Chapter 20 - chapter 20

Moving closer to summer, Madam Pomfrey did something Harry had been worried she might do, barring visitors from entering the hospital wing.

"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told Harry and Ron severely through a crack in the infirmary door one morning when they came to see Hermione. "No, I'm sorry, there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off…"

Understanding her reasoning, Harry made no attempt after that to sneak with Ron under the Invisibility Cloak to check on their best friend, afraid that any circumventing of Madam Pomfrey's security reinforcements might compromise them against whoever was responsible for the attack on what was now four students, a ghost, and one cat. He did not, however, let it stop him from visiting Hermione on his own at night, using his Snidget form to squeeze into the infirmary, then flying down to sit on Hermione's chest. While it was logistically pointless, it made him feel better staying on guard at night to protect her, even if he was a weightless ball of fluff.

The atmosphere in the castle had plummeted after the expulsion of Dumbledore and the imprisonment of their beloved gamekeeper. Throughout Hogwarts, there was barely a face to be seen that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural, and was quickly stifled.

Harry constantly repeated Dumbledore's final words to himself. "I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me… Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." But what good were these words? Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help, when everyone in the castle seemed to be equally scared and confused?

Hagrid's hint about following the spiders had been easier to work out — the trouble was, there didn't seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. Harry looked everywhere he went, helped (rather reluctantly) by Ron. They were hampered, of course, by the fact that they weren't allowed to wander off on their own but had to move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of their fellow students seemed glad that they were being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but Harry found it very irksome.

One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy was strutting around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy. Harry didn't realize what he was so pleased about until a Potions lesson two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left, when, sitting right behind Malfoy, Harry overheard him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he said, not troubling to keep his voice down. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in…"

Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione's empty seat and cauldron, nor about what Draco was saying, which he surely must have heard.

"Sir," said Malfoy loudly. "Sir, why don't you apply for the headmaster's job?"

"Now, now, Malfoy," said Snape, though he couldn't suppress a thin-lipped smile. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."

"Yeah, right," said Malfoy, smirking. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job — I'll tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir."

Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus Finnigan, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.

"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger —"

The bell rang just then, and the noise of the students getting up from their stools to collect bags and books distracted most people from noticing Ron leaping to stand face-to-face with Draco, grabbing the front of his robes with both hands.

Harry was momentarily frozen, watching and feeling the intense fury from Ron as the taller boy lifted Malfoy right off of his feet. Ron seemed to want to say something, but was too heated to get the words out. Knowing the commotion from the class was about to ebb, Harry split Neville's bag open across the room to continue distracting Snape, who began to predictably berate Neville. Harry made a mental note to make it up to Neville sometime in the future. He also cast Impediment jinxes at Crabbe and Goyle to prevent them from coming to Draco's aid.

Harry could see the muscles tensing in Ron's neck as he held a terrified and speechless Malfoy in the air. Having a feeling of what was about to happen, Harry twitched his fingers, causing a heavy tome on a shelf behind a scrambling Neville to fall to the floor with a resounding slap at the very same time that Ron lifted Malfoy even further into the air, and then slammed him, back-first, onto the table.

"You never talk about her again," Ron said in a fierce whisper into Malfoy's reddening face.

Dean and Seamus darted forward, finally pulling Ron away from the scene as Malfoy slid to the floor, gasping for breaths that wouldn't come. At first elated by Malfoy's pain, Harry tapped his glasses to check Malfoy's vitals, glad to see that he had only had the wind knocked out of him and that Ron had not murdered the kid.

"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology!" barked an oblivious Snape over the class's heads, and off they marched, with Harry, Ron, and Dean bringing up the rear, Ron a tower of festering rage. Snape saw them out of the castle and then they were making their way across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses, Harry trying and failing to not take continued pleasure in the obvious pain Malfoy was still in.

The Herbology class was very subdued; there were now two missing from their number, Justin and Hermione. Professor Sprout set them all to work pruning Abyssinian Shrivelfigs. Harry went to tip an armful of withered stalks onto the compost heap when he spotted something.

Several large spiders were scuttling over the ground on the other side of the greenhouse glass, moving in an unnaturally straight line as though taking the shortest route to a prearranged meeting. Harry moved quickly back to Ron and hit him over the hand with his pruning shears.

"Ouch! What're you —"

Harry pointed out the spiders, following their progress with his eyes screwed up against the sun.

"Oh…" said Ron, the smouldering fire that had still been in his eyes now extinguished. "But we can't follow them now —"

Hannah Abbot had apparently picked up on the urgency Harry and Ron were exuding, as she was now leaning towards them, listening curiously.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he focused on the spiders. If they pursued their fixed course, there could be no doubt about where they would end up.

