"I hate that snake." Neville muttered, resting his head on his folded arms tiredly. They were sat at their table in the Library, hidden away by the partition to the Restricted Section by the many aisles of bookshelves, and the large collection of dusty tomes and scrolls that littered the bench.
"You're not the one that has to talk to it." Harry grouched, trying to force his eyes to follow along with the words on the page. He was currently reading An Enchanters Excitements, a book that must have been at least three hundred years old if the battered cover and pages were anything to go by.
It was possibly the dullest read he'd ever had.
"True." Neville hummed tiredly. "Sounds like a right arse."
Haju, the guardian snake of Salazar Slytherin's locket, was, indeed, an arse. He had bitten Daphne on no less than three occasions, Tracey once, and was content to simply hurl insults at Neville each time he opened his mouth. He was more courteous to Harry, of course, being the Parselmouth of the group – though that hadn't meant that he'd helped.
Not that Harry could really blame the inanimate serpent – it was guardian, that much was clear. What use was a guardian on a door if it helped just anybody through? The problem was, however, finding out just what would allow them to pass, which is what had led them to the Library.
"I still don't know why you tried to touch the snake that last time." Tracey said, looking at Daphne, who rolled her eyes.
"I just wanted to give him a jab for biting me before." She huffed, scowling at the page before her at the memory.
Harry had to cover his mouth with his hand as he turned the page. Daphne, usually the cautious one of their group, had been the least cautious with the snake. She had been bitten once, which had led to the startling discovery, and then a second time, the following day when she had tried to read the faded runes carved into it. The third, had been her attempt for revenge, and a wonderful source of teasing for the rest of them.
"Something funny, Potter?" She scowled at him, her nostrils flaring dangerously. He pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head. "That's what I thought." She huffed, going back to her book.
"Has anyone actually found something they think would be useful, or are we just wasting our time?" Tracey moaned, leaning back in her chair, and throwing her arms out to the side. "There's got to be a better way of doing this."
"I say we just blast it open." Neville muttered, his head still in his folded arms atop his own book.
"Excellent idea, Neville – lets bring that whole part of the room down on top of us, shall we?"
"No need to get snippy, Daphne."
"I-" Daphne began, only to let out a heavy sigh and rub at her temples and close her eyes. "You're right, this is getting us nowhere."
"We're all tired from Astronomy last night – why don't we just get a decent night and come back to it tomorrow after classes?" Harry offered, looking around at everyone – they all nodded, even Neville, buried in the crook of his arm. "Alright, let's get the books back where they belong, and we'll get going – do you have the list?" He asked, looking at the Greengrass Heiress, who just nodded tiredly.
It had been quickly decided that Daphne would be the caretaker of the list of which books they were reading, and what pages they'd reached; Tracey and Neville weren't deemed responsible enough by the Slytherin, and Harry didn't need to be told why he wasn't the keeper.
He slammed his book closed, harder than he'd meant to, but in a childish way, it felt good to enact some petty form of revenge on the volume after it had sucked him dry of any and all motivation for the remainder of the day. He pushed his chair out with the back of his knees as he stood, picking up the volume and half a dozen others as he made his way over to the stacks, the others doing likewise.
He quickly went through the process of making sure they were all in their correct places on the shelves, keeping to the alphabetical system that Madame Pince maintained – he'd caught her giving a pair of fifth year Gryffindors a tongue lashing for not returning their books to the correct places at the start of the year, and had no desire to experience it first-hand.
With the books returned, he made his way back to the table and threw his coat on, tugging on the sleeves when they got stuck on his doublet beneath. Daphne arrived back first, her coat already on, with Tracey and finally Neville joining them moments later.
Neither he nor Neville had brought their bags with them, so they simply waited for the girls to gather theirs before they set off.
The sun had long since set, and the cold beams of light from the moon filtered in lazily through the large windows. It was a clear night, and the half-moon shone brightly in the night sky, thousands of tiny little stars flickering all around it.
The hour was late, and curfew would be arriving any minute, so it wasn't any surprise that they were the last to leave the Library – not even Madame Pince was around to see them out, her large desk absent of her stern presence.
They walked the halls in silence, their footsteps echoing off of the stone beneath them as they made their way back to their separate Common Rooms – Tracey yawned, and Neville stretched his arms above his head with a groan.
The candlelight and the torches mounted on the walls flickered in their mountings as they passed, casting long, dark shadows on the various suits of armour and dark nooks and crannies of Hogwarts. There was a silence about the castle this late in the evening that Harry found to be relaxing, peaceful, even.
They turned a corridor, after passing by the Transfiguration Courtyard, and came upon the backs of most of the staff of Hogwarts, crowded around something on the wall. Harry paled, and glanced at his friends and noticed their similar pallor – Ned Ibex had been attacked only a few days ago, a Ravenclaw student a few years above them; surely there couldn't have been another attack so soon?
They darted behind a nearby pillar, Harry pressing himself up against the cold stone as the others peered around his shoulder.
"-another message." McGonagall was saying, Snape at her side with his long, black, bat-like robes. Madame Pomfrey was there, her red and white Healer's robes standing out against the dark evening wear of the rest of the staff. He also spied Professors Reyne, Ash, Babbling, Sinistra, and Flitwick amongst the huddle.
"Our worst fear has been realised; a student has been taken by the Basilisk into the Chamber itself!" McGonagall exclaimed, and Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets – Ruhxu had taken someone? That didn't make any sense, it would have had to have been whoever was controlling her. "The students must be sent home – I'm afraid this is the end of Hogwarts." She continued; her voice strained.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Harry peered out a little further in an attempt to spot the new arrival. There, in a garish, lilac three-piece-suit, was Lockhart. "So sorry, dozed off – what have I missed?" He asked with a smile, clasping his hands at the small of his back as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Harry scowled at the man, feeling his magic simmering at the sight of him. He'd been a useless professor all year, and they'd barely learned a thing. The one time he'd seen the man actually do his job was during the class on Pixies, and that had ended in disaster as well!
"A girl has been snatched by the Basilisk, Lockhart, your moment has come at last." Snape sneered, and for a brief, petty moment, Harry couldn't work out which wizard he despised more – the pompous fool, or the greasy bat.
"M-my m-moment?" Lockhart blinked, wide-eyed. The Professors all turned to look upon him.
"Weren't you saying just last night that you knew all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?" Snape answered him quickly. There was a beat of silence, and Harry could feel the waves of panic and fear rolling off of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
"That's settled, then. We'll leave you to deal with the monster, Gilderoy. Your skills after all are legendary. The rest of us shall move the students to the Great Hall – better to have them all in one place than all over the castle." McGonagall declared, looking about the staff, who all nodded.
"Very well, I'll uh, I'll just be in my office then, getting… getting ready." Lockhart nodded, his voice confident, though his magic was anything but. Lockhart strode away quickly, his footsteps fading away as he turned the corner further down the corridor.
"Who is it that's been taken, Minerva?" Pomfrey asked.
"Gin-." McGonagall paused, before turning to look in his direction. "Misters Potter and Longbottom should desist in their eavesdropping – and bring Miss Greengrass and Davis with you."
Harry winced and stepped out from behind the pillar with the others following – a hissed curse from Tracey the only sound of protest. "We didn't mean to, Professor."
"I'm sure you didn't – it must have been difficult, to decide to hide behind that pillar instead of returning to the Common Room, hm?" She asked, fixing him with a look. "I trust you heard more than enough?"
"Yes, Professor." They all grumbled, looking between themselves.
"I see." She said slowly, clasping her hands before her. "I trust, then, that you'll cease your incessant search for the Chamber, then?" She asked, and Harry felt his jaw drop involuntarily. "Oh, we've known of the books you've all been reading for quite some time – you are, after all, not the first students to go looking."
"First to find it, though." Neville muttered, and groaned as Daphne elbowed him sharply in the side.
"You found it?" Snape scoffed, rolling his dark eyes. "The arrogance to think-"
"It's in the Trophy Room." Harry snapped at the professor, narrowing his eyes at the man. "We think we found the door, but we don't know how to open it. Salazar's statue has a snake on it."
"A snake?" Flitwick frowned, moving forward. "I know the statues well – I assume you're talking about the one on his locket?"
"Aye – it's called Haju. It speaks."
"It's probably enchanted, then." Espinoza, the young, temporary stand-in for Professor Cantrill, nodded, stroking his lightly bearded chin and frowning. "I've never heard of an enchantment that mimics Parseltongue before, though."
"Well, that's what it does. Unless Lockhart is a Parselmouth, I don't see him getting past Haju." Harry frowned. He looked between the professors arrayed before him, all looking doubtful and muttering amongst themselves. "Look, Ruhxu has someone down there – or whoever is controlling her."
"Ah, of course – Potter knows the name of the beast. How fitting." Snape drawled.
"Of course I do!" Harry snapped. "I've been shunned for being a Parselmouth for the best part of a year."
"Mister Potter, may I remind you to address professors with the appropriate respect." McGonagall chastised, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Harry had respect for the man's talent with potions, nothing more.
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall."
"Good – now, Mister Filch will escort the four of you to the Great Hall, where, as I'm sure you're all aware, the rest of the students will join you momentarily."
"With respect, Professor – we know where the entrance is. Even if you contact the Aurors, you'll not get it open without Harry's help." Daphne said quickly, her shoulders back and her chin raised defiantly. "You'll need a Parselmouth."
"It is a good job we have one in Miss Valencia, then, is it not? I understand that you feel the need to help, but believe me, we adults can, and will handle this."
