"ᴀʟʟ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴ ʏᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ʜᴇʀᴇ"
― ᴅᴀɴᴛᴇ ᴀʟɪɢʜɪᴇʀɪ, ɪɴꜰᴇʀɴᴏ
Chapter Seventeen: A Deadly Riddle
Ruby gaped, looking back at Tee to make sure that he and the man before her were two different people.
They were, indeed.
That was unsettling. The floor seemed to drop from beneath her feet, and the world spun around her.
Tee was wearing a nonplussed, slightly irritated expression, but he did not look surprised. If Tee had known enough to suspect Harry was here, that probably meant he was working with this latest incarnation of Voldemort. And down here, trapped far beneath the school, no one would know where they were, no one would come to find them.
They were completely, utterly alone.
We are probably going to die down here.
Already buried beneath the ground, after all, likely already dead, too.
And then, she heard Harry's voice in her head, whispering to her from under the Invisibility Cloak.
"Are they both like him? Copies? Or is it only — only yours who's like that, and the other's just a locket?"
And she had seen the locket, too, hadn't she, in her vision in the Divination final, the snake twisting and writhing in the fire, devouring itself, an unearthly, unholy thing. The ouroboros.
All of a sudden, as she gazed at Tom Riddle, the reason dawned on her.
"You're a Horcrux," breathed Ruby, a great, earth-shattering sense of existential horror mounting within her. "You were in the locket like Tee was in the diary. You're... you're Voldemort's simulacra."
The man laughed, the same joyless, high, cold laugh as his younger and older selves, regarding her the same way Tee had in the Chamber of Secrets after Lockhart's death, like something little and curious and venomous. But he didn't look fully human, not like Tee. He was something cold, half-alive, bloodless, and uncanny, almost like a vampire. When he was still, she could almost bear to look at him, but when he moved or spoke, Ruby was filled with dread.
"How very astute," he said softly. The soft firelight glanced off his shoulders, tumbling onto the floor, reflecting off the brass machinery behind him. "Horcrux, yes; simulacra, no. We are nothing so innocent as a mere duplicate."
Soul damage, Dumbledore had said. The process, after all, leaves the mind and body intact, stripping away only the soul.
An icy, shivery sensation ran down her spine. She clung to the only thing she knew, the only thing she still trusted, a promise made in the indelible ink of death and blood.
"You can't hurt Harry here."
Again, Riddle laughed. Beside her, Tee twitched in discomfort. She felt his tension through his grip, every muscle in his body straining, the veins showing in his forehead. Was he as surprised to see this strange, older Riddle as she was? Or was he in on it all along?
"Hmm. Not here, no. But outside of Hogwarts, outside of that enchantment your mother wove, the both of you will meet your fates."
"Hogwarts is impervious to the outside world," said Ruby defiantly, throwing her shoulders back. "No way in, no way out without a letter personally addressed to you."
Suddenly, Tee cleared his throat, startling her.
"You've been tampering with the artifice."
What? Ruby's attention snapped back to the newest addition to the room, a towering clockwork-like mechanism. When she closed her eyes, she could hear, beyond the steadying clicking of treads and whirring of gears, a low, insistent, groaning whine. Tee was right. The artifice was failing.
"Young Theodore proved instrumental in locating the source of Dumbledore's enchantment," said Riddle in a casual tone, flicking his wand back and forth as if with ennui. "I knew it was something too complex to be a simple spell, and unlike the other magics placed upon this castle, it could not be simply woven into its structure. There was a very strong Disillusionment Charm on it. Theodore Nott has been helping me break it over the past few months while everyone's been running around like idiots, scared of poison and squabbling over blood purity."
All the while that Riddle had been talking, Tee's grip on Ruby's arm had been slackening. She wriggled free, dashed over to Harry, and unknotted the cloth tied around his face; he leaned forward, coughing.
"Did he hurt you?" asked Ruby frantically, searching him for any evidence of harm.
Harry shook his head, and she started picking at the knots on his binds. The two Riddles watched in a tense silence.
"Untie him if you like," said the elder Riddle, his voice warm and pleased, as if he had come up with a particularly clever way to win a game of chess. "It doesn't matter. The artifice will be destroyed beyond repair very soon. If my calculations are correct, the resultant energy released from that exothermic process should be enough to disrupt the Apparition wards. That is to say, Harry and Ruby Potter, your fateful meeting with the Dark Lord approaches. Rejoice... or despair."
Harry flinched; Ruby felt the movement jostle her hands as she loosened the ropes around his wrists. Riddle's words frightened her, too. The knot of anxiety that had loosened when she'd seen that Harry was alive was back and drawing tighter and tighter.
He'd thought this out for a whole year, maybe; there would be no escape. He wasn't Lockhart, after all.
Ruby finally got Harry free, and he unsteadily got to his feet.
"We'll just be leaving now," said Harry, brushing himself off. He was straining to keep his voice steady, his posture unnaturally straight.
No one moved.
Thinking quickly, Ruby pointed her wand at the door and yelled, "Reducto!"
Tee sprang aside, but the curse fizzled out harmlessly against the door. She tried again, targeting the wall this time, but failed.
With a cold, sinking feeling, Ruby realised that the room had been made indestructible. Her throat went dry at the thought; the sense of vertigo returned.
Riddle crossed his arms. "Escape is impossible, as you can see. This is one of the most, if not the most, secure area in Hogwarts; you can thank Dumbledore for that."
We really are going to die. The thought nearly paralysed her; it made her legs unsteady under her, her brain sluggish and her limbs useless. It felt as if the room were filled with a thousand Dementors.
A short, snapping sound filled the room; a series of creaking, cracking noises, like the breaking of an eggshell, followed. The artifice-powered enchantment was slowly breaking down, grinding to a halt.
How long before we die?
For some reason, the thought was strangely calming. Maybe it should have frightened Ruby, but she felt as if she were encased in ice, sleeping in a coffin already.
"Mordred," a voice was saying, strangely forlorn. "What happens to me?"
