ARC constructed a mental battleground: a mind-space where Tom's parasitic Horcrux fragment could be confronted without destroying Hogwarts itself. It resembled the Chamber of Secrets, but darker—twisted by years of decay and hate.
Harry stood alone at first… until the teenage form of Tom Riddle emerged, sneering.
"So," Riddle said, circling him, "Dumbledore's puppet finally learned to think."
"No, Tom," ARC's voice echoed through the chamber. "He learned to evolve."
Riddle raised his wand. "Let's see what evolution tastes like."
The duel exploded in streams of magic—Harry's movements refined by ARC, his counter-curses exact, his spellwork near perfect. ARC auto-compensated for wand drag, wind resistance, and angle vectors mid-battle.
Then came the final blow.
Harry didn't strike with a spell.
He struck with a command.
"Execute purge protocol: Tom Riddle."
ARC surged, rewriting the corrupted magical code. Riddle screamed—not in pain, but in frustration, as his consciousness was unraveled, bit by bit, until nothing remained but data.