HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 43: The Chamber of Secrets
Ginny's decision to jump down the hole that led to the Chamber of Secrets was an impulsive one, but she could never countenance being left behind and certainly not when the life of one of her brothers was at stake. That didn't change the fact that it was an impulsive decision, as she realized once it was too late to turn back and she could only wait to find out the hard way what was at the bottom of the tunnel she was now sliding down at breakneck speed. For all she knew, it might lead to a bottomless pit or a bed of spikes or simply the Basilisk's gaping maw. Indeed, there might not even be a need for an actual trap of some kind – given her speed, she could simply fly out of the bottom and crash into a wall. A pair of broken legs might be just as deadly as a pit of acid if no one knew where she was or how to get to her. Thus, she was greatly relieved when the steep slide finally bottomed out into a relatively flat arc that slowed her descent before dumping her out on the ground, if not gently, then at least without injury onto a filthy stone floor.
From somewhere back up the slide, Ginny heard a noise that sounded quite alarming until she realized it was merely Jim Potter yelling "Waahooo!" at the top of his lungs as he slid down. She rolled over to one side while briefly wondering how she'd ever had a crush on the boy. Even as serious as the situation was, he couldn't resist treating the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets as if it were an amusement park ride! A few seconds later, Jim shot out of the opening face-first and landed on the ground with a loud "Whooof!" He got up slowly, rubbing his nose with a pained hiss after sliding it across the floor. By the time he'd gotten up, Ginny had already cast a Lumos, and the light from her wand revealed a twenty-foot diameter circular corridor with a stonework floor. To her great relief, there was no immediate sign of a Basilisk. Then, she heard another rattling sound from back up the way she'd come, and a few seconds later, Harry Potter floated briskly through the opening while seated in a cross-legged position. He came to a stop in midair and then casually put his feet down onto the ground. Ginny and Jim stared at him in complete amazement.
"What?" Harry said with the faintest smirk on his face. "Protego Orbis. I didn't know what would be down here, after all. If nothing else, I didn't want to end up covered in filth." He nodded at the other two who were, indeed, covered head to toe in centuries of dust and grime. Then, he reached up with his free hand and tapped his glasses in a rhythmic pattern. Instantly, the lenses went black.
"Are sunshades really helpful down here?" Jim asked irritably.
"These are. I just activated the low-light function. To me, this corridor is now brightly lit. And in fact, Ginny, I'll ask you not to wave that Lumos in my face, thank you very much. It's very distracting."
"Whatever," Jim said before heading down the corridor.
"Don't get too far ahead, Jim!" Harry said in a deliberately patronizing tone. "After all, it's not like you have a wand or anything!"
Ginny and Harry followed after Jim. "So why are you here?" Ginny whispered. "Just to annoy Jim? I mean, let's be honest, I know you don't particularly like Ron or anything."
"No, but I like you and the rest of your family, and I don't fancy explaining to your mother that I let you get eaten by a giant snake while I was hiding in the girls' bathroom. Also, I owe George a life-debt, so I sort of felt obligated."
"Do you mean to say you actually felt compelled by the debt you owed George to come risk your life down here?"
"Between you and me? I don't think so. But if anyone else asks why I did something as Gryffindorish as this, the life-debt's my story and I'm sticking to it."
With that, the trio moved on through the gloomy tunnel. After a few minutes, the tunnel opened up into a larger cave and they stopped. Up ahead, they could just make out in the darkness what looked like a massive snaked lying motionless on the other side of some rocks.
"You two stay here," he whispered. "I'll creep up and get a better view. If it is the Basilisk, maybe it's asleep or something and we can sneak past it."
"That's stupid!" Harry whispered back urgently. "Why should you go alone?"
"Because as you pointed out, I'm the one without a wand, so I reckon that makes me the most expendable right now." And with that, Jim crept off towards the opening, leaving an anxious Harry and Ginny behind. Harry was just about to follow when Jim stopped and visibly relaxed. He turned back and called to the two Slytherins.
"It's okay! It's just a shed skin. Pretty big though!"
Relieved and yet annoyed that Jim was yelling and perhaps giving away their position, Harry stood and headed towards his brother, with Ginny following close behind. When he was ten feet away, though, Harry froze in shock. Then, in one swift movement, he pushed Ginny backwards. "GINNY, GET DOWN!" he yelled before charging straight at Jim. The Gryffindor had no time to react before Harry tackled him, his force carrying them both ten or so feet further into the open area.
Barely a second later, the runes Jim had unwittingly been standing upon exploded, causing rocks to fall down from the ceiling to block the entrance through which they'd come.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Jim yelled while trying not to choke on dust.
"Explosive runes, obviously!" Harry said harshly. "Not nearly as big as the ones that blew up Greenhouse #3 this morning, but enough to kill if you're standing on top of them. And you're welcome!" Harry ran back to where the rocks had fallen and shouted urgently for Ginny.
"GINNY! GINNY! ARE YOU OKAY?!" From the other side of the rock fall, he could hear some coughing and a muffled reply.
"I'm fine! I was clear of the explosion, but the way is blocked on my side. What do I do now?"
Harry exhaled in relief. "Start trying to clear the rubble away! But be careful! We'll go ahead and get Ron, but we may need to leave in a hurry!"
"Okay! Be careful guys!"
Harry stepped reluctantly away from the rubble and turned back to Jim with an angry expression. "Come on," he said. "And watch where you're going!"
Chastened, Jim nodded, and then he and Harry continued on past the enormous snake skin into the next tunnel. Both of them were equally shaken to see confirmation of the Basilisk's size.
"Plus," Harry muttered, "now we're down to one wand."
"Nobody asked you to come," Jim snapped.
"Actually, you did ask me to come. And then accused me of being a coward when I said it was a bad idea."
"Yeah, well ... you still came in the end. So much for Slytherin cunning."
Harry gaped at that remark. Then, he laughed at what Jim had said. After a few seconds, Jim laughed as well and shook his head at the absurdity of their situation before the two continued down the path. Along the way, they found two more sets of explosive runes on the floor. Harry used the Color-Changing Charm to turn each of them fluorescent orange, and the two carefully edged around each in turn. Eventually, they arrived at a huge sealed door barred by locks that resembled huge metal snakes. Faintly glowing orbs cast some illumination, though only Harry with his glasses could see clearly. Jim noticed.