It was Tee; he sounded far away.
"You? You've outlived your usefulness."
There was a long pause.
"Ruby Potter," said Tee, his voice resounding on the stone walls, almost as it had when he'd screamed at the Dementor in the library, forcing her out of her stupor. "I'm repaying my debt to you in your time of need."
Everything finally seemed to snap back into focus as Tee drew his wand, turned to face his elder ― Mordred ― and bowed respectfully. The latter watched him, something flickering at the corner of his mouth. Tee's expression remained unmoved, blank and resolute.
"I hoped it wouldn't come to this," said Mordred.
They were strangely unalike, thought Ruby. It reminded her of a stray cat fighting a tiger. There was no way Tee could win against him. But she knew why he had to do it; she felt it, the life debt thrumming through her blood, too, and the strings of fate pulled tight. No one could prevent this fight.
You've got a clump that looks like an 'M,' but there's a wiggly bit like a snake next to it, so that usually means you've got to face an enemy whose name starts with M.
Even she, desisted Seer, had predicted it.
"No Unforgivables," said Tee, his manner twitchy, nervous almost, seeming, for all his height, somehow small. "No physical contact."
Now, Mordred's eyes flickered with recognition, and he finally returned the bow, accepting his younger self's terms.
"There's no way he'll win," Harry breathed. "It's suicide."
"He won't kill him." He knows that. Ruby thought of the professors' conversation. Not if it will make Voldemort weaker.
Mordred spun Harry's wand between his fingers, the movement as natural as if he had been born with a wand in his hand, assuming an offensive position.
"Don't look at me like that," he growled. "Like you're as pure as the driven snow."
Three.
Two.
One.
And then, they both cast at the same time, their near-identical voices overlapping into a cacophony. Whether they were meant to kill, Ruby did not know, for neither met their target, Tee's spell disintegrating as it hit Mordred's silver shield, Mordred's spell whizzing past Tee's head as he leapt out of the way, harmlessly fizzling out against the wall.
Ruby started to back away, indicating that Harry should do the same. The last thing they needed was to get caught in the lethal crossfire.
"Think there's any way we can sneak out?" asked Harry.
With a great, soundless gesture, Mordred had transmuted the stones under Tee's feet to quicksand. He strained, the floor refusing to yield his feet, and took in Mordred's evaluative gaze, gritting his teeth.
Tee made a quick, desperate slashing motion with his wand, and Ruby saw blood spring on Mordred's cheek, but it was a shallow cut.
"Past them? Not likely."
Somehow, Tee had gotten himself free, gracefully sidestepping another of Mordred's curses, summoning tiles to deflect them.
"So few spells?" taunted Mordred, cocking his head to the side. "So little you knew back then, but after all, you must be forgiven; your teachers were snivelling cowards, afraid of power. Allow me to teach you." He pronounced some cruel-sounding word that Ruby did not know, but the effect was instead.
A loud, hacking cough emanated from Tee, blood dribbling out the side of his mouth. He stumbled.
"The Entrail-Expelling Curse, but with a far gentler touch. It simply shifts everything around a bit― Ah!"
Tee's curse hit Mordred squarely between the eyes, sending him sailing into the wall behind him as if he'd been smitten by a giant. Breathing hard, Tee stumbled forward, a murderous glint in his eyes, another curse on his lips.
But Mordred was faster. With a flick of his wand, the stone flooring around him rose, pelting Tee with a storm of dust. For a moment, he disappeared completely in the whirling chaos, and then, it began to clear.
An ominous, desperate, hacking sound resounded. Tee was lying prone on the floor, writhing and coughing, his eyes bulging.
And then, he was quiet. For a moment, the room was deafeningly so.
Covered head to toe in grey dust and completely unmoving, Tee looked more statue than human, Ruby thought, through that same strangely calm haze.
Dead. His insides must be coated, too. He must have died painfully, of suffocation, she supposed. Ruby felt oddly numb at the thought. Was that normal?
The grinding sound from the artifice grew louder and louder, now accompanied by an ominous, deep rattle.
"No one left to protect you now," said Mordred, twirling Harry's wand between his fingers as he advanced, breezing past Tee's still form. "You know how to duel, Harry, I assume?"
The numb feeling in her stomach and fingers grew cold.
Mordred leaned down, plucked Lockhart's wand from the floor, and offered it to Harry, who did not put his hand out to take it. Instead, Harry regarded Mordred with a long, tense look.
"First, we bow."
"Harry, NO!" she shrieked, but it was too late. The wand flew out of her hand, rolling uselessly on the floor, and in the blink of an eye, a Full Body-Bind Curse immobilised every limb.
HARRY! she wanted to scream, but her mouth refused to move.
Ironically, though her body was frozen, her mind no longer was. She thrashed and screamed and yelled, or at least, she tried to.
Ruby could only watch helplessly as Harry bent down to pick up her wand, saying nothing as he assumed a duelling position, eyes blazing with hate.
Riddle looked him up and down and laughed, a high, cold sound resounding on the stone.
"Poetic, don't you think? A brother and sister's wand, turned on each other."
He, too, assumed a duelling position, bowing slightly. Harry barely inclined his head.
It begun. A barrage of jinxes flew from Harry's wand, flashing like a dagger in Mordred's practised hand, Harry barely managing to dodge each one. Ruby's heart was stuttering in her chest, her palms growing slick. If she could, she would be shaking.
Mordred's face was alight with amusement, his posture easy, not focused and fierce like he had been with Tee. The difficulty level had been decreased.
He's toying with Harry, Ruby realised, with a deep, sinking feeling. But she could not throw herself between them; she could not call out to warn him or even lift a finger, no matter how much she strained. It was all futile now; everything was a waste.
Even as Mordred continued to lazily toss jinxes at Harry, the latter started to tire, no longer able to dodge, resorting to blocking.
"Yes, Harry, cower behind your shield, as you did behind your Mudblood mother," Mordred taunted.
A yell tore itself from Harry, and he sprang forward, voice contorted with fury, shouting, "EXPULSO!"
