Living without Danger
Chapter 34: Names (Year 2)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 34: Names
"Ginny," whispered Meghan, staring at her pendants.
Harry grabbed Ron’s shoulder just in time to keep his friend from collapsing. "Has anyone seen her since dinner?" he demanded. "Did she come back to the Tower with us?"
"I don’t know," said Neville, shaking his head. "I don’t know."
"I didn’t see her," said Draco. "I know she was at dinner, but I just assumed she’d come back with everyone else."
"How could she be in this much danger at Hogwarts?" asked Ron shakily, now holding onto the back of one of the chairs for support. "Unless—"
"The basilisk," said Harry, feeling the pendants’ chill spread through his chest. "The Chamber."
"We have to find her, then," said Neville.
"How?" demanded Draco. "We have no way of knowing where the Chamber is—"
"That note said the basilisk uses pipes to get around," said Harry. "Where are there pipes at Hogwarts?"
"In the walls," said Neville. "Water pipes. The plumbing."
"That’s what we never asked Hagrid," said Draco suddenly. "What would a monster be doing in a bathroom?"
Ron nodded jerkily. "Unless it had to be there," he said. "Unless the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in—"
"Come on!" shouted Harry, already halfway out the door.
"Wait," said Luna, in a curiously penetrating voice. "This way will be faster. It leads to the hospital wing." She pointed to the slide Meghan and Neville had come out of. "We must hurry."
Harry had never agreed with her more. The Pride piled into the stone tube in a mad rush. The magic pulled them upwards one by one, until they were all standing by the fireplace in the hospital wing, with the candles burning low and the last rays of sunlight creeping in the windows.
"Thank you, Rowena," said Meghan, and the tube’s entrance sealed itself off. "We found it out by accident," she said as they ran out the double doors. "Maybe there are others in other places."
"Shush," said Draco. "Save your breath."
They piled up a flight of stairs, Ron in the lead. He froze as they turned a corner, giving Harry déjà vu as he just barely avoided crashing into his friend.
The writing on the wall outside Myrtle’s bathroom still gleamed in the torchlight. But there was a new message now, written under the old one.
Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
Ron moaned. "Ginny..."
"Stop it," snapped Harry. "You’re not helping."
"You’re right," said Luna, still in the same tone as before. Harry looked at her and wasn’t surprised to see her eyes unfocused, half-shut. "He cannot help you now. None of us can. You must go into the Chamber alone, and soon, Harry Potter, if you wish the lynx to see the dawn."
Alone.
The cold in Harry’s chest settled around his heart.
"Don’t make enemies when you can make friends," added Luna. "And remember what your alpha mother told you." She blinked twice, rapidly, then looked at him with her usual expression of mild surprise. "Are you going to save Ginny, then?" she asked in her normal tones.
Harry took a deep breath, and felt his pendants shift with the movement.
Ginny’s my Pridemate. My friend. How could I not try to save her?
"Yes," he said. "I am. Come on, everyone."
He laid his hand on the brass doorknob of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and opened the door.
Myrtle was sitting on top of the stalls. "Oh, it’s you again," she said sullenly. "What do you want now?"
"I wanted to ask you something," said Harry. "How did you die?"
Myrtle brightened immediately. It was obvious she’d wanted to tell someone about this for a very long time.
"It was terrible," she said confidingly, swooping over to Harry. "It was right over there, in that stall." She pointed. "I’d come in here to hide, because Olive Hornby had teased me about my glasses. I was crying when somebody came in. I heard the door shut. Then they said something. I didn’t understand them, it sounded like a different language. But it was a boy talking. So I opened up the door to tell him to go away..." Myrtle lifted her head proudly. "And then I died."
"Did it hurt?" asked Draco.
"No," said Myrtle. "My whole body got all stiff when I saw the eyes, but it didn’t hurt."
"What eyes?" asked Harry quickly.
"A pair of great huge yellow ones. As big as my hand. And then I was drifting away... but I came back. I wanted to haunt Olive Hornby, and make her sorry she ever laughed at my glasses."
"I’m sure you did," said Harry. "Where did you see the eyes?"
"Somewhere over there." Myrtle pointed towards the row of sinks.
Harry drew his wand and lit it, bending over the sink in front of Myrtle’s toilet. The rest of the Pride joined him, inspecting the sink from every angle. It looked just like all the others — pipes beneath, then the basin, and the two copper taps —
"Harry."
Meghan’s voice held urgency. Harry looked where she was pointing.
Engraved into the side of one of the taps was the carving of a snake.
"This is it," he whispered. "This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."
