Chapter 47 - Last stand

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

~V~

Gilderoy was running. This was it. This was his final chance. After the fiasco that had been his last attempt, he had been this close to throwing the towel, trying to make a getaway while he still could, to salvage what was left of his reputation. But once it had become clear that a student—one of the students he had taken under his wing, no less—had been taken to the chamber, he knew.

It was all or nothing. He would either go down in history as the hero, or as a failure. And if he had anything to say about it, it would be the former.

Even if he didn't really have a plan yet. But whatever the plan might be, he needed—

"Professor Lockhart!"

Speaking of the devil.

"Mister Potter," he said, forcing a smile on his face. "It's good to see you out and about."

The Boy-who-Lived. Not just for the fact that it would make the story ten times grander, but also, as much as he hated to admit it, he might need the boy. His ability to speak to snakes might prove invaluable, if there actually was such a thing as a chamber built by Salazar Slytherin himself.

"What's the plan, Professor?"

Gilderoy sighed. "So you've already heard?"

The boy glared at him. "Iris was taken to the chamber! I'm not just going to go to my dorm and sit around doing nothing!"

He gave the boy a look and nodded at him. Textbook hero, that boy.

"Where do we start?" the boy demanded.

Gilderoy frowned. He was wondering about that himself. "At this point, I suspect there is little purpose to attempting to figure out the heir, or the monster; we need to find the chamber."

The Potter boy nodded fiercely.

"To that end, I suggest we start following the only lead that we had. Or rather, the one your sister had found."

He wasn't quite sure where he had gotten the idea, but it seemed to make a lot of sense.

"You mean... In the second-floor boy's bathroom? But there was nothing there!"

Gilderoy shrugged. "But it is the only lead we have."

Potter's eyes darted about a bit more, before he hesitantly nodded.

"Do you have your sunglasses on you?" he asked.

Potter gave him a look as if he were slightly dense. "Of course!"

"Then let's be off."

~V~

Harry stumbled after the brisk steps of his Defense professor leading him down the staircase, and along the corridor towards the bathroom they had visited months ago. He wasn't sure what Lockhart hoped that they would find, but he agreed that it was the only lead they had. He just hoped that they wouldn't run into that annoying ghost again. Something about her just rubbed him the wrong way.

Harry noticed that Lockhart had stopped half-way before the fork between the boy's and girl's bathroom, and was leaning down to the floor to inspect something.

"What is it?" he asked, hesitantly. Then his eyes widened, as he spotted what Lockhart had seen, and was currently reaching a hand towards. "I-Is that?"

"Blood," confirmed Lockhart. His Defense teacher turned to look further down the hall, where Harry could make out several more splotches leading down towards the doors.

"A trail," Harry whispered, causing Lockhart to nod with a grim expression. "Let's hope it's not too late."

With that, they both took off in a sprint down the corridor, until they reached the fork, which caused Harry to come to a halt with a frown. The trail was leading towards the girl's bathroom, not the boy's. That... that didn't make any sense. Was it someone else entirely, or...

Hesitantly, he pushed open the door towards the girl's bathroom, and he had a strange sense of Deja-vu. The bathroom was absolutely identical to the boy's bathroom he had been in back then, at least, as far as he could remember. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Iris...

But no, Iris wouldn't make a mistake like that. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped up to the sink, to the exact one that Iris had pointed out back then and... there. A small engraving of a Snake, curling around itself. This had to be it!

"Sir! I... I think I found it!"

Lockhart stepped up next to him and took in the engraving in the sink. Harry tried to turn the handle, only to yield no result.

"This must be it," confirmed Lockhart, echoing Harry's thoughts.

They stared at it for a bit, until Lockhart spoke up again, "If this is truly the entrance to Salazar Slytherin's chamber, then I suspect you will have to speak to it... in Parseltongue."

Harry swallowed. Yeah, if only he knew how to do that.

Harry cleared his throat, and said firmly, "Open."

Nothing happened. He frowned, and looked up, and Lockhart gave him a look and shook his head.

Not that easy then. He turned to look back at the snake, trying to imagine it was real, and he wanted to talk to it. Snake-like thoughts, Snake-like thoughts. In the shimmer of the light, it almost looked like it was moving a bit.

"Open!"

The ground shook, and the sink started to descend into the floor. All the other sinks started to move apart, revealing the large round entrance to a tunnel, the bottom of which he could not make out in the darkness.

"I will go first, and I will call for you if the area is clear," stated Lockhart firmly.

Harry steeled his resolve, and nodded.

