"Are you just going to hide there, Harry?" Riddle taunted, as Harry clutched his head with one hand, and pulled the hat off with the other. "Poor Ginny's running out of time."

Inside the hat, glistened a sword. Harry drew it without hesitating, and stuffed the hat back into his pocket. The sword was silver, and heavy, but Harry tested its weight and thought he'd be able to lift it well enough to swing at or stab the basilisk. The problem was, what was he supposed to do with it? Hacking blindly at the snake's body probably wouldn't do much more than make it angry, but getting to the head would be tricky if he couldn't look at it. He could try to levitate the sword up to cut at the basilisk, but he thought he'd be more likely to lose it than do any damage.

But Ginny's running out of time, Harry thought, tightening his grip on the sword. Damn it, think, Harry, think-

Music flooded the chamber, and golden light cast shadows on the walls. He thought he could hear wings.

Fawkes, Harry thought, relieved. He risked a look out from behind the pillar through mostly closed eyes; all he could see was swaying green and every now and then, a streak of red. The basilisk made a horrible, pained noise and Tom shouted angrily. Without thinking, Harry opened his eyes for a better look. Fawkes was hovering above the basilisk's head with bloody claws, and the basilisk was snapping at him, with long, deadly fangs to little avail; it couldn't rear properly, because Harry's sticking charm was still in place; the last third of its body was stuck, only a few feet from the base of Slytherin's statue.

Perhaps drawn by the sound of his movement, the basilisk turned its head in his direction, and Harry found himself looking at its eye. Myrtle had said they were yellow, but now, they were red and bloody.

Fawkes.

He doubted it could see him at all. Harry didn't hesitate. He ran out from his hiding spot, toward the snake, which was torn between snapping at Fawkes, and trying to work out where he was.

It snapped at him, but Harry dodged easily and eyed its mouth. He could stab it there, he thought, but he didn't fancy getting in the way of those teeth. Its tongue flicked out, and Harry slashed at it, but missed. It lunged at him in retaliation, and Harry jumped back, out of reach.

He risked a look at Riddle, who was staring at him, stunned; likely as not, he was wondering where Harry had pulled a sword from. Harry looked back at the basilisk, which was snapping at Fawkes.

Top of the head, he thought, heart pounding. But how do I get up there? He eyed the statue, and ran forward, taking care to keep the sword between him and the basilisk. He was glad he had; a moment later, the basilisk lunged for him. It was off-target – missing him with its teeth by a good few feet – but the side of its head still knocked him over. Harry hit it on the nose with the sword, and it backed off, hissing. Fawkes swooped down again, giving him a chance to find his feet.

"Leave the bird! Kill Potter!" Riddle snapped; he'd moved, to keep the basilisk between himself and Harry. It occurred to Harry that he was afraid. But, he was looking more and more solid every time Harry looked, and that didn't bode well. Harry scrambled up onto Slytherin's stone foot - which put him at the basilisk's head height – while the basilisk was distracted by Fawkes. The basilisk's tongue lashed out, and it turned its head, clearly listening for him. Harry held his breath, and pulled off his shoe, and when it didn't appear to notice that, tossed his shoe down.

"Kill Potter!"

As soon as the shoe hit the ground, the basilisk's head shot toward it, and Harry stabbed the sword down into the top of its head, as hard as he could. The snake jerked so violently that Harry was pulled off the statue – he clung to the sword – and then crashed to the floor of the Chamber. Harry lost his grip on the sword and was flung to the ground, bouncing a few times before he rolled to a stop, several yards from the basilisk.

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position. He felt a bit bruised and battered, but didn't think he'd broken anything. Riddle, stared at Harry with loathing, and ran toward the basilisk, which was very still. The sword was sticking out of the top of its head, looking like some sort of gruesome, silver and ruby crown. Fawkes, who'd alighted on the statue, let out a warble.

Harry patted his pocket to be sure he still had his wand, and went to fetch the diary, which hadn't moved. It was a plain thing – much too plain to be responsible for all of the trouble it had caused – bound in black leather. The pages inside it were blank, but Harry found Riddle's name in the cover. Riddle himself was walking around behind Harry, but he was wandless, so Harry ignored him and turned the diary over in his hands. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with it, but getting it away from Riddle seemed like a good start.

He was just about to put it into his pocket, when Fawkes screeched, and pain lanced through his back.

Sirius didn't see the spell coming. Luck saved Ron, who was just short enough that it flew over his head, and saved Sirius, who was just enough to the left that he felt it pass his cheek. Luck wasn't enough for Yaxley, though, who was hit in the throat and fell to the ground, convulsing, in the doorway to Myrtle's bathroom. Another spell hit Shacklebolt, knocking him back into the wall, where he lay, still, and a third spell would have hit Hemsley, but he blocked it in time to be charged by a man emerging from the bathroom.