"What’re you going to do, slide down the drain?" asked Draco.
Harry closed his eyes and thought of stories in the back yard, kneeling beside a bin at the Apothecary, finding the Mirror of Erised in a darkened classroom...
"Open up," he said, opening his eyes.
The tap with the snake on it glowed white. The handle began to spin. As the Pride backed hastily away, the sink dropped into the floor. Where it had been, a large pipe was exposed, bigger than any of the entrances to the Hogwarts Den.
"Or you could do that," said Draco a little weakly.
Harry set his wand on the next sink over and hugged Meghan tightly. "I love you, Pearl," he whispered in her ear. "Be a good girl."
"I will."
"We’ll see you soon," said Luna, giving him a quick hug around the chest.
"I hope so." Harry shook hands firmly with Neville, did the boy cubs’ shake with Draco, who was blinking very hard, then got to Ron. "I’ll bring her back," he said, meeting Ron’s eyes straight on. "I promise."
"I believe you." Ron glanced back at the pipe. "Are you sure I can’t go with you?"
Harry looked at Luna, then back at Ron. "I wish you could," he said. "But she said if we want Ginny to live, it has to be me alone."
Ron nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.
Harry turned to Draco. "Get everyone back to the Tower," he said, no longer one brother talking to another but an alpha instructing his beta. "Or maybe stay in the Den. It’s safer there, and it’s den-night anyway. As soon as Letha’s done with that potion, tell her what’s going on. She’s the only one who’ll believe you."
"What about Moony and Danger?" objected Meghan.
Harry picked up his wand again, sat down in the tube, and glanced out the window. The sky was turning red with sunset. He looked over his shoulder at Meghan. "I don’t think they’re coming."
He pushed off into the pipe.
xXxXx
Danger was laughing when it happened. Remus had just finished singing her one of the rudest songs ever written, which he imbued with great passion, despite assuring her with a perfectly straight face (and an open mind) that he had never experienced the activity the song so melodiously described. The combination of his operatic stance and expression and the utterly disgusting lyrics had left her rolling around on the bed, helpless.
Until the sudden sensation of cold, like the brush of a finger on the back of her neck.
"Oh God—" She sat up, willing her chain intangible to her clothes, so that it swung out free of them. She caught it on the return arc, noting the bright glow coming from the last pendant. The carving of the wolf cub shone with a steady light.
Remus cursed quietly, having just come to the same conclusion. "It would have to be tonight. And now."
Danger looked up, meeting his eyes, and the knowledge in them. With Sirius Petrified, and Aletha incommunicado, they were the only ones who could help Harry.
And the full moon was rising.
"We have to call someone," she said, half of her mind racing, the other half stalled. "Arthur and Molly—"
"They’re in London, having a date." Remus diplomatically did not remind her that she’d recommended this to the Weasleys herself — he doesn’t need to, I can remember it fine myself.
"Gerald—"
"He’s in Manchester to meet an expert on heliopaths." Remus closed the distance between them, pulling her to her feet. "And Minerva won’t be in her office to hear a firecall. She’ll be patrolling the corridors. You have to go. Lock me in somewhere, and go."
"No!" Danger yanked her hand free of his. "I won’t do that to you!"
"Not even to save Harry?"
"Stop it!" Danger heard the hysterical overtones in her own voice and clenched her fists, fighting off panic. "I have to decide this for myself," she said, mildly surprised that she was still standing. She was shaking all over. "I have to decide."
Who do I help? My child, or my husband?
Harry could be in any kind of danger, anything at all. I might not be able to help him at all, or I might make the difference between life and death. Or he might get out of it himself.
Remus probably won’t die if I leave him now. The transformation will hurt him, and he’ll harm himself, possibly badly, but he probably won’t die. But the real danger is to others. We’re not really set up to contain a werewolf. He might break out. That would be worse than anything.
Except Harry dying. That would be a total disaster.
Help me, she begged the universe at large. What do I do now?
xXxXx
The Pride gazed down into the pipe for a moment after Harry was out of sight. Then Draco turned away. "Come on, everyone, let’s go," he said.
"I’m not going," said Ron.
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not. I’m staying here."
"You can’t go after him."
"I’m not going after him. But I’m not going back to the Tower, either."
"You have to!"
"Let him stay," interjected Neville. "It’s his sister down there. You’d do the same, if it was Hermione. Or Meghan."
Draco made a noise of utter frustration, then glared at Ron. "If you die, I’ll kill you."
"I’ll remember that."
The rest of the Pride hurried out of the bathroom. Ron was left alone, staring at the pipe.
