir of Slytherin were connected, one feeding the other the life force of the Weasley girl, but the diary had so many enchantments on it to protect it from damage, that Veneficus was sure not even a direct attack from his lightsaber would so much as singe it.
So, he continued to stall, "I think the arrangement of exchanging one question for another would work, if you could content yourself to be truthful…"
Slytherin's heir mere glared at Veneficus, but made no move to deny the arrangement. "So then, for a simple start," Veneficus said, smirking, "What is your name?"
"Already a complicated question, eh potter," the tall boy replied coldly, withdrawing a wand from his pocket, presumable the girls, and wrote mid air the words 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE' in fiery script.
Veneficus nodded, recognizing the name instantly from one of his pilfered vaults. The interesting thing he had learned before was the Riddle was a nonmagical family name, which meant that the supposed dark lord, Voldemort, had created the vault to disguise for whom the money was stored.
"My turn then I suppose," Riddle said, "Were you responsible for the diary being removed from Ginny's hands?"
"I may indeed have had a hand in the shift of ownership of the diary," Veneficus affirmed, watching the incredibly subtle tick form in Riddle's right eye. The game was nearing its end, and still he had not a clear idea how to cause the diary to cease to power the shade before him. Thinking quickly, Veneficus pondered the diary itself, as well as its connection to Riddle. A near impervious container, with naught but tendrils of magic feeding the phantom…
And suddenly a very wicked grin crossed the Sith Lord's face. With a plan for the diary, all that was left was the massive serpent to deal with. "How did you discover this Chamber, and the Basilisk that lives within it?"
The tick in Riddle's eye returned, and Veneficus knew that the specter had no desire or intention to answer many more questions. Even with the latest, the Sith was keen to recognize that Riddle avoided the actual question, "I discovered it during my sixth year after many years of searching. Once inside, I could hear the basilisk through the walls, and it obeyed me, and will only obey me…"
"Yes, but how did you get Ginny to command it…" Veneficus pressed, but Riddle stopped him.
"Tsk tsk Potter, I do believe it's my turn for a question now… " He chided, grinning at Veneficus as he did so. "How is it, they you, a skinny little boy with only marginal magical talent at best, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"
The Sith knew the game was over, as this had to be the burning question that Riddle wanted from him. How he had survived his elder self, Veneficus was still trying to understand how that was possible, as a baby. The Sith Lord knew parts of the truth, about his mother sacrificing herself in a form of love to protect him, something that Jedi would never understand, but he wasn't about to give Riddle the satisfaction of knowing the truth.
"It was destined, I believe, by the cosmic powers that I wield…" he said slyly, smirking at Riddle's look of confusion. In answer, Veneficus let the Force illusion drop, revealing the graying tint of his skin, and the fire orange eyes that burned with the magnificence of the Dark Side. He was gratified to see Riddle flinch slightly at the sudden change, but slowly the taller boy inched forward, intently curious, and briefly touched the Sith Lord's face, as if trying to remove the mottled skin. "How can this be?" he said slowly, struggling to understand.
"There are more powers in the Galaxy than just your vaunted magic, young Voldemort," Veneficus said, smirking. He could feel the subtle probes from the false dark lord, the young boy trying with his might to understand the Force presence surrounding Veneficus, to little avail however. The Sith knew that magic users simply lacked the ability to comprehend the full magnitude the Force offered, despite their magic being a small portion of the greater whole.
Suddenly snarling and drawing back, Voldemort drew to his full height, which still was not very impressive to Veneficus, "You will teach me all you know of this power, or you Harry Potter, will die," he demanded.
"Is this an offer of partnership?" the Dark Lord of the Sith replied, raising an eyebrow at the sudden rage in Riddle. Did he truly feel threatened because of some power he could not imagine?
"Of course not," Riddle seethed, "you are beneath me, despite what abilities you may have, I am the most power sorcerer in the world, and you will explain your power so that I can master it, then you will die regardless."
"A pity then," Veneficus said softly, looking away while yet keeping an eye on Riddle's movements. He knew the breaking point was close, "that the powers I have are those you are born with, and cannot be learned or taken from one who does not possess them naturally…"
Riddle was glaring again, the tick returning with greater ferocity, but Veneficus carried on, uncaring of when the phantom chose to attack. "and besides, if your elder self could not stop me, twice I may add as he tried to defeat me last year, what makes you think that some scrawny teenager whose barely corporeal can do to hinder me?"
