Harry awoke to the feeling of vibrations and a blinding headache. The headache, unfortunately, was a familiar feeling that he tried to ignore as best he could. The vibrations on the other hand… he could somehow feel footsteps.
That was new.
He groaned and startled himself when a low hiss emerged instead. His headache flared as he jerked his head back in confusion. He looked around wildly, just now noticing how everything was bathed in a grayish light - even the golden sunbeams from earlier.
He turned his head, taking in the jet-black scales where talons and feathers should be. His body was monstrously big, larger than a tree trunk. He tried to move, but everything still felt sluggish. The wound near his midsection still throbbed from Riddle's bite.
Riddle! Where was he? Or, as Harry's memories caught up to him - where was the Horcrux?
His tongue flickered out, tasting the air. Information flooded his mind: where a small pool of water sat in the corner of the room, the exact pattern of pale sunlight that fell across the middle of the floor, and the faint traces of warm bodies that had since departed. There were three that Harry could sense; one that left a charred aftertaste in his nostrils, another that smelled like decaying things under a rotted log; and the last, the fearful, ripe scent of easy prey. These scents were faint, though; nothing remained in the cavern now, save for himself.
Yet there were footsteps approaching. He would not be alone for long.
The vibrations grew louder, and Harry could sense the pairs of feet that drew closer. He heard voices, too, one low and gruff and the other musical and lilting. "Could you be any louder?" the soothing voice hissed. Harry knew that voice. It was Legolas.
He couldn't be seen like this. His transformation had been borne of desperation for something - anything - to defeat Riddle, but now he had to live with the result. An animagus form always reflected the innermost part of a witch or wizard; Harry did not want to think about what the basilisk represented about him. He could not let his friends see him this way.
Harry shut his deadly, yellow eyes and willed himself back to a human. It was slow going – the basilisk did not want to relinquish its freedom. But Harry could not accept either Gimli or Legolas seeing this form, nor would he risk meeting them with a basilisk's gaze. Slowly he changed, until an exhausted man appeared on the cold flagstones.
Harry groaned again, as his wounds reappeared in his human form. Twin puncture wounds appeared along his calf and again near his stomach. Purplish bruises covered his body from where he had been flung against the packed ground.
"Another survivor," the hushed voice whispered.
"Durin be damned!" Gimli swore.
Harry could see the faint outlines of both rescuers in the low light. He silently cursed his human eyesight. Eclipse never had much trouble with the darkness but he didn't have the strength to transform, and he wasn't sure if he even could revert to his phoenix form. It suddenly felt difficult to breathe. Harry wheezed, though it came out like a gurgle.
Legolas's head snapped towards him, unerringly pinpointing Harry's location.
"I thought I heard - Harry!"
The elf rushed over. He paused, hands clenching and unclenching at his side, as he took in Harry's injured state.
Harry tried to smile, but something cracked on his cheek and a coppery taste filled his mouth. The elf knelt by him, eyes bright with worry. As a cool hand reached out towards him, Harry finally felt at peace.
"Stay with me," Legolas warned.
Legolas's hand was warm on his forehead. Harry's eyes began drifting shut, feeling safe in the knowledge that he was surrounded by friends. Something shook his shoulder, white-hot pain racing up his arm. Harry groaned, and cracked an eye open. Silvery-blue eyes stood not a heartbeat away, looking at him intently.
"You can't sleep yet. It is not safe."
"It's fine," Harry said, his voice was tight with pain. "The basilisk is dead."
The elf's arms tightened briefly on his shoulder, sending another rush of pain and a low hiss from Harry. Legolas quickly loosened his grip.
"The what? It is you I am worried for. You cannot sleep just yet."
Legolas carefully positioned himself so Harry could lean most of his weight against the elf. Together, they slowly moved back towards the corridor. They had nearly left the cavernous ruins of a room when Harry remembered the horrible, terrible thought that had been bubbling up in the back of his mind.
"The ring!"
Both Legolas and Gimli stopped and looked at him with alarm.
"The ring?" Gimli asked, his voice gruff.
Harry paused for a minute before he remembered the tales of the one ring that Gimli and Legolas had spoken off in still-wary tones over long nights around the campfire.
