Ron felt solid ground under his feet and the heat on his face faded until a feeling akin to sunburn. Fawkes' bright, yellow-orange light flared before his eyes, and Ron could hear voices over the whoosh of the flames. Ginny moved a little – and Ron took comfort from that - but her weight was still solely on Ron. Then, it was gone – he assumed Harry had her - and so was Fawkes' light, though Ron could feel the bird on his shoulder.
The Entrance Hall came into view, and Ron was astounded to see just how many people there were; all four Houses, from the looks of it – Fred and George were being kept at bay by McGonagall – most of the teachers, and a whole heap of Aurors and other Ministry workers. To be fair, they all looked just as astounded to see him, Harry and Ginny, who had, Ron supposed, just appeared with a Phoenix in the middle of the school's evacuation. He'd probably stare too.
Ron turned to Harry, unable to help his grin; they'd saved Ginny, hadn't even seen the basilisk, beaten Riddle for the time being, and made it out in one piece – except for Ginny, who'd be fine once they got her to Madam Pomfrey. It wasn't Harry who'd taken Ginny, and was beside him, though; it was Sirius.
Ron spun on the spot, and Fawkes' claws dug into his shoulder as he tried to keep himself steady. Harry was nowhere to be seen. With a sinking heart, he turned back to Sirius, who'd just passed Ginny off to Marlene.
"Ron," he said. "What- where's Harry?" Ron's feeling of giddy relief faded entirely with those words.
"He was- Fawkes got us out, and he was right beside me- he- I didn't leave him there, I promise-" Sirius hand was firm on Ron's shoulder, despite the fact that his voice and expression were shaky.
"There? The Chamber?" Ron nodded.
"With Riddle, but we didn't see the basilisk-"
Sirius looked him up and down and asked, "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Ron said. He had a bit of a headache from what he was sure had been the Imperius curse, and he was feeling rather sick with guilt and worry for Harry, but he could manage those. "We've got to help Harry, though. He's down there with Riddle and the basilisk-" Ron hoped Harry had let go of Fawkes for a reason, rather than because he'd been attacked. But what was down there that Harry could possibly want? Both he and Sirius jumped as Fawkes vanished in a ball of golden fire.
"Do you remember how to get down there?" Sirius asked. Ron nodded, and Sirius' expression flickered. Ron thought he was relieved "We'll need you then; better you take us there than waste time describing it. Wait here." Sirius turned away, back to the Aurors and teachers, presumably to get a group together.
"Thank Merlin!" Professor Sprout said.
"Miss Weasley, are you hurt?" McGonagall said.
"Professor," he heard Ginny say weakly, "no, please, you don't understand- Ron's- he's helping Tom, he- and Harry-" She sounded like she was getting more and more worked up. Ron approached the group, and was patted on the back by George, who looked him over with concern, and then relief once he realised he wasn't hurt. Ginny looked up at him with huge eyes. He wondered, absently, if the bags under them had always been that bad, if her cheeks had always been that hollow. While she was awake, it seemed being away from Riddle hadn't helped much, and the sick feeling in Ron's stomach came back, stronger than ever. She'll be dead in a few more minutes, Riddle had said.
"I'm here," he said, swallowing. "And I'm not- it was a spell- I wouldn't-" Ginny's lip trembled, and for a moment, Ron thought she might cry, but then her eyes flicked to all of the people around her, and she seemed to pull herself together. McGonagall sent a silvery cat up the staircase to tell Madam Pomfrey to expect Ginny immediately.
"And- and Harry?" she asked. It seemed to be a huge struggle for her, but she managed to get herself into a sitting position, so she could look through the thicket of legs around her. Ron didn't like the way her face paled, and Marlene moved to catch her when she swayed. Ginny let her. "Is he okay?" she asked weakly.
"He will be," Sirius said, and Ron thought the look in his face could send Riddle running. He had Snape and four Aurors behind him, and he glanced at the older Auror beside Fred. "Robards, I could use the help." The Auror nodded, and then Sirius put a hand on Marlene's arm and she stood as well, leaving Ginny in the care of Professor Sprout.
"He didn't come back with us?" Ginny asked Ron, and he could have sworn that her face had thinned in the past few seconds. He shook his head at her, and she sagged against Sprout, face very white.
Once the Aurors get down there, they can make Riddle let her go, Ron told himself. Down in the Chamber, Riddle had said she had minutes, and that was- well, minutes ago. She was running out of time, and Harry'd been alone down there for minutes now too. Riddle could have called the basilisk, and then what would Harry do?
