Chapter 209: Grabbed the Tail of Youth
The "Mind-Form Manifestation Charm" pointed out by Grindelwald was an extremely advanced piece of Dark magic.
It wasn't easy to cast this spell successfully. Making a wizard's body manifest the truest form of their mind was much more difficult than transforming a wizard into a ferret. The latter was merely a curse, while the former required a profound mastery of the nature of life.
Of course, from a modern magical academic perspective, it was simply Transfiguration.
The shadowy Slytherin Chamber of Secrets. His companions were on high alert, standing guard. The Basilisk slowly coiled its body, raising its head to face Lockhart, flicking its tongue.
Hiss, hiss, hiss—Professor, I'm ready!
Lockhart nodded and slowly waved his wand, following the standard requirements of the spell with deliberate clarity. "Men-tal... Mani-fes-ta-tion!"
A terrible arc of plasma erupted from the tip of his wand, shooting towards the Basilisk.
The Basilisk instinctively wanted to resist and avoid the spell, but because Tom was in control of its body, it had no choice but to clench its pupils and feel the tearing sensation of the magic piercing through its form.
Yes, a tearing. An indescribably strange pain emanated from deep within its soul, as if something had shattered. Its entire body felt a bizarre sensation, as if its pores were expanding to their absolute limit. It was an uncomfortable feeling.
With its life under the most direct and extreme threat, the Basilisk finally broke free from Tom's control and the suppression of Parseltongue. It began to writhe, twisting its body, opening its mouth to reveal terrifying fangs, its crimson eyes fixed on Lockhart.
It was a strange phenomenon. A magical creature's magic typically manifested in a specific form, but now it was entering the chaotic state of a young wizard's first magical outburst. Its soul surged with magical power, releasing a powerful self-defense mechanism.
The magical light surged like plasma.
The dark chamber was illuminated, blindingly bright.
Lockhart had to take a step back, holding his wand high to maintain the spell. He took a deep breath and then strode forward, causing the Basilisk to squirm backward, trying to create distance.
Silver light filled the air. A Patronus in the form of a Pegasus soared out, stamping its hoof on the Basilisk's neck at the seventh vertebra and letting out a loud neigh.
Black smoke billowed, and a malicious werewolf floated within it like a shadow, its long arms reaching out to grab the Basilisk's tail, pinning it firmly in place.
But they couldn't hold the Basilisk for long.
Bang!
With a violent tremor, the Basilisk suddenly exploded, splattering outwards.
There was no scene of gore or flying flesh. Instead, it was like an Obscurus, where the magical power was so immense that it completely dissolved the body, turning it into a churning, gelatinous substance.
Hiss... hiss... hiss... hiss...
A strange, ancient serpent's hiss echoed through the air, as if from an extremely distant, long-gone era. It pierced the constraints of time and space, resounding in the mind of every person present.
Lockhart understood the call. It said—Snake! Snake! Snake!
It wasn't just the singular word "snake" but the word as if it contained all the information about every snake that ever existed.
This was the magical bloodline.
A certain point in the universe, a point that didn't exist within time and space. With Lockhart's current knowledge and wisdom, he could only barely define it as the "snake" element.
This meant that a magical force existed in this world, named "snake," from which all creatures, bloodlines, and magic related to "snake" stemmed.
It was one of the world's "fundamental origins."
Lockhart was amazed by the resonance of the sound. He could feel a part of his body, stolen and merged from Voldemort's Parseltongue ability, vibrating and resonating with this "origin."
Within this resonance, countless pieces of magic related to "snakes" sprang into his mind.
This wasn't an infusion of knowledge granted by the "snake" origin but was instead an extension and growth based on his own knowledge, wisdom, and experience, all amplified by the resonance with the origin.
How to possess a snake creature, how to transform into a snake creature, how to extract a life-giving venomous "milk" from the belly of a snake, how to fake death within a snake's abdomen, the practical applications of every snake known to man in the field of Potions...
Too many ideas bubbled up like foam, then burst, churning and intertwining in his mind.
"So that's it!"
Lockhart murmured in awe. "Magical bloodlines pass through time and space in such a miraculous state—"
His previous guess was correct after all!
Magical bloodlines were passed down in three ways: soul, mind, and body!
The body was the easiest to understand. It extended from one's parents' bloodline, inherently carrying the magical bloodline. This was the continuation of life brought about by blood kinship.
The mind's inheritance was in knowledge, emotions, and magic. It was a manifestation of an individual's intellect resonating with the magical bloodline that spanned time and space. This was the continuation of life brought about by mental inheritance.
