July 18, 1998 (Harry)
It took several long weeks of searching. Wandering through the rainforests of Brazil, Apparating from place to place, with nothing to guide their journey. Harry had seen the place in a vision, during his sojourn through time with the Essence of Thought, but had no idea how to find it. All he knew was that Voldemort had come here once, to perform a ritual to strengthen his body, and he must do the same.
Their breakthrough came once Hermione insisted on using the Draught of Omniscience to aid their search. At each of their stops, Hermione would drink a small quantity of the potion, then do whatever it was that allowed her to sense if there was magic present nearby. For several days it was fruitless, and Harry began to doubt if the Draught even worked as she believed it to. But they finally made a discovery on a rainy afternoon, Apparating into a densely-forested region in the northwestern region of the country.
"I think this is it," Hermione said excitedly, her eyes closed but her magic probing the land around them. "I feel strong magic nearby."
Harry too sensed that they were on the right path. Something about this region felt right to him, like he'd been here before. Of course he hadn't, but one of his forerunners had, and he'd shared the memory during his voyage with the Essence of Thought. He vaguely recognized a tall cliffside nearby and felt that it was the right place to start their search. "This way," he said, and they began making the trek up and out of the dense forest.
The lone path up the side of the cliff was perilous and uneven. It appeared to be a natural ledge untouched by man, but Harry had a feeling there was a purpose to the makeshift path, as though it was intended for travel. They had to navigate several obstacles that would have deterred any Muggle passers-by, such as a large gap overlooking a steep drop and a heavy waterfall that cascaded directly over their path. Harry and Hermione carefully maneuvered through it all, staying alert for any kind of magical defenses that could be triggered by mistake.
They reached the top of the cliffside, and at once Harry knew they were in the right place. Smoke drifted lazily into the sky from multiple sources, indicating civilization nearby. After cutting their way through more thick foliage, they found themselves at the outskirts of what looked like a small indigenous village. They stepped out into a clearing, and at once the locals raised the alarm, rushing towards them.
Harry and Hermione held up their hands in peace as the men and women of the village shouted at them in their native tongue, which did not sound like Portuguese. Harry might have thought them to be some un-contacted Muggle tribe, except for the fact that they brandished wands rather than traditional weaponry. There was no doubt that this was a magical dwelling, albeit one that had taken great pains to remain isolated from the outside world.
"We come in peace!" Harry shouted, keeping his hands raised. "We mean you no harm!"
A group of older villagers came forward, roughly a half-dozen or so. The crowd of villagers hushed, watching as these men and women spoke more calmly to Harry and Hermione, though still neither could understand them.
"I...we don't know your language, I'm sorry," Harry said sheepishly.
"Hang on," Hermione said, slowly drawing her wand (to the displeasure of the villagers). "Traducere." Hermione's spell had no visible effect, but at once Harry could understand everything the villagers were saying to him.
"What is your business here, outsider?" one of the older women demanded.
"We come in peace," Harry said nervously; the elders startled in surprise, indicating that Hermione's charm translated his own words back to them. "We come seeking to partake in a ritual your village is known for."
"We do not make our rituals known to the outside world," the woman snapped. "How did you come to learn of this ritual?"
"I...we learned of it from a man who was here before," said Harry. "Tom Riddle." It wasn't technically a lie; Voldemort had come here during his journey of improvement, and Harry had witnessed his memories (among others) of coming here to participate.
"Riddle?" the woman frowned. The elders looked at one another; clearly they recognized the name. Harry wondered how long ago it had been since Voldemort himself set foot in this village. Fifty years? Forty? How many of the villagers would even remember him? If any, it would be these folk, the oldest members they could see of the village.
"Wait here," the woman instructed, and the group retreated back into the village. The other villagers remained vigilant, wands still trained on Harry and Hermione, who remained still. After a tense couple of minutes, the elders returned, this time accompanied by a slightly younger man. He was adorned in more colorful attire, his face adorned with various runes and symbols Harry did not recognize. Whether they were painted on or permanently branded into his skin, he couldn't tell.
"I am Xoco, the shaman of this village," the man introduced himself. "Am I to understand that you wish to participate in the Ritual of the Serpent?"