~V~

The gigantic circular iron door gave one heavy clunk as the metal snakes adorning it moved to obey Harry's command, and the door swung open with a groan. Harry threw one wary glance at Lockhart, both of them with identical sunglasses sitting atop their heads, ready to be lowered onto their faces within a moment's notice.

"Remember, the slightest sound, a tiny motion, anything, you put the sunglasses on and get to safety," reiterated Lockhart once more. "And let me know the moment you can hear the basilisk."

Harry just nodded. They had already been over this. Originally, Lockhart had insisted that Harry should keep on the sunglasses at all times, but Harry had successfully argued that he—much like Lockhart himself—couldn't see shit down here while wearing them; even with a Lumos charm. Also, he was already wearing glasses, which made the sunglasses even clunkier to wear. So this was their compromise.

With a final nod, they stepped through the opening, and into a large stone hall. Large serpentine statues lined the edges, looming far above their heads, and forming a long corridor, at the end of which lay a stone statue of an old wizard. The ground was littered in skeletons, some of which looked vaguely humanoid. And all of them appeared somehow... deformed.

Harry eyed his surroundings tensely, ready to close his eyes and pop on the sunglasses at even the slightest hint of movement.

"Come on, Gilderoy. This is the real deal. Get it together," muttered Lockhart next to him, but Harry ignored him.

Then he saw something. At the end of the hall, just in the shadows of the large statue—a silhouette. Harry's hand flashed up his head for his sunglasses, but then paused. Was... was that...

"I-Iris?" Harry whispered.

The silhouette turned, and gave him a blinding smile. Harry felt an almost painful wave of relief flood his body, as he sagged into himself. Iris was here. She was okay. She was... alive.

He took one staggering step, then another, and then broke into a run. The last thing he saw was an ear-splitting grin, until he was engulfed in a hug. For the longest time, there was nothing but his sisters soft touch, sweeping away all the worry and panic that had been clinging onto him until this very moment.

"Hi, Harry," her voice purred into his ear, just like when she was teasing him and Tracey in the library.

She pulled back and rested her forehead against his, green eyes staring into his own. There was a ferocious glint in her eyes, and her mouth was that of a slight smirk. Her hand was trailing up his chest, until it came to rest in his hair, but instead of ruffling it like usual, she'd just gently swipe the strands out of his face, holding it there, and staring into his eyes with a hungry look.

"Iris? Wha—"

His questioning words got muffled by his sister's lips. Harry's eyes bulged. His brain took a moment to process what on earth it was experiencing—the wet and warm sensation feeling all kinds of wrong—until he finally managed to pull the emergency break. Harry squirmed out of her grip and shoved her back, taking deep gulps of air.

"What the hell, Iris?!"

The girl was running her fingers along her mouth and gave him a look that was so very wrong on his sister's face.

Finally, she licked her lips, pushed up imaginary glasses, broke into a smirk and replied, "Sorry, Harry. Iris isn't here."

No. It couldn't be... no way, she was...

"Mister Potter, get away from her, NOW!" yelled a distressed Lockhart, who had drawn his wand, aiming its glowing tip right at his sister. Or rather, at whoever it was masquerading as her.

The Iris-lookalike moved her hand from her mouth, down to the pendant around her neck, while holding up the other hand next to it. The mirror trap turned translucent and a strange orange-yellow-ish glow emerged from it, and was quickly drawn out of the pendant, and balled up in her free hand, being held like her usual orb of light, except it felt... wrong. Dangerous.

Lockhart's wand blurred, and their surroundings came alive. Statues and rubble transfigured into wolves, panthers, a tiger, and a trio of spells came racing right at her.

The redheaded girl tilted her head, raised her hand holding the glowing orb, and made a motion as if blowing Lockhart a kiss. Harry realized what was going on just a second too late to do anything about it, and his hand desperately reached for his sunglasses, until he felt the frame, tugged, and his vision snapped into darkness.

The orb exploded into a cone of yellow light, engulfing Lockhart whole, who froze in his tracks—literally. Harry felt a painful stab of icy cold pierce his eyes, just as his sunglasses cracked through the middle by themselves, and an electric shiver started to spread throughout his body.

Lockhart's spells, his transfigurations, all of it stopped mid-motion, frozen. No... petrified.

Harry watched in horror as his defense teacher—his best hope at making it out of here alive—slowly came toppling forwards—a shocked expression still frozen on his face—and crashed to the ground, accompanied by the sound of his wand snapping from the impact.

The girl lowered her hand with a flourish, the now depleted pendant resting innocently around her neck. "The power to control light..." she whispered, and took a step towards him. Harry stood there, frozen solid, and he wasn't sure if it was from the attack, or just from the shock of what he had just witnessed, as the girl reached a hand and plucked the sunglasses from his unresisting face.

