Chapter 17: 'That old serpent, which deceiveth the whole world'

'For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are… He who destroys a good book destroys reason itself'

John Milton, Areopagitica (1644)

Harry's eyes flickered open slowly. He could hear the sound of water dripping somewhere. Was he still in the bathroom? No, it hadn't been this cold, even with Myrtle's ghostly presence. He moved his eyes from side to side, trying to take in his surroundings without giving away that he was awake. He could tell that he was lying on a stone floor, somewhere dark. The ceiling was hard to make out, rising high over him. He could just see the foot of a statue to his left. And to his right, a figure slumped against a rock, with blazing red hair.

"Don't worry Potter. She's still alive. For now at least…"

Harry stiffened, and sat up, his pretence abandoned. Lockhart – no, the Heir, Voldemort, whatever was possessing him – was lounging against the statue, twirling his wand with a malicious smile. In his other hand, he held Harry's wand. His red eyes blazed in the darkness, but even they were not as attention grabbing as the statue he was leaning against. Harry recognized it from portraits now; Salazar Slytherin. They must be in the Chamber of Secrets then. The statue rose above them, nearly twenty feet tall. Slytherin was posing impressively, a stern look on his monkey like face.

"Impressive isn't it?"

Harry's gaze was drawn back to Lockhart. The red eyes seemed to have a hypnotic effect on him, and he could not look away. It was a sensation eerily similar to some of his conversations with Zacharias Smith, and a familiar sense of anger coiled in his gut.

"My distant ancestor you know." Lockhart carried on in a conversational tone. "When I arrived at Hogwarts, I was unaware of my proud heritage; the moment I found out though I was determined to carry on Slytherin's noble work."

"Who are you?" Harry cut in.

The red eyes flickered in annoyance, but he replied easily enough.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle; or as the world would later know me –"

"Lord Voldemort" Harry breathed.

Lockhart – Riddle – gave a mock bow.

"The pleasure is all mine I assure you Harry."

"Don't call me that."

Riddle blinked.

"What did you say?"

"I said, don't call me Harry. You don't have the right." Harry almost snarled in his anger.

Riddle narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Lockhart's face was distorted by one of the ugliest expressions Harry had ever seen. He clenched his fists, waiting for a curse, but none came. Instead, Riddle shook his head, a small smile appearing.

"Harry, Harry, I would be slightly more polite to the only person in here with a wand. Or perhaps you don't care what happens to Miss Weasley?"

At the reminder that Ginny was there, Harry spun around, running to her frantically. She was unconscious, her skin cold and pale. But there was a pulse. A very faint pulse, but it was there. He stared at her, desperately trying to think up a plan to get her out of there, but Riddle spoke again.

"She really did lead a very boring life you know Harry. Fortunately her mind was weak; she didn't even need to write to me before I could set up home inside her head."

Harry turned round, still clutching Ginny tightly to him, glaring daggers at Riddle, who smiled in amusement.

"The moment little Ginny picked up my diary I was able to read her mind, and within a week I could take full control of her whenever I pleased. Have you ever felt that kind of control over someone Harry? The knowledge that they have no will but to please you? It is the most… intoxicating experience, I assure you. And once I was inside her mind, I could make her feed me… I know so much about her Harry, so much about her family… So much about you."

Harry said nothing. He could feel his nails puncturing the skin on his palms he was clenching his fists so tightly.

"As you can imagine, you were a source of great interest to me Harry… I wanted to know precisely what it is about you that brought me down."

"Well if you don't know then no-one ever will. No-one else was there that night."

Riddle laughed.

"Poor, stupid Harry. Do you think me the same as the Lord Voldemort who attacked you in Godric's Hollow? No, I am a memory of the boy who unleashed a basilisk on the Mudbloods at Hogwarts. I have lived in this diary –" and here he reached into his robes, removing the diary "– for fifty years. And then little Ginny Weasley picked me up, and I was free to leave once more. Free to find out about you, and what you did to my future self. And once you have told me everything you know – and I assure you Harry, you will tell me, screaming if necessary – then I will truly be the most powerful wizard in the world."

"No you won't."

"Is that right, little boy?"

"Yes. Dumbledore's the greatest wizard in the world, everyone knows that. You didn't dare attack him even when you were strong, and now you don't even have your own body!"