"Hadn't thought about Micca." Neville muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear.
"That's a first." Tracey scoffed.
"Alright you four, come on." Filch grunted, gesturing for them to follow as he plodded down the corridor. The staff all dispersed quickly at that, jogging in every which way, no doubt to comb the castle of students while the Heads of House saw to their Houses.
Harry trailed slowly after the limping caretaker, and as they passed the section of wall the staff had been huddled around, Harry could clearly see what had gotten them so worked up. There, written in blood, strikingly similar to the message he'd seen at the start of the year, were the words: Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
He felt an involuntary chill run down his spin, and only Neville's hand squeezing his shoulder allowed him to tear his eyes away from it finally. His magic began to tingle along his fingers, like an itch that wouldn't leave him, as he thought about the coming evening.
It was the culmination of the attacks throughout the year – some were bolder than others – but this wasn't just a random attack on a Muggle-born student. It was a statement, perhaps even the last one before whatever grand outcome the mastermind had in store – either way, it would no doubt end one way or another tonight.
Harry glanced at his two Slytherin friends ahead of him and Neville; their arms were intertwined, and it felt strange seeing them like that without Hermione in the middle, chattering away about something or another.
This was really it – the end of Hogwarts.
He started to breath heavily, his chest suddenly feeling tight and painful as the realisation struck him. Hermione would never see the halls they loved so much again – the Library would be nothing but a memory for her. They would all be separated, cursed to see each other only on holidays and talk via owl. Where would Neville go? Daphne? Tracey? They weren't limited by the country for their education – they could literally end up anywhere. Would they be separated by continents and oceans?
His vision began to darken in the corners, and he stumbled into the wall – he heard Neville's cry of alarm as his skin beaded with sweat. His mouth felt dry, like the oldest parchment in the Library, and he felt dizzy.
"Useless, stupid boy – get up before I drag you there." Filch snarled as he appeared before him; his eyes refused to focus, and for a terrifying moment, there were two of them towering over him with thin, greasy, lanky hair. "Now, wouldn't that be a sight? The great Harry Potter dragged into the Great Hall by the scruff of his neck."
"Don't you dare touch him." Neville growled, as he, Daphne, and Tracey all levelled their wands at the man – Harry groaned as he tried to keep his stomach from ending up over the floor.
"Put those wands away, you stupid children. Barely a wonder you haven't killed anyone, waving those things around – got close though, with your Muggle-born friend, didn't you?" He grinned, and Harry slammed his eyes shut and gripped at the sides of his head.
"No." He moaned, feeling the pressure building inside of him – his fingers started twitching first. "No." He repeated, just as pitifully. He felt Filch grab a fistful of the back of his coat. "No, no." He groaned, stumbling forward as the caretaker dragged him. "No!" Harry screamed, throwing his head back and his arms out.
The pressure in his head burst, and for a moment, there was blissful nothingness – he was beyond time, and thought, and feeling. He could feel the insects crawling along the stone bricks, the bats flying through the trees of the forest, and the presence of the Giant Squid in the middle of the lake.
All too soon, reality returned, and he dropped to his knees, panting as he fell forward on his arms. Everything hurt – his knees especially, already sure of the bruises that would form there. He blinked his eyes open slowly, hissing at the pale cyan that tinged the edge of his vision, and the crumpled form of Filch across from him; he looked around, noting the collapsed suits of armour in their small alcoves. Had he done all of that?
"Harry?" Tracey asked quietly. He looked up slowly and almost fell on his side, if not for Daphne bracing him. "Harry, are you alright?"
He just groaned and fought to keep the contents of his stomach down before nodding pitifully. "You really did a number on Filch." Neville murmured, causing Harry to glance at the man once again. There was a large crack in the stonework above him – no doubt from where he'd struck it with some force. That Harry could still see the rise and fall of his chest was the only thing that hadn't sent him into a full panic.
"Come on, we need to get out of here." Daphne said, lifting Harry up by his arm, Neville mimicking her on the other side of him. "We can't go to the Great Hall – we need to make sure that Lockhart knows how to get in; maybe he might know the password."
Neville snorted at his side as Harry grimaced. "Lockhart was one second away from pissing himself – he'll bolt, mark my words."
"Anyone would want to bolt at the idea of a Basilisk, Neville." Tracey shot back before taking a deep breath. "He is a bit useless."
"A bit?" Harry groaned, stumbling over to a nearby wall and taking some deep breaths. "Merlin, what happened? I feel awful."
"You blew Filch into the wall – your eyes went all misty and everything." Tracey answered him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. "Are you sure you're alright?
"I'll be fine – I just need a minute."
"We might not have a minute." Daphne said from behind him. "A professor could come through here at any moment."
"We could call Sirius and Amelia?" Neville said, and Harry nodded slowly, feeling his roiling insides settle a little – it wasn't perfect, but at least he no longer felt like he was about to throw up over everyone's feet.
"Amelia needs to know." Harry muttered, pushing himself up properly and only briefly feeling his stomach roll. "Whoever is controlling the Basilisk, Ruhxu, I mean – they have someone in the Chamber."
"So, what? It's like a kidnapping?" Neville asked, with a frown.
"Or a ritual, perhaps." Daphne added. "In which case, the Aurors need to be here now – the longer whoever it is, is down there, the more likely they won't be coming out."
"What are the chances of something else entirely? Something we missed?" Tracey asked, looking between Neville and Daphne as she shifted from foot to foot anxiously.
"Slim." Daphne grimaced. "Come on then, we'll let Sirius know, and then we'll go after Lockhart." She said, already hurrying down the corridor.
Harry spared one last look at the crumpled caretaker before jogging after his three friends. They weren't far from the Transfiguration Courtyard, and it was only a few minutes away from the Great Staircase, which would be a straight shot to the Gryffindor Common Room, and then his bedroom.
They passed all number of portraits, most of them empty, or some lifeless. The torchlight cast long shadows over them as they ran past, and their footsteps echoed up and down the corridor, until Daphne skidded to a halt and Neville slammed into her.
"Why'd you stop?" Tracey asked, peering around the corner. "Oh, shit! It's Ravenclaw and Gryffindor! Quick, hide!"
"Where?" Neville demanded, looking around at the empty corridor, bereft of any useful doors or handy hiding places. "There's nowhere to hide!" He hissed.
Harry looked around, only to spot a portrait that he could have sworn had been empty when they had first passed it, waving at them frantically. He tapped his friends on the arms and quickly pointed at the portrait on the far side of the corridor. "I think it's trying to get our attention." He said, hurrying over to it – there was nothing better to do, after all. The rumble of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor voices drew closer every second.
"Good Sers, young Ladies – I hear that you require a place of safety for the near future, aye?" The armoured Knight asked, clasping his armoured hands before him as he peered at them through the visor of his helmet.
"Yeah, you could say that." Tracey muttered, glancing over her shoulder.
"Have no fear – do you see that tapestry over there? There is a small recess behind it, large enough for the four of you, I should think – once the danger has passed, return to me, and I'll await you here."
Harry glanced over his shoulder and looked at the tapestry in question – it hung heavily against the stone wall, with not the slightest hint of a hidden recess. He looked back at the painting, his disbelief clear on his face, only to watch the Knight wander out of the frame. The voices were just around the corner now.
"Do as he says!" Daphne hissed, hurrying to the large bolt of cloth and ducking behind it. The three of them glanced at one another before following quickly. Harry made sure both Neville and Tracey entered first, with him following shortly after. Just as he ducked behind it, the first of the students passed the intersection, their voices loud and hurried.
Harry blinked into the darkness, listening to the heavy breathing of his friends – they were packed tightly together, their bodies barely fitting into the small alcove. Moments later, the familiar Scottish Brogue of McGonagall reached his ears and he winced at the thought of the tongue-lashing they were likely to receive.
They waited until the footsteps faded away – all that remained between themselves and the Gryffindor Common Room now was the Great Staircase and the portrait of the Fat Lady. He inched out, slowly, until he could glance up and down the corridor clearly. "They're gone!" He hissed, stepping into the corridor fully, and looking to the portrait, where the Knight once again was standing proudly.
The four of them made their way over to the Knight, Harry glancing up and down the hallway every now and then. "Ah, I see you have remained undiscovered – good, this will no doubt aid you on your quest."
"Quest?" Harry blinked, looking up at the angular visor, confused. "We're just trying to get to Gryffindor Tower, and then we'll be going to Professor Lockhart to tell-"
"-him about the Basilisk, aye? My boy, who do you think told the professors just what was prowling the corridors?"
"Excuse me, but, who the bloody-"
"Neville!" Tracey hissed, elbowing him in the side. She cleared her throat and looked back at the picture on the wall. Harry thought she looked far too pleased with herself. "My friend meant to politely ask just who you are."
The Knight chuckled heartily, a deep, rich sound. "My dear children, my name is Ser Cadogan, of House Iddon. As for the foul creature that has roamed these halls, it was I who alerted the Headmaster and staff – a Basilisk's gaze has no effect on a portrait."
"Because you're not alive." Harry murmured as the Knight – Ser Cadogan – nodded at him.
"Indeed, young Lord, and I believe I have just the thing to send the beast back whence it came."
"What's that?"
"The Sword of Gryffindor, of course!"
"Bollocks!" Neville cried, throwing his arms out. "The sword's been lost for centuries."
"Not unlike the Chamber of Secrets, hm? I assure you, young Lord, I know its location." Ser Cadogan answered, the tin-like, muffled voice of the Knight patient. Harry glanced at his friends before looking back at the portrait.