"So what all enchantments do you have on those glasses anyway?"
"Unbreakable. Can't fall off accidentally. Water-repellent. Light-resistant and light-intensifying, as needed. Plus a few other bits and bobs."
"Anything in there to protect you from the Basilisk's gaze?"
"Surprisingly, that was not offered as an option by the wizarding optometrist. I'll have to ask and see if he can custom order that for me."
Jim chuckled and then examined the vault door. "Now what?" Jim asked. Harry shrugged.
"Try telling it to open again. That worked before."
Jim glanced at Harry before taking a deep breath and hissing the word open in Parseltongue. The massive snake-locks unlocked themselves and the door slid open. On the inside, there was a long pathway flanked by massive brass snake heads, each of which had water pouring out of its mouth and into a narrow channel on each side of the walkway. Beyond them on either side were massive columns supporting a roof which so high as to be shrouded in darkness. At the far end was a massive sculpture of a bearded man easily forty feet tall with a huge flowing beard. His features were fierce yet noble, and Harry was surprised to find that even Salazar Slytherin's image had not escaped slander by the Ministry – the man's face showed nothing of the "monkey-like" description that was in all the official depictions of him.
Then, Jim gasped, and Harry saw what had startled him: Ron Weasley's prone body was lying face-up on the floor just under the statue, the Diary still clutched in his hands.
"RON!" Jim abandoned all discretion and ran towards his friend, while Harry followed behind more warily. Jim dropped to his knees next to the boy and tried to shake him awake. "Come on, Ron! Please don't be dead!" he said in a distraught voice. Then, he tried to pull the Diary away but screamed in pain and jerked his hands away, shaking them from the shock damage the cursed book had inflicted from just a second of contact.
Harry pointed his wand at the unconscious figure. "BIOGNOSIS." The spell was a basic diagnostic charm which Professor Lockhart had taught the previous January as part of the unit on first aid. In response, ghostly symbols appeared floating in the air over Ron's body.
"Hmm. According to this, he's fine physically ... except for the part where he's dying."
"WHAT!?" Jim exclaimed.
"What I said. There's nothing physically wrong with him, but somehow his vitals are fading for no reason. It's like ... like the life is draining out of him. The Diary's work, I expect." Baffled, Harry moved around to the other side of Ron to where the boy's book-bag had been left. Inside he found the boy's normal schoolbooks, the invisibility cloak, a blank parchment which he assumed was the Weasley Twins' map, and an ash wand which he handed off to his brother, who promptly kissed it as if greeting a loved one after a long absence.
"Eww!" said Harry. "Don't kiss it! You don't know what Evil Possessed Ron's been doing with it!"
"Harry, shut up!" Jim replied irritably before returning to his friend. "Ron! Come on, wake up, Ron!"
"I'm afraid Ron won't be waking up, Jim," said a voice from nearby, one Jim found familiar. "You see, as he grows weaker, I grow ..."
"STUPIFY!" Jim sent his strongest Stunner towards Tom Riddle who was suddenly standing just a few feet away. It passed through him harmlessly, and he sneered at the boy.
"In this form, Potters, I am quite immune to even the most potent of attack spells. Now, as I was saying, as Ron grows weaker, I grow stronger. Not that you two will be around long enough to witness my full corporeality." He turned towards Harry. "I enjoyed the chance to meet the famous Boy-Who-Lived earlier. I learned so much about your brother from my ... interactions with Ronald. But I must say it's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh as well, Harry Potter."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Harry said drily as he and Jim rose slowly. Harry had spent hours researching Tom Riddle ever since Dumbledore had told him about the "brilliant young Slytherin" with whom he and Jim shared a brother wand, yet he'd never found an actual picture of him. He was surprised that Riddle for some reason seemed oddly familiar.
"Oh, the pleasure's all mine, Harry," Riddle continued in an unctuous voice. "I've learned a great deal about you both from young Ronald's memories, but especially all about your exciting adventure last year in which you both successfully fought off Lord Voldemort himself. I'm very interested to learn how the two of you managed such an impossible feat. How did two mere First Years manage to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?!"
Harry turned towards Jim as if confused. "Did we defeat Merlin last year?! I don't remember that at all!"
"No, no," Jim replied. "I'm pretty sure Tommy Boy is just a Voldemort fan-boy. Which makes no sense actually. Voldemort was after your time."
Riddle sneered hatefully at the boys. "Lord Voldemort is my past, my present, and my future!" With that, he pointed towards the Diary and then snapped his fingers. To the boys' surprise, the gold lettering on the front cover floated up and expanded in the air to spell out "TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE." Then, Tom waved his hand, and the letters slowly rearranged themselves to spell out different words.
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
Both boys were shocked by the revelation. "Voldemort?!" Jim said in a shaking voice. "You ... you're Voldemort." Riddle began to respond when Harry rather loudly interrupted.
"IT'S AN ANAGRAM?" Jim actually jumped at the force of Harry's exclamation. "I just thought is was bad French! But do you mean to tell me that the Great and Terrible Lord Voldemort got his name from an anagram when he was a teenager?! What happened? Did you get bored in History of Magic and say to yourself 'I swear, if Binns talks about Goblin Wars one more time, I'll go mad and become a genocidal Dark Lord!' I've got even less respect for Tom Riddle and Voldemort both than I had before I came down here!"
"Alas, Potter," Riddle spat angrily, "I didn't change my name to please the likes of you! I wanted a name to strike fear into my enemies, one that would no longer carry the stain of my filthy Muggle father!"
"Wait, what?" Jim asked in confusion. "Voldemort has a Muggle father?!
"Yes, Jim," Harry said irritably. "Try to keep up. And besides, Tom, it's not like your mother was any great prize!"
Even Jim was shocked by Harry's rude comment, while Riddle inhaled furiously. "How dare you!" he snapped. Harry just sniffed disdainfully.
"I've made you my business, Tom Marvolo Riddle, ever since I found out about your history and ancestry. Your grandfather and namesake, Marvolo Gaunt, was the last lord of House Gaunt. He was expelled from his Wizengamot seat in 1921 after showing up drunk to a legislative session and firing a Bludgeoning Curse at Lady Sapphira Doge while she was giving a speech in favor of criminalizing Muggle-hunting. The criminal fines and civil penalties bankrupted House Gaunt, and today, the former Gaunt Manor is the refurbished summer home of Donaghan Tremlett, the bassist for the Weird Sisters." Harry paused and grinned broadly "He's a Muggleborn, you know!"
