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Chapter Twenty-Nine—Defeat
The basilisk is enormous.
Aradia does not allow herself to be intimidated, however. This is the kind of battle she has trained for, and some of the wizards she has hunted to feed the Suns are more formidable enemies than this.
Besides, there is the rooster.
As soon as Aradia sees the great head looming above her, she casts a mild Stinging Hex on the rooster. The bird shakes his feathers with indignation and opens his beak.
And the basilisk turns and ducks into a tunnel.
Aradia stares, even as the rooster's crow rings out through the Chamber of Secrets. She would not have thought a great snake smart enough to use the shelter of a tunnel against its enemy. Is it because this particular one is old? Or because it is Slytherin's basilisk and thus bred to be more intelligent than the norm?
The stone wall beside her splinters and goes flying in great chunks.
Aradia goes rolling in response, hearing scales rasping against the stone all about her. The fangs strike at the floor in the same moment, but she has already scattered out of reach, and readied her wand.
A flap of the basilisk's tail has crushed the rooster.
Aradia finds herself smiling, the wide, wild expression that no one but some of her more challenging victims ever gets to see. So the basilisk is clever enough to fight back, and she must face a real battle?
She can do that.
She conjures a mirror immediately and backs away, into a smaller corner where the basilisk will find it more difficult to strike, and tilts the glass carefully back and forth. She does not want to be Petrified, but the tendency of the beast so far does suggest that it is not interested in eating frozen prey. She would take it if it were her only chance of survival.
Aradia does not think it will be.
The great snake twists and turns around her corner. The stone here is thicker than in the wall that it broke, and Aradia thinks that it may also be reluctant to take such a blow on its nose and face as it did when it charged the wall. Her mirror reveals the twinkle of a drop of blood before she angles it away from the basilisk's gaze.
The new position of the glass reveals something small and sharp lying on the ground. Aradia narrows her eyes before she realizes what it is.
A broken fang.
Aradia smiles and Summons it with a wordless charm. At the same time, the basilisk snaps its tail around the corner, trying to crush her as it did the rooster.
Aradia again rolls, and grasps the fang with one hand as it comes flying into her grasp. She grimaces. Changing her nails to claws is a disadvantage at the moment, leaving her grip on the fang uncertain.
On the other hand, it means that she can grip it closer to the tip than she otherwise would be able to, and sinking her claws into the fang's smooth surface gives her a way to hold it.
I read once that a basilisk's venom is so potent that it can destroy many things. Let us see.
Aradia retreats into another corner while the basilisk hisses aloud in what seems to be rage. Aradia can see a bloody slice down the center of its tail, and smiles to herself. The basilisk didn't achieve what it wanted when it struck the stone pillar, and will probably be more cautious when it comes to approaching her new hiding place.
Indeed, the basilisk lets its belly almost touch the floor as it flows towards her, and Aradia judges the distance and thinks of the spells she knows—ducking her head to avoid meeting its gaze directly—and knows she can do this.
But it will be easier with another fang.
She casts the incantation silently, head ducked, just in case the basilisk would understand the Latin and be able to writhe out of the way. But the Cutting Curse flies true, and slices a second fang from the top of the basilisk's jaw.
The hiss this time is more like a squeal of pain, and she sends the mirror flying to shatter and distract the creature as she Summons the second fang.
Although fear is pulling at her, Aradia takes the moment to ready herself, fangs gripped in her hands. She will only have one chance at this, and the basilisk would not necessarily kill her with a well-aimed strike.
But she will die, sooner or later, if she cannot avoid its gaze.
As the sound of the scales rasping against the stone overcomes even the hissing, Aradia leans around the stone pillar she's been sheltering behind and casts the fangs into the air. Her spell hits them a second later.
The fangs spiral through the air, and take the basilisk in the eyes.
It tosses its head back and forth, tail lashing in what looks like agony. Aradia takes the chance to glance up and make sure its eyes are ruined red pits pulsing with black and yellow liquid, and then she rushes forwards.
The vibrations of her charge are covered by the lashing of the basilisk's tail. Aradia leaps lightly into the air and comes down on the serpent's spine, digging her claws in to avoid being thrown as it begins thrashing with a new purpose, trying to get her off.
A basilisk's hide is tougher than anything you can cast at it.
But only the hide.
Aradia strikes down with her claws, digging in deep, not moving now, only digging and clawing and wounding. The basilisk gives another hiss like a shriek. It doesn't matter. What matters is the goal in front of her, and the need to hurt the thing.