It never met its target; Mordred flicked away the curse with a spray of blue light. As he advanced on Harry, already wounded by the jinxes that hadn't been missed, blocked, or dodged, completely spent, breathing in short, shallow gasps, Ruby strained to struggle to her feet, but she was as helpless as Tee, lying maybe-dead on the stone floor.
Mordred twirled Harry's wand again; Harry was only barely managing to stand with the last of his strength, glowering defiantly up at him.
"You will greet death like your father?" Mordred whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear. "Staring boldly at him? It is a good show that you put on, Harry, but I know that you are afraid. You cannot hide it from me."
No! No! Ruby strained against the enchantment, her muscles burning, eyes bulging out of her head.
"Stupefy."
The red light hit Harry square between the eyes; as he fell, Mordred caught him and then gently lowered him to the floor. Ruby couldn't breathe. Her throat was all tight with misery and twisted―
Mordred's shiny black shoes were coming towards her, tapping out a rhythm of death against the stone. He pointed Harry's wand at her head, and Ruby wished she could close her eyes or turn her head so she wouldn't have to see his gloating face.
"Finite incantatem."
Shock flooded her as she suddenly regained control of her limbs, stumbling to her feet. Her eyes focused on Harry, lying unconscious.
But still breathing.
Ruby hurried over to him, hyperaware of Mordred's gaze, as she shook her brother.
"Harry. Harry. Wake up, please!"
"He won't wake."
Ruby turned, her hand still resting on Harry's shoulder. Mordred was staring at her, not in the way that Tee did, like she was something small and venomous, but instead as if he were looking at a very interesting toy.
"Where are my manners?" asked Mordred softly, like singing a lullaby. "We haven't been introduced. Hello, Ruby Potter. Will you scry for me?"
She stared up at him, burning with hatred, furious at her own helplessness.
"No," she spat.
"Wrong answer."
He stepped forward and grabbed her by her hair, half-leading, half-dragging her into the circle of runes, past Tee's seemingly lifeless body. Clawing fruitlessly at Mordred's hands, Ruby started to laugh.
She had foreseen this, hadn't she? She had scryed it in the hallway with Tee months ago? Seeing was as useless as she had thought it was ― no matter what traps she saw or what they did to avoid it, they were fated to fall into them.
How can we run from it? It's useless!
No use in fighting. She might as well be in the clutches of the Dementors. This seemed like one of their misery-induced nightmares, anyway. Ruby watched Harry's unmoving body, seeming to float out of her own.
"Tell me what she did to him, to me!"
The wand between her eyes. Mounting pressure. Pale silver, like Dumbledore's Pensieve, swirling shapes solidifying around her. The dungeon room was gone, melted away.
"Lily."
Ruby turned, her feet scuffing softly on the carpet. It was James, leaning in the doorframe of the nursery. The alphabet poster was still tacked to the wall; the ceiling still intact.
Calm filled her, and then dread followed it. How close were her parents to dying? It was long after Sirius's memory; Lily's hair was dull and the skin around her eyes purple with lack of sleep.
"Lily, it's late," James tried again when she didn't respond.
Finally, Lily looked up from the work spread in front of her. The crib wasn't standing where Ruby remembered it. In its place, a chalked-out circle of runes had been etched on the floor, the candles flickering around it illuminating the white patterns with a soft glow.
"You should get some rest," said James softly.
Lily shook her head, running her hands shakily down her legs, leaving ten white, powdery streaks.
"How can I rest, knowing he's coming for us?"
"Peter won't betray us," said James, his tone resolute and posture certain, with a slight anger in his voice, as if annoyed that she had even suggested it.
Ruby's eyes burned, and she tasted acid in the back of her mouth.
"And what if something, anything goes wrong?" asked Lily. When James didn't respond, instead watching her with an anxious gaze, she dusted her hands, white powder flying in a chalky cloud.
Now, James sagged against the doorframe, his glasses sliding down his nose. Something grim flickered across his face, and for that brief moment, he did look almost exactly like Harry.
"I wish you'd just tell me what you're doing!" His voice rose in irritation. "You never tell me anything!"
"I'm an Unspeakable," said Lily, sweeping past him and down the stairs. "That's the job, don't act like you don't know that."
James took off down the stairs after her, having to go two steps at a time to match her near-flight. "Well, it's changed you, and not for the better."
Turning at the foot of the stairs to glare up at him, folding her arms, Lily spat: "This war has changed us all, James."
"I know."
He reached out to her, almost fearful. "Please. It's eating you inside, I can tell, and I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. Slinking around at three in the morning, covering the house in runes with no explanation ― I'm just worried about you!"
Lily sighed, posture sagging. She stepped forward, draping her arms over James's shoulders, fingers lacing, leaning her head against hers. To Ruby's surprise, she seemed to look across space and time into her daughter's eyes, and she felt her own lips shape out Lily's words.
"Old magic, James, older and greater and stronger and truer than the Fidelius, older than anything we know. Blood of the mother, willingly given... that's all I can tell you."
He stepped out of the embrace, holding her at arms' length, searching her face as if hoping to find an answer inscribed under her eyebrows or in the hollows of her cheeks. When none appeared, he asked:
"All you can tell me, or all you will?"
Lily smiled wryly. "Is there a difference?"
Something yanked on her hair, the same sensation of a Pensieve viewing ending, but this time it was real. The dungeon room burst into full, firelit colour around her, Harry and Tee's bodies strewn on the floor, Mordred's hand still gripping her hair. Tears beaded in her eyes, threatening to fall. She would not cry in front of him, and she would not show weakness. She would not show him fear. Instead, Ruby stared at Harry, still breathing, still moving, just barely. Not dead.
Stay alive.
He had to stay alive long enough for someone to find them; to do that, she had to be strong; she had to stall Mordred for as long as possible.
Her respite ended. Mordred jerked her head back, forcing her to stare up at him, at his terrible cold eyes, like Pensieve liquid made solid.