Riddle snarled, but Harry was just getting warmed up.
"Your Uncle Morfin Gaunt started at Hogwarts in 1911, but he flunked out during his fourth year due to failing grades and violent assaults on fellow students. There's no record of him ever sitting for his OWLS. Your mother Merope Gaunt ... she never even got a Hogwarts letter." Harry laughed maliciously, so much so that it unnerved Jim.
"You know, Tom, in a fine old Pureblood family like the Gaunts, they have a word for children who don't get Hogwarts letters: Squibs. And they've got another word for the children of squibs and Muggles." Harry took a step towards the furious shade and grinned wickedly.
"Mudbloods!"
For a few seconds, the shade of Tom Riddle was too angry to even speak. Finally, he collected himself. "Then it is a good thing, Harry Potter, that in a few minutes, you'll be carrying the secret of my lineage to your graves. But you won't be the last!" He looked back and forth between the two boys with equal measures of hatred. "When Ron Weasley is dead and I am fully corporeal, I have many things to do before Lord Voldemort is fully reborn. But I think I've time enough to pay a visit to the infirmary, where a helpless and pitiful Albus Dumbledore waits for someone to put him out of his misery."
"You will not lay a FINGER on Albus Dumbledore!" Jim bellowed in a rage. "Not while there's a breath in my body!"
"Yes, well, very soon there won't be, Jim. You'll be preceding the old man in death, and soon Dumbledore will be nothing but a memory!
"Albus Dumbledore will never be gone from Hogwarts! Not while there's a single person left to remains loyal to him!"
Suddenly, from elsewhere in the chamber, there was a triumphant cry, and Fawkes, the Headmaster's phoenix familiar flew in carrying something in his talons. The phoenix circled and then dropped its cargo which landed nearby. It was the Sorting Hat. Riddle and both Potters stared at it in surprise before the shade snorted in amusement.
"So this is what Dumbledore sends his great defenders: a songbird and an old hat."
"Yeah," said Harry ruefully. "I have to say I'm a bit disappointed myself." Apparently, the Hat heard the boy's complaint as it let out a loud "ha-rumph!" in response.
Riddle turned away from the boys, raised his hands in supplication to the stone face of Salazar Slytherin, and began to speak in Parseltongue.
"Sssspeak to me...!"
Snickt! "SILENCIO!"
Instantly, Tom Riddle whirled around in a rage and began mouthing vulgar insults in the direction of Harry Potter, none of which could be heard.
"Right," Harry said calmly. "That's that, then." Then, he bent down to pick up Ron's bag while Jim looked back and forth between Harry and Riddle
"What?" he said.
"I said, 'that's that.' We're done here." He gave his confused sibling a cheeky smile. "You see, Little Brother, this is why it's important to learn the theory behind magic instead of just memorizing all the spells that you think you can use in a fight. Most attack spells require a physical form to target, and the Stunner, in particular, only works on things with functioning nervous systems. The Silencing Charm, on the other hand, will work on anything capable of making a sound, including ghosts and other intangible spirits. It was all on last year's Charms final." Harry pointed his wand towards the Diary. "ACCIO DIARY." The book flew out of Ron's grip, and Harry caught it within the book-bag containing the invisibility cloak and all Ron's other things. Then, he casually slung the bag over his shoulder.
"Now then, I'm going out to help Ginny open up a passage. And since you're the one who's been working out all year long, you can bring Ron. I guess a Fireman's Carry would work the best if you know how to do that." And with that, he turned towards the door.
"Wait, Harry!" Jim exclaimed as he grabbed Harry by the arm. "We can't just ... leave Riddle down here!" He pointed back towards the silent Riddle who was just glaring at them hatefully. "Can we?"
"Why not? The Silencio will last for a few hours unless somebody cancels it, and I'm pretty sure Ole Tom here, being an immaterial spirit with no wand, can't manage the wandless, wordless magic needed to do that himself. The only thing he could do to harm us is to summon and command the Basilisk, which he can't now. So, as I said, we're done here. Let's get Ron up topside where there's a school nurse, mostly likely a squad of aurors, and if all else fails, a fireplace that can connect to St. Mungo's."
"But ... we can't," Jim said in tongue-tied frustration. "I mean ... there's, you know, a Basilisk down here!" Then, he waved his arms as if helpless to explain any further. Harry studied his brother for a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed and his face darkened in anger.
"I. Don't. Believe. You!" he said through gritted teeth. Jim was surprised and slightly alarmed to realize he'd somehow made his brother angry.
"What?" he asked carefully.
"You're angry. You're actually angry that Slytherin cunning has resolved this whole problem simply and efficiently and thus deprived you of the chance to have some magnificent battle between yourself and Salazar Slytherin's giant ruddy snake!"
"... no?" Jim said with obvious embarrassment.
"YES! You said you wanted us to rescue Ron, but now that we're here and miraculously able to do that, you're angry that you won't get some great ... Gryffindorish battle against one of the deadliest creatures on Earth which is also the totemic symbol of my House! Unbelievable!"
"Harry...!" Jim said, his own anger starting to rise.
"You know, calling you a git seems inadequate somehow!" Harry said on a roll. "You're the Lord High Git of the British Isles! The Emperor Git of the World! No, wait! The Supreme Git of the Universe!"
"STOP CALLING ME A GIT!" Jim yelled.
"STOP ACTING LIKE A GIT! Harry yelled back.
"EXPELLIARMUS DUO!" Ron Weasley yelled to them both. Instantly, both boys' wands flew out of their hands to land on the ground somewhere behind the boy. Ron's wand was now pointed at the Potter Brothers. His face was a mask of contempt, and his eyes glowed a red the color of blood.
Harry and Jim stared in shock at Ron for a few seconds. Then, Harry whirled back towards Jim, still as angry as he was before.
"And on top of EVERYTHING ELSE, Jim, you got me so angry that I COMPLETELY FORGOT that the Diary can possess Ron!"
"Harry, SHUT UP!" Jim exclaimed before turning to his possessed friend. "Ron, listen to me! If there's any part of you that can understand me now, you've got to fight Riddle!"