His pendants hung against his school robes. One carving on each side of his second one glowed brightly.
xXxXx
It wasn’t at all like going to the Den. This pipe was damp, for one thing, and smelled of mold and mildew and other nasty things. There were branchings and twistings all around, though the pipe Harry was sliding through remained the largest. He was tempted to shout and see what kind of echoes the place had, but half-remembered stories stopped him.
"Your best ally is the element of surprise." That was what Padfoot always said when he was telling them a story about a battle, or writing one. As long as his enemy didn’t know he was coming, he, Harry, had the advantage.
"Know your enemy." That was another of Padfoot’s sayings. Unfortunately, Harry had no idea at all who his enemy might be.
Other than the Heir of Slytherin.
But whoever he was, he was putting Ginny’s life in danger. No one threatened the Pride and got away with it.
The pipe twisted once more, then dumped Harry out onto a slimy stone floor. He got to his feet and held his lit wand over his head. He was in a huge stone tunnel, with water dripping from the ceiling and sliding down the walls. Probably under the lake somewhere.
There was only one way to go. Harry set out, trying to ignore his heart hammering against his ribs. Any movement at all, he told himself, shut your eyes. It can’t kill you with a look if you don’t look at it.
But it could still bite me in half, part of him argued.
Shut up.
The tunnel twisted and turned. Harry kept against the inside wall, checking quickly around each corner before he turned it. All that he ever saw was more tunnel, until finally it ended in a solid wall, carved with a pair of entwined snakes, whose eyes were enormous emeralds. He smiled grimly. A similar decoration, though not quite so gaudy, had inspired his first ever use of Parseltongue.
For one instant, he was four again, flush with victory against a larger opponent and childishly certain that nothing could harm him if he could just find his Pack...
But then I wanted something locked. Now I want the opposite.
"Open," he said.
The wall separated into two halves, which slid back silently to allow Harry passage. He whispered, "Nox," putting out his wand, because there was light here, a dim and greenish light, coming from nowhere that he could see. Huge pillars, each with another stone serpent twined around it, rose on either side of him. He started walking, wincing as his footsteps echoed off the stone walls.
He knows I’m here now, if he didn’t before.
He squinted through as small an opening in his eyelids as he dared, ready to shut his eyes instantly if he should see movement. Twice he did, only to realize that his nerves had made the carved stone snakes seem to be moving. Ahead, there were only more pillars, with something huge looming up in the distance. A statue, Harry saw as he got closer, a statue the height of the Chamber.
It’s ugly, was his first thought as he tilted his head back to look up at the statue’s face. The man it depicted bore a pronounced resemblance to a monkey. But it reminded him of someone else as well, someone he liked and trusted. His first thought, seeing the beard which fell almost to the statue’s feet, was Dumbledore, absurd as that was —
And then he saw what was between the statue’s feet, and all other thoughts flew out of his head.
"Ginny!" He ran to her, amazed and overjoyed that she didn’t seem to be hurt, she was just tied up and gagged — the Heir of Slytherin must have left her here to try to scare her, he would get her loose and they would get out of here —
She was shaking her head vehemently, shrinking away from him, as he fell to his knees beside her. "It’s all right," he said, setting his wand aside to untie the knot of her gag. "It’s all right, I’m here to save you—"
The gag fell away. "Harry, no, it’s a trap," Ginny babbled, staring past him. "Run, save yourself, it’s you he wants, please go..."
Harry turned to look where she was looking and nearly fell over. Of all the people who could have been standing in the shadows of the Chamber of Secrets holding a wand on him, the person who was there was not one he would have picked.
"Percy?"
"Surprised?" said Percy, and Harry shuddered. He had never heard Percy speak like this before. He was usually brisk and no-nonsense, rather like his mother — this tone was chilling and full of malice. "You shouldn’t be. Or didn’t you know—"
Percy’s face twisted, as if he were fighting himself. "Harry," he choked out, in something resembling his usual voice. "Harry — take Ginny — run — don’t know how long I can fight him..."
Harry tore his eyes away from Percy’s writhing form. "What’s going on?" he asked Ginny in an urgent hiss, fumbling at the ropes holding her arms.
"Percy’s been possessed," whispered Ginny, staring at her brother, who was clawing at his own face, uttering strangled cries. "The diary, Harry, Tom Riddle’s diary, it’s evil, and Percy’s had it all year — Riddle’s been possessing him, making him do things — it’s Percy who’s been opening the Chamber, only it wasn’t, it was Riddle, using him — except once he didn’t..." Her voice broke in terror. "Once he used me... I Petrified Hermione, Harry, Hermione and Professor Black, that was me! I did that!"