"Why not give it to the professors? Or the Aurors when they get here?" He asked, frowning.
"That is the true question, is it not? I know not why this burden must fall to you, young Lord, only that it must – the castle itself demands it."
"The castle?" Harry blinked, looking around the corridor. "I-" He began, only for his eyes to widen. "It's not just a castle, is it?" He breathed quietly, looking up at the Knight, who nodded solemnly.
"Aye – a castle constructed of and seeped in magic."
"Come – I am to direct you to the blade. Meet me on the fifth floor, the northern corridor, at a portrait similar to this one. There, I shall guide you further – quick, go now." Cadogan commanded, shooing the four of them away.
Harry backed up slowly and watched as the Knight disappeared out of the frame, glancing at his friends. "I don't think we have much of a choice."
"If it's something that can hurt the Basilisk, I'm all for it." Neville agreed. "I don't believe for a second it's the sword, though."
"Stranger things have happened." Daphne hummed. "Come on, we've got no time to lose."
Harry nodded and set off quickly down the corridor, his arms and legs pumping as he skidded around the corner to the Great Staircase. Neville was at his side, with Daphne and Tracey bringing up the rear. Thankfully, the stairs seemed to have been frozen into place, no doubt by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick.
The four of them bounded up the stairs two-at-a-time, darting from landing to landing. By the time they reached the fifth floor, all were wheezing and panting heavily. Harry couldn't remember a time when his legs had burned so much.
They sprinted to the northern corridor, the shadows of the torches somehow feeling darker and more oppressing the further they travelled from the staircases, until eventually, they found the portrait of Ser Cadogan waiting patiently for them, in a tall frame that sat next to an ancient-looking door.
"Excellent, excellent, please, enter the room." The Knight called, pointing to the door.
"I don't remember that door being there before." Daphne panted, bracing herself against her knees. Harry was inclined to agree – they'd walked the corridor a number of times, and not once had there been a door there before.
With a startling sense of déjà vu, Harry was reminded of the magic that had kept the Mirror of Erised hidden from the school at large – was it too much to think it similar magic? The moment Harry's fingers touched the dark, flaking wood of the door, it swung open on silent hinges.
There was nothing inside, but for a pair of portraits – Cadogan stepped into one, while the other was a beautiful depiction of a sword. It had a milk-white blade with runes etched into it, a large ruby planted in the centre of the cross-guard, and a wicked looking pommel.
"I knew it – he's mad." Neville wheezed, leaning against the wall, and clutching at his side. "Nothing, but a painting."
Harry looked over his shoulder at his friend and pursed his lips – he was right, there was nothing in here but a painting; a beautiful one, but a painting, nonetheless.
"The Sword of Gryffindor has remained here for a thousand years, and for a thousand more it shall remain." Cadogan said from his portrait, drawing himself to his full, imposing height. "Reach into the painting, lad, and let it serve you well this night."
Harry looked between the portrait and his friends – Daphne shrugged, while Neville and Tracey simply shook their heads silently. With a shrug, Harry stepped forward and thrust his hand toward the painting of the sword, expecting to feel the canvas beneath his fingertips.
Instead, he gasped when he felt nothing – he flexed his fingers and rolled his wrist, until his fingers wrapped around the leather grip of the sword; it was lighter than he'd expected. He pulled his arm back, and as the sword materialised in his hand, it faded from the portrait.
Unlike the painting, the sword he held in his hand was sheathed in a simple scabbard, though it was without a belt. He shifted the blade to his left hand, hearing the gasps behind him, and the cheering of the Knight. He held it by the scabbard and wrapped his right hand around the hilt, lifting it just enough to peer at the milk-white blade and the elegant Goblin runes carved into its surface.
"I-" He began, looking up at his friends. "This is Godric Gryffindor's sword." He breathed, feeling his knees go weak. Neville was at his side instantly, holding him up by the elbow.
"I don't believe it." Neville murmured, tracing the hilt with light fingers once Harry felt more secure on his feet. "It's the bloody Sword of Gryffindor!"
"Boys and their toys." Daphne sighed, shaking her head. She smiled at him. "Good job, Harry."
"I-" He began, blinking.
"I would suggest, dear children, that you continue with your plan." Cadogan suggested, cutting him off. Harry nodded dumbly and staggered to the door, cradling the weapon in his hands.
"Thank you, Ser Cadogan!" He called as he left the room, getting over his stunned shock. He jogged back the way they had come, quickly returning to the Grand Staircase and darting up the last two levels to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The woman was conspicuously absent, however, and it wasn't until the Knight himself edged his way into the portrait, holding an armoured finger up to his helmet, that the door swung open.
Harry stepped through the portrait first and noted the chaotic mess of the Common Room – it seemed everyone had immediately stopped whatever it was they were doing and followed McGonagall out of the room.
On many tables, were open textbooks and rolls of parchment; one such piece of parchment was soaked through by ink, the dark liquid dripping slowly from the edge of the table and onto an ever increasingly dark spot on the carpet.
The fire continued its crackling in the hearth, and the smouldering remains of a game of Exploding Snap hissed on the coffee table before it. Not far, the pieces of two sets of Wizards Chess enacted their own private war with double the numbers as they quietly screamed their battle cries.
He swept through the Common Room, stepping over pieces of parchment and tipped over books – if Hermione could see the state of the room, she'd have thrown a fit and insisted on righting the books, regardless of the rush and urgency. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted his friends also picking their way through the detritus of his and Neville's House.
Arriving at the foot of the staircase, he darted up it, once more taking the steps two-at-a-time, and threw the door open to his own little common room. Clara was out hunting – he knew that, and he'd sent Hedwig off with a letter to Diagon Alley only the day before, so he had no issue with how noisily he threw open his bedroom door.
His eyes snapped to the piece of mirror on the bedside table and immediately tapped it with his wand. "Sirius Black." He said quickly, panting.
The mirror vibrated once before Sirius and Amelia's faces appeared, looking up at him curiously. "Pup?" Sirius asked, confused as he moved – it seemed the pair of them had been in bed, if the rustle of sheets were anything to go by. "What's wrong? You weren't meant to call for another hour or so yet."
"It's Ruhxu." He said, feeling his friends crowding around him to look into the mirror themselves. "Whoever released her has a student in the Chamber."
"Shit!" Amelia cursed, her face disappearing from the mirror as Sirius too scrambled from the bed.
"Harry-" Sirius began warningly. "I told you not to go looking for it."
"I didn't! We walked into the professors talking about it! There was a warning written in blood on the wall for Merlin's sake!" Harry answered him. "All the students have been taken to the Great Hall – I think they plan to let the Aurors know from there."
"Why aren't you with the rest of them then?" Sirius asked with narrowed eyes as he shrugged on a tunic. "Why can I see your room?"
"We got-" He paused, thinking of the right word. "separated from Filch."
"And how, exactly, did that happen?"
"Harry blew him into a wall." Neville supplied cheerfully. "It was brilliant."
Harry cringed as Daphne and Tracey groaned into their hands. "That's the gist of it." He muttered, before holding up the sheathed sword for Sirius to see. "We also have the Sword of Gryffindor, too."
Sirius made a choking noise as he buttoned up a doublet, and Amelia quickly swept into the image, patting, and rubbing Sirius's back. "You can't be serious, Harry." She said, peering into the mirror over his shoulder. "That sword has been lost for over a thousand years."
"I pulled it out of a painting that Ser Cadogan showed me."
"Ser Cadogan? The Knight that guards the Divination corridor?" She asked, disbelievingly.
Harry nodded and passed the mirror to Daphne, before tossing the sheathed weapon onto his bed. He pushed past everyone in his room and quickly made his way to the stand with his armour. His fingers danced over the diamond, quilted patterning of the gambeson before lifting it up and over, dumping it on the bed alongside the sword. The Mithril chainmail glinted in the moonlight, and it made a soft tinkling noise as he lifted it off the stand.
"Harry – that's Mithril!" Tracey gasped. "You never said your chainmail was bloody Mithril!"
"His chainma-" Amelia and Sirius's voices called from the mirror, only for Sirius to start bellowing. "Harry James Potter, don't you dare put that armour on, young man!"
For the first time in his life, Harry ignored Sirius, and threw his coat off, letting it pool around his feet. He quickly shimmied the chainmail shirt on, shifting it this way and that as it settled on his shoulders. It hung open on his left side, and Harry quickly twisted to tie it securely – there were six leather ties, all running down his side from hip to just below his armpit. When he got to the last one, it was Neville that stepped up and fastened it without a word.
"Harry!" Sirius called, and Harry glanced up to a wincing Daphne who was chewing on her lips. "Harry, I swear-"
"Or what, Sirius?" Harry snapped finally. "Whoever is releasing Ruhxu has someone down there – what part of that don't you get? By the time Amelia gets here, with enough Aurors, and a Parselmouth – oh yeah, we found the entrance, by the way – they could be dead!"
"You are a child!" Sirius bellowed, and even from here, Harry thought he could feel the waves of magic rolling off of the mirror.
"I am – and you raised me to do what's right. This is what's right!" He snapped, pointing to a nearby table that Daphne could place the mirror down on, which she hurried to do. With Neville finished tying the chainmail into place, Harry pulled the gambeson over his head, groaning as its weight settled on his shoulders.
Unlike the chainmail, the gambeson only had a pair of small buckles on each side, which he quickly sorted himself. After that, he quickly snatched up a hair-tie and put his hair up in a knot at the back of his head – it would do no good to have his hair flying this way and that.
