"Football – the money involved alone…" Herido stated confidently as he and Daphne approached Myrtle's bathroom at a brisk, but dignified pace.
She shook her head with a sly smile. "You mean American Football." The blonde corrected with a slight curling of the lip, before returning just as surely: "Actual Football. The kind played by the entire world." Harry paused to look at her askance, before opening the bathroom door and leading them inside. Sport wasn't a topic he thought she'd have looked into during her last year of exposure to the muggle world. Then again, he supposed, their best friends did include Draco and the Weasleys, so maybe she hadn't had a choice in the matter. He suddenly had a wonderful mental image of her in a wizarding style formal gown, sitting stiffly amongst thousands of rowdy home fans, face like a lemon and wand at the ready.
"Land of the Free." He eventually returned, while taking out a small tub, and somehow making a perfect free hand circle of table salt in the middle of the floor. "Leaders of democracy."
"The Magna Carta." He was about to call out Myrtle's name, but paused to look at her again, this time in quiet disbelief. Ah, Hermione, he thought – a great deal of her initial exposure was done at the muggleborn's house. Daphne saw his look and smirked slightly: "Which means we had civilized democracy hundreds of years before your country was even discovered." Her face was triumphant, and although he didn't agree, he had to concede that was a good one.
Undeterred, he continued: "Native American non-intrusive healing magics. Myrtle!" He called suddenly for the ghost when he noticed that quietly triumphant look increase threefold. He must have been getting desperate, Daphne thought.
The young ghost appeared in the circle and started moaning about the aggressive method of summoning, but was ignored for a moment while the living children had some kind of stand-off.
"Lord Voldemort." Daphne declared, a note of finality to her voice indicating her belief that she'd won. "The most powerful Dark Lord on record." She was sure she'd stumped him with that one, so was a little surprised by the way he cocked his head to the side while regarding her in utter confusion.
"How's that a bad thing?!"
"It, it's not." She replied, now also confused. "'My country's better than your country:' America can't one-up Lord Voldemort." Her confidence that she'd won faded when she saw his sly smile, and she knew she'd been mistaken. They weren't playing 'My country's better than yours' at all, were they? Knowing Herido, they were probably playing 'Whose country is worse?' She'd nervously initiated the conversation in the hopes it would distract the murderous intent rolling from her friend, but now she realized he must have noticed how emotionally taut she was as well, and was likewise trying to help her calm down. He obviously enjoyed confusing his friends with his unpredictable weirdness, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he'd got her, and that it had worked, so she turned her attention to the ghost, who was now crying heavily about being ignored.
Heri smiled as she turned away. She was a talented socialite, and had an answer for everything, especially when she didn't entirely understand the topic being discussed, which is why he'd taken point in the short debate. Usually such talents were used to keep conversation flowing, to show interest, or to win favour. He preferred to see them used this way.
With a séance now unnecessary, things progressed quickly from there. Herido threatened to confine the ghost in her grave, with her own decomposed body for all eternity, and in a round-about way, Myrtle hastily pointed them straight to the Chamber's entrance.
To Heri's great amusement, Daphne eyed the dark hole with a frown and took out her wand, instantly tying back her hair and changing into a grey jumpsuit before making the leap, only to change herself back once she was safely back on her feet and dusted off. It was only then he realized she must have done likewise after their fight a short time earlier, because she was the only one of their group not spattered (or in Ron's case, covered), in arachnoid blood.
"What?" She asked with that same chilling superiority she used with the rest of the school, but Heri merely laughed, before taking them further into the darkness.
All his friends were so weird.
When they stepped down into Slytherin's Chamber Daphne wasted no time in running across the damp stones, forgetting dignity and propriety as she rushed to Hermione's side to make sure she was alright. Herido took a more sedate pace, his eyes darting around to assess danger, while his magic reached out to assess his muggleborn friend. The Chamber was even cozier than the dungeons, the perfect place to leave a legacy, he thought. He only looked down at the unconscious girl once he'd reached her side. He could hear a heartbeat, and relaxed a little. It was weak, but it was steady – She had time.
