Harry began the now familiar process of flooding his body and soul with magic. He gathered his considerable power into his fists, connecting his soul with the phoenix fire of his rarely used wand in the holster under his sleeve and the endless Dark of the cloak. He stood, eyes closed, at the center of the dim Chamber. He felt the bulk of the Basilisk strike the ground as it continued to hiss condemnations at him.

Harry took one slow breath before leaping into action. His first step must be to avoid being attacked from all sides. He could not allow Tom Riddle to interrupt his duel with the great beast. Luckily, Tom was not Voldemort. Not yet. He had not mastered the Resurrection Stone, did not understand the true nature of magic.

He still used a wand.

Harry shot forward faster than mortal eyes could follow and snapped Ginny's wand with one smooth motion. Riddle roared in anger and tried to throw wandless magic at him, but he was still being sustained by the soul of an eleven-year-old girl and couldn't do much more than ruffle Harry's clothes.

Harry was forced to throw himself backwards in a panic as the Basilisk's maw struck the ground where he had previously been standing. It was fast, far faster than anything he had fought save for Voldemort himself, and it was enormous. Even blind, Harry could tell from its spark that it was as thick as the most ancient trees in the forbidden forest and longer than a football field. This was not a monster that would die easily.

He dodged again as he threw a blast of pure emerald magic at the creature. He didn't really expect it to work, but it was worth a try, and it might distract the beast.

He was disappointed on both counts.

He felt rather than saw his disintegrating magic splash against the snake's armored skin. He had read as much as he could about Basilisks since Dumbledore's revelation and knew that their magic-resistant hide was legendary. He would not be able to get through with pure magic. Maybe with direct contact like the Troll, or through the soft tissues of its mouth like the very first demon he had killed when he was five.

He threw himself over the beast's swinging tail and ran straight up a pillar. He flipped up to the ceiling and launched himself downwards at incredible speed like he had with Fluffy. He smashed into the back of the Basilisk's head, and it barely flinched. He empowered his hands with all of his strength and tried to rip out the great serpent's spine, but he couldn't make any headway through its impossibly tough hide before he was thrown off and had to focus on turning midair to avoid becoming a bloody smear against a pillar.

Over and over, he closed with the enormous monster, trying anything and everything that he could think of to pierce its hide while Ginny's life slowly drained away.

He just. Couldn't. Do it.

His magic was powerful, and his body was strong. He could not be killed, and he could not be contained. He was the Death Walker, the master and keeper of his soul.

But he could not kill the great beast.

He did not know if he was the unstoppable force or the immovable object, but he and the Basilisk fought at a stalemate. It could not kill him, and he could not kill it. But he would not win a battle of attrition.

He would regret it if he was unable to save Ginny, but he had a far greater concern. If he was locked in an endless contest to keep the Basilisk from rampaging through the school, it would be much more difficult to contain a reborn Tom Riddle at the same time.

Harry landed and surveyed his enemies, planting his feet in the cracked stone. He was the last line of defense for the ancient castle. He was the only thing keeping this evil from rampaging across the world, and the school would crumble from within if he failed. Hermione and Luna and Neville would die.

He could not be killed. He would hold the line here, for as long as it took, and if his body was eventually broken then his soul would be forced to leave and seek out Dumbledore.

But until then, he was the guardian of the castle. He was the line in the sand that would not be crossed. Even if he could not win, he would never falter.

Phoenix song rang in the air.

Albus?

It was not the headmaster. Fawkes the phoenix flashed into the Chamber, soaring above him with a triumphant melody as it dropped a scruffy looking item at his feet. He took a split second to wonder why it had brought the Sorting Hat to him before he mentally shrugged and shoved it onto his head.

It was not the voice of the hat that he had heard so long ago. A woman's voice spoke in his ear, deep and smooth.

"O Knight of the Kingdom of Magic,

Take up your sword."

Acting on instinct, Harry whipped the hat off of his head and plunged his hand inside. His fingers closed over a warm, smooth hilt and he drew a shining silver sword from the depths of the hat with a blazing arc of green fire. His magic flowed into the weapon, connecting and finding a power as deep and infinite as the cloak.

"As long as courage is tempered with wisdom, and ambition chained to loyalty, may your enemies fall."

He recklessly threw his soul into the blade, drowning himself in its endless fire as he once again felt the true purpose of a fragment of divinity. He felt it bond with his soul just as the cloak had, becoming one with him until he could not tell where he ended and the Sword of Gryffindor began. Just as he once fell into the calm, peaceful Dark of the Shroud of Death, he now plunged into the searing, righteous Light of the Blade of the Castle.

He returned to himself as he dropped the hat and swung the sword. It felt natural, a part of him just as much as his limbs or his magic. He was now the master of the sword, and he would defend his kingdom.

High above him, the Basilisk reared and roared. Harry's emerald eyes opened as he realized that Fawkes had clawed out the great beast's eyes and was circling above the massive serpent's now ruined face. The phoenix's song swelled in a victorious battle hymn as Harry and the immortal bird attacked together, from below and above.

Harry couldn't help but grin widely. It didn't really feel like a fair fight anymore.

The Basilisk was enormous, and its strength was unrivaled, but it could not catch him. The sword sliced through its hide like paper and now that he could actually damage it, the monster didn't stand a chance against him. Flipping and twisting in a tornado of green flame, Harry cut the great beast of the deep to ribbons.

As the snake finally slowed, Harry was able to get above it once again. This time armed and empowered, he crashed into the back of the Basilisk's head and drove the Blade of the Castle deep into its skull. The king of serpents let out one final high, keening scream before it collapsed, smashing into the stone below with a thunderous crash.

Harry withdrew his sword and idly noticed that neither blood nor gore clung to it. It was as pristine as when he had pulled it from the hat.

Striding over to where the shade of Tom Riddle stood with a shocked and horrified expression, Harry wasted no time. He could feel the sick, malicious magic of Voldemort leaking from the diary on the ground, the source of the memory and the reason that Harry had not sensed him before now. The taint did not cling to Ginny but to the diary, and unless he had sensed her while Tom was actively possessing her, he had no reason to think that she was the victim. With one quick motion, he stabbed the sword into the sopping wet pages.

Riddle screamed, writhing and twisting as light began to destroy him from within. Ink flowed across the floor of the chamber as his mirage body warped and then was gone in a small explosion of light.

Ginny awoke with a start.

"I…what…Harry! I'm so sorry, so so sorry, I didn't mean to… how… how did you…where's Riddle? I don't…" Ginny broke down sobbing as Harry walked over to her, still coming down from his adrenaline rush and the realization that he had mastered another fragment of divinity. He placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"It's alright, don't worry. Riddle is gone, and the Basilisk is dead. We have to get back to the school and figure out how to contact Dumbledore. Everything will be ok."

"They're going to expel me, I just know it, I…"

Harry let her ramble as he led her out of the chamber, stopping to grab the destroyed diary on the way past. Compared to his worries about the unrestrained slaughter of all of the students in the school, the concerns of Ginny Weasley seemed frightfully small.