132: Chapter 132 Fire Stick

"If you dare to touch her, I will kill Harry first."

Tom whipped his wand toward Harry behind the stone pillar, the green light at the tip condensing once again. Harry had just been treated for his venomous wound by Fawkes, and his body had not yet recovered. He only had the Gryffindor sword at hand, while his wand was held in Tom's grip.

Allen raised his eyes. "Try it."

Tom did not hesitate.

"Avada..."

The first syllable had barely left his lips when the water at Allen's feet suddenly parted in all directions. He did not rush forward, yet his body appeared in front of Harry, as if the distance in the Chamber of Secrets had simply vanished.

The green light fired.

Harry's pupils constricted.

Allen pressed his left hand against the air. The green light paused for an instant a foot in front of his chest, then was deflected to the side and rear, grazing the stone pillar before embedding itself into the wall. A heavy vibration came from the wall, and a few stone fragments splashed into the water.

Tom's voice caught.

Harry was also stunned. "You just... blocked the Killing Curse again?"

Allen did not turn back. "Shut up."

"But that was the Killing Curse!"

"I heard you."

"How are you still standing?"

"You have too many questions."

Tom's projection let out a short laugh, which stopped halfway. He remembered this scene. Last year, the remnant soul parasitic on Quirrell had brought back fragmented perceptions. The green light had struck the boy, yet his life had not been extinguished.

But seeing it with his own eyes was harder to accept than the memories of a remnant soul.

"You can deflect the Killing Curse?"

"It doesn't need to be deflected every time."

Allen raised his wand, pointing it at the wand in Tom's hand. Space tightened around Tom's wrist. Harry's wand gave a click, as if gripped by invisible iron pincers. Tom immediately pulled the wand back and cast a Reducto spell with a backhand motion.

The spell's light had barely left the tip of the wand when it veered halfway towards the Basilisk's corpse. The Basilisk was already dead, and its scales were charred by the blast.

Tom stepped back, only to find himself back in the same spot. He realized then that no matter where he retreated, the distance beneath his feet would be pulled back to in front of Allen. Allen approached step by step.

The accumulated water on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets parted to the sides, and the shadows between the stone pillars were compressed into narrow lines. Harry's wand in Tom's hand began to malfunction; every time the tip lit up, the spells were twisted toward the stone walls, the water, or the Basilisk's corpse, but never touched Allen.

"Stupefy!" The red light veered toward the wall.

"Reducto!" The grey light exploded into the water.

"Cruci..."

Before the third spell could be finished, Allen pointed his wand downward, and the space around Tom suddenly pressed down. The boy's projection felt his knees buckle, and he was nearly forced to his knees.

Harry held onto the stone pillar, his breath hitching. He had never seen Tom so disheveled. The boy who had just moments ago controlled the Chamber of Secrets, summoned the Basilisk, and taken his wand, was now struggling to even utter a complete spell.

Tom braced himself, the boyish skin on his face beginning to crack, his voice lowering. "Do you think you can trap me with tricks like this?"

"It's enough to trap you."

"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"You are just a shadow that crawled out of an old diary."

These words carried more weight than any spell. Tom's face tightened, and the wand in his hand suddenly pointed at the Basilisk's corpse. He spoke in Parseltongue, the hissing sounds echoing through the Chamber of Secrets, filled with command and rage.

Harry immediately gripped the sword. "The Basilisk is already dead!"

Allen looked at the Basilisk's remains. The massive corpse twitched.

It was not a resurrection. Tom wanted to use Parseltongue to drive the Basilisk's residual nerves and magical reflexes, making the fangs, tail, and muscles carry out one final attack. Beside the Basilisk's head, half a fang was still embedded in the upper jaw. If the corpse were forced to move, its sheer weight alone would crush Harry and Ginny. Fawkes spread his wings, a sharp cry emanating from his throat.

Allen flipped his left hand, and five knuts slid out from his sleeve, lining up in a short row in the air.

"Void."

Within the Portable Space, the silver-eyed black snake's tail pressed down on the location of the Basilisk's remains on the map. The five knuts lit up simultaneously.