"I do," Harry nodded, despite the feeling of foreboding at the name of the ritual.
"The ritual carries significant risk," Xoco cautioned. "You will be forced to interact with the blood and venom of the basilisk, which can kill as easily as it can strengthen you."
"There are basilisks? Here?!" Hermione gasped. "B-but aren't they dangerous? What if they escaped into Muggle regions?"
"That is our sacred duty," said Xoco. "To control the local population and keep them safe."
"But...why?" Hermione frowned. "Why not just kill the basilisks, if they're so dangerous?"
Several of the village elders hissed angrily at this remark, causing Hermione to flinch.
"The basilisk is a sacred species," said Xoco coolly. "We would not end their line out of fear. We respect their sovereignty as the original dwellers of this land, while killing only to prevent their spread beyond this valley."
"But that can't be the only reason you kill," Harry pointed out. "You also kill to perform the ritual."
The elders eyed Harry curiously at this innocuous remark. "No man has performed the ritual here in nearly fifty years," said Xoco suspiciously.
"Tom Riddle," Harry confirmed. "I know. I'm here to do the same as him."
"I was but a boy when the man known as Riddle passed through this village," Xoco frowned. "He was the first outsider to find us in centuries. He would have been killed on the spot, had he not possessed the Sacred Tongue."
"The Sacred Tongue?" Harry repeated, confused.
Xoco looked at Hermione and gestured toward her wand. Getting the hint, she lowered it, ending the Translation Charm between them. "Riddle could speak our true native language," Xoco hissed; Harry realized at once that he was speaking Parseltongue. "We do not allow outsiders without the Tongue to remain in our village, for their own safety."
"I too speak the Sacred Tongue," Harry responded, causing the elders to again widen their eyes in surprise. "Riddle and I are the last in Europe who can. I request access to your ritual."
"And you?" Xoco said, turning to Hermione. "Will you undergo the trials?"
Hermione looked to Harry, lost without the Translation Charm active. "She is not a speaker," Harry explained on her behalf. "But she is with me. She will not betray your secrets."
Xoco turned to the gathered elders, who held a hushed conversation in a different language neither Harry nor Hermione recognized. The shaman turned back to them, a suspicious look in his eye. "It is irregular, but she may stay," he hissed to Harry. "However, she too must complete the first trial of the ritual."
"What is the first trial?" Harry asked.
"You must provide the materials for the ritual yourself," Xoco explained. "We do not kill on behalf of the ritual-taker. He or she must do so themselves."
"Harry?" Hermione whispered anxiously. "What's going on?"
"They'll let us stay, on one condition," Harry sighed. "We have to hunt a basilisk ourselves."
"What?!" Hermione gasped. "B-but that's incredibly dangerous! How are we supposed to hunt something we can't look at?"
"I've done it once before," Harry shrugged, remembering his second-year misadventure in the Chamber of Secrets. "We're stronger now and can figure something out."
"But you had Fawkes helping you!" said Hermione. "I don't think this basilisk will have its eyes gouged out, and there won't be an antidote on hand if we're bitten!"
"Our patience grows thin, outsider," Xoco warned lightly. "What will it be? Will you engage in the hunt, or leave our village and never return?"
"We will hunt," Harry confirmed in Parseltongue. "Just tell us what we need to do."
Hermione seemed to sense what was being discussed, because she gripped Harry's arm in terror as the elders whispered amongst themselves excitedly.
"The basilisks can be found in the thickest part of the forest below," said Xoco. "Your best chance is to hunt at night, when they will be as blind as you. Return once you have collected samples of its blood, venom and scales, or never show your faces here again."
With that, Xoco and the elders retreated, and there was a sense of finality in their departure. The gathered guards continued to eye them warily, sending a clear message: Do not enter unless you've completed your task.
"Well, I suppose that's it, then," Harry sighed, turning to Hermione. "We'll have to complete this hunt before we do the ritual."
"Or we can just walk away," Hermione insisted. "You can't seriously be planning on walking into a basilisk den and hoping to walk out unscathed!"
"Riddle managed it," Harry shrugged. "And there are two of us. We can handle one snake, Hermione."
