Chapter 17. Following the Butterfly
After all the students had gone to their dormitories for the night, Harry and Ron stayed in the Great Hall, drinking with Professors Flitwick, Hagrid, McGonagall and others. Whether it was his age or his drunkenness, Harry burst out laughing the third time he heard Professor Flitwick joke about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun meeting in a bar.
"Honestly, Professor Flitwick — I wasn't that good at Charms, was I?" said Ron. His cheeks were red with drink as he asked.
"Certainly not, Ron." Flitwick nodded solemnly. "At first I thought it had something to do with your broken wand. . . . But it turned out that wasn't the case."
Hearing his honest confession, everyone burst out into laughter.
"It's late," McGonagall said with a grin. "I should try to get some sleep. . . . Feels like I'm getting older by the day."
"Wha' are yeh talkin' abou', Professor? Yeh — me — we're still at a promisin' age!" Hagrid drank the remaining beer from his bucket-sized pewter tankard to prove his point. Harry checked the time and noticed that the meeting was taking longer than expected.
"I think we should leave as well. We had a nice time, thanks to you all."
"Harry, you never have to thank us," said McGonagall. "I cannot express my gratitude enough on behalf of Hogwarts."
Having said goodbye to the professors, Harry and Ron walked out of the castle and onto the school grounds. The still night air was cool and the sky was cloudy and dark.
"Do we really have to go to Hogsmeade and Disapparate, Harry?" said Ron wearily. "Come to think of it, there are fireplaces at Hogwarts. . . . Why don't we use the Floo Network?"
"At our age, you should walk whenever you can," snapped Harry. "We'll need more than that to digest what we ate today."
Harry was about to leave the school gates with a grumbling Ron when he was confronted by an unexpected creature: A butterfly. Unlike its usual relatives, the golden butterfly glowed in the dark, surrounded by blinding light. For a moment, Harry and Ron watched the butterfly's gentle, beautiful flutter; it was so bright that it could have been mistaken for a Patronus.
"Have you ever seen anything like that, Harry?" whispered Ron, trying not to provoke the creature.
"No, I haven't."
"It must be very valuable," said Ron longingly, "I wonder if it's real gold . . ."
"Don't even think about it," snapped Harry. "You know how much Hagrid cares about these magical creatures."
Their eyes were drawn to the butterfly, even when they were talking; now it was dancing around the high wrought-iron gates. When Ron reached out to catch it, the butterfly easily escaped his grasp and flew off toward the Hogwarts Castle instead.
"I think it's taking us somewhere," Harry murmured, and surprisingly, the butterfly moved up and down as if nodding. Then it flew back across the grounds to the castle.
"D'you reckon we should follow it?" said Ron, looking concerned. "Could it just be some brat's trick?"
"It seems too advanced for students to cast such a spell," Harry said, watching the butterfly fly away. "Let's follow it — looks harmless to me."
"If you say so, mate. . . . Well, we followed the spiders together once, didn't we? Better butterflies than spiders."
Following the golden butterfly, which stopped at regular intervals, they walked up the stone stairs and through the double oak doors. The mysterious creature was already fluttering in the light of the torches on the stairs. Harry and Ron carefully made their way up the staircase, following the butterfly's golden light, careful not to fall into the trick step. The butterfly changed direction and followed the dim hallway as it reached the second floor.
"Wait! I think I know where it's going," Ron exclaimed, staring suspiciously at the retreating butterfly. "Myrtle's bathroom is on this floor. . . . Was all this planned by her?"
"Ghosts never use magic, as far as I know," said Harry skeptically, watching the butterfly as it continued to fly toward the abandoned girls' bathroom.
"Moaning Myrtle could have hired a ghost butterfly; maybe she missed you terribly."
Harry walked on, thinking it would be better if Ron was right. Under the toilet, there had been something older and more terrifying than Moaning Myrtle. . . . Harry's greatest fear was realized when he opened the door and entered the bathroom. Instead of the sink in the middle, there was a large water pipe that could hold a person: The Chamber of Secrets was open once again. They stared at the butterfly in awe for a moment before it disappeared under the hollow pipe.
