Chapter 1: Confrontation with Riddle

The silence stretched. None of the people present said a word, whether it was the two humans or the giant snake. Harry did not even dare to move, pinned to the spot by the feline gaze of his opponent. However, despite the fact that he was impressive because of his appearance, he didn't look hostile. More intrigued and a little puzzled. His head slightly tilted to the side made him think vaguely of a cat who would evaluate something he did not know.

Finally, he moved, standing up again with the grace of a predator. Harry swallowed with apprehension. The man did not look hostile, but he was a stranger, and unless he was mistaken, an experienced warrior. He had barely two years of magical instruction under his belt, and again. Lockhart had not taught them anything useful.

Esmeralda had not moved from her position beside him, bringing him some comfort. The whole situation gave him the impression of having entered the 4th dimension, but he had this impression since he had entered the magical world anyway. The man's lips twitched, forming a slight amused smile.

"You can approach, you know. I won't bite."

Harry blinked in surprise as he heard it. His deep voice was calm, like the rest of his appearance, and contained a quiet assurance. With hesitation, he moved a little away from Esmeralda.

"Who are you?" He asked shyly. "Esmeralda called you "The Nightmare". Why?"

His interlocutor sighed softly.

"I see that my story has not been completely forgotten, even if, obviously, it is probably more than incomplete. My name is Sephiroth."

"Sephiroth?" Harry repeated. "It sounds like a Bible name, no? I'm Harry."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, visibly perplexed.

"I couldn't tell you, I have never been interested in religion. I really only believe in Minerva, the Goddess."

It was Harry's turn to blink his eyes.

"Minerva? Like Professor McGonagall?"

Sephiroth looked amused.

"I do not know, but I doubt it's the same person. Minerva is the consciousness of the Lifestream. That's where the souls come from, and where they return after their death."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked curiously, approaching a little more.

"It's a long story," he sighed. "A very long story. I hope you have time to spare?"

"It's Saturday," Harry replied. "I've got time."

So Sephiroth invited Harry to sit on the floor, and told him his story. How he grew up in a lab, experienced on since before his birth. How he had been trained in the art of war as soon as he knew how to walk. How he had been thrown, almost literally on the battlefield at age twelve, bombarded general far too young. How he had met the two people who had become his only friends. How their friendship had collapsed when Genesis had been injured in a training match, which caused the collapse of his cells, called Degradation, which had slowly drove him insane, driving him to desert with Angeal. How Angeal had died, having forced his apprentice, Zack, to kill him. What had happened in Nibelheim, and which had earned him his name of Nightmare. How he had tried to destroy the world under the influence of Jenova. How he had died three times and pulled out of the Lifestream against its will.

And Harry had remained motionless, listening almost religiously to Sephiroth's words. Even Esmeralda had remained silent to listen to him. He asked shyly who Jenova was, a little intimidated by the venom with which Sephiroth had pronounced the name.

So, Sephiroth explained. How he was injected with her cells even before he was born, while still in his mother's womb, just like Angeal and Genesis, and the difference between the cells. Live for him, but dead for them, which caused the problems he had talked about. He also explained how his defenses had suffered from the desertion of Genesis, then Angeal, and the death of the latter. How he had blocked Jenova's voice, before he suffered a nervous collapse in Nibelheim, and set the village ablaze under her control. He explained how Jenova had taken control of his mind, taking advantage of the fact that he had been told that she was his mother. How Cloud could kill him, taking advantage of the fact that he had completely lowered his guard. How his mind had shattered when Cloud had managed to throw him to the bottom of the Reactor, directly in the Lifestream. How Jenova had slowly restored him over the five years that followed, before he snatched control... or at least, had thought to do it. He had recovered a semblance of control, yes, but not as much as he had thought at the time.

He also spoke of The Meteor. He briefly explained what Materia was, and especially the Black Materia. He explained it's role, a last resort for the Planet, a kind of suicide device, to shorten it's suffering. He also spoke of Weapons, creatures similar to an immune system around the globe, created to counter the Calamity. He explained how Cloud had killed him for the second time with his friends.

"No matter your martial prowess," he said softly, "an eight-to-one fight will ALWAYS be unbalanced and to your detriment. Plus, they had an another advantage over me."

"What was it?" The child asked softly.

"They did not fight to destroy the world, but to protect it. And they did not give up before defeating me and succeeding in protecting it. They put all their heart into the battle."

He then talked about Hojo cloning him. Geostigmas, and what his Remnants had done to bring him back. His last fight against Cloud, where Jenova had finally left him in peace after this last defeat. His soul had finally become nearly complete, and he had been horrified by his actions. He had never wanted to do that. It was not him.

But Cloud and his friends would never have listened to him. Not that he blamed them, frankly. After what he had done... He still remembered his meeting with Elfé. She had asked him if he had a reason to fight. At the time, he did not know what to answer.

Then Minerva had made him an offer, a new life in another world, and he had accepted. Angeal and Genesis had respectively been brought back to life and out of their sleep, and for a time he had been… happy, yes. He had learned to live. And then everything had been torn from him again. With someone who had become dear to them all.