"I must thank you, Herido." Tom's soft voice rang throughout the Chamber, causing Heri to turn just in time to see the other boy approaching from the shadows, Hermione's wand hanging loosely from his worryingly corporeal hand. "It turns out you were right: Mudbloods do have their value after all." He said with a smirk at the dying girl. He used the slur to purposely rile up the other boy. "In many ways they can be just as useful as purebloods, and I never would have considered using one before." The Granger girl turned out to be far more powerful than the Weasley chit, and given all the Dark magic she used, that power was more effective for Tom's purpose. "Why kill a Pureblood, when a mudblood is just as effective? And this foolish little girl came to me willingly."
"I imagine she was better company too." Heri responded with an unconcerned air, his dark eyes laughing at the disgusted sneer he was sent for suggesting that Tom could do anything more than tolerate the presence of a muggleborn. He wouldn't rise to the baiting.
"Marginally." Tom gave reluctantly. The truth was much more embarrassing. With Ginny, he'd had to endure torturous hour after torturous hour of ridiculous, inconsequential whining and gossip. Granger though had sought out the Diary specifically to speak with him, and as with Herido before, all she cared to talk about was Voldemort and magic.
"I should thank you too, Voldemort." Tom raised an eyebrow. He'd never expected Herido to come here throwing Avada Kedavras, but he didn't imagine the boy would be thanking him for killing a friend either. "You really pushed my tolerance this year, and forced me to take the time to truly appreciate my friends. If you'd have come here last year, I'd have likely let you have your way."
"Herido!" Came Daphne's shocked outcry from behind him. She'd removed the Diary from the other girl's arms, but the distance didn't seem to make any difference.
Heri ignored her and continued:
"You should have stuck with Ginny. As it stands now, I'm afraid I just can't let you kill one of my friends. I apologize." He told Tom sadly, sincerely, spreading his arms as if to say 'what can you do?'
"I think you will. What choice do you have?" Tom's smirk was back, and it unsettled Herido greatly. Tom was very aware of Herido's dangerous aura at that moment, but he'd spent his time with the Addams family learning and observing all he could, and he was confident he could extrapolate Herido's actions in this matter.
"I…" Heri cut himself off as he realized Tom was right. Taking a step back to look at his first friend, whose pulse was slowing gradually, he felt a clammy chill spread across his skin – the sensation of lying in a shallow grave. Every option he thought up to deal with the situation was unusable. They all left him at a profound loss.
Tom had played this too well, much to Herido's chagrin. By using someone Heri cared about, he'd ensured there was no way the boy could stop him. He'd played to checkmate before Herido could even make his first move.
Tom watched as Addams' eyes narrowed into slits, the almost black of his irises barely visible as he considered his friend. He decided it might be best not to let the boy think over his options too much, just in case. The girl didn't have too much time left, so he decided to try a distraction. All he had to do was buy himself enough time.
"Did you enjoy the spiders?"
"Yes, they were a rare treat. Thank you." Heri said politely, but distractedly.
Had Ginny been here, and for some reason Herido wanted to stop Tom, he could have simply killed her, thereby cutting off Tom's power supply. He wouldn't kill Hermione though.
"Would you like to meet the basilisk?" Tom tempted, a sly smile showing that he already knew the answer.
"Hm,"
Yet to save Hermione he'd have to kill Tom, and that was not an option either.
The absently given agreement was enough for Tom to call Slytherin's monster, and the sound of Parseltongue snapped Herido to attention. It was strange to hear it from another human.
As he heard the serpent approaching from somewhere beyond the giant statue of Slytherin, he sent Tom a dramatic sigh. "I didn't mean now."
"Well, she's already on her way. It would be rude not to say 'hello'." The sly smile remained. "And I'm curious to see if you can deal with her as easily as you did her prey."
Heri started to pull loose his tie, while frowning deeply. He knew Tom was distracting him, but he couldn't exactly ignore a basilisk!
Most people thought Heri a psychopath, and maybe they were right, but even psychopaths had standards, and he was deeply, deeply, uncomfortable with the idea of destroying a soul. It was so much worse than simply taking a life.
"Come on, Voldemort. Don't make me kill a basilisk." He whined childishly, almost pouting despite the dire circumstances. "Pugsley and Wednesday would never forgive me!" He pulled the tie free as the snake poked its head out into the Chamber, and taking the two steps to Daphne, tied it securely over her eyes. He had faith that he'd be able to fight a battle without giving in to the temptation to open his eyes, but he didn't want to risk it with those less trained. It was best to keep his eyes closed anyway, if only so that no one would see how excited he was to meet the basilisk – if not for the circumstances it would have been like Christmas come early.
