16 March 1993, Hogwarts
Harry watched his opponent's expressions turn from incredulous at the sight of the boy who lived succeeding at killing a beast that literally wiped out entire teams of professional beast hunters, to a slight look of awe at the power that fate had to make that happen.
Of course, that awe was very short-lived, and quickly transformed into rage, which was smothered into cold calculation. It was fascinating seeing all range of emotion on Riddle's face.
The boy who lived pointed his sword at them, something that didn't make sense since he was too far away to be an actual threat, "Harry, what's going on?"
"This is Tom Riddle, the heir of Slytherin," Harry responded.
"Any why are you playing chess with him?"
"You have your battle and I have mine. Good work with the Basilisk, by the way. I'm impressed."
The young Gryffindor grinned, "The goggles and the bombs worked. I wouldn't do it again, but I guess that's the monster of Slytherin dead. But why aren't you fighting this Riddle person?"
"It's a little complicated. Your friend here didn't help things," Harry answered while pointing his head at Hermione Granger's body.
Then, Neville literally threw his sword away the moment he saw his best friend's corpse. He ran towards her, yelling, "HERMIONE!"
It took a few seconds for the Longbottom scion to realize that she wasn't breathing, "She's dead, isn't she? What did you do?"
Riddle was the one who answered, "I didn't do anything. This was Hermione's choice. You see, while I was the voice, the heir of Slytherin, I'm barely more than a memory. You see, Hermione Granger opened the Chamber of Secrets, she's the one who petrified other students. I was just the tool she chose to do so."
The boy froze for a second, "Hermione did what?"
"Yes. I'm just a memory, an idea more like, one that Hermione would have ignored if she didn't think it was good. You know your best friend do you think that anyone could have made her do anything? Stubborn as an ox, this one."
Neville snorted, "She's stubborn. What happened to her?"
"It's a side effect of her plan but believe me that she's still alive. This is temporary. You see, Neville, your friend is a hero, one that saved the world. You know she's a good person. Petrifying a few people isn't a big deal, it's temporary, especially compared to what her goal is."
Harry just stood there, transfixed as he saw Neville listen to Riddle's lies. It was a curious thing, the way the older boy could spread his web of lies. The passion in his voice, the sincerity in every word that he spoke made him sound so reasonable, like a coiling snake slowly constricting himself around his victim, suffocating them without them even realizing.
"And what was her goal," Neville asked.
"Why, peace of course. We devised a ritual, together, to create peace, to save the world from future Death Eaters, not by sending them to prison, but by having them sympathize with muggleborns. They will experience an illusion so powerful that they will think that they have lived another life as a muggleborn. They will experience the bigotry that they spout and will finally understand the consequences of what they're doing. Muggleborns will also experience the opposite, a life in wizarding families, experiencing the traditions and culture of the magical world. Imagine an entire generation that thrives in understanding and peace. They will teach the same to their children, and their children's children, until the entirety of Magical Britain will be at peace, a true utopia of magic. Isn't that a worthy goal, Neville?"
The boy's eyes were glazed, "Yeah, that sounds amazing. Why did she petrify all those people, though?"
"Time. The ritual needs time, and to offset that, we stole it from the victims, just a few months from a few students. That's what the petrifications really are, people frozen in time, harnessed for the ritual, for the greatest illusion that ever existed, that will ever exist. If you noticed, we picked the victims at random. Squibs, muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods, we did not discriminate. That's what the ritual needs to work properly. We used the whole thing about the heir of Slytherin to act as a story, to make people not think too much about the petrification, so that no one would ever understand what we tried to achieve so that no one would try to stop us. No one figured it out, but him," the older Slytherin pointed at Harry, "He's trying to stop us. Our glorious purpose, our chances of having a utopia."
"What about Hermione, why is she dead?"
"Oh, come on, Neville. You know deep in your heart that this isn't true. She isn't dead. Do you honestly just believe what's just in front of you? I expected more…"
The boy started to look defensive, "Why should I believe you?"
.....
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