The 'Soul Manifestation Charm' that Grindelwald had instructed was an exceptionally advanced piece of Dark Magic.
Successfully casting this spell was no simple feat. Making a wizard's body reveal the truest essence of their soul was far more challenging than simply transfiguring them into a ferret.
The latter was merely a curse, while the former demanded a profound mastery over the very existence of life.
Of course, from the academic perspective of modern magical theory, it was simply a branch of Transfiguration.
In the gloomy Slytherin Chamber of Secrets, the young witches and wizards stood guard with keen vigilance. The Basilisk slowly coiled its massive body, raising its head to face Lockhart directly, its forked tongue flicking.
Hiss, hiss, hiss—Professor, come on!
Lockhart nodded, slowly waving his wand, meticulously performing the spell according to its most precise requirements, enunciating each syllable clearly: "Soul… Manifestation!"
A terrifying bolt of plasma erupted from the tip of his wand, arcing towards the Basilisk.
The Basilisk instinctively tried to resist and dodge the spell, but because Tom was controlling its body, it was forced to feel the tearing sensation as the magic pierced through it, its pupils constricting.
Yes, a tearing. An indescribably strange pain emanated from the depths of its soul, as if something had shattered. Its entire body felt a bizarre sensation, like its pores had stretched to their absolute limit.
It was utterly discomforting.
When its very existence was threatened in the most direct and extreme way, the Basilisk finally broke free from Tom's control, shaking off Parseltongue's suppression. It began to thrash, twisting its body, opening its mouth to reveal terrifying fangs, its eyes blood-red as it glared at Lockhart.
It was quite peculiar. Magical creatures' magic usually manifested as specific, fixed spells, but now it was showing the chaotic state akin to a young wizard's first magical outburst. Its soul surged with magic, unleashing powerful self-protective psychic forces.
Magical light pulsed like surging plasma.
The dark Chamber of Secrets was illuminated blindingly, dazzling the eyes.
Lockhart had to take a step back, holding his wand high to maintain the spell's casting, taking a deep breath, then suddenly striding forward. It was now the Basilisk's turn to writhe backward, increasing the distance.
Silver light suffused the air, and a Patronus pegasus leaped forth from it, landing a hoof squarely on the Basilisk's neck at its vulnerable seventh inch, lowering its head and neighing.
Black smoke billowed, and the malevolent werewolf floated like a shadow within it, extending a long arm to seize the Basilisk's tail, pinning it firmly in place.
But they couldn't hold the Basilisk for long.
Boom!
With a violent tremor, the Basilisk abruptly exploded, splattering outwards.
There was no gory scene of blood and flesh flying, but rather something akin to an Obscurus—magic so potent it completely dissolved the body, transforming it into a surging, sticky, gelatinous substance.
Hiss~~~~hiss~~~hiss~~~hiss~~~
A vast, ancient, peculiar serpentine hiss echoed through the air, as if transmitted from an incredibly distant, ancient past, piercing the constraints of time and space, resonating in the soul of everyone present.
Lockhart understood the sound; it was saying—Serpent! Serpent! Serpent!
Not the single word 'serpent', but 'serpent' as if encompassing all information related to snakes.
He held his wand high, maintaining the magical plasma's existence, his eyes vacant as if seeing nothing, only the reverberating call of 'Serpent'.
This was...
A magical bloodline.
A point in the universe, not a point existing within time and space. With Lockhart's current knowledge and wisdom, he could only barely categorize it as the 'serpent' element.
Meaning, there existed a magical force in this world called 'Serpent', from which all creatures, bloodlines, and magic related to 'serpent' extended.
It was a kind of 'origin' of the world.
Lockhart felt the echoing impact of this sound with astonishment, sensing a part of himself resonating and vibrating with this 'origin' due to his stolen and integrated Parseltongue ability from Voldemort.
Within this resonance, countless 'serpent' related spells burst forth in his mind.
It wasn't a direct infusion of knowledge granted by the 'serpent' origin, but rather an extension and growth based on his own knowledge, wisdom, and experiences, blooming from the resonance with the origin.
How to possess serpentine creatures, how to transform into serpentine creatures, how to extract life-energy-infused venomous milk from serpentine creatures, how to feign death within a serpent's belly, the applications of all existing serpent species in the field of Potions...
Too many thoughts, like bubbles, continuously emerged, then burst, surging and intertwining in his mind.
"So that's it!"
Lockhart was utterly amazed, murmuring, "Magical bloodlines transcend time and space in such a wondrous state..."
His previous suspicions were indeed correct!
Magical bloodlines were passed down through three means—soul, mind, and body!
The body was the easiest to understand: extending from one's parents' lineage, inherently carrying magical blood. This was the continuation of life through bloodline inheritance.
