Chapter 62: Put a Ring on It
Armed with his certainty that Albus was in trouble, Harry teleported back to his room to gather his thoughts. Immediately, his record player switched on…
"If you like it then you should have put a ring on it, if you like it then you should have put a ring on it."
Harry sent a curse at it, but all that happened was the song changed. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive, ah ah ah, staying alive!"
It changed again. "FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! Four calling birds, three French hens—"
It changed again. "I-I-I-I-I'm not your stepping stone."
And again. "I used to be a rolling stone, you know, when the cause was right—"
"You'll be wrapped around my finger—"
"If you like it then you should have put a ring on it, whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, if you like it then you should have put a ring on it."
Harry yelled in frustration. "Shut up and let me THINK!"
The music went quiet. He turned to Fawkes, who was standing on his perch.
"Now," said Harry aloud, "where is Albus?"
Harry quickly teleported outside Minerva's chambers and knocked, but nobody was there. She was out on her date.
If you like it then you should have put a ring on it… He had it stuck in his head.
What could Albus being doing that would be more important than their date? What would he miss it for?
Well, he could have been kidnapped—but he was Albus Dumbledore. Nobody could kidnap him except maybe Harry at the top of his game.
What were Albus's weaknesses? What would he do that could get him in trouble that he wouldn't tell Harry about?
If you like it then you should have put a ring on it…
"Oh, FUCK."
And in Harry's mind's eye he saw Albus outside of Gaunt's old shack with the snake on the door, pushing the door open and spotting the ring, the Resurrection Stone, Voldemort's cursed horcrux. And if Albus had been distracted enough in his old age and wisdom to pick up the ring, he would most certainly, in his less learned youth, put it on. Harry would find him looking like a piece of Albus-shaped charcoal.
The problem was, Harry didn't actually know where Gaunt's house was. He knew it was near the grave yard where he'd been taken in his fourth year, but knew nothing beyond that.
He teleported back to his room.
"Fawkes, Albus is in trouble. Will you help me find him?"
Fawkes whistled.
"I can get us near…" Fawkes took off and landed on Harry's shoulder, and Harry teleported them out immediately.
They appeared in the graveyard; it was covered in snow—it was going to be more difficult to identify Gaunt's hut in such different conditions from when he'd seen it in the memory, but Fawkes took off immediately and started flying rapidly to the south. Harry changed into his phoenix form and followed.
From the air, he could see much more of the landscape. There, on a hill, was the Riddle House. The Gaunt shack must be nearby. Harry kept following Fawkes, getting faster by the second.
And there—finally, beneath a mat of overgrown brambles and ugly trees was the eyesore of a shack, the House of Gaunt. Harry vanished out of the air as soon as he saw it and reappeared in the shack, human again.
And there was Albus, unconscious, on the floor on his side. "No, no, no, NO!"
Harry could tell how he fell as there was swept path in the inch of dust. Harry quickly knelt down beside Albus and turned him so that he was on his back. He was still warm.
Fawkes appeared in a flash of fire and landed on the ground next to Albus, sweeping a space in the dust with his tail.
And Harry saw it; the heavy stone ring that Albus had put onto his right ring finger. Harry quickly summoned all the magical sense he could find in his recuperating magic aura and reached out with it to Albus and the ring.
He recoiled immediately. Clearly there was a curse…or maybe that was just the horcrux…He didn't know.
"Fawkes, will you go get Nicolas Flamel and bring him back to my tower?" Fawkes vanished immediately. Harry was careful not to touch Albus's skin or the ring in case the curse could travel. He got a good hold on Albus's arm and teleported them out.
They appeared on Harry's big purple bed. A moment later there was a flash of light and Fawkes and Nicolas appeared.
"What's happened, Harry?"
"He put on the ring. The Resurrection Stone—only it's a horcrux and it's cursed. I can't tell what…"
"Harry—slow down. What ring? What stone? The Hallow? A horcrux?" asked Nicolas, horrified.
Nicolas rushed to the bedside, bent down towards Albus and closed his eyes. Harry could tell he was feeling out the curse, as Harry had tried and failed to do. Nicolas flinched a few times and then opened his eyes again.
"The ring is stuck on his finger," said Nicolas. "You can touch him and the ring without falling under the effects of the curse. He is merely asleep, in a coma. I do not envy the dreams he's likely having, but he is just asleep for now. Whose horcrux is this?"
"Voldemort's. Tom Riddle. One of seven."
"Seven?"
"Well, six right now. He'll get the seventh in a few years, by mistake. How can we cure Albus?"
"As far as I can tell, this curse was intended to keep the finder of the horcrux preserved until—Voldemort, did you call him?—could find and deal with him or her. Or possibly it was intended to let him or her starve to death. It may do something more sinister; I do not know."
"So, how can we help him?"
"First, do you know how long he was cursed before you found him?"
Harry thought about it and his panic started to rise; he hadn't seen Albus in days. He could have been lying on the floor in the Gaunt house that whole time.
"Harry! How long?"
"Oh…um…I don't know. I haven't seen him since Thursday afternoon."
"Good, then he isn't quite near death by dehydration. You need to convince Voldemort to lift the curse or destroy the horcrux."
"He would never do that…getting Albus out of the way would be a cause of celebration for him and, besides, he can't know we know about his horcruxes."
"Then, you will need to destroy the horcrux. I admit, I have no experience with this and do not know how to destroy a horcrux."
Harry actually laughed in relief. "That is one thing that I do know how to do. Accio Sorting Hat!"
The sorting hat came zooming across the office and Harry caught it. He slammed it down over his ears and began to think.
I need help. I need to save Albus. Please, I need to save Albus. I need the sword.