Hermione did not like his answer, but she could see he would not be deterred. "Fine," she huffed. "But we have to think this out logically, and take our time. Let's not rush into things."
"Deal," said Harry. So they Apparated to a quiet stretch of highlands nearby, apart from the village, and set up camp. The sun was already getting low in the sky, and Harry was already tired from the trek up the cliffside. There was no need to begin the hunt straight away. They would take the time to prepare before delving into the deep forest and facing their potential doom.
They spent the next two days discussing possible avenues of attack. Hermione insisted on wearing thick blindfolds, which she conjured and tailored herself. "Even if we open our eyes by accident for just a fraction of a second, the glare of the basilisk can kill us," Hermione said. "I only saw the snake's reflection in the mirror for a split second before I was Petrified."
"Myrtle said something similar about her own death," Harry muttered. "Just a pair of eyes, then instant death. Agreed, we'll keep the blindfolds on."
Hermione also insisted on using Harry's Invisibility Cloak at all times in the forest. "But won't it hinder us?" Harry inquired. "Shouldn't we leave ourselves open to move more freely and quickly?"
"Perhaps once the fighting begins," Hermione said. "But we'll want to move slowly and cautiously at first. We'll want to have the element of surprise on our hands, and it would do us no good to be spotted prematurely. Silencing Charms ought to help too."
"D'you reckon I could convince the basilisk to submit peacefully?" Harry wondered aloud. "Considering I'm a Parselmouth and all."
"So was Riddle, and so are all the villagers," Hermione pointed out. "The basilisk you encountered was bred and raised by Slytherin himself. These are wild creatures that will not answer to a master. I don't think it will make a difference."
"Still might be worth a try," Harry shrugged. "If all else fails."
So it was on a warm and windy evening that Harry and Hermione set off from their encampment shortly after sundown. Hermione had taken another swig of her Draught of Omniscience, "just in case", and was occasionally probing the area ahead of them as they descended into the dark, damp rainforest. They were reluctant to don the blindfolds, but it quickly became clear that they were nearly blind without them anyway, the thick canopy overhead preventing even the moonlight from reaching them.
Harry and Hermione inched forward bit by bit, huddled under the Invisibility Cloak. Occasionally they stumbled over a rogue tree root or had to maneuver around a boulder or thick brush, but they proceeded, slowly but surely, deeper into the pervasive darkness.
"I don't like this, Harry," Hermione whimpered as they continued to steal through the thick forest. "It's dangerous here. I can sense death all around us."
"We're close," Harry whispered back. "I can feel it. Relax; it can't see us any more than we can see it."
Harry couldn't explain it, but he could sense the basilisk's presence nearby, as though recognizing a nearby kin. His suspicions were confirmed by a great rustling of leaves and brush, as the massive serpent stirred from within its lair, hissing at the disturbance.
"Who approaches?" the snake hissed. "I cannot see you, human, but I can smell you."
Harry froze. He had forgotten this fact; even in the Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk had been able to pursue him while blinded thanks to its enhanced sense of smell. Hermione quivered beside him; she could not understand the words being spoken, but she clearly got the gist of the message.
"We have come for materials," Harry hissed back. "We require a sampling of venom, blood and scale. We will leave you unharmed if you provide them peacefully."
The basilisk hissed in what could either be mirth or anger at his statement. "We do not barter with humans," the snake replied. "You hold no claim to this land. Leave now, or be killed."
Harry felt a subtle burst of magic at his side, presumably Hermione activating her Sight. "Harry," she whispered fearfully. "It's looking right at us. I can see the death magic trying to reach us."
"There are two of you," the basilisk realized. "But the female speaks not our tongue. You are outsiders to this land."
Harry, no longer seeing a point in remaining concealed, whipped off the Invisibility Cloak. It did nothing to improve his vision beneath the blindfold, but he felt freer to use his wand if necessary. "We have great respect for your species," Harry said in an attempt to placate the snake. "We will not harm you unless necessary."
"You lie!" the basilisk hissed. "You have killed one of our kind before. I can sense it."