The possessed boy sneered hatefully at his former friend. "Sorry, Jim. Ron's not here at the moment. Normally, I just put him into a deep dreamless sleep when I need direct control. But he's been a bit difficult lately, so I thought some punishment was in order. At the moment, Ron Weasley believes that he's sealed in a pine coffin that's buried six feet underground in a forgotten forest. It's cold, it's wet, it's pitch black ... and he is covered in spiders."
Jim blanched. He knew all too well about Ron's arachnophobia. "Ron" laughed at his expression of horror.
"He's calling for you, Jim. After everything that's happened, poor widdle Ron Weasley is screaming your name, begging you to forgive him his sins and save him from his fate." Then, the smile melted off the boy's face. "I just wanted you to know that before you died!" Then, he whirled around, and while keeping a wand on Jim and Harry, finished the phrase that opened up the chamber holding the Basilisk.
"Ssspeak to me, Ssslytherin! Greatessst of the Hogwartsss Four!" With a terrible grinding sound, the mouth of the face slowly started to lower, and from inside, Jim could hear a terrible hissing sound drawing nearer, one that spoke a mighty creatures hunger and desire to rip and shred its master's enemies.
"Okay, this is bad, but it's not the end of the world," Jim said in a shaky voice. "We just need to stay calm. We may not have wands, but we do have the invisibility..." Jim turned towards Harry only to see that the other boy was gone. "... cloak." He whirled around wildly and realized that his brother seemed to have vanished completely.
"Godammit, Harry!" he spat under his breath before turning tail and running away from the approaching Basilisk, slowing down only just enough to scoop up the Sorting Hat off the floor. Behind him, Jim could hear the sounds of Ron's voice hissing instructions in Parseltongue and the great serpent hissing back its obedience.
"Parseltongue won't save you, Potter. The Basilisk listens only to me! Now, let's see how Slytherin's Monster fares against the Great Jim Potter!"
Jim ran as fast as he could among the tall columns hoping that they were too close together for the snake to fit through. Then, he heard Fawkes's cry again, followed by Ron shouting angrily, and the Basilisk squealing in pain. He risked a glance back, and from a shadow on the wall, he could tell that Fawkes had successfully clawed out the Basilisk's eyes, thus neutralizing its petrification gaze.
"Your eyes will grow back eventually, my pet! Not even the talons of a phoenix can permanently mar you! And in the meantime, you can still smell Potter!" The Basilisk roared its agreement and then took off in the direction of where Jim was hidden. The boy ran, dodging columns as he went before darting down a side corridor with the snake close behind. Ron watched them depart and then started scanning the room for any signs of the other Potter's presence.
"Come out, Harry Potter. You may not be as brave as your Gryffindor brother, but that's no reason to be an utter coward!" There was a sound nearby, and Ron whirled around, letting loose with a Cutting Curse before he could even find the source of the sound. It was just a pebble skittering across the floor. Ron studied it with a frown and then whirled around towards the direction it had come from, but it was already too late.
"EXPELLIARMUS! INCARCEROUS!" The two spells hit the possessed boy before he had any chance to spot his opponent. The wand flew across the room towards Harry whose arm and head were all that was visible beneath the cloak. He caught the wand easily just as the bound Ron dropped to the floor.
"Alright, then," said Harry as he removed the clock, pocketing the spare wand as he did while keeping his own wand on his captive. "My brother has his snake to play with, so it's just you and me for now. Let's get better acquainted."
Jim and the Hat...
As Jim darted his way through the tall columns, he could hear the Basilisk behind him drawing ever nearer. It couldn't see him (though he thought he saw signs of the snake's eyes slowly regenerating), but the creature's senses of hearing and smell were undiminished. Jim's luck held, though, as he found an opening in the wall to small for the serpent to get through, one that dumped him into a channel flooded with brackish water. He coughed up the foul water and then coughed again from the dust that rained down on him from above as the Basilisk futilely bashed its head against the narrow opening. Wiping his brow clear of the filthy water, Jim stood up and staggered down the dark tunnel and away from the madly hissing snake.
After a few seconds though, he was in pitch darkness and couldn't risk proceeding any further. Exhausted, hurt, and beaten down, he finally remembered the musty (and now drenched) Sorting Hat still clutched in his hand. After wringing it out as best he could, Jim put the Hat on his head.
"I don't appreciate being wrung out like an old dishrag, Mr. Potter," it said.
"Yeah, well, I don't appreciate letting something that's been drenched in toilet water sit on my head, but we'll both have to make the best of it. Now, can you give me any help?"
"Not directly, I'm afraid."
"So why did Fawkes bring you then? Moral support? A song of encouragement, maybe?"
"Don't be facetious, Mr. Potter. I said I couldn't give direct aid. You can blame Godric for that, actually. When the four Founders had their little argument over the Basilisk's design, Godric could have insisted on having the same influence over it that Rowena Ravenclaw received."
"What sort of influence?" Jim asked.
"Let's just say that if you had the different item of head gear right now, you could simply order the Basilisk away. But you don't, so here we are." The Hat paused. "Actually, I take it back. There is one form of direct aid I can give you."
With that, Jim gasped. Even though the Hat was covering his eyes, he found that he could now see perfectly well despite the darkness of the tunnel.
"Nice!" he said. He thought for a few seconds about what the Hat had said. "Godric could have asked for influence over the Basilisk, but he didn't. So what did he ask for?"
"Ah, now you're finally thinking. From the start, Godric believed that the Basilisk was too dangerous to be allowed in the school no matter how many constraints were placed upon it."
"And obviously, he was right," Jim interrupted.
"I take back what I said about you thinking. The Basilisk lay in its secret chamber for over eight centuries without incident until Tom Riddle gained access to it. If anything, the mistake was Rowena's. Only a Parselmouth who also possessed the Ravenclaw Diadem could overcome the Basilisk's conditioning and use it against the Headmaster and the rest of the faculty, to say nothing of using against other Parselmouths. The serpent was always particularly susceptible to Parseltongue; but for the prevailing influence of the Diadem, you'd be able to control it just as well as ... any other Parselmouth.
Jim thought about that. "So what did Godric Gryffindor demand in exchange for letting Slytherin grow his Basilisk?"
"Unfortunately, I can't answer that. Not yet."
"Why not?! Lives are in danger!"