And he went back to Gaia. Where he had been sealed in a crystal made of Condensed Lifestream, like Materia, at his own request. Waiting one day to be able to repent his crimes.

And Sephiroth finally shut up. Relieved to have finished with his story. Knowing that the legends about him would have been far from the truth, he had preferred to tell Harry everything so that he knew the truth. That way, if someone tried to get him away from him by telling him a distorted version, he would be able to make his own opinion.

"Now that I told you my story," said Sephiroth softly, "it's your turn to do the same."

Harry flinched.

"Really?" He asked shyly. "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"I told you my story, it's up to you to do the same. I would not judge you, if that's what worries you."

The boy hesitated. He recognized that his interlocutor was right, but he could not help being ashamed. He was supposed to be the great hero of the wizarding world, but he could not even protect himself from a overweight muggle! Yet, Sephiroth's gaze spoke the truth. He would clearly not judge him, and he waited patiently for Harry to decide to speak.

Then, slowly, in a choppy way, he began to tell his life. Unknowingly minimizing what the Dursleys had done to him, as he had done in telling Esmeralda. He spoke of the cupboard under the stairs, in which he had slept until he received his first letter for Hogwarts. The beatings, the lack of food, the psychological abuse, the fact that he had only knew his name on entering school, thinking until then that his name was Freak or Boy. How Marge enjoyed sending Ripper, her bulldog, to attack him. Sometimes trapping him at the top of a tree for hours. And the blows he received being finally allowed to go down, because he could not prepare dinner.

Sephiroth listened to him practically without saying a word, only interrupting him from time to time to ask for details on this and that. Harry could not see it, but Sephiroth struggled to keep his calm. He had only one desire, to find these… things (they did not even deserve the title of animals, let alone humans) and teach them why he was called The Nightmare. The only things that held him back were the fact that Harry had seen enough horrors as it is, and that he did not know where they lived.

Harry also explained what had apparently happened to his parents. That they had been murdered by a Dark Lord, Voldemort. How everyone was too terrified to just pronounce his name, and how he would have apparently defeated him at 15 months old. Sephiroth could not help but scoff at that.

"Wizards are idiots," he remarked in response to Harry's perplexed look.

"Why do you say that?"

"Simple logic. At fifteen months old, a child simply doesn't have the cognitive abilities to understand or control his magic, let alone death. I think it's your mother who did something to protect you."

Harry nodded shyly.

"I think so too."

Finally, he touched the two years that had just passed. What had happened during the first, with Fluffy the Cerberus, Quirrelmort, the Philosopher's Stone, etc. Sephiroth had serious suspicions about the Headmaster on hearing this. It stank the manipulations full nose. Three 11-year-olds, able to pass these tests? There was something particularly suspicious in this story. He had to do himself a lot of violence not to explode when Harry told him what had happened in the summer between the two years.

They had tried to kill him by starving him, shit! He was pretty sure that with another month of this diet, Hedwig would have been dead for a long time, and Harry would not have held out until school started. And as for this year... Harry had been treated like an outcast simply because he could talk to snakes. There was nothing evil in there! It's not because some people were bad when they spoke that language that ALL who spoke it were bad!

As for the petrifactions... Harry explained that Esmeralda had been forced to attack the Muggleborn children of the school, when she did not want to. It was not her role. He was surprised to understand what Esmeralda was saying in confirmation, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a touch of annoyance. Apparently, besides keeping him up to date regarding the spoken/written language of the area, the Lifestream had also offered Parseltongue. Another black mark against him, as if he needed that. He contemplated a moment to change his appearance when leaving the Chamber of Secrets, as Harry had told him it was called, before giving up. In any case, his identity would be quickly known.

Esmeralda suddenly looked up, looking towards the main room, behind her and Harry.

§HE is here,§ she hissed, her tone a mixture of disgust and anger.

So like that, the soul fragment of the Black Mage was here. In this case, he would take care of him. He stood up elegantly, catching the attention of a worried Harry.

"Since he is here, let's go and welcome him decently, right?" He asked Harry, offering him a reassuring smile. "Do not worry, I will not let him do more damage."

"And the girl he possessed?" Tried Harry.

"If it's not too late for her, of course I'll save her," Sephiroth said firmly, moving toward the door that Harry and Esmeralda had used.

She explained that the password was only used to enter, but that it would be enough to touch the door from the inside to go out. He did as she said, and saw the portion of the wall slide to reveal the huge cavern. Harry just behind him, he went out, ready to call Masamune if necessary.

His eyes fell on a redhead girl, who must have been about the same age as Harry, and the latter letting out a "Ginny!" showed that he knew her. The boy ran to the girl as he scanned the place. Nobody yet, for now. She was lying at the feet of the statue, apparently unconscious. He could see she was still alive, but her condition was clearly critical.

Harry was shaking her, trying desperately to wake her up, but her head bobbed to and fro like a rag doll.

