Harry pelted through the corridors as fast as he could, with Neville struggling to keep up in his wake. His legs were pumping hard and fast, but they were poor competitors for his heart in that department, which was thumping so hard that Harry half-expected it to burst clear from his chest cavity and lead the way to his quarry.

And it was a quarry that Harry couldn't even bear to comprehend the current state of.

In a worst case scenario, Harry was already considering the Restricted Section of the library, which must have contained the incantation to the Killing Curse. He hoped Neville would feel up to using it, though, for Harry's hands were trembling so much he knew he wouldn't be able to cast it on himself. But he tried not to think about that outcome. Hermione would still be alive ... she had to be. She just had to.

Up this staircase, down that corridor, through this tapestry - it was amazing that Harry knew the correct route. It was as though an invisible hand were guiding him. Despite this, it still seemed to take an age to reach the gloomy hallway outside the Arithmancy classrooms, which was the last place that Harry knew Hermione to be.

"Harry! Look out!"

Neville's warning came just in time.

For as they came skidding round the corner into the corridor they were met by a most unexpected barrier - a body on the floor! Harry vaulted it just in time and turned to see who it was, his fraught mind speeding around his skull.

"It's Colin!" Neville hissed as he finally caught up to Harry. "He's been Petrified!"

"And look at his camera!" Harry murmured, picking up the smashed item from next to Colin's statue-like figure. "Maybe he managed to catch a photo of the monster ..."

Harry opened the back of the camera. It hissed like water hitting a screaming hot frying pan, and the film curled and melted as Harry dropped the camera in surprise.

"We just cant catch a bit of luck, can we?" Neville moaned bitterly. Then he looked up. "Harry! There's another body over there!"

Harry darted up in a flash. He hurried down the corridor to a second victim, hunched up against the wall. But this wasn't Hermione, either.

"Demelza," Harry hushed, turning the body gently. "She must have been with Colin ... on the way to the Valentines Party maybe. They meet on the Third Floor near here, don't they?"

Neville nodded. "Yeah. That's where Fay wanted to take me tonight. She had agreed to chaperone the party. Harry ... what's that?"

Neville pointed to a shiny object in Demelza's Petrified-shut fist.

"It's a mirror!" Harry whispered sharply. "Hermione's mirror! The one Lavender gave her, to keep an eye out for the Hufflepuffs after Sally was attacked."

"But why would Demelza have it?"

Harry frowned as he thought. Then it came to him. "Hermione could hear the monster. She knew not to look at it, because it would Petrify you. She must have been using the mirror to look around corners. But she was following it with her phone camera! She must have given the mirror to Demelza and told her what to do!"

"But how does Hermione know what the monster is?"

"We've suspected for ages that it's a giant snake ... a Basilisk," Harry explained.

Neville sucked in a shocked breath. "Why didn't you say?"

"Because," Harry began. "Hermione and I have been hearing disembodied voices in the walls. That's not a good thing to confess in the magic, Muggle or Hermione's world. Besides, we read about the historical stigma that comes with being a Parselmouth."

"Mmm," Neville agreed. "Slytherin could speak it, couldn't he?"

"Not just him, but Voldemort, too," Harry explained. "We think that ... and don't go blabbing this ... we think it was Voldemort that was possessing Hermione using the dream diary. Lockhart is involved somewhere - but we haven't solved that bit yet - but Hermione inherited a bit of Voldemort's power, just like I did when he tried to attack me as a baby."

"So you both can speak Parseltongue!" Neville exclaimed. "Wow. If people knew that they'd definitely have expelled Hermione by now!"

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "They might even have slung her in Azkaban. If they do that for kids. So we kept it to ourselves. We were hoping to find a way to use the power to prove that either Hermione was totally innocent and not involved at all, or that someone was acting through her. I stole the diary from Lockhart's office, I just haven't decided what to do with it yet."

"But, if Hermione heard the voice and wasn't possessed, then she couldn't have opened the Chamber and released the Basilisk tonight?" Neville considered.

"No, so it proves her innocence," Harry agreed.

"But if she didn't do it ... who did?" Neville asked, darkly. "Someone has to be responsible."

"I don't know, and for now I don't care! I just have to find Hermione. Come on!"

They leapt up and took off again, sprinting away from Colin and Demelza. Harry tried to feel bad about leaving them behind, but he was single-minded in his hunt for Hermione now. She was his priority and he was mindless in his pursuit of her.

And he didn't have to look too far.

For there, in the very next corridor, they found her. Harry's eyes fell on her figure, that familiar shape that he had come to know so very well. It was undoubtedly her. But she was in a pool of something ominously dark. Harry's knees splashed into it with a echo as he fell at her side.

"No, no, no," he moaned throatily. He couldn't bring himself to touch the substance cascading against his sodden shins.

But Neville did. And Harry could have kissed him when he said what it was.