"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Potter. But I am constrained by the limitations placed on me by my creator just as the Basilisk is by its. I can't give you the aid you need until you prove yourself worthy."
"And how do I do that?" Jim said impatiently.
The Hat hesitated before finally speaking. "Let's start by talking about your family."
Harry and Tom ...
Ron's face twisted into an inhuman snarl as Tom Riddle spoke through him. "You actually mean to interrogate me, boy?"
Harry shrugged. "We've got some time to kill while Jim's handling the snake."
Ron laughed. "You believe Jim Potter stands a chance against the Basilisk?"
"As obnoxious as my brother is, he has a way of pulling off miracles where Voldemort is concerned."
"Well, I hope you aren't expecting him to charm his way out. The Basilisk responds to my will and mine alone."
"Ah," said Harry brightly. "So you do have the Diadem of Ravenclaw. The only way to control the Basilisk that trumps Parseltongue!"
Ron's eyes widened slightly. "Very astute. I have ... claimed mastery of the Diadem, though it's not with me know. I can access its properties from any distance so I keep it in a safe place. I take it you found the 1st Edition of Hogwarts: A History?"
Harry nodded. "To be honest, I'm wondering how Dumbledore and everyone else missed it."
The possessed boy smirked, and Harry suppressed the urge to fist-pump. He'd known from his last encounter with Voldemort that the enemy couldn't resist the chance to show off his own cleverness.
"By writing messages from 'the Heir of Slytherin,' I directly invoked the government-sponsored propaganda about Slytherin and his supposed desire to purge the school of Mudbloods. Dumbledore knew that Slytherin didn't really have any such desire, nor any heirs that Hogwarts was capable of recognizing. When he researched more recent books about the school, they all agreed that the Chamber of Secrets was just a legend, and Professor Binns was insistent that the Chamber and the Monster didn't exist. Accepting all that at face value, Dumbledore naturally assumed that the 'Heir of Slytherin' references were a red-herring meant to lead him astray and that the true cause of the petrifications was some new curse or dark object that had been smuggled into the school in 1943. The Ministry banned all copies Hogwarts: A History prior to its fourth edition and burned most of those editions it could find in the early 17th century, so it's quite possible that Dumbledore didn't even know the school had a copy of the highly-illegal first edition locked away in a vault within the Restricted Section." Ron laughed. "Reports of Albus Dumbledore's omniscience were always overrated."
"I'll keep that in mind in the future," Harry said. "I take it he never even tried to read you with Legilimency?"
"Natural Occlumens, since early childhood. I suspect that was part of why the old fool distrusted me so much. Oh, and for the record, Potter? You shouldn't count on having a future."
"Moving along," Harry said archly, "if even Dumbledore didn't know about the first edition book, how did you find it?"
Ron studied Harry for a few seconds and then smiled. "How else? Several facets of the Hydra are prone to gossip, as I'm sure you know."
Harry stayed silent.
"Oh yes, Harry Potter. I've known for months that you're a Parselmouth who seeks to become the next Prince of Slytherin, despite your debased lineage. But you're not there yet, and a Prince-Emeritus has privileges that outrank a mere claimant like yourself. I commanded the Hydra Throne to refuse to acknowledge any Parselmouth but me, and it conveyed my orders to the rest of the school's serpents. I knew it would be impossible to move freely about the school, let alone make use of the Basilisk, if the Hogwarts serpents were providing you with intelligence."
"Yeah," said Harry. "I'd figured as much. I owe you for that, Tom Riddle." He took a deep breath. "But what I really want to know right now is ... what happened to you?! Tom Riddle was respected by most of the school as a Muggleborn who'd been successful in Slytherin at a time when Blood Purity politics was at its height. Granted, your fellow Slytherins must have treated you awfully, but you had a network of Muggleborn friends that you were forging into a powerful clique, one of whom went on to become the first Muggleborn Minister of Magic! And then, you threw it all away to change your name, invent a new heritage, and become the leader of a Pureblood death cult. Did accidentally killing Myrtle Warren affect you that much?"
"Spare me your appeals to sentimentality, Potter. The Mudblood's death meant nothing to me!"
"Now see, I don't believe a word of that. Sociopaths can be charming, but not that charming. Too many people found you likeable for it to all be an act, and Myrtle still cares for you and believes you cared about her even though she died as a result of your actions. She also says that after she died, you changed. Guilty heart, Tom?
Ron laughed menacingly. "I did change that night, but for the better! You're right, Potter. Up until the night Myrtle died, I was still weak, still convinced that I could change the system from within. That I could gain power with the aid of my friends." The last word fairly dripped with contempt. "But as that ... Mudblood lay on the floor dead, I suddenly realized what a fool I was to have ever cared for anyone else. I almost succumbed to weakness then, but I found the strength to resist and power through. And that's when I realized the singular truth that has guided me ever since – other people don't matter. Now do you understand?"
Harry sat silently as he absorbed what Ron – no, what Voldemort – had said. Harry understood perfectly – understood and shuddered at the knowledge. The boy now knew exactly how Tom Riddle became Voldemort ... because he had come within an angel's breath of doing the very same thing himself. The previous summer, barely a week after Elizabeth Podmore wsa killed simply for the sin of being an invited guest at the Potter birthday party, Harry stood in Artemus Podmore's office and watched the man break down in tears. In response, Harry felt his own heart overflow with grief and regret and shame and survivor guilt, as well as an empathy for Artie's suffering that was so deep that it burned. At that moment, Harry desperately wanted to simply not feel those painful emotions, and even at that early point in his Occlumency training, he knew he had the option of not feeling them. And the only reason he didn't take that option was because Artie had already reached out to the boy to let him know that the man cared about him and that the late Elizabeth Podmore had cared for him as well, even before they'd met face to face, even though she knew that caring for someone like Harry Potter might be dangerous. With that knowledge, the emotional dam that Harry had unwittingly been building finally burst, and he'd wept alongside Artie, unashamed of his own emotions. And since that day, he'd never again considered using Occlumency to shut those emotions down completely.
But on the night Myrtle Warren died, there had been no one on hand to show similar compassion to the boy who had accidentally killed her. Raised in a brutal orphanage and Sorted into a House primed to hate him, Tom Riddle had finally found a group of friends to care about and who would care about him... until one of them died because of a stupid accident in the course of a scheme he'd cooked up to make life better for them all. Alone and terrified, grief-stricken and guilt-ridden, Tom Riddle was overcome with negative emotions and decided that whatever the cost, he would never feel that way again. And so he turned his Occlumency inward and permanently destroyed his capacity to feel love or empathy for others.