Harry had no idea how the basilisk knew this, but he wasn't in a position to ask questions now. "We require your materials and will not leave until we've got them," he said instead. "Submit to us, or we will be forced to—"
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked in warning. Harry too heard the great snap of branches as the snake lunged towards them; he grabbed Hermione and yanked her aside, feeling the powerful head of the snake rush past him, jaws snapping on the empty air where they'd been standing half a second before. Harry cast a rapid series of curses blindly ahead of him; the majority missed, while a handful merely ricocheted off of the snake's heavily-armored scales.
"Verdanus!" Hermione shouted, causing Harry to pause. What on earth was she doing, casting a Coloring Charm taught to first-years? "I'm marking the snake," she explained breathlessly. "The magical imprint will help me see it better with the Sight."
Harry wouldn't argue with that. He didn't know what she saw with her odd potion concoction, and he was unwilling to take the plunge into the Essence of Thought again, but he would take her word for it. He steeled himself for the snake's next move, listening for any rustling or sudden movements nearby.
"You do not wish to die the easy way by looking at me?" the basilisk hissed in what could only be a taunt. "Then you shall die the much more painful way."
Harry heard the snake lunge again; he dived away, but to his surprise, Hermione did not. "Sectumsempra!" she bellowed; a moment later, Harry heard a slashing noise as the dark curse connected with the snake, presumably in the mouth where it was unarmored. He heard the snake thump and writhe in pain, retreating a bit into the foliage. Harry smelled warm copper as fresh blood spilled from whatever wound Hermione had created.
"You dare use Dark magic against us?" the snake hissed angrily. "We are immune to most cursed spells. It is but a grave insult."
"You've just pissed it off even more now," Harry translated grimly.
"Damn," Hermione muttered. "I was just inspired by how you took down the other one years ago."
Harry too remembered killing Slytherin's monster with the Sword of Gryffindor, driving the silver blade through its head (and earning a basilisk fang to the arm for his troubles). He doubted the Sorting Hat, or Fawkes for that matter, would be coming to his aid this time. But it did give him another idea.
He began waving his wand across the ground, gathering small twigs, branches and rocks at his feet as the basilisk prepared its next attack. It was difficult enough to transfigure objects when he could see them, and now he was completely unsure how successful he would be.
"What are you—?" Hermione asked; another pulse of magic indicated that she'd used her Sight again. "Oh! Great idea, Harry."
She joined him in his efforts, using the environment around them to prepare for the snake's next attack. Harry knew they couldn't keep dodging its lunges forever; eventually it would wise up and encircle them with its massive length and have them cornered.
"Here it comes," Hermione whispered in warning. The snake had shaken off whatever lingering effects remained of Snape's invented spell, and was rearing back for another strike.
"We have to hold our ground," Harry warned. He set his feet, focusing on the objects gathered in front of him. Waiting…
He heard the snap as the snake lunged…
"NOW!" Hermione yelled.
With a great swipe of his wand, Harry levitated the small objects in front of him and forced them together. He had no idea if he'd been successful or not, but he silently prayed that a long wooden spear had materialized between them and the serpent, tip pointed at the approaching creature…
An almighty squelch indicated that he'd been successful. He and Hermione leapt backwards as the snake crashed to the ground, thrashing about in agony. The transfigured spear had been angled to pierce the snake deep into the back of its mouth; if it hadn't pierced the brain, at the very least it would do untold damage to the throat.
Harry could only wait, heart thumping, and listen as the snake writhed in pain. It didn't seem interested in them anymore, and no more Parseltongue could be heard from the great beast. After a tense minute of waiting, the movements of the serpent slowed and eventually ceased, succumbing to its injuries at last.
Harry felt another brush of magic from Hermione, and she let out a shaky exhale. "I think it's safe to look now," she said. "It's not looking at us anymore."
Harry removed his blindfold first. For a moment it remained dark, his eyes not yet adjusted to the pitch-black forest around them. But slowly he made out the outline of the great serpent before him, laying quite still aside from the occasional twitch of contracting muscles in death. He lit the tip of his wand to see a grisly but welcome sight: the spear had indeed pierced the serpent through the top of its head, the bulbous yellow eyes having rolled back into their sockets. The basilisk had been slain.