Riddle snarled, and slashed his wand down sharply. Harry fell to the floor, his face burning and dripping blood. He looked up at Riddle, for the first time feeling a pang of fear. But Riddle had mastered his emotions once more, and was looking composed again.

"A minor inconvenience… I know that my future self is out there somewhere you know, hungry for revenge… But I don't think that he need be disturbed. I will soon have so much control over this pathetic fraud that I can reshape his body completely."

Harry frowned in confusion.

"Oh, didn't you know? Gilderoy Lockhart, Wizarding hero extraordinaire, is a complete fraud. Everything in his books is the work of others that he takes credit for, following liberal applications of Memory charms. His skill with mental magic has actually been rather fortuitous. I may not have been able to avoid detection if he hadn't had so many shields in here. Still, there must be something about him. Ginny picked up my diary in his office, from a pile of fan-mail. One of my followers must have an almighty dislike of him to throw away my possessions like that, so it seemed only fair to return the diary to him when you discovered me."

Riddle began to pace, still watching Harry intently. Harry lowered Ginny to the floor gently, rising so that he could turn with Riddle, never letting him out of his sight. Riddle stared at Harry hungrily.

"So, to business. Tell me everything you know of that night in Godric's Hollow. The longer you talk, the longer you stay alive…"

Harry stared at him, trying to decide what to say. He couldn't really see what could be achieved by stringing it out – and if he made Riddle angry, then he might be able to get an advantage on him…

"Nobody knows why you lost your power that night. But I know why you couldn't touch me; my mother sacrificed her life for me – my common, Muggleborn mother!"

Riddle looked at him, and then threw his head back, laughing heavily.

"So that's it then. I should have guessed, it's a powerful counter-charm. And I was under the impression that there was something special about you. It really is quite astonishing you know… Both of us half-blood's, raised by Muggles, both Parselmouths – and I commend your success in keeping that a secret by the way – we even look something alike. But there isn't anything special about you at all. I almost wish Dumbledore were here now, he at least might provide a challenge – though I doubt it."

"Dumbledore would kick your arse!"

"Really? I notice he isn't rushing to your side… For the greatest wizard in the world, he was driven away rather successfully."

"He's not as gone as you might think."

Riddle frowned once more, and then a truly evil smile spread over his face.

"You've told me everything I wanted to know Harry. Now my pet can feed; he's been wanting to for so long…"

Riddle turned his back on Harry, looking up at the statue. He began to hiss, and Slytherin's mouth began to grind open. Harry knelt down, lifting Ginny onto his shoulders, and dashed over to a corner, concealing her as best he could. This done, he sprinted over to another corner to conceal himself. He crouched down as he heard something leathery slap against the stone floor, and he prayed that Riddle hadn't seen him. He shut his eyes tight as Riddle hissed once more.

"Find him! Kill him, feast on his flesh, tear him to shreds!"

Help me Harry thought to himself frantically, Someone, anyone, please!

There was a tearing sound, the clang of metal on stone, and the beautiful sound of phoenix song over his head. Harry looked up to see Fawkes flapping above him before flying away. As Fawkes soared off, he heard the slithering die away; the basilisk was following the phoenix. Harry peeked round the statue he was crouching behind to see what was going on, ready to shut his eyes immediately. Riddle was screaming at the serpent, which seemed to be ignoring him. And about ten feet away form Harry was a long broadsword, lying on the floor. There was a strange light above it, shimmering as it faded away. Riddle wasn't looking at him; he burst out from his shelter, running to the sword.

His heart sank as he approached, and realised that it was actually almost as tall as he was. He would never be able to lift it! But in the absence of any other option, he tried anyway. He strained his muscles trying to pick it up, but to no avail. Then he fell backwards as it suddenly became lighter. Looking at it, he was astonished to find that it was now much shorter, and looked much lighter. He lifted it experimentally, and was both delighted and confused to find that it couldn't weigh more than his wand.

He stood up, the sword raised in a guard position, facing Riddle, who looked at him with a sneer.

"I highly doubt you can use a sword well enough to fight off a basilisk Potter."

Privately, Harry agreed with him. He'd been fencing since he was nine, but there was a world of difference between the sport and a fight for his life against a thirty foot long snake. But he was determined to go down fighting.