"It's water, Harry, just water," Neville whispered, scooping a palmful up to his nose. He let it splash back to the floor.

"Dont let her be dead ... it's my fault if she's dead ..."

Harry couldn't even move to look at Hermione, let alone assess her condition. Neville took the lead again.

"That's a pulse, Harry! I'm sure it is!"

A wave of palpable relief crashed into Harry so powerful that he had to brace himself against the wall to stay sitting upright. He felt his heart start beating again in his chest. He hadn't even noticed that it had stopped.

"Are you sure?"

"Here ... feel."

Neville guided Harry's fingers to Hermione's wrist. Harry disregarded that ... and took her whole hand in his own. Her skin was so cold. That was what struck Harry the most. It took his own breath in an agonized rush. But then he felt it ...

Thump ... thump ... thump ...

A steady thrum at Hermione's wrist against his own fingertips! Harry felt light-headed as he marked the moments with each beat of Hermione's pulse, her heart still beating strong within her body. She was alive! And Harry was overcome with a heady surge of emotion in that moment.

Completely forgetting that Neville was there, Harry threw his chest atop Hermione's and snatched his arms around her shoulders. His lips fell naturally to her cheek, as his head nestled in the crook of her neck, and he pushed them out to kiss the side of her face once, twice, three times. He didn't even care that Neville would see or how he might tease him for it later.

And, for the first time, Harry accepted that all the things people had been saying about him and Hermione were completely right. He had just taken the longest time to see it, to know what it was.

But the fairytale ending Harry had hoped for didn't arrive. Hermione didn't miraculously wake up from Harry peppering her face with his shy little kisses. She stayed utterly still, her eyes glassy and wide in shock. She looked for all the world like she was carved from stone.

"Harry, we have to move her," Neville urged, pushing Harry's shoulder gently. "We have to get help."

"You go," Harry replied, his voice muffled where he had burrowed under the bushy curtain of Hermione's hair. "I'm not leaving her."

"Okay. Just stay there. I'll be as quick as I can."

"I'm not moving."

And he didn't. Not until ten minutes later when Dumbledore, McGonagall and the Gryffindor Prefects came hurrying around the corner. McGonagall was coordinating the floatation of Colin and Demelza, with Neville clutching at a stitch in his side behind them all.

Dumbledore reached Harry first. He bent down, and with surprising strength, lifted him clear away from Hermione without even asking him to move. Harry went to protest, but then Dumbledore began casting his wand over Hermione's body. He frowned in his concern.

"What is it?" Harry demanded, kneeling in the water again.

Dumbledore continued spell casting as he replied. "Miss Granger's condition is far more serious than the others. I feel she may have caught a little of the Stare directly. She is in critical danger. She must reach the Hospital Wing very soon and be placed into stasis before it is too late."

"Then let's go!" Harry cried desperately.

"No, we do not have time to walk," Dumbledore dismissed firmly. "Fawkes!"

There was a flash of fire above them and the resplendent phoenix emerged from the flame. Without another word, Dumbledore place one hand on Hermione's shoulder, the other on Fawkes' claw, and all three were whirled away in another gout of light.

Harry sat with Hermione late into the evening, angrily rebuking any attempt to get him to retire to bed. It didn't matter what was said to him, about how he could do little to help her now, he steadfastly refused to move. She would have done the same for him - indeed, she already had - so Harry was determined to be here in case she woke up and needed him.

For she was going to wake up. Harry would do whatever he had to for that to happen.

But he had no idea what that might be. Hermione was utterly unresponsive. Dumbledore had managed to slow the spread of the Basilisk Stare, but it couldn't be completely stopped without an antidote. And there was no known one in existence. Basilisk Venom was one of the most potent substances in the world, and the evil stare of the monster was equally as lethal.

And though Hermione hadn't felt the full force of it, the fragment that had hit her would do damage enough. For Harry, the very worst possibility was the final thing that Dumbledore had left with him to consider.

"The Stare hit her in the head," he had warned lowly. "The first organ it will reach after that is her brain. Miss Granger showed great courage to chase the beast, but it may cost her that wonderful mind of hers."

Harry didn't think he could stomach that notion, and he knew full well it was one of Hermione's worst fears. Losing her mind ... the concept terrified her. She'd told him so over their Christmas text message exchanges. But Harry didn't want to think about that either.

For the mobile phone was now completely ruined. Harry had been able to open it just long enough to see that Hermione had saved his name not just with letters, but with little hearts and kisses all around it. He had no idea she'd done that, and tried to picture her squealing with joy every time the pink hearts and red lips surrounding his name flashed up on her phone screen.

Harry's own heart practically melted at the idea. But then the phone screen itself actually melted in his hands, sending him back to his melancholia not only at Hermione's situation, but also at the fact that their text message exchanges - which he had come to love almost as an addiction - seemed now confined to the past.

Harry was stirred from this particular bout of misery when a voice reached his ears from the darkness.

