We're back, and after a much shorter time at that!
After two chapters that were painstakingly hard to write, this chapter came pretty easy; I was hit by a burst of inspiration and wrote almost ten thousand words in two days, and then spent a few more doing some slight revising and polishing. And here's the result…
Bit of a warning: This chapter is probably the darkest in the story so far, and contains a potentially disturbing cliffhanger…
WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST
Based on the Harry Potter stories by J. K. Rowling
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Heaven Is A Wonderful Place
A few minutes later (Ronnie was certain she had never made the climb up all the stairs to the seventh floor quite that fast before!) the three of them were making their way up to that particular corridor on the seventh floor — Crookshanks in the lead, and Myrtle gliding effortlessly alongside Ronnie, chatting animatedly about what sort of party she wanted and looking more cheerful than Ronnie had ever seen her.
The Marauder's Map had not shown any kind of secret room or passageway in this corridor; Ronnie knew that much. But perhaps the Marauders hadn't known about it — or maybe Wormtail had found it and just never shared the information with the others.
"All right," said Crookshanks as they made the left turn to enter the corridor in question. "Now I'm gonna — 'ello, what's this?"
The sudden exclamation came as the first thing they saw — right there on the opposite wall from that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy that Crookshanks had shown such an interest in before — was a door. A door that Ronnie was certain hadn't been there before. It was highly polished and elaborate, with intricate carvings and brass handles; sticking out against the stone wall like a dragon trying to hide amongst pixies.
"That's it!" said Crookshanks, sounding halfway excited and halfway frustrated. "That's the bloody place! I've been trying to figure out 'ow to get in for ages, and no luck! And now it just goes and shows up like that? What's this room got against cats, I'd like to know!"
Myrtle glided up to the door, giving it a curious look. "This is the wall you wanted me to go through?" she said as she turned to Ronnie and gave her a pitying look. "Kitty-girl, this is what people with half a brain call a door. Even you living people can use them. You still owe me a party, though!" she added hurriedly. "I came along like you asked!"
Ronnie frowned at the door. "You're certain that this is where Wormtail took Harry?"
"Can't you smell it?!" said Crookshanks. "Most obvious 'iding place ever! Not long since 'e came 'ere either, if I'm any judge."
"Right," said Ronnie. She fished her wand out of her robe pocket. She wouldn't be able to actually use it, she knew; not while she was still under the Animaloqui — but hopefully she could bluff it. "Best chance is to get a drop on them. I count to three, then we charge in on them. Myrtle, stay back!"
"What?" Myrtle looked at her, clearly realising that the last part of Ronnie's feline speech had been directed at her but not understanding what it was about.
"I said —" Ronnie tried to think of some way to get her meaning across without going to fetch a mirror to write on. Maybe she had some parchment in her pocket…
Myrtle rolled her eyes and huffed. "Oh, fine. You want me to fulfil my bargain. Okay, I'll go through your wall for you."
"Wait! Myrtle, no!" Ronnie called, but much too late. The ghost had spun around in mid-air and shot straight through the door.
Ronnie and Crookshanks looked at each other.
"So much for getting the drop —" Crookshanks began, but was interrupted by an unmistakable ghostly wail from behind the door.
Myrtle's silvery-white head poked out through the door, like a very unsettling hanger for a door-knocker. She didn't look upset or angry; her eyes were practically shining behind her glasses. "Kitty- girl!" she squealed. "You've got to see this!"
Ronnie hurried over to the door. It turned out to be slightly ajar, and swung open without so much as a squeak from the hinges.
Myrtle swooped back into the room beyond. It was rather dark, so large that Ronnie couldn't see the far wall — but the flickering torches on the walls illuminated the parts closest to the door; the stone floor and the tall, arched ceiling.
As Ronnie entered the room with Crookshanks in step, she found to her surprise that it looked a lot like a rather cluttered and messy living room, with deep chairs, sofas, coffee tables and even a large, grand piano placed against one wall. A little further in, a rather untidy bed was surrounded by bookshelves and nightstands, upon which books and scrolls of parchment fought for space with chocolate wrappers and empty Butterbeer and Firewhisky bottles.
But what was weirder than any of this was the huge banner that had been hung up on the wall. Myrtle was floating beside it and pointing excitedly to the text, which read, in huge, spooky-looking and glowing letters:
COME TO MOANING MYRTLE'S DEATHDAY PARTY!
JUNE 13, 1993
MYRTLE ELIZABETH WARREN 1929-1943
WE LOVE MYRTLE AND OLIVE HORNBY IS A TERRIBLE PERSON!
"What the —" said Ronnie.
"D'you know what you and your cat have done?" Myrtle giggled. "You've gone and discovered the Room of Requirement!"
Clearly, Ronnie's puzzled expression spoke for itself, so Myrtle sank down to her eye level again, to explain: "I've heard about this room, but I've never seen it before. It's one of those rooms that not even a ghost can find, because it doesn't always exist! It only comes into being when someone really needs it — and when you enter it, it fills itself with the kind of things you need." She turned around again to look happily at the large banner. "This is exactly what I wanted! You have to put it up in the Great Hall, where everyone can see it!"
Ronnie was stunned. She knew that Hogwarts had many strange and secret rooms, but this went beyond anything she'd ever heard of before. A room that essentially granted your wishes? What if —
I need some way of breaking the Animaloqui charm so that humans can understand me again, she thought. Can't break the spell because I don't know non-verbal magic yet, but —
Suddenly, a book toppled from one of the bookshelves and fell to the floor right in front of her, with its cover page up. It read: SILENT SPELLS — Learn Non-Verbal Magic in Three Easy Lessons and Eighteen Hard Lessons.