And the hide gives way in a long strip. She can make out flesh and muscle underneath. That is all she needs.
She jams her wand down into the wound and speaks the words with all the conviction she can muster. "Avada Kedavra!"
The green light gives only a muffled flash, buried in the basilisk's hide as it is. But the serpent tilts back and then crashes slowly towards the floor. Aradia leaps clear, tucking and rolling in a ball as she hits the stone. She knows she will hurt later, but for now, the rush of adrenaline cradles her.
She comes back to one knee and stares intently as she watches the basilisk quiver and then lie still.
She remains quiet for some time after that, of course, poised and ready to move. The basilisk was clever enough to dodge down a tunnel and avoid the rooster's cry. She would not put it past the creature to feign death and draw her in.
But when nothing has moved for ten minutes, and a charm she casts to detect breathing flashes only an image of herself before her eyes, Aradia at last comes back to her feet. She's trembling, which is only just. She closes her eyes and bows her head for a moment.
She has defeated the basilisk. That is not the same as capturing the Heir of Slytherin. But she is sure that she can find the entrance to the Chamber that the Heir was using and wait there for them. After the battle she has just fought, it will seem easy.
A small smile pulls at her mouth, and Aradia paces over to study the dead basilisk. She knows potions brewers who will pay hefty amounts of Galleons for the blood and the venom, and she can envision several places to sell the scales. And she will keep the fangs for herself. They are useful in only a few potions, which is why they are not in as much demand as the venom and blood, but those are the kinds of potions that she brews.
Now, Harry and Blaise are so much safer than they were.
"Mother."
It is the only word Blaise speaks, the only one he thinks he can speak. But he doesn't manage to temper his rush forwards, or the way he flings his arms around her. Mother wraps her arms gently around him.
"Be careful of my left side," she murmurs. "Some of the blood splashed there, and it might be poisonous."
Blaise doesn't intend to move so that his arm comes into contact with her left side. All he wants to do is embrace her and remain still. Mother rocks him a little without moving much, humming a song under her breath that she used to soothe him to sleep when he was young.
"Aradia?"
Blaise looks up reluctantly. Of course Harry would want to make sure Mother is all right as well, but he doesn't want to pull back from her, doesn't want to do anything that would put distance between them right now.
"Come here, Harry," Mother says, and extends her arm. Harry comes over to nestle underneath it, staring up with wide eyes. Artemis coils up on his shoulder, and Blaise is doubly glad that they met Mother in the corridor near where she began her hunt instead of somewhere public. "The basilisk is dead. It cannot harm you now."
"And the Heir of Slytherin?"
"I found the entrance that they must have been using," Mother murmurs, the dark smile Blaise loves darting across her face. "In a bathroom on the second floor, of all things. They left a clear trail in the muck of the pipe they used to slide down. I have placed a trap there, and I will go to watch over it soon myself. But I did want to greet you, and make sure that you knew I survived."
Blaise leans his head against her, and clings harder. Mother kisses his forehead, and then does the same thing to Harry.
Blaise thought once that he would be jealous if Mother ever had another child, or found a man she sincerely loves. Now, watching the way she treats Harry, he feels only a deep contentment. It is right that all three of them should be here, sharing her moment of triumph.
Harry glances up. There are light footsteps coming down the corridor. He and Blaise are hiding in an alcove near the second-floor bathroom that Aradia identified as the Heir's entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, playing Exploding Snap behind a silencing ward that Aradia set up. She promised that they could be there to see the Heir captured, although she also made them promise to run the moment they think they might be in danger.
Harry catches Blaise's eye. Blaise nods. Harry stands up and presses himself against the corner, peering around as carefully as he can.
He almost swears. A small red-haired girl with a black book in her hands is trotting into the bathroom.
"Isn't that Weasley's sister?" he breathes, so softly that only someone pressed as closely to him as Blaise is could hear. Blaise still presses closer, though. A pleasant shiver runs through Harry.
"Yes," Blaise says, sounding a little stunned. "Only that family has that shade of red hair. I can't believe that she would be powerful enough to Memory Charm Longbottom. Or that she would be Slytherin's Heir. Why wouldn't the rest of her family be able to access the Chamber, if that was the case?"
"I wonder if it's her."
"It has to be, doesn't it?"
Harry shakes his head, unable to put the suspicion swimming around in his head into words, and steps into the bathroom after her as gently as he dares. The girl is standing beside one of the sinks near the wall, and speaking in Parseltongue.
"Open. I command you!"