The mind's inheritance lay in knowledge, in emotion, in magic. It was a manifestation of individual wisdom resonating with the magical bloodline spanning time and space. This was the continuation of life through spiritual inheritance.
And the most peculiar was the soul: it was an independent entity, yet also a part of a collective of countless souls. Thus, it could be a blank slate, or a spiritual blankness within a grand blueprint that contained all knowledge and abilities.
And so, all the related magic Lockhart had encountered before suddenly became clear.
"I understand!"
"Hahahaha~~~"
He laughed wildly with excitement, a heartfelt joy, an ecstatic enlightenment.
Then he cut off the magical plasma, waving his wand gracefully and lightly. "Tom, so this is how that spell is meant to be used! You'll feel it properly now!"
A gentle flick of the wand.
The viscous substance floating in mid-air exploded again. Tom's soul was ejected. Before Tom could fully awaken from his confused thoughts, a Basilisk swiftly formed within the goo, lunging towards him and swallowing him whole.
"Obliviate!"
This was aimed at the Basilisk, erasing all its self-awareness and memories.
"Soul Manifestation Charm!"
The Basilisk exploded again, returning to that bursting plasma state, then collapsed and reformed again, then exploded again, then collapsed and reformed.
Each explosion was a deconstruction of Tom's inherent magical bloodline by the magic, and each collapse and reformation was a deconstruction of Tom's soul state.
Soul was soul, cognition was cognition. Though cognition influenced the soul's state, every individual soul had its most primordial state. What Lockhart was doing was stripping them apart and then re-integrating the magical bloodline.
He called the existence of life derived from the primordial soul, stripped of all externals, the 'True Self Body'.
He called the existence of life infused with magical bloodline the 'Magical Body'.
And so, fascinatingly, the forms presented by Tom and the Basilisk continuously changed through successive explosions and fusions.
From Basilisk to serpent-man, from serpent-man gradually approaching a human state.
At this point, a final push was needed.
He spun his wand in a dazzling, stylish flourish, then clenched his hand around it. "Hominem Revelio!"
A definitive strike!
Bang!
A loud pop, like the peculiar explosive sound of Apparition traversing space.
A flesh-and-blood Tom Riddle truly existed in the material reality!
Tom had been resurrected!
"Professor, I..." Tom shouted excitedly, but then suddenly realized something, looking down at his hands in terror, trembling all over. "I think I've lost my magical abilities?"
"Don't fret~" Lockhart watched him with a smile. "I want you to truly feel this. This is your 'True Self Body', the purest you. You..."
"No! No! No!" Tom shrieked furiously, interrupting Lockhart. His eyes were bloodshot with incandescent rage as he glared viciously at Lockhart. "Change me back at once! I don't want to be a filthy Muggle! I don't want to at all! What have you done to me?!"
Lockhart rolled his eyes, quite annoyed. "Do you realize how rare it is for you to be in this 'True Self Body' state? It allows you to face yourself more authentically. With that temper of yours, why is it that the moment your interests are threatened, you stop treating me as your professor? Why do you look at me as if I'm your most hated enemy?"
Tom trembled with rage. He strained every bit of his attention to feel for magic within him, yet his body felt utterly foreign; the familiar surge of magic was entirely gone.
He glared venomously at Lockhart, his eyes full of ruthlessness. "Change me back!"
Lockhart was unconcerned, looking at him with a hint of admiration. He gently waved his wand, and in an instant, Tom exploded again, turning into a scattered mass of viscous substance, then collapsed back into a human form.
As the most fundamental magical bloodlines accumulated one after another, Tom began to feel the resurgence of magical power within him, churning.
"Hah~" Tom laughed with excitement, his voice sharp and triumphant. "It's back! My magic is back!"
Lockhart nodded. "Now, feel it properly again."
Tom still wasn't listening, merely urging 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 before him was continuously 'refreshing'.
Yes, refreshing.
The technique used here was actually from The Everlasting Flame of Life, the book Voldemort had traded to Lockhart. It inexplicably fit the current situation perfectly, and Lockhart used it with natural ease.
Finally, with a hearty, unrestrained laugh, Tom's body completely solidified.
He could feel his own power, the inherent power that he should have possessed, now manifest after traversing time and space.
At this moment, he was no longer in the state of 16-year-old Tom Riddle.
Instead, he was in the state of 68-year-old Voldemort, his magical power so immense, so invigorating, that it made him feel utterly triumphant.
"I never imagined I could become so magnificent."
Tom narrowed his eyes, tilting his head back and twisting his now vibrant and remarkably flexible young body, feeling the unprecedented surge of magic within him. He couldn't have been more satisfied.
Reaching the peak of his magical power while retaining the physical perfection of his youth—what could be more wonderful?