And the most miraculous was the soul. It was a single, independent entity, yet also a part of a collective of countless souls. Therefore, it could be a blank slate, or it could be a spiritual spark within the grand tapestry of all knowledge and abilities.
With this, Lockhart gained a clear understanding of all the magic he had previously encountered in this area.
"I get it now!"
"Hahahahaha~~~"
He laughed maniacally, a genuine joy, an ecstasy of enlightenment.
He cut off the magical plasma and elegantly and lightly waved his wand. "Tom, so this is how the spell is meant to be used. Now, you can truly feel it!"
With a flick of his wand, the viscous substance floating in mid-air exploded again. Tom's soul was ejected from it. Before he could fully regain his senses from the chaotic thoughts, a Basilisk quickly reformed from the gooey substance, lunging towards him, and swallowing him whole.
Obliviate!
This was aimed at the Basilisk, to erase all of its knowledge and memories.
Mind-Form Manifestation Charm!
The Basilisk exploded again, returning to that plasma-like state, then collapsed back into form. And then it exploded and collapsed again.
Each explosion was a deconstruction of Tom's own magical bloodline, and each collapse was a deconstruction of Tom's soul state.
The soul was the soul, and perception was perception. While perception influences the state of the soul, every individual has the most fundamental state of their soul. What Lockhart was doing was separating that and then re-integrating the magical bloodline.
He called the life-form created by the original soul, separated from all external influences, the "true self."
He called the life-form that merged with the magical bloodline the "magical self."
And so, interestingly, the forms of Tom and the Basilisk changed repeatedly with each explosion and reintegration.
From a Basilisk to a snake-man, from a snake-man to slowly approaching a human state.
At this point, he needed to give it one last push.
He performed a dazzling and handsome wand flourish, then gripped the wand tightly. "Hominum Revelio!"
A final pronouncement!
Bang!
A loud bang, a strange cracking sound like that of Apparition piercing through space.
A Tom Riddle of flesh and blood existed in the material world!
Tom was resurrected!
"Professor, I—" Tom yelled excitedly, but then he suddenly realized something. He looked down at his hands in horror, trembling all over. "I-I think I've lost my magical abilities?"
"Don't worry," Lockhart said with a sly smile. "I want you to really feel this. This is the 'true self.' The purest you, you—"
"No! No! No!" Tom screamed furiously, interrupting Lockhart. His eyes were bloodshot with an unhinged rage, and he glared at Lockhart with a look of pure malevolence. "You have to change me back! I don't want to be a filthy Muggle! I don't want this at all! What did you do to me?!"
Lockhart rolled his eyes, utterly unbothered. "Do you know how rare it is to be in this 'true self' state? It allows you to confront yourself more honestly. Why is it that the moment your interests are threatened, you stop seeing me as your professor? Why do you look at me as if I'm the enemy you most want to kill?"
Tom was trembling with fury. He focused all his attention on feeling the magic within him, but his body was so foreign. The familiar feeling of surging magic was completely gone.
He looked at Lockhart with a venomous and ruthless gaze. "Change me back, now!"
Lockhart was unfazed. He looked at Tom with a hint of sorrow and waved his wand lightly. In an instant, Tom exploded again, turning into a cloud of viscous material before collapsing back into a human form.
As more and more of his fundamental magical bloodline was added back, Tom began to feel the power of magic once again, surging through his body.
"Hah!" Tom laughed in thrill, his voice sharp and unrestrained. "It's back! The magic is back!"
Lockhart nodded. "Now, really feel it."
Tom didn't listen. He just urged loudly, "No, this isn't all of me! My magic can't be this weak! Change me back to my original self!"
Lockhart raised an eyebrow and waved his wand again.
And so, the Tom in front of him was continuously refreshed.
Yes, refreshed.
The method he was using was actually from the book The Unending Fire of Life that Voldemort had traded to him. It was a technique that, strangely enough, fit the current situation perfectly, and Lockhart cast it naturally and smoothly.
Finally, with a hearty, uninhibited laugh, Tom's body became completely fixed.
He could feel his power, a power he should have possessed all along, a power that transcended time and space. He was no longer the 16-year-old Tom Riddle.
He was now in the state of the 68-year-old Voldemort, his magical power so immense it felt incredibly invigorating.
"I never imagined I could feel this good."
Tom squinted, raising his head and twisting his young, vibrant, and incredibly supple body. He felt a magical energy filling him that he had never experienced before, and he couldn't have been more satisfied.
To reach the peak of his magical power while retaining the peak physical condition of his youth—what could be better than that?
Oh...
Actually, there was something better.
He looked down, his smooth skin gradually taking on a dark green hue. Below his waist, countless snake scales shimmered.