Sirius shot a stunning spell at him, but he deflected it with ease, though Snape's cutting charm got his side. Sirius heard his hiss of pain. The man flicked his wand. The hallway exploded around them. Sirius got to Ron in time, shielding him with his own body, but Sirius just felt brief heat, and was hit by a few chunks of stone; Robards and Proudfoot had got their wands up in time to shield them all from the worst of it.

"Proudfoot," Robards barked. "McKinnon, Hemsley." The three of them nodded and took off after the man, who'd just disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor.

"You all right?" Sirius asked Ron, who nodded, wide-eyed. Sirius crouched down beside Yaxley, and after a few attempts, managed to cancel the spell on her. She rubbed her throat, and let Sirius pull her to her feet, but she didn't look well. Shacklebolt was up and about, thanks to Snape, and Robards emerged from the bathroom to tell them it was clear.

"You'll stay with Ron and Snape," Sirius told Yaxley, who didn't even try to argue. She nodded unsteadily, and Sirius helped her into the bathroom, where Robards and Ron were standing by the sinks. One was covered in scorch marks, and the mirror above it was cracked; obviously, the man who'd been in here before had been trying to access the Chamber as well.

"I forgot, I'm sorry," Ron said, turning to Sirius with an absolutely miserable expression. "Harry used parseltongue to get us in, but he had to close it. I'm sorry, I-" It went without saying that Harry was not with them now, and that none of them spoke parseltongue. Sirius felt his heart drop, as he looked at the scorch marks on the sink. Force didn't work, it seemed. Sirius drew his wand anyway, fully prepared to tear the bathroom apart if that's what it took, though he had little hope of it working.

"Stand back," he told the other five. Robards guided Ron back, and Yaxley staggered back into Kingsley. Snape watched with his arms folded.

Then, a silvery cat trotted into the bathroom, sat, right in front of them, and hissed.

Riddle stepped away from Harry and tossed the basilisk fang he'd just stabbed him with to the ground. Harry sucked a shaky breath in through his teeth. His back – just below his left shoulder blade – felt like it was on fire. Then, Riddle's shiny shoe entered Harry's vision, and embedded itself in his side. Harry's vision went white with pain for a few moments, and he thought he might have screamed.

When he was able to focus again, he was lying on his back with Riddle was standing over him, sneering. Fawkes was perched on his knee, warbling softly, and kneading Harry's robes in his claws.

"Even the bird knows you're dead," Riddle said. "Basilisk venom is extraordinarily potent, Harry. You've got a minute at most." His eyes unfocused for a moment, and then his smile widened. "Ginny will be waiting for you, though, if you believe in that sort of thing." He tone made it obvious that he didn't. "She's starting to slip away."

"No," Harry groaned. Fawkes hopped up to stand by his head, and nudged his left shoulder, making Harry's back twinge. "Stop it," he mumbled, trying to wave Fawkes away with his right hand. He could feel the venom in him, feel burning in his legs and chest, and a faint stinging sensation in his fingertips and toes. Harry used his right arm – the one he could move without it being excruciating – to reach for his wand, but Riddle kicked it out of his hand and bent to pick it up.

"I think I'll find better use for this than you," he said, twirling it in his long fingers. "You're beyond magic's help anyway, so I don't know what you could possibly want with it."

"Beyond-" Harry's vision swam, and he could feel warm blood pooling under him. "-magical repair?" he asked. Fawkes nudged him again, a little more desperately this time.

"Oh yes," Riddle said smugly. Harry braced himself, and then, in one, swift, excruciating movement, rolled himself over onto his front to grab the basilisk fang. Riddle only laughed, and stepped out of Harry's reach.

He was still laughing, in fact, when Harry summoned what seemed like the last of his strength, and drove the fang through the leather of the diary, which had fallen out of Harry's hands when Riddle stabbed him.

Ink burst out of the diary, Riddle dropped Harry's wand with a howl at the same time as Fawkes attacked Harry; Harry could feel his sharp claws and beak shredding robes, but was too exhausted to do anything about it. Then, Harry's back really started to burn, and pain clouded his vision. His head dropped forward, into the ink that was steadily oozing from the diary.

The last thing he noticed, before everything went black, was that Riddle was gone. Harry managed a weak smile through the pain, and thought that was worth dying for.

"I want to help," Ron said, stepping after Sirius; Robards and Shacklebolt had already disappeared down the tunnel leading into the Chamber. It looked steep, and it occurred to Sirius that there probably wasn't – short of levitating themselves up – an easy way back.

"I'll need someone to fetch brooms, and stay up here so that we can get out afterward," Sirius said, looking at Snape and Yaxley, who nodded, and then at Ron, who didn't.

"Down there," Ron said, looking down the tunnel.

"Ron," Sirius said, too desperate to get down there and do something to bother being kind. "You'd be in the way. And even if you were older, or knew more spells… I don't know what we're going to find down there, and if-" He swallowed. "-if it's… bad, if Harry's- you don't need to see that." Ron was very white under his freckles, but he nodded and stepped back toward Snape.