Ronnie growled in annoyance. All right, amend that to 'a room that essentially granted your wishes but was bloody cheeky about it.' Still, this was impressive — Hermione would no doubt have the time of her life in this room. She slid her wand back into her pocket and looked around.
"Over 'ere, Princess!" came the sudden voice of Crookshanks from further in.
Ronnie left the book on the floor and hurried towards him. More torches appeared on the wall to illuminate the darkness further, showing the cat standing by the now-visible far wall, in front of an arched doorway through which only a pitch-black darkness could be seen.
"They went through 'ere," he said with absolute certainty. "Not long ago either. And I fink I've sussed it out now!"
"What?" Ronnie blinked at him.
"The ghost says this room gives you what you need? Well, obviously, the rat needed a safe 'iding place what nobody could find, not even me. And 'e needed a quick and easy way to get around! Bet you anything this room can create tunnels and passageways to anywhere in the entire bloomin' school!"
"Including the Chamber of Secrets!" Ronnie exclaimed, getting it. "And! He had Harry with him — Harry would need for someone to be able to follow him so they could rescue him! That's why the door was there for us to find!"
"Right you are, Princess!"
Ronnie looked at the doorway, peering in through the darkness. It was much too dark to see anything… hang on. She looked around and on the closest nightstand she spotted what she needed: A small golden lantern, shining with a friendly yellow light.
She grabbed it from the nightstand and moved back to the doorway to light up the darkness. What she saw was a short passageway that ended in — of all things — a long stone slide, smooth and polished and not entirely unlike the slide that the stairs to the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower would turn into when a boy tried to climb them.
"Looks like Wormtail took Harry on a slide," said Ronnie. "Maybe he's not a pervert after all. Maybe he's just a big kid whose Mummy didn't take him to the park enough."
"Will you look at this!" Myrtle called from her end of the room.
She had been busy admiring her deathday banner, and now more things were surrounding her: A collection of black candles that glowed with an eerie blue light, a few dusty-looking music instruments, and a somewhat crude, but very clear, animated drawing that featured a very corporeal-looking Myrtle kicking a girl labelled Olive Hornby.
"This is going to be the best party ever!" said Myrtle happily. "It's going to be in June! You promised!"
Ronnie opened her mouth, but then closed it again and looked around. Just as she'd hoped; on the nightstand where she had found the lantern, there was now a small blackboard and a piece of chalk.
She picked them both up and hurriedly wrote down what she wanted to tell Myrtle. Then she held up the blackboard, holding her hand over part of the message, so that the ghost could read:
Dunno if you've earned a party. You haven't actually done anything.
Myrtle gaped. Her eyes widened behind her glasses, and she turned, if possible, even whiter than normal. "That's so unfair!" she wailed, starting to build up to one of her classic tantrums. "I did what you asked me to do! I went through the stupid wall! It's not my fault it was a door! And," she added as she thought of something else, "I told you what this room was, didn't I, you wouldn't have known anything if it wasn't for me —"
Having expected this, Ronnie moved her hand so that Myrtle could read the rest of the message:
I need one more favour. Then I'll throw you the biggest party Hogwarts has seen.
Myrtle stopped mid-tantrum. "The biggest?!" she said excitedly, looking at her banner — which now suddenly read:
COME TO MOANING MYRTLE'S DEATHDAY PARTY!
JUNE 13, 1993
THE BIGGEST GHOST BASH OF THE CENTURY!
She got a dreamy look in her eyes, clearly imagining just how big the 'biggest ghost bash of the century' might look. "All right," she said. "What's the favour?"
Ronnie flipped the blackboard over, so show Myrtle what she'd written on the other side:
Find my friends. Tell them I've gone down to the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Harry. Tell them how to get in here. If you can find Dumbledore, tell him too.
Myrtle pouted. "That's an awful lot to ask for a measly party," she complained, before turning more contemplative. "Still… biggest ghost bash of the century… It's not every day you get one of those…" She sighed. "All right, fine. I'll find your stupid friends for you. But this had better be the best party ever thrown!"
With that, she tore herself away from the banner and flew out through the half-open door.
Crookshanks watched her vanish. "So, what now, Princess?" he said.
"Now," said Ronnie, "I'm going down. Hey, Room!" she called out, certain by now that the Room of Requirement understood her even when she was talking feline. "I need help! I've got to face Slytherin's monster and free Harry!"
And then she blinked in surprise.
On the wall beside he darkened doorway, a painting had suddenly materialised — a painting of a colourful and majestic-looking rooster, which cocked its head and looked at her curiously.
"What the hell?!" She stared at the painting. Yeah, this Room was definitely being cheeky. "Is this your way of telling me I'm too chicken to face the monster?! Don't you at least have some kind of weapon I could have?"
A knife appeared on the nightstand. It was fairly small, with a red leather sheath and an elaborately decorated handle, carved to vaguely resemble the head of a lion.
"Thanks," she said, putting all the feline sarcasm she could in her voice, as she picked the knife up and slid it into her robe pocket — the same pocket which held her wand. "Crookshanks, you'd better stay here."
"Bugger that, I'm coming with you. In fact — I'm going first to check the place out!" Crookshanks darted into the darkness and vanished down the slide.