"Myrtle? Are you here?" called Harry, not taking his eyes off the pipe. There was no response to his loud voice in the bathroom; his desire to see Moaning Myrtle had never been greater. "Someone must have flushed her toilet and dumped her in the lake. . . . It happens sometimes, Myrtle once said."
"We can't find out what happened without her," Ron said in a hushed, worried voice. "Should we ask for help?"
"There's no need — I'm thinking of going down there myself," said Harry quietly. Ron's eyes widened.
"What? Are you mental? It's surely a trap!"
"Eisenbein must be waiting down there — I know it," said Harry. "If Voldemort was indeed well known to him, then so is the Chamber of Secrets."
"And you're still going down there? That's madness!" exclaimed Ron. "Or have you had too much firewhisky?"
"No, my mind is clear. By setting a trap, he must be trying to hurt people close to me. By holding someone hostage, he may ask me for the Hallows." Harry pulled the Elder Wand out of his pocket. "I'd rather face him alone. Besides, I have the unbeatable wand — I can surely defeat Eisenbein."
Harry grabbed the edge as he prepared to enter the pipe. Looking into the endless darkness below him, he wondered if this was the right decision. Then it occurred to him that Barty Crouch had died while Harry was trying to summon Dumbledore's help. He let go of the two hands holding the entrance, determined not to make the same mistake again. Now was the time to act, not think.
He felt the slippery and cold inner wall rub against his skin as he rapidly descended into the underground. Occasionally the pipe twisted and turned, taking him deeper and deeper. Finally, the water pipe leveled off and he fell to the damp floor, just as he was wondering how long it would take. A thudding sound came from behind him and he turned to see Ron coming down the pipe with his arms outstretched.
"Ron! Why did you come?"
Ron was lying on the floor with white slime all over his body and Harry pulled him up.
"Did you really think I'd send you alone?" grinned Ron as he waved his wand against his robes. Hot air blew from its tip, brushing away the slimy mass. "Brings back memories, doesn't it? We've been down here before."
"True, and our skills have improved incomparably since then," Harry pointed at Ron's wand and went on, "Besides, your wand works just fine, unlike then."
Harry and Ron used the light from the tips of their wands to make their way through the tunnel. Their shadows were the only things moving in the dim blue light, and their footsteps echoing through the tunnel were the only sounds. The wet floor was littered with old bones of small animals, yellowed and crumbling like crackers when stepped on. The path was blocked by a pile of rocks from the collapsed ceiling as they exited the curved section of the tunnel.
"Hey, there's the hole I made back there." Ron pointed to the large gap in the large pile of rubble. "Do you think we can still get through?"
"I'll try."
Harry crawled into the narrow gap and squeezed in. Even though he had grown a lot since he was a child, he was still able to make it out the other side. Ron followed him out of the hole as well, and the light from their wands illuminated the skin of a giant snake as they turned. Seeing it again made Ron shiver a little.
"There can't be another basilisk, can there?" whispered Ron.
"No way — apart from the last one being dead, it has been many years since Slytherin's heir died," said Harry confidently. Harry touched the dried skin with his foot and it fell to the ground like a deflated balloon.
"Now, however, a mysterious man claims to be the successor of Slytherin's heir," Ron said, looking away from the basilisk skin. "Isn't it strange how Dark wizards keep popping up?"
"That's my point."
Ron unconsciously raised his head after passing the giant snake skin and exclaimed, "Huh? What do you think that is, Harry?"
From the ceiling, Harry saw beautiful twinkling lights hanging in the direction Ron was pointing. Gradually, the lights began to move, giving the appearance of enlarged Christmas tree lights. He held up his wand to illuminate the ceiling, revealing dozens of golden butterflies adorning it.
"They may attack us — be careful," said Harry, alert. Ron, however, showed no signs of nerves.
"They're just butterflies, mate — you sound like you're looking at some creepy spiders. . . . I've never seen such beautiful things before."