He took a step forward, and Riddle's eyes narrowed. He slashed the wand again, and before Harry had time to think about what was happening, the sword had moved to a quarte guard, blocking the spell with a ring. Harry gasped as something ran up the inside of his arms to his brain. He hadn't moved the sword, it had moved itself.

Suddenly the fight was looking much more winnable.

He stepped forward again, and again, extending the blade and darting into a lunge. The blade moved again, almost preternaturally fast, and nicked Riddle's arm. Riddle swore, retreating to a safer distance as Harry grinned. He stepped forward again, much more confident, and was actually able to swing the sword to a block of his own accord this time, although it moved twice more of its own accord, blocking the spells every time. Riddle paused, a flicker of fear travelling across his face, and Harry charged, extending the blade straight ahead of him.

Riddle howled as the blade punctured his arm, and Harry yelled in triumph as he tore the sword out of Riddle, blood streaming from the wound. More importantly, Riddle had dropped Harry's wand. Harry scooped it up quickly, but while his attention was distracted Riddle cast a spell, and Harry went flying, losing his grip on the sword. He looked up as Riddle went to grab the sword himself – but he then jerked back, staring at the wound in his arm in shock.

Where Harry had stabbed him, his arm was smoking.

Riddle staggered back, tearing the sleeve of his robe to examine his arm more closely. What was revealed sickened Harry. There was a white glow pouring out of Riddle's arm, and the arm was almost hanging off where he had ripped the sword out. The ragged edges of the wound were giving off a pale smoke, and none of Riddle's attempts to heal it worked. There was clearly something magical about the sword, and Harry was not going to let his opponent grab it. He staggered forward, sending spells flying at Riddle; they were all blocked with ease.

Just as he laid his fingers on the hilt, Riddle hit him with magic – not a spell, just raw power. Harry screamed as it burned him, his robes smoking and falling apart where it had hit him. He looked down at his chest and retched; there was a hole in his shirt, and his skin was blistered terribly, blood trickling from them as they burst. Riddle strode towards him, a look of purest hatred on his face, and grabbed him by the neck.

Then he recoiled, his hand slowly turning black. Harry managed a weak smile; his mother's protection was clearly still working. He dived for the sword, and swung it wildly; he heard Riddle curse as he clipped him with it. When he looked round, Riddle had an ugly scar across his face – with the same white light coming from the wound, the edges smoking as with the wound on his arm.

There came an awful hissing from the other side of the Chamber, and Harry risked a brief look. The basilisk was thrashing wildly, blood streaming down its face, and one golden eye punctured. It began to smash at pillars, trying to bring Fawkes out of the sky, but the phoenix was too agile. Harry paid for his inattention as Riddle cried out.

"Perforatus!"

Several shards of metal pierced Harry's body, and he screamed in pain. He fell to the floor, weak from his injuries, wand and sword falling to the floor. Riddle strode over to him, repeatedly casting a Whip curse in his fury, and scores of bloody lines appeared along Harry's back. Harry was sobbing in pain, but still trying to reach for his weapons. Then the phoenix song grew louder, and Riddle roared in pain. Harry looked up to see blood pouring from Riddle's face where Fawkes had clawed at him. He seized the opportunity, and the sword. His aim was true, and he pierced Riddle's chest.

The red eyes widened, and Riddle sank to his knees, his gaze not leaving Harry's. The red faded away, gradually being replaced by Lockhart's recognisable bright blue eyes. The defence professor began to stammer in shock.

"Potter! What – what's going on here? Where are we?"

"Professor, don't look up, don't!"

But it was too late. Lockhart had looked around him, and met the remaining eye of the basilisk. He screamed, but was cut off as his body stiffened, turning the colour of stone. Within seconds, he was a statue, but unlike those in the Hospital Wing, he would not be restored. The gaze of the basilisk had turned him to stone, including his internal organs. Harry spared his fallen teacher a moment's thought before staggering away, grabbing his wand and determinedly not looking at the serpent behind him.

A sudden idea came to him, and he began to hiss.

"Your majesty! I beseech you, don't kill me!"

The serpent paused.

"You speak my tongue? Do not worry little one, I do not attack those who are Speakers. You may look on me without fear."