Daphne protested loudly, until she heard the hissing getting closer and decided she was safer blind. There was nothing she could do about the basilisk, so she trusted that Heri would deal with it and focused once more on her other friend. In that moment she wished she'd studied more, maybe if she'd studied soul magic she'd be able to figure out how to sever the bond between the book and Hermione. Imagining a large pair of ethereal scissors wasn't helping! She placed her fingers back over the pulse point on Hermione's wrist.
"Let's see if that infamous Addams magic can match the power of the basilisk. Its skin is said to be nigh on impenetrable." Tom was saying.
"You flatter me." Heri hit back, cocking his head to follow the movement of the serpent. He could hear it had come to a stop beside Tom. "But I don't need Addams magic to defeat a basilisk – you forget that the last study was done by wizards hundreds of years ago – the world has progressed since then." He grinned down at Daphne, even though she couldn't see him. "In a fight, a good American will always beat a good Englishman." He told her before turning back. "And you forget that really, Addams or not, I'm just your average American boy." He snapped his fingers, and a hunting riffle appeared in his waiting hand. His katana could have cut the basilisk down, but he felt Tom was making a point that all his power came from being lucky enough to have been born an Addams, and while this wouldn't usually bother him at all, with Voldemort he wanted to prove himself. "Please don't make me kill this creature." He repeated the plea, aiming the gun right at the beast's eyes as a threat, despite his own lack of sight, and ever cautious that Tom could give the order to attack at any moment.
"You'd blind a basilisk?" Tom asked in mock horror, and genuine disgust.
"She's not much of a threat without her eyes." Herido shrugged, even though inside he was sick at the mere thought of doing such a terrible, unconscionable thing.
"She could still smell you, hear you, and I'm sure you realise her venom is…"
"Salad dressing." Heri finished honestly. He felt relief, but it wasn't reflected in his still defensive stance. When Tom had started to assess Heri's battle plan, Heri had come to realize his foe had no intention of letting him kill Slytherin's pet. He was merely stalling him, and now Heri knew Tom wouldn't send the snake on a kamikaze mission, it would no longer work.
He snapped his fingers again, this time the gun disappeared and was replaced by a rocket launcher. Bluff called.
If it were a different student, Heri would have been of the opinion that dying for the purpose of returning Lord Voldemort to power was definitely a death to be proud of. A death day to be celebrated. But he didn't think it was Hermione's time to pass on quite yet. It was disgustingly selfish of him – to deny her such a gloriously honourable death, but he hardly cared.
To show he was serious, and that the game was over, Heri fired a rocket into a far corner of the Chamber. The resulting blast shook the entire room, the far corner collapsed, and small bits of rubble fell over the four students as they braced themselves against the bang that was amplified by the room's brilliant acoustics. The scent of Daphne's blood filled the air, and he turned back to ensure it was nothing serious. The last thing he needed was another dying friend. Thankfully it seemed a small piece of jagged rock had merely sliced through the skin of her forearm, so he returned his attention to Tom. The ringing in his ears was coming to a stop, and Heri wondered whether, with this great surround sound, he'd have been able to overpower the command of the basilisk's Master with a simple flute.
"You were born to aggravate me, weren't you Addams?" Tom spat, losing a little composure as he used the muggleborn's wand to clean himself of dust, before hissing sharply at the snake to retreat.
"You have no idea." Heri replied with a wicked grin after opening his eyes to take in the other's ire.
Tom's jaw ticked, but then he realized it didn't really matter either way. The girl was almost out of time. He only needed a minute or two more. Heri noticed this change in countenance and must have realised the same thing, for his eyes darkened once more.
"Herido." Tom called lightly, and had to use every bit of self-control he possessed to keep the smirk off his face when he saw the unbridled fury on the boy's. He felt Addams was close to killing him in a fit of rage, so there was no need to push him over the edge. "I believe you owe me a secret."
There was a soft whimper as Daphne felt Heri's Dark power crash over her for the second time that day. Thankfully she was already on the ground, cradling her friend's head on her knees. After pulling Heri's tie loose, she tried to brush the dust from Hermione's face and wondered if she could somehow lend the girl some of her own magic. She was worried sick: why wasn't Herido doing something?! He was obviously angry and worried about Hermione's situation, so why wasn't he fighting Voldemort already?!