"Don't bother, she won't wake," said a soft voice.

oOo

Albus "too many names" Dumbledore did not understand what was happening. About an hour earlier, an alarm had echoed in the school as he was coming down to dinner. The shrill sound had sounded everywhere, and it was impossible to stop it. He had come across frantic students, especially Muggleborns, and many Purebloods who did not understand what was going on.

The teachers were not very helpful either, none knew what was going on. He had ordered that all students be escorted back to their common rooms, and a heads count performed. After that, he went back to his office, where he found the Sorting Hat giving a dressing-down to the portraits of former headmasters.

"... And if the moron who removed the portraits of the Founders had not done this stupidity, you would know what is happening!"

"The ideas they proposed were absurd!" Protested one of them. "And then, it is impossible that Salazar Slytherin was the advocate of the Muggleborns! Everyone knows he was a Pureblood! And that he despised the Muggleborns, who are inferior to the Purebloods! It could NOT be his portrait!"

"Blah, blah, blah!" Exclaimed the Sorting Hat sarcastically. "Are you going to tell me that I know less than you about the Founders? The ones who created me? Then I'm an old baseball cap in this case!"

"What is going on here?" Albus asked in an authoritarian tone, a little shocked from the language of the old hat.

Phineas Black pointed at the Sorting Hat from inside his portrait.

"This old Sorting Hat decided not to explain why he said "Ooops, it looks like the Nightmare is awake" while chuckling when the alarm started."

Albus blinked in surprise, before frowning pensively, searching in his memories via Occlumency. Finally, he found a reference. The ancient Legend of the Meteor. He looked at the Sorting Hat, frowning.

"Clarence, the Nightmare is a legend. There is no proof that he exists."

The Sorting Hat burst out laughing at that.

"A legend? Really? And what are dragons, unicorns, and sphinxes for Muggleborns, Albus? Until they enter the wizarding world, they are just myths too."

Albus turned pale when he heard that. All the legends that wizards passed down from generation to generation about the Nightmare insisted on its power and dangerousness. If he was really as powerful and dangerous as the stories said, then they had a huge problem on their hands. After all... he had almost destroyed the world and he would have succeeded without a group of heroes called Avalanche.

And if he really woke up... that would mean that he had slept for thousands of thousands of years. Except that given the stories about his power, he doubted it had dulled his strength. Which meant that they had one of the most powerful Dark Wizards that existed walking free right now.

"Headmaster, the teachers are here!" Exclaimed the portrait of a young woman, running into the landscape hanging next to the door.

Immediately, the portraits of the former headmasters calmed down and settled in their frames, pretending to sleep. Albus shook himself mentally, and sat down at his desk, turning to the hat.

"Clarence, there wouldn't be a way to stop this alarm?"

"Nope," cheerfully replied the Hat. "It will stop on its own when the danger is over. And, just for your information, the Nightmare is not the most dangerous thing currently inside the school. And you know what I'm talking about," he added more seriously, managing to give the impression of a dark look despite his lack of eyes. "So why don't you do anything?"

Albus chose not to answer. He had reason to do nothing when he was warned of the presence of the diary. He had the hope that Harry would manage to destroy it, but without himself surviving the encounter.

At least the alarm was not deafening. It was annoying, but bearable. The staff members entered the office one after the other, sitting on the chairs he had created in anticipation of that. Apart from Lockhart, who wore his usual silly smile, everyone looked serious, the worst being Minerva, who looked like she would collapsed.

"We have a problem Albus," she said in a dark voice. "All students are present and accounted for, with the exception of two: Miss Weasley and Mister Potter."

Albus blinked in surprise. He was not surprised by the disappearance of the young Weasley, knowing that it was she who was in possession of the cursed diary. But Harry?

"Harry?" He asked with surprise. "Do you have any details, Minerva?"

"Mister Potter had gone to visit Miss Granger, who, as you know, is still petrified in the infirmary. Poppy saw him for the last time around 11am this morning, before he went out, leaving his bag under Miss Granger's bed. Since then, no one has seen him in the Gryffindor Common Room, or even the rest of the school," she reported, her lips pursed with worry. "As for Miss Weasley, a message was painted on the wall, just below the previous one: Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."

Albus pursed his lips. Miss Weasley's death was an inevitable sacrifice. Even if Harry managed to destroy the Horcrux, Miss Weasley must have been on the verge of death, her vital force almost entirely drained. He would have to use Molly's carefully chosen compulsions, and perhaps stronger potions of loyalties, so that she does not question his plan. He had nothing against the plan to enslave Harry with love potions targeted on Ginevra, but in the end, it was not essential. In any case, the child was so obsessed with Harry that he would not have been surprised to know that Molly was giving her some too. The hair that had been collected from Harry over the years had been useful, but if that plan fell through, it was not a big deal. After all, it was for the Greater good.

Nobody paid attention to Fawkes' sad trill on his pole, thinking it was connected with the news that Minerva had just brought. In reality, it was the thoughts that agitated Albus' mind that were sadening the mythical bird. If only he could leave... but he was chained. Giving the illusion that Albus was on the Good side. While it had nothing to do with it.

