Chapter 15: The Two Heirs
He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. His heart beating very fast, John stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Ginny?
He pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir.
Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.
John had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.
"Ginny," John muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees, "Ginny - don't be dead - please don't be dead -"
He flung Lockhart's wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be…
"Ginny, wake up ya ginger," John muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.
"She won't wake," said a soft voice.
John jumped and spun around on his knees.
A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though John were looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him.
"Tom - Tom Riddle?"
Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off John's face.
"What d'you mean, she won't bloody wake?!" John demanded angrily.
"She's close to death," Riddle replied bluntly.
John stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.
"The diary…" John realized, "You walked out of the diary."
"That's one way of putting it," Riddle nodded.
"Where is it?" John asked.
Riddle pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Potter had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. For a second, John wondered how it had got there… but there were more pressing matters to deal with.
"You did this to Ginny, didn't you?" John asked as he stood up.
"Technically," Riddle admitted, "but in reality, she did it to herself."
"What do you mean?" John asked with narrowed. He glanced around for Lockhart's wand, but it was no longer on the ground. He then saw it in Riddle's hands being twirled around.
"It's quite a long story." Riddle replied, "I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."
"The diary," John realized again, "She wrote in it."
"My diary," Riddle explained, "Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes - how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how-"
Riddle's eyes glinted
"How she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…" Riddle finished.
All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left John's face. There was an almost hungry look in them.
"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on, "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…"
Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of John's neck.
I've heard that laugh before, thought John, Where did I hear it? More accurately, when?
"If I say it myself, John, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted… I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…"
"What do you mean?" John asked hoping he was wrong.
"Haven't you guessed yet, John Constantine?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."
"It wasn't her," John said coldly, "It was you. You possessed her. You did all that."
"In a way, yes," Riddle said evilly, "but she knew what she was doing and she could've stopped me if she wanted to. But, she didn't. She let it happen."
"Though," Riddle said as if he remembered something, "she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became… Dear Tom," he recited, watching John's enraged face, "'I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me… There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'"
John clenched his fists very hard. So hard his fists grew pale.
"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where your associate came in, John. He or she found it, and then handed it to you. I would've been more delighted. Of all the people who could have been given it, it was you. However, you're not the person I am most anxious to meet…"
"Who is it you wanted to meet?" John asked. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.
"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about Harry Potter," said Riddle. "His whole fascinating history. I knew I must find out more about him, talk to him, meet him if I could. Unfortunately, I got you. However, I was intrigued enough by you when we chatted. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust-"
"Right," John snorted, "As if I'd ever trust a sentient book. Also, you framed Hagrid. Didn't you?"
Riddle laughed his high laugh again.
"It was my word against Hagrid's, John. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student… on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls… but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"
"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed… Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…"
"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," John sneered.
"He certainly kept an annoyingly close watch," Riddle practically spat, "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."
"Well, you haven't finished it," said John triumphantly. "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be alright again-"
"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been Harry Potter."
John smirked victoriously, because there was no way Riddle was going to get what he desired.
"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw Harry with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if he found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to him? What if, even worse, I told him who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until his dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you and Harry Potter both were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery - particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because Harry could speak Parseltongue…
"You had attacked Ritchie to get me down here as well?!" John snarled.
"Oh yes," Riddle sneered, "I also had the Granger bitch attacked to, so that…"
Riddle suddenly looked around when he realized something. Harry wasn't here.
"Where is Harry Potter?!" demanded Riddle, "He should've come down with you!"
"I rendered him unconscious," John sneered, "I had sworn to keep him alive after all. Once a friend of mine had a premonition of his death…"
"Damn it!" Riddle shouted, "Now I can't get answers."
"Answers of what?" John asked not really caring.
"Well," said Riddle, glaring, "how is it that Harry Potter - a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent - managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did he escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"
"Why should you care?" John asked uncaringly.
"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, John Constantine…"
He pulled Lockhart's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words.
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
"You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, John - I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"
John stared with complete rage as he flashed back to the day of his birth. He saw an older Tom Riddle standing over his mother with a bone-like wand aimed at her. His father was unconscious on the ground and bleeding. Riddle laughed coldly but it was stopped short when he heard a scream. Riddle turned to see his sister standing there with a look of horror on her face. She raised her wand, but Riddle suddenly cast a memory charm on her making her forget the scene. Riddle then stared at the dead form of John's mother and set her ablaze. He strode towards John's sister and disapparated when he grabbed her shoulder.
As soon as John returned to the present, he glared with murderous intent at teen Riddle.