And thus, Tom Riddle died alongside Myrtle Warren ... and Lord Voldemort was born to take his place.
Jim and the Hat ...
"Is this really the best time to talk about my family issues?!" Jim snapped.
"No time like the present. It was my understanding that you were supposed to be getting counseling after that unpleasantness with Mr. Rookwood's Occlumency book, but, well, what with one thing after another, it never really happened, now did it?"
"And you're volunteering to be my counselor? Now? While I'm hiding from a giant snake in an ancient sewer?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Now, first question: What do you believe is the worst thing that can possibly happen to you in the future?"
Jim shook his head at the idiocy of the question. "Pretty sure it's getting eaten by the giant snake that's stalking me through the aforementioned ancient sewer. Can you think of anything worse than that?"
"Well, I was beginning to wonder, Mr. Potter. So I take then that you now think dying is a worse fate than having to risk the scorn and opprobrium of the wizarding world as a result of being a Parselmouth? Not to mention standing up to your father's bigotry over that same issue?"
"HOW CAN THIS POSSIBLY BE THE TIME TO DISCUSS THIS!?" the boy yelled in a fury.
"It's the only time we have, Jim. Because I cannot help you unless I know you're a Gryffindor through and through. Do you know how Godric Gryffindor died, Jim?"
The boy paused, now genuinely curious despite his anger at the Hat. "I dunno. Heroically?"
The Hat laughed softly. "Godric died in his bed and in great pain of an illness that could have been cured had it been caught early. If it had been properly diagnosed, he might have lived another twenty or thirty years. But he was afraid of appearing weak before the other Founders. Afraid that what he mistakenly thought were merely the signs of advancing age meant that he would cease to be the legend that he had become in the eyes of the witches and wizards who thought him an invincible hero. And so he concealed his growing weakness from the other Founders until it was too late."
Jim was surprised to hear the profound sadness in the Hat's voice. Then, he remembered – the Sorting Hat had actually been Godric Gryffindor's own personal hat until he'd enchanted it to sort the students.
"You're quite right, Jim," the Hat said softly, surprising the boy by reading his thoughts. "While I was not given the task of Sorting until Hogwarts first opened, Godric's magic made me self-aware long before then. I was his companion and advisor for many, many years even as I tirelessly kept the rain and sun off of his brow."
Jim stood still and thought about everything the Hat had said. Did he really think that risking his life to be a hero was preferable to the mere thought of people ... not liking him? He took a deep breath to steady himself as he explored that realization.
"Hat? I'm ... pretty messed up, aren't I?"
The Sorting Hat laughed softly. "No more than any other hero, Jim."
"I ... need to save Ron, Hat. I've got a lot of thinking to do ... ya know, if I survive this. I ... I don't want to be afraid anymore." He lowered his head. "Assuming we do make it through this, can ... can we speak together again?"
"I'll discuss it with Albus, but I don't think it will be a problem. But first things first – reach inside me."
Confused, Jim took the Hat off and stuck his hand inside. He became even more confused when he discovered he could reach in all the way up to his armpit. Then, his hand found and closed around something hard and unyielding. He withdrew his hand and was amazed to see that he now held a gleaming silver sword inlaid with rubies. On the hilt was inscribed the name Godric Gryffindor in a medieval script, and in faint etching along the blade was a Latin inscription that Jim recognized from the bedtime stories his father had told him of Gryffindor when he'd been a child:
"Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet."
"He who feared he would not succeed sat still."
Jim studied the legendary blade in awe. Then, he placed the Hat back on his head and began searching for a way out of the sewer. He had people to save.
Harry and Tom ...
Harry had been quiet for several seconds after his epiphany about Voldemort's personality. He decided to change the subject. But first, he opened up the bag and levitated the Diary out and onto the floor.
"So, the Diary? How does it work? And who taught you the enchantments?"
"No one taught me, Potter!" Ron spat angrily. Harry thought it was eerie seeing Ron Weasley sneer and spit like early First Year Draco Malfoy.
"Not to mention the Dark Lord Voldemort is surprisingly immature, at least in this form," he noted. "And conveniently easy to provoke."
"Really?" Harry said dubiously. "You came up with this yourself?"
Ron raised his chin arrogantly. "The earliest iteration of the Diary I made as a Third Year. A complex variation on the Switching Charm to enchant a regular Muggle diary so that it could record my thoughts and memories and organize them as I wished. It was years after leaving Hogwarts that my little project found a second purpose ... as the key to my immortality!"
Harry nodded at that. Then, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at the book on the floor. "INCENDIO!" The gout of flames did nothing to the Diary, not even to singe the edges. Ron laughed.
"Fool! The same effect that binds a part of my very soul to that book – and consequently to this foolish boy who so freely used it – also makes the Diary impervious to all spells. Dumbledore himself couldn't undo what I have wrought."
"And now, you're leeching away Ron's life to form a new body for yourself. I bet you didn't learn that at Hogwarts."
"The basic concept was described in a book I found in the Restricted Section, though I had to search the world to find the actual spell. And yes, before too long, I will be powerful enough to manifest corporeally. And then, none of your tricks will save you."
"Yeah, probably not. Tricks have absolutely never saved me before, not even once. I am curious though. You said earlier that you would become corporeal, presumably in the form of sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, and then you'd take revenge on Dumbledore before Voldemort was fully reborn. What was that all about?"
The other boy was silent.
"I mean, obviously, Voldemort would not have set up his resurrection so that he would be reborn into the form of an angsty teenager who looked nothing like the Dark Lord who the Death Eaters used to follow. So what's the plan? Age yourself into Voldemort? Or create a new body for the spirit version of Voldemort we fought last year? I mean, you didn't know anything about what happened last year until Ron told you, so you obviously haven't been connected to the real Voldemort since before that. Do you even remember what happened when Jim destroyed you when he was a baby?"
Ron remained silent, but he was visibly angry now.