Ronnie opened and closed her mouth. Then, clutching the lantern so she'd at least have some light, she hurled herself after him.
Down, down, down it went, faster and faster, the wind roaring in her ears as she sped downwards, down an endlessly long slide. It was almost completely dark around her, the lantern doing its best to provide a bit of light but clearly fighting a losing battle. At most, she could perhaps see the hint of walls around the slide; rough stone walls which seemed to grow rougher the further down she got.
Now she had to be all the way down at ground level — probably deeper, maybe as deep as the dungeons.
The stone slide suddenly arched, and Ronnie had just enough time to see the huge metal pipe across the slide; like the biggest sewer pipe ever. She was speeding right towards the pipe and realised too late that she was going to crash into it — when all of a sudden, she didn't. Somehow, she had gone through the metal wall and now she was sliding down inside the large pipe.
The trip turned less smooth; the pipe twisted and turned even as it kept going down. Ronnie collided with the curves and spun around, but nothing could stop her rapid descent; she was going deeper and deeper and deeper…
Just as she began fearing that this ride was going to go straight to the core of the Earth where she would drown in magma (what a way to get rid of sewage!), the pipe levelled out and she shot out of the end, sliding across an uncomfortably damp stone floor until she came to a halt a few feet from a slimy stone wall.
She sat on the floor for a few moments, trying to gather herself after the dizzying ride, as Crookshanks appeared in front of her, flicking his bottle-brush tail.
"Fun ride, innit?" he said without apparent irony, before lifting his paws one by one and shaking them in obvious disgust at the damp floor. "Coulda done without the damp, mind. And someone's been doing a lotta snacking down 'ere."
"A lot of what?" said Ronnie. And then realised what he meant: The lantern was lighting the place up enough that she could see that the floor was littered with the bones of small animals. Mostly rats, it seemed, but a few larger ones too. "Oh, ugh!"
She got to her feet and held the lantern up to get a better look at her surroundings — making certain to hold it at an angle so she wouldn't blind herself with the light. They were at the end of a long, dark stone tunnel, large enough for her to stand upright in. They had to be miles underground — probably somewhere underneath the lake, if the slimy walls and damp floor were any indication.
She checked to see if she still had her Warning Fang, and she did — it was still on its chain around her neck, and completely cool against her skin. Seemed like there was no immediate danger around, at least.
"Harry's down here somewhere," she said. "So's Wormtail. And the monster. Can you find Harry? You know, without Wormtail or the monster noticing you?"
Crookshanks cocked his head and looked at her. "I'm a cat," he said dryly. "Wanna repeat that question, Princess?"
"Er. Right. Sorry."
"C'mon, it's this way."
The tunnel was eerily silent around them as they made their way down it. Ronnie listened for the sound of a monster roaring, or any voices belonging to Harry or Wormtail, but she couldn't hear anything.
It was almost like moving through a maze, except there was only one path, one which turned and darted around in so many directions that in the end Ronnie had no idea which direction they were going anymore; whether they were moving away from Hogwarts grounds or just zig-zagging and spiralling around underneath the castle.
Crookshanks, however, was trotting on with no hesitation. Until, suddenly, he stopped, stiffened, and then hissed: "The rat! Quick, Princess, 'ide!" With that, he seemed to melt into the shadows, not even his yellow eyes visible anymore.
Ronnie stiffened, frantically trying to put out the lantern and looking for places to hide. Now she could hear footsteps, short and nervous… This time she didn't have an Invisibility Cloak to hide her. She hurried to place the lantern in her pocket and darted in towards a bend in the tunnel, pressing herself against the wall and hoping that her black school robes would blend in with the darkness.
From her not-much-of-a hiding place, she could see the shine of a soft light on the walls ahead; someone was coming up the tunnel and using a Wand-Lighting charm to light their way.
And there — the face was partly lit up by the wand, giving it an eerie, and almost monstrous, appearance, but she knew him at once: Wormtail.
He didn't appear to have seen her. He was making the same mistake as a lot of people at night; he was holding his wand too close to his face, thereby effectively blinding himself and making it harder for him to spot anything in the dark.
"Go out and see to it we're not being followed, Wormtail," she heard him mutter to himself. "I need a reliable guard, Wormtail. He couldn't send the snake, oh no, the snake's too important…"
His breath was heavy in the dark, as he stopped only a few feet away from her. She could reach out and touch him.
"Why did I do this?" he said in a hushed, yet pained voice. "Why didn't I just leave that stupid diary alone? Because I'm an idiot, that's why," he answered himself. "Because I thought I could control it. Now I'm stuck — who's there?!"
Ronnie's heart jumped, but Wormtail was turning around and facing away from her. The bald spot on the back of his head practically gleamed against her. "I know you're there!" he cried. "I-I'm aiming at you with my wand!"
Ronnie pulled her arm back and punched the back of his head as hard as she could. Her hand practically exploded in pain, but Wormtail collapsed like a sack of wet flour. His wand fell out of his hand, the light going out and leaving the tunnel in almost total darkness.
For a long moment, she just stood clutching her aching hand and trying to make out the silent shadowy form lying flat on the floor in front of her. Then, slowly, she fished the lantern back out of her pocket to shine the light down on the crumpled and clearly unconscious man.
"…Wormtail?" she said carefully.
No answer.
She straightened herself just a little. "Crookshanks?"
No answer there either. For a brief second she thought perhaps Wormtail had fallen on top of the cat and squashed him when he fell, but a quick check told her that this thankfully hadn't happened. And he wasn't hiding in any of the shadows either, as far as she could see — he simply wasn't there.