"I don't suppose I can sway you on the meaning of innocent?" Heri tried, but was given only an expectant look in response. He had made a wager and Tom had managed to make it back into Ginny's hands, but Heri dearly didn't want to share his secret. He didn't have time to debate the point though. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it now! A life and a soul (or part of a soul), in his hands.
If Hermione died here today, her life would be over, but she'd still have her soul – she'd still go on...
"You're an evil man, Voldemort."
Tom merely looked at him with that same steady, expectant look. Oh, how Heri hated/admired this man!
If she died, Herido would make it his mission to release every fragment of soul Voldemort had secured, and then force it all back into a flesh and blood body so he could take his time freeing him from this plane of existence. If Voldemort killed his friend now, he would suffer a lifetime of agony. If he became powerful enough perhaps even an afterlife of agony as well. But destroy his soul? No.
"Very well. My greatest secret." He cringed at what he was about to say, wishing he hadn't let Daphne accompany him here, that she wouldn't have to hear his embarrassment. "Last summer I was subjected to a torturous form of reeducation, of reprogramming. One of the films I was forced to watch was called 'Annie'." He took a deep breath for courage. He couldn't afford to dawdle any longer. "It was ok" He confessed in a whisper that was barely audible. He silently wished for an earthquake, or maybe for the ceiling to cave in – any hole for him to disappear in to. "Not the format," He quickly tried to explain, "and the title character… she was… chipper," He spat out the word as he tried to defend himself, "But I suppose I related to her…"
Not only did destroying a soul, a person's entire existence, not sit well with him, it was not the right of any mortal to do so. Mutilating a soul, binding it, enslaving it, using the power of several hundred to forge a soul weapon capable of cutting through anything – that was all fine. But not destroying one. Souls didn't belong to the realm of mortals. It might be the only thing in the whole world that Herido Addams would personally judge as 'evil'. And then he had to think of the repercussions
Given his humiliation, he couldn't even derive any satisfaction from Tom's stupidly confused expression. It only lasted a moment though, and then he appeared to be angry.
"That can't be your greatest secret!" He accused sharply. "You're an Addams; you must have a plethora of great secrets."
"I do."
Still, Infernus forgive him if he wasn't tempted…
"But that is my greatest. No other soul, living or dead, not even Kounna, knew of it – until just a few moments ago." He dearly hoped it never got back to his family: they'd be so concerned.
Did he have time to contact Grandmamma? No, he didn't think so. He could send his portrait of Aunt Vendetta to tell her that her knowledge of soul magic was urgently needed, but even if she was home and found quickly, he didn't think he had time enough for her to get to the Chamber.
Hermione's heartbeat began to falter.
Whatever happened, this fragment of soul, this Tom Riddle, was going to suffer for trying to hurt his friend! And he was rather keen on going head to head in a battle with a young Voldemort. He was curious to see which of them would be triumphant. Once this shard of soul was released from the Horcrux and bound to a body, he could kill said body and free it, let it return to Voldemort. He'd get the pleasure of killing Tom Riddle, and still have The Dark Lord to look forward to.
"I don't accept that. It's of no use or impact." Tom challenged, though from Herido's visible discomfort, he knew the secret must have been significant to him.
"Well, that's your own fault for failing to define what you meant by 'greatest'." Pendantry - one of Herido's favourite tools. "You should have…"
Herido's voice was drowned out by an enraged cry from the young Dark Lord.
"What did you do?!" He demanded, the rage in his eyes easily matching Heri's a short time ago. It was an impressive look, but before Heri could question what had brought on this sudden outburst, Tom's form started to lose integrity – rapidly vanishing, until after only a few seconds he was gone, leaving the air undisturbed as though he'd never been there at all.
Heri stared dumbly at the spot the almost complete body had been seconds prior, before snapping his gaze around to Daphne. And his breath caught in his throat. At first he thought the girl had killed Hermione –she looked dead, and there was no longer a pulse. But after about 8 seconds of just trying to comprehend it, he heard her heart beat, once, and only then noticed the bloody oval that had been crudely draw around the prone figure, and the bloody hands that held the sides of her head.