Harry shivers. He's never heard another human except Voldemort speak Parseltongue before, and so he doesn't know if the way this sounds wrong is just because of that. But it sure sounds like the girl isn't speaking in her own natural voice, even assuming that she is a Parselmouth for some reason.
The suspicion he was thinking about grows stronger.
The sink grinds aside, revealing a dark tunnel in the floor. The girl steps forwards and begins to walk into the tunnel.
Aradia's trap springs then. The air around the girl turns glassy, and cage bars shoot out of the stone and clang together around her. The girl screams and looks as if she's going to try and jump out, but another set of bars slides over her head. It's a perfect cube now, three sides made of magic and the fourth made of the stone floor.
The girl spins around. She's clutching the black book, and she sees Harry. Her eyes narrow, and she hisses, still in Parseltongue, "You should not be spying on me, the true Heir of Slytherin and descendant of the greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"
Harry swallows, his eyes locked on the book. Now that he's concentrating, he can practically see the swirls of Dark magic crawling off it. It's not that subtle, which makes him wonder how he missed it in the first place.
How other people managed to miss it in the first place.
Blaise's hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "I wouldn't spend too much time talking to her," he murmurs. "Whatever's happening with her, I don't think she's sane at the moment."
"I believe she is possessed," Aradia says, Levitating up the tunnel and landing beside the cage. The girl swings around and hisses wordlessly at her. "I have rarely felt an artifact so Dark."
Harry feels a squirm of horror in his stomach. Books can possess people? Is that the real reason they keep some of them sealed away in the Restricted Section?
"How did she get possessed?" Blaise asks, his eyes wide.
Aradia looks carefully at the girl. Then she casts a spell that flits past the cage bars and flips open the little black book. The girl doesn't seem to notice, hissing words at them that Harry is doing his best not to react to. "It appears that she wrote in it. That could create a sympathetic magic connection between them and enable the spirit or whatever else is in the book to reach out to her and begin to control her."
"Stupid," Blaise mutters.
Harry nods. He can't believe that she found a book that talked to her and didn't immediately take it to someone. He would do that, and he's barely been in the magical world for two years.
"Indeed," Aradia says. "Although I suspect we do not yet know all the circumstances." She steps back from the cage with a shake of her head and looks at Harry. "Will you inform the Headmaster about our capture of the Heir, Harry? I believe he would take the news best from you."
Harry half-smiles, imagining the Headmaster's reaction if either Aradia or Blaise came and knocked on his gargoyle. "Yeah, I'll try. But if he's not in his office or doesn't answer when I come?"
"Then we will march the girl through the school until we find him. This is his chance to handle it privately, and I assume he will want to, since the girl is a child of his allies."
Harry flashes a smile as he turns away. For the girl's sake, he does hope Dumbledore is in his office.
But he can't deny that part of him would be maliciously pleased for Weasley to have to see his sister paraded around and accused as the Heir of Slytherin, when he was so sure it was either Harry or Theo.
Albus lifts his head from the paperwork he's been frowning at for the last few minutes. There's something strange in the wording for some of the proposals before the Wizengamot this month, but he can't pinpoint it yet.
The wordless alarm that rings gently in his head when someone who doesn't know his password is waiting by the gargoyle is sounding now. Albus stands up. Honestly, a student will be a welcome distraction from this intransigent paperwork.
Fawkes gives a loud croon and flutters over to sit on Albus's shoulder. Albus smiles at him and tickles his breast feathers as he heads downwards.
"You want to come with me, then?"
Fawkes croons again when they reach the bottom of the staircase and see Harry waiting for them. Albus blinks and creases his face in as gentle and welcoming a smile as he can. "Mr. Potter?"
"Mrs. Zabini killed the basilisk and caught the Heir of Slytherin, sir."
Albus stares at him. Harry looks back with no sign that he's lying, although Albus doesn't skim his mind with Legilimency. There's too much chance that Aradia Zabini would notice that later.
And anyway, the statement itself was so flat and bald that Albus doesn't see how it could be a lie.
Except for the sheer incomprehensibility of it, of course.
"Excuse me," he says at last, when he realizes that Harry has begun to stare at him with some impatience. "Can you repeat what you said? Mrs. Zabini has killed the basilisk and captured the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Yes, sir. That's what I said. And she wanted me to bring you to her. I know that you'll be eager to see her work."
Harry's eyes glitter for a moment, as though he understands the confusion Albus is feeling and takes pleasure in it. He is considerably less innocent than Albus once assumed. He wonders if Sirius and Remus will be able to build a relationship with the boy at all.
But at the moment, the important thing is to see the Heir of Slytherin—or the person Mrs. Zabini has convinced herself is.
