The corrupted code in Hogwarts' magical core grew restless. As ARC mapped deeper layers, the echoes of Tom Riddle's consciousness became more erratic—like a virus trying to mutate under scrutiny.
"He knows we're here, Harry. He's defending himself."
Inside the obsidian Room of Origin, runes glitched. Sections of the room flickered, bleeding shadows. Sometimes, Harry swore he saw eyes watching from the walls.
"If we want to remove the Horcrux, we must isolate it first. This won't be a spell—it will be a digital duel. Magical code versus magical code. Your mind versus his."
Harry clenched his fist. "Let's end this."