He twisted his body slightly, and his new serpentine half moved. Every subtle stretch or contraction of a muscle carried such a powerful and abundant life force and magical power, as if it were inexhaustible.
Tom didn't care at all about his half-human, half-snake appearance. He simply reveled in this unprecedented feeling of power.
Power!
So perfect!
"Professor!" He slowly raised his head, a slight smile on his handsome young face. The black pupils of his eyes now overlapped with the slit pupils of a snake, giving him an especially sinister look. "To reward you for all you've done for me, and to prevent my future self and Dumbledore from discovering my existence..."
He slowly raised his hand, his fingers slightly spread. A powerful surge of magic swept out, and the wand in Lockhart's hand instantly flew into his.
"An Expelliarmus?" Lockhart watched the move with astonishment. "A truly divine technique!"
Tom gently stroked the wand in his hand, a look of arrogant, triumphant satisfaction on his face. He glided on his snake tail, circling Lockhart, and finally stopped in front of him. "I have something even more interesting. Would you like to see it?"
Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"Using the Killing Curse to release a wizard's life force, allowing them to unleash the most powerful magic of their life, and then using that power to create a Horcrux."
Tom slowly raised his wand, pointing the tip at Lockhart. "Professor, I am grateful for everything you've done for me, but I can't make the same foolish mistakes as my future self. I can't let you leave this Slytherin Chamber of Secrets before I've killed Voldemort and Dumbledore!"
Lockhart stared at Tom, a look of disbelief on his face. "Tom, I helped you!"
"Yes, I'm very grateful." Tom sneered. "But that has nothing to do with my decision to kill you. As Dumbledore would say, it's 'for the greater good'!"
Lockhart yelled, "Tom, are you really going to kill me?"
"Yes, I will miss my time with you. It was wonderful." Tom lightly waved his wand. "Avada Ked—"
Before he could finish the spell, he heard a very strange snapping sound.
Snap!
The sound seemed to pierce through time and space, echoing in his mind.
The entire Chamber of Secrets began to shake violently. The tall pillars collapsed, the statue of Slytherin cracked, and fissures opened in the floor. Lockhart looked at him with a disappointed expression and let out a strange snake hiss.
Hiss—
Tom's open mouth snapped shut, his teeth clacking together so hard he almost bit his own tongue off. His right hand involuntarily opened, holding the wand out to Lockhart.
Tom watched in horror, fighting his body's actions, but he couldn't stop himself. His trembling arm straightened, offering the wand on his palm to Lockhart.
Lockhart took the wand from his hand and looked at him with an appraising expression.
"What is this?!?!?!" Tom finally regained control of his body. He twisted his snake tail and rapidly retreated, staring at Lockhart in terror. "What in the world is happening?!"
Lockhart shrugged. "It's simple, really. Right now, you are the Basilisk—or rather, a snake-man. And I—"
The corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile. "And I am a Parselmouth, Tom!"
"!!!"
But what shocked Tom even more was that everything around them began to change. The Slytherin Chamber of Secrets instantly transformed into a vast, endless green grassland.
"Apparition? Where are you taking me?" Tom exclaimed, but then he suddenly realized something and his face paled. "No, that's not right. We're still in the same spot. All this... is fake?"
Lockhart smacked his lips, sizing him up. "Tom, don't get so flustered. It seems that besides having Voldemort's magic, your cognitive level is still stuck at sixteen. You didn't get his wisdom?"
"As for us—"
He looked up at the sky, which, along with the grassland, began to break apart, turning into a swirling vortex of colors. Everything around them was churning rapidly. "My magical experiment isn't over yet, Tom. Of course, we're still in the river of time."
Bang!
Everything collapsed and disintegrated.
Tom once again turned into a viscous substance, rapidly spinning in mid-air. Bolts of electricity flashed within it, a manifestation of his mind.
Faintly, an ancient and angry roar came from within the electricity. "Gilderoy Lockhart! What are you doing to me?!?!?!"
"Voldemort?!?!?!" Tom's voice was filled with terror.
"Impossible. How is there another me here?" Voldemort roared in fury. An old, gnarled hand slowly emerged from the electricity, seeming to resist some powerful force. Its movements were incredibly slow, but it ultimately reached out from the vortex and grabbed a smooth serpentine tail.
Lockhart didn't say anything. He simply stood with his hands behind his back, watching the scene with great interest.
Go, old Voldy! You've grabbed the tail of your youth!
He thought for a moment and, with a mischievous grin, took a wand out of his ring and threw it into the vortex for Tom, eagerly anticipating the young Tom and the old Voldemort enthusiastically flinging Killing Curses at each other. Now that would be a sight to see.
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