If only someone could destroy the chains that bound him to Albus… he would abandon him without hesitating for a moment.

oOo

"Don't bother, she won't wake," suddenly said a soft voice.

Harry jumped and turned, still on his knees.

A tall young man with black hair, was watching him, leaning against a pillar. His outlines were strangely unclear, as if Harry had looked through a frosted window. But he was perfectly recognizable.

"Tom...Tom Riddle!"

Riddle nodded without looking away from Harry.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not … she's not...?"

"She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

Harry stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

He pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. For a second, Harry wondered how it had got there, but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get her out of here."

"Don't bother, no one can help her," said Riddle carelessly.

"Why?" Harry asked, looking at him with big eyes.

Riddle had paid no attention to Sephiroth for the moment, who was content to watch the scene carefully. He could see the magic threads around him, all dark and clearly showing their bad and evil intentions. He was still trying to understand how they interacted with each other, and especially what they were doing. Some were attached to the diary, others clung to the girl, and others to the shadow of the teenager named Riddle. He had a bad feeling about this whole thing.

Sephiroth quietly activated his Scan Materia, allowing him to see the girl's condition. And he saw that her life force was dangerously and abnormally low.

"What d'you mean?" Harry added after a few seconds.

"I waited a long time for this moment, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "The moment to see you, to talk to you."

"Listen," said Harry, losing patience, "I think you do not understand the situation very well. We are in the Chamber of Secrets. We'll talk later, when we're out of here."

"No, we're going to talk now," Riddle replied, still smiling broadly.

Harry watched carefully. He did not understand how Riddle could be so calm considering their situation. Esmeralda might not be mean, not naturally, but anyone would be worried about being here.

"What happened to Ginny?" he asked slowly.

"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes, how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how" Riddle's eyes glinted "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…"

All the while, Riddle had not looked away from Harry. There was almost greed in his eyes. Harry swallowed. Riddle was beginning to seriously worry him. The only reason he did not panic was Sephiroth's presence behind him.

"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom. she wrote to me I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…"

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.

"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…"

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No," Harry whispered.

"Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries … far more interesting, they became. … Dear Tom," he recited, watching Harry's horrified face, "I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me. … There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad. … I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"

Harry clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet."

"And why did you want to meet me?" Harry asked.

He felt himself tremble with fury and he had trouble speaking in an equal voice.

"Ginny told me about you, Harry," Riddle replied. "She did not hide anything from your fascinating story."

His eyes roved over the light ning scar on Harry's forehead, and their expression grew hungrier.

"I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."

"Hagrid's my friend," said Harry, his voice now shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but..."

Riddle burst out laughing again.

"It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student… on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls … but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret en trance … as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," said Harry, his teeth gritted.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead an other in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," said Harry triumphantly. "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be alright again."

"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been… you."

Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish lit tle brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery, particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue. So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. Even if I don't understand how you got here before us. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat, fists still clenched.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent 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?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter."

He took Ginny's wand out of his pocket and wrote in the air in glittering letters.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he made a movement with the wand and the letters of his name were assembled in a different order. Now it reads:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

"You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?No, Harry, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Harry felt like his brain was numb. Bewildered, he was gazing at Riddle, the orphan who had become the murderer of his parents and many others…

After a long time, Sephiroth spoke, drawing attention to him.

"As far as I can see, even at sixteen, you were already an idiot and a coward, and that has not visibly steadied with the years," Sephiroth said calmly, advancing quietly with the grace of a predator, coming to place himself next to Harry and Ginny.

Arms crossed over his chest, he stared at Riddle/Voldemort with a scornful look. The latter stared at him arrogantly.

"A coward?" He asked in a dangerous tone.

"A coward," Sephiroth confirmed, still calm. "Your name proves it. Voldemort, "Flight from Death" in English," he translated calmly. "You are so afraid of death that you have deliberately fractured your soul. And most importantly, you are able to pick on a baby who can not defend himself. As for your defeat, I doubt that it was due to Harry, but rather to his mother. And if you buy the opposite, you're an idiot."

"And what do you know?" Riddle hissed angrily.

"I've already died three times," Sephiroth remarked calmly. "And believe me, from experience, death is not so terrible compared to what I have already experienced."

"There is nothing worse than death!" Riddle growled.

"Really?" Sephiroth asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know what you are talking about? I do. Have you ever been immersed in pure Mako? Believe me, you have the impression of being immersed in a bath of acid, which would not destroy your body, and therefore would not end your suffering. You've already had your arm broken repeatedly, to see how long it would take to get together again? Without anesthesia of course, because that would distort the results. Or have you had your body opened with a scalpel, to see the effect that certain substances would have on your internal organs? Take off a piece of your gut, to see how long it would take to recover? In comparison, death is a relief."