"Useless," he murmured, his voice equal parts hate and wonder. "How does that Mudblood manage to evade me at every turn?"
The pain shooting through every hair follicle was nearly unbearable; he had pulled her head back so far that she could barely breathe or swallow the saliva in her mouth.
"Same way you clawed your way to the top, filthy boy, Muggle founding," spat Ruby.
Now, Mordred's eyes lit with fury. For a second, Ruby feared he really would kill her.
Then, he released the grip on her hair and spun away, laughing softly. In the next second, he whirled around in a billow of robes, advancing towards her.
Ruby did not run. There was no point.
"Did you know," began Mordred, in the arrogant, instructive tone that she knew so well, "that the minds of magical children are excellent mediums? Of course, your natural gift will only enhance the scrying. The only downside is that this can only be a one-time thing. Minds are just such... delicate scrying instruments."
"What do you mean?"
Despite herself, Ruby had begun to tremble. She knew what he planned to do. She knew, but she wouldn't believe it. She refused.
"I mean that I will teach you the true meaning of scrying in the spirit vision."
He gripped her chin in an unbearably cold hand, forcing her to stare up into his eyes.
I mustn't, I mustn't. He'll drive me mad. Her breaths were short and panicked, forcing more air into her lungs to give her the strength to run. She was a rabbit caught in a trap, and she could not even gnaw her own leg off to escape.
Never look into the eyes of a Legilimens, the warning in her head chanted, and she screwed her eyes shut.
"Alu," whispered Mordred, and everything in her body went limp, her eyes fluttering open. Again, she felt as if she were falling, this time not into a Pensieve or a Legilimens' eyes, but deeper into the dungeons, deep into the Earth, sinking out of her body and past the fiery core, emerging like a newly formed volcano and falling yet again into the cold, fathomless darkness of space. The Earth spun away from her, and as she fell, she saw civilisations rise and fall, great cities built and burnt, right back to the primaeval beginnings of humankind.
Thousands upon thousands of lifetimes thundered through her mind. But it did not stop there; she seemed to see the entirety of human existence grow more and more insignificant amongst the humming, graceful dance of the planets of every star system, of supernovae and black holes...
A great, intense feeling of meaningfulness and meaninglessness filled her; she felt pulled in every direction, tugged on by millions and billions of subatomic particles twinkling merrily all around her. She felt as if she could just melt out of herself, become nothing more than starlit dust scattered in a nebula.
"Then tell me!" came a thunderous voice. "Tell me how this ends!"
Ruby opened her eyes and saw, not with her first sight, but her Second. With that sight, even the death and birth of galaxies were trivial to her. Billions of years, billions of light-years, lay around her, the complexities of human struggle for power so infinitesimal that the question was almost incomprehensibly stupid to her all-seeing Sight.
But still, the answer came.
The shadows douse, but yet the fire burns, she gasped out. But Death shall not be satisfied until he has crossed his waters. Bound by mother's blood, he and Death walk side by side. Should it come, the end of the eldest at the hands of his brother will be his pride.
"No more riddles, Seer! Speak plainly!"
Her mind lurched to obey the command, but then her world became blank and fuzzy, like television static.
She heard shouting, voices from far away, garbled and indistinguishable.
Before the warm, thankful darkness cradled her in its arms, the last thing she thought was, Divination is a woolly subject.
At first, only groggy, sluggish thoughts came.
Where am I?
I must have fallen and hit my head?
Or maybe I'm still dreaming.
Harry decided to stick with that one; it seemed to be the most hopeful alternative. But it didn't explain why he was still in the dungeon room, engulfed in darkness and the ominous, creaking sounds of the artifice breaking down.
"Here," offered a voice, a hand dangling above him somewhere in the darkness, only barely lit by the last few flickering sconces.
Gratefully, he took the hand, stumbling to his feet.
"Thanks," said Harry breathlessly, turning to his rescuer, a man in dark robes, a wand in his hand, breathing hard and seemingly staring into space. He squinted in the dim light, trying to make out the man's face.
"Sirius! What's — what's going on?"
But he had no chance to hear an answer or to ask Sirius anything else, for the wizard bounded out of the gaping hole in the wall, wand drawn. Shouts rang out, the lights of curses whizzing through the darkness of the dungeon hallway.
Harry squinted through the hole, but he couldn't see much. Come to think of it, he couldn't see much in here, either. The fires had gone out, but he could hear the artifice, the rattling sounds growing louder and more violent every second.
"Lumos!"
At once, two wands lying on the floor glittered, filling the room with an eerie, bluish light. Harry's heart dropped as two figures lying lifeless on the floor were illuminated, one covered in dust, one in a heap beside the rune circle, face obscured by hair.
He can't have killed her, Harry reasoned as he crossed the room. He said he would let Voldemort do it.
It was a feeble hope, the intentions of an enemy, but it was enough to keep his shoulders straight and his feet moving.
"Ruby," he managed to get out, grabbing her shoulder and shaking it. No response. "Ruby!"
Her red-rimmed eyes were still unseeing. Fixed. No, not—
It felt like someone had driven a knife between his ribs. Struggling through the panic, he reached for her wrist, fumbling for a pulse.
There was a heartbeat. Harry allowed himself a cold, shaky sigh of relief. But she probably needed help and fast. How would he get to the Hospital Wing with her? He didn't know how to conjure a stretcher or—
Just then, the artifice made a low, groaning noise and expelled a puff of acrid black smoke that sent him into an eye-watering coughing fit.
That is not good.
"BOOM!"
A deafening crack rent the room, every loose cog, chain, or wire resounding with a harsh jingle. That could only mean one thing.
It was about to blow.
He barely had time to throw up a Shield Charm before the barely-attenuated force of the explosion sent him flying into the hallway along with a spray of splintered machinery. Two hard thumps told him that Ruby and Riddle had fallen there, too.
For a second, complete darkness enveloped him and then receded, pain stinging his skull and his spine; Harry realised the blow must have knocked him unconscious.