Weird — it wasn't like Crookshanks to abandon her like this, especially not after he'd insisted on coming along with her. Maybe he'd got the scent of Harry and followed it. Yeah, that'd be it.
She didn't know how long Wormtail would stay unconscious — she'd punched pretty hard but she'd never actually knocked anyone out before. Should she tie him up or something? No, she didn't have any rope. But she could at least take his wand.
Where had it gone off to? She swung the lantern around, sending the light all around he stone floor to see if she could find it.
There it was — several feet away. It had rolled surprisingly far, considering the odd and irregular shape of it. Ronnie moved up to the strange wand and crouched down to grab it.
And then, the Warning Fang was suddenly hot against her chest. She had just enough time to gasp and turn around to see the figure of Wormtail pouncing on her. Unprepared for this, she lost her balance and fell on her stomach, the lantern falling out of her hand and hitting the floor, whereupon it went out, and everything was darkness, and a huge chaos of arms and legs and tunnel floor and walls as they rolled around on the floor.
"I knew I heard someone!" Wormtail's voice in the dark, close to her ear as she struggled. "HELP!" he shouted. "HELP! MY LORD, HELP! INTRUDER! MURDERER! HELP!"
The entire thing would have been ridiculous if it hadn't been so awful. Ronnie rolled around and kicked and punched, but in the darkness she couldn't see where she was punching, and her hand was still hurting.
She managed to wrestle herself out of his grasp, rolling around so she was raised up on her knees, reaching for her pocket to pull out her wand — or no, she couldn't use her wand, maybe —
"Lumos!"
A bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her. Instinctively she raised her hands to shield her face, hissing like a cat.
"You!" came Wormtail's surprised voice.
She hissed again. Somehow, now that she was stuck speaking cat language, the man's rattishness just seemed that much more noticeable.
"You're not supposed to be here," Wormtail moaned. "What am I going to do, what am I going to — oh, oh, Imperio!"
"No!" Ronnie screamed in terror as she realised what was happening. "Not the Imperius! Anything but the —"
The world changed, turning pink and happy as the feeling of bliss washed over her, draining all worries and all thoughts right out of her head.
"…oh…" Her protest drowned in a happy little sigh as she relaxed and let her hands fall to her sides. Why had she ever been afraid of this…? Floating in a sweet mist of happiness, without a thought or concern… She barely even noticed how her Warning Fang was burning against her chest anymore. Nothing mattered, except for how good she felt.
Oh, how good she felt.
Wormtail's voice sounded again, faint as if she was hearing it in a dream. "You shouldn't be here. He only wanted Harry. Maybe… maybe if I just order you to go away, to forget you were ever here, and then I can just pretend nothing happened… no, he'll know. He always knows."
Ronnie didn't know what he was talking about, but she didn't care…. It felt good not to care… she never wanted to care about anything ever again.
"I'll have to take you to him," said Wormtail. "It's the only way. I-I'm really sorry about this, Ronnie. But it's, it's not my fault. You shouldn't have come down here. You should have minded your own business. It's your own fault. Come on. Get up and follow me. Please."
There was no such thing as disobeying. Ronnie raised herself, the sweet feeling of bliss filling her entire body, all the way down to her toes, and even her hair and her fingernails felt good…
Walking on pink, happy clouds, she followed Wormtail into a world of light and sweetness.
Heaven. She was in Heaven.
She wasn't sure how long it had been — time really didn't have any meaning anymore — but Wormtail had led her into the most beautiful place she had ever seen.
A large, open space, filled with the prettiest colours and shapes. She was surrounded by the cutest animals, all staring affectionately at her. And somewhere in the distance a huge figure — a beautiful woman with the prettiest, kindest face — was smiling down at her. Ronnie could feel the love and warmth radiating from her
Ronnie followed Wormtail as he made his way towards the woman… oh, there were three smaller figures down by her. One of them was standing up, rather tall but still dwarfed by the beautiful woman, though something about this figure — perhaps something about the way Wormtail was directing her towards it — just radiated that this was someone important.
There were two other figures there too, lying down, on pink happy clouds, but only one of them was in any way important, because that (she dimly realised) was her dear friend Harry, her best friend in the entire world. How wonderful that he was here in Heaven with her.
"Ronnie!" he cried when he saw her.
"Ronnie?" the standing figure repeated. "So…you were followed, Wormtail?"
"I-it would appear so, my Lord," said Wormtail. "She, er, she tried to hide, but I had no problems finding her. Sh-she's not a threat, my Lord, I have her safe under the Imperius, she'll do anything you tell her to…"
Yes. Yes, she would. She would obey this Lord. He… yes, it was probably a he… was the sort of person to obey. Mindless, blissful obedience… Ronnie almost sighed with happiness.
"Ronnie," said Harry, his voice reaching her from somewhere far away, and it was clear that he was overjoyed at seeing her here in Heaven. "Let her go, Wormtail!"
"Er — sorry, no. Can't do that."
"Peter," Harry pleaded in a very cheerful tone. "Why are you doing this?! Why are you helping him?! My parents were your friends!"
"Harry, Harry," said the Lord in a very sweet and friendly voice. "There is no point in trying to appeal to Wormtail. He's my friend now, aren't you, Wormtail? We've grown very close these last couple of months."
"Y-Yes, my Lord," said Wormtail. "G-greatest of friends! You know, I was always your most loyal follower — I mean, I mean your older self! I alone never wavered…!"