Harry looked at him with wide eyes, horrified by what he had been through. When he had told his story, Sephiroth had only skimmed over what had been done to him, without going into details. Harry understood better now why he had finally lose it in the past, if what he had just said was representative of what he had experienced.

Riddle stared at him with frowning brow.

"You died three times, you say? In this case, death must not be that good," he taunted, "... if you escaped several times."

Sephiroth snorted, his gaze gazing at Riddle scornfully.

"If it had only been for me, I would not have come back to life. But as my soul could not re-enter the Lifestream, fractured as it was, I could not resist the monster who had taken control of my actions. And the fact that my soul was in pieces was not my fault. And, before you make any wrong assumptions, no, I did not use any rituals to get back to life."

The confusion appeared on Riddle's face. Then he asked a question he had not asked until then.

"WHO are you exactly? How could you come back to life three times, if you did not use any obscure ritual?"

Sephiroth laughed softly, and Harry felt an icy chill run down his back. There was something scary in that laugh, and he was reassured to know that Sephiroth was on his side, and not Riddle's. The look he was glaring at Riddle was cold, hard, and implacable. Yes, Harry was very glad he was not his enemy…

"Who I am? Do you really need to ask the question? So you have not heard of me, in the legends told by the wizards? Yet, it is certainly one of the oldest and most famous."

Riddle frowned, then his eyes widened in amazement.

"Don't tell me that… you are THE Nightmare?"

"More exactly, my name is Sephiroth," said the latter carelessly. "But yes, this is one of my titles."

Riddle burst out again in that icy and disturbing laugh, and Harry shivered. Definitely, he scared him. He was at least relieved to know that Sephiroth was on his side, and would certainly refuse to help Riddle.

"Oh, it's so perfect Harry Potter! The famous Nightmare, the one who almost destroyed the world, is back! These lower muggles have no chance against you! You will be able to please yourself so much by destroying and dominating them!"

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, before raising his middle finger towards Riddle sarcastically.

"Sit on it and spin, as someone who was dear to me would have said."

Riddle immediately stopped laughing, looking shocked.

"Sorry?" He asked in a dangerous tone. "You're telling me what, you're a fucking fag?"

Harry, on the side, was watching the conversation like a tennis match. If the situation had not been so dire, he would have burst out laughing at Tom's face when Sephiroth said that. The latter looked almost amused.

"Technically speaking, once I finally had the opportunity to explore my sexuality, I discovered that I was rather bisexual. However, that is not the subject. Violence and destruction, I have already given into it. And it only brought me more suffering. It is also a good thing that you have not found my crystal before."

"Why?" Tom asked in a low, dangerous tone.

"Because I would have refused to wake up for someone as bad as you," Sephiroth replied on a calm, laid-back tone. "My crystal would have been moved elsewhere, and you would never have found me again. Violence and destruction are not what I want. You could have screamed as much as you wanted, you would never have reached me."

His gaze then turned to Harry, and the boy was surprised to see that his look was warm, unlike when he looked at Tom. Sephiroth turned his attention back to Riddle, his eyes getting cold and hard again.

"A voice calling me to put the world on fire would have had no impact on me. But a weak, childlike voice calling for help? Who begs someone to protect him? That, yes, it could reach me. Because that's my truth. That's what I expected and hoped for. That's why I woke up."

Harry stared at him with wide eyes as he heard that. So… it was his plea that made him wake up? His eyes went back to Riddle, and they widened. Since earlier, Riddle's silhouette had become less blurry, more solid. He remembered what he said earlier. He was draining Ginny's life force! If it went on, he was going to kill her! Fortunately, Sephiroth was also aware of it.

"You had your fun, kid. I do not know exactly what you did, but I'm not going to let you kill those children," he said calmly.

He closed his left hand on the air, or rather on a sort of... light turquoise green flame, like the pyreflies that had formed the crystal. Flame that disappeared almost immediately to give way to a long sword. Harry looked at it with big eyes. Okay, that was weird. The long, thin blade looked like a Japanese sword… that would have measured nearly seven feets long. It had to be at least as tall as Sephiroth, not to mention the handle. How could he move it with such ease?

Tom stepped back, visibly surprised. He then smiled badly.

"All right, if you take it like that. We'll see how the legendary Nightmare holds up against Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk."

He walked away, getting closer to the giant statue. Tom looked up at Slytherin's stone face, half drowned in the darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed, but Harry understood what he was saying.

§Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.§

Harry blinked in surprise as he heard the password. He would have to ask Esmeralda about it, because he did not see why Salazar had put this sentence to open this entrance. Slytherin's giant face began to move, pulling him from his thoughts. In horror, Harry saw the stone mouth open larger and larger, forming a huge black hole.

Something stirred inside the gaping mouth, something that slither out of its depths.

Harry pulled back to the wall and closed his eyes, not wanting to be accidentally killed by Esmeralda. A heavy mass fell to the ground, making him tremble.