"Looks like they're heading for the Forbidden Forest…"

Ron had never been into the Forbidden Forest before, and did not look eager to try it anytime soon. Harry did not mention it again until the end of class, by which time Hannah had lost interest. As Professor Sprout began escorting the class to their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry and Ron lagged behind the others so they could talk out of earshot.

"I'm following them, as soon as I can get away," Harry told Ron.

"Right," said Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously in his fingers. "Er — aren't there — aren't there supposed to be werewolves in the forest?" he added, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, that's an urban legend. Listen —" Harry said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I've snuck out at night before and have been all over the forest," he told a wide-eyed Ron, nearly saying "flown" instead if "been," but catching himself just in time. "Under the cloak," he added. "So I'll just take that, and I'll stay under there again this time."

"What about me?" Ron asked, his incredulity washing out his previous trepidation.

Harry had to tug on Ron's arm to get him moving again as the class continued on.

"I just thought… you might not want to go into the forest, and like I said, I've been in there loads of times —"

"I'm going with you," Ron stated with finality, and pulled his arm away from Harry to increase his pace until he was back alongside Dean in the cluster of students now bottlenecking through the castle doors.

As they continued on towards Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry revaluated his thinking, reprimanding himself for assuming Ron's fear of spiders would prevent him from wanting to do everything he could to help keep Hermione safe, Madam Pomfrey's concern about the culprit coming back to finish what they started with Hermione and the others likely hitting him as hard as it did Harry.

They made it to class without incident, and Lockhart bounded into the room. Every other teacher in the place was looking grimmer than usual, but Lockhart appeared nothing short of buoyant, and the class collectively stared at him for it.

"Come now," he cried, beaming around at them. "Why all these long faces?"

People swapped exasperated looks, but nobody answered.

"Don't you people realize," said Lockhart, speaking slowly, as though they were all a bit dim, "the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away —"

"Says who?" said Dean Thomas loudly.

"My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn't have taken Hagrid if he hadn't been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty," said Lockhart, in the tone of someone explaining that one and one made two.

"Actually, that's exactly what he would do, and did do," said Ron, even more loudly than Dean.

"I flatter myself I know a touch more about Hagrid's arrest than you do, Mr. Weasley," said Lockhart in a self-satisfied tone.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Harry kicked his foot under the table.

"We weren't there," Harry muttered.

Ron gave Harry a frustrated look of annoyance, but relented, slamming Gadding with Ghouls open loudly and refusing to make eye contact with Lockhart for the remainder of the class. Harry felt this was probably a good thing, as he kept imagining Ron losing control and throwing his book right into Lockhart's face. Despite his appreciation of such a move, it would likely lead to a detention, or worse, for Ron, which would leave Harry on his own to investigate the forest.

The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o'clock onward the Gryffindors had nowhere else to go. They also had plenty to talk about, with the result that the common room often didn't empty until past midnight.

Harry and Ron spent a long time sitting in the common room waiting for it to clear. Fred and George challenged them to a few games of Exploding Snap, and Ginny sat watching, very subdued in Hermione's usual chair. Harry and Ron kept losing on purpose, trying to finish the games quickly, but even so, it was well past midnight when Fred, George, and Ginny finally went to bed.

Harry and Ron waited for the distant sounds of two dormitory doors closing before seizing the cloak, throwing it over themselves, and climbing through the portrait hole.

It was another difficult journey through the castle, dodging all the teachers. At last they reached the entrance hall, slid back the lock on the oak front doors, squeezed between them, trying to stop any creaking, and stepped out into the moonlit grounds.

" 'Course," said Ron abruptly as they strode across the black grass, "we might get to the forest and find there's nothing to follow. Those spiders might not've been going there at all. I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but…"

His voice trailed away hopefully.

Once they were far enough away from the castle, Harry took out his wand and pulled the cloak up to let it peek out from the bottom of it.

"Lumos!"

A tiny light appeared at the end of his wand, just enough to let them watch the path for signs of spiders. Two solitary spiders were hurrying away from the wandlight into the shade of the trees.

"Okay," Ron sighed as though resigned to the worst, "Let's go."

They entered the forest. By the glow of Harry's wand, they followed the steady trickle of spiders moving along the path. They walked behind them for about twenty minutes, not speaking, listening hard for noises other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the trees had become thicker than ever, so that the stars overhead were no longer visible, and Harry's wand shone alone in the sea of dark, they saw their spider guides leaving the path.

"I think we'll have to take the cloak off," Harry said, and Ron nodded. It would not be possible for the both of them to try to squeeze through the brambles under it together.