"So he keeps telling me," said the Lord, smiling brilliantly. "Just between the two of us, Harry, I suspect that he's stretching the truth just a little when he talks of his many years of selfless loyalty and servitude to my older self—"
"I would never lie to you, my Lord!"
"— but I suppose you have to forgive your friends their little quirks and flaws." The Lord smiled again. "For instance… Wormtail?"
"M-my Lord?"
"Did you make certain she was alone?"
There was a long, happy pause before Wormtail answered: "Er… yes, my Lord."
"In other words," said the Lord, "you didn't. What are you standing here for? Go out and make certain we don't have any more visitors! Oh, and Wormtail?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"If there are any, do us both a favour and kill them straight away, instead of dragging them back here under the Imperius. We are in the middle of something here."
Wormtail murmured something inaudible, and then walked away, vanishing into the pink, happy mist and leaving Ronnie alone with her best friend Harry and the others, in this perfect little piece of paradise. She was almost sorry to see him go… but it didn't really matter. Nothing really mattered.
The Lord focused on Ronnie now; smiling very sweetly. "So," it said. "The famous Veronica Weasley in person."
"Let her go, Riddle," said Harry.
"I wouldn't dream of it," said the Lord, whose name was apparently Riddle...
Riddle. For a brief moment, Ronnie's pink and happy world was darkened by a slight sting of uncertainty… there was something about that name that felt like it deserved a certain reaction from her, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what that reaction was supposed to be. It was really hard to think…
Then, the uncertainty faded, and the pink happiness welled back up again. She didn't need to think. She didn't need to react. She just needed to feel good…
"We've spoken before, Veronica…" said Lord Riddle. "Or rather, we've written before. You called yourself 'Draco Malfoy' at the time." He chuckled and shook his head. "You actually fooled me for a while there. Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's not nice to lie?"
Ronnie didn't answer. She was back in her state of perfect bliss.
"Now then…" said Lord Riddle. "Veronica. What are you doing here, and who else knows you're here? Talk!"
"My mother did teach me that it is not nice to lie," said Ronnie. Talking took some effort, but it was worth it for the intense feeling of pleasure obedience brought with it. "I came down to the Chamber of Secrets with my cat Crookshanks to rescue my friend Harry Potter from a rat… I sent Moaning Myrtle to tell my friends where to find me, so very likely they will follow… hopefully Professor Dumbledore as well…"
Lord Riddle scowled kindly at her. "I said talk!" he demanded.
"I am talking," said Ronnie happily.
"Stop that meowing, you stupid girl! What's wrong with you? Talk!"
Ronnie closed her mouth. She was a stupid girl, there was no doubt about that, and now two contradicting orders were battling for dominance inside her. She was supposed to talk, but she wasn't supposed to meow. But she was stuck speaking cat language… she couldn't talk without meowing.
A feeling of disconcert spread through the feeling of bliss. Ronnie didn't know what to do. She couldn't disobey, but she couldn't obey. As the feeling of pink happiness lessened, the sharp pain of the red-hot Warning Fang against her chest grew sharper, more distracting.
Lord Riddle had turned to Harry. "Harry," it said. "She's your friend. Tell me, why is she meowing instead of talking?"
"I-I don't know," said Harry.
"Oh, I think you do," said Lord Riddle. "You just don't want to tell me. Well — Wormtail is surprisingly good at the Imperius… Perhaps I should order her to kill herself? No doubt she will be happy to do it."
"No!" Harry cried. "It's the Animaloqui! The Animal Talk Charm! She must have placed it on herself so she could speak to her cat…"
"Ah." Lord Riddle nodded. "Animaloqui. The cheap substitute for proper Zoolingualism. That complicates things a little — if she had been speaking Parseltongue it wouldn't have been a problem, but I can't interrogate someone who only speaks cat language. I could break the Charm quite easily, of course, but — a Finite Incantatem would break the nice Imperius she is under. Oh well. Forget the interrogation. We can just use her as leverage. Cooperate with me, Harry, and your friend lives a while longer."
"You're just going to kill her anyway," said Harry. "You're going to kill the both of us."
"I might not," Lord Riddle smiled. "Oh, I'm going to kill you, but I might be persuaded to spare her. If you cooperate, that is. Veronica… go stand over there while Harry and I finish our talk."
"Yes, my Lord," Ronnie meowed, relieved that she had an order that she, as a stupid girl, could actually obey. The pinkness of the world was pinker than ever as she turned and walked in the direction Riddle had pointed… It felt so good to obey, like she was walking on air...
In front of her, the enormous figure of the giant beautiful woman was towering up. She didn't say anything, but she was so incredibly pretty, and seemed so warm and welcoming, that Ronnie was certain that just standing there next to her and taking in the radiant beauty would be a perfectly acceptable way of spending eternity.
"Now…" Riddle's pleasant voice was far away, but that was okay, it clearly wasn't talking to her at the moment. "Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"
Harry said something in reply, but Ronnie couldn't hear him through the fog of happiness. It didn't really matter anyway, he wasn't talking to her either, and she was happy just standing here, with the beautiful woman… a happy, stupid girl…
Ow!
Suddenly there was a sharp pain in her ankle. And this causes the pain against her chest to well up again; her Warning Fang was still hot. That meant something…
"Wake up, Princess!" someone hissed down by her feet.
Another sharp pain, this time in her other ankle.
"Stop that," Ronnie muttered. "I don't want to wake up… I feel good…. Ow!"
