Chapter 192. Hungry Hungry Hungry Hungry Hungry Hungry
The two of them appeared at the same time.
Their surroundings had changed from a dark, damp basement into a wide expanse of open meadow.
The night wind skimmed over the grass with a soft rustle. Not far away, a massive oak tree glowed with a faint green light, stark against the pitch-black night.
Tom looked around and, when he saw the Tree of Wisdom, his heart sank.
He still remembered the scene when Adrian Wesson had purified the notebook—the inexplicable tree had left him utterly unable to resist.
Fortunately, when he was expelled that time, he had strained with all his might to preserve a portion of his power, and thus did not vanish on the spot.
But now, faced with this tree, he was still at a loss.
Perhaps the Killing Curse would work?
But the only wand he had at the moment had already been taken by Devil's Snare.
While Tom was considering his options, Adrian tossed the Purification Potion into the air; the vial exploded immediately above Tom's head.
"Wait! We can talk."
Tom spoke in a rush, as if trying to struggle a bit longer, but it was already too late.
Golden liquid fell like fine rain upon him.
Tom let out a scream not quite human; his body convulsed violently as thick, black vapour surged madly from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
The vapour condensed in the air and finally took the form of a boy of sixteen or seventeen.
Black-haired, handsome, yet carrying a chilling, unpleasant coldness.
It was Tom Riddle as a student. He hovered in mid-air, his face contorted with fury.
"You've no idea what you're doing!" young Riddle rasped. "I can give you power, give you immortality—"
Still just a young man, Adrian shook his head.
This youth obsessed with immortality always assumed others craved it as he did.
But to Adrian now, immortality held no allure.
Perhaps, when he was Dumbledore's age, he might consider the question.
Even so, if he ever did seek immortality, it would not be through Horcruxes—half-baked things at best.
By his reckoning, the Elixir of Life was far preferable to Horcruxes.
At least it wouldn't damage one's soul.
Seeing that Adrian remained unmoved, Tom knew his chances were slim. He swept off toward the distance, trying to escape.
But without any reminder from Adrian, the deadly green light had already lanced out from the Tree of Wisdom.
Under that green radiance, Tom shrieked in agony as his form began to disintegrate.
At last, the green light faded, and Tom's figure vanished into the air.
[Purification is complete, sir.]
The voice of the Tree of Wisdom sounded in his mind, and Adrian gave a slight nod.
"Farewell, Tom," he said softly. "Do try to stay dead this time."
Then he waved toward the distant Tree of Wisdom, and the Tree immediately understood his intent.
[Name: Eldra (Tree of Wisdom)]
[Type: Oak]
[Level: 5]
[Traits: Object Analysis, Soul Link, Purify Soul, Energy Amplification, Ravenclaw's Wisdom]
[Status: Growing (99.9%)]
Seeing the Tree of Wisdom's status, Adrian knew it was a hair's breadth from advancing again.
After checking, Adrian turned his gaze back to Gilderoy Lockhart.
Lockhart was lying limp on the ground.
Adrian crouched and lightly pressed two fingers to Lockhart's carotid artery.
A faint pulse still beat—he was alive for the moment.
However, Lockhart was already unrecognisable—his skin loose and furrowed with wrinkles, his once splendid golden hair now grey-white like dried straw.
Clearly, Lord Voldemort had already drained his life force to the dregs; most likely, he had been using magic to maintain a youthful appearance.
"Mm… at least he's breathing."
Adrian muttered, took a small vial of emerald-green potion from his robes, prised open Lockhart's mouth, and poured it in.
Almost at once, Lockhart's breathing grew steadier, but his aged features did not improve in the least.
That's that—no saving him. Adrian shook his head in regret.
Such is the price of scorning the Dark Lord.
Lockhart had paid dearly for his arrogance.
Adrian hadn't even needed to lift a finger.
While Adrian was laboriously (not really) dealing with Lockhart and Tom, Harry and Ron were sprawled over the bunks in their dormitory, playing wizard chess out of sheer boredom.
It was their daily routine.
Just as Ron was about to win, Harry suddenly stopped.
"Harry, your move," Ron tapped the board impatiently, urging him on. "My knight's driven your bishop into a corner!"
But Harry was staring blankly out the window, his knight hovering in mid-air. "Ron, something's wrong."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it, you just don't want to lose—wait!"
His eyes flew wide. "You didn't hear that voice again, did you?"
Harry nodded.
Yes, he had heard that hoarse, sullen voice again.
Only…
"Hun… gry…"
"Hungry…"
"Hungry hungry…"
"Hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry…"
Why does it keep shouting that it's hungry?
Nervous as he was, Harry was also baffled—just how long had the basilisk been starving?
Forget it—no time to think.
Since the basilisk's voice had returned, it meant he had to act at once.
"What do we do?" Ron asked uneasily. "Same as before—go tell a professor?"
"Come on, let's find Professor Wesson!" Harry threw his piece back onto the board and scrambled down from the bunk; the wizard chess pieces clattered over in a heap.
Ron hastily reset the pieces, then followed Harry out of the dormitory.
They made little noise and didn't disturb their roommates.
The corridors at night were quiet as ever.
But Harry couldn't calm down—the basilisk's repeated "hungry" kept jangling his nerves.
Ron felt uneasy as well, though for a different reason.
It seemed… something was missing from tonight's escapade.
Halfway along, he stopped short, suddenly realising, "Hang on—Hermione's not with us tonight!"
Harry was momentarily at a loss.
"Right," he said under his breath. "Hermione's in the girls' dormitory—of course she isn't with us."
"All right, my mistake."
Ron scratched the back of his head.
To be honest, without Hermione around, he always felt a bit less safe.
"Oh—almost forgot."
Harry suddenly remembered something and shoved an item into Ron's hand.
"What's this?"
Ron felt a small, square token in his palm.
"The professor's amulet," Harry whispered. "If you're unlucky enough to look straight into the basilisk's eyes, this will save your life."
At that, Ron hurriedly tucked the amulet inside his robes.
In his mind, Professor Wesson had always been reliable. Anything he made would definitely work.
He felt much calmer at once.
A few minutes later, the two of them knocked on the door of Professor Wesson's office.
Unfortunately, there was still no response.
Harry had expected as much—whenever they came looking for Wesson at night, they never succeeded.
"What now?" Ron whispered. "Professor Wesson's not in—should we go find Professor McGonagall instead? I've got a feeling she'll take points this time."
"Forget the points," Harry said.
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