This underground cavern was not completely lightless. A faint glow still made it possible to see about ten meters ahead.
Everything that had just happened was actually Voldemort's doing, mainly to keep the Basilisk from accidentally making eye contact with the half-used pawn and hostage before he was finished with them.
The darkness writhed through the air like something alive, and Harry watched it surge toward the end of the stone path.
Voldemort stood where the darkness was gathering. By constantly devouring souls, he had recovered even more power and was now close to fully reviving.
The jack-o'-lantern that had once sealed him lay shattered all over the floor. On the broken pieces of pumpkin, the silver patterns embedded in the rind were still visible, though now so dim they were almost gone.
Ron Weasley, whom he had been using as a tool, had been thrown off to one side along with the hostage Hermione.
Hermione's eyes were tightly shut, as though she had fainted. Beside her lay the unconscious Ron Weasley. His face was waxy pale, and his complexion was getting worse by the second, as if he might die at any moment.
With so much of his soul already devoured, he had one foot over the edge of hell and could fall into the abyss at any time.
But Harry had no energy to spare for either of them. Clutching his forehead, he felt the pain from his scar spreading into his brain, as though a red-hot branding iron were being forced into the wound.
"Harry Potter..." A strange voice rang out, drawing Harry's attention.
"Who are you?" Harry asked through the pain.
Voldemort stared blankly at Harry Potter, who was still walking toward him.
Why was this idiot not dead yet? There was a gigantic Basilisk behind him staring right at him, so how could he possibly not see it?
He had deliberately called Harry Potter's name to make him notice the Basilisk behind him, so they would make eye contact and trigger its instant-death effect.
If Harry had panicked and run in terror, or simply dropped dead on the spot, Voldemort would have found that perfectly normal.
But this calm, casual stroll toward him was going too far.
Voldemort instinctively wanted to turn around and check whether the Basilisk was still behind him, but his reason stopped him just in time.
He could control the Basilisk, but he was not immune to its instant-death gaze. The creature did not care whether you were its master. If it killed, it killed.
But then why was this boy unaffected? Surely he could not be immune to, or worse, able to reflect even the Basilisk's deadly stare?
Voldemort glowered at Harry, frustrated, and quickly realized what the problem was.
Harry was obviously out of it. With those hazy eyes, forget the Basilisk's eyes, he probably could not even see the Basilisk itself.
Just then, Hermione, who had been lying there with her eyes shut as though unconscious, suddenly shouted, "Run, Harry! Don't turn around. It's a Basilisk!"
A Basilisk? What was that supposed to be?
Harry froze for a moment. His knowledge was nowhere near Hermione's, so he did not really know what a Basilisk could do.
But he was very good at taking advice. The moment he heard Hermione's warning, he instinctively turned away.
"I didn't expect a Mudblood like you to be this clever." Voldemort glanced at Hermione, who still kept her eyes tightly shut, and let out a cold laugh. Then he opened his mouth and hissed again. "Kill him. Don't let him die too easily."
Run? Where was he supposed to run? With a Basilisk hunting him, there was nowhere to escape.
As for fighting back, what a joke. Even a fully grown wizard would struggle to cast against a Basilisk, because the moment you aimed carelessly, you might meet its eyes and die on the spot.
Harry Potter was only a second-year wizard. What exactly gave him the right?
With the order given, the Basilisk immediately slithered out from behind Voldemort and moved toward Harry.
That unnerving scraping sound rang out again. Even in his dazed state, Harry could feel the murderous intent crawling over his skin.
Harry stumbled in the opposite direction. The exit was not too far away. Maybe he still had a chance to make it.
"Hmph..." Seeing Harry try to flee, Voldemort let out a scornful snort. In his eyes, Harry Potter, the one who had once caused the original body's miserable death, was doomed today.
Still, he did not mind savoring the look of despair on his face.
"If you run away, your friends are dead."
Voldemort's cruel voice echoed through the Chamber and reached Harry's ears, making him stop short. A look of struggle crossed his face.
"Don't listen to him! Run, Harry! If you stay, we'll all die! Go find Headmaster Dumbledore!" Hermione shouted, only for Voldemort to wave a hand and cover her mouth with shadow, reducing her to muffled cries.
"Hermione?" Hermione's sudden silence worried Harry so much that he forgot all about his own danger.
Then came the sound of something cutting through the air. Out of the darkness, a huge serpent tail lashed over and slammed into Harry's back.
The force nearly folded him in half. He heard the crack of bones in his back, and his body flew through the air like a rag.
Harry collapsed to the ground, pain tearing through every inch of him. He tried to get up, but his lower body seemed to have gone numb.
"And you still dare lose focus at a time like this. I think you really don't understand the situation." Voldemort walked slowly toward Harry. He could already tell that Harry had lost the ability to move. That made it much easier to torture him properly.
Harry lay on the ground, agony gnawing at his nerves.
He heard footsteps behind him. As they drew closer, despair filled him more and more. It felt as though his life might really end here today.
In his dazed state, he almost thought he was hallucinating. The footsteps that had been coming from behind now seemed to be coming from all around him, and he even thought he heard footsteps ahead.
"Who's there?" Voldemort's voice snapped Harry back to reality.
Someone had come? Who could it be?
Harry struggled to lift his head and looked forward, where he saw a pair of shoes that seemed oddly familiar.
"Leonard?" Harry called out.
"Mm." Leonard's voice sounded through the Chamber.
"Leonard, be careful. Hermione said that guy has a Basilisk with him. She told me not to turn around." The arrival of dependable Leonard made Harry breathe a little easier, and he hurried to pass on everything he knew.
"Oh, got it." Leonard glanced at Harry sprawled on the ground, his gaze lingering briefly on the slightly twisted shape of his waist.
It looked frightening, but for a wizard, this was only a minor injury. A little dittany would restore him immediately.
What Leonard was more curious about now was why Harry Potter had shown up here in the first place. He really was the protagonist. Even with the plot already twisted this far off course, he had still managed to show up and get involved.
The fact that he had not died yet was pure luck.