"And when you see something for the first time, Ron, it tends to be dangerous." In response to Harry's words, Ron looked up at the ceiling again, this time with some trepidation. At that moment, a rustling sound came from the front of the tunnel.
"Oppugno!" came a sharp cry from the darkness ahead. The two were instantly obscured by golden butterflies that rained down like hail. Harry instinctively wrapped himself in a magical barrier, blocking the butterflies' path.
"AARRRGH! GERREMOFFME!" shouted Ron from close by.
"Ron! Hang on!"
Harry threw flames and blew strong winds to drive the swarm of butterflies away in a desperate attempt to save his friend. The intense glare from the butterflies blinded his eyes, making it difficult to see anything around him. Harry's outstretched hand finally reached Ron, who had fallen to the ground. The butterflies swarmed through the crack in the stone pile they had just passed, and soon all of them were gone. The tunnel went dark again, and Ron, lying and groaning, disappeared from his view.
"Lumos!" Harry ignited his wand again and knelt beside his wounded friend. Under the hem of his robes, he could see Ron's red, swollen ankles. "Can you hear me, Ron?"
"Did I just call them butterflies? Wasps, more like!" said Ron weakly, moaning in pain.
The bandages spun up the wound as Harry tapped Ron's badly stung leg with his wand and muttered, "Ferula."
Ron grabbed Harry's hand and tried to stand up, but he slumped back down.
"Did you hear that, Harry? There was someone in the tunnel," Ron said, staring into the darkness.
"I heard that, yes. Wait here for me — I'm going to confront him."
"Okay then." Ron's eyes began to droop and he began to lose consciousness. Ron's forehead and the corners of his eyes began to swell; the butterflies must have stung them as well. "Good luck, mate . . ."
Harry pinned the stunned Ron against a wall and placed protective enchantments around him. With Ron safely out of harm's way, Harry walked alone through the winding tunnel. He held his own wand in the left hand, its tip lit, and the Elder Wand in the right, always keeping an eye out ahead. Except when he stepped on the shallow puddles on the floor, there was nothing but silence. Past the last bend in the tunnel, a solid wall appeared, opening on either side to reveal a hollow in the center. The Chamber of Secrets was indeed open yet again.
"Eisenbein! You can't hide forever!" Harry shouted as he entered the chamber. To the left and right of the very long room were large stone columns carved with entwined serpents. They were dimly lit by a greenish gloom whose source was unknown. Every time Harry passed the long, black shadows that crossed the floor, he looked around to see if anyone was lurking behind the darkness. He had to dodge a huge basilisk corpse in the middle of the room, nothing but bones.
Between the bones and the serpentine pillars to his left and right, Harry searched for his enemy. Eisenbein, however, was not hiding. It was only when Harry had almost reached the black wall opposite the entrance, past the last pair of columns, that the statue of Salazar Slytherin came into view. Its immense size reached almost to the ceiling, and on its huge right foot sat a shadowy figure clad in a dark silver-gray clothes. Two faintly shining iron legs were visible beneath the familiar-looking cloak. With his own wand in his pocket, Harry approached slowly, pointing the Elder Wand at the intruder. Eisenbein finally raised his head and looked straight at Harry. His face was obscured by a mist under the hood that covered his head.
"So we face each other at last, Harry," said Eisenbein. His lack of tone and the mix of mechanical noises made him sound like he was speaking from a smartphone. As he stood up and jumped off Slytherin's stone foot, the metal joints of his legs emitted puffs of steam that produced small whistling sounds. "In a room suitable for secret conversations, that is. . . . Long have I waited for this moment."
"You and I have nothing to discuss!" Harry blurted out. His anger erupted the moment he saw his Invisibility Cloak in the hands of his enemy. "You're just a petty thief, no matter how you choose to present yourself. . . . As soon as I get my Invisibility Cloak back, I'll figure out how to get rid of you."