"Ron, let's go," Sirius said urgently, and Ron turned away from Ginny. Ron hoped, but didn't really believe that Sirius would let him go down to the Chamber again, but he was just happy to be able to help at all. He supposed – if nothing else – that showed how worried everyone was, that they were willing to let a not-quite-thirteen year old lead them, and that no one had objected. Ron stared at him for a few seconds, and at the other Aurors, and even Snape, who were all watching him, waiting.
"Right," he said. "This way." He started toward the staircase, and they all followed him without question.
"Wait," a voice said weakly, and Ron turned around to see Ginny on her feet, taking small, unsteady steps toward them. Fred, George and McGonagall were around her, obviously ready to catch her if she stumbled. As Ron watched, she reached out to steady herself on Fred. "I'm coming too."
"The only place you're going, Miss Weasley," McGonagall said, conjuring a stretcher, "is the hospital wing. You're dead on your feet."
She saw Ron wince, and wondered if he too, was thinking that McGonagall was closer to being right than she probably knew. But Ginny wasn't dead yet, couldn't die yet, not when they still needed her. Her vision dimmed, and she wobbled. Fred tried to put her onto the stretcher, but she clung to him, embarrassed and angry by how hard it was to even keep herself upright.
"You can hardly stand, Ginny," George said, appearing on her other side to help Fred get her onto the stretcher. She tried to kick them, but she could hardly find the strength to lift her leg. Her brothers lifted her easily.
"No," she said. "They need me-"
"Noble though your intentions are," McGonagall said, not unkindly, as she guided the stretcher forward with a wave of her wand, "the Aurors are quite a capable bunch and will certainly manage without you."
Did you hear that, Ginny? The voice was Tom's, and made her gasp as if she'd just been doused with freezing water. They don't need you. No one needs you. In fact, they're better off without you. Ginny was sure it wasn't actually Tom, but rather her own imagination, fuelled by, well, fuelled by Tom's influence. Or at least she hoped; the only good thing she could think of about him having his own body was that he wouldn't need hers anymore. It would kill her, if what he'd said was true, but at least she'd die as herself and not with Tom in her head, controlling her mouth and limbs.
She wasn't even scared anymore. Or, not much.
The stretcher was soft, but firm under her, and she was so tired. Fred's sweaty hand was in hers, and she could see George's worried face looking down at her as the stretcher drifted along. It would be so easy to just close her eyes and let everyone else worry about it all. But Harry and Ron had come for her, and Ron was okay, but she could still help Harry, or at least, help the Aurors help Harry. It might be too late for her, but with help, Harry could stop Tom, or the Aurors could, and Ginny thought that was worth dying for. Her vision dimmed again, and she struggled against it.
Not yet, she thought, feeling dizzy.
"I have to go with them," Ginny said, reaching for McGonagall's sleeve. McGonagall only glared at her, but Ginny could see in her eyes how worried she was. "Please," Ginny said weakly. She felt a little more of her strength drain away, and her heart pounded. Maybe it knew it was running out of time. Ron and the Aurors were gone, but they wouldn't get far. "They can't get down there, otherwise."
"Miss Weasley, you need the hospital wing," McGonagall said thickly.
"I have to help," Ginny said. If she was well, she'd probably have shouted that, and stomped her foot for good measure. As it was, she just lay her head back down, and fought her heavy eyelids. Her tongue was heavy too, like a plank of wood. "It's- parseltongue- they can't- but I… can." She turned her head toward McGonagall, whose face was a blur beneath a green hat. "I have to… to help…"
"Parseltongue?" McGonagall asked. She sounded worried, and a bit out of breath. "How would you open it, Miss Weasley?"
"Tell it... Open," Ginny sighed. She thought she recognised the blurred outline of a painting on the fourth floor. "We're- this is… wrong way…"
McGonagall said something that Ginny didn't quite hear, and there was a flash of silvery light. Ginny couldn't even muster the strength to sit up and see what it was.
"Ginny," George said. Ginny couldn't see him, so she assumed her eyes had closed. She couldn't quite remember how to open them, but she managed to turn her head toward the voice to show she could hear him.
"Again, Miss Weasley," McGonagall said, from the other side of her. "What would you say to open it?"
"Open," Ginny said, to the darkness; she still couldn't work out how to open her eyes. "You say open. Please… I have to help…"
"Quickly," McGonagall said – not to her, she didn't think - and then started to say something else, but silence fell in Ginny's dark world.
"You haven't saved her," Riddle said, peeling off his sodden robes, as he glared at the spot where Fawkes had just vanished. "Just bought her an extra few minutes. Enough, maybe, for them to think she's got a chance. And then she'll die." Riddle's smile was cruel.