"No, but… a similar ring. We can't leave here without it."
Legolas and Gimli searched the room, struggling to see in the low light.
There was no sign of the ring.
Harry's eyes watered as they staggered into the courtyard. He leaned heavily against Legolas and Gimli during the walk upwards, but their uneven heights made it difficult to move quickly. Harry paused for a moment, catching his breath and raising a hand to shade his eyes from the sun.
About twenty horses stood side-by-side in a picket line; a handful of men had started a campfire in the middle of the flagstones and were cooking something that smelled wonderful. Harry's stomach grumbled. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious but suspected it must have been a few days for the king's reinforcements to arrive.
A few heads looked up at the movement in the doorway; two men quickly hurried over when they saw how heavily Harry was leaning against Legolas.
"Did you find any others?" one of the men asked.
"A few. Most are dead. One… one looks dead, yet he has a pulse. I am not sure what magic ails him." Gimli said, his voice troubled.
"He might be petrified," Harry said. "There is a way to cure it… but I do not know how."
"Your tears would not fix this disease?" Legolas asked.
"No; at least, I don't think so. I can try."
Legolas placed a firm hand on Harry, still mindful of his injured shoulder.
"You can try once you are healed, and not a moment before."
Legolas hesitated and eyed Harry critically. "I am worried about taking you back to Minas Tirith. The others are fine; the few that are alive are not so injured and can make the ride back to Gondor. If it does not take too much of your energy, it might be better for you to return through the shadows."
Harry nodded slowly. The action felt like a hammer taken to his head and he quickly aborted the movement. He couldn't imagine he would fare better while being jostled by a horse.
"I'll...see you there?" He asked.
Legolas nodded decisively.
"We will follow once we have rescued everyone there is to rescue."
The elf grasped Harry's hands for a long moment.
"I am glad you're safe. When you failed to return that morning… I worried the entire ride that something had happened. I am glad to see you whole, though I would be gladder to see you healed. Go straight to the medical wing and try not to find more trouble before we get back."
"I will," Harry said, wondering if that was the type of promise he should make. It had never worked before, but after listening to the elf's beseeching tone, Harry thought he could at least try.
Then, before he could think too much about how much this might hurt, he turned and Apparated away with a crack. In the next instant, the soft white bed came into view; then Harry puked all over the stone floor as everything went black.
The next few days passed in a feverish dreamlike state. When Harry felt cool liquid against his lips, he drank; when he sweated too much, the sheets were replaced. Both dreams and reality overlapped with each other; until, Harry woke one morning and everything fell slotted into place.
He took a deep breath and looked around. He was back in the same room as before, with white curtains fluttering in the breeze. The scene was so familiar, he had a sudden flash of deja vu. Something was different though. The atmosphere seemed tranquil, but there were whispers of discontent that ate quietly at the back of Harry's mind.
He jerked upright and concentrated on strengthening his Occlumency shields. The whispers stopped.
Harry heard a commotion in the hallway. There were a great many voices, all talking over each other, but he was able to pick out a few sentences.
"—about twenty returned—" "—bring them here—"
Harry slowly lowered his Occlumency barriers and the nearly inaudible buzz of discontent returned. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing thoughts. Harry slowly turned his head one way and then another, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.
He took one step from the bed, then another, quickly crossing the room. He flung open the door and entered the corridor. It was bustling with healers carting several men with bandaged arms or makeshift casts.
The buzzing came from down the hall, so Harry tried to walk around the commotion.
"Where do you think you are going?" said a voice. It was one of the healers, who did not look happy to see Harry leaving his room.
"Bathroom," Harry said and twisted away from the healer. He didn't dare run; his legs still felt shaky after so much time in bed. The sense of malaise was growing stronger with every step. Harry lowered his Occlumency barriers further, straining to get a sense of the exact location. He felt a hot flash of rage, which slammed against his mind and then—it vanished.
Harry sank to the floor under the unexpected onslaught. His head pounded and he had to wait a few seconds for his vision to clear. He gingerly removed his shielding, piece by piece, waiting for another mental attack. But the feeling had disappeared without a trace. He cursed and started to stand.