Albus hurries along behind Harry, discomposed. He wonders why Fawkes is trilling softly on his shoulder with no sign of agitation. Does that mean that Harry is telling the truth, or that there is no chance of the Heir attacking for other reasons?
Aradia glances up as Albus comes into the bathroom, following Harry. She hasn't once relaxed her guardianship of the girl, who's been hissing and spitting in unpleasant tones. She did cast a few detection charms on the book, but it didn't show itself to be any kind of common Dark object.
Then again, with the veneer of foulness rising from it, perhaps she should have known that it wouldn't be ordinary.
Albus goes still when he sees the girl and the book, staring hard. Aradia conceals her suspicion that he recognizes the latter. "This is Mr. Weasley's sister, Albus, from what Blaise has told me?"
"Yes," Albus says in a distracted voice. He has his phoenix on his shoulder, who tilts his head and croons. Aradia admires the creature without understanding that. "And I fear that the book is the cause of her behavior." He shakes off the trance that seems to have gripped him at the sight of the real Heir and turns to Aradia. "I must take her to the hospital wing, and take charge of the book."
Aradia nods. She has only one condition with releasing the Weasley girl into Albus's custody. "You will, of course, announce that it was not Harry or Theo or any Slytherin, for that matter, who was possessed by the book."
Albus hesitates. "The poor girl's privacy—what she would face if this gets out—"
"I am not asking you to announce her name, Albus. I am asking you to announce who it was not."
"The students may not believe me."
"They will if you speak with enough authority. Is there a reason that you are so reluctant to see Harry's name cleared? Mr. Nott's?"
"It was truly only Mr. Longbottom and a few other people who thought that. It is not a widespread perception."
"But you will still clear their names."
Albus turns his head and looks at Aradia.
Aradia looks back, with calm eyes and a steady smile, and Albus is the one who glances down first. He sighs and tugs his beard. "Of course, of course. I suppose it must be done. I hope that there will be no need to release Miss Weasley's name as, ah. Retaliation?"
Aradia can hear the echoes of thunder in that word, but she only smiles. "Of course not, Headmaster."
She knows that Blaise and Harry will make sure Longbottom and anyone else who might have believed him know the truth about the Weasley girl releasing the basilisk. That is all they need to do. They do not need to spread her name far and wide.
If Aradia later writes to some people, such as the girl's family, with the truth and asks for their help or consideration with some minor favors…that will still not be releasing her name. A Gryffindor Albus thinks innocent is protected, and Blaise and Harry get the best kind of revenge.
And the shrunken corpse of the basilisk lies in her robe pocket, bearing the promise of riches with it.
"Neville."
Neville turns around, nervous. Ron and Hermione are with him, and also turn, defensive hands on their wands, but Harry ignores them other than a subtle flicker of his eyes. He's standing in one of the corridors that leads towards the dungeons.
"Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my friends," Neville says, and does his best not to let his voice tremble. After all, if Harry is the Heir of Slytherin, he probably cast a powerful Obliviate on him.
Harry half-smiles. "That's fine. No one else is here right now."
And he's right. They're just coming out of Potions—and Harry should probably be in whatever class Ravenclaw has at this time, but it's not something Neville's going to worry that much about—and the only other figure there is Zabini, sliding out of the stream of Slytherins leaving Potions and up beside Harry like a shadow.
Neville opens his mouth to say something, but shakes his head when Nott joins Zabini and Harry. "No. If he's here, I'm not going to talk to you."
"But don't you want to learn the real identity of the Heir of Slytherin?"
Neville hesitates. Are they going to admit to it? He wonders why they would. So far, there's no evidence that they can't lie about.
"Three against three," Nott drawls, his lip curling for a moment. "Isn't that fair, the way you Gryffindors like to think?"
"It wasn't fair when you tied us up and threw us out of your common room!"
"The common room you sneaked into in the first place, by brewing an illegal potion?" Nott asks, and smiles at Ron.
Neville intervenes hastily, before this can devolve into a duel. He's afraid Nott would win, even if Ron and Hermione have increased their mastery of magic during this investigation into the Heir of Slytherin. "Calm down, Ron." He turns to the side so that he doesn't have to look directly at Nott, and asks Harry, "Who is it?"
"Ginny Weasley."
There's a moment of silence that Neville thinks endures so long only because their shock is absolute. He's reeling himself. What do Harry and Nott have to gain by accusing a first-year Gryffindor? And Ron's sister to boot? Neville could see if it they wanted to accuse some older Slytherin as a means of diverting suspicion from themselves, but Ginny?
