lxxxix. wit beyond measure
Harriet stared into the blank, empty eyes of Luna Lovegood and nearly screamed.
She hung before the Moon Mirror like a puppet with slack strings, her feet flat on the floor, her shoulders sagging, blonde head lolling on its skinny neck. She wore the same tiara Harriet had seen in Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait; the blue and white gems glinted like animal eyes in the night, all arrayed around the sweeping silver wings of the metal eagle, the band sitting snug above Luna's slack brow.
Someone walked into view and, before she thought better of it, Harriet asked, "Professor Slytherin?"
But no, it wasn't. It couldn't be; the wizard before her rose a bit taller in height, his shoulders a touch broader, more grown than her Defense instructor, dressed in plain black robes. He was also paler, his hair like ink dripping and curling over his forehead and around his jaw and ears, his profile vaguely avian in appearance, the angles of it harsher and more pronounced than Professor Slytherin's—though the stranger did have the same glaring, bright red eyes.
Those eyes focused on Harriet, his mouth curving into a grin too sharp and cold on his otherwise handsome face. He looked everything and yet nothing like Professor Slytherin.
"Intriguing," the wizard said as he looked Harriet over, gaze lingering on Livi longer than the girl herself. He had a book in his hands, and he dropped it without a care, kicking the thing away. "Another Parselmouth? Whose illegitimate spawn are you? Gaunt or Slytherin's?"
Ignoring him, Harriet demanded, "What have you done to Luna?!"
"No, too old to be one of theirs. Intriguing indeed," he continued, ignoring her in turn. He took a step forward and Livius chimed again, a low hiss building in the serpent that sank down into Harriet's bones. "A clever little witch, aren't you? What is your name?"
Harriet said nothing.
Sneering, the wizard turned to Luna and grabbed her roughly by the chin, tilting the girl's head back so he could stare into her vacuous eyes.
"What are you doing?! Get away from her!"
"Hmm. Harriet Potter." He let go of Luna, disregarding her, and looked to Harriet. He smiled again.
"H-How—?" Had Luna told him her name? Did he just—did he read Luna's mind?!
The wizard began to pace, slow and methodical, like a lion in its cage waiting for dinner to be served. Where he crossed the thicker bands of light passing through the windows, his outline seemed to glimmer or glint, like sunlight reflecting inside a crystal, sparking bright, colorful flares. The floor could be seen through his legs if he moved too quickly. "How are you liking the Aerie, Harriet? I'm surprised a student managed to find it, let alone have the ability to open the passage. Rowena's archive has nothing on my ancestor's Chamber, but it does have its own quaint charm."
My ancestor.
"You're the Heir," Harriet stated.
"Brava, girl. Of course, I'm the Heir. Perhaps you're not so clever after all." He circled Luna, never straying far, and Luna remained immobile just a hand's breadth from his reach.
"What have you done to Luna? Let—let me take her," Harriet tried to bargain, licking her dry lips, breath shuddering in and out of her lungs. Livi chimed. "Let me take her, and I won't—won't tell anyone about you. I'm a Slytherin. I think you're—you're doing great work!"
"Liar," the Heir hissed before he laughed. "I'm afraid Luna won't be going anywhere. Not until I'm finished with her. She's been a great help to me, even if her annoying friend proved a nuisance. Nothing an Imperius or two couldn't handle." He leaned forward to brush his forefinger against the tiara's band. "Her soul belongs to me now, you see. Do you know what this is?"
"No, but—."
"I thought not. Ignorant thing you are. It's Rowena Ravenclaw's lost Diadem—only, it's not quite as lost as people believe, hmm? It's an interesting trinket, one a curious, naive little first-year wouldn't be able to resist putting on." He circled behind Luna and framed his hands around the witch's head. "Oh, she tried to resist, but when I kept whispering all the answers to every question her dense brain could imagine, Luna soon couldn't bring herself to take it off. I'd waited so long. I was too weak to form myself like the others, but being trapped in the Diadem has its perks, you see, one of which is learning the stored knowledge of the Aerie itself—a place neither Slytherin nor Gaunt nor Albus Dumbledore himself knows anything about."
Touch not the diadem, the Founder had said. For it has been despoiled by craeft most malicious. Harriet didn't know where the Heir had come from, why he'd targeted Luna or how he'd come to be trapped in Rowena's Diadem—but the more she watched him, the more it became apparent he had a connection to the thing. Was he killing Luna? Draining her? Harriet needed to get the Diadem off of the younger witch and get out of there!
"You've been framing Professor Slytherin all year. Why?" Harriet inquired in a bid for time. How was she supposed to get the Diadem off with the Heir hovering so close? Harriet regretted never learning a spell to yank hats off of a person's head.
"A means to an end, I assure you. A mutual acquaintance assisted me in finding a new body—." He drew a finger down his not quite corporeal chest. "And in exchange, I make a small spot of trouble for poor Professor Slytherin and Dumbledore."
"Headmaster Dumbledore will stop you."
The Heir snorted, pale nostrils flaring with suppressed rage. "Dumbledore can't stop anything. He is an impotent old wretch, little girl, and the sooner you realize the new order of things, the better." He tilted his head. "Though whether or not you survive our encounter depends on you."