§Esmeralda, no!§ He called in a supplicating tone. §Don't listen to him!§

§Who are you talking to, Potter?§ Asked Riddle's mocking voice. §Don't you know that the basilisk only obeys descendants of Slytherin? Speaking Parseltongue will not save you here!§

The silence stretched, terrifying Harry. Why wasn't Sephiroth doing anything? What was happening? Riddle spoke again, sounding pissed off.

§What are you waiting for? Kill him!§

Esmeralda then spoke, surprising Harry.

§I do not think so, little Black Mage,§ she hissed. §You are no longer the heir of Sal.§

§What!?§ Exclaimed Riddle, obviously shocked.

Surprised, Harry opened his eyes. Esmeralda was standing in front of him, protecting him with her body. He could not even see Sephiroth, Esmeralda's body being almost as thick as he was tall. Her head was raised high in the air, culminating at least ten meters.

§I AM the heir of Salazar Slytherin!§ Riddle hissed furiously. §You are supposed to obey me!§

§For that, you would have to be Sal's real heir,§ Esmeralda replied disdainfully. §And moreover, you obviously did NOT do your research properly. Otherwise, you would know that I am a female.§

§WHAT?§Riddle shouted, looking furious.

§Sal had included a clause in his family magic,§ Esmeralda developed. §If one of his descendants used a ritual as evil as the one you used with this diary, then he would be immediately disowned. You are no longer Sal's heir since you did that. Harry is. And his claim is superior to yours. I can not say how, but it is.§

§It's impossible!§ Shouted Tom, visibly losing control of his emotions.

Esmeralda laughs in response.

§It hurts, huh, little Black Mage? To know that you are no longer the heir of Sal? Too bad for you ! In a conflict between two heirs, it is the one with the morality closest to Sal that will win each time. Between obeying you and Harry, Harry will win every time. He is much more worthy of being Sal's heir than you. As for your diary... did you know that my venom is one of the things that can destroy it? Even if it seems that I do not need to take care of it...§

§Leave this diary!§ Tom suddenly shouted, sounding panicked this time.

§I don't think so, no,§ Sephiroth replied calmly. §I finally figured out how the spells you put on this book worked, and I'm going to tell you a secret: I can see magic. And if I can see the threads that support the existence of your soul piece, what do you think I can do to them?§

§NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!§ yelled Tom.

His yell suddenly changed into a long shrill scream, which made Harry shudder before cutting itself abruptly. Something fell to the floor, resonating in the sudden silence. All Harry could hear now was a curious sound of drops of water falling to the ground. After a moment, Sephiroth's voice rose in the silence.

§You can come out, Harry. The danger is over.§

Harry cautiously skirted around Esmeralda, coming in sight of Sephiroth. The latter held a little black book between two fingers, his expression slightly disgusted at the ink that continued to drip from it's pages. He dropped the diary, turning his attention to Harry.

"It's really over?" The boy asked shyly.

Sephiroth nodded, turning to squat next to Ginny. Delicately, he took her pulse, nodding in relief as he saw how she was managing. He had intervened just in time. He raised his head as Harry approached, looking worried.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine. We intervened just in time. An extra hour, though, and it would have been too late."

Harry sighed with relief.

"Ron will be relieved. And especially her parents. She's their only daughter," he explained as he saw Sephiroth's intrigued look. "She has six brothers, including Ron."

Sephiroth snorted with amusement.

"The poor child. She should awake soon, but I doubt she will be able to walk for several hours."

A groan caught their attention, and Harry squatted in front of Ginny, anxious. She fluttered her eyelids slightly, opening her eyes, and her gaze fell on Esmeralda. Her shrill scream of panic made Sephiroth wince, his sensitive ears resonating under the effect of the decibels. She then passed out, briefly frightening Harry, before Sephiroth calmed him.

"Relax, she just fainted. I think she panicked when she saw Esmeralda."

The latter flattened on the ground, chagrined.

§I would so much like to tell her that it was not her fault,§ she hissed.

§We will tell her,§ assured Sephiroth. §In the meantime, do you know a way for us to get out of here?§

Esmeralda nodded.

§Sal had planned a staircase that goes up alone in the pipe leading to the bathroom by which the Black Mage made me go out. Even if it was not always a bathroom,§ she chuckled. §At the base, it was a wash-house. I don't know who's the idiot that decided to make it a bathroom for females.§

§I suppose you just need to ask for stairs in this case?§ Sephiroth asked without hiding his amusement.

Esmeralda nodded again.

§It will work with Harry, since he is Sal's heir. You should go see the Goblins for an inheritance test,§ she added to the child. §They can give you details. All I can say is that you are his heir, and your claim was stronger than this Black Mage.§

Harry nodded. Now that he was no longer talking with Sephiroth or Esmeralda, and the danger had passed, he realized he was dying of hunger and thirst. He had already spent more time than that without eating at the Dursleys, but with all these emotions, he was exhausted.

Sephiroth's hand rested on his shoulder, making him flinch, and he looked up, meeting his concerned gaze.

"Come on, we have to get out of here. Unless you want me to carry you too?" He asked with humor.