"No, Riddle did that," said Harry, starting on her ankles. "Like you said, he used you. He’s the Heir of Slytherin, then?"
"Yes." Ginny was rubbing her wrists, trying to get life back into them. "He took my wand, I don’t know what he did with it..."
"We’ll just have to run for it," said Harry, undoing the last loop of the knot. "Can you run?"
"I don’t know. I’ll have to. Yes."
"Where’s the basilisk?"
"I don’t know, I haven’t seen it—"
Harry pulled Ginny to her feet. Hand in hand, they sprinted up the Chamber of Secrets.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted a voice after them. Tom Riddle’s voice.
The spell hit Harry in the back, knocking him over on his face as his wand flew out of his hand. He couldn’t shout, the fall had knocked the wind out of him, but Ginny didn’t need instructions, he could see her running desperately for the door —
"In the name of Salazar Slytherin, I bid thee close!" hissed someone behind him.
The doors slammed shut almost in Ginny’s face as Harry caught his breath and got painfully to his knees, then to his feet. Knowing what he would see, he turned around.
Tom Riddle stood in the center of the Chamber, looking exactly as he had in the memory Harry had seen in the diary — tall, handsome, smiling slightly. It was not a nice expression. Percy lay unmoving on the floor to one side, his glasses several feet away.
"So," said Riddle, his eyes fixed on Harry. "Harry Potter. We meet again."
"What did you do to him?" asked Harry, pointing to Percy.
"Oh, don’t be alarmed. He’s not dead. Yet." Riddle’s smile grew. "But I couldn’t let him fight me that way. Not after we’ve done so much together."
Harry heard Ginny’s footsteps behind him, then felt her presence at his shoulder.
"We’ve been together all year, or most of it. There was that little hiatus after Christmas, but no matter. He’s desperately lonely, did you know that, Ginny? Percy feels very much alone. I mean, Bill and Charlie have each other. So do the twins. And you and Ron have all your little friends. But who does Percy have?" Riddle laughed, a high-pitched, chilling sound that made Harry shiver. "No one. Other than a silly Ravenclaw girlfriend, who broke up with him when he started ‘acting weird.’"
Harry licked his lips and felt behind him. His hand encountered cloth, then flesh, and Ginny grabbed on and held his hand tightly.
"And his family ridicules his cherished ambitions. He really should have been a Slytherin, you know. But he talked the Hat out of it. His family would never understand, he told it. Weasleys are always Gryffindors. And so he suffered for five years, cut off from those who would really understand him. Until I came his way."
Riddle was starting to advance on them, very slowly. Harry backed away, matching him step for step, turning at the same time, pushing Ginny along. He didn’t want them to get backed into a corner.
"It was an accident, our meeting. My diary was originally supposed to go to another. But Percy confiscated it, and tested it for magical properties. When he discovered that his words disappeared as soon as he wrote them, he thought he’d stumbled across a gold mine. What better place to write down his fears and worries? No one would ever see, or know. But I saw. I knew. And when I judged the moment was right, I wrote back."
Riddle laughed again. "He was very startled at first. I recall him asking if I were a ghost. No, only a memory, I told him. A memory of someone very like himself. I told him about how lonely I had been before I came to Hogwarts, how here, for the first time, I had found others like myself, who wanted to rise high and go far, who were willing to work hard and think differently to make that happen. I appreciated his struggle to make something of himself, while his father allows his family to live in poverty because of a foolish love for Muggles."
Ginny hissed between her teeth.
"I told him about how I had become a prefect, and how I hoped that I had been Head Boy, and he was thoughtful enough to tell me that I had. And while he was in the trophy room, he stumbled across my Award for Special Services to the School, and wanted to know all about it..."
"You lied," said Harry, feeling Ginny’s grasp tight in his. "You lied about Hagrid opening the Chamber of Secrets. It was you."
"Of course it was. But Hagrid made the perfect scapegoat, don’t you agree? Even I couldn’t see everything — I hadn’t foreseen that my fun and games would threaten the very existence of Hogwarts. I had thought there might be enough clear-thinking men on the board of governors to allow me to finish the work that Salazar Slytherin himself began."
"So you’re an Heir of Slytherin," said Harry.
"I am the Heir of Slytherin!" hissed Riddle, obviously offended. "There is no other!"
"No? What about Voldemort?"