"Harry! Are you well? You should be resting."
Legolas appeared beside him and helped him stand. Harry gratefully leaned his weight against him.
"Not yet," he said. "I need to see something."
The two continued walking down the corridor. Harry eyed a few doors as they walked, hesitating over the doorknobs. Where had it gone?
"You… you didn't end up finding a ring, did you?"
"We did not." Legolas frowned and took a long look at Harry's face. "What is so terrible about this ring?"
"It's a Horcrux." Harry said the last word in English, having no better way to translate it. "It can change your thoughts, and take over your body if it's powerful enough. I think this one is."
Legolas grabbed his arm in a grip that hurt.
"It's the One Ring?" the elf hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"It's not. Yours was thrown into a volcano; Tom found this one in Dol Guldur."
After I brought him here, Harry didn't add. Had Voldemort really told the truth in the caverns? Harry thought he had. Harry had hunted Horcruxes before; this one sang a song both familiar and haunting, like a nursery rhyme. Tricky as he might be on the battlefield, Lord Voldemort usually wielded the truth as a weapon in their private encounters.
Harry quickly looked around the still-crowded hall but didn't see anyone who had taken notice of Legolas's outburst. The elf followed his gaze and came to the same conclusion; he opened the nearby room and dragged Harry inside so they could chat in private.
"We need Gandalf for this," Legolas said with a sigh.
"Gandalf? Gandalf was just here," said a voice. Both Harry and Legolas spun at the unexpected noise. A white privacy curtain hung in the middle of the room, likely obscuring another hospital bed behind.
Legolas pulled back the curtain to reveal two figures. The speaker was a woman with untamed curls and a simple embroidered dress of blue. She straightened from where she had bent over a man, her hand lingering over his, before retreating into the pockets of her skirt. The woman was unfamiliar to Harry, but Legolas let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her.
"Do you know where he went, Lady Eowyn? And how does Lord Faramir fare?"
"You can ask him yourself," the woman said with a smile, as she gestured to the man. True to her word, the man appeared healthy. His appearance was youthful, but with a grave countenance; he looked at the party with tired eyes. A long cut ran from his cheek to his neck. It was the man that Harry had healed beneath Minas Morgul. Harry was glad to see him well.
"I have been better," Lord Faramir said. "Let us hope that we have flushed out the final remnants of evil from this war."
"We must hope indeed," Legolas said. "Yet the fight might not be over yet. Do you know where Gandalf is headed?"
"Back to his quarters, I believe. He came to see Inithor and then left."
Her eyes flicked over to the far side of the room, where Harry realized there was another bed. The soldier lay on it in rigid repose; he had none of the small movements of life, such as the rise and fall of his breath.
This must be the petrified soldier, Harry thought, as he moved closer to the bed. He stared down at the frozen face; the eyes were caught wide-open so that Harry could see the exact shade of brown of the iris. Harry's eyes watered in sympathy.
Harry wondered if he could heal the man.
He closed his eyes, partly to avoid the unnerving gaze of the petrified soldier and partly to focus on his transformation. Harry didn't think that phoenix tears could cure this, but he wanted to be sure. Harry visualized sharp golden talons and black feathers, but as he concentrated, the images were suddenly replaced with luminous giant eyes and dark scales. Harry could feel himself beginning to become heavier instead of lighter, and he wrenched his eyes open with a gasp.
Legolas was by his side in seconds.
"What happened?"
He shook his head in response to the elf's question, for he had no answer. Harry had been trying to transform into his phoenix form but had almost changed into a deadly snake instead. He might have crushed Legolas and Eowyn by his sheer size alone in the small room.
"I… I'm tired. I was going to try to heal him but I think I should wait." He said, not having to feign the short breaths he took while speaking. Harry was beginning to feel panicked. Could he transform into a phoenix once more, or had his choice down in the caverns irrecoverably changed his Animagus transformation? Wizards could only have one Patronus, after all. The forms could change, but there could never be two at the same time.
The walk back to his room passed in a fog. Even as Legolas helped him back into bed, Harry could only think of one thing: was Eclipse gone for good?