Harry blushed, a little embarrassed. He could tell that Sephiroth was teasing him, but he was not exhausted enough to be carried! The warrior laughed softly, amused, and stood up, carrying Ginny with one arm, effortlessly. Her head was propped on his shoulder, and he checked that she was not slipping, before beckoning Harry to open the door.

The latter headed for the huge door closing the room, promising Esmeralda that he would come back to talk with her. They took the path he had traveled alone on the way out, and Harry realized that, in the end, it was not that long. The stress had given him the feeling that the tunnel was endless, whereas in the end it should not be more than 800 meters, maximum.

When they reached the bottom of the pipe/water slide, Harry wondered how he was going to make the stairs appeared. Then he saw a small snake sculpture on the wall next to it, so detailed that it seemed real. He had only to move his wand slightly, which still gave a faint glow, to have the impression that it was moving.

§Can I have stairs please?§ He hissed. §And could the pipe be cleaned as well please.§

Harry did not know if it was because he had asked for it in Parseltongue, because he was Slytherin's heir (and a better than Tom/Voldemort), or because he had asked politely, but almost instantly the pipe was cleaned perfectly and made stairs appear. He did not even ask questions, too many strange things happened lately, and he climbed onto the first step, Sephiroth just behind him.

The stairway immediately set in motion, and Harry was relieved not to have to climb up everything he had slid down. It was going a little faster than a muggle escalator, from the few times Harry had been able to accompany the Dursleys when they could not let him locked up in the cupboard or at Madame Figg's. After a while, Harry would have been unable to say how long exactly, the moving staircase left them in the girls' bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle. They had just come out, and the sink, back into place, when Myrtle came out of her cabin. She glanced at Sephiroth, and plunged sharply into the toilet pipe with a howling wail of panic that did not even wake up Ginny.

"Do I really want to know?" Harry asked tiredly.

"My legend," Sephiroth replied in a similar tone. "Now, what do we do? I would of like to have Ginny examined by a competent healer, not wanting to insult the school nurse, but I do not know what time it is."

Harry glanced at his watch, and groaned at the time. 9 o'clock in the evening, almost 10 o'clock. That meant dinner was over for a long time, and if they went to the Common Room now, EVERYONE was going to jump on them and demand answers. And what was that alarm wailing?

Just as he was thinking about it, the alarm went silent with a strangled squeak. The warrior and the child exchanged a puzzled look, then another ghost passed through the wall. Harry was used to the phenomenon, and Sephiroth just twitched. He had rarely seen spirits except for Zack and Aerith, but things had changed since his time. The little couple was at least in color, not in shades of gray. And what were these chains for?

"Good evening, Mr. Bloody Baron," said Harry timidly.

The gloomy ghost nodded in response.

"Good evening, young Harry. Hogwarts alerted me to your presence and your problem. If you would like to follow me…"

Sephiroth twitched again, but followed the movement without saying anything. It was more difficult to remain impassive before the paintings that spoke. The Lifestream had certainly offered him a certain amount of information related to the time around him, keeping it more or less up to date, but it was one thing to know about talking portraits, and another one of to see them with his own eyes.

Harry spoke shyly, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Baron, can I ask you a question? How where you called before?"

"Edmund, young Harry. However, I would prefer you to use my old name only in private."

"Okay. Baron Edmund, how did Hogwarts know we had a problem?"

The ghosts laughed amusingly, sounding rather disturbing despite his obvious amusement.

"Young Harry, for a millennium, wizards have succeeded between these walls. All, young and adults, have used magic almost daily. Is it any wonder that Hogwarts has developed her own consciousness? The stairs did not move so randomly at the very beginning. In addition, Hogwarts has always appreciated you."

More shyly, Harry replied.

"Esmeralda, Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk, said that I was his heir. Would that be why the school likes me?"

The Bloody Baron stopped short, taking Sephiroth by surprise, distracted as he was by his surroundings, and the latter passed through him, giving him the impression of passing through an icy waterfall. He immediately took a step to the side to get out of the ghost, which did not even pay attention to him, busy studying Harry. Finally, he nodded, resuming his way.

"That would explain a lot of things indeed. I knew Salazar Slytherin in my lifetime, and I must admit that you share common traits, even if you look a lot like your father. I do not think it's a good time to claim ownership of the school, though. Hogwarts would refuse to keep Professor Dumbledore. But he's the only one Riddle fears. The director is not really reliable, but with Riddle still alive... in a way, certainly, but not in the afterlife."

"So you know what's going on in the school," Sephiroth said thoughtfully.

"Yes, but we have not been listened to for a long time," sighed the lugubrious ghost. "In the past, the school had a Code of Conduct, which helped cohesion between houses, and was enforced by the school herself."

"I see ... something to consider," Sephiroth said thoughtfully.

Fortunately, there was absolutely no one in the corridors, and they quickly reached their destination, yet located on the seventh floor of the castle. The Baron led them to a particularly hideous tapestry, representing a wizard... trying to teach trolls to dance? Sephiroth stared at the tapestry with a mixture of perplexity and disgust, asking serious questions about the mental health of wizards.