Riddle’s eyes narrowed, and there was suddenly a hungry red gleam in them. "This is why I was so anxious to meet you, Harry," he said softly, still circling towards them. "Because I wanted to find out more about you. How did you become The Boy Who Lived? How did you, the very essence of ordinary, not only survive a Killing Curse, but reflect it back upon its caster, almost destroying Lord Voldemort?"
"What do you care?" asked Ginny shrilly. "You lived fifty years ago, a long time before Voldemort."
"Oh, no," said Riddle, shaking his head gently. "No, Ginny. I have lived at precisely the same time as Voldemort, every second of my life..."
He took a wand from his pocket. Harry pulled Ginny behind him, but Riddle turned away from them and began to write upon the air, his wand’s traces glowing green.
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, he wrote, then waved the wand in a circle.
The letters rearranged themselves. Harry heard Ginny’s gasp.
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
"I have always enjoyed games and puzzles," said Riddle quietly as the letters faded. "The name was my mother’s last gift to me, I would not forsake it entirely, but neither would I keep the name of the filthy Muggle who left his pregnant wife without a penny for no crime other than that of being a witch. I needed a name worthy of the last Heir of Salazar Slytherin, the one who would finish his noble work, who would purify Hogwarts of Mudblood filth."
"Why did you Petrify Professor Black, then?" Ginny challenged. "He’s a pureblood."
"He was in the way," said Riddle, looking down his nose at her. "Sheltering a little Mudblood like that, when he has no claim to her, other than being her Pack-father — oh, yes, I know all about your Pack, Harry." The word dripped derision. "Rightly named, for the animals that you are."
"I told him," whispered Ginny, her voice catching. "I told him about the Pack, and the Pride — I’m so sorry, Harry..."
"You didn’t know. It’s all right." Harry heard the words coming from his mouth automatically. His mind was filled with hatred. The boy standing in front of him had become the wizard who had killed his parents, who had caused all the Pack’s suffering, who had saddled him, Harry, with a scar, a stupid nickname, and a destiny...
"Yes, Ginny told me about your Pack, and your Pride. How you swore oaths to one another, and how your pendants bring you to each other’s aid. So I had to plan. I needed to find a time when I could bring you here, Harry, you and only you, or perhaps a few of your friends. In that way, your pendants would help me, because they would bring you immediately to the aid of someone in trouble. But they also had the possibility to ruin everything. If your pendants had brought your — what is it you say, your Pack-parents? — running to the rescue, I would have been greatly displeased."
"He’s still weak," Ginny breathed. "He must not be able to fight well yet — he couldn’t fight an adult, someone good with a wand..."
"So I sent Percy out to the greenhouses, to tinker with the growth of the Mandrakes, and ensure that they reached maturity the day before a full moon night." Riddle smiled. "Since Percy saw fit to tell me exactly why he disapproves so of his brother and sister’s friends. It’s no fault of yours, Harry. He merely doesn’t like your precious Moony."
"I knew that," said Harry harshly. His mind whirled. Moony — werewolf — silver —
He carefully lowered his free hand to his robes, thankful beyond measure that Ginny was on his left, and that they were circling Riddle in such a way that Riddle couldn’t see his left side well. He gathered a handful of cloth, as if trying to dry his palm, pulling the robes tight over his left hip, and thought hard at his dagger, belted around the waist of his trousers. Go through the cloth. Let Ginny take you.
He heard her slow intake of breath. Then she released his hand, and a moment later, he felt the blade begin to slide from its sheath.
At least she’ll have something to defend herself with.
"So. Having disposed of all your guardians — one Petrified, one busy with a potion, and two busy with the full moon — I can have a good look at you, at the famous Boy Who Lived." Riddle shook his head. "And I am sadly disappointed. Truly, I believe it was luck that allowed you to live that night, Harry. How else could you have defeated the greatest wizard in the world?"
Harry met Riddle’s eyes, staring into them. "I didn’t."
"You didn’t? Then how did you survive?" Riddle might have been teasing a little boy who was insisting that two and two made five.
"I defeated you," said Harry, letting his anger and contempt show in his tone. "You’re not the greatest wizard in the world. Not even close. Albus Dumbledore is greater than you’ll ever be. Even when you were all grown up, you never dared challenge Dumbledore. You still don’t dare now."
Riddle’s face was contorted in rage. "Dumbledore is gone from this castle, Harry Potter. I, the memory of a sixteen-year-old boy, remain. Who is the victor?"
"He’s not really gone!" shouted Ginny. "He never will be, as long as we remember what he taught us!"
Riddle sneered, and opened his mouth to answer.