Harry swallowed nervously, and turned round. He looked up at the basilisk, and sighed in relief when nothing happened. Behind the snake, Fawkes was flying around the pillars, out of sight.

"Where is the bird that injured you your majesty?"

"I do not know, but I would give much to find out. Will you help me Speaker?"

"Of course; there it is!"

The basilisk whirled, and snapped at Fawkes, who was still too high to be reached. When the basilisk turned away, Harry raised his wand, and muttered a spell, holding a specific image in his mind.

"Serpensortia!"

A long black snake fell from the tip of his wand; a black mamba, the most poisonous Muggle snake in existence. For good measure, Harry conjured another snake, this time a runespoor. He began to whisper to them, concentrating heavily. The basilisk was still distracted by Fawkes, and he raised his wand again, and muttered a levitation charm. The two snakes flew into the air, and Harry hovered them behind the basilisk's head.

Then he dropped them.

The basilisk hissed madly as they carried out Harry's orders, biting into the basilisk's remaining eye, puncturing it and filling it with venom. It began to thrash, knocking Harry to the ground, and shattering Lockhart's body into several pieces. He kept a tight grip on the sword, and swung it up as the basilisk's head lashed down to bite him, locating him by smell. The sword cut through the serpent's scales like butter, and it hissed once more. He stabbed the sword forward, and this time he punctured the back of its head.

The basilisk sagged to the floor, pulling the sword from Harry's arms, and it breathed its last.

Harry sank to the floor, chest heaving and sweat pouring from his face. The pain of his wounds, which had been dulled by adrenaline, came flooding back full force, and he doubled over, trying desperately to quash it sufficiently to get out of the Chamber. After a few moments, his magic began to kick in, healing some of his more minor wounds completely, and stopping the blood flow.

Standing up, he staggered over to Ginny, pulling her close once more. Her eyes were still closed, and if anything, she looked even worse than she had earlier. He shook her frantically, but she was totally unresponsive. He felt a pressure on his arm, and looked up. Fawkes had landed on his arm, and was looking at Ginny inquisitively. He hopped down from Harry's arm, landing on Ginny's chest, and he began to cry, large pearl like tears that glistened on Ginny's face.

But nothing happened. Fawkes wept over her for several minutes, and she would not wake up. Fawkes looked at Harry almost sorrowfully, and began to weep against his chest, healing the blisters and scorched skin where Riddle's magic had hit him. Harry felt his pain wash away, his strength returning, and he patted the phoenix's head in gratitude. Fawkes trilled an acknowledgment, then fluttered over to where Lockhart's body had been. Harry thought for a crazy moment that the phoenix was going to try and restore Lockhart to life, but he was wrong. Fawkes was nudging at something amidst Lockhart's ruined body. Harry walked over, and bent down.

It was the diary.

It seemed to gleam to Harry, and he reached down, ignoring Fawkes' sudden squawk, and picked it up. He went rigid as something streamed up his arm, and zapped into his mind. He collapsed once more.

Harry was hovering in mid air. He looked around him in surprise; he was back at the Dursley's house. Home. How had that happened? He walked through the rooms, looking for his family, but they were nowhere to be found. As he approached the stairs, he became aware of a ringing, manic laughter. And then a familiar voice spoke.

"Oh yes, this is perfect! There's such power here Harry, if only you could use it. Don't worry, though, I shall have no trouble taking control of it. You should have given in and died when I gave you the chance Potter; now you get to sit in the back of your own head and watch as I tear the world apart using your body and magic!"

Harry charged up the stairs, but there was no-one there either. He looked around him frantically, the laughter echoing in his ears. There was only one place he hadn't looked. The under-stairs cupboard. Darting back downstairs, he ran to the door, and yanked it open.

There was nothing. Literally. The door opened onto a vast emptiness, a silence that drowned out the laughter, and that seemed to call to him. He reached his arm out, and the nothing folded around his wrist, almost painfully. But the tips of his fingers were warm whereas his wrist was cold. He pushed his other arm in, Riddle forgotten, trying to tear the blackness away from whatever was on the other side.

And then he heard an inrush of air behind him, and Riddle shoved him into the blackness. He fell, screaming at the painful cold all around his body, Riddle's cry of triumph fading away.

And then he was through the nothing, and he was blinded by the light.