"Harry," Sirius tried, his voice softer now. "Please – wait for Amelia to get there."
"I'm going to show Lockhart where the entrance is, if he hasn't already bolted, that is. If I manage to get it open, all I'll do is try and clear the way of anything needing a Parselmouth – I'll try and keep it open behind me."
"Are none of you going to stop him?" Sirius demanded, and when Harry glanced at the mirror, he saw his godfather glancing up and down at the mirror as he ran – he recognised the mountain range beyond the Black Lake in the background; evidently, he'd already apparated to Hogwarts.
"I'd like to see you stop him when he sets his mind to something." Tracey muttered, folding her arms across her chest. Neither Daphne nor Neville said anything – the latter already helping him attach his vambraces. Harry flicked his wand in and out of its holster, making sure the armour didn't restrict it.
With the vambraces secured, the last piece of his armour was the gorget. Neville quickly set it around his throat and fastened it securely; the cold of the metal just barely ghosting his throat, with naught but his doublet acting as a barrier between them. He turned around and picked his sword from the wall mount, the long leather buckle dangling lazily back and forth.
It wasn't a fancy sword – just one he'd found in the armoury of Arpton. A simple, steel, hand-and-a-half sword with a wolfs head pommel with onyx eyes. He glanced back to the Sword of Gryffindor on his bed, and quickly threaded the belt through that scabbard too, both swords sitting side by side on his left hip as he tied the belt around his waist.
He quickly knelt and pulled the dagger from his boot and slid it into the sheath at the small of his back before looking up at the mirror, Sirius was railing against the closed gate of Hogwarts. The muted cracks of the arriving Aurors carrying through into his room.
It was on the tip of his tongue – something he could say, that would make it all better, that would make Sirius understand why he was doing what he was doing. What could make him understand that if they wasted any more time, someone could lose their life somewhere in the castle tonight? Harry sighed and flicked his wand into his hand, levelling it at the mirror – a little push of magic, and the mirror darkened.
"Harry!" Tracey hissed, grabbing his arm. "You can't seriously be thinking of going into the Chamber!"
Harry looked at her and nodded once, his jaw set.
"You could die!" She cried, throwing her arms out and looking at Neville and Daphne. Harry glanced at the two of them out of the corners of his eyes – Neville's face was unreadable, and Daphne was staring at the floor and chewing on her thumb. "Someone tell him!"
"Harry," Neville began slowly, his voice rough as he stepped forward. "Tell me what you need me to do."
He smiled and quickly pulled Neville against him, wrapping his arms around him. The truth was, despite all he'd said to Sirius, he was terrified – he didn't want to enter the Chamber, or even try and get it open. He wanted to go down to the Great Hall and trust it would be resolved without him, but he couldn't do that; he wouldn't do that.
"I need you to meet Sirius, Amelia and the Aurors and bring them to the statue – can you do that for me?" He asked, pulling away from Neville.
"Of course." Neville nodded, stepping around him and moving to the door – he paused on the threshold and looked back at him. "Whatever happens, you'll be alright, Harry."
Harry nodded with a small, reluctant smile, before watching Neville dart through the common room, and out the door to the Common Room proper, the dull thud of the portrait marking his departure from Gryffindor Tower. Daphne appeared at his arm, wrapping it with her own as she placed her head on his shoulder.
"I don't want you to do this, Harry. This is far more dangerous than last year." She sniffed, picking her head up. "But you wouldn't be Harry if you didn't do it." She let go and angrily wiped her cheek.
"I might not even manage to get it." He said, moving to the door, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards, echoed by the clinking of his sword belt and chainmail. The two girls were quickly behind him, rushing through the small room and darting down the stairs after him.
He didn't bother to tip-toe around anything on his way through the Common Room on his way out – his armour would have made it far more difficult than it needed to be, though he avoided the strewn books where he could. As he ducked out of the portrait, with Daphne and Tracey on his heels, the voice of Cadogan gave him pause as he looked over his shoulder.
"My dear boy – it does this old Knight good to see you so outfitted for battle." The Knight said softly as the portrait swung shut with a soft click. "That this burden falls to you breaks my heart. Be true, be brave, and be ruthless this night."
"Thank you, Ser." Harry murmured, placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head slightly – it was something he'd seen the warriors at Arpton do on a number of occasions, and it felt right. Cadogan repeated the action before stepping from the frame, leaving the three of them at the top of the staircase.
He spun on his heel and immediately began to hurry down the stairs to the second floor. Halfway down, they spotted the retreating back of Professor Lockhart, sprinting down the last staircase and around the corner loaded with his luggage, many of his shirts and coats falling out from his hasty packing.
"I guess that answers that, then." Tracey scowled.
"Coward." Daphne spat, pushing from the bannister. "Come on!" She said, leading the charge to the statue.
They made it to the second floor with a renewed sense of urgency, sprinting all out as they entered the first corridor. They ran past the familiar doors and windows, leaving them as nothing more than blurs in their periphery before entering the Trophy Room itself.
It was much the same as it had been any other time they had arrived here, and the familiar whispering in the back of his mind returned as he passed Ravenclaw's statue. He came to a skidding halt just before Salazar, and he glared at Haju before ghosting his finger along his body.
"Who stirs Haju from slumber?" The snake hissed, blinking up at him. Harry chewed on his cheek and began to pace back and forth, his hands on his hips as he tried to think of the right response.
"The Heir of Slytherin." He tried after a moment, growling when nothing worked. His magic began to coil. It was stupid that he was standing before the entrance now – there were adults that were supposed to handle this, after all, that's what adults were for, not a child. "Open, damn you!" He snapped, kicking the shins of Salazar.
"Harry!" Tracey said, stepping in front of him. "Calm down!"
"Calm down? There's someone down there, Tracey, and this stupid thing won't," He snapped, brushing past the girl, and balling his fist, feeling his magic wrapping itself around his hand. "Open!" He yelled, punching the statue, hissing as he felt the skin on a knuckle break. He turned around, glaring at the broken skin, and shaking his hand.
He sucked air between his teeth and paced away slowly. "How am I supposed to be calm right now?"
"Harry, look!" Daphne called, pointing to the spot where he'd bled on the statue – he stepped closer, his eyes wide as the blood was absorbed by the stone.
"The Old Blood answers true – the Chamber is opened." Haju hissed as the statue sank into the floor, revealing a dark staircase hidden in the wall. Harry blinked dumbly as he looked between the entrance and his two friends.
"We did it." He mumbled. "We actually did it."
"I don't believe it…" Tracey agreed quietly. Slowly, Harry approached the threshold and ran his hand over the smooth stone bricks that made up the wall – they were damp, slicked with warm droplets, and a glowing lichen similar to what they had found last year. It pulsed gently.
"I need the two of you to go and look after Hermione for me." He said, staring into the darkness of the staircase. Even with the lichen on the walls, it seemed to absorb light, with only an inky abyss waiting for him. He nodded to himself as he pursed his lips. "I'm going to try and open anything between here and wherever they need to go."
"You can't be serious – we're going with you!" Tracey snapped furiously.
"Harry-" Daphne said, and he finally turned to look at her. Their eyes locked, his emerald green meeting her ice blue. In that moment, he had never felt more desperate or fearful. There was every chance he was walking to his death at the bottom of the staircase, and he needed to make sure Hermione would be alright. "Tracey," Daphne said slowly, nodding at him as she grabbed at Tracey's wrist. "Let's do as he says." She sniffed; her eyes shiny and voice thick.
"You-" Tracey began, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Damn you, Potter." She growled, throwing her arms around his neck. "You come back, so I can kill you myself." She ordered, and Harry patted her on the back, smiling into her hair.
The moment Tracey released him; Daphne had him in a crushing embrace, one of the few hugs he'd been given by her. Her shoulders trembled slightly, but other than that, she was silent. "It'll be alright, Daphne." He murmured, squeezing her around the shoulders.
"You don't know that." She whispered.
"I don't, but I have to do this." He said softly, breathing in deeply.
"I know." She answered him, pulling away reluctantly. As she moved away, he saw just how red her eyes were, and the clear tear tracks running down her cheeks. She scrubbed at her cheeks furiously with the base of her hands and cleared her throat. "You come back – once Tracey's killed you, its my turn, and then it'll be Hermione's." She nodded.
He grinned as he backed up into the space beyond the statue, only for his stomach to suddenly plummet as the statue began to rise from the floor. He darted forward, trying to pull it back down, but up and up it went. "No, no, no, no!" He yelled. "Stay open! Haju! Stay open!"
There was no response, other than for Daphne and Tracey's panicked shouts from the other side, both of them trying their best to keep the statue down. Just before his fingers became trapped, he let go, breathing heavily into the darkness as his eyes darted around. There was a deep, echoing boom, and then, there was nothing – no sound but for his breathing, and no light but for the pulsing, strange lichen.
He turned on the spot and flicked his wand into his hand, whispering a quiet Lumos, which lit the small area up. There was no way but down, and so it was down he went. He picked his steps carefully, the harsh, white light from the tip of his wand holding the darkness at bay as he inched his way down the tight spiral.
Down, and down he went, until the neat stone bricks gave way to rough, damp rock. Small insects skittered away from him as the light from his wand illuminated them. There were dozens upon dozens in his descent, ranging from quick worm-like creatures, to ones with far too many legs and pincers. In the darkness, they clicked and clacked, and more than one squealed as he stepped on them.