"Princess!"
"Crookshanks!" The sudden realisation dissolved the pink mist, and reality slammed down on Ronnie like a ton of bricks.
She wasn't in Heaven. She wasn't in any kind of pink and beautiful place. She was in a dark, freakishly spooky stone chamber with a high, arched ceiling and an extremely serpentine décor.
What she had thought were cute animals surrounding her were in fact stone pillars decorated with very lifelike stone snakes, all of them silently watching her with emerald eyes.
The beautiful smiling woman that she'd been so happy to stand next to was in fact a huge stone statue at the far end of the Chamber; an imposing and threatening old wizard with a long beard and a strange, almost monkeyish face, scowling at the world with blind stone eyes.
There was Harry, true enough, but he wasn't lying on a pink fluffy cloud — he was lying on a hard, dirty stone floor, tied up with thick ropes so he couldn't move.
The other figure lying next to him, which Ronnie in her pink stupor had dismissed as unimportant, was Harry's Aunt Petunia, looking pale and lying deathly still.
And there… A tall, dark-haired teenage boy, dressed in somewhat old-fashioned Hogwarts school robes, was holding the tied-up Harry at wandpoint. He was oddly blurry around the edges, as if he wasn't quite in focus.
Her heart nearly stopped as she realised who he was: Tom Riddle. You-Know-Who in person.
But not You-Know-Who as she had seen him last year; a hissing and ugly spectre. Tom Riddle might be blurry around the edges, but otherwise he looked human enough… and young too; he couldn't be more than a few years older than Ronnie.
For a long moment, all the blood in her veins feeling like it had been replaced with ice, she could only stare. This was what she'd mistaken for Heaven.
Through her icy feeling, she felt dirty. She was disgusting and pathetic. It had happened again; just like last year, she'd fallen under the Imperius like a helpless baby and not even been able to think of resisting.
Something soft and furry was stroking against her legs, and she realised that Crookshanks was there. The cat was looking up at her with big, yellow eyes, bottle-brush tail twitching.
When he saw that she was awake, he gave her a final look, and then — silent as a shadow — he had vanished behind one of the snake-pillars.
Riddle, for the moment, didn't seem to have noticed Crookshanks, or the fact that Ronnie was awake. He was still focused on Harry. "But," he was saying, "I wanted to ask you a question, Harry. As I said, that was why I had Wormtail bring you to me in the first place." He twirled the wand between his fingers and took on a casual tone. "How is it that you — by all means and appearances a perfectly ordinary boy with no great magical talents — managed to defeat my older self?"
"Er —" Harry blinked.
"It's the one missing piece of the puzzle. Wormtail couldn't answer it. I don't remember it, since it's technically in my future. And anyone else who was there is dead. So, the answer must lie with you."
Ronnie suddenly got it.
This wasn't the You-Know-Who the Gang had fought last year. This was You-Know-Who from the past. The part of him that had inhabited that damn diary, the part that talked back and made people do things. That was why he was so blurry too; he had somehow escaped the pages of the diary, but not fully. He was corporeal enough to hold a wand — a wand that Ronnie now recognised as Harry's — but probably not much more.
That meant there was a chance.
He wasn't paying any attention to her. All he was interested in was Harry — stupid girl under the Imperius probably didn't seem worth paying much attention to. So she carefully took on a blank expression again and tried to pretend like she was still in her own little happy world, while her mind desperately searched for a way out of this…
"There is something here that doesn't quite add up, you must admit," said Riddle, looking at Harry with an expression of curious detachment. "Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard in the world, vanquished by a mere baby? Not likely. And yet, it happened. So what's your secret, Harry?"
"Er..."
"Go on, share," said Riddle with a mocking grin. "The longer this pleasant little talk lasts, the longer you live… and the longer your friend lives. As for your Aunt… Well. Two out of three isn't bad."
Ronnie chanced a look over at Petunia Dursley, who was lying on her back, and — Ronnie now realised — was clutching a small black book that could only be Riddle's diary.
If Vernon Dursley had looked terrible when they found him, Petunia looked worse. Already on the skinny side, she had been reduced to little more than skin and bones. She was deathly pale, her blonde hair having turned almost completely grey, and she looked more dead than alive.
Actually… maybe she was dead. From where she was standing, Ronnie couldn't even tell if the woman was breathing.
It seemed like Harry was thinking the same thing. "Is she dead?" he asked, his voice oddly thick.
"Not yet," said Riddle pleasantly, "but she's getting there. I can feel myself getting stronger all the time… and her getting weaker. When she's faded completely… I'll be fully alive again."
Was it Ronnie's imagination, or was Petunia starting to get rather blurry around the edges now, too…?
Slowly, so that Riddle wouldn't notice any sharp movements, she slipped her hand down her pocket. Not much to help her there. She had a wand that was still useless, and a knife…
"You know, Harry, we have some time to kill," said Riddle. "Neither of us is going anywhere until your Aunt is dead. So, let me tell you a little about those guardians of yours. After all, I've had the pleasure of their company for a couple of months now, and got to know them quite intimately. Pitiful Muggles, both of them, but useful…"
"Useful." Harry sounded nauseous.
"Oh, your Uncle, not so much. He was rather boring, to tell you the truth. Narrow-minded and petty. All he had in his soul was silly little Muggle concerns and complaints. So eager to denounce anything 'abnormal,' so obsessed with conformity… but in the end, he couldn't even say why that was so important to him. There was no depth, no real substance to him."