"Pretty useless in the magical world at first glance, buuut..." her face broke into a smile, as she twirled the cracked glasses in her hand, then tossed them over her shoulder. "With just a bit of creativity... It turns out there's a lot of potential here..."

She turned, then came to a stop in front of the petrified form of Lockhart, knelt down, and ran a finger along his face. "Captured light reflected from the basilisk's eye," she whispered.

The thing pretending to be his sister got up and gave him a shrug. "Not quite as effective as direct exposure, but it gets the job done."

Harry screamed at his body, at his limbs. He had to move, and he had to move now! He sent a desperate cry for help to every single muscle in his body, and wound it tightly like a coiled spring. With a snap, he wrenched himself out of his paralysis, and he whirled to face the imposter with narrowed eyes and his wand raised. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And what have you done to Iris?"

In response, the girl gave him a hurtful expression. "Aww, Harry, you wound me! I thought you'd recognize little ol' me?"

The girl twirled, and then gave him a dirty grin, doing that motion again as if she was wearing glasses.

No way. He had known that ghost was bad news.

"Myrtle? How? Are you... possessing her somehow? Let her go!" Harry shouted, aiming his wand, but unsure if he would be able to cast any spells at what still was very much his own sister.

"Well, let's say... she was a bit too curious for her own good."

Gripping his wand even more tightly, he growled "What are you talking about?"

"In her relentless quest for knowledge... and power... all in order to protect you, she learned something that she really shouldn't have. And that very knowledge has now trapped her within her own mind. I'm just... borrowing her body while she's gone."

Knowledge that was dangerous on its own... was she talking about... Oh.

The heir of Slytherin. The last known person to claim to be such was the Dark Lord. The same Dark Lord whose name could twist your mind into insanity just by knowing it.

What on earth could he do?

"Not that there's any chance of her returning, that is. Poor little Iris didn't even know the first thing about Occlumency. And while some weirdness about her magic still prevented me from just taking the front door, once something is inside her mind, well..."

Harry felt the frosty fingers of dread enclose around his chest.

"It's incredibly difficult even for accomplished Occlumens to resist the power of his Name. Sorry. But I'm afraid you'll have to settle for little ol' me."

The smile on his face did nothing to settle his spinning thoughts.

No. That wasn't possible. He wouldn't accept it. She was right THERE. There had to be a way! He had to keep her talking. Figure out what to do.

"So you were the one who possessed Ginny as well?" he shouted his accusation, hoping to buy time.

His sister's face broke into a grin. "Ah, yes. Poor Ginny." Her grin gained a few extra teeth. "Did you know that all she wanted was to be your friend? She even went so far as to sacrifice my Diary in a make-shift free ritual, trying to trade me for you. Luckily, this thing's made of sturdier stuff," she added, waving about the book that Iris had been carrying around pretty much everywhere lately.

Hang on... was that. The artifact? The thing they had been looking for, that had been possessing Ginny? Iris had had it the whole time?!

"Why?" Harry screamed in frustration. "Why do you work for him?"

The girl gave him a bittersweet smile. "Oh, it's quite simple, really. I'm sure your sister has explained it to you."

Her eyes met his for a moment, and then she just shrugged. "I simply want what he wants."

Like... the Imperius Curse? Did that even work on ghosts or... over this long of a period? But it still felt different. Iris had made it sound like she just wanted what he wanted, but didn't have any drive or freedom for choices or acting on her own thoughts in any way. Like an NPC, simply following commands, no matter how stupid they were. Her words, not his.

But he was pretty damn sure that the Dark Lord didn't want to... to... kiss him. He felt another shiver at that memory.

"You won't get away with this!" Harry hissed.

"Oh?" she tilted her head. "I think you'll find that I already have."

Harry finally managed to move, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

She hadn't even drawn her wand yet, but he knew she had one. A red bolt of light burst from his wand, and his aim was true. The sizzling ray of energy came straight at her, straight at her face, but just before it would reach her, the girl raised an eyebrow, and he watched in disbelief as the spell veered off-course mid-air and harmlessly sailed past her shoulder.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Accio diary!"

His expression was met with a smirk. "Sorry, that's not going to work."

A hand was raised, and began to glow blue, and just as Harry hastily completed the motion of the shield charm, a bright flash of blue burst from her hand with a shout of "Depulso!"

The blue bolt crossed the distance in a shower of sparks, just as his shield formed, and he watched in dismay as just as he had seen so many times, the spell smashed right through his shield. However, instead of him forcefully being tossed backwards, something entirely different happened. He felt a flash of... something shoot through his wrist, and a bright blue hexagonal shield materialized right in front of his chest, and reflected the spell away from him, tossing the spell right back at her, which caused her eyes to widen as she hastily stepped out of the way.