He gave them no further thought as he came to the bottom of the staircase. It was a dark cavern, with sharp rocks above him, and large stalactites hanging dangerously on either side of a narrow path. The steady drip, drip of water echoed throughout the chamber and small beams of moonlight filtered in through high cracks in the ceiling – he had no idea what part of the castle he was under.
The snapping of bone made him wince as it echoed throughout the chamber, and he quickly glanced down to see the floor was littered with all sorts of bones. There were lizards, bats, birds, all sorts. The stench was disgusting, the amalgamation of a thousand years of decay, and the air was thick and heavy, making him gag.
There was a louder skittering noise further in the chamber, and the sound of many feet moving this way and that. He looked up, holding his wand out before him as his eyes swept the darkness. He moved forward cautiously, his wand at the ready.
Stepping around the larger piles of skeletons was easier than he'd initially thought it would be, and he quickly made it to the first bend in the path, gagging at the clear remains of a Centaur as he turned away. The carcass was old, hundreds of years, perhaps, and horribly disfigured, but it was still recognisable enough. He hurried past it, purposely ignoring how his stomach lurched violently.
He continued through the cavern, staggering to a stop at the sight of the largest snakeskin he'd ever seen. It was huge, reaching up to his chest, and was almost twice as wide as he was tall! His eyes trailed the length, and he grimaced at just how long it was. How the bloody fuck had it managed to move about the school without anybody spotting it?
The ground beneath his boots began to slope steadily downwards, and before he knew it, he came across a set of stairs caves out of the rock. It was a steep incline, and the steps themselves were thin and uneven; more than once, Harry had to pause and hold his arms out, lest he tip over and fall the rest of the way.
He made his way down carefully, and once at the bottom, there was a large metal door with a large Mithril serpent wound delicately around its edge. The serpent rose from the door slowly, its large, ruby eyes staring at him as it leaned closer, an elegant hood flaring behind its head. "Who approaches the Chamber of Secrets?"
Harry cleared his throat roughly. "Harry, of the House of Potter."
"The House of Potter – and a Speaker."
"I wish to enter the Chamber of Secrets – will you let me pass?"
The snake moved left and right, its metal tongue darting out to taste the air, its unblinking gaze never straying from his own. "What secret do you seek?"
"No secret – I enter because I have to." He replied, his wand trembling in his grip.
"You are young to dare enter."
"I have no choice."
"There is always a choice." The snake hissed, moving a little further from the door. "What do you think you will find, beyond the door?"
"A Basilisk." He whispered. "Ruhxu."
"Ah, the guardian of the Chamber – long has she slumbered, only to be woken by the unworthy." The snake murmured slowly; its metallic tongue flickered out and tickled his cheek. He hissed as it drew blood and brought his hand to his face. "You have the Old Blood – you may enter." It said, retreating to the door and slithered around the edge of the metal barrier. There were a number of heavy clunking noises, and finally, it swung open.
Harry entered slowly, walking down the much more well-made steps as sconces of Magefyre lit up the high-vaulted chamber with their flickering blue flames. He gave a startled gasp when the first stone serpent head was brought to life, and for a moment, he thought himself dead. When he managed to suck in a shuddering breath, he watched as others were revealed, all funnelling water through their mouths.
The room was long, vaulted, and eerie – it smelled of damp and mould, and there wasn't a single dry surface anywhere he could see. The deep, thundering boom of the door closing behind him made him look over his shoulder. He murmured a quiet, "Nox." And flicked his wand away.
He moved slowly, with careful steps as he looked around the room. He passed pillars as thick as the Whomping Willow, all with intricate, serpentine patterning running up into the darkness above. Ever onwards, his feet moved, moving toward the large statue at the far end of Salazar himself, or, more specifically, his face.
It was half submerged in a pool of murky water, and he grimaced at the way it lapped lazily at the stone tiles. Just before the waters edge, however, was the tiny form of a first year. His pace quickened, and as he got closer, he recognised the damp, red hair of Ginny Weasley, her little black book soaked and left discarded at her side.
He looked around, wincing as two large columns of Magefyre burst into existence on either side of Salazar's face, lighting up the room. He blinked the harsh dots from his vision as he peered into the darkness around him. There were passages leading in all sorts of directions, all of them feeling as dark and foreboding as the next.
Her skin was pale and cold to the touch and her chest barely rose and fell with each breath she took, her short puffs of breath misted above her face in tiny clouds. "Come on, Ginny, let's get you out of here." He murmured, trying to lift her arm, but it was as if she were heavier than even Hagrid. Her arm didn't so much as budge, even as he felt his face turn red and purple from the effort.
He dropped to the floor beside her, panting from the effort. He groaned, staring up at the dark ceiling until he finally pushed himself back up. He stood slowly, looking around – there was little doubt that Ginny was being held in place magically, if he could stop that, he could start thinking of a way of getting her back up to the school, and he could let the Aurors do their jobs.
At the thought of the Aurors, he also made a mental note to avoid stumbling across the Basilisk.
"She won't wake." A soft voice called, and Harry spun to face the newcomer.
There, leaning against a pillar, was a boy of perhaps sixteen, with handsome features and black, wavy coiffed hair in Slytherin robes. He was dressed in the Muggle-born uniform, with a smart vest, shirt, tie, and the Slytherin cloak. On the lapel of his cloak, sat the familiar Prefects badge – he didn't recognise the boy though.
"Who are you?" He asked, his eyes narrowing. "I assume you brought her down here?"
"My name is Tom Riddle – I'm afraid she brought herself down here." Riddle answered, inclining his head to the girl between them. Tom moved forward slowly; his hands clasped before him.
"You were the one who turned Hagrid in…" Harry frowned, recognising the name. "I've seen your award to the school in the Trophy Room – how are you still so-"
"Young?" Riddle asked, tilting his head to the side as his dark eyes swept over him. "Truth be told, I'm not truly here. I will be, soon, however."
"Ghosts aren't real." Harry said, flicking his wand into his hand and levelling it at Tom. "You're lying."
"Oh, I assure you, I'm being nothing but honest. I'm merely a memory, preserved in that diary right there, for fifty years." Riddle smiled, gesturing to the dark book by Ginny's right hand. "Quite bothersome, I confess – I find it quite… liberating, to be able to move freely once again." He added, wandering closer as he looked around.
"I guess you'll find it less liberating when you find yourself eaten by the Basilisk." Harry muttered, fingering the hilt of his wand as he looked around carefully.
"Oh, you mean Ruhxu – no, she won't come until she's called."
"How do you-"
"I thought we could have a conversation, after all, I've waited so very long to meet you."
"You're a Parselmouth – it was you? Attacking the students?"
Riddle pursed his lips and clasped his hands at the small of his back. Harry's eyes narrowed. "In a way." The Slytherin boy said slowly, teasingly. "You're closer than you think to the truth – but can you work it out?"
Harry glanced down at Ginny, and his eyes darted to the book at her side. "The diary."
"Oh, you are a smart one, aren't you? I'm impressed." Tom grinned handsomely, the Magefyre flickering in his dark, onyx eyes. "I must say, it is refreshing to speak to someone with some intelligence."
"What did you do to her?"
"Oh, a little bit of this, and little bit of that." Riddle hummed pleasantly. "Truthfully, I did nothing that Ginny didn't wish to. She bared her soul to me, and in so doing, we end up here." He shrugged, glancing around the room once more.
"You're using her." Harry scowled.
"Everyone uses someone!" Riddle snapped, his face twisting in his sudden flash of anger. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, and the Slytherin Prefect drew himself up with a calming breath before straightening his cloak, flicking a speck of dust from his sleeve. "I listened to her hopes and dreams, and I became her friend. I simply gave her a little nudge here and there."
"So, what, it was Ginny carrying out all the attacks? You just nudged her into killing Justin, is that it?"
"Oh, that was quite by accident, I assure you – but no," Tom sighed, turning to face the statue of Salazar. "That was rather unfortunate, though I understand that you were held responsible in the end?"
"For a time." Harry replied, keeping his wand trained on Riddle's back.
"It must have been terrible, having everyone whisper as you walked past, glaring at you from their darkened corners."
"I managed."
"Oh, I bet you did. Nothing less than astounding, the way you rely on those friends of yours – a shame about that Muggle-born. Ginny fought fiercely against that one."
Harry felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck as his magic roared. The blood pumped in his ears, and the stone tile beneath his feet cracked loudly. "That was you." Harry snarled, feeling his muscles tense beneath the armour.
"Oh, yes." Tom said, looking back at him over his shoulder with a cold smirk. "That was me. I wanted to see what made you tick, and you didn't disappoint, did you." Tom continued, turning to face him fully – a wand appearing in his hand.
Harry blinked before sending a flurry of spells toward the boy – unlike in the duels, he didn't hold back. He released everything he had, barely a heartbeat between them. Each spell, Tom deflected, high up into the ceiling, or off to the side where they crashed into the dark walls with a sickening whip-crack sound that echoed for several seconds. Those he couldn't deflect, like the Reium spell, he simply conjured a spherical bubble that flashed golden with each impact.
"You won't be needing that any longer, I think." Tom sighed, making a slashing motion with his wand – a second later, Harry scrambled for his wand as it was yanked from his grip. "There, now we can continue like civilised wizards." Riddle said, holding Harry's wand in his left hand.
Harry scowled at the boy across from him. "You know you won't get away with this. The Aurors will know where the entrance is by now."
"Have a Parselmouth on call, do they?" Tom asked, sarcastically. "One with the Old Blood?"