The Bloody Baron turned to them.

"All you have to do is walk through the hallway three times, thinking of what you need to bring up the Room on Requirement. Probably the greatest creation of Lady Ravenclaw. It can not, however, bring up the food, but ask for a House Elf once inside, and they will bring you food. Good night."

With that, he went through the wall, leaving them alone. Harry and Sephiroth exchanged glances, then the boy shrugged, and started down the hall, thinking they needed a room where they could eat something and sleep until the morning without being disturbed.

On his third return, he heard Sephiroth whistle admiringly, and he turned around. He saw that a door had appeared in the wall, in front of the tapestry. Cautiously, he went to open it and put his head in the opening. He saw a table for three on one side, and three beds similar to those of the dormitories on the other. Opening the door wide, he let Sephiroth in, closing behind him. The latter immediately went to put Ginny on one of the beds, and took off her shoes before tucking her under the covers.

Harry watched him do it, then, timidly, feeling a little ridiculous, called into the empty air:

"Could I have a house elf please?"

*Pop*

"What can Tippy do for Master Harry Potter?" Asked a little being who looked like Dobby, but less skinny.

The latter, too tired to argue with the title, replied gently:

"Would it be possible to bring us food please? I have not eat anything since this morning, and Sephiroth I do not know since when, but at least a good millennium."

"Try rather ten thousand minimum," was the amused answer. "And I have a very high metabolism. Compared to a normal human, I consume as much as three people in a meal."

The elf squeaked in terror at the silverette, and clung to Harry's leg. Sephiroth did not seem really surprised by the reaction, but Harry suspected that he was probably hurt, even if he was used to it. So he bothered to squat in front of the terrified elf, and briefly explained Sephiroth's story. He did not really know if it had any effect, since the poor elf kept shaking like a leaf, but he would at least have tried.

The elf disappeared a few minutes later, and returned to put food on the table, leaving immediately, obviously not wanting to stay longer in the presence of the Nightmare. Harry would have been unable to tell what he had eaten, too exhausted by his emotions. Telling his story twice in a row had been hard, emotionally speaking, but somewhere it had comforted him.

Once his stomach was full, he went to the bed, and was vaguely surprised to see his pajamas lying on it. He did not even ask questions, and changed quickly, crumbling on the covers, too tired to slip underneath. He was surprised, however, to feel Sephiroth tuck him, as he had done with Ginny. He turned his head vaguely, and met the warrior's gaze. The latter passed his hand through his hair, a gesture to which he was not used, but which comforted him strangely.

"Sleep," said the silverette softly. "Don't worry, I'll watch over you."

Harry nodded slightly, and closed his eyes. The next second, he was asleep.

Sephiroth sat down on the chair, staring at the children sleeping. The first time he saw Harry, he had vaguely reminded him of a child Zack, physically speaking, much leaner. His personality, on the other hand, reminded him more of Angeal. Less focused on honor, but quite similar. He wondered if he could cook too. In any case, he could not do worse than Genesis. He chuckled, thinking about that. The redhead had been a real pyromaniac, including in the kitchen. You had to love what was burned with him. Even Sephiroth was better at cooking. After all, you just had to follow the instructions.

He sighed. He was missing his friends. He was even missing the Puppy at this point. And her too. He closed his eyes, rubbing his face to wipe his tears. Every time he thought of her, he could not help but see her body lying on the floor, dead. Shaking his head, he forced himself to think of something else.

The Dursleys would be his priority when leaving the school. With a little luck, the Goblins could help him get custody of Harry. He had serious doubts about Harry's family business, given what had happened so far in his life. Besides, how could they afford so much food? Even without spending anything on Harry, there was something fishy. Did they get something from the state? He groaned in frustration. The Lifestream had not given him much information about the current laws, he would have to do some research on it.

The night passed thus, Sephiroth planning his next moves, trying to plan for all eventualities.

Meanwhile, at Number 4 Privet Drive, the occupants shivered in their sleep, two of them even waking with a start, with the impression that someone had stepped on their grave.

oOo

The staff looked up in surprise when the alarm suddenly stopped in a strangled squeak. Even Lockhart was silent, obviously surprised, stopping in the midst of his boasting that he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was. There was an icy chill in the backs of a number of people, including Dumbledore and Snape.

The Sorting Hat chuckled.

"It seems that the danger has passed... concerning the object of black magic anyway. Albus, in your place, I'll leave the young Mr. Potter alone. I very much doubt that his... bodyguard appreciates your little tricks," he said ominously. "After, you do what you want."

Albus glared at him, but dared not say anything out loud. Too many witnesses. Fortunately, no one had grasped his hints. And he had already ordered the portraits and the Sorting Hat long ago to say nothing in the presence of other people.

He was going to have to speed up Harry's return to his uncle and aunt, if he wanted to be able to keep control of his plans.

To be continued…

The Nightmare is plotting… The Dursleys don't have any chances *evil cackle*