"Ah, so you mean this is yours?" Eisenbein grabbed the hem of his cloak and stared at it as if he had just realized what he was wearing. "But am I invisible to you? Doesn't seem so to me."
With the tip of his wand pointed at Eisenbein, Harry watched him take a few steps into the light. A pair of metal feet slammed into the stone floor with a clunking sound. Eisenbein's smoky face seemed to take on human form as he stood in the light.
Harry stared into the hood to see his face. A ray of light illuminated the boy's youthful face, making it appear ghostly. Under the next ray of light, Eisenbein's face reappeared as Harry narrowed his eyes, doubting what he had just seen. This time, however, Harry saw an old man with wrinkles on his smoky face before it disappeared. Trying to remember the two different faces he had just seen, Harry wondered if he had ever seen anyone like them before, but no one came to mind.
"You must have cast some kind of Dark Magic on the cloak," Harry said as Eisenbein stopped about ten paces away. "Don't treat me like a fool. This is my Cloak of Invisibility, inherited from my own father."
"You only call it that because you have no idea what this cloak really does, Harry . . ."
He reached out his silver hand and pulled back the hood that covered his face, and Harry took a deep breath. Eisenbein's face, which had shimmered like smoke under the hood, disappeared as soon as it came into direct contact with the light. Harry stared in awe at the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin, seen through the transparent head that revealed the background behind it.
"This Cloak is a Deathly Hallow — it does more than just make you invisible." He grabbed the hood and put it back on, and a smoky face reappeared in the shadows. "Wearing this Cloak makes things that belong to beings appear to belong to nonbeings, and vice versa. . . . Do you think you have the right to claim it without knowing its basic properties?"
Harry regained his voice after a few seconds of shock.
"In that warehouse back then, you could hide yourself quite well this way. . . . Once you remove the Cloak, you become completely transparent."
"Exactly — the opposite of what it does to you. I wear this Cloak to reveal myself, not to hide," said Eisenbein softly. "It makes more sense for me to use it than for you, doesn't it?"
"No, it does not — look at your past actions. Your sudden emergence has divided our world, you've stolen Ministry property and spread hatred," Harry said, his anger boiling inside him. The Elder Wand in his hand seemed to sympathize with his feelings, burning hot and vibrating subtly. "You'd've been better off hiding, whoever you are."
"There is no way you know me. Yet I'm sure you've heard of me and what I've done . . . before I got my current name."
"What's with your ridiculous German name anyway?" Harry tried to provoke his opponent — if Eisenbein let his guard down, he would attack him immediately. "You must have stayed in Germany if you're from there and let us be."
"Ah, Harry — I'm an Englishman, the same as you."
Leaving Harry behind, Eisenbein walked straight ahead, standing in front of the basilisk's bones as though he didn't care. Harry did not attack and followed slowly, closing the distance; he knew how quickly Eisenbein could draw his wand from the confrontation in Bulgaria.
"Voldemort was from England like us, but he named himself in French, didn't he? Sometimes you need an exotic name to present yourself as a dangerous Dark wizard . . ."
"I don't think you ever met Voldemort. We would have known sooner if he had such a close associate," said Harry. "To me, your very existence is a lie."
"The same goes for you, Harry. Then again, a lie can be quite harmless until the liar himself is deceived." Eisenbein stared at the basilisk's skull, its mouth gaping and several sharp teeth removed. "Interestingly, this is where one of those false myths originated. It was under that statue that Tom Marvolo Riddle spent a great deal of time. Yes, this secret chamber was where the poor orphan created his new name. . . . Tom would float his given name and rearrange it over and over again, trying to decide if it sounded nice."
"You're lying! Voldemort never had a close friend to share such a scene with!" shouted Harry. Then Eisenbein tapped the basilisk's bone behind its back, making a hollow sound.
"That's a terrible thing to say — Basily here could get hurt by that. . . . I remember the very moment Tom came up with his new name. Basily was nodding off right here, while I was sitting under this pillar killing time . . . then Tom came running at us from over there, splashing water everywhere."
Eisenbein pointed in the direction of the Slytherin's enormous statue.