Harry said nothing, instead, he simply ground his teeth together as his hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"Or," Tom asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him. "Are you going to do something? I must say, I'm almost tempted to let you try – after all, your exploits have made me most anxious to meet you."
"What interest am I to you?" He growled, his magic tingling up and down his arms.
"Well, it's funny you should ask." Tom said slowly, inching closer to the girl on the ground – he nudged her shoulder with the toe of his shoe. "You see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole fascinating history – it seems she's rather the expert on The-Boy-Who-Lived." Riddle grimaced at the moniker that Harry hated, and he watched as Riddle's eyes darted to his forehead, where the thin scar lay just above his eye.
"I wonder what might have happened if it had been you who came into possession of my diary. Would I have gained your trust so easily – poor, lonely, feared Harry Potter." Riddle said, an ugly sneer on his face. "I had hoped to get little Ginny here to slip my diary into your room, or your bag, but by that point, she was far too… attached."
"If you hurt her…"
"Oh please." Tom scoffed. "I have your wand, and as archaic and barbaric as your other weapons are, you wouldn't get to me quickly enough. Tell me, how was it, hearing of Hagrid's pet Acromantula? Did it shock you?"
"No more than finding out I was hearing a Basilisk." Harry said slowly.
"Yes, I imagine after a Basilisk, everything else pales in comparison. I must say, I was rather glad my plan to frame the witless oaf worked as well as it was – though Dumbledore didn't buy it for a second."
"Oh, I bet he saw right through you." Harry chuckled darkly. "You really thought you could get away with it while Dumbledore was around?"
"Oh, but I did, Harry – or are you forgetting my little award? Dippet made me Head Boy the following year, an outstanding example of all the House Traits, I believe he called me. Dumbledore was forced to keep only an annoyingly close eye on me after that, so I closed the Chamber – for a time. I figured it would only be a matter of time until I could continue my work, all in the name of my ancestor; the great Salazar Slytherin himself."
Harry laughed – he didn't know why, but he did. It started as a low chuckle before devolving into a full fit. He doubled over, clutching his knees as he forced himself to remain standing. When he finally looked up, Tom was scowling at him, his nostrils flaring with each furious breath. "I'm sorry," He said eventually. "But you've got the wrong Salazar – if you'd read the journals I have, you'd know he couldn't give a shit about blood." He paused, the last chuckles fading away. "You just wanted to kill."
"Perhaps." Tom shrugged, "But killing Mudbloods no longer interests me. My target for the last several months has only been you, Harry, everyone else has just been collateral damage."
A lead weight settled in the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I'm here – going to finish what Voldemort couldn't?" He said, raising his chin defiantly. "He's had two chances now."
"You know," Riddle began, tapping his wand to his chin. "It's funny you mention that name – humour me, if you will."
"Kiss my arse." Harry muttered, only for his hands to leap to his throat as Tom appeared before him, his hand wrapped around his neck and lifting him bodily from the floor. The next thing he knew, he was slammed against a nearby pillar, his vision dancing from the impact as the edges of his vision dimmed.
"Humour me." Tom hissed in his ear, levelling the tip of his wand to Harry's neck as he lowered him to the floor. Riddle pressed his larger body against his own, and he knew he wouldn't be able to shimmy his dagger loose from his back.
"Fuck you." Harry wheezed, gulping in what air he could as he swung with his fist. He connected with nothing, only for the wand at his throat to light his body on fire. He screamed, hoarsely as magic flowed through him. His arms and legs thrashed, but he couldn't move from where Tom held him. After what felt like an eternity, the pain disappeared, and he sagged against the larger boy. He groaned, and he could smell burning ozone – his vision cleared just enough for him to make out the faintest wisps of smoke trailing from his hands.
"How is it you survived, a mere baby, while the greatest wizard of all time was defeated? Left with nothing more than a scar, while Voldemort's powers were destroyed?" Riddle shouted in Harry's ear.
Harry winced at the noise as his head throbbed, and Harry glanced up into Tom's eyes, which were glowing an eerie red around his pupils. "Why do you care?" Harry wheezed, dropping to his knees as Riddle released him. He massaged his throat while he coughed into the large, damp tiles. "He was after you, you prick."
"Voldemort," Riddle said softly, kneeling down to whisper in Harry's ear in a voice cold enough to chill his very bones. "Is my past, present, and future…"
Harry glanced up, watching in dread as the words formed in the air as Tom used his wand to write out his name.
Tom Marvolo Riddle
He watched as Riddle slashed his wand through the air, and the letters rearranged themselves.
I Am Lord Voldemort
There, hovering in the air, burning angrily as Harry remained on his knees, stunned – he looked over at the smirking boy. "Impossible." He murmured, quietly.
"Oh, I assure you, young Harry – it's quite possible. Did you really think I'd use my filthy Muggle father's name? A man who abandoned me before I was born, all because my mother was a witch? No – I fashioned myself a new name; one I knew all wizards would one day fear." Riddle – Voldemort – hissed, gripping Harry's jaw tightly.
"Not everyone is afraid of you." He spat, wrenching his jaw free of Riddle's grip. "You'll just be another footnote in history." He said, pushing himself to his feet as Tom began to walk away, back to where Ginny lay.
"I think you're confusing the two of us, Harry Potter – for you see, only one of us will be leaving this room alive."
"Kill me then, you fucking coward!" Harry snapped. "Be a man and get it over with!"
"Oh, I think not – after all, what greater irony is there, than watching a Parselmouth be killed – by a snake?" Riddle laughed coldly, glancing over his shoulder, the sickeningly crimson eyes glowing in dim light of the cavernous room. Tom turned to stare at the large statue of Salazar's face and began to hiss loudly. "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"
Dread pooled in his stomach as the mouth of the statue ground open, and something stirred within the dark recesses. Harry slammed his eyes shut, his breath coming in quick, panicked gasps as he heard the gargantuan snake begin to slither forward. He reached out with his magic, feeling the world around him, and slowly, the room began to take shape behind his eyelids.
He could feel the water running from the large, gaping maws of the snakes that lined the room, the stone tiles beneath his feet, and the gentle lapping of the water between Ginny and the Basilisk in the pool between them. He could feel the sickening void where Tom was standing, and the agony of the Basilisk.
"Ruhxu called. Ruhxu sleep. Ruhxu awakened." Ruhxu screamed, madly.
"Ruhxu, don't listen to him! Fight him!" Harry bellowed across the Chamber, and he felt the eyes of the Basilisk on him, even if he couldn't see them – thank Merlin.
"Speaker."
"You will kill this boy, I command it!" Riddle yelled, and a lance of magic lashed out from Tom and burrowed deeply into the King of Serpents, or Queen, in this case.
"R-Ruhxu, refuses!" The Basilisk howled, and Harry could feel the tremors beneath his boots as she thrashed around violently – a pillar was smashed to pieces, and the room trembled so much that for a moment, Harry thought he might topple over.
"I command it!" Tom shouted again, another lance of magic piercing through the Basilisk's mind, and as Harry watched, numbly, behind his eyelids, his heart began to hammer in his chest when the giant serpent suddenly stilled. No longer was there a voice, replaced instead, by a deep, menacing growl that did more to strike fear into him than anything ever before.
Nothing compared to that sound.
"Oh, fuck." Harry swore, spinning on his heel and sprinting to where he could feel the door to the Chamber. He sprinted down the room, his arms and legs pumping as hard as they could, the slow scraping noise of Ruhxu's large, sinuous body inching forward, taunting him, echoed throughout the chamber.
He took the steps two, three at a time as he ran up them, slamming his elbow into the door once, twice, three times in his panic. It didn't move a centimetre, and with his last try, he bounced off so much that he found himself rolling down the steps, his arms and legs aching as he pushed himself to his feet.
Harry got to his feet slowly, shaking his head as he kept his eyes closed. His magic whispered in the back of his mind and danced along his skin. He looked up, and he could see Ruhxu in his mind's eye, watching him as a predator watches its prey. She was huge, much larger than he, a mere boy of twelve.
With a grimace, he pulled his blade from its scabbard and held at his side in a two-handed grip, his feet spreading themselves apart as his breathing evened out. He nodded to himself tiredly – his body aching from the tumble down the stairs.
Ruhxu remained completely still, but Harry could sense the tension in her coiled muscles. All of that energy, all of that power, just waiting to lash out at him in one singular, devastating attack.
His right foot shifted, and a second later, his magic screamed for him to move. Without hesitation, he spun to the side, feeling his gambeson flair out around his knees with the movement, and brought his sword down in one mighty cut.
There was nothing for a moment, and then the tell-tale slice of flesh and the resistance against his swing told him he'd made his mark. Ruhxu screamed – it was no longer coherent and felt like a million shards of glass were being raked across the inside of his skull.
He staggered away as she thrashed, taking out another column as she did – somehow, and he didn't quite know how, he knew he'd blinded an eye.
Glancing down at his sword, he grimaced at the inky blackness that was spreading itself over the blade – it would be useless now. He tossed the blade down and quickly unbuckled his belt, sliding it from around his waist as he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor free from its scabbard.
The blade rang beautifully against Ruhxu's screams and cries of agony. He dropped the scabbard, and the belt, to the floor, spinning out of the way of her thrashing tail. He swung the blade at her hard scales, grinning as it cut the hard flesh easily, with none of the corruption that his own blade reeked of.