"You're not," John said, his quiet voice full of hatred.
"Not what?" snapped Riddle.
"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said John, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days-"
The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.
"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.
"He's not as gone as you might think!" John retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true.
Riddle opened his mouth, but froze.
Out of the water rose a sword inside of a hand. It was Godric Gryffindor's sword.
"You're not a Gryffindor!" Riddle exclaimed, "How is the sword coming to you?!"
The hand then threw the sword out of the water and both John and Riddle watched as the sword flew through the air. It flipped end over end till it hit the ground blade first. Strangely enough, the blade pierced the stone without causing sparks. In fact, it was like poking meet with a fork.
"Enough of this!" Riddle yelled as he shook his head, "Tonight you die, and then Potter!"
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four." said Riddle in parseltongue. Just like before, John understood the language.
John wheeled around to look up at the statue.
Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, John saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.
And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.
John backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut his eyes tight he heard the sound of the Basilisk slithering out of the statue.
Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. John felt it shudder - he knew what was happening, he could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth. Then he heard Riddle's hissing voice:
"Kill him."
The basilisk was moving toward John; he could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, John began to run blindly sideways, his hands outstretched, feeling his way - Voldemort was laughing.
John tripped. He fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood. The serpent was barely feet from him, he could hear it coming.
There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him, and then something heavy hit John so hard that he was smashed into the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body he heard more mad hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars.
He couldn't help it - he opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.
The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. He also saw what looked like blood dripping onto the ground. He saw where the blood was dripping from and saw a stream of blood coming out of one eye. Where it's eye had been was a some stone shrapnel.
The Basilisk moved its head about and turned to stare at John with its remaining left eye. John quickly looked away and scrambled to his feet.
He ran as fast as he could, but he ended up tripping again. He looked to see what had tripped him and saw that he had tripped on a very sharp rock. It was as long as a short spear. As girthy as one too.
He saw the Basilisk coming towards him by using the wet stone as a mirror. Fortunately, he only saw the blind side of the snake. John picked up the spear-like stone and prepared to move. The Basilisk struck, and John spun to the blind side. He grabbed the snake by one of its scales and was hoisted off the ground as the Basilisk moved its head up. He hung on for dear life as the Basilisk shook its head. He managed to climb his way to on top of the snake, and when he got to where he judged the remaining eye to be. He stabbed into the eye causing the snake to shriek in pain. The snake shook even more so, and this time John was sent flying. He hit the ground hard and felt something snap in his left leg.
"Smart," Riddle said smugly, "taking out its eyes, but even so… it can smell you. You'll never survive."
"Shut the feck up," John said irked as he got to his feet. They looked back at the snake and saw that it was thrashing around in order to get the stone spear out of its eye.
"HE BOY IS BEHIND YOU!" Riddle yelled in parseltongue, "YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM IDIOT! KILL HIM!"
John limped over to Gryffindor's sword, and grabbed it with his right hand. He suddenly felt something that he had never felt before.
The sword's blade suddenly glowed red, as John's body combusted into flames without destroying his clothes. Suddenly, John cried out in pain. As he screamed, he felt two things grow out of his back and rip the back of his button down shirt and raincoat in the process. Horns protruded out of his elbow and shoulders. Ridges formed from the base the top of his back all the way down his spine. A tail grew out of his tailbone, and it had ridges that continued from the bottom of his back. John's hair fell out and was replaced by dragon-esque scales, and horns, John suddenly collapsed as his feet began making snapping sounds as they reconfigured to be more like an actual dragon's pair of legs. A better example would be wolf-like. John finally stopped screaming as the flames that had combusted on him moved towards his wing-bones to make up the wings themselves. In John's place was a dragon-man with red scales, and torn clothes. When John opened his eyes, they were glowing bright red and diamond shaped again.
"No way…" John heard Riddle say, "It's impossible! The last Heir of Gryffindor died centuries ago!"
"After I kill the snake," John said in a guttural tone, "you're next."
John turned to look at the Basilisk and noticed it was slithering towards him. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin, glittering, venomous-
It lunged blindly, but John flapped his wings once and flew into the air. He flew around till he was right above the snake, and then dropped. He pointed Gryffindor's sword downward as he fell, but the Snake smelled him and lunged up. John widened his dragon-esque eyes and managed to flap out of the path just in time.
"Flying isn't going to cut it," John muttered to himself. He landed on the ground and whistled to attract the snake's attention. It slithered at him again, but unlike before John stood his ground. With the sword in hand, he got ready.