Once the cloak was securely back in Harry's pocket, they paused, trying to see where the spiders were going, but everything outside the little sphere of light was pitch-black. He could have magicked stronger light sources, but was wary about causing too much of a commotion, both for anyone peering out the castle window, and for the inhabitants of the forest. The thought of Hagrid sitting in a cell in Azkaban at this very moment gave them the resolve to continue on through the darkness.

They followed the darting shadows of the spiders into the trees. They couldn't move very quickly now; there were tree roots and stumps in their way, barely visible in the near blackness. Poor Ron was at a heavy disadvantage against Harry's acute vision and the enhancements his glasses afforded him, and had to often be physically guided by Harry around obstacles.

They walked for what seemed like at least half an hour, their robes snagging on low-slung branches and brambles. After a while, they noticed that the ground seemed to be sloping downward, though the trees were as thick as ever.

Then Harry froze, putting his arm out to stop Ron, in between two sloping tree trunks.

"What?" said Ron loudly, looking around into the pitch-dark, and gripping Harry's elbow very hard.

"There's something moving over there," Harry breathed. "Listen… sounds like something big…"

They listened. Some distance to their right, the something big was snapping branches as it carved a path through the trees.

"Oh, no," said Ron. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh —"

"Quiet!" Harry ordered.

Ron clapped both hands to his mouth, his eyes opened to their stretching point trying to see what was headed their way, which even Harry could not yet make out. The darkness seemed to be pressing on their eyeballs as they stood, waiting. There was a strange clicking noise, and then silence.

"What d'you think it's doing?" said Harry.

"Probably getting ready to pounce," said Ron.

They waited, shivering, hardly daring to move.

"D'you think it's gone?" Harry whispered.

Ron didn't reply. He didn't move. His eyes were fixed on a point some ten feet above the forest floor, right behind Harry. His face was livid with terror.

Harry didn't even have time to turn around. There was a loud clicking noise directly behind him, and suddenly he felt something long and hairy seize him around the middle and lift him off the ground so that he was hanging facedown. Struggling, he heard more clicking, and saw Ron's legs leave the ground, too. Next moment, Harry watched him being swept away into the dark trees.

Head hanging, Harry saw that what had hold of him was marching on six immensely long, hairy legs, the front two clutching him tightly below a pair of shining black pincers. Behind him, he could hear another of the creatures, no doubt carrying Ron. They were moving into the very heart of the forest. The giant spider — what looked to Harry to be an Acromantula — was stronger than Harry would have thought, compressing Harry so tightly that it was uncomfortable to breathe. He could only imagine what it felt like to Ron. He sucked in a wheezing breath.

"You all right?" he managed to yell to Ron. The only response was a high-pitched whimper, but it at least told Harry that Ron was still breathing.

He never knew how long he was in the creature's clutches; he only knew that the darkness suddenly lifted enough for him to see that the leaf-strewn ground was now swarming with spiders. Craning his neck sideways, he realized that they had reached the ridge of a vast hollow, a hollow that had been cleared of trees, so that the stars shone brightly onto a scene that made Harry sorry he had allowed Ron to join him.

Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below. Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic. Harry was sure now that they were Acromantulas, magical spiders bred in the late seventeenth century in a failed experiment to create treasure-guarding creatures. The massive specimen that was carrying Harry made its way down the steep slope toward a misty, domed web in the very center of the hollow, while its fellows closed in all around it, clicking their pincers excitedly at the sight of its load.

Harry flipped right-side-up when the spider released him, landing at the ready. Ron thudded down next to him in something of a heap, and Harry moved into a defensive position in front of Ron, who looked exactly as terrified and traumatized as Harry had feared he would be, his mouth stretched wide in a kind of silent scream.

Harry suddenly realized that the spider that had dropped him was saying something. It had been hard to tell, because he clicked his pincers with every word he spoke.

"Aragog!" it called. "Aragog!"

From the middle of the misty, domed web, a spider the size of a small elephant slowly emerged. There was gray in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head was milky white. Harry thought him likely blind.

"What is it?" he said, clicking his pincers rapidly.

"Men," clicked the spider who had caught Harry.

"Is it Hagrid?" said Aragog, moving closer, his eight milky eyes wandering vaguely.

"Strangers," clicked the spider who had brought Ron.

"Kill them," clicked Aragog fretfully. "I was sleeping…"

"We're friends of Hagrid's," Harry shouted.

Click, click, click went the pincers of the spiders all around the hollow.

Aragog paused.

"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," he said slowly.

"Hagrid's in trouble," said Harry, breathing very fast. "That's why we've come."

"In trouble?" said the aged spider, and Harry thought he heard concern beneath the