Ruhxu stopped her thrashing after that, and he felt her lone, furious eye staring at him. He looked back, making sure to only use his magic to see the world around him – he would not fall to her gaze. If this was how he would meet the Gods, he would do so with a weapon in his hand and make her earn it.
There was a moment of stillness – something unspoken passing between him and the beast before him. Regardless if she killed him, he had marked her for life, and in a strange way, he felt that respect pass between them. His jaw twitched, and he breathed in shakily. He was cornered, trapped between a pillar and one of the pools of water that lined the room.
Just as he felt her rear back, a deadly, incoherent hiss whispering past Ruhxu's lips, there was a tremendous burst of magic above him. He risked a glance upward, and if he hadn't already had his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he was sure he would have been blinded by the inferno.
He heard her before he saw her, her song making his heart feel twice its size. His aches and pains washed away, and he felt strength fill his muscles. He grinned as she burst from the inferno, her powerful wings beating powerfully as she threw herself at Ruhxu's remaining eye, tearing at it with her hooked beak and sharp talons.
Ruhxu screamed and thrashed once more as Clara kept up her assault. He could make out nothing more than impressions of the world around him, but he could see enough to spot the gore that followed Clara's attack – blood and ichor spewing from the wound and coating the pillar next to the Basilisk's large, arrow shaped head.
He risked opening his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the bloody wrecks of Ruhxu's once deadly eyes. Bloody gushed from the wounds, trailing down the sides of her face in thick, cascading rivers. Her left eye was sliced cleanly in half, and her right had been reduced to nothing more than an empty socket.
Grinning, he looked to Clara, her crimson feathers a welcome sight, while her golden tailfeathers blazed powerfully, alive with flame so hot, it was blue around the edges. He could feel the Phoenix in the back of his mind, her indignation and righteous fury at the Basilisk having dared to attack him. He tried to show her just how much he loved and appreciated her coming to his rescue.
He glanced at Riddle, who had remained where he had summoned Ruhxu from, an ugly scowl on his face as he glared at him. "You're next, Tom!" He called, levelling his blade at the boy.
Riddle laughed coldly. "We'll see."
Harry glanced back over his shoulder at Ruhxu, just as Clara was shaken loose. The Basilisk launched itself in the Phoenixes direction, her powerful jaws slamming shut just behind the magical bird as Clara banked and weaved among the pillars, the flickering Magefyre of the chamber lighting up her belly.
He flexed his fingers around the hilt of the blade and licked his lips, his eyes taking in Ruhxu's large form. Her body was so wide, and simply so huge that he was outmatched on that alone. His best chance would be attacking her head, but she kept it so high off the ground, he had no realistic way of reaching it.
Something slammed into him from behind, throwing him down the room, bouncing along the stone tiles until he crashed painfully into the base of a pillar. He groaned, scrambling to his feet as he tried to shake the dizziness away. The sword, which he'd remarkably been able to keep a hold of, scraped and clanged against the stone.
With his vision mostly clear, he spotted the whipping and thrashing of Ruhxu's tail – that must have been what struck him! He nodded to himself as he watched Clara dive-bomb Ruhxu's head, leaving deep gashes and ugly, bubbling, boiled skin in her wake.
Harry sprinted forward, sword held in his left hand as magic filled his arms and legs and leapt. He soared through the air, higher than otherwise would have been possible. His legs continued pumping, and his arms swung wildly.
He collided painfully with the scales on Ruhxu's body, and for a terrifying moment, the Basilisk went completely still before she twisted to stare down at him, her forked tongue darting out just before her maw opened just enough to reveal the sickening, onyx fangs covered in venom.
With wide eyes, he watched Ruhxu inch ever closer, and he finally took a chance, swinging the Sword of Gryffindor at her snout. The blade hacked off a chunk of flesh, and Ruhxu jerked her head back. Harry leapt once again, further along her body, only this time, he managed to grip one of the many spines along her body, and sunk the blade into her back, down to the hilt.
The Basilisk screamed once again, thrashing, and rolling from side to side. Harry yanked the blade free and was forced to leap from the snake as the ground rushed up to meet him. He cleared the snake just in time, rolling along the stone floor painfully as Ruhxu thrashed.
Clara cawed shrilly and dived at the snake, ghosting along her length, just high enough for her long tailfeathers to drag along the serpent's entire body. His jaw clenched, and he gripped his head with his free hand as the beast screamed in agony.
Harry scrambled forward, leaping at the snake with the sword raised above his head as he brought it down powerfully on her side. The blade sank deeply, and blood pulsed from the wound. He didn't wait before bringing his blade down again, and again, all over her body – he needed to wear her down, make her too tired to continue to fight.
Ruhxu thrashed and flailed her body this way and that, slamming her body against the floor, and the many pillars that remained standing. Clara would alternate between burning the serpent and ripping and tearing at the flesh with her beak and claws.
This continued for minutes – or perhaps it was hours. By the time he stumbled backwards, the Sword of Gryffindor coated in the thick blood of the Basilisk, his arms felt like lead and his chest heaved painfully.
Ruhxu, despite her many wounds, rose dangerously and opened her maw as she glared down at him. Her body tensed, before darting forward. Just as she was about to strike him, Clara appeared, sinking her claws into the Basilisk's destroyed snout, and lifting it with powerful beats of her wings.
It was only a second, but it was all he needed. With what little strength remained, he thrust the blade into the roof of Ruhxu's mouth. He could feel bone, muscle, and everything else in between give way beneath the deadly tip of the blade, until it punched free out the top of her skull.
Amongst Ruhxu's screams were his own. In her thrashing to be free herself from Clara, the Basilisk had jerked her head to the side, and a fang had punched all the way through his forearm – breaking off against the bones in his forearm.
Harry stumbled backwards as Clara released the fresh corpse, the forked tongue of the Basilisk hanging limply out the side of her mouth as she breathed her last. Harry stumbled backward, falling to the floor limply as he felt the venom burn its way through his body.
He'd read a little about Basilisk's over the last months – there was precious little on the creatures outside of Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts. One thing was certain though; Basilisk venom was deadly and acted quickly. Unlike regular snakes, who used their venom to hunt – Basilisk's used it to help digest their food. The warped remains of the Centaur flickered before his eyes.
His body felt like it was on fire – it was a pain he had never felt before and wouldn't wish on anyone. He clamped his jaw tight and scrambled over to where Ginny lay – if it was possible, she was even paler than before, colder even as he ghosted the back of his knuckles against her hand. He propped his head against her thigh, panting as his eyes rolled into the back of his head momentarily.
He felt hot and cold all at the same time, and the slightest movement caused agony to shoot throughout his body. His breathing was weak, ragged. Tom appeared before him, smirking down at him. "It seems I underestimated you – no matter, Basilisk venom works quickly. Soon, Harry Potter will be nothing more than a memory."
Harry sucked in a shuddering breath as he felt a wand pressed to his chin, tilting his head up slightly. A pair of crimson eyes stared down at him through the encroaching darkness. His entire body trembled as he licked his lips.
So, this is how it felt to die.
He wanted to weep, to thrash against the injustice of it all – what would Sirius think, or Remus? What would Neville do in his absence – or Daphne and Tracey? He knew coming down here meant he was possibly walking to his death, but he had no choice – someone had been in danger, and if he hadn't acted, there was no telling what would have happened.
And yet, he had still failed.
He coughed, and he felt something bubble from his lips and run down the side of his face. Tom smirked down at him. "And so, it ends – the last line of House Potter, fading into the annals of history. Here lies The-Boy-Who-Died, bested by the greatest Sorcerer of all time."
His magic curled around him comfortingly, like a blanket. He felt warm, safe. It whispered in his mind, on the edge of hearing as his arm dropped to the stone beneath his body like a lead weight. He no longer felt that same pain from before; now, he simply wanted to rest – to close his eyes for five minutes.
His eyes fell on the Basilisk fang in his arm, and the book that lay off to the side. He grinned to himself as the blood continued to leak from his lips – one last hurrah before the end.
With what little strength he had left, he reached over and gripped the fang, and ripped it from his arm – his doublet was soaked with his blood, and shockingly, he felt no pain. He reached out a hand, and summoned the black book to him, slamming the tip of the fang into its leather cover with all that remained of his strength. The panicked yell of Tom reached his ears, as if through water, and he laughed to himself.
An impossible light burst from Tom's chest, and Harry continued stabbing. Something trickled around his fingers – it was thick, viscous, and sticky, but still, he held onto the fang tightly. More shafts of light burst from Riddle, and the boy screamed into the darkness as his handsome features bubbled and boiled. With one last brilliant crescendo of light, Tom Riddle burst into nothing more than flecks of light, gently wafting to the floor.
He slumped back against Ginny's thigh as he coughed, the world spinning for a moment as Clara swept down to land next to him, her soft trills making him smile as she nudged his cheek with her beak. He tried to say something – anything – but he was so exhausted. He blinked sadly at her as tears ran down his cheeks.
Ginny stirred behind him, and she shifted behind him as she sat up, causing a pitiful moan to whisper past his lips. "W-where, oh!" She gasped, no doubt seeing the Basilisk corpse. A moment later, he felt her hands on his forehead, sweeping back the hair that had come loose from the knot at the back of his head. "Harry?"
He nodded, regretting the action almost immediately as tears began to form in Clara's dark eyes. His eyes widened as he watched the Phoenix bend to cry into his wound. He thrashed painfully as the salty tears dripped into the open wound, but the bird – ever loyal and caring – held his arm firmly in place with her talons.