The space around the Basilisk's corpse folded into multiple thin layers. Tom's Parseltongue command, as soon as it approached, was sliced into pieces and swallowed into the layers of folded angles. The massive corpse merely shuddered once, then sank back into the water.

Tom's voice cut off.

Harry watched, bewildered. "Did you just cut the Parseltongue?"

"Commands are also fluctuations."

"You can cut Parseltongue too?"

"If I can hear it, I can block it."

Tom stared fixedly at the five knuts. "Alchemical anchor points. You are only in your second year."

"You weren't exactly a rule-follower when you were fifteen either."

Tom was silent for a moment. He understood. Allen knew too much; he not only knew about the diary and the Chamber of Secrets, but also what Tom had done while at school.

"Who told you?"

"When you were rambling."

"Nonsense."

"You pretty much stated your own weaknesses."

Harry was almost choked by these words. He recalled how Tom had just written his name in front of him, explained the diary, and recounted events from fifty years ago, and he suddenly understood why Allen had been hiding and not coming out. The other party wasn't afraid of Tom; he was waiting for Tom to say everything he could.

"So you really were listening from the side the whole time?"

"Mhm."

"I was almost bitten to death by the Basilisk!"

"You didn't die."

Harry was so angry his vision went dark. "What kind of answer is that?"

"An accurate one."

Fawkes tilted his head to look at Allen, as if he also found this person's way of speaking quite annoying.

Taking advantage of their conversation, Tom suddenly pointed his wand at Ginny. He stopped attacking Allen and Harry, aiming instead to destroy the girl being protected.

"Diffindo..."

Allen vanished from where he stood. The next moment, he was standing beside Tom, his blackthorn wand pressed against the tip of Harry's wand.

Between the two wands, space was compressed into a thin point. Tom's spell emerged from the tip, but before it could leave, it was squeezed back into the wand. Harry's wand shook violently, emitting a shrill, strained sound.

Tom's wrist was shaken until it went numb. Allen looked at him, saying each word clearly: "Don't struggle. In my space, your wand is not even as good as a firewood stick."

The Chamber of Secrets went silent for a moment.

Harry was stunned.

The anger on Tom's face congealed into cold murderous intent, which was immediately suppressed by an even deeper wariness. He wanted to retort, but the wand in his hand was locked tight by space, unable to even spark.

This insult was too direct. For Tom, the wand was power, was slaughter, and was the proof of his rise from the orphanage to the pinnacle of the magic world. Allen's words—calling it a firewood stick—were equivalent to pressing his pride into the water.

"You will regret this." Tom's voice was low and hoarse.

"The things I regret are not things you get to queue up for."

Allen turned his wrist, and Harry's wand slid out of Tom's hand, flying toward Harry. Harry instinctively reached out to catch it; only when his palm gripped the wand did he feel as if he had woken from a nightmare.

"My wand..."

"Hold it steady." Allen did not turn back. "If you drop it again, pick it up yourself."

Harry gripped the wand tightly, his ears burning. He wanted to curse back, but seeing Ginny still lying at the foot of the statue, he immediately swallowed his words.

After losing the wand, Tom's projection became even fainter. But he still stood; as long as the diary had not been destroyed, he would not vanish.

He looked at Allen and suddenly changed his tone. "Help me, and I can give you more than Dumbledore ever could. You are different from Harry; you understand power, and you understand fear. A branch of the Potter Family, a child raised in an orphanage—are you content being treated as an accessory to The Chosen One?"

Harry looked sharply at Allen.

Tom continued to press into the gaps of his words. "I can tell you the method for soul immortality. You can manipulate space; if you add the soul to that..."

Allen raised his wand. Tom's voice was cut off by space.

"You are talking too much."

"Are you afraid to hear it?"

"I find it noisy."

Allen's gaze fell back onto Ginny, or more accurately, onto the inside of her school robe, which was pressed beneath her body.

"The diary is under her. Left inside pocket."

Tom's face sank completely.