'I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry.'
Harry lies there, all the incredible tension from the last few hours leaving him. It's over. No need to fight, no need to dodge, no need to run, no need to think. Not anymore.
Is it weird, that this sweet, special kind of relief washes over his dying body? Does... does dying work this way?
Harry's vision is blurry, the Chamber's high, domed ceiling spinning above him. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Riddle; the older boy is kneeling beside Ginny, stroking her forehead.
'I do have her consent, by the way.' Riddle whispers softly, turning his head towards Harry. 'Obviously I don't need yours, but you can as well give it to me. Let it be the last thing you do, the last conscious decision you make.'
Harry makes an effort to squint his tormented eyes and look at Riddle. His head is spinning; his foggy mind refuses to comprehend any of the other boy's words.
'What... the hell...are you talking about?' Harry asks in a hoarse voice.
He watches Riddle pick himself up from the ground, just to approach Harry slowly and kneel by his side.
When the older boy's face moves close to his own, Harry notices the recent changes in its appearance and features. The ghostly, misty light around it has vanished completely, leaving it sharp, clear and real. It is no longer a face of a fragile memory of a man. Now, it is a face of a man of flesh and bones.
Harry exhales, watching Riddle's eyes, glittering upon him. How come he didn't notice sooner, how unique Riddle's eyes are? Scarlet, with a darker, crimson ring around each narrow pupil. How come these eyes, hovering maybe an inch above Harry's face, make him slowly leave his dreamy, relaxed realm of "nearly-death"?
How come these eyes bring Harry focus and clarity...?
'Ginny.' Riddle says, his cold voice making Harry flinch and snap out of his numbness completely. 'Do you think, that I made her do this? That I made her come down here tonight ? That I made her pour her life and soul into my dairy, in order to make my memory real?'
Harry's eyes widen.
'Wh...? Didn't you...?'
Riddle's lips curl up into a smile.
'Everything she did - ' he says calmly '-she did out of her free will. For me.'
'Why?' Harry asks quietly, not entirely sure, how he actually feels about this information. 'Why would she decide to willingly sacrifice her life for you?'
'Hmm... Maybe it has something to do with the fact, that she has six elder brothers, none of whom ever gave a single damn about her.' Riddle says in a conversational tone, still keeping his striking eyes uncomfortably close to Harry's. 'Maybe it has something to do with the fact, that her Muggle-loving parents made her go to school dressed and equipped like a literal hobo. Maybe it has something to do with the fact, that the person she was crazy in love with -' Riddle makes a pause in his monologue, making Harry realize, who is he referring to '- seemed not to notice her at all ever since she has met him...'
Harry feels an ice-cold cramp in his bowels.
Riddle smiles sadly, shooting a glance towards the unconscious girl.
'Maybe it has something to do with the fact, that I was literally the only person who cared about her, who looked after her, who was there for her every time she needed. I was her chaperon, her protector and her soulmate; I was the refuge she failed to find in any of her family members. Or in you.'
Harry forces himself to take his eyes off Riddle's face and to look towards Ginny.
'She...' he starts, trying desperately to gather his thoughts.
'She doesn't suffer, Harry. She doesn't feel any pain. The process isn't straining her body in any way. She knows, that as soon as she succeeds to resurrect my body, she is going to live forever in minds and souls of Wizards and Witches worldwide. She shall be remembered forever as a hero.'
Riddle stands up and returns to Ginny; he continues to stroke her ginger hair tenderly.
Harry clenches his eyes, crushed by his own helplessness. He would give anything to return to his "almost-dead", numb, relaxed state; he would give anything, not to feel responsible about all this crazy things going on around him.
Half-consciously, he sweeps his hand over the stone floor, and instantly opens his eyes, having felt a leather binding of Riddle's diary under his fingers.
Harry's thoughts start racing again. He moves the small book towards himself imperceptibly, shooting a quick, anxious glance towards Riddle. The older boy is still kneeling beside Ginny.
Harry has never considered himself to be exceptionally smart, but a simple cause-and-effect relationship isn't beyond him; he realizes, that Riddle's memory cannot exist without its vessel. As long as Ginny is alive and the "resurrection" process is still in progress, Harry still has a chance; he can destroy Tom, destroying the vessel of his memory.
With his heart pounding, he cautiously look around and slowly extends his arm, trying to reach one of the Basilisk's fangs scattered all over the stone floor.