Music filled the Chamber suddenly, a music unlike anything Harry had ever heard, and yet similar to something he had heard before. Riddle was staring around, unable to locate the source. It made all Harry’s hair prickle and his heart feel as though it were swelling in his chest. Ginny was squeezing his hand tightly; he could feel the music vibrating in the fine bones of her fingers.
A burst of fire appeared between Riddle and the two Pridemates. Out of it erupted a bird, a bird with beautiful crimson and gold feathers, singing its own song now, where Harry had once heard a faint echo of it singing along with many human voices, voices calling him and Meghan back into life. He knew this bird.
"Fawkes," he breathed.
The phoenix flew directly to him and settled onto his right shoulder, the one opposite Ginny. It stopped singing and fixed Riddle with a beady gaze.
Riddle stared back at the bird. "A phoenix," he said. "I should have known. Dumbledore would be the type to attach a phoenix. But what can a phoenix do? Besides die and be reborn. It has many powers, true, but none of them are warlike. You seem sadly outmatched, Harry Potter. Your own puny powers, a little girl even younger than yourself, and a pretty bird, against me."
"Where is it?" breathed Harry to Ginny, barely moving his lips.
"In my pocket."
"So, Harry, we never did answer that question," said Riddle, smiling silkily. "How exactly did you survive, when we met — in my future, and your past? We met twice, Percy tells me. And twice you lived to tell your tale. How did it happen?"
Harry held out his right hand in front of him, palm down. "Touch me," he said.
"What?"
"Touch me. Go on, do it now. Just a little touch, your skin on mine."
Looking wary, Riddle moved slowly forward and extended a finger to touch Harry’s. As their skin brushed, pain shot through Harry’s scar, and Riddle jerked his hand back as though he’d been burned.
"That’s how I got away last year," said Harry. "It hurt you to touch me, so I hung onto your arm and made you look at me while Danger killed the man you were possessing." It wasn’t as hard to say, or to think, as it had been when he had first learned about it. "And when I was a baby? My real mum saved me then. She jumped in front of the curse you meant for me. That’s why I lived. Because she died for me. My Muggle-born mother loved me enough to stop you killing me by giving up her own life."
Riddle’s face was twisted, whether in anger or in disgust Harry couldn’t tell. Then the corners of his mouth curved up, and Harry realized that he was actually smiling.
"You seem to like to hide behind women, Harry. It’s a bad habit. So there really is nothing very special about you, then. Merely luck, and good protectors. But you have no protectors now. Unless you count little Ginny. She was pathetically easy to overwhelm, you know, she practically begged me to possess her..."
"Liar," growled Ginny.
"So let us end it, Harry. You and I, here, together. My weapons against yours." Riddle’s smile widened as he looked at Ginny, then at Fawkes. "The best that Dumbledore can provide his champion, against the best that the Heir of Salazar Slytherin can muster..."
He turned and walked back down the Chamber, towards the statue.
"That’s where it comes out," said Ginny under her breath. "From the mouth of the statue. Harry, you should have this." She pulled the dagger from her pocket. "I can’t use it."
"I have Fawkes," said Harry, looking up at the phoenix. "Just hold onto it. At least it’s something."
"Speak to me, Slytherin," hissed Riddle, "greatest of the Hogwarts Four."
"You understand him, don’t you?" whispered Ginny. "When he speaks Parseltongue."
"Yes." Harry stared up at the statue. The mouth was indeed opening, and something was moving inside it...
He pulled his eyes away. "Split up," he said. "It’ll have a harder time finding us. Try to stay out of its way as long as you can, and don’t look it in the eye!"
"I know. Harry — be careful!" Ginny pressed his hand once, then ran across the Chamber and into the shadows on the other side. Harry backed into a pillar, moved around it, and shut his eyes tightly. Fawkes’ talons pressed against him tightly for a moment, then the phoenix’s wing brushed against his cheek as Fawkes took to the air. Harry opened his eyes just long enough to get a look at what lay before him — a long gallery, bounded on one side by a wall, on the other by the pillars. Then he clamped his eyes shut as he heard Riddle’s Parseltongue command:
"Kill them."
"Which one first?" replied another voice, and Harry gasped in shock. Except for being much louder, it could have been Siss.
It wasn’t her at all, that I heard that night — it was the basilisk!
"Either, it does not matter!" Riddle sounded impatient. "Do not question me! Do as I say!"
The basilisk must be female, Harry realized distantly. Male and female snakes sounded different. He would never have mistaken a male basilisk’s voice for Siss.