"Quickly, before another one shows up," he muttered as Hermione removed her own blindfold and gasped at the sight. He conjured two vials, handing one to Hermione as he leaned forward to remove one of the basilisk's fangs. He discovered that one of them had been severed by Hermione's Sectumsempra curse, deep gashes cutting into the gums along the right side of the serpent's mouth. Harry plucked a fang from the left side and carefully held it over the vial, watching as the black, tar-like venom dribbled from its tip into the glass container.
"Got the blood," Hermione announced, straightening herself with the other vial filled to the brim with viscous red liquid. "Now just the scales."
Harry tossed the fang aside and put a stopper on his vial before moving on to the serpent's neck. He used his wand to carefully cut away a handful of thick scales from the side of the snake. He placed them within a small moleskin pouch he'd received from Hagrid on his birthday nearly a year ago.
"Let's get out of here," he announced grimly. Hermione did not need telling twice. She took his arm, and he Apparated them away.
The elders seemed surprised when Harry and Hermione returned the following morning with the spoils of their hunt. Had they expected them to die? Hoped, even? Only Xoco seemed pleased to see them, greeting Harry warmly with a handshake before showing them to their private quarters.
Harry and Hermione were assigned a small hut, within which sat only two small cots for them to sleep in. It wasn't much, but Harry was grateful for any small gesture of kindness these days. "I will return at sunfall to retrieve you for the ritual," Xoco informed Harry. "Bring your supplies with you, and we can begin straight away."
"I'm coming with you to the ritual," Hermione said as soon as they were left alone. It was not a question, but a statement of fact.
"If they let you," Harry shrugged, knowing better than to argue with her.
"They will," Hermione insisted. "I want to see the setup for this ritual myself."
"God forbid they stand in the way of Hermione Jean Granger," Harry chuckled. He yawned and stretched exaggeratedly, sinking into one of the cots. It had been a long and stressful night, and he wanted to get some rest before the ritual that evening.
"How can you possibly think of sleeping?" Hermione demanded. She was still high-strung and stressed from the night before, and the looming prospect of the one to come.
"Dunno," Harry sighed, already feeling his eyelids grow heavy. He was oddly content with everything happening around him; last night's hunt was hardly the first life-threatening situation he'd survived, and the looming ritual did not worry him. If anything, he was eager to get started, to begin the process of strengthening himself for his looming showdown with Voldemort. Nothing would kill him before then; he could feel it.
"You rest, then," Hermione said, kneeling by his side to lightly stroke his hair. "I'll see if I can learn anything from the locals about this ritual."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry mumbled. He felt his glasses gently being removed from his face as he slipped into a deep sleep, reassured that the brightest witch of her age was by his side, keeping watch over him.
It felt like only moments later that Xoco returned. Harry readied himself with some light stretches and Occlumency meditation, while Hermione took yet another swig of her Draught of Omniscience.
When they exited the hut, seemingly the entire village was in the village square waiting for them, watching curiously as Xoco led the two outsiders to a much larger hut. Harry eyed them warily, feeling Hermione's nerves beside him. He reached out and gently took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze to reassure her. She gave him a weak smile, but clearly was not looking forward to whatever came next.
When Harry entered the hut, he was greeted by the sight of the half-dozen elders standing around a complex network of runes scattered on the ground. He and Hermione were directed to sit in the corner while the final preparations were made for the ritual.
Harry felt Hermione's magic pulse as she examined the rune network. "Oh, Harry, I don't like this one bit," she frowned. "This is extremely dangerous...if these symbols mean what I think they do…"
"What are they?" Harry asked at once. "You recognize the ritual?"
"Bits of it are familiar from others I've studied in Krum's books," she said. "It's volatile blood magic mixed with animal sacrifice and shamanic magic. I haven't studied shamanism much, but I've seen a few of these symbols in more obscure texts."
"What will the ritual do to me?" Harry asked.
"Not sure, exactly," Hermione frowned, still probing the runes around her. "If it goes well, I imagine you'll gain significant physical benefits. Better reflexes, improved stamina, a strengthened magical core—"
"Sounds good to me," Harry nodded.