Something warm and wet dripped down the side of his hand. Gingerly, Harry cleared the area around him of metal shards as best as he could and got to his feet.
Just as Harry started to get his bearings, he heard the sounds of duelling and loud footfalls coming closer. Then, as they turned the corner, a ricochet of light followed, casting the three figures into stark focus.
Mordred fought both Remus and Sirius, his face alight with fury. He spun on his heel and reappeared behind Sirius, the latter's curse flying harmlessly through the air.
"What?"
Remus and Sirius turned to face Mordred, wands raised defensively.
"It can't be," said Remus, his voice shaky.
None of them had seen Harry crouched in the darkness.
"How did he break the Apparition ward?" Sirius turned to Remus, his wand still trained on Mordred. "That's impossible! It's ancient! A thousand years old! Tens of thousands of people have tried and failed!"
Mordred shook his head slowly. "You managed to break one protection ward, Black, and you presume to have complete understanding of what is possible? Let me teach you the error of your ways."
Before Harry could grasp what exactly was going on, Mordred Disapparated again with a quiet 'pop!.' A cold, long-fingered hand had grasped the back of his collar, and Harry's heart leapt in his throat. He reached for Ruby's wand, but Mordred had already started to turn on his heel again.
Harry saw Sirius's face in a blurry smear and heard him scream out something, a sickly yellow light filling his vision. The impact knocked him away from Mordred; the latter had landed hard, sprawling somewhere amongst the debris field from the artifice.
"Harry!" Remus called out, extending a hand.
Eager to put distance between himself and Mordred, Harry started up the hallway but felt his legs suddenly lock together. In the next instant, Mordred was behind Harry again, reaching for him.
"Diffindo!"
Mordred leaned out of the way of the Cutting Charm, the spell sailing just under his wrist, drawing blood. With a growl, he spun towards Sirius and Remus once more.
"Do not interfere," he said quietly, "and I shall spare you."
Sirius leapt forward, a swarm of conjured wasps erupting out the tip of his wand with a metallic, droning hiss. Flicking Harry's wand, Mordred transfigured them into pebbles, rolling harmlessly at his feet.
"More parlour tricks? How the mighty House of Black has fallen."
"You're right," said Sirius loudly. "I was holding back before." He cast a long, sideways glance at Remus, then lunged again, the ground thundering below him. Spikes whizzed out from the walls on either side of Mordred, forcing him to shield himself. They hovered in the air briefly before changing course and hurtling towards Sirius.
"Watch out!" Harry called as Sirius attempted to deflect them, crying out and clutching the shoulder of his wand arm.
Remus had appeared beside Harry, starting to turn on his heel.
"Wait, Ruby's down here too, I can't leave her!"
"We'll go and come back, Sirius can't hold him off for long."
"I―"
Sirius cried out again, both Remus and Harry turning to watch helplessly as he rose into the air, blood streaming down his arms and dripping from his fingers, body contorting, before being flung down the long, dark hallway.
Then, Mordred turned on them.
I did that, thought Harry, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. I hesitated. If I hadn't, Sirius would be―
"Get back, Harry!" shouted Remus frantically, turning to face Mordred. "We have to go, now!"
He had his hand on Harry's shoulder ― he'd started to turn ― and then, in a flash of red light, he slumped to the ground.
Mordred sighed, taking in the scene before him with a satisfied air.
"Don't worry," he said. "I haven't killed your friends; that would be wasteful. Besides, having a hand in the demise of the Boy-Who-Lived is punishment enough, don't you think, Harry?"
All the blood had drained from Harry's face, the strength sapped from his limbs. But still, he forced himself into a duelling position, wand at the ready.
A dull crackle resounded through the hallway. All of the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up as the magic thundered through him like a burst of static.
What's that?
Between the strange familiarity of the experience and the defeated expression on Mordred's face, it wasn't hard to narrow down: The Apparition wards were back on. Relief flooded through Harry; he could barely believe it.
He'd survived.
The older wizard's face lit, again, with fury, his colourless eyes livid in his alabaster face. His chest heaved up and down with frustration; Harry backed away slightly, never moving his wand or his eyes off Mordred.
"I will kill you now," said Mordred fiercely. "I am his will and therefore his hand. That should be enough."
Harry gritted his teeth, the wand trembling in his hand. He would defend himself. He wasn't going to just stand there and die.
"Avada―"
"Exp―"
"So we meet again, Tom."
Both Mordred and Harry turned, neither dropping their wands or their defensive postures.
"Professor Dumbledore," Mordred acknowledged, turning towards the challenger, his voice tinged with barely-concealed, mocking spite. "I did not expect to see you."
Dumbledore stood behind them, hands folded in front of him, seemingly bathed in white light at the edges, silver-robed and luminescent. He strode forward with the flicker of a beatific smile.
A flicker of a smile passed over Dumbledore's face. "I had been under a very curious sleep, although, as you can see, I was revived. But these are not the matters I came to discuss."
In a single, fluid motion, Dumbledore drew his wand and began to carry out the etiquette of a duel, bowing his head. After a moment's delay, Mordred followed suit. All of the static had gone out of the air; it was heavy, clammy, grim.
"Finally," murmured Mordred as Dumbledore advanced. "A challenge."
"The same to you," Dumbledore acknowledged, beginning to circle him. "But I must warn you, only one of us will leave this duel with his life."
It was Mordred's turn to smile, his white teeth luminescent in the flickering lights. "You mean to destroy me, then, old man. Kill me?"
"Oh, there are far worse things than death, Tom. That, you will never understand."
A billowing gust of flame poured from Dumbledore's wand, encircling Mordred and filling the hallway with light and heat. For a moment, he was bathed completely in fire, but then the blaze snuffed out, turning to ash. From the dust cloud, Mordred emerged, stained with soot but completely unscathed.
Will nothing kill him? thought Harry, backing away.
The ground rumbled, and bronze chains, waving like vines, moved to encircle Mordred once more, but he blasted them into smithereens, continuing to advance.