"Not if I stop you," Harry said, bluffing. He was here for the diary, and he'd get out as soon as he had it. He just hoped Fawkes came back for him, or he'd have no choice but to Apparate, or try to outrun Riddle. He didn't look at the diary as he spoke; the last thing he wanted was to draw Riddle's attention to it, because then it would be that much harder to get.
"How noble," Riddle said mockingly. "But in case you haven't noticed Harry, you're alone, and I'm getting stronger by the minute."
"At the strongest you've ever been, I beat you," Harry said. He took a step forward, and felt something soft under his shoe. It was the sorting hat; he picked it up, and stuffed it into his pocket. Fawkes had a reason from bringing it, he was sure, but he didn't know what that reason might be. He thought it was safe to bet that it wasn't so that Riddle could have it, though. "Didn't even get out of my cot to do it, either." It was an effort to grin, but it was worth it to see Riddle flush an ugly pink colour. "And you're alone as well. I rather like my chances." Though he'd liked them a lot more, when Ron and Fawkes were with him.
"Alone?" Riddle asked, with another smile. "But I'm not, Harry; speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!" A dull grating noise made Harry look up at the statue of Slytherin. Its mouth was opening, and he could see movement inside it.
Harry ran. Not far, because he couldn't put too much space between him and the diary, but far enough that he was able to get himself behind a pillar by the time he heard the snake hit the chamber floor.
"Kill him," Riddle said, sounding almost bored, and the snake replied with a hiss that didn't mean anything. Harry heard its scales on the stone as it moved toward him and heard the flick of its tongue as it tasted the air. He patted his pockets, desperate, but all he had was his wand and the hat.
"Leave me alone," Harry called to the basilisk, "and I won't hurt you." He remembered the kelpie at Malfoy Manor, and how he'd been able to appeal to its sense of self-preservation. He hoped the same could work here, too.
"Hurt me?" the basilisk asked. It made an odd hissing sound that might have been laughter. "Why should I fear one that ssmellss asss sscared asss you do?" It made the odd laughing sound again, and he heard it come closer. It was in no hurry, Harry realised; it was enjoying this. Not that he blamed it; he didn't have much chance unless he thought of something, and quickly.
He eyed the pillars, and wondered if he could bring one of them down on top of it. He knew Bombarda, but he didn't think that would be strong enough. And, what if it didn't fall the way he wanted it to? And spells would bounce off the basilisk's thick scales…
Unless I don't target the basilisk directly, he thought. He drew his wand, shut his eyes, and stuck his head around the side of the pillar, hoping he'd judged right, and that the basilisk wasn't close enough to strike. He couldn't see the basilisk – and therefore couldn't be petrified – but he could hear it, and could smell it. It made the hiss-laugh sound again, and shivers ran down Harry's spine.
"Colloshoo," Harry shouted, and ducked back behind the pillar again. He heard a hiss of rage – though he wasn't sure whether it was from Riddle or the snake – but he took it as a sign that his spell had worked. Harry wracked his brains for any other spells that might help him, but the most offensive spells he knew were Bombarda and Incendio, and he didn't think they'd be particularly helpful. He just wished he was good enough at Transfiguration to be able to conjure a rooster. Harry was confident he could make a wolf, but he had no idea where to even start with birds.
He could hear the basilisk thrashing around on the other side of the pillar, trying to get free of Harry's spell.
"Fix it," he heard it hiss at Riddle.
"I can't," Riddle sounded particularly sour about that, and Harry felt a surge of relief. If nothing else, it confirmed that Riddle didn't have a wand.
Right, Harry thought, the snake's stuck, but I'm dead if I look at it… my wolf isn't any help; Mrs Norris was petrified, just like everyone else. He was glad about that, because otherwise, he might have tried it. And I don't know where it's stuck. If its head was free, it might still be able to strike at him. And I need the diary, but if I get too close to Riddle, he might get my wand, and then I'm dead as well.
He envied Padfoot then, who'd always been able to summon things with magic. Harry was yet to learn that particular skill. The only thing he could summon was Kreacher – and he cursed himself for not thinking of that before, though with Fawkes there it hadn't mattered - but there was no way to warn Kreacher and he couldn't risk him Apparating in to the basilisk's line of sight.
Feeling rather desperate – but it was Gryffindor's old hat, so it was bound to know something useful - Harry pulled out the hat and jammed it onto his head. The basilisk was still hissing madly, in frustration.
I need to kill Slytherin's basilisk, Harry said to the hat. Do you know any spells, or- or do you have any ideas-
And one hit him, rather hard, on the head.