And just like when he was in his second year, something heavy dropped onto his head, almost knocking him out. He stumbled and reached up to find that the sword of Gryffindor had, indeed, appeared in the Sorting Hat.
"All I have to do is break it with this," Harry said to Nicolas. "But we can't take the ring off—what if I miss and hit Albus's hand?"An image of Albus's hand, severed at the wrist and bleeding, popped into his mind.
Nicolas turned his attention and wand to Albus's hand with the ring on it. He tapped Albus's hand once, and from the tip of his wand spread steel, casting all of Albus's hand and lower arm except for right where the ring was. This would protect him.
"Nice job," said Harry. He swung the sword up into the air, aimed carefully, and brought it down hard.
His aim was true, but the sword not only bounced off, but flew out of Harry's grip across the room.
"What's wrong?" asked Nicolas.
"Oh…shit, the basilisk venom." He'd forgotten that the sword needed to be impregnated with basilisk venom for it to destroy the horcrux.
"I'm sorry?"
"This sword…I need to…will you watch him for a few minutes?"
Harry didn't wait for a response. He teleported out immediately, and a split second later he was in the Chamber of Secrets. It was, of course, exactly like he remembered it. It was untouched, as no one had visited since Riddle's sixth year.
Harry turned to the great statue of Salazar Slytherin and spoke to it. He might have been a little sheepish about the words coming out of his mouth, but he didn't have time.
"Oh mighty Slytherin, open up and let—fuck!"
He knew immediately it wasn't working. He wasn't speaking in Parseltongue. He hadn't practiced it since he lost his magic, so he couldn't do it without talking to a snake—he didn't even know if he could do it with a snake.
He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers. A tiny brown gopher snake appeared in his hand. At least he could do as much as an animal conjuring, he thought.
He looked at the snake.
"Hello," he said. It was Parseltongue. The snake nodded at him in response. "You can understand me?" The snake nodded again. "Good." He turned back to the statue and, in the same state of mind, began speaking to the statue.
"Oh mighty Slytherin, open up and let the monster out. I command you, open and let out the king of serpents!"
He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. He'd spoken the language correctly, but that wasn't the problem.
"Great," muttered Harry. "Where the hell am I supposed to find the heir of Slytherin at this time of night on a Saturday?"
He teleported back to his chambers.
"Did you get what you needed?" Nicolas asked immediately.
"No," said Harry. "As it turns out, the only person who can help me safely destroy this horcrux is the very man who created it. We could conjure Fiendfyre, but it might kill Albus. We need Tom Riddle. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need Lord Voldemort's help. Shit. Fawkes? Can you help me find him?"
Fawkes disappeared in a burst of flame, only to reappear a split second later, to Harry's surprise, with Minerva and a rather good looking man, both mostly naked and tangled in a blanket.
"No, Fawkes, that's—" Harry froze in horror. "Oh my god…that's Tom Riddle." The disguise was good; Voldemort's hair was longer and blond, his snake nose was gone, and he had freckles all over his body, but somehow Harry knew. Maybe it was from seventeen years of carrying part of that man's wasted soul, but Harry knew he would always be able to identify Lord Voldemort, and that was Lord Voldemort.
"Expelliarmus! Stupify!" he shouted immediately.
Riddle was so surprised that he fell immediately, dragging the blanket and Minerva with him. He didn't have his wand, so there was nothing to disarm him of.
"CROCKETT, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" shrieked Minerva, trying to cover herself with the blanket. "This is ELIJAH! How dare you attack him? How DARE YOU—"
"Minerva, that's Tom Riddle. That's Voldemort!"
"Finite Incantatem!" incanted Nicolas, pointing his wand at Voldemort. The disguise fell away and Minerva screamed and quickly scrabbled backward, bringing the blanket with her.
Tom Riddle was left in the middle of Harry's floor, unconscious and in nothing but his briefs (not that Harry had ever wanted to know what type of underwear Voldemort wore).
Minerva spotted Albus on the bed.
"Albus? Albus! What's happened to Albus?"
"He's been cursed," said Nicolas.
"Sort of his fault," Harry pointed to Riddle.
Minerva burst into tears. "I can't believe I was about to…oh Merlin—Tom Riddle! This must have been what Albus was trying to warn me about—oh I am sorry, Albus! I should have listened! But how could he have known? And why didn't Albus just tell me outright?"
"Would you have believed him if he had told you that you were seeing Tom Riddle?" asked Nicolas, kindly.
Minerva sniffed. "No." Her face hardened and she ran at Tom Riddle. Nobody really stopped her. She kicked him in the gut. He was unconscious and didn't move. After a few good kicks (and one satisfying crunch that meant she'd probably broken a rib), Harry stopped her.
"I'd let you keep going, but we…er…sort of need him for something."
She looked at him questioningly.
"He's the only one who can save Albus."
"What is it, exactly, that you need, Harry?" asked Nicolas.
"Basilisk venom," Harry replied.
Nicolas's face fell. "I have a fair few black market contacts, but there hasn't been word of a basilisk for two centuries."
"Well, I know where one is. I just can't get to it without Riddle. Maybe if I was…back to normal I could," Harry said referring to his power, "but not right now."
"Well, then, we'll have to wake him up," said Nicolas.
"Only, he can't see Albus. He can't know what did this to Albus or he'll never get us what we need. As far as he knows, that ring is still where he left it. He'd never help us break it."
"Perhaps you can take him directly to…wherever this basilisk of yours is," suggested Nicolas.
Harry nodded. He grabbed the sword of Gryffindor turned to Riddle and—
"Oh, for heaven's sake, will somebody please conjure him some clothes?"