A slithering sound, coming closer — the basilisk was coming for him. Tasting acid fear in his mouth, Harry began to run away from the sound, hands outstretched before him, trying to feel his way along — he could hear high-pitched laughing, Voldemort’s laugh — why had he not realized who Riddle was at the first?
Harry crashed into a pillar and fell backwards, remembering only at the last second to keep his eyes shut. His glasses fell off and clattered on the stone. A shadow loomed over him — the basilisk, it must be, he was going to die —
A high, melodious cry, and a scream of agony, directly above him, and then something heavy slammed down on the stone six inches from Harry’s head. He winced away from it, turned himself around, feeling for his glasses. His hand had just closed around them when he heard another musical cry, and a second scream, this one with words.
"Master, my eyes! My eyes!"
"I will heal you when this is done, as I did before!" shouted Riddle. "Forget the bird! Find the children! Smell for them! Kill them!"
Harry fumbled his glasses onto his face and opened his eyes, ready to shut them again if he had to, but he didn’t. The basilisk, thrashing in pain above him, had bloody wrecks where its enormous yellow eyes had once been. Its greatest weapon had been defeated.
But it still has a nose to find us with, and fangs to kill us with...
Harry held his breath and backed away slowly. The basilisk was still snapping at Fawkes. "Stop trying to kill the bird!" shrieked Riddle. "I am your master! Do as I bid you! Kill the girl!" And before Harry could do anything to stop him, he had pointed his wand into the shadows. "Accio Ginny!"
Ginny came sliding out from between two pillars, her feet skidding on the floor as she fought being Summoned. Riddle grasped her arm and flung her towards the basilisk. "She is in front of you! Kill her!"
The basilisk lowered its head, opening its mouth, flicking out its forked tongue. It was moving closer to Ginny, closer, she was standing as though frozen —
It struck at her. Ginny leaped out of the way, then ran back in and drove Harry’s knife into the side of the basilisk’s head.
That won’t do anything, Harry thought in frustration as the basilisk screamed again. We need some way to stop it for good...
Luna’s voice echoed in his mind.
"Don’t make enemies where you can make friends..."
"HEY!" Harry yelled, running out into the middle of the Chamber. "Hey, you, big snake, over here!"
The basilisk reared up, confused. "You are not my master," she hissed.
"And so he does not matter!" shouted Riddle. "He has told you where he is! Kill him!"
"No, wait!" yelled Harry. "What’s your name?"
The basilisk’s head wove a pattern in the air as she tried to make sense of the two people shouting at her.
"Names do not matter!" screamed Riddle.
"Then why’d you change yours?" challenged Harry, then turned back to the basilisk. "Look, my name’s Harry. The girl is Ginny. Who are you?"
"Names have a lot of power," Danger had said, and so it seemed. The basilisk was visibly shaken.
"My name..." she began. "My name... it has been so long. So long since any called me by my name. It was given to me by my first master. I remember now. My name is Sangre."
"Sangre," said Harry. "That’s pretty."
"Thank you."
"Pretty, what does pretty matter to you?" snapped Riddle. "Kill them!"
Harry glanced at Ginny. She was staring at him fixedly. When she saw she had his attention, she made a hand-signal. I have something to tell you.
Come closer, Harry signed back. "I heard you talking once before," he said to Sangre. "When you were going through the school. You were hungry."
"Yes." The final sibilant was extended. "I am always hungry. I have eaten only the vermin that lair down here since I was awakened..."
"You can eat them, as soon as you kill them!" shouted Riddle.
"Quiet," hissed Sangre, whipping her head around towards him. "You are like a foolish bird that only knows one song. ‘Kill them, kill them.’ I wish to speak with this boy, with Harry."
Harry hid his jubilation. "I bet I could get you something to eat," he said as Ginny reached his side. "There’s a Forest outside with lots of animals in it. You could even go out there and hunt for yourself."
"Go out? Leave the castle?" Sangre sounded intrigued. "I have never been outdoors. My master would never allow it."
"And your master does not allow it now," said Riddle, with an audible growl in his hissing words. "My patience wears thin, snake. Kill them, or be killed yourself."
"I do not care for threats," said Sangre, her voice acquiring a growl of its own. "And if I can smell them, I can smell you as well!"
She whirled and lunged at Riddle, who dodged and shouted a spell, pointing his wand at her. Harry and Ginny were momentarily forgotten.
"The diary," whispered Ginny, pointing. The little black book lay unnoticed on the floor beside Percy. "He came out of the diary, I saw it — if we can just get it..."
Harry was already sprinting across the floor. Sangre’s tail lashed around him as she battled Riddle, almost flattening him twice, but he made it. He scooped up the diary and ran back the other way, back to where Ginny waited —
Sangre screamed again as a spell of Riddle’s burned a huge cavity in her side. Ginny cried out in horror.