"But that's assuming it does go well!" Hermione insisted. "If something goes awry, or a rune is out of place, it could kill you, or permanently damage your brain!"
"I trust these folk," Harry said, watching as Xoco and the elders drew the final runes around the circle at the center of the room. "They seem to know what they're doing."
"But they admitted themselves it hasn't been done in fifty years!" Hermione protested. "And Xoco said Riddle nearly died!"
"But it made him stronger as a result," Harry said adamantly. "I have to do the same."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort once more, but Xoco interrupted her. "The ritual is ready," he said. "Hand over your supplies and sit in the center of the circle."
Harry gave Hermione's hand one last reassuring squeeze before moving himself to the center of the mess of runes. He pulled the two vials and the pouch of scales he'd collected from the basilisk and handed them over to Xoco, who eyed them approvingly.
"Disrobe," he barked. Harry frowned at the instruction, but wasn't about to let modesty prevent him from following through with his mission. He pulled off his robes and undergarments, leaving him feeling quite exposed under the watchful eyes of the elders. He glanced sideways at Hermione, who cast her eyes down abashedly but continued to look terribly worried for him.
"We begin with an offering of your own blood," Xoco instructed. "Hold out your palms."
Harry did as instructed. Xoco approached with a silver blade and made an incision to both of Harry's hands; he winced but did not withdraw them as fresh blood began to dribble down his wrists. At Xoco's insistence, Harry lowered his palms to place them over two runes at either side of him. As soon as he smeared the blood over them, they began to glow bright white, the others around them slowly activating as the blood spread around him.
"Now we add the offerings of the serpent," said Xoco. He removed four scales from the pouch, handing one each to four of the gathered elders. They each walked around the circle and placed a scale at opposite corners, causing more runes to glow white.
Xoco uncorked the bottle of basilisk blood and poured it liberally all around Harry. Yet more runes began to glow, causing Harry to have to squint to adjust to the sudden brightness in the hut. Harry began to feel a tingling sensation; he wasn't sure if this was a part of the ritual or not, but he fought to remain still as little pinpricks seemed to prod him from all directions.
"Finally, the venom," said Xoco, uncorking the last vial. "You mustn't attempt to leave the circle, outsider, or you will be killed. Understood?"
Harry nodded his understanding. Xoco upended the vial, letting the thick, murky venom splash onto the runes in front of Harry. It sizzled ominously and began to spread across the runes as the last remaining symbols came to life.
The tingling sensation intensified as Harry felt his body begin to tremble from the effects of the ritual. The light from the runes was blinding, and he was forced to shut his eyes tight as the dangerous blood magic began to do its work. The blood within his veins seemed to fluctuate between intense heat and frigid cold, and Harry could feel his heart beating in an arrhythmic pattern. Was that supposed to happen…?
But he didn't have long to ponder this before sharp jolts of pain began coursing through his body, causing him to grunt in pain. It was like jolts of electricity coursed through him, fraying his nerves, causing him to twitch violently. His muscles contracted involuntarily, and Harry had the urge to curl up into a ball, to hide away from the violence swirling all around and through him…
"Do not move, outsider!" Xoco warned, as though reading his thoughts. Harry did so, trying to focus on the chanting that the elders had begun around the circle. It sounded like Parseltongue, but he could not understand any of the words or hisses they uttered. He could practically feel the magic swirling around him as his body convulsed with the worst of the ritual. He knew not how long he could last in this position; his arms and legs trembled with the effort, and he felt as though he might keel over at any moment—
A loud gasp from the corner of the room pierced him; Hermione sounded aghast at whatever was happening. Harry forced his eyes open through the blinding light, and was met with a horrifying sight. The blood and venom had risen into the air and was swirling around him in a dangerous maelstrom, creating a solid wall of liquid that spun around his body. He knew now why he must remain still: he could not imagine any good coming from making contact with such volatile liquids, especially with whatever the runes below them were doing to it.
He closed his eyes again as more terrible pain coursed through him. His nerves were on fire; the blood within his body seemed to be trying to escape his veins by any means necessary. He looked down at his palms, which were gushing freely, the escaping blood rushing up to meet the violent swirl all around him.
He could not take this much longer. He had a strong urge to run, to attempt to jump out of the circle before it consumed him from the outside. He would take his chances with the basilisk venom. He'd survived it once before, hadn't he? It was better than the slow agony he was being subjected to now. He must act. He must escape—
But his thoughts turned to Hermione, who he knew was watching on in horror at what he was putting himself through. He would never forgive himself if he perished due to his own foolishness, not after insisting upon this course of action with her. He could not abandon her in this time of need. She needed him to be strong, just as much as he needed her for support. So he gritted his teeth, prepared to let the ritual kill him.
But it did not. Slowly the pain of the ritual subsided, or at least, he grew more used to it. His muscles stopped contracting; his arms and legs ceased their quivering. Harry sat calmly in the circle, regulating his breathing, feeling his heart slow to its normal, regular pattern. He watched curiously as the swirl of blood and venom slowed, gravity returning them back to the circle of runes around him. Within a matter of minutes the magic had stilled, the runes fading and deactivating one by one, until the hut was once more lit only by a pair of torches hovering overhead.
"Very good, outsider," Xoco smiled as the elders set to work clearing the excess venom from the circle around them. "You may require a few days' rest before the side effects of the ritual pass. But the worst of it the ritual is now over."
"Brilliant," said Harry. He looked down at himself, he was covered in thick red blood, more than he could have imagined coming from himself and the small vial he'd collected from the basilisk. But it didn't bother him in the slightest. He rose carefully to his feet, stepping out of the circle towards Xoco, who healed his palms with a wave of his wand and handed back his belongings.
As soon as Harry was cleared to leave, Hermione took him by the arm and guided him forcefully towards their hut. Harry didn't even care that he was naked and covered in blood, or that the entire village continued to gawk at their every move. He felt fine – no, better than fine; he felt as though he could run many miles and fight many more basilisks in this moment. But he allowed her to steer him into the hut, where she sat him down on his cot and knelt in front of him, eyes searching his.
"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked breathlessly, casting a series of cleaning charms to clear the blood from his body. "Are you sure you aren't suffering any negative side-effects?"
"Honestly, Hermione," Harry grinned, "I feel better than ever! You worry too much."
"Legilimens," Hermione whispered; her eyes flashed, and suddenly Harry felt her magic brush up against his own, probing his mind. He invited her in, not breaking eye contact, wanting to prove to her how strong he felt, how much better the ritual had made him.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly. "I can see the Dark magic imprinted on your mind. You heard what Krum said; it's dangerous to let it consume you. It can threaten your sanity—"
"I'm not letting it consume me, Hermione!" Harry laughed. "I'm consuming it. I know what I've gotten myself into; I won't let it break me."
Harry could not tear his eyes away from Hermione's; she had released her magic, but continued to study his face, probing, questioning. Harry felt as though he saw her more clearly than ever before. He'd never appreciated before just how much she cared for him, and how much he cared for her in return. And he wanted nothing more than to show it to her.
"I still don't like this," she pouted, her lower lip trembling as she frowned up at him. "I just don't want you to lose yourself—"
Harry interrupted her with a kiss, capturing her lips with his own. Hermione stiffened in surprise, but reciprocated in kind, leaning into him and responding with passion and desire of her own. Harry leaned back to allow her room on the cot, and she straddled his legs, pinning him to the bed, kissing him like she never had before. Harry's mind burned brighter than even the ritual had done to him, Hermione's touch like a wildfire against his skin, and he wanted more; he couldn't get enough of her…
Hermione pulled back for a moment, breaking off their kiss to look into Harry's eyes. Harry's heart sank, believing that she was having second thoughts, that she was afraid to take the next step. But the look in her eyes was not one of fear or regret. She looked upon him hungrily, pinning him down with just her stare, with a look Harry had never seen before. Not a word was spoken between them for one shivering second. But it didn't need to be said: they both knew what the other was thinking. And they each wanted the exact same thing.
Then they were entwined together once more, hands pawing at each other, scrabbling to remove clothes, both desperate in their desire to become one, to dissolve the final barriers between them, to consummate the love they felt burning within them at long last…