"For that matter, do you remember anything about what's happened to the real Voldemort since the day he put a part of his soul in the book? But no – that would be stupid. Surely Voldemort wouldn't make his resurrection dependent on a copy of himself that was limited to his school day memories, knowledge and personality." Harry thought for a moment. "But then, surely he wouldn't arrange for the piece of his soul that's going to bring him back to life to be sent to Hogwarts in the hands of someone like Ron Weasley either! To be carried around by Jim Potter's best friend under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore himself! I mean, Voldemort's bold and aggressive and, yes, insane, but not stupidly insane. If you're really the only thing keep his soul from moving ... on..." Harry's voice trailed off as he thought back over what he'd just said. Ron studied him carefully while trying to maintain a neutral expression. Harry's eyes widened.
"Oh. Ooooooh! Of course! I see it now!" Harry started pacing excitedly. "You're not Voldemort's diary! You're Voldemort's first draft! His prototype! First, he figures out how to bind a piece of his soul into something in such a way that it will be limited to his sixteen-year-old personality and power levels. That way, if something goes wrong and the soul fragment develops too much independence, he doesn't have to worry about accidentally creating a rival instead of a servant. And then, once he knows the process works..." Harry paused and then looked down at the bound and possessed boy lying at his feet.
"How many of you are there, Tom Riddle?" he asked in quiet wonder. "Just how many books and baubles and trinkets did Voldemort leave lying around for innocent dupes to find and start the process of bringing him back?!"
Ron sneered. "That doesn't matter. One is all that's necessary, as you'll see momentarily. Nothing you can do will stop the Diary from doing its work."
Harry stared at the other boy as he considered that. "I suppose it's true that I don't know any spells that can destroy that book. But tell me, is your current host also fireproof?"
He pointed his wand at Ron's face, and steeled himself. The possessed boy paled. But then, before Harry could cast any spells, he heard someone running towards him. It was Jim Potter, entering from the far side of Salazar Slytherin's statue, with the Sorting Hat on his head and in his right hand ...
"Seriously?!" Harry yelled in shock and amazement. "You actually found the Sword of Gryffindor what's been lost for centuries?! What happened? Did you just trip over it in the dark or something?"
"No," Jim replied while trying to catch his breath. "It was inside the Hat!"
"That's ... WHAT?!"
But before Jim could say anything more, there was a rumbling sound from nearby. Then, before either boy could respond, there was an explosion of water from the small moat surrounding Slytherin's stone head, and the Basilisk burst forth with a roar of anger. It immediately tried to smash Jim to a pulp with its body, but the boy was barely able to leap out of the way. Unfortunately, the force of the creature's impact knocked Jim to the ground hard roughly forty feet away from Harry, and he lost the sword which skidded across the floor before coming to a rest just out of reach of either twin.
"FORGET THAT ONE!" yelled Ron. "KILL THE...!"
"SILENCIO." Harry silenced Ron almost casually without ever taking his eyes off the writhing Basilisk. It roared and lunged again towards Jim who was still on the ground trying to crawl towards the sword.
"PROTEGO!" Harry cast the Shield Spell over Jim with all his might, and the Basilisk's attack was deflected ... barely. The force of the blow caused Harry to drop to one knee and cry out in pain. The Basilisk hammered the shield again and again until Harry's eyes started to water from the strain. He couldn't cast any other spells while maintaining the Protego over Jim (who himself couldn't move without leaving the shield and becoming vulnerable), and anyway Harry didn't know any spells that could get through the thick hide of the Basilisk. The Sword of Gryffindor which was spelled to incapacitate the beast was lying ten feet away and completely useless. Then, Harry's shield collapsed, and the Basilisk roared in triumph ... only to then shriek in pain as a red light enveloped its head and a voice cried out from someplace nearby.
Harry turned his head and did a double-take. Ginny Weasley stood in the entrance to the Chamber, filthy, bruised, exhausted, and yet strangely exultant. Harry turned back to look at the shrieking Basilisk. It reared up its head, and the snake's giant nostrils expanded and then cracked, spraying out a reddish-grey substance which coalesced into winged bat-like shapes that began to attack and distract the Basilisk.
Harry stared in slack-jawed amazement as he processed this. "Okay," he thought. "The Bat-Bogey Hex can apparently affect a Basilisk. Makes sense, I guess, since it specifically targets the nostrils and that lets it bypass the magic-resistant scales. I wonder if that might be a question on my OWLS."
Then, shaking off his surprise, he pointed his wand at the nearby sword. "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA." The blade flew through the air to land in Jim's outstretched hand.
"Thanks!" the boy yelled.
Harry nodded and then tried to yell instructions over the deafening cries of the Basilisk and the two shrieking Basilisk-Bogeys that were still attacking it. "NOW WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED, JUST STAB THE THING! THE SWORD'S ENCHANTED TO PUT IT SLEEP WITH A SINGLE ... ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!"
Unfortunately, Jim either could not hear Harry or he was so focused on his own plan that he was ignoring his twin. Instead, he started yelling and waving his arms to attract the beast's attention. Harry was gobsmacked when he realized what Jim was doing. "Or I suppose you could just let it EAT YOU and then stab it to death from the inside!" he thought angrily. "I guess that would work too!"
But to Harry's amazement, it appeared that really was the boy's plan! The Basilisk finally noticed Jim's activities and with a roar plunged its gaping maw straight towards the boy. In the distance, Ginny screamed, but Harry could only watch in horror as the huge mouth seemed poised to swallow Jim whole. Then, at the last possible second, Jim thrust the sword into the Basilisk's mouth, and the tip of the blade sliced up through the creature's brain and out the top of its head! By reflex, the Basilisk jerked back, almost pulling the sword out of Jim's hand, and then it flailed in obvious agony before collapsing in a heap. Jim Potter had killed Slytherin's Monster.
If only he'd done it cleanly.
Jim watched the monster die and then gasped in sudden pain. He looked down at his shoulder, and his eyes widened at the sight of the six-inch-long Basilisk fang protruding from it. He reached up and with a painful gasp, pulled the thing free and tossed it across the room. By this time, Ginny had run up to him, and she caught him and supported him before he could fall. The two slowly moved towards Harry and the still-prone Ron.
"Ahem. As I was saying, Little Brother, Godric Gryffindor's sword is specifically enchanted to bypass the Basilisk's defenses and neutralize it without difficulty. All you had to do was nick it somewhere, which would have been easy since its scales can't block the magical sword!"
"Harry, stop being a prat!" Ginny exclaimed. "Jim's been bitten!"
"Yes, I know. I promise it's the very second thing on my to-do list. ACCIO SWORD." With that, the Sword of Gryffindor flew out of Jim's hand, and Harry caught it easily. He retracted his wand and carefully examined the sword.
"Hmm. The fabled Sword of Gryffindor. Just like it was described in Hogwarts: A History. And as that book says, it contains the power to absorb into itself the powers and property of whatever it defeats. Which, in this case, means its now permanently poisoned with basilisk venom." He turned towards Ron. "The perfect thing for ridding us all of a pesky Dark Lord."
"Harry, NO!" Ginny screamed.
"Harry, don't!" Jim said weakly. "It's not ... Ron's ... fault."
"Oh honestly, you two!" Harry replied. "I'm not dense! I know perfectly well that Ron's just a puppet in all this. And I also know who's pulling the strings." With that, he stepped over to the Diary which still lay on the floor. Reversing his grip on the pommel, he raised the sword and then drove it straight through the center of the book. Immediately, Ron threw his head back and screamed, though it was still silenced. Then, Harry put his foot on the book to brace it before grabbing the sword with both hands and slicing it nearly in two. There was a loud pop as Harry's Silencio broke, and now all three could hear an unearthly howl emanating from Ron Weasley's mouth. The scream was soon followed by a billowing black smoke that poured from his mouth, his nostrils and his eyes. The smoke rose higher and higher before taking the form of a monstrous black humanoid figure with glowing red eyes. Ginny screamed, but Jim just stared up at the figure resolutely, while Harry actually grinned at it.
"I believe this makes it Potters 3. Voldemort 0," he said smugly.
The black figure roared its anger before dissipating into nothingness. Immediately, Harry dropped the sword and pulled his wand to cast a Diagnostic Charm on Ron.
"His life force is no longer being drained," Harry reported. "He's unconscious but otherwise fine. Under the circumstances, though, I'd recommend leaving him to rest. There's a good chance he'll be traumatized when he wakes up."
"Tha's good. Thans' Har... ry." With that, Jim's knees buckled and he dropped out of Ginny's grasp and onto the floor.
"Jim!" she exclaimed.
Harry sauntered over. "Basilisk venom is one of the most dangerous poisons in the world, Ginny. I expect he'll need a cure within the next minute if he's to have any chance of surviving. Which, to be honest, is the sort of fate one should expect if he does something as stupid as sticking his arm into a Basilisk's mouth!"
"Merlin, Harr', m'dyin already. Do ya have'ta nag me t'death too?" Jim smiled weakly at that, while Ginny began to cry.
"Oh, you're not dying, Little Brother," Harry said almost mockingly. "Once again, Slytherin cunning is here to save Gryffindor rashness from itself. Because it just so happens that I have..." he reached into an inside pocket to remove a small object, "a bezoar!" Harry held the tiny stone up so that Jim could see it and then smiled smugly. Artie Podmore had gotten it for him every since the doxie incident, since if he'd had one and swallowed it, he'd have been completely immune to their poison.
"Bezoars ... don't work on ... basilisk poison. Snape said so ... firs' day." Bizarrely, Jim grinned at delivering the news, even as his vision seemed to blur. Immediately, the smiled dropped from Harry's face to be replaced by a scowl. He looked away and closed his eyes to bring up the appropriate memory. To Harry's shock, Jim was absolutely right. Snape had specifically said that a bezoar was ineffective against basilisk poison, but at the time, Harry had been so intent on embarrassing his brother that he failed to absorb the information.
"How the hell did you remember that?!" he asked in shock.
Jim coughed. "Spent ... lotta time ... thinkin' 'bout that day. -cough- Never did 'pologize ta Snape. Do that for me -cough- wouldja, Harry?"
Harry didn't respond. Instead, he closed his eyes and dilated as hard as he ever had, trying desperately to come up with a plan. But he couldn't. Jim would be dead in under a minute. There was no way to get him to Madam Pomfrey in that time, even assuming she had the means and skill to cure basilisk poison. And St. Mungo's might as well be on the moon as relevant as it was to their present circumstances. So with no other options, Harry did the only thing he could do – seal away his negative emotions for the moment and put on a brave face so that Jim's death would be as peaceful as possible.
"Snape's not big on apologies. I think he considers them a sign of weakness. And anyway, if you really want to apologize to Snape, do it yourself. I don't think for one second you're about to die!"
Jim smiled weakly. "Basilisk poison, Har' -cough- sorry, you hated it when I called ya that, din't ya -cough-."
"My name has two syllable, Jim," Harry said softly. "Just because you can only handle one for yourself doesn't mean you can't handle both of mine."
Jim laughed, but then gasped loudly in pain from the exertion. "Well, if I can't 'pologize ta Snape ... can I do it for you?"
"Jim..." Harry started.
"I was jealous. Can ya believe it? -cough- I ... I never knew 'bout you 'til you got your letter. Then, Mum 'n Dad told me. 'Was afraid you'd hate me for staying w'them while you ... Then, you went t'Slytherin and I was sure you hated me. So I decided ... to hate you back. So stupid." Then, a single tear flowed down Jim's cheek.
"Stop that," Harry said almost irritably. "No more deathbed confessions. You're the Boy-Who-Lived. Chosen by Fate to defeat the Evil Voldemort. Any second now ... I dunno, some absurd deus ex machina is going to show up and miraculously save you."
"Not ... this ... time. -cough- Tell ... Ron ... I..." Jim Potter said nothing more. He simply closed his eyes.
Ginny was weeping uncontrollably. "Harry ... he's stopped breathing. I ... I think he's ..."
Before she could finish, there was a loud fwoosh and an explosion of flame nearby. Suddenly, Fawkes was there. The phoenix glided in and landed on Jim's chest. It bent its radiantly plumed head down over the boy's wound, and tears fell from the bird's eyes into the opening. Harry thought he heard a soft sizzle coming from the wound. After a moment, Jim gasped heavily and opened his eyes wide to look around. Within seconds, it was obvious that he was going to be fine.
"Hmmph!" Harry said loudly with an almost bored expression. "Caaaaalllled It!"
The next chapter will be posted sometime between May 9th and 11th, 2016. Title TBA.
AN 1: Obviously, we're in the home stretch here. Four or five chapters at most until the end.