The warm glow of the fireplace in Sirius's room cast flickering shadows on the walls as the boy climbed into bed, his curls tousled from a quick wash. Harry tucked the blankets around him, a small smile tugging at his lips as Sirius wiggled to get comfortable.
"Okay, Sirius. Time for sleep," Harry said, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Sirius shook his head, his grey eyes sparkling with determination. "Not yet. You promised me a story."
"I don't remember promising anything," Harry teased.
"You didn't say no," Sirius countered with a cheeky grin.
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine. What kind of story do you want?"
"Another creature story. Something you've faced," Sirius said immediately, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "Something dangerous!"
Harry hesitated, glancing toward the doorway where Tom had just entered. The man settled into a chair by the bed, his movements deliberate, and his sharp gaze fixed on Harry.
"A creature story?" Tom echoed, his voice smooth and calm. "That sounds intriguing. I'm curious myself, Mr. Potter."
Harry's stomach sank. It was one thing to tell Sirius a sanitized version of his adventures, but having Tom there made it feel like a test. Still, Sirius's eager expression was impossible to resist, and Harry found himself nodding.
"All right," he said, leaning back slightly. "Have you ever heard of a basilisk?"
Sirius's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "What's that?"
Harry conjured a small illusion in the air—a massive serpent with gleaming scales and glowing yellow eyes. "A basilisk is a giant snake. Its fangs are venomous, and one look from its eyes can kill you instantly."
Sirius's eyes widened in awe. "You fought one of those?"
"I did," Harry said softly, his tone serious now. "I was twelve years old."
Sirius gasped, sitting up straighter in bed. Even Tom's posture stiffened slightly, though his expression remained unreadable.
"What happened?" Sirius urged, his voice a whisper.
Harry's gaze turned distant as he began to recount the story. "There was a place at school—a secret chamber hidden for centuries. No one knew how to open it, but one day, the door was unlocked. Terrible things started happening. People were being petrified—not killed, but frozen like statues. Everyone was scared, and no one knew who or what was behind it."
Sirius clutched his blankets, his grey eyes wide. "What did you do?"
"I found the entrance to the chamber," Harry said. "Only someone who could speak to snakes could enter, and I had that ability. Anyway, it was deep underground, dark and cold, with walls covered in slime. When I reached the main chamber, I saw the basilisk for the first time."
The illusion shifted, showing the massive serpent slithering through a cavernous space, its yellow eyes glowing ominously. Sirius's breath hitched, and even Tom's sharp gaze flickered with interest.
"It was huge," Harry continued, his voice steady. "The biggest snake I'd ever seen. Its scales were harder than steel, and its fangs were as long as swords. I had a sword with me—an old, magical one—but it wasn't enough. I couldn't even look it in the eyes. One wrong glance, and I'd be dead."
"How did you fight it, then?" Sirius whispered.
"I had help," Harry admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. "A phoenix—beautiful bird, red and gold—swooped in and blinded it. Without its eyes, the basilisk couldn't kill me with its stare. But it was still dangerous. Its fangs were sharp, and it was fast. Too fast."
Sirius gasped, clutching his blankets tighter. "Did it bite you?"
Harry nodded, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a faint, jagged scar on his forearm. "It did. The venom was burning through me, and I thought I wouldn't make it. But the phoenix saved me again. Its tears have healing powers, and they neutralized the venom just in time."
Sirius's mouth hung open in awe. "That's incredible. You're a hero, Harry!"
Harry chuckled softly, ruffling the boy's curls. "Not a hero. Just lucky."
Tom's voice cut through the moment, smooth and quiet. "Luck rarely spares the foolish, Mr. Potter. You must have been resourceful to survive such an encounter."
Harry turned to meet Tom's gaze, his green eyes steady. "I had to be. There were people counting on me."
Tom studied him for a long moment before nodding slightly. "And the basilisk? What became of it?"
"I… killed it," Harry said, his voice soft. "With the sword I had. It wasn't easy, but I didn't have a choice."
Sirius's expression was a mix of awe and concern. "You're really brave, Harry."
Harry shook his head, offering the boy a small smile. "Not brave. Just determined."
"Were you... scared?"
"I was terrified. But a girl depended on me."
The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of the story settling over them. Sirius yawned, his small body finally succumbing to exhaustion.
"Goodnight, Harry," he murmured sleepily, his grey eyes fluttering closed.
Harry tucked the blankets around him and stood, dimming the lights with a wave of his hand. He stepped out and heard Tom's measured footsteps following close behind. He hadn't expected the man to stay so long in Sirius's room, much less show interest in his story.
"Interesting tale," Tom said smoothly, his voice carrying easily in the quiet space.
Harry turned slightly, his expression guarded. "Sirius seemed to enjoy it."
Tom's lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. "I imagine he did. A story of bravery, danger, and triumph—what boy wouldn't? But I find myself more curious about the details, Mr. Potter."
Harry frowned, his hand brushing along the banister as they descended the staircase together. "What kind of details?"
Tom's gaze flicked to him, piercing even in the low light. "Why would a twelve-year-old student be the one to face such a creature? Surely a professor or an adult would have been better equipped to handle the situation."
Harry hesitated, his mind racing for an answer that wouldn't reveal too much. "The chamber wasn't accessible to just anyone," he said carefully. "It required a specific… skill set to open the door."
Tom raised an eyebrow, his steps unhurried as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "And you possessed this skill set? At twelve?"
Harry's jaw tightened. "I was the only one who did. If someone else could've done it, believe me, I would've let them."
Tom stopped, his hand resting lightly on the back of a nearby chair. "And what was this skill, exactly?"
Harry hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to shut down the conversation. But something in Tom's steady gaze made him falter. He exhaled slowly, his voice quiet but firm. "I could speak Parseltongue—the language of snakes."
Tom's eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his composed demeanor. "It must have been a rare gift from where you come from, then?"
Harry bristled, his green eyes narrowing. "It's not something I asked for. It's just a part of who I am."
"Fascinating," Tom said softly, his gaze unreadable. "And how did you come by this talent?"
Harry stiffened, suddenly wary. "I don't know. It's not like anyone else in my family spoke it."
Tom tilted his head slightly, studying Harry as though he were a particularly intriguing puzzle. "An anomaly, then. Rare gifts often are."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Look, it's not something I like talking about. It's just… part of the story."
Tom's lips curved into a faint smile, but his gaze remained sharp. "Understood, Mr. Potter. Though it seems to me that your stories often reveal more about you than you intend."
Harry clenched his jaw, forcing himself to meet Tom's gaze. "I'm not trying to hide anything."
"No," Tom said softly, his smile sharpening. "I suppose you aren't."
The weight of the words hung between them, heavy and unspoken. Harry felt exposed in a way he couldn't quite explain, as though Tom had peeled back a layer he hadn't meant to reveal.
"I should go," Harry said abruptly, stepping toward the door.
Tom inclined his head, his expression calm but watchful. "Of course. Rest well, Mr. Potter. Tomorrow promises to be… illuminating."
Harry didn't respond, slipping out into the night air with his thoughts churning. Tom's questions had been probing, deliberate, and far too perceptive for Harry's comfort. As he walked back to the orphanage, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd given away more than he intended—and that Tom Riddle wasn't done with his curiosity just yet.
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