A rather gleeful smile spread on Riddle's face as his eyes fell on Petunia. "But her, on the other hand…" He chuckled darkly. "I had much more fun with her. I'd say it was almost a pity she wasn't a witch, because she would have made a magnificent Dark one. Such hatred. Such jealousy. Such exquisite loathing… of your dear mother, certainly, but of you in particular. She could never forgive what you had done to her."
Harry swallowed. "I never did anything to her…" he said.
"Oh, no. You just existed, as a constant reminder of what a failure, what a terrible person she was." Riddle sounded like he was enjoying himself. "You were everything your mother had been, everything Petunia wanted to be but couldn't — good-looking, good-natured, and of course magical. Oh, how she hated everything magical, because every little bit of it reminded her of how much she hated herself."
Ronnie felt vaguely sick at Riddle's obvious glee.
"People like that…" he said. "They're so easy to steer, with just a little persuasion. I'll admit it, when Wormtail suggested getting your Aunt and Uncle instead of going for a proper witch or wizard… I had my doubts. How could a couple of lowly Muggles be enough to bring back the greatest wizard of all time? I needn't have worried. There was so much hatred in your Aunt that once I got her to tell me her secrets… pour out her soul to me… I grew powerful. Faster than I had expected, I was able to leave the pages of the diary… And here we are."
Riddle chuckled darkly, prodding the still Petunia with his foot. For a moment, it looked like his foot was merging with her side. "I've almost drained her completely. In just a few minutes, I think… I'll be fully alive again. Never underestimate the power of hatred, Harry — that's a lesson for life. Not that yours is going to be very much longer."
A movement caught the corner of Ronnie's eye. Crookshanks was back — and in his mouth he was carrying the lantern that Ronnie had used to light her way down the tunnel. It had long since, gone out, but…
Idea.
Not a good idea, but an idea all the same.
Riddle had turned back to Harry, all pleasant smiles again. "So, before you die, how about telling me that secret I wanted to know? How is it that an apparently powerless baby could defeat the greatest wizard in the world?"
Harry hesitated. "Will you let Ronnie go if I tell you?"
"Perhaps."
There was a long pause. Riddle was looking intensely at Harry, who was looking in all other directions except for at him, clearly at a loss for an answer.
Ronnie grabbed the chance. As Harry glanced over to her, she moved her head and very briefly winked at him, pointing towards Crookshanks and letting her hand twitch in what she hoped he'd be able to identify as a sign for him to pretend he hadn't seen anything.
She wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a look of relief in his green eyes. Moments later, he turned to Riddle and said: "All right. But it's not really a secret. Everybody knows it." He looked straight at Riddle and said: "You're not the greatest wizard in the world."
Riddle's smile vanished. "Excuse me?"
"Everyone knows Albus Dumbledore's the greatest wizard in the world!" said Harry. "You were never able to defeat him, not even at the height of your power!"
"I've been operating right under Dumbledore's nose for months!" Riddle snapped.
"Skulking in shadows and hiding with the rats? Yeah, that's the sign of a great wizard! You don't even have your own wand, you had to steal mine!"
"You insolent —!" Riddle drew himself up and pointed the wand at Harry.
And that was when Ronnie threw the lantern at him.
The golden lighting device flew in an arc through the air, passed straight through Riddle and hit the wand he was holding — and the wand was knocked out of his hand and fell to the floor.
At once, Crookshanks was there like an orange streak of lightning. Before the surprised Riddle could bend over to pick the wand up, Crookshanks had snatched it up, and ran off with the wand in his mouth.
Riddle spun around to look at Ronnie, just as she had drawn her own wand from her pocket and pointed it at him. All pleasantness had vanished from his face; now he looked murderous — in fact, in that one moment he looked a lot more like the ugly wraith that she'd seen last year. "Treachery!" he snarled.
"You're one to talk!" Ronnie hissed, aware that he wouldn't understand her but unable to stop herself.
Crookshanks had ran up to Harry with the wand, and now he placed it gently down in the boy's hands, which were still tied behind his back but could grasp the wand.
"This is what I get for trying to keep people alive as leverage," Riddle snarled. "I should have killed you the moment I saw you. But it's not too late for that!" He straightened himself and let out a series of loud, eerie hissing noises.
There was a scraping noise far above them all, as the statue's gigantic face came to life much as the stone snakes had. Slowly, it opened its mouth, wider and wider, to form a gigantic black hole.
And within that hole, something was moving, a darkened silhouette slithering up from inside the statue. Slytherin's monster was slowly coming into view. The Warning Fang against her neck practically exploded with heat.
"Incendio!" Harry's voice cried. When Ronnie looked, burning remains of the rope that had bound him, were falling to the floor. He raised himself, somewhat unsteadily, having closed his eyes and clutched his wand. "Don't look, Ronnie!" he panted. "The thing that Petrified Lavender and Lockhart — it's a basilisk!"
"A basil—!" Ronnie immediately averted her eyes, but not before she got a glimpse of the enormous green serpent as it sprang out of the statue's mouth. I think I saw its eyes, I'm dead! No, wait, I'm okay.
Of all the magical and non-magical animals that had figured in the books Ronnie had borrowed of Charlie up through her childhood, the basilisk — the King of Serpents — was one of the very few she wasn't particularly eager to meet. Not merely because basilisks had a reputation for being savage and near-uncontrollable, and were almost impossible to kill, let alone tame — and not merely because its venom was so poisonous that it could kill an elephant in a matter of minutes. No… the main reason were the eyes. Look a basilisk in the eyes, and you die instantly. Having one of those gaze adoringly at you could prove fatal.