High above them the heavy storm clouds that had strained angrily over the area for so long broke, a torrent of rainwater falling to the earth as stray lightening violently crashed into the castle. Even here, deep underground, the floor shook and the great claps of thunder boomed terribly.
Daphne had reached her wits' end with the two boys and their unnecessary games. She'd been constantly monitoring her friend's vital signs while Herido was entertaining Voldemort, and when Hermione's pulse had grown too weak to feel with just her fingers, she'd panicked, and decided that if Heri wasn't going to act, then she had to. She didn't have a clue how she might go about destroying a Horcrux, and so in her desperation she'd done the only other thing she could think to do in order to sever the connection to the Diary. Having caught sight of the blood trickling down her arm, she realised she had but one option. It might have ended up killing Hermione, but if she did nothing she was dead anyway, so what did either girl have to lose? She grabbed the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh and sliced both of her palms open, barely feeling the terrible sting in her haste, and set about performing one of the few blood based rituals she'd looked up independently. She'd only done it for fun at the time – if people insisted on calling her the Ice Queen, she'd give them real cause to! She hadn't been completely serious about it, and was therefore surprised she'd remembered it at all.
She'd placed Hermione in a deep state of severe hypothermia, thereby effectively shutting down her body and giving the illusion of death. It seemed to have worked. Within a few moments of her body being 'dead', the Diary could no longer draw energy from it, and the connection was severed.
But now Daphne had to figure out how to revive her friend. She was no healer. In fact, until she felt the first dull heartbeat, she'd thought she'd killed the other girl – that she'd suffered heart failure or something.
Relief washed over her, but then she heard a gentle gasp, and looked up to see Herido Addams staring at her with a fierce, but unreadable intensity. Suddenly she could feel her own blood rushing through her veins and stood quickly, staring back with wide rabbit-in-headlights eyes. Shit! She thought. Herido had favoured Hermione right from the beginning, and Daphne had almost killed her while he was only a few feet away!
Heri felt (don't think 'frozen', don't think 'frozen'), stunned. Daphne had just all but killed Hermione, in order to save her life. Even for the Ice Queen it was (don't think 'cold', don't think 'cold'), chilling (damn it!). He looked at her, as though for the first time, and she looked magnificent. Dried tear tracks stained her cheeks, cutting paths through the dust and dirt. Her wide eyes were ablaze with emotion – sapphire transformed to sharpened tanzanite. Her hands were red with her own blood, the smell of which filled his senses – it smelt sweet, but in a good way; like something from the soil of a dying forest. He could taste the magic in it; dark and delicious. She was a whitewashed grave: beautiful on the outside, yet filled with dead men's bones, death, and decay.
His world temporarily narrowed to this girl who'd so surprised him, he took a brisk step forward with his left foot, and Daphne, a little overwhelmed by being his sole focus, quickly mirrored his action by stepping back with her right. He took another step, forcing her back again, but then before he could do anything else, with her eyes still wide and hard as stone she took a confident step into his space with her left foot, leaving him with no option but to mirror her this time. For the first time, Herido's power didn't frighten her as it spun and crackled around them. It was threatening, but it didn't threaten her. She just felt awe. He brought up his hands, and when she was close he reached out to hold her, they stepped together to the right, before he spun her into a low dip. The whole time they'd yet to break eye contact, but while he held her his eyes drifted down to her cracked, abused lips – apparently she'd been worrying at them since they arrived in the Chamber. She reached up a shaky hand to his cheek, smearing blood as she felt the contours of his face. He learned lower…
"L-later Herido." Daphne managed to gasp out, her voice barely a whisper, as she saw her own blood decorating his face and remembered why it had been shed in the first place. "Hermione…"
"Ah, yes." With one fluid motion he pulled her upright, suddenly all business, and then threw out his arm, palm down. The pools of water around the sides of the Chamber of Secrets burst into large, roaring flames, pleasantly warming the room in an instant.
*Hides from alternative shippers*
I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. No excuses, I've just been struggling to write lately, but am not abandoning anything. I had originally planned for Heri to kill the basilisk, but as I was writing it just felt wrong for him to do so.
The chapter ran longer than I'd anticipated, so there'll be one more wrap-up chapter, and then on to part 4. :)
Hope you enjoyed, and thank you all so much for reading! xx