Harry was almost afraid to see Dumbledore, wand dangling at his side, unshielded, strangely detached.
A jet of green light flew towards him, and Harry cried out a warning, but with an almost unthinking flick of Dumbledore's wand, the patch of floor in front of him shot up into a sharp, jagged barrier, bursting into dust on impact.
"I see your plot, now, Tom, and it was indeed very foolish of you," Dumbledore reprimanded. For an instant, they were not two mortal enemies but a teacher and his chastised student.
"You may see now," said Mordred with great dignity, "but you were too late to prevent it."
He sent another Killing Curse at Dumbledore, but this one flew past its target, hitting the wall in a spray of splintered masonry.
Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the debris scattered over the floor rose into the air with a low hum, whirling like a blizzard and then hurtling towards Mordred. Mordred's wandwork was faster than Harry's eyes could ever hope to keep track of, doing his best to Vanish or shield himself from the debris field. But when the cloud of objects settled, he was cut up all over, strange, pearlescent liquid weeping from every wound.
Suddenly, Mordred whirled around and seized Harry, who tried to pull away, but the latter held fast, clutching Harry in front of him like a shield. Harry struggled in his grasp, but it was futile; he couldn't even get at his wand. The arm pressed against Harry's neck tightened, and he gasped, scratching at Mordred, trying to free himself in vain.
"You've lost, Dumbledore."
Anguish bloomed on Dumbledore's face and erupted in Harry's own heart, his emotions choking him even more the steady pressure of Mordred's arm. He couldn't breathe. The tip of Mordred's wand bore into the side of Harry's skull, and Harry's scar burned with pain. His nerves lit on fire, and his head spun, the hallway growing blurry.
"After all this trouble, what should have been over fifteen years ago is done. Harry Potter is—"
The pain receded as quickly as it had come on, a sudden respite from the crushing pressure in his head. As Harry's vision cleared, he saw Dumbledore before him, slowly lowering his wand.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up; he glanced over his shoulder.
Mordred's staring eyes remained fixed at the ceiling, his face permanently frozen with a look of arrogant triumph, white shimmering rivulets drying hard and crystalline on his cheeks.
Dead.
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Something further down the corridor emitted a low, piteous groan. At first, Harry thought he had imagined it, but then he heard it again, more clearly than before.
Ruby!
"Lumos," he whispered, illuminating his surroundings. She wasn't more than a few feet away, lying amongst the shattered remains of the artifice and stirring slightly. When Harry knelt beside her, she opened her eyes, strangely clouded and unseeing, and did not respond when he said her name.
What had happened after Mordred had Stunned him? Could he have tortured her to insanity, like what the Lestranges did to Neville's parents? Harry felt bile begin to rise in his throat, his body numb with panic.
"We must get her to the Hospital Wing," said Dumbledore, startling Harry. His expression was just as grim as it had been when he was duelling Mordred.
"And what about..."
Harry's gaze fell onto Riddle's grey-coated body. It was unlikely that he was still alive, wasn't it?
"We'd better go fetch Sirius," said a voice from somewhere in the darkness, getting to their feet amongst the jingle and clatter of the debris.
A spray of astral light bubbled out into the hallway, revealing Remus Lupin, wand held aloft, a worried furrow between his eyebrows. He looked down at the body in front of his feet.
"I see that problem was... taken care of."
Remus turned around, catching sight of Ruby, still only barely conscious; he crouched down beside Harry, watching her flickering eyelids.
"What happened to her?" asked Remus.
"I don't know," said Harry, his voice high and panicky. For some reason, he felt out of breath, taking big gulps of air to try and steady himself. "He—he Stunned me, and when Sirius found me, she was like this."
"The sooner she is brought to Madam Pomfrey, the better," Dumbledore interjected, still unusually cold and stern. It was as if killing Mordred had taken a great deal out of him. "Harry and I will locate Sirius. Remus, will you..."
"Yes."
With a heavy sigh, Remus got to his feet, picking up Ruby and making his way up and out of the dark hallway. Harry watched him go, feeling horribly guilty about everything that had happened, but in particular, the state his sister was now in. What had happened to her? What had Mordred done?
It felt like the end of the Chamber fiasco, like a false, hollow victory, with greater problems brewing just under the surface.
Something popped into existence in the hallway, startling Harry. Wordlessly, Dumbledore levitated Riddle's dust-coated body onto one stretcher, an empty one still hovering beside him.
"We must find Sirius."
Harry tried to say something, but his throat was strangely tight, and he found himself unable to speak, so he simply nodded. Together, they began to make their way up the hallway, up into the light. It felt as if it were blinding him, searing his eyes, and he was forced to squint as he stumbled out of the subterranean corridor.
Where was Sirius? How far had he been flung?
The sound of Dumbledore's footsteps ceased.
"I can't stand," came a weak, choked voice, followed by a dark chuckle. "I've practically broken every bone before, but this — this is something special. Please tell me—"
"Riddle's dead," said Harry, turning towards Sirius. "Are you alright?"
He chanced a look, then quickly went back to squinting. All of the blood had drained from Sirius's face; his legs were twisted at odd angles.
"I'd beg to differ."
From the vitriol in his voice, Harry assumed he must be looking at the occupant of the other stretcher.
"We will discuss his fate later," said Dumbledore in a diplomatic tone. "Now, we must attend to immediate matters and then to the loss of the artifice.
"Ah." Sirius sounded as grim as he looked.
The walk to the Hospital Wing was long and quiet. Dumbledore and Sirius were discussing the artifice in low tones, the latter's voice wavering from the pain. For his part, Harry could only think of Ruby's strange state of half-consciousness. Surely, by the time they reached the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey would have fixed her, she would be awake.
The stretchers went in first, and Dumbledore and Harry followed. No sooner had he stepped over the threshold than a blur of bushy hair hurtled towards him, nearly bowling him over.
"Harry! We were so worried, we thought—"
"I knew you'd be alright," said Ron, though the relief was clear in his grin and the set of his shoulders.