"I didn't expect much, since Tom had already discarded many of his new made-up names. However, this time it seemed to have worked — his face was full of joy as he repeated the name Voldemort. 'I am Lord Voldemort!' Tom exclaimed excitedly in front of us. 'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! All the letters of my name are included!' It's true, that had been Tom's main concern . . . to create a new name without losing a letter. He was trying to be reborn while keeping his past intact and whole. As Basily danced with closed eyes and I clapped in celebration, Tom laughed heartily — for the first and last time, that is . . ."
"Is this the way you've been fooling Crabbe and his minions?" said Harry coolly. "Pretending to be close to Voldemort. . . . Based on the information you gathered from various sources, you convinced the former Death Eaters that the Dark Lord was your best friend."
"Not at all — I'm just telling you what I saw." Eisenbein gently stroked the basilisk bone he was leaning against. "It was a pity that Tom never let anyone speak of such a hardly chosen name. That's probably because it wasn't pronounced the way he wanted it, I suppose. . . . The 't' at the end was not supposed to be sounded, so you should have called him Vol-de-morrrrr —"
"Just shut up, Eisenbein. The only people who would believe that crap are your stupid followers," said Harry sharply. "Now I'm going to get my Cloak back — fight me or surrender."
"Funny, I'm also here to reclaim what's rightfully mine." As Eisenbein emerged from the remains of the giant snake, his silver hand already held a wand aimed at Harry. "The Elder Wand in your hand, Harry — it is mine."
Harry and Eisenbein moved sideways in a circle as they remained facing each other. Speechless at his opponent's outrageous remarks, Harry finally opened his mouth.
"Here's another lie from you."
"Do you really mean that? You want me to swear 'I must not tell lies' like you have on your hand?" Hearing Eisenbein's provoking words, Harry felt a tingling sensation on the back of his right hand. "Or would you listen to me and hand over the wand without hurting each other?"
"Stupefy!"
Finally, Harry couldn't stand it any longer and cast the spell. A beam of red light shot from the Elder Wand, brighter and more intense than the other wands. Harry's vision was momentarily obscured as Eisenbein raised his wand to block it. Eisenbein was already behind the basilisk bones when the black smoke cleared. He swung his wand at the large bones — the dead basilisk twisted as if it were coming to life, made a creaking sound as it wriggled like a snake, and turned its empty eyeballs at Harry.
"Reducto!"
Harry's Reductor Curse caused the charging skeletal basilisk to split in the air, the impact shattering and scattering bone fragments of all sizes. As if it could feel the pain, the bony basilisk shook its massive skull with strange creaking noises.
"You're determined to kill poor Basily for the second time, aren't you?" said Eisenbein, standing right next to the basilisk. "If that's the case, Harry, avoid it at all costs. There's no cure for being bitten this time . . ."
A loud click accompanied the swing of Eisenbein's wand, and the skull of the basilisk was ripped from its neck. Then the skeletal head lunged at Harry, who narrowly avoided the long, sharp fangs that were about to bite him.
"REDUCTO!"
Harry's curse shattered the basilisk's skull into many small pieces, and dust from broken bones and smoke spread throughout the chamber. Harry gasped in shock as he saw dozens of fangs floating in the air, slowly rotating toward him.
"Oppugno!" shouted Eisenbein. A series of deadly darts flew toward Harry, each one powerful enough to destroy a Horcrux.
"Fianto Duri!" cried Harry, just before he was pierced by the deadly projectiles. In an instant, a thin blue film formed in front of his body, and the long fangs disintegrated into fine bone powder.
With no time to catch his breath, Harry turned to Eisenbein, pointed his wand, and flicked it. Like magnets, small puddles scattered throughout the chamber gathered into a mass and rushed toward Eisenbein. The water enveloped him like a cocoon, and he floated in midair. With all his energy and focus, Harry lifted the sphere of water around him higher and higher. Even Voldemort had failed to escape on his own when Dumbledore had cast this spell on him. Harry's victory was guaranteed if Eisenbein was suffocated or stunned in the water. . . .