The feeling of his skin, muscle, and bone knitting itself back together was wholly unpleasant. He whimpered in his agony, and barely held himself from biting through his tongue. Ginny held him in place, quickly shifting to her knees and holding either side of his head in her grip. The flames of Clara's tail flickered and died, leaving behind nothing but golden feathers, and she sagged against him as the agony subsided.
He groaned as he sat up, leaning to the side, and hacking up a mouthful of blood and saliva that he spat unceremoniously on the stone tiles. He blinked as his vision cleared before scrambling out of Ginny's grip and scooping the barely breathing Clara into his arms. He rocked her back and forth as she blinked tiredly up at him, his thumb gently stroking the soft feathers around her face. "You stupid, stupid bird – thank you." He croaked, pressing a kiss to the crown of feathers on top of her head.
He glanced at Ginny, watching as she paled under his gaze. "I'm s-sorry." She murmured, tears trailing down her cheeks. "I-I couldn't stop him."
"He's gone." He breathed, staring at the book that sat in a small puddle of thick, black ink. "He's gone." He sighed, closing his eyes as he hugged Clara close to him – he leaned back and found a pillar behind him.
"I'll be expelled." Ginny sniffed – she was closer now, next to him. How long had he been sat there, Clara curled up against his chest with his eyes closed?
"I suspect you'll be fine." He murmured quietly, opening his eyes slowly. "Here, can you hold Clara for a moment? There's some things I need to get." He offered his arms to Ginny, who nodded quickly and scooped the Phoenix into her arms, her face pale as she gently stroked the feathers along her neck. He could sense Clara's discontent at being handled by the witch, but he needed to move.
He stumbled his way to Ruhxu first – blood had pooled around her body, leaking from her wounds. Her wrecked eyes stared back at him as he approached. He managed to lift her mouth open just enough to wrench the Sword of Gryffindor free before wiping the blade on what remained of her snout.
He wandered the room, eventually finding his discarded sword and belt. He placed Gryffindor's sword on the ground for a moment as he fastened his sword belt around his waist and sheathed the legendary blade only moments later. His own sword was wrecked – the pristine steel was dark, stained with corruption spider webbing all along the blade from where the gore of Ruhxu's eye had marked it. He would need a new one. He sheathed that sword too.
When he returned to Ginny and Clara, he spotted his wand for the first time, laying on the wet slabs, forgotten. He summoned it to his hand and quickly flicked it into its holster. He figured that Ginny had found her own wand somewhere if the one clutched in a white-knuckled grip by the girl was anything to judge by.
The last two things he needed were both next to one another. The fang and the diary – he picked both up delicately, before wrapping the fang in the pages of the book. It would do little good to catch himself on the sharp tooth, only to poison himself again. Clara wouldn't be able to heal him again – in fact, he had never seen her so exhausted.
With everything gathered, he returned to the sniffling first year girl and scooped Clara out of her arms. "You looked after me, now it's my turn to look after you." He murmured to the Phoenix, who burrowed into his chest tiredly. He smiled down at her and shifted his grip a little as the youngest Weasley got to her feet.
"Come on." He said, looking at her. "We need to find a way out of here."
She nodded silently and shuffled after him, her eyes drooping to the stone tiles as she chewed on her bottom lip.
He checked the door first, kicking it with the toe of his boot – the dull thud echoing throughout the room loudly. He hissed a curse and made to turn around – perhaps there would be a secondary exit, something Ruhxu used to move throughout the castle grounds, for there was no possible way she could have emerged from the Trophy Room.
Halfway down the steps, the dull thuds and clangs of the door opening behind him made him pause. He turned on his heel slowly, watching as the Mithril serpent appeared, its red eyes staring at him as its forked tongue darted out. "The Chamber is yours." It decreed, and Harry felt a shiver run up his spine.
He wanted nothing to do with the damned thing ever again.
Slowly, Harry led the two of them out of the Chamber. His boots felt like they were filled with lead, but each step he took got him closer to the surface. On and on he plodded, Ginny at his heel the entire way as he led the two of them along the sloping path, ignoring the sound of the Weasley girl vomiting at the sight of the Centaur remains.
The two of them continued on, the crunching of ancient animal skeletons the only accompaniment to their journey. Perhaps he was simply used to the darkness, after having been stuck in the Chamber for who knew how long, but the passage to the spiral stairs seemed brighter, less foreboding and oppressive; moonlight still filtered through the large gaps in the rock.
They made their way up the tight spiral staircase, the familiar lichen pulsing with each step they took. Ginny only stumbled and slipped twice, catching herself before tumbling down into the cavern below with a frustrated huff and wet sniff.
His legs burned as they made it to the top, and the statue lowered itself without Harry having to do or say anything. He tried not to scowl at the masonry from its spot in the floor – why it couldn't have done that earlier, he didn't know, nor did he truly care in that moment. All he wanted was a bed.
The Trophy Room was empty, with not a soul to be found along the large corridor. They trudged their way along it, a small growl of frustration whispering past his lips as the familiar sensation began to tickle the back of his mind as he passed Rowena's statue.
He held Clara close as he stumbled down the stairs to the ground floor, leaning on the bannisters as he did. His eyes were heavy, and every step took more strength than he had left. Ginny helped, now that they could walk side-by-side, holding him up by his arm as his limbs trembled.
In the brighter light of the castle itself, he could see that he was absolutely covered in filth; caked in it, even. He didn't even want to think about how he smelled. Clara trilled softly into his chest and he grinned down at her as they stumbled from the last step.
There were people in the portraits now, whispering and pointing to the three of them as they slowly hobbled to the Great Hall – the closer he got, the more his right leg burned, and a noticeable limp soon had him slowing down to a crawling pace.
Eventually, after what felt like an age, they arrived before the heavy doors of the Great Hall – they were shut, but they could clearly hear the noise coming from within. Ginny darted from his side, and he stumbled for a moment, not quite realising just how much she was holding him up. She heaved the door open with her shoulder, and the voices fell silent.
The Hall was lit with a thousand or more candles, all floating steadily in the air. The staff were gathered around the High Table, while the students filled the room, the benches and tables having been pushed to the sides. Aisles of blankets and pillows littered the floor, and a collective gasp echoed throughout the room.
He raised his chin and hobbled forward as the staff pushed their way past the slowly forming crowd that appeared before him out of thin air. For the first time, he noticed Amelia at McGonagall's side – Daphne, Tracey, and Neville pushing their way to the front of the gathering of students.
"Mister Potter!" McGonagall cried; her eyes furious. "Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you're in?"
"Nothing worse than I've just gone through – the beast is dead." He answered her, glancing at his friends. "The Basilisk is dead, and Ginny is safe. The Chamber of Secrets is secure."
"A Basilisk?" Someone hissed from the crowd.
"No way Potter took on a Basilisk!"
"He looks like he did!"
"He's got two swords!"
"Merlin, is that his Phoenix in his arms?"
"Clara? Let me see!"
"Silence!" Snape bellowed as the volume in the room began to rise. Amelia swept forward, cupping his face, and checking him over with her eyes. He smiled up at her tiredly.
"Where's Sirius?" He asked, quietly.
"Looking for another entrance to the Chamber – somewhere the Basilisk might have entered and left from. He has a team of my best Aurors with him. He'll be glad to know you're safe, Harry." Amelia said, pressing a gentle kiss to his hair. "You had us so worried."
"It was a near thing, if not for Clara. She's exhausted." He muttered, leaning into the woman.
"Potter – you will show us to the entrance of the Chamber so that we can ascertain the true fate of this creature, and make sure it is disposed of properly." Snape's voice commanded from behind Amelia. Harry leaned around the woman and glared at him.
"If you think I'm going anywhere but to a bed for the next week, you're mistaken, Professor." He snapped. "Is Madame Pomfrey here?"
"Right here, Mister Potter." The Healer huffed, shoving her way towards him. She knelt down before him and swept her eyes over both himself and Clara. "I don't know much about creatures, young man, but I'll do my best to see to you both, hm?"
Harry just nodded and tossed the diary to the floor, the large Basilisk fang tumbling from its pages where a number of people scrambled away from it. "There's your proof, by the way. One Basilisk fang, pulled straight out of my arm." He grunted, holding up his bloody sleeve as proof. "There's a reason Clara's so wiped out."
"Harry…" Daphne murmured softly, stepping up to him with a hand over her mouth. He grimaced in her direction.
"I know." He said, tiredly.
"Come on, let's get you to that bed." Neville suggested, wrapping an arm around his waist as he turned him around slowly.
"Look at Potter acting the hero again – it's enough to make you sick." A familiar voice scoffed, and Harry found his earlier anger return. He shrugged out of Neville's grip and pulled his sword from its scabbard; in the warm, flickering light of the Hall, the corrupted metal looked somehow even worse than it had in the Chamber.
All around him, wands were levelled at him. He planted the tip of the blade against the stone before stamping on the flat of it, shattering the weapon. He tossed the useless remains at the feet of those around him. "Keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing about, Malfoy." He hissed, storming from the Hall.
He was halfway down the corridor when the hurried footsteps finally caught up to him. Neville darted around in front of him, quickly scooping Clara from his arms, while both Tracey and Daphne ducked their heads under his arms.
A pathetic noise of protest sounded from the back of his throat, only for his body to sag against the newfound support.
"We've got you Harry." Tracey whispered, as his eyelids grew heavy.
"We're the Vargarnir – we're a pack. We stick together." Daphne said softly, and despite all of the horrors of the last few hours, and all of the pain he'd endured; Harry let his body succumb to exhaustion with a smile.