Harry returned the hug a little half-heartedly, peering out behind Hermione's shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse. Madam Pomfrey was busy assessing her two new patients, but one bed had the covers drawn tight around it, clearly occupied.
"How is she?"
"Harry," Hermione started in a placating tone. "You have to understand, she's been—"
Ignoring his friends' protests and obeying instead the queasy sensation in his stomach, Harry pushed past them, barely noticing Anthony, Lavender, and Parvati clustered around the bed, and shoved the curtains aside.
Ruby lay, still unmoving, her heavily bandaged hands crossed over her stomach, another strip of bandage wrapped tightly around her eyes. The veins in her arms and face stood out, blood-red spiderwebs against her skin.
"—burnt," Hermione finished, peering worried at Harry.
She wasn't like that in the hallway, was she? Maybe it was too dark... How did I not notice?
Harry felt himself start to hyperventilate, his palms growing slick and cold and clammy. How could I have let this happen?
"Harry."
It was almost her voice, but not quite, with strange, overlapping sounds as if there were a muttering crowd in the background. Still, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive, at least partially lucid. Maybe it would be alright.
"That's the first time she's spoken since she got here," said Lavender under her breath, appearing on the other side of Harry.
"What is it?" Harry blurted out. "Did he hurt you? What happened?"
Ruby was silent; Harry sagged, wilting like an unwatered plant. He turned to the small crowd behind him, taking in their tired, drawn faces.
"What happened to her? What's going on?"
"We don't know." That was Anthony. "Those burns, Madam Pomfrey said she'd never seen anything like them. She said they look like—"
"Osculum divinitatis," said Parvati, shifting nervously from one foot to another.
"That's not real," Ron scoffed, "that's an old wives' tale like the rest of Divination."
Lavender and Parvati bristled, glaring at Ron and then glancing sideways at each other, but held their tongues.
"Right," said Harry, trying to process the information. "What's ocular—"
"Osculum, not ocular. Osculum divinitatis," Hermione corrected. "It's a legend from back when it wasn't uncommon to use wizards or witches under the age of majority as scrying mediums; it was said that it was impossible to hold that much information in your body and remain unscathed, that the power would burn you. "
"So you think, those burns, that he forced her..." He was unable to tear his eyes away from the bandages. The thought of Mordred turning her into a human crystal ball and permanently damaging her made his blood boil.
Harry's whole body was shaking; he was glad, gladder than anything, that Mordred was already dead.
"Be quiet, now, and let her rest," said Madam Pomfrey, bustling in front of them and shutting the curtains with a snap.
Harry thought she seemed distinctly anxious. She turned to Harry with an uncharacteristic, furious air, like a mother cat guarding her kittens; he slowly and reluctantly turned away, sitting down heavily in a chair.
"Harry," said Ron quietly, and he was suddenly very distinctly aware of all the eyes on him. "Madam Pomfrey needs to have a look at you, too."
"I'm perfectly fine," Harry snapped. He had, in fact, forgotten about his neck — it must be bruised; his voice was hoarse, after all. "I didn't get burnt, I don't have any broken bones, I didn't get suffocated — it seems like all I can do is hide behind other people!"
"That's not true, Harry, I'm sure you—"
Frustrated, Harry shot to his feet, upsetting the chair, and stalked off towards one of the windows. To his displeasure, he found himself beside Riddle's bed. He had been magicked clean, although whether he was dead or alive was still unclear.
"I confess that I overheard your conversation."
Dumbledore had come to stand beside him, gazing out of the window; a serene, silver figure in the moonlit Hospital Wing. Was he the kindly Headmaster now, Harry wondered, or the Dark wizard-killer?
"Which part?" asked Harry.
"You are not a coward, Harry. And you are not responsible for what happened tonight. If any carry that guilt, it is I."
Somehow, the weight did not lift off of Harry's shoulders. How could it?
"He was going to kill me, and there wasn't anything I could do about it except put everyone else in danger." The very thought made him furious. Harry rolled his shoulders back and cleared his throat. He looked up at Dumbledore, meeting that steady, penetrating blue gaze. "I want to learn to duel, Professor. Properly. If Voldemort's going to keep coming after me, which he clearly is, then I need to be able to defend myself."
Dumbledore regarded him silently and intently; Harry wondered if he was using Legilimency or simply studying him.
"We cannot possibly hope that you will be a match for Voldemort, but, yes, I think that would be wise."
Both wizards resumed staring out at the grounds. Soon, the sun would start to rise, casting a new day on Hogwarts, a new beginning.
"Your friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, performed admirably," said Dumbledore all of a sudden. "It is because of them that Sirius, Remus, and I were able to come to your rescue. I know that you feel alone in what you are going through, and you are in many ways, but do not push them away, Harry. Of that, I implore you."
"I won't push them away. I promise."
Now, the flicker of a genuine smile ghosted over Dumbledore's face. "That is good. Now, about..."
Harry's eyes darted to Riddle, lying as motionless and peaceful as Snow White in her glass coffin. "He's alive?"
"He cast a spell upon himself to stop his breathing just in time, it would appear. As such, we have time and opportunity to discuss our next steps."
"You mean about him being a Horcrux?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, amusedly taking in Harry's worried expression. "I do know that you were present at our meeting."
It seemed so long ago, now, so deceptively simple, hiding under the Invisibility Cloak with Ruby, blissfully unaware of the plot beneath their feet.
"You don't need the basilisk anymore, then, since Mordred — the locket, I mean — is dead." For some reason, Harry felt a strange, bitter reluctance at this realisation, pulling at him like a thread held taut between two great weights.
Dumbledore turned to Riddle, looking sadly down at his former student.
Something occurred to him. "Professor, can you pay back a life debt? Because, if he owed Ruby one, that means I owe him one, too. So, if I ask you not to kill him now..."
"Matters of that sort are strange, ancient magic, and nigh impossible to quantify. But if you feel it is the right thing to do, then you must."