"You're lying!" Ron bellows, predictably, and flings himself forwards.
He slams into a shield that none of them saw anyone cast in the air, and reels back, still bellowing. Hermione says something loud about rules and breaking rules and magic in the corridors, and Nott looks enchanted, as if he can't wait to challenge someone to a duel.
"Take this, and you'll see."
Neville snorts as he looks at the glimmering blue gem lying in Zabini's palm. "Yeah, right, like I'm just going to be accepting things from a Slytherin."
"From me, then," Harry says impatiently, snatching the jewel away and holding it out.
"No offense, Harry, but he probably enchanted it not to harm you."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Harry says, which makes Neville gape at him, and leaves him vulnerable as Harry lifts his palm to his mouth and blows on the gem.
It turns into bright powder and hits Neville in the face like a puff of fog. He reels, snatching at his face, and—
And the Obliviate breaks.
Neville drops to his knees as he remembers that confrontation with Ginny, and how his scar has hurt when the first-years have been around, and the way that he sometimes thought Ginny seemed pale and quiet, nothing like herself as he remembers her from growing up, and the way she was crouched over a book, a book, a book—
"Neville! Neville, mate, are you okay?"
"What did you do to him?"
Ron and Hermione are protective, hovering on either side of him, but Neville lifts his head and croaks out the first thing that comes to mind. "It was Ginny."
They stop and stare at him with his eyes as wide as an owl's. Neville shudders and staggers to his feet, feeling clear-headed for the first time in months. He didn't realize how much the Memory Charm wore on him.
Harry stares at him, and there's a thin smile on his face that Neville has never seen before. He swallows. He ignores the expressions on Zabini's and Nott's faces. Neither of them was ever his friend.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry jerks his head down in a sharp nod. "You know it was her?"
"Yeah—yeah." Neville shudders and wraps his arms around himself, ignoring the way that Ron and Hermione are clamoring about the dust being an enchantment to make him think it was Ginny. "She's the one who Obliviated me. Or—or the artifact that possessed her?" He looks at Harry.
"Yes, a Dark artifact. Dumbledore took possession of it." Harry shrugs. "You'll have to ask him what he did with it."
"Who enchanted the dust?"
"Mrs. Zabini. I suppose the Headmaster didn't prioritize getting the Memory Charm removed from you."
Neville closes his eyes in humiliation, remembering the way he was so sure that it was Slytherins, and Zabinis, who had some part in protecting the Heir of Slytherin. And Ravenclaws who could speak Parseltongue.
"What if they just made you think the dust erased the Memory Charm," Ron says, his face bright red, "and they're only blaming Ginny because she's been sort of homesick this year—"
"Go to the hospital wing, Weasley," Zabini drawls. Neville glances up to see that he's stepped in between them and Harry, as if Harry might need shelter from someone who was once his friend. Neville stares at his shoes again. "See if your sister's there. I'm sure that you can ask Madam Pomfrey, as a family member, and ascertain that she has an acute case of magical exhaustion."
Neville thinks the emphasis on "family" is odd. But maybe Zabini is just thinking of the fact that Ron has siblings and he doesn't.
Neville finds it hard to look Zabini in the face, although not as hard as Harry. Resentment churns and boils in his gut, because Zabini did try to hurt him, but—
It's the same impulse that would make Neville charge to the rescue if Ron or Hermione got hurt. Even though he wouldn't do the same things, he would feel some of the same fury.
Right now, Harry looks at him as if he were a stranger, as if he would never do that kind of thing for Neville and never would have done it.
"Let's go to the hospital wing," Neville mutters to his friends.
"Wait!" Hermione protests. "We still don't know if they're telling the truth, they could be lying or they could have tricked you—"
"The beast could still be running around, even if the Heir of Slytherin's been caught!"
"The beast was a basilisk, and my mother killed it."
Zabini's voice is cool. Neville turns his head to the side. He doesn't want to listen to smug bragging or the way that Ron and Hermione might argue with it. Proof will lie in the hospital wing, one way or the other.
"Come on," he says, and tugs Ron and Hermione after him.
"We have Transfiguration—"
Neville shakes his head, and keeps walking. One way or the other, he wants the truth.
And when he receives it, in the form of Ron meeting up with his parents—who are unexpectedly there—and learning that Ginny was possessed by a Dark artifact she had and letting the basilisk out of the Chamber, Neville feels as though a freezing boulder has landed in the middle of his stomach.
He doesn't know if he will ever be able to remove it.