Death did not come with pain.
It came with momentum.
One moment, Zaila Forbes was crossing a street with her phone in her hand, rereading yet another Tom Riddle fanfic she swore she was only analyzing for plot inconsistencies—and the next there was white, roaring impact, and the unmistakable narrative certainty of—
'Oh. This is Truck-kun.'
She did not scream.
She barely had time to think 'wow, how cliché' before the world folded in on itself.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
The voice arrived without sound, without vibration—inside her bones.
[Survive v.∞ Activated
Core Function: Sustain Host Life Across Hostile Narrative Worlds
Energy Source: Multiversal World-Lattice
Restriction Protocol: Rewards limited to Authorized Fandom Universes]
Light bloomed behind her eyes.
Data followed.
[AUTHORIZED SOURCE WORLDS:
> Labyrinth
> Legendarium of Tolkien*m
> My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
> Star Wars (All Eras)
> Bee & Puppycat
> Doctor Who (All Incarnations)]
[NOTICE:
• All abilities integrate permanently into Host physiology
• Items stored in System Inventory
• Removal or deactivation of abilities is impossible
• Survival is mandatory]
Zaila tried to move.
She couldn't.
Her body felt… present, but distant. Like she was aware of it the way one was aware of a heartbeat—not something you controlled, just something that was.
[IDENTITY ESTABLISHED:
Name: Zaila Forbes
Age: 16
Status: Isekai Transfer — Canon-Aware
World: Harry Potter
Era: Tom Marvolo Riddle (Hogwarts Entry Imminent)]
Her breath caught—except it didn't.
She wasn't breathing.
Panic flared, sharp and animal.
'I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm—'
[Correction: Host is alive
Condition: Narrative Stasis
Location: Secured]
The darkness thinned.
Zaila was allowed to see, like she had a birdseye view of where she laid.
She lay within a glass coffin, hands folded over her chest, dressed not in hospital clothes or modern fabric but in something pale and flowing, woven with runes that shifted when she tried to focus on them.
Her heart hammered as she viewed the room she was in.
'This is the Chamber of Secrets.'
The realization came with horrifying certainty.
[WARNING: BASILISK DETECTED
STATUS: Guardian — Non-Hostile]
Something massive breathed on top of the glass coffin and she could just make out the huge coils of the basilisk.
She wanted to scream.
Her lips did not move.
[STASIS CONDITION:
• Host cannot wake via standard means
• Host cannot move
• Host cannot age
• Host cannot die (unless conditions violated)]
Cold dread pooled in her stomach.
[AWAKENING CONDITION:
Soulmate Contact — Physical (Kiss)
Soulmate Identity: Tom Marvolo Riddle]
Her mind went blank.
Then—
'WHAT!'
"No," she tried to say.
Nothing came out.
Her thoughts raced, spiraling wildly.
'Tom Riddle. Voldemort. Diary Tom. Snake boy. Murder wizard. Hot in fanart, yes, but—'
The System did not react.
Instead, a new window unfolded, softer in tone.
[SUPPLEMENTAL PROTOCOL:
Soulbond Communication Enabled
Medium: Dreamspace
Frequency: Nightly
Range: Absolute]
[NOTICE:
> Host may accept missions
> Host may earn System Credits
> Host may acquire abilities/items
> All integrations occur immediately]
Zaila stared at the ceiling of stone, heart pounding in a body that could not move, could not wake.
'So,' she thought faintly, hysteria curling at the edges of her mind.
'I'm Snow White. In Voldemort's basement.'
Silence followed.
Then—something else.
A presence.
Distant. Young. Curious.
A boy's mind brushing against hers like the first touch of a dream not yet remembered.
Somewhere above her, in a castle that had not yet learned to fear him, an eleven-year-old boy slept—and dreamed of a girl he had never met.
And Zaila understood, with sudden terrifying clarity:
If she wanted to survive
If she wanted power
If she wanted choice
Then until he found her—
Tom Riddle was the only way she could live.