With a solemn nod, Dumbledore turned to Riddle once more, lifted his wand, and said: "Rennervate."
The effect was instant. Riddle opened his eyes, blinked slowly, as if taking what must have seemed a sudden change of surroundings.
"So it's over," he said, gazing up at the ceiling.
A feeling of fury seized Harry once more. He must have known what would happen that night; he must be responsible, at least in part.
"Is it?" asked Dumbledore, lifting an eyebrow.
In response, Riddle turned his head to look at the Headmaster, his face twisting with irritation.
"I have already promised not to harm you," Dumbledore supplied in a light tone.
Harry didn't know if it was as convincing as Dumbledore might have hoped. Riddle let out a short, huffy sort of breath and seemed to resolve to say nothing more of the matter.
"Your artifice is broken."
"It was hard to miss. Now, I fear, the Ministry shall descend on us."
It was clear that was not a thrilling prospect to Dumbledore; Harry shared the sentiment.
Still, a thought came to him.
"Why can't you just build another artifice?" Harry suggested.
At that, Riddle let out a mocking laugh.
"Did you really think that even Dumbledore could build something of that complexity in a few months, no less? No. That artifice was built first in part by Helena Ravenclaw and added onto for centuries," he finished.
Harry wished someone had smacked the contempt off of Riddle's face. Dumbledore, for his part, did not look impressed by his show of history knowledge.
"Quite. It is irreplaceable and irreparable. And in addition, I again must locate a Defence professor."
"Can't Sirius..."
"There will be an end to Professor Gloucester, I am afraid. The broken bones are easily healed, but Sirius unfortunately also has curse damage."
Harry glanced over at Sirius, who was being attended to by Madam Pomfrey, but Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We will all talk later. For now, it is time to be with your friends, Harry."
Returning Dumbledore's advice with a wry smile, Harry shuffled off in the direction pointed out. Everyone was talking in low tones, but they abruptly stopped as Harry grew near.
"Are you alright?" asked Ron, as Harry sat down in the loose circle they'd formed around Ruby's bed. "I mean, I know you're definitely not alright, but—"
"I said I'm fine, Ron!"
Harry was distinctly and painfully aware of everyone staring at him.
"So," Anthony began, leaning forward. "We don't understand what happened, who's— OW, Hermione!"
"I'll tell you later." Harry wasn't quite sure if Dumbledore had come up with a cover story yet, after all, and he was too tired to possibly come up with a sufficient explanation right now.
"The whole school was poisoned!" Anthony blurted out, throwing his hands up. "Does he even know that?"
"We have reason to suspect the confetti from yesterday was tainted," Hermione offered, crossing her arms and glowering at Anthony.
Yesterday! Harry could hardly believe that disastrous Quidditch match was yesterday. It had seemed then that the worst things in the world were Gryffindor losing, embarrassing himself in front of Cho and Cedric, and—
"Theodore Nott!" he burst out.
His suspicious behaviour — their altercation — Mordred crediting him as an accomplice. Where was he now?
Hermione took in a shocked gasp, the expression mirrored on everyone else's face. "He'll be expelled!" she said in a horror-stuck tone.
"More than expelled, I hope," Ron grumbled.
Everyone was still staring intently and expectantly at him.
"Look, I can't tell you anymore, not until Dumbledore figures out what to do!"
Anthony cocked his head to the side. "I take, it, then, that the problem starts with a vee, ends with a tee..."
"You-Know-Who, here, at Hogwarts?" asked Parvati, with an expression of incredulity.
If only she knew, thought Harry.
A cold, uncomfortable silence fell over them. Some shuffled their feet or shifted in their seats.
"More likely than you think," Ron muttered, but Harry didn't think anyone else had heard him.
Harry's head spun. He still couldn't fathom everything that had happened in the past few hours. It would take them weeks or even months to puzzle out the full picture. Unless Riddle (the younger) had been in on the entire thing, and if that was the case, they had much bigger problems.
"Does Ruby really have, er, osculum divinitatis?" asked Harry, both eager to know and to change the subject. "Has she said anything else?"
"Madam Pomfrey says it can't be ruled out," Lavender piped up, brushing a hand anxiously through her curls. "She might get less disorientated after a while."
"And... there are ways to fix it, if it is?"
The circle was silent. Harry couldn't stand their pitying eyes, so he resolved to stare at the floor between his feet.
There has to be. Once upon a time, Harry hadn't believed in magic, or at least, good magic. He'd thought that what he could do was solely horrible and dark and destructive. But then, he'd learnt what his mother had done to save him, that it was possible to prevent or at least forestall the inevitable, to rage, rage against the dying of the light. And no matter what — whether it was a leaf from a tree at the end of the world or a draught from a spring guarded by ten thousand Dementors — he'd find a way, so help him.
"We don't know," said Hermione. "But we'll check the library first thing after breakfast, Harry, I promise, we all will. And now that the seal on Hogwarts is broken, I can order books!"
"Merlin help us, she can order books now," Ron muttered, and the entire group erupted into loud, nervous laughter. Harry joined in, and strangely, he felt less empty.
It would get better, Harry promised himself, as the coral rays of dawn began to stain the pale sky. He swore it. It had to.
Apologies about the delay, I didn't mean for the cliffhanger to be a month long. But, you know, another 1.5x length finale, life stuff, et cetera...
Anyway, I'm happy to finally have finished Year 4, especially given my unplanned hiatus halfway through.
Thank you, again, for reading this far, and I hope to see you again for Year 5 (A Common Adversary). The ETA on that, I'm not exactly sure, but definitely sometime in the summer.
Mordred, the inhabitant of Slytherin's Locket, was defeated, but not before sowing his own legacy of chaos: forcing Ruby Potter to make a prophecy, grievously injuring Sirius Black, and destroying the artifice that keeps Hogwarts separate from the rest of the world. The Ministry of Magic crumbles further as Umbridge rises; a strange army emerges to snuff out the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry Potter is drawn to his fate; T. M. Riddle's remains uncertain. A confrontation approaches.