"Still maintaining your vigil, Harry?"

It was Dumbledore, addressing Harry as he strode along the Hospital Wing and took a seat on the other side of Hermione's bed.

Harry nodded to the question. "I cant leave her, Sir."

"You care for Miss Granger a great deal, don't you?" Dumbledore mused.

"Yes, Sir," Harry confirmed dully. "I didn't realise quite how much till ... till tonight, really, when I thought I might lose her. I wont ... will I, Professor?"

"If I could give you a definitive on that, Harry - to ease your anguished mind - I hope you know that I would."

"But you cant."

Dumbledore shook his head gravely. "I am afraid I cannot."

"She wont die, will she?"

"I would think not," Dumbledore confirmed. "But the damage that could be done may change her life irrevocably. We must do all we can to prevent that."

"But what can be done!" Harry cried hopelessly. "You said yourself that nothing can be done."

"Did I say that? I do not recall that I did."

A seed of hope bloomed in Harry's chest at Dumbledore's cryptic tone. "You said that there is no known cure for the Stare of the Basilisk."

"I did say that," Dumbledore agreed. "And I was quite correct."

"Then there is no cure!"

"No known cure, Harry," Dumbledore corrected patiently.

Harry and Dumbledore looked deeply into the face of the other.

"Sir, I know you like your games and puzzles," Harry huffed. "But my best ... my girl ... my Hermione's life is at stake here. Can we please get to the point?"

"I share your need for hastiness," Dumbledore agreed. "And not just due to the deteriorating nature of Miss Granger's condition."

"I don't understand," Harry frowned.

"About thirty minutes ago, the Minister for Magic and a consignment of school Governors arrived, seeking an audience with me. Minerva, bless her, is making sure they fill out all the relevant visitor paperwork - including extra forms to counteract Serious Magical Creature Threat. The process is, shall we say, lengthy."

"And what do they want with you?" Harry queried.

"To remove me from my position as Headmaster, I imagine."

"What!" Harry thundered. "Why? You are the most powerful wizard around. Who is better equipped to protect us from Slytherin's Monster?"

Dumbledore looked pointedly around the dark ward, his eyes resting on Hermione, who looked as though she were simply enjoying a good night's sleep, albeit with one hand locked tenderly in Harry's.

"It could be argued that I have not done very well in that respect," Dumbledore replied calmly. "The evidence is scattered all around us."

"But that's not your fault!" Harry argued hotly. "You cant be blamed for it."

"Perhaps, but they need to accuse someone," Dumbledore pointed out reasonably. "And rather me than an innocent girl like Miss Granger."

Harry gasped out loud. "You're going to take the blame, aren't you!? But, Sir - you cant!"

"I can, and I will," Dumbledore disagreed gently. "But despite my act of heroic martyrdom, the problem will not be solved, Harry."

Harry nodded in comprehension. "Whoever is responsible will still be at large."

"Precisely, and we must unearth the culprit. Only then can we begin to meditate on possible - maybe radical - solutions to the problems facing us, Harry."

"Sir ... there is something I didn't tell you ..."

And Harry finally confessed all he knew about the dream diary, Lockhart and Hermione's possession. Dumbledore listened closely, not interrupting Harry until he had vented all that was on his mind.

"This is all very disturbing," Dumbledore considered lowly. "And you still have this diary?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Keep it safe, Harry," Dumbledore urged. "We may yet need it to solve this riddle. But whatever you do, do not write in it. If Lord Voldemort is able to possess every person who does, then we must keep you away from it. You may be the only chance we have now of finding the Chamber and stopping the beast within."

"Me? How?" Harry asked, stunned. "I don't know where it is."

"Perhaps not, but you are now the only person on the side of good who can hear the monster, or who could follow it to wherever it hides out of sight," Dumbledore explained. "What you need to do, Harry ... is to learn how to talk back. Maybe then you could learn how to influence the beast for yourself. Or, perhaps, it could tell you how to undo the damage it has caused."

Movement, at the end of the corridor outside the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore stood up, preparing to flee. Harry saw, for the first time, Fawkes standing ready on the windowsill.

"But, Sir," Harry complained. "How can I suddenly be expected to speak a language I've barely heard, let alone never spoken before?"

Dumbledore looked down kindly at him. The sounds outside the door were closer now. They were voices ... and animated ones at that. Dumbledore glanced at them, then back at Harry.

"It wouldn't be your first time, would it?" Dumbledore hushed knowingly. He stepped close to Fawkes and smoothed his plumage. "Perhaps one type of serpent can help you learn how to speak to another?"

"Ahh!" Harry whispered, his eyes bulging with understanding. "But, Sir -"

Then the doors to the Hospital Wing burst open with a flood of torchlight from the corridor outside. But it wasn't nearly as bright as the flash of fire from Fawkes. It ignited over near the window, and when it died both the elderly wizard and his phoenix had vanished.