Feeling drops of sweat forming on his forehead, Harry reaches one of the fangs with his fingertips and slowly moves it towards himself.
Placing the diary carefully on his chest, Harry grabs the fang in a two-handed, firm grip and raises it , the sharp end downwards, aiming at the small book.
Silence.
Harry feels his arms shaking.
Just do it, you fucking moron, he thinks desperately.
He shoots one more glance towards Riddle. The boy is still beside Ginny, with his back to Harry.
You knew he was still with his back to you, Harry thinks, furious with himself. You fucking knew he wasn't looking at you. Why spare another glance? Why are you still hesitating?!
Nothing.
Just stab the fucking diary!
Feeling overwhelming weakness and disappointment, Harry slowly lowers the fang and slides it into his sleeve, exhaling quietly.
'Tom,' he says softly.
Riddle turns his head towards Harry.
'I don't know, Tom.' he says, feeling burning tears forming in his eyes. 'I fucking don't know.'
Riddle raises his eyebrows, apparently encouraging him to elaborate.
'So much has happened over the last couple of hours, that I don't even feel like using logic and reason.' Harry starts, not certain where is he going with this, but saying the words out loud helped tremendously in sorting out his thoughts. 'Nonetheless, I know, that if I won't use them now, I'll regret it later. The thing is... I would gladly give you my consent.'
Tom's scarlet eyes widen.
' I would gladly lie here, in this blissful realm, letting these past twelve years of continuous nightmare fade away into oblivion.' Harry goes on. 'I would gladly let go of this burden, that has been building up over the years, crushing my shoulders more and more with every step.'
'...But?' Riddle asks quietly.
Harry feels tears rolling down his cheeks, as he squeezes his fingers on the fang and slowly moves it out of his sleeve.
'But... but letting both myself and Ginny die here... is not something I could do. It's not something I would allow myself to do. I'm... I'm sorry, Tom.'
Uttering the last words, Harry takes a vigorous sweep with his hand, and plunges the fang's sharp end into the diary.
Black ink spurts out of the diary as Riddle lets out an excruciating scream.
Harry's vision goes blurry again; he squints his eyes, only to see the older boy throwing himself on him.
Harry doesn't fight, when Tom pries the fang out of his hand.
Harry doesn't resist, when Tom makes a wide swing backwards with it.
Harry just spreads his empty arms open, when Tom plunges the fang right into his chest.
Sliding his eyes shut, Harry submits himself to pain, and the relaxed numbness that comes after it.
Hearing a heavy breathing on his right, he knows, that dying Tom lies beside him, and that nothing and nobody is going to change this.
Harry opens his eyes; through heavy lids, he watches his partner in death. Tom doesn't look like a man of flesh and blood anymore; yet again, he is surrounded by this weird, ghostly mist.
Harry's eyes wonder towards the Chamber's domed ceiling.
'It's awesome.' he whispers.
'What's awesome?' Riddle asks in a hoarse voice.
'Dying.' Harry answers shortly.
Tom lets out a small chuckle.
'You're one weird guy, Harry.' he whispers.
'Shut up and take my hand.'
Harry feels a special kind of chill, when Tom's thin hand finds his own.
He squeezes his fingers on this cold, thin hand, and lets blissful minutes pass in silence.
Eons or nanoseconds might have passed, when suddenly, a long screech violently snaps Harry out of his rapturous heaven.
A fiery bird of the size of a swan - Faweks - came back. He lowers his flight and lands gracefully right between the dying boys.
'What...?' Tom whispers, when the phoenix lowers his small head upon Harry's chest.
Harry holds his breath as he realizes what Faweks is doing. Pearly tears start falling from the bird's shiny eyes, right into the open wound on Harry's chest.
'Of course...' Tom says softly. 'Phoenix' tears... Healing powers... I forgot...'
Harry's eyes widen.
'No!' he yells. 'Faweks, no! Go away...!'
He raises his fist to chase the bird away, but Tom grabs his wrist.
'Let him.' he whispers.
'What...?' Harry asks, taken aback, looking into scarlet of Tom's eyes.
'Let him.' Riddle repeats. 'I will have other chances. You won't.'
Harry, yet again, feel burning tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
He nods slowly at Tom.
'See you again, Harry.' Tom says quietly.
Harry clenches his eyes and squeezes his fingers, holding Tom's hand tightly.
Until it disappears.