The basilisk lunged again, and this time John threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth-
But as warm blood drenched John's arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm and it splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.
John gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it was too late. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as he dropped the fang and watched his own blood soaking his clothes, his vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull color. John slowly limped towards the diary, but before he made it too steps he collapsed to the ground as he transformed back to normal. For some reason, the transformation didn't bring him more pain. Maybe it's because his body had become fully accustomed to the dragon morphing ability he was born with.
As John lay dying, he heard a sound he never thought he'd hear in a cave. Even Riddle was shocked out of his anger for his pets death and glee for John's soon to be death.
Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on John's scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that John felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.
A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons.
A second later, the bird was flying straight at John. It landed on the ground next to John's shoulder and stared at him.
"That's a phoenix." said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.
He felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him.
He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of him.
"You're dead, John Constantine," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Constantine? He's crying."
blinked. Fawke's head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers.
"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, John Constantine. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."
John felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning.
"So ends the youngest exorcist in a century," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear blood traitor mother soon, John."
If this is dying, thought John, it's not so bad.
Even the pain was leaving him…
But was this dying? Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. John gave his head a little shake and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on John's arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound - except that there was no wound.
"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him - I said, get away-"
John raised his head. Riddle was pointing Lockhart's wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.
"Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at John's arm. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"
He looked into John's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, John Constantine...you and me…"
He raised the wand…
Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into John's lap - the diary.
For a split second, both John and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, John seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.
There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over John's hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then-
He had gone. Lockhart's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.
Shaking all over, John pulled himself up. His head was spinning as though he'd just traveled miles by Floo powder. Slowly, he gathered together Lockhart's wand and with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the basilisk's mouth.
Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Ginny was stirring. As John limped toward her, she sat up. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over John in his blood-soaked and torn robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.
"John - oh, John - I tried to tell Harry at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy - it was me, John - but I - I s-swear I d-didn't mean to - R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - how did you kill that - that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary-"
"It's all right," said John with a the kindest tone he had ever used and it was genuine. He held up the diary, and showed Ginny the fang hole, "Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here-"
"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as John helped her awkwardly to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and - w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"
Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. John urged Ginny forward; they stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. John heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.
After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached John's ears.
"Ron!" John yelled, speeding up as much as his broken leg let him. "Ginny's okay! I've got her!"
He heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.
"Ginny!" Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How - what - where did that bird come from?"
Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny.
"He's Dumbledore's," said John, squeezing through himself, "apparently."
"How come you've got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in John's hand, "and what happened to your clothes?"
"I'll explain when we get out of here," said John with a sideways glance at Ginny, who was crying harder than ever.
"But-"
"Later," John said shortly. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell Ron yet who'd been opening the Chamber, not in front of Ginny, anyway. "Where's Professor Fraud?"
"Back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."
Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.
"His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself."
"You know what they say," John snorted, "Karma's a bitch."
Ron also snorted at that.
Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all.
"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"
"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at John.
John bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe.
"If I hadn't reverted back," John muttered to himself, "I could probably fly us out of here."
"Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?" he said to Ron.
Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past John and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. John looked uncertainly at him.
"He looks like he wants you to grab hold…" said Ron, looking perplexed. "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there-"
"Fawkes," said John, "isn't an ordinary bird." He turned quickly to the others. "We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Professor Fraud-"
"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.
"You hold Ginny's other hand —"
John tucked the sword into what remained of his belt, Ron wrapped his hands around John's neck due to how John's clothing had fared the fight, and John reached out and took hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers
An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through his whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. John could hear Lockhart dangling below him, saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was whipping through John's hair, and before he'd stopped enjoying the ride, it was over - all four of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.
"Oh my god!" exclaimed Prue when she saw John's condition, "John!"
Both Prue and Piper hurried to John while Harry hurried to Ron and Ginny.
"What happened?" they all asked at once.
"Maybe later," John said, "I think I'm going to lie down."
With that, he slowly sat down on the ground and laid on the floor.
"That's better," John sighed, "Finally my leg has stopped hurting as much."
"A broken leg?" Prue guessed.
"More than likely," John said.
Once John's leg had been repaired by Prue, they all left the bathroom. They decided to take it slow though, because John was still recovering from the fight against the Basilisk and Ginny was still recovering from nearly being drained of her life-force.
"Where now?" said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry pointed.
Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office.
Harry knocked and pushed the door open.
We're definitely getting to the story's finale soon. Might even come out tomorrow. We'll see. As always please favorite if you like it, follow if you want more updates, and leave a review if you have questions and/or good comments to say.