"Depends on what?"
"Whether or not you're prepared to serve your new Lord."
A shiver of dread went through Harriet, and her eyes widened. Oh, no. No, no, no…it can't be. "…Lord?"
The Heir smiled—a slow, sickening stretch of red lips baring white teeth, his gums pale and his eyeteeth long like fangs. "You haven't asked my name, little Harriet. How rude."
Harriet swallowed and shook her head, as if denying him the question would change the reality of her situation.
"Oh, come now, don't be coy. I said, ask me my name."
He tore the words from Harriet against her will. "What's your name?" She slapped her hand over her mouth, breathing hard.
Again, the Heir simpered and grinned, and when he raised his arm, Harriet saw Luna's wand clasped in his long, delicate fingers. "Flagrate," he incanted. The end of the wand lit up, and as he began to spell fiery letters in the air, he kept talking. "Tell me; your parents were killed by the greatest Dark wizard who ever lived, were they not? Our Luna here always found that an interesting, if often disregarded, fact of history. You were 'overlooked.'" He stopped writing, the words 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE' suspended between him and Harriet. "Only, he never overlooks anything. Never. So tell me, Harriet Potter, how did you survive?"
He flexed his white hands and the letters moved at his command, the fiery light glaring in his red eyes, burning like embers right out of the pits of Hell, the words coming together before the letters fully settled—.
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
No, no—not again!
"Relashio!" Harriet shouted, flinging the jinx toward Luna's head, but the Heir—Riddle, Voldemort—was faster, a silent shield catching her spell with a slight flick of his arm and a flutter of black cloth.
"Incarcerous."
"Protego!" Thin, gray cords whipped against Harriet's own shield and dissipated. She lunged forward without hesitation. "Expelliarmus!"
Again, Riddle simply swatted the spell aside. He laughed—a high, cold sound. "Child's play!"
A streak of blue light soared toward Harriet, and the words Snape spoke so many months ago in the dark of the dungeons came back to her. "Dodge spells colored green, blue, indigo, or violet. They will be more difficult, or impossible, to counter." So Harriet dodged; she flung herself to the side and scrambled behind a pillar, clutching Livius close as the serpent writhed and tried to get free. She was terrified Riddle would kill him. She was terrified he'd kill her.
"Hiding already, little Harriet? My, I didn't think I was such a bad host. You haven't even seen the best part!"
With her back pressed to the pillar, Harriet peered around the side, Livi still struggling. Riddle rounded on Luna, pushing her away, and he came to the Moon Mirror, touching its solid surface. Harriet fired a jinx at his back—but he saw it coming in the glass and deflected it with ease, the red light flying back at her with speed. Harriet ducked and heard the resulting crack! of the spell striking stone.
"Hear me, Salazar's chosen!" Riddle bellowed into the mirror. "Hear me and come, for I have opened the way!"
He whipped back—and the glass began to ripple, curdling, something coming near. Harriet threw herself upright and ran for the corridor.
"Offendimus!"
The Tripping Jinx caught her by the ankles, and Harriet went down, smacking her chin, driving her teeth into her tongue.
"Where are you going, Harriet? Why, you've come all this way, and haven't met my pet!"
She heard the Basilisk when it arrived: the thump of coils against the floor, the great, rattling inhale of lungs far, far larger than her own, its susserations joining in with Riddle's amused chuckling. Harriet slammed her eyes shut and clung to the first pillar she found. Copper flooded her mouth, chin stinging, her hand so tight upon her wand she feared it might snap in two. Livi jerked, and then—.
"No!" she cried at the Horned Serpent as he pulled from her body. Harriet opened her eyes on instinct, but her familiar had already gone invisible, and when she spied the looming shadow, the faint sheen of oily green scales, she squeezed her eyes shut again.
"Massster callsss for usss," the Basilisk hissed. "Massster needsss usss."
"A plaything for you," Riddle told the creature, and Harriet didn't need to see to know he gestured at her. "Have fun."
The Basilisk crooned in affirmation and dragged its weight nearer where Harriet trembled blind and horrified. "Wait!" she yelled. What could she do? What could she say? Could she turn the Basilisk against the Heir? She didn't know enough bloody magic for this. "Wait! Your master is a fake! He's a fake!"
"The Massster isss everything," it answered, still moving. "The Massster isss with usss! Hungry, ssso hungry!"
Its voice roiled in Harriet's brain, hot and sticky and feverish, the edges of it curling in upon itself like milk left too long to boil in the pot. Something was wrong. It sounded ill, almost incomprehensible. "This isn't your purpose! This isn't what Salazar Slytherin would have wanted!"
"Give it up, Potter," Riddle called from his place by Luna's side. "The beast's mind rotted centuries ago! It only heeds my commands!"
The Basilisk loomed, its hissing thunderous, and as it reared overhead—.
"Protego Tria!" Harriet cried, jabbing her wand upward. The magic pulled through her with visceral force as she summoned the strongest shield she knew, and the snake collided with it, driving the air from Harriet's lungs. She skidded across the stones, rolling, and the snake came again, snarling. "Protego Tria!"