"I will show you!" Voldemort said, voice cold and poisonous, "Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter, and whatever dark magic he may claim to have…"
Turning to the statue of a man who Veneficus could only assume was Salazar Slytherin himself, the teenager started to speak, rasping and sputtering in Parseltongue, "Ssspeak to me, Ssslytherin, greatessst of the Hogwartsss Four…"
The Lord of the Sith felt the Basilisk move long before he saw the statue's mouth start to gape open. Shutting his eyes, relying totally on the Force to sense his surroundings, Veneficus put a marginal amount of space between himself and Riddle, just as the massive form of the king of snakes thudded into the wet ground.
"Kill him…" Riddle hissed, and the gargantuan body started to move rapidly toward him. relying on what information he had stolen from Riddle in their game of words, Veneficus used the only tool he thought might work, his own ability to speak the language Slytherin prized above all else.
"Ssstop!" he sputtered, and the Basilisk skidded to a halt, confused at the contradicting commands. "Massster, it ssspeaksss…" the Basilisk said, swaying back and forth from what Veneficus could sense. Amplifying his words with the Force, to soothe and persuade the beast to obey him instead of Riddle, Veneficus continued to speak to it directly, "Thisss other one who commandsss you isss not whom you ssshould ssserve, mighty one…"
"Do not lisssten, I am your massster, the blood heir of great Ssslytherin," Voldemort seethed, advancing on the stalled creature, and raising his wand at Veneficus. The Sith flicked his lightsaber into a more defensive position, but held off igniting the blade for the time being.
"Be not a fool great ssserpent, but let me proove that I am worthy of your power… let me defeat thisss other ssspeaker, and take what he isss unworthy to ussse…" he pressed further, and to his satisfaction felt the mind of the beast give way, finding the Sith's counsel to be the more reasonable, and the great snake started to back away from the pair of them.
"No, I command you to kill the boy now! I am your massster, and you will obey me!" Riddle raged, but the Basilisk held its peace. Cautiously, Veneficus cracked his eyes open, to find that the Basilisk had slid protective lids over its own, preventing its death glare from taking effect while allowing it to continue to see.
Smirking at the success of his ploy, he turned to Voldemort, "it seems your pet doesn't completely approve of the way you've been handling it…."
That did it, the final straw. Riddle whirled on him, manic glee mixed with rage on his face. "I will destroy you Harry Potter!" he screamed, raising the wand. Veneficus dodged, spinning aside from the oncoming spell, and summoning to life his saber with its wonderful snap hiss of crimson fury, before charging the teenage dark lord. Only one objective ran through Veneficus' mind: get the diary.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Riddle realized the weakness that the little book posed, and purposefully planted himself between Veneficus and the Weasley girl's body. Veneficus was forced to recognize that Riddle was a gifted spellcaster, as the wide array of spells backing him away from his intended destination contained quite a few that Veneficus hadn't learned yet, and a few he was not aware exsisted.
He had presumed that charging as he had initially would have thrown Riddle in confusion, but the boy clearly wasn't some pampered pureblood wizard, but rather had a decent knowledge of non-magicals and their methods of fighting. Not that it would prepare the teen when Veneficus unleashed the might of the Dark Side, batting aside curses with his saber and tossing bolts of Sith lightning at the specter.
To his credit, Riddle looked deeply unnerved by the display of the Force, but Veneficus had only merely begun. Gathering the Force around him, he leapt high into the vaulted ceiling, raining spells and lightning from above as he flew over Riddle, forcing the phantom to move, before landing just on the far side of Weasley's body.
Seizing the diary from the girl's cold fingers, Veneficus looked up and locked eyes with Voldemort. The maddened eyes, wide with rage and fear, drew wider still as the boy screamed out a curse, but Veneficus had already started tearing at the bonding magic, which was draining the girl's body through the connection to Riddle, desperately pulling Weasley's life force back to the girl. Riddle let out a strangled scream, and within moments, faded from existence, the girl's wand clattering to the ground.