Harry was breathing deeply, with wide eyes, he raised his hand and found the source of the electric feeling—the friendship-bracelet. It was glowing in a bright blue, just like the shield that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He had no idea what the hell had just happened, or why it was doing this, but it had given him an opening. He swiped his wand in the familiar circular pattern, pointed it at her—this time at the center of her mass—and shouted "Expelliarmus!"

The spell began to bend again, but he grinned as he realized that it wouldn't be enough, and the girl frowned and made to dodge out of the way, but just as it was about to pass her by an inch, her own bracelet glowed just as brightly, producing an orange shield which reflected the spell back at him. This time, his own bracelet did nothing to counter his own spell, and he felt it impact his chest, staggering him backwards, and with a sad little yank, his wand came tumbling out of his loosening grip and right into her own awaiting hand.

The ghost masquerading as his sister inspected the bracelet adorning her own wrist with curiosity. "Of course... The bond of kinship, with an artifact like this, especially after such a long time... If their magic was turned on one another with malicious intent, it would be turned right back around," the girl mused to herself.

Harry scrambled back to his feet, and glared at the girl possessing his sister, who grinned, and was now inspecting her hand.

"It's... remarkable, really. Her magic was completely and utterly shattered. By all accounts, she should be a squib."

She slowly approached Harry again, and he took a hesitant step backward, as she finally withdrew Iris' own wand.

"Yet the pieces still remain functioning. And somehow, despite the odds, she managed to forge it into something where the sum of its parts is so much greater than the whole."

"You know..." The girl put her wand on her shoulder and tilted her head. "I think I might just stay for a while longer..."

"Not if we stop you," Harry croaked.

"Oh please," the girl giggled. "I just took out the wizarding world's premier hero in one hit. Who do you think could still stop me at this point? You?"

She approached closer, so close, until he could feel her breath on his face, as she trailed a finger underneath his chin. "That's cute."

"Dumbledore will stop you!" Harry growled.

Her smile morphed into a frown. "Dumbledore... has been driven from the castle by my mere presence, without me ever having to even raise a wand at him."

"Has he now?" Harry bluffed, trying to buy time.

His ears perked up as he heard a distant sound, and Myrtle spun around as well. A melodious cry of song, filling his heart with joy, happiness, and contentment. He instinctively sagged into himself, and only after a second had he noticed that he was smiling.

His eyes spotted something red and gold, streaking across the ceiling. It was a phoenix. Dumbledore's phoenix.

Something soft tumbled into his lap, and he looked down warily to inspect it, only to realize it was distinctly hat-shaped. Why on earth would Dumbledore's phoenix show up... and bring him what looked like the Sorting-Hat?

"What the hell is the old man playing at?" came his sisters voice, a frown marring her face.

Harry was wondering that himself. Had Dumbledore really sent him... a bird, and a hat?

She took a breath, then stood ramrod straight, not even moving a muscle for several seconds, her eyes closed. "Homenum Revelio!"

Harry saw his chance, and without thinking, charged at her, intent to wrench her wand from her. Or maybe just the diary.

Time seemed to slow down as she cracked an eyelid, and he felt something enclose on them. No, he saw something. Or rather, nothing. The shadows were growing, much quicker and bigger than they ever had. The phoenix gave a screech of righteous anger at the sheer presence of magic in such opposition to its very nature. As the shadows grew, they were drawn into the wand which the girl had now raised, until, after barely two steps, it was all over. Her wand started glowing and crackling in an angry red, and just as he took the final step to reach her, she firmly intoned, "Crucio!"

Harry didn't quite remember what happened after that. He vaguely remembered falling, screaming, struggling. Oh, and pain. So much pain. Like every fiber of his being had been set alight and electrocuted all at once. Some part of his mind had realized that it had lasted barely a second, but it had still felt like hours to him.

Harry collapsed back to the ground, only from the corner of his eye he noticed the demon wearing his sister's skin staring down at her wand as if seeing it for the first time.

"That..." she whispered, and slowly lowered her wand, rolling it in her fingers.

"...was remarkably... easy," said the girl in wonder.

Harry was breathing deeply, still trying to get his shivering and spasming limbs under control. His face fell down onto his bracelet with a betrayed expression. Why hadn't it protected him like before?

"Well, I'm sorry, Harry. You see, the original plan was to sacrifice you, to create a body of my own, buuut..."