Suddenly, the picture of the rooster back at the Room of Requirement made much more sense. One of the few things that could kill a basilisk was the cry of a rooster — the Room hadn't been cheeking her, it had been trying to warn her!
And now, there was a tremble on the ground as the body of an impossibly-big serpent landed on the stone floor.
Harry was next to her, grabbing her arm. "Ronnie, we have to run!"
Ronnie, however, shook her head and forced herself to remain calm, even though the Warning Fang was still hurting against her chest. The first rule when you were around animals was to never make any sudden movements. She closed her eyes tightly and took a slight step backwards. "Hello," she said, making her feline voice as calm and soothing as she could. "Nice to meet you, never met a basilisk before… I'm friendly, see? Not gonna hurt you…"
The basilisk answered her with an impossibly loud hiss, and then —
Ronnie felt Harry grab onto her and pull her back, just as the basilisk's jaw snapped shut right where her head had just been.
Riddle was laughing. "You can't tame Slytherin's monster!" he cried with glee. "It obeys only me!" With that, he let out another, much harsher-sounding hisses, no doubt telling he basilisk to hurry up and kill her.
"Bugger!" Ronnie yelped. "Crookshanks, get out of here!" Hoping her cat would do as he told her for once, she tried to grab Harry's hand and run with him —
— but then she tripped and fell over an inconveniently-placed sack of icy-cold cloth and bones that someone had inconsiderately placed in her way. She landed on her stomach again, draped over the uncomfortably-cold pile, with Harry almost landing on top of her.
Riddle hissed something again, and Ronnie braced herself, waiting for the pain of the giant serpent jaws closing around her.
But nothing happened. The basilisk was still moving around; she could hear the slithering, but it had pulled back.
Harry was clutching her tightly. "Don't move!" he hissed in a low tone. "We're right on top of Aunt Petunia… She's still alive… and Riddle tells the basilisk not to attack because he doesn't want to risk that the diary is damaged!"
Diary!
Ronnie had no idea how Harry could tell what Riddle was saying to the basilisk, but it made sense. If he was emerging from the pages of the diary… She thrust out her hand and felt a bony, hollow-cheeked face. True enough — what she had thought was a pile of bones and cloth was in fact Petunia Dursley. The woman was as cold as ice and she hadn't reacted to being fallen onto, but Ronnie barely had the time to feel sorry for her. Feverishly, she fumbled around until her fingers grasped around a familiar leathery cover.
She tore the diary out of Petunia's loose grip and held it up in front of herself, like a shield.
"Let go of that diary," came Riddle's voice, nearly trembling with fury.
"Eat dragon dung!" Ronnie hissed, holding the diary firmly in her hands. " If the snake comes close I'll shove the diary down its throat!"
"Stalemate, Riddle," Harry panted. "You can't order the basilisk to attack us without risking the diary — and you can't touch us because you're not corporeal enough!"
Riddle drew an angry breath. "Think you're being clever, do you?" he said. "Well, you haven't won. You're only postponing the inevitable. I'm almost fully alive, and you can't stop the process. As soon as I'm fully corporeal…! What are you doing?"
Eyes still firmly closed, Ronnie had managed to fish the lion-headed knife out of her pocket. So, Riddle didn't want the diary to be damaged, did he? Seemed like the Room or Requirement had given her the right tool for the job after all!
"No, stop!" Riddle cried as Ronnie thrust the knife straight at the diary.
It was like trying to pierce diamond. The knife just skidded across the cover and instead the blade pierced the skin of Ronnie's other hand with a sharp, stinging pain. She hissed and almost dropped the book, as blood began running down her hand.
"Ronnie!" said Harry, who seemed to have risked a peek. His hand clutched her bleeding one, his other hand moving to clutch the diary.
Riddle's protesting cry turned into a mocking laugh. "That was it?" he said. "That was pathetic. As last stands go… you really had no chance. And now… you're too late!"
All of a sudden, Harry was crying out as if in pain. And at the exact same time, Petunia sank together underneath Ronnie, exhaling in a sickening way, and the diary suddenly turned so cold that it burned Ronnie's hand and she had to let go of it.
Ronnie inadvertently opened her eyes to see that Petunia had opened hers. The woman was staring up at Ronnie with a look of pure hate in her eyes.
And then she turned ash-grey and her body started to crumble.
"No!" Ronnie screamed. "No, no, NO!" But to no avail. Petunia's body was dissolving underneath her, tattered clothes suddenly containing nothing more than grey, lifeless dust.
Harry was still writing in pain next to her, his face contorted into a horrible grimace. His hands, still holding the diary, moved up to clutch his forehead, but it was as if the diary was stuck to his hands and he just ended up slamming the book against his face.
There was a horrible rumbling sound, and Harry jerked and went limp against Ronnie, the diary falling out of his hand and landing in the pile of grey ash with a sickeningly dry thump.
Ronnie cried out.
Riddle was standing in front of them. No longer blurry around the edges in the slightest, he stood as solid and present as either of them, holding his shaking hands out in front of his face. He clutched his fingers and took several deep breaths, beginning to laugh again, a triumphant mad laugh that echoed around the chamber.
Tom Riddle was alive.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Author's Notes: Yeah, so… that happened.
On a scale from one to ten — one being the lowest, ten being the highest, and five being average — how angry are you with me for that cliffhanger?