"And now I do the same to you!" shouted Riddle, whirling on them.
Harry snatched his dagger from Ginny’s lax hand and stabbed it through the cover of the diary.
Riddle staggered back, howling inhumanly, as ink spurted from the diary like blood from a wound. But he wasn’t finished — he was pointing his wand at Ginny, opening his mouth —
Harry wrenched the dagger out and stabbed the book the other way, making an X on the black cover.
Riddle’s scream was worse than Sangre’s. Harry would have clapped his hands over his ears if he hadn’t been holding the diary. Ginny was, but from the look on her face, it wasn’t helping much. Riddle was writhing worse than Percy had —
And then he was gone. In the silence that followed that dreadful scream, the only sounds were the dripping of ink from the ruined diary and Sangre’s hoarse breaths.
Fawkes landed beside the wounded snake, crooning softly. Harry dropped the diary and ran over to her. "He’s gone, Sangre," he told her. "You don’t ever have to listen to him again."
"I would not in any case," said the snake heavily. "I am dying, Harry."
"It can’t live through that," whispered Ginny, joining him. "Can it?"
"She says not." Harry felt his throat closing. This made two snakes this year who had died for him.
Fawkes cocked his head over the gaping wound in Sangre’s side. Thick, glossy tears slid down the feathers of his face and fell into the injury.
Ginny gasped. "Look!"
Where Fawkes’ tears fell, the burned tissue was mending itself. Sangre’s flesh and bone was regrowing before their eyes, her green scales extending over it all.
"What is happening?" asked Sangre in confusion. "I feel stronger, not weaker."
"Fawkes is healing you," said Harry, unable to stop himself from smiling, and not wanting to. "The phoenix."
"The phoenix heals me? Why? We are enemies."
"Not anymore," said Harry. "Not unless you try to eat him, I don’t think. He only hurt you to stop you hurting us."
Fawkes lifted his head. Sangre’s side was healed. She ran her nose along it, inspecting herself. "Will you thank him for me, Harry?" she asked. "I cannot speak his language."
"Sure. Fawkes," said Harry in English. "Sangre says thank you. For healing her."
Fawkes chirruped.
"I believe that is ‘You are welcome,’" said Sangre with good humor. Then her tone changed, became thoughtful. "It seems to me that I have heard the name ‘Harry’ before. Spoken by a small one of my own kind, or rather, cried out, just as I looked upon her."
Harry winced. "Her name was Siss," he said. "She was my friend."
"I am sorry," said Sangre. "I was obeying my master. I have known nothing else my whole life long. Nothing but my first master, and then many long years of dreams, and then this master, whom you have just defeated. He came once, and then went away, and I dreamed again a little while, and then he returned, though his voice was strange. Once he even sounded female. But just now, before I fought him, he sounded as he did the first time he came."
"Yeah," said Harry. "It’s... kind of hard to explain."
He looked around. Ginny was kneeling beside Percy, Fawkes perched on his other side. "I think he’ll be all right," she said. "He’s alive, anyway, and he doesn’t look hurt."
"Good." But how are we going to get out of here?
"Harry," said Sangre. "Was ‘Siss’ all your friend’s name, or was it a short-name for something else?"
"I’m not sure." Harry thought back to his life in London, where he had first known Siss. The day she had introduced herself... "I think it was a short-name."
"What was her full name, then?"
Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember what the thin green snake had told him her name was, while Meghan and Draco and Neenie and Padfoot played in the sun, and Letha worked in the garden...
"Sisseehh," he said, opening his eyes. "Her name was Sisseehh."
"Ahhh." Sangre flicked her tongue out in a sign of contentment. "As I thought. I know that word. It was in the stories my first master would tell me, the stories of the outdoors. He promised that I would go there someday, if I was good."
"It’s a word? I mean, like a real word, not just a name?"
"Of course it is a word. All names are words. They have meanings. Say it yourself and see what meaning comes to your mind."
"All right." Harry closed his eyes again. "Sisseehh," he whispered to himself. "Sisseehh."
An image floated into his mind. A delicate white flower on a thick stalk, surrounded by long green leaves...
Harry opened his eyes and smiled. "Come on," he said, standing up. "We should get going. Open," he hissed at the doors of the Chamber, which split and parted.
The person standing on the other side raised both eyebrows. "Do I even want to know?"
Author Notes:
Thanks to fanfiction.net's MoriasDepths for letting me use her name for the basilisk.