Her face morphed into a grin, as she curled and uncurled her fingers. "I think I could get used to this."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Not if he had anything to say about it. But what on earth could he—

Harry saw something glimmer from the corner of his eye. There! Inside the... hat? He rolled to his side, stuck his hand inside the hat, and his hands closed around something heavy, and... metallic? He gripped onto it tightly and pulled, and with the sound of a sword being unsheathed, his eyes widened as exactly that was pulled out of the hat. A large silver sword, encrusted with red gems on its cross-guard and pommel.

There was a giggle, which slowly turned into full-blown laughter. Harry whirled to face Myrtle; the sword still clutched in his hand.

"Oh, this is just too perfect... You're basically writing Lockhart's story for him!"

She grinned at him. "The Boy-Who-Lived, facing off all alone against his evil twin, wielding nothing but a sword, aided by no one save for a phoenix."

Harry would have blushed, if the situation had been any less dire.

"Well..." she purred, tapping her finger against her chin. "Why don't we give you something to fight with that sword of yours, then?"

~V~

Harry had no idea how the hell he wasn't dead already. The moment that he had heard the voice, his brain had switched into pure fight-or-flight mode. Which, so far, had mostly consisted of flight. Nobody had told him that the gigantic fuck-off snake would be as wide as he was tall! Basilisks were supposed to be a few meters long at most! Luckily, somehow, the phoenix had managed to take out the basilisk's eyes from the start, otherwise he'd probably be long dead already.

"Nice swing, almost had it that time!"

One moment he had been running through tunnels and pipes, scared out of his mind, the next he was climbing onto statues, clutching the sword like a lifeline, all the while accompanied by cheers and snarky commentary from Myrtle.

The gigantic snake hissed at him as he took another desperate swing at its head, until it swiped its tail at him, and he threw himself to the side, but didn't manage to completely avoid it.

"Ouch, that one's gotta hurt..."

He felt the air knocked out of him as he was tossed back against the statue, the sword tumbling from his grip. His insides were screaming in pain, and Harry found it difficult to even raise a hand, much less his whole body.

"Come on, Harry, you better move, if you don't wanna be dinner~" his sister's voice taunted him from across the room.

Every fiber of his body protesting the motion, he managed to roll himself onto his side, and his fingers just barely managed to graze the hilt of the sword. Stretching with every single muscle that would still obey him, his fingers closed around the metallic handle, just as the basilisk directly above him reared back to strike.

With a yell he thrust the sword upwards, and it caught. There was a scream, and he felt himself flung off the statue, and right towards his sister. The girl's eyes widened, and she swiped her wand in a familiar pattern as if on instinct, and shouted "Protego!"

Yet, nothing happened. One moment later, he felt himself impact straight into her, and they both tumbled to the ground. Luckily, he had lost the sword somewhere along the way. In fact, from the corner of his eyes, he could see the basilisk convulsing, hissing in pain, as it collapsed to the ground, the hilt of the sword still sticking out of its maw.

Harry groaned, and managed to roll himself into a sitting position. Across from him his sister lay in a crumpled heap, and was slowly getting back to her feet, her wand still clutched in her hand. On the ground, in front of him, he spotted—

His eyes widened, and he reached a hand, but was interrupted by a sharp jab of pain from his arm. He looked down, and spotted the splintered remains of what looked like a giant fang lodged firmly in his right arm. Already, it was quickly starting to feel numb, and a dull, cold and pulsing pain was spreading out from the wound. Basilisk venom.

Myrtle finally spotted what had happened. "Well, would you look at that..."

She approached him slowly, her wand held at her side, as Harry desperately clutched the sharp fang and pulled it out of his arm, but he knew it was already too late. He vaguely noticed the phoenix settling next to him, crooning softly.

"Thus ends the story of the Boy-Who-Lived."

No. He wasn't going to let it end like this. If he wasn't going to survive this, at least... there had to be a way he could still save his sister! He didn't care if he died, as long as she... as long as she would...

His eyes locked onto the object at his feet from their fall—the diary. The artifact that supposedly had been possessing Ginny, maybe even was the cause of what was happening to Iris as well.

His eyes flicked between the black book resting innocently on the ground, and the basilisk fang still clutched in his hand.

The moment he moved, he knew that Myrtle had realized what he was up to. An almost palpable wave of shadows burst forth, being drawn inwards into the wand of the girl bearing a mix of terror and rage on her face. With unwavering determination, he reached for the diary on the ground, and raised his left hand, the dripping fang glinting against the fleeting torchlight. Another angry screech pierced the air as magic coalesced into the wand, its tip glowing a bright and painful green.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A thunderclap, a blinding flash, and the oppressive rush of Death itself enveloped him as the fang plunged down, down, down towards the diary.