Then a flame began to rise from Eisenbein, surrounded by swirling water, and spread within his sphere. The water boiled and evaporated as it met the fire, and Eisenbein fell to the ground unbound. A metallic sound echoed throughout the room as his steel feet hit the ground.
"It seems you've learned a lot from your headmaster, Harry. . . . You just created a magic sphere that Dumbledore was fond of."
"Oh, so now you brag about knowing Dumbledore too?" said Harry sarcastically.
"Let's leave it at that for now. It was actually Dumbledore who cursed me into this spectral presence . . ."
"You're lying! Professor Dumbledore would never have done such a thing!"
"Are you sure, Harry? Are you really that familiar with Dumbledore and his secrets?" said Eisenbein curiously. "Neither when he was alive nor after he died did you really know anything about him. . . . How can you still deny it when I'm right here, cursed by Dumbledore and unable to live or die? There are things far worse than death, he used to say — and I am the best proof of that."
"Dumbledore did have a secret side to him when he was alive. Still, he didn't set out to kill anyone," said Harry. "I have no idea what curse made you this way, but Dumbledore wouldn't have harmed anyone with anything worse than the Killing Curse."
"It is the fourth of the Unforgivable Curses that has eaten away at my very being," said Eisenbein softly. "You seem to be completely unaware of this, judging by the look on your face. There is no doubt that the Fourth Curse has been all but forgotten, and few even know of its existence . . . of course, there can be no countercurse. But I will be released from the world of nonbeing once I have all the Deathly Hallows . . and nothing will stop me from achieving my intentions once that happens."
"You wish to destroy all Muggles!" Harry shouted in anger. "You're a rotten bastard, Eisenbein. You'll never get the Deathly Hallows, and instead you'll be defeated by one of them — by my Elder Wand."
"You heard me — the wand is no longer yours," said Eisenbein quietly. They circled each other on the stone floor covered with broken bones. "Do you remember what happened in the Bulgarian hotel? Vasily Dimitrov took your wand by surprise when you two met in the kitchen . . ."
Harry's heart froze when he heard those words — he remembered that something like that had happened in the kitchen. But how did Eisenbein know about it?
"Dimitrov was Stunned by Teddy Lupin, and Victor Krum Disarmed him shortly after. So Krum got the allegiance of the Elder Wand for a while because of that ridiculous wandlore thing." Eisenbein took a step closer, narrowing the diameter of their circle, and said, "Until I knocked Krum out, that is. . . . The Elder Wand is mine now, Harry."
Harry could not argue. The events of the past few days in Bulgaria flashed before his eyes. Could Eisenbein have dropped a pot in the kitchen and surprised everyone, causing them to turn on each other? Could he have Stunned the hotel's staff and slipped in to do it? If that was the case, Harry had walked into an extremely intricate trap. . . .
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Eisenbein.
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry instinctively shouted the same spell, but the Elder Wand betrayed him at the crucial moment, choosing instead to help its true master. Harry's hand was suddenly yanked away just before the wand cast the Disarming Charm, causing it to point in the wrong direction. As Harry saw the flash of red light shot by him miss his target's head by inches, Eisenbein's spell struck him in the chest; his silver hand caught the Elder Wand as it flew out of Harry's grasp, leaving him helpless.
"You thought you'd never be defeated until you died, didn't you?" said Eisenbein, carefully examining the curved surface of the Elder Wand he had taken. "In the end, the Boy Who Lived was deceived by his own myth, which was full of so many lies. . . . It was your own pride that defeated you, Harry."
In his silver hand, the Elder Wand shot a blinding flash of red light. A split second later, Harry whipped out his Phoenix wand and conjured a silver shield, but the crimson flash from the world's most dangerous wand tore through it like thin paper. His consciousness was seized by black hands from all sides as he fell back under the spell. Harry caught a glimpse of Eisenbein's black figure walking out of the Chamber of Secrets just before his eyes finally stopped working.