Oh~
Actually, there was something else.
He looked down. His smooth skin gradually began to take on a greenish-black hue. Below his waist, numerous snake scales shimmered with an eerie glow.
As he gently twisted his body, the serpentine lower half writhed, every subtle muscle stretch or contraction radiating such powerful and abundant life force and magic, as if inexhaustible.
Tom paid no mind to his half-human, half-snake appearance, only revelling in the sensation of unparalleled power.
Power!
So perfect!
"Professor!" He slowly raised his head, a faint smirk playing on his handsome young face. The reflection of serpentine slit pupils overlapped in his dark eyes, making him appear exceptionally sinister. "As a reward for everything you've done for me, and to prevent my future self and Dumbledore from discovering my existence..."
He slowly raised his hand, fingers slightly spread. A powerful surge of magic rippled outwards, and Lockhart's wand instantly flew from his grasp, landing in Tom's hand.
"Expelliarmus?" Lockhart watched the move with astonishment. "Truly a divine technique!"
Tom gently caressed the wand in his hand, a look of arrogant triumph on his face. His snake tail slithered, winding around Lockhart, finally stopping directly in front of him. "There's something even more interesting. Would you like to witness it?"
Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Using the Killing Curse to release a wizard's life force, allowing them to unleash the most powerful magic they've ever possessed, and then using that power to create Horcruxes."
Tom slowly raised the wand, its tip pointing at Lockhart. "Professor, I thank you for everything you've done for me, but I cannot make the foolish mistakes of my future self. Until I have killed Voldemort and Dumbledore, I cannot allow you to leave this Slytherin Chamber of Secrets!"
Lockhart stared blankly at Tom, incredulous. "Tom, I helped you!"
"Yes, I am grateful," Tom sneered. "But that has no bearing on my decision to kill you. As Dumbledore would say, it's 'for the greater good'!"
"Tom, are you truly going to kill me?" Lockhart cried out.
"Yes, I will miss my time studying with you. It was wonderful." Tom lightly waved his wand. "Avada Kedav—"
His incantation was not yet finished when he suddenly heard an extremely peculiar snap.
Snap!
The sound of the snap seemed to pierce through time and space, echoing in his heart.
The entire Chamber of Secrets began to shake violently. Tall pillars collapsed, the Slytherin statue cracked, and cracks opened up in the floor...
Lockhart looked at him with profound disappointment, emitting a strange, serpentine hiss.
Hiss~
Tom's open mouth snapped shut abruptly, his teeth clashing loudly, nearly biting off his own tongue. His right hand involuntarily opened, holding the wand out towards Lockhart.
Tom watched this scene in horror, desperately resisting his body's actions, but he found he couldn't stop himself. His trembling arm finally straightened, presenting the wand in his palm to Lockhart.
Lockhart took the wand from his hand, scrutinizing him intently.
"What is going on?!" Tom finally regained control of his body, retreating quickly in terror with a writhing of his snake tail, staring at Lockhart in disbelief, shouting, "What is happening?!"
Lockhart shrugged. "It's quite simple. You're a Basilisk now—oh, I suppose I should call you a serpent-man—and I..."
He smirked slightly. "...and I am Parseltongue, Tom!"
"!!!"
What shocked Tom even more, however, was that everything around them began to change. In an instant, the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets transformed into an endless green meadow.
"Apparition? Where are you taking me?" Tom exclaimed, then suddenly realized something, his face changing. "No, that's not right. We're still in the same spot. Is this all fake?"
Lockhart smacked his lips, eyeing him up and down. "Tom, don't be so dramatic. It seems that despite having Voldemort's magic, your understanding is still stuck at 16 years old. You haven't gained his wisdom, have you?"
"As for us..."
He looked up at the sky, which, along with the grass, shattered again, becoming a swirling, multicoloured vortex, churning rapidly around them. "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 transformed into a viscous substance, rapidly spinning in mid-air, his thoughts erupting in flashes of electricity within it.
Faintly, from within the electrical flashes, came an aged and furious roar: "Gilderoy Lockhart! What are you doing to me?!"
"Voldemort?!" Tom's shout was filled with terror.
"Impossible! How can there be another me here?" Voldemort raged, an aged arm slowly extending from the electrical flashes, seemingly resisting some powerful force, moving incredibly, incredibly slowly. Finally, he viciously seized a smooth snake tail from within the vortex.
Lockhart said nothing, merely watched the scene with his hands behind his back, highly amused.
"Go on, old Voldy! You've grasped the tail of your youth!"
He thought for a moment, then, with a mischievous grin, pulled a wand from his ring and tossed it into the swirling vortex towards Tom, eagerly anticipating Tom and Voldemort passionately casting Killing Curses at each other. Now that would be interesting.
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