Sirius jumped down the tunnel. Shacklebolt and Robards were waiting for him in a small chamber. The floor seemed to be comprised entirely of bones, and Sirius moved gingerly over them, through an archway and into a tunnel.

"Shall we split up?" Robards asked, looking to the left and right.

"This way," Sirius said, sniffing the air. He could smell Harry and Ron clearly and beneath their scents was one that might have been Ginny's. Sirius gripped his wand, listening, but the tunnel was silent. He and the other two made their way down quickly but quietly, wands aloft.

Shacklebolt and Robards slowed when they spotted the scaly outline up ahead, but Sirius couldn't hear it moving, or hear a heartbeat or breathing, so he cast a quick bludgeoning hex ahead. A section of what turned out to be skin collapsed, and he waved at the others to keep up.

Please be all right, he thought. This was much, much worse than last year; last year, when Harry'd gone after the Stone, Sirius had been half-dead and hadn't known about it until Harry was safely in the hospital wing. This time, though, Sirius was very much aware of the situation, and was sure – if everything turned out okay – that he'd have more than a few grey hairs he hadn't had that morning. If it didn't turn out okay- well, Sirius didn't want to think about that. Losing Lily and James had broken him. Losing Harry, he thought, would destroy him.

The tunnel opened up into a large chamber, lined with pillars, and all sorts of other snake-adorned stonework. Sirius could smell Harry and blood all through it.

"Homenum revelio," Robards said softly, as they entered. "One human, one non-human, up the end there." Sirius squinted ahead, but couldn't see much. Then, the sound of quiet footsteps caught Sirius' ear, and someone said something in a low voice.

"Disillusionment Charm," Sirius murmured to Shacklebolt, who nodded.

He, Robards, and the invisible Shacklebolt continued up the Chamber. A statue of Slytherin loomed up ahead, staring down on them with a rather stern expression, and at its feet, lay the basilisk, unmoving. Dumbledore's Phoenix was perched on the snake's jaw, watching them, and a short, black robed figure looked up as they approached.

"Harry," Sirius called, and Harry looked up, apparently startled to see them.

His front and face were covered in some sort of black goo, though there was blood on the collar of his shirt. In his hand, was a bloodstained, silver sword, inlaid with rubies, and in his other hand, was his wand. He started to smile at the sight of Sirius, but then his eyes flicked to where Shacklebolt was, and he took a step back, wand coming up. They were close enough that Sirius could smell him, and how wary his scent was. Sirius hesitated.

"Padfoot?" Sirius lifted his own wand, swallowing. He wanted very much for it to be Harry, but he wasn't stupid enough to discount the possibility of him being possessed. Harry eyed the wand in his hand.

"Where's Riddle?" Sirius asked, looking around.

"Gone," Harry said. "Or- well, I think he is."

"You're sure?" Sirius asked, arching an eyebrow. Riddle had been using a horcrux, or at least they'd thought so. So either they'd been wrong or Harry'd worked out how to destroy it. Sirius glanced around, but there was nothing unusual about, except for the large black puddle on the Chamber's floor. Sirius was a little sickened to see that it seemed to be mixed with blood.

"I think so," Harry said again. "Is Ginny all right?"

"I don't know, kiddo," Harry's lip trembled, and that was what convinced Sirius that it was just Harry; Riddle wouldn't have even asked, he didn't think, and certainly wouldn't have responded with a wobbly lip. "She wasn't looking well when I left, but she'd be with Pomfrey by now, so-" Somehow, his response had convinced Harry of whatever he needed to hear as well; Robards and Shacklebolt both started as the sword dropped to the floor and Harry rushed at Sirius.

Sirius was ready, though, and had his arms open and waiting by the time Harry closed the distance between them. He hit with considerable force for such a lanky kid, but Sirius didn't mind. Harry was trembling, and his front was soaked with whatever the black stuff was, and his back was covered in blood. Sirius pulled away and turned him around, worried, and Harry stiffened, but obliged.

Harry's robes were shredded and bloody, and his back was covered in thin scratches, but none looked life-threatening, nor were they deep enough to account for all the blood. Sirius fixed them with a quick wave of his wand, and froze. Just below Harry's left shoulder blade, was a large, round scar that he'd never noticed on Harry before – and that would explain the blood – but it looked to be a few weeks old, and Harry wasn't any good with healing spells yet…

"Later," Harry muttered, fidgeting, when Sirius touched the scar. Sirius arched an eyebrow at him, but nodded. Shacklebolt was visible again, and he and Robards were examining the dead basilisk under Fawkes' watchful eye.

"It's definitely dead," Shacklebolt said. "But fresh; the blood isn't even dry yet." He looked curiously at Harry, who was staring at his ruined trainers. Sirius picked up the bloody sword Harry'd dropped, and then glanced at his godson, who still wouldn't look at them. Harry smelled uncomfortable and overwhelmed, and Sirius knew there were no answers to be had from him at the moment.

Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Let's get you out of here."