"Children of the Broken Sky"
"If I must say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed." The wraith from the diary spoken to Harry in a soft voice, but the sheer malevolence of his words belied that. "So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted . . . I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than even little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start feeding a little of my soul back into her."
The words of the schoolboy who would one day become Voldemort haunted Harry as he pressed his back against a pillar in the Chamber of Secrets deep below Hogwarts. He could hear the sound of Slytherin's basilisk, the sandpaper-like whisper of scales across the dusty floor. A brief memory something absolutely massive hitting the floor of the chamber as the shade of Voldemort called the creature forth taunted him.
"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her . . . She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last . . . I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come."
A tear trickled down Harry's cheek as he pressed his back a little tighter against the pillar.
"How is it that you - a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent - managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time.How did you escape with nothing but a scar while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed . . ."
"You're not, you know," Harry remembered himself saying after more of Riddle's posturing, wishing that somehow he could be brave. What Harry had found himself doing was pretending to be brave while the fear he was feeling twisted up his insides like a serpent. He had found himself simply pretending and forced the actions out of himself that he would have wished for.
The wraith of Riddle had snapped at him, "Not what?" Riddle's temper was hanging on by a very thin thread.
"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," Harry had boldly spit out, surprised in the moment at his own brashness but oddly proud of himself as well. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school . . . and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days . . ."
The smile was gone from Riddle's face. What replaced it was a look of such sheer malevolence that Harry was near taken aback. "Dumbledore's been driven out of the castle by the mere memory of me."
"He's not as gone as you might think," Harry had responded. He felt his courage returning to him. Something in his heart leapt. In the middle of him he felt something blazing with undying clarity. Joy. The same kind of joy had felt when he had felt when had first seen Ginny on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. She wasn't awake, and he hadn't known what was wrong with her at the time, but he had found her and she was still alive.
A joyful cry split the air, not from Harry, but from Dumbledore's phoenix as it swept into the chamber like a breath of fresh air into someplace where the atmosphere had grew fetid and stale. As the phoenix swept over his head an old wrinkled cap fell into Harry's hands.
Riddle scoffed as the phoenix, Fawkes, settled onto Harry's shoulder. "So this is what Dumbledore sends his loyal defender, a songbird and an old hat. Do you feel brave, Harry Potter . . .
The shade smiled, but it was far from a pleasant sight. "Now Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him . . . Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!!"
Harry had retreated then as, once again, Slytherin's basilisk was awakened from it's slumber. Not run away, but fallen back into the further reaches of the chamber as Fawkes swept from his shoulder and up into the air.
"Kill him!"
And that's where Harry found himself now, a small twelve year old boy, his back pressed against cold stone of one of the many pillars that held up the ceiling of the ancient chamber, hiding from the ancient serpent that was hunting him. His hands were wrapped around the hilt of a sword that he had somehow managed to wrest out of the old sorting hat.
And suddenly Harry knew the basilisk was close, a heaviness in the air, the warm stink of its breath. The sheer presence of it, like the ancient magic that surrounded it, wrapping it in an aura of . . .
Harry was tense. He silently lifted the sword and let his eyes slip closed. Whatever he was going to do he was going to have to do blind. If the magic in the basilisk's gaze managed to petrify him it would all be done for. He would simply have to have faith, faith that when he chose his moment to strike he would strike true.
For Ginny.
Fawkes battle cry split the air as the mighty bird swept down from above. Moments later the air was filled with a pained hiss and something heavy slammed into the pillar directly behind Harry, splitting the ancient stonework and forcing Harry out from cover. Harry, blind, and now in the open, was forced to open his eyes if only briefly just to orient himself. What he saw amazed him. The enormous snake, thick as an oak tree, head raised up high in the air, was thrashing about. The tail slammed against the pillar Harry had been hiding behind with a deafening bang. Ancient stone, jarred loose, fell from the ceiling an exploded to one side. Right at the moment Harry remembered that he needed to close his eyes again he saw the fangs in its gaping mouth, fangs as long as swords. He saw Fawkes, the air heavy with her battle-cry, flapping about the basilisk's face as blood ran down.
It was then that Harry looked directly into the basilisk's eyes . . . or that is to say what was left of them. Where once there were eyes there were now great gaping holes in the creature's skull, dripping blood.
"No," Harry heard Riddle yell out, though Harry only had eyes for the enormous basilisk that loomed high over him. "Leave the bird!! Leave the bird!! The boy is behind you!! You can still smell him!! Kill him!!"
