While he sat outside he saw a patronus. A doe.
"That can't be mum, she doesn't know where we are."
So he stood up and followed it.
When he got there he looked down and saw a lake. When the light was gone it was over part of the ice.
He brushed the snow off some of it and saw the sword.
Then he looked on his left then right but saw nothing.
"Accio sword!"
But it didn't work. So he looked back and forth again and then said.
"Defindo!"
The ice cracked enough for him to go down. So he started to undress and then went down.
While he was down there he felt the locket start to chock him. While he tried to stop it he heard footsteps.
A few seconds later there was a different sound. When he was about to pass out he felt someone pull him out of the water.
When he got out he started to cough. Then he put his glasses on.
"Tracey?"
"Are you mad?!"
"Ron? Hermione?"
"Well yeah, who did you think it was?" Ron said.
"It was one of you, one of you made a patronus." he said.
"No we thought that was you?" Hermione said.
"No my patronus is a stag like my dad."
"Oh, right, antlers." Ron said while he made some with his hands.
When he was all dressed up he took the locket off and put it in front of them.
Hermione had gone behind a tree so that she didn't have to worry about something hitting her.
"OK then, do it Ron." Harry said.
"I can't. I can't do it." he said.
"Then why did you two come back? Why are you here?"
Ron stood there quietly for a few seconds.
"I'm going to open it," said Harry, "Don't hesitate because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the Diary tried to kill me."
"How are you going to open it?" asked Ron. He looked terrified
"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," said Harry.
"Ready?"
He nodded and took out the sword.
"Alright, One . . . two . . . three . . .open."
Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled.
"Stab," said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock.
Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: The point dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself.
Then a voice hissed from out the Horcrux.
"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."
"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it!"
"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..."
"Stab!" shouted Harry, his voice echoed off the surrounding trees, the sword point trembled, and Ron gazed down into Riddle's eyes.
"Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter . . . Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend . . . Second best, always, eternally overshadowed . . ."
"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed:
He could feel the locket quivering in the grip and was scared of what was coming. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle's eyes gleamed scarlet.
Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted.
Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as it burned, suddenly, white-hot.
"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into its face.
"Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption-"
"Presumption!" echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione: She swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified, yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. "Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"
"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!" Harry yelled, but Ron did not move.
His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet.
"Your mother confessed," sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, "that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange..."
"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met.
On the ground in front of them, Ron's face filled with anguish. He raised the sword high, his arms shaking.
"Do it, Ron!" Harry yelled. 'My head is going to split if he doesn't do it soon!'
Ron looked toward him and Harry thought he saw a trace of scarlet in his eyes.
"Ron -?"
The sword flashed, plunged: Harry threw himself out of the way, there as a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream. Harry whirled around, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend himself, but there was nothing to fight.
The monstrous versions of himself and Hermione were gone:
There was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock.
When it was gone Hermione walked over to them and sat next to them.
"One down. Only four to go." Ron said.