The second blow proved almost too much for Harriet's strength, throwing her far enough for her side to collide with another pillar. Something snapped and Harriet gasped at the resulting pain, the blackness inside her eyelids pulsing with red. She crumpled at the pillar's base.
"Pathetic."
Grunting, Harriet prepared herself to cast another shield, knowing the Basilisk surrounded her, its presence pressing closer and closer, the pillars groaning against the squeezing hold of its coils. I'm going to die here, Harriet realized. The thought wasn't as terrifying as she would have expected. Harriet didn't fear death so much as what would come after, what would happen to her friends, to her school, to Luna, and the Wizarding world. She hadn't known it, but maybe Harriet had made her peace with death a long time ago, somewhere in the dark of a stuffy cupboard, hungry and tired and unloved, unwanted. Living was often a lot scarier than the thought of dying.
Something brushed her arm. "It will not touch the Missstresss!" Livi snarled. Next came a harsh, guttural rasp as he spat at the monster—and the Basilisk shrieked.
Stone crunched and ground against itself as the Basilisk writhed and a column fell, crashing into the floor, bits of rock pelting Harriet as she threw her arms over her head.
"No!" Riddle shouted, but Harriet couldn't spare a moment for his objection; the Basilisk's tail whipped out and struck her side, flinging Harriet across the room once more. Sputtering for breath, she surged upright and risked a quick peek through her lashes.
Her glasses remained on, kept steady by a nifty Charm found by Hermione for Quidditch. The Basilisk did, in fact, surround her, having wound itself up in the colonnade to compensate for its length—every long, spiny foot of it twitching and twisting, the stones groaning, the floor shaking and jumping underfoot as it hissed and cried and sputtered half-formed curses. Harriet chanced a look at its horrid, eel-like head, her knees almost buckling at the sight of its teeth flashing like curved rapiers, but what caught her attention was the clear, viscous liquid popping and sizzling, dripping along the contours of its skull, joined by thin rivulets of pink blood.
Livi's venom. He spat venom into its eyes!
Harriet sucked in a breath. "Livius!"
She ran, and either the Basilisk heard or felt or smelled her coming because it jerked its head about with an infuriated hiss and lunged for the Horned Serpent laying curled up and crumpled at the base of a chipped pillar. "Protego Serpens!"
The monster bounced off the vaporous shield that formed over Livi, jostling more venom into the bloody ruin of its eyes. It shook itself, and Harriet felt it splatter against her skin, a fine, burning mist peppering her hands as she reached out for her familiar—.
"How dare you?! CRUCIO!"
Recoiling, having forgotten Riddle in the heat of the moment, Harriet thrust her wand forward, gasping, "Protego!" yet again. The red blast streaked toward her with all the speed of a lightning bolt, but her shield did nothing to stop it. It sank right through the Charm without resistance, and Harriet didn't have a chance to be confused about that before she was screaming, the world disappearing into a red-hot tangle of sheer, inexplicable agony that burst into existence faster than an exploding firecracker. It ended just as suddenly as it began, and Harriet came back to herself wheezing and sobbing, collapsed over Livi's prone form.
Riddle's laughter seemed to echo and resound from all corners of the atrium, burning worse than the venom pockmarking Harriet's arms, or the trembling, searing ache in her joints, or the piercing throb of a bone broken somewhere in her left arm. "Did you like that, little girl?" Riddle crowed—and Harriet fired another worthless Disarming Charm at him. He deflected it into a window and shattered the glass. "Oh, I think you did enjoy it. Your worm blinded my Basilisk, so I think it's only fair I return the favor!"
He raised his wand again, and Harriet braced herself for the blow—for the pain or for death, every spell she'd ever learned seeming to leak out of her ears like meaningless goo, her wand just an ineffective stick clasped in numb, frozen fingers. She could hardly see Riddle through the haze of her tears, his body silhouetted against the brighter windows—but she saw that arm lift, and Harriet refused to close her eyes.
"Crucio!"
"Protego Horribilis!"
A silvery, paper-thin aegis flashed in front of Harriet, catching and absorbing the oncoming curse. Harriet breathed and turned her head, because she hadn't been the one to speak that spell. No, it had been the idiot now standing at the entrance of the atrium gaping at the hulking serpent and the Heir of Slytherin himself.
It was Neville fucking Longbottom.
A/N: Someone asked if Luna was foreshadowed; she is, a bit. It's subtle. Most of her "odd behavior" is just brushed off as Luna being Luna. Readers kept expecting it to be Ginny and the diary and thought she was under the influence of the Horcrux, when we know from Rikkety the house-elf's behavior after she poisoned Harriet (CH 32) that Ginny is showing signs of having been Imperiused. It's not the Diary; we've seen the Diary (CH 26). You can actually go back and find a clue pointing out where Luna must have gotten the Diadem and who gave it to her.
Would Livi's venom kill the Basilisk? Maybe, given time. The Basilisk's canonically "magic resistant," and venomous snakes do have some resistance to venom when it's introduced to their bloodstream. Given it's a magic snake and incredibly deadly, I'd say it'd most likely survive.