The snake came around at Harry quickly. Too quick, even if it didn't know exactly where Harry was. Harry barely had a chance to do much of anything before the side of the basilisk slammed into him like he had flown his broom directly into a wall throwing him backwards into the wall of the chamber. Coughing, his chest full of a deep ache, Harry still managed to pull himself to his feet.
Wavering on his feet, Harry raised the sword in both of his hands.
Harry watched as the approaching basilisk settled itself into a coil on the chamber floor in front of him. He watched as the massive head pulled back slightly in the brief moment before it would strike. And then it moved, blindingly fast. Harry stepped just slightly to one side, driving the sword up with all of his weight, all of his emotion, everything he had.
He had an impression of teeth and heavy fetid air across his face.
But his aim was true, driving the sword up into the roof of the serpent's mouth. Pain exploded down Harry's arm as one of the basilisk's massive fangs sank deep into his arm. What seemed like a river of blood poured down Harry's arm. The fang splintered as the dying basilisk, the sword still buried beep into it's brain, keeled over sideways suddenly and went into convulsions.
Harry slid down the wall. The world seemed swimming in and out of focus, but it did nothing to numb the pain shooting through one whole side of Harry's body. Harry reached up with his other hand and cried out as he tried to pull the basilisk fang free. After a long moment it finally came loose revealing a wound on his arm just below the elbow that was too horrible to look at. A hint of smoke and horrible smell like something gone to rot rose from the wound.
As Harry dropped the fang he had only one horrible thought: The venom was spreading.
Riddle shadow fell over Harry as he approached. Harry's wand was held loosely in one of Riddle's hands. "You're dead."
Harry looked down at his bloodied hands. "So it would seem."
"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle. The shade seemed almost giddy. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be reunited with your dear Mudblood mother soon. She bought you twelve years of borrowed time . . . but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must."
A pair of tears rolled down Harry's cheek.
Riddle crouched down close by. "Don't cry, Harry. There's no need to cry. I'll give you one last thing before you go. You might even call it a gift. It's much the same as I gave your parents. You won't die alone." Riddle looked back over his shoulder to where a small fiery haired girl lay on the chamber floor. "Ginny will be along to meet you soon enough."
Harry followed Riddle's gaze. The girl on the floor was small. Ethereal. Words that danced beyond Harry's grasp even if the feelings they would be used to encapsulate felt like coming home.
Beautiful, the word came effortlessly.
Something inside of Harry turned to steel even as the last remnants of his strength seemed to be deserting him.
"No."
"No?" Riddle seemed almost amused. Harry could swear that son-of-a-bitch was actually smiling and the anger that brought up in Harry was like a reminder that he wasn't finished just yet.
"No. You can't have her."
Riddle actually had the temerity to laugh out loud. "And what could a beaten little pissant like you possible do to stop me."
Harry looked down startled as Riddle's diary, the same diary he had used to enchant Ginny and bend her to his will, was suddenly swept into his lap by Dumbledore's phoenix. It was the diary Riddle was using to sap the last bit of life out of her. In his extreme he could almost see the dwindling but still vivid lilac and white thread that was sapping the life out of Ginny and the solid gray one that connected it to the wraith of Riddle.
Harry saw Riddle's startled eyes. Almost unthinking, Harry picked up the basilisk fang, still dripping with his own blood, raising it up over the diary in his lap . . .
Riddle started to raise Harry's wand. "Don . . ."
. . . and driving it down into the diary with what felt like the last of his strength. He didn't see it, not really, but Harry had the impression of light, mostly white, but with a hint of lilac like the first breath of spring, exploding out at him. What he saw with his eyes was ink pouring out of the diary as if it were blood.
His only thoughts were of Ginny. That he may be dying, but Ginny would be fine, and that was alright. It was okay. If he had to give his life for Ginny that was a worthy sacrifice.
Riddle was gone.
Ginny was safe.
It was worth it.
As Harry slumped against the wall, the pain, the venom, the loss of blood finally dragging him down, Harry Potter actually smiled.
In the last moments, as his eyes slipped closed, Harry glimpsed as Dumbledore's phoenix came to a soft landing and settled for a moment on his chest. He could feel the softness of the feathers against his skin.
"Thank you, Fawkes."
The words came on a breath so soft they could hardly be heard at all.
"Thank you."
Thanks for helping me win.
Author's note: Much of this chapter is more or less what's in the book, but I made a few changes to suit me and what I have planned as well as upping the tension just a little. I hope you like this. This is my first attempt at a HP ff. More to come soon.