Riddle watched as his youthful nemesis fell away, and shivered in satisfaction. There was enormous power behind the curtain of darkness, and if Harry ever breached the other side of the curtain, he would be swamped in it, unable to tear himself away from the wonder of his magic even if the thought ever occurred to him. Riddle however… Riddle could bypass the curtain, the barrier preventing Harry from accessing his full potential. It was darkness, just as he was – and if he wasn't totally mistaken, it was representative of his own magic. A remnant of their first encounter?

He reached into the darkness, glorying in the pain and cold, but still pushing his hand through it, trying to reach the magic beyond it, trying to bind it to himself. He felt warmth on his fingers, and then he recoiled, staring at his fingers in shock. They had turned black. He looked at the darkness again, and frowned. Small spots of light were appearing in it, barely noticeable, but still there. He reached out to touch one, and hissed as his skin blistered.

He took a step back, thinking. He was desperately trying to remember everything that could hurt a shard of a soul, as he was. There were several things, but a large amount of raw magic was not one of them. Unless… No, that was impossible. Potter couldn't be… Could he?

He reached into the darkness again, trying to find proof for his theory. But he was thrown back, violently. He stared at the dark nothingness in shock as a voice echoed around the hall.

"You are not welcome here. This is our domain. Get. Out. Of. His. Head!"

Riddle roared in anger as he was thrown from Potter's mind by some unseen force, a force that felt weirdly familiar, yet inherently different to anything he had ever felt before.

Harry came to, coughing violently. His magic… He couldn't describe it, but his worries of too much power had been dispelled. He didn't care any more, he just wanted to be able to feel like that again. It had been wondrous. A sudden snarl distracted him, and he looked up to see a flickering figure standing in front of him. He was dressed in Hogwarts robes, a Slytherin badge on the breast, with a head boy badge next to it. He looked frighteningly similar to Harry; tidier hair, much taller, and blue eyes, but there was a definite resemblance. Unless you counted the vicious snarl, the bared teeth, and the aggressive posture. Harry remembered what Riddle had said: 'We even look something alike…'

So this was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry grabbed his wand from the floor where he had dropped it, casting several spells in succession. They passed straight through Riddle's ghostly body. Riddle charged at him, trying to grab him, but his hand passed straight through Harry's arm. Harry yelped – it had been painfully cold – and dived for the sword. He swung it wildly, striking Riddle straight in the chest, but again, Riddle's body merely rippled around the blade.

They stood for a moment, not breaking eye contact, Harry breathing heavily. How could the deadlock be broken? And then Fawkes flew past, dropping something at Harry's feet.

The diary.

Riddle started forward, reaching out for it, but Harry placed his foot on it. He looked Riddle in the eye. He would have expected to feel happier about this, but his anger outweighed his relief.

"This is for Ginny. And for Zach. And one day, I'm going to find the real you, and do the same."

And he slashed the sword down, hitting the diary right on the spine.

Riddle screamed as the diary fell apart, his body jerking, distorting, and then a white light began to shine from under his skin. He reached out to Harry again, a wild look on his face. And then he just vanished, imploding with a rush of air. Harry stared in silence at the space where Riddle had been, unable to quite comprehend that the nightmare was over, when he heard a sharp gasp echo round the Chamber. He turned slowly, wincing as the pain rushed back once more, and limped over to where Ginny was slowly sitting up, rubbing her eyes. She looked blearily at Harry, and then her eyes widened in shock and she looked around in fear.

"Harry, we've got to get out – oh my god…"

She fell silent as she saw the corpse of the basilisk and the shattered remnants of Lockhart's body.

"Harry, what – what happened here? Where did you get a sword?"

"Lockhart – and Riddle – are dead; I'll explain everything later, I just want to get out of here. I don't suppose you can remember how can you? I didn't exactly come here willingly."

Ginny looked uncertain, but nodded, climbing to her feet. She stuck her arm out, offering Harry support, and he took it, too weary to refuse. Together, they walked slowly from the Chamber, not looking back at the remnants of the battle.

The title of the chapter is from Revelations, 12:9. The quotation in full is 'And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, who deceiveth the whole world'. The epigraph is something I found in my course reading and, in addition to being a stirring criticism of censorship, seems very apt for this story, and this chapter in particular. Even if the diary isn't exactly a good book…