Harry can feel every step he takes reverberate up through his bones and into his head, adding to the already overwhelming sound of his splashing echoing off of the tunnel walls. His chest hurts from how tight he's holding his magic in- it's like the Quirrell situation all over again.
On second thought, Harry isn't going to think about that. In fact, he's going to do his best not to think at all.
He feels as though his chest is just one mottled bruise, and it's not going to let up any time soon- not if he doesn't want Tom, Ginny, Lockhart, and himself going up in a blazing inferno half a mile under the school.
Not that Lockhart is as important to him, obviously, but- well. Harry is already a murderer and he doesn't know if he can handle being one twice-over.
Well, there are a lot of things that have happened in the last couple hours that Harry isn't sure he can handle, but once again- he's elected not to think about any of that.
As Harry runs off, he hears Tom yell, "it's a basilisk!"
Harry doesn't know what that is and almost yells back as much when-
"Don't look it in the eye, it'll kill you!"
Harry slams his eyes shut in an instant, heart stuttering in fear. It'll kill him if he looks it in the eye?
That, compared with the size of that shed skin, doesn't paint a very pretty picture.
Harry manages to run with his eyes completely shut for all of three seconds before he nearly slams himself into a ragged chunk of column lying on the ground in pieces.
Behind him, he hears the sound of something big crashing into the wall, sending rubble and dust into the air. Harry redoubles his running effort, keeping his eyes half-shut and his magic held tight.
He doesn't- he doesn't know what to do.
If only he'd realized something was off when Lockhart told him to come into his office because Merlin was hurt, if only Ginny hadn't walked into the office, if only Tom hadn't followed them down, if only Harry's magic wasn't completely useless...
Harry manages a shuddering gasp through the tightness of his chest and lungs.
Then he feels every hair on the back of his neck stand up as he hears, "prey..."
The voice of the basilisk is even worse when there's not a wall between him and it. It doesn't sound like hissing, not like a snake, but there is a low sibilant sound to it, so loud and deep it sounds almost like thunder.
"No- not prey," Harry manages to yell, praying he's speaking in parseltongue. "Friend! Heir!"
The basilisk doesn't respond for a moment, and Harry takes the opportunity to duck into a side tunnel. Everything is dark outside of the chamber, and Harry is already running half-blind.
He hopes Ginny and Tom are okay.
They have to be okay.
Tom will keep Ginny safe.
Harry stumbles to a stop, heart pounding. He's covered in sweat, and he's shaking so badly he's surprised he hasn't fallen over.
He presses up against the slimy wall, listening hard for the sound of slithering. There's nothing- and for a second, he thinks he's lost her. That, or his desperate bid to claim the heir title worked.
The only problem is that now, Harry's completely lost. He can't see very well with his eyes as closed as he's keeping them, and everything is so dark and dusty.
Harry cracks one of his eyes all the way open, deciding to risk it. If he can catch a glimpse of light, he can at least see where he is in relation to the Chamber.
When he doesn't instantly fall over dead, Harry forces another breath of air into his lungs. His ears are ringing.
He's in a tunnel, just like every other tunnel he's seen so far. The walls are, as he's already felt, covered in a sheen of slimy mold. The air is still, and everything is quiet. Harry forces himself to take another breath.
"Prey," the basilisk hisses, her nose poking out right in front of Harry, in a previously unnoticed outlet. Her long black tongue flickers.
Harry's already running in the opposite direction, eyes half closed once more.
"Not prey," Harry repeats as loud as he can, his voice cracking. This time he knows he said it in parseltongue- but still, no response. Harry tugs his magic even closer, impossibly closer, as he realizes that it's looking like it's going to be either him or the basilisk- and unless he wants to risk unleashing his magic, the basilisk has something of an advantage.
This fact is emphasized by the basilisk slamming into the wall right behind Harry, sending him jumping forward several feet and rolling into a puddle of murky water. Fortunately for Harry, he manages to roll back onto his feet and just keep running.
Unfortunately for Harry, he doesn't know how long he can keep this up. He needs to think of something, figure out a plan- but he's flying blind here, and it's getting harder and harder to think as his magic flails around in his chest.
He might be able to send his magic out- if it manifests like it did for Quirrell, his giant fire snake could be a match for the basilisk. But Harry doesn't know if it'll then go away at that point, doesn't know if it'll seek out more to burn, doesn't know if he could tell it to come back to him.
Probably he could, right? He was able to in the forest, and with Quirrell.
But then the basilisk- she'd die. And it would be Harry's fault all over again.
The basilisk lunges forward again, hissing nonsensical violence as she does, and once again narrowly misses Harry. It's almost like she's not trying to hit him at all. More like she's just trying to- to trip him up, maybe. Get him to look at her?
Maybe she's just toying with him.
"Please," Harry gasps out. "Don't do this."
He doesn't want to kill her.
But he also doesn't want to die.
Harry goes to open his mouth again to say something, anything, to try and get the basilisk to back off when-
The most beautiful melody he's ever heard starts drifting down the tunnels. He wants to stop and listen, try and see if he can figure out what it is- but he doesn't.
However, as he runs, Harry risks another look- and then his eyes are wide open as he sees none other than Fawkes, in all of his resplendent golden glory, shooting down the tunnel like a bullet.
Harry ducks out of the way as soon as he realizes where the bird is headed, squeezing his eyes shut as he does.
Sure enough, after just a couple more seconds, the basilisk is no longer hissing violent nonsense.
Now, she's screaming.
Harry blocks the noise out as best as he can, even though he knows it won't leave his head for a long, long time.
He's been trying not to think of Merlin, but-
Well, Harry feels sort of like throwing up, now.
Instead of doing that, Harry takes the opportunity to run for what he hopes is the Chamber, going down the tunnel Fawkes had flown up. The phoenix had to have made it down here somehow, right?
As he'd thought, soon the tunnel lets back out into a system of tunnels that Harry recognizes as the ones they'd walked down to get to the Chamber. And there- the Chamber itself.
Harry doesn't waste any time- he runs for the still open doorway of the Chamber, and for the light.
The room is positively covered in dust, and the sounds of explosions are echoing in the air. Harry thinks he hears voices, too- one hissed, one not. Voldemort and Tom?
That's what Harry's going to assume- which at the very least means Tom is still alive.
This is almost enough for Harry to burst into tears and then fall over right then and there. Instead, he scans the room again, this time looking for Ginny.
It's no use- the dust is thick in the air, and the areas not illuminated by the wall sconces are shrouded in deep shadow.
Regardless, Harry can't stay here- not in the open, anyways. He heads for the edge of the room instead, heart pounding ever louder in his ears.
Maybe he can get close and distract Voldemort long enough for Tom to get the upper hand?
Harry doesn't want to become a murderer again, but something about the way Tom was looking at the possessed Defense Professor, the look in his eye... well, Harry thinks Tom wouldn't mind killing someone so much.
Harry knows Tom wouldn't mind as much- he'd straight up told Harry to burn the man. Harry loves Tom, and is grateful for him, but the more he gets to know the older boy the more he thinks Tom is more like Theo or Hermione in terms of morality.
Harry reaches the far wall, and goes to follow it further into the room. But then he stops. He could be wrong but he thought he'd heard-
"Harry!"
Yes!
Heart leaping, Harry whirls around. There, crouched at the base of a nearby column, is Ginny. Her eyes are mostly shut, but one of them is cracked open and looking up at him. Her face is so pale it's hard to tell where the white dust ends and her skin begins.
"Ginny!" Harry whispers, rushing over and crouching down besides the girl. "I'm so glad you're-"
"Tom is fighting Lockhart," Ginny cuts in. "And I can't be sure but I think the monster is on it's way back."
Harry's stomach swoops. That would be bad. "Fawkes probably did some damage, maybe-"
"Do you mean the bird?" Ginny asks. Harry is surprised she'd seen him, but he nods. Ginny holds something up. It looks like a ratty piece of cloth.
"He dropped this off as he flew by, do you know why?"
Harry shakes his head no, and then pauses. Something about the cloth... "wait, is that the Sorting Hat?"
Ginny nods, frowning down at it. She seems like she's thinking. Harry is all too aware of the seconds passing by, and tries hard not to feel like the seconds are counting down.
They need to get out of here- or, Ginny does. Harry isn't leaving without Tom.
Harry goes to tell Ginny just that, when he realizes she seems to have stuck the hat on her head. Which, Harry does not think that this is the time for a conversation with the thing.
"I don't think-" Harry starts, but he doesn't get a chance to finish that thought.
"Ow," Ginny says, pulling the Hat off and rubbing her head as she does. Then, to Harry's absolute astonishment, she reaches her hand into the Hat, and withdraws-
"Is that a sword?" Harry asks, disbelievingly.
Ginny shoots him a look that most definitely means, "obviously it's a sword."
Harry stares down at where it's shining in Ginny's hand. It's encrusted with rubies and its hilt is gilt in gold. The blade is long, silver, and looks wicked sharp.
"Can I," Harry says, then stops. He's being ridiculous. What is he supposed to do with a sword? Ginny looks over at him, eyebrow raised.
Inside his chest, his magic tries again to break free, and Harry shoves it down once more.
Well- okay. Better a sword than an inferno, right?
If Harry has to kill someone tonight, he's going to do it in the least risky way possible.
And, somehow, that way is a sword.
Harry holds his hand out.
Ginny hesitates. "I can heal myself," Harry lies. (On another day, maybe- but right now, if he lets his magic do even that, it'll be bursting out of him all at once.) "Neither of us can use a sword, but at least- at least I'll probably survive a one on one fight."
Ginny hesitates just a moment more, then places the hilt into his hand. Harry closes his hand around it- it's surprisingly warm.
Harry takes a breath, despite the twinging in his chest and the panic rising in his throat. Okay. He's really doing this.
"Go, Ginny- see if you can find a way out."
Ginny shakes her head once, jaw set. "No. I don't want to risk running into the monster. I'm staying right here."
There's a glint in her eye that makes Harry think she might not be doing that, that she might be heading into the fray just as he is- but Harry doesn't have the time to argue with her, and he can't try to stun her for the same reason he can't heal himself.
So instead he just sighs, and nods. Ginny relaxes.
Harry goes to stand, sword in hand. He exchanges one more grim look with Ginny, and then turns away from the column, towards the not-so-distant sound of fighting.
Harry tightens his grip on the hilt, taking a strange sort of comfort in the weight of the sword. It feels real- and not at all like it's going to burst into white hot flames.
He forces one more deep breath.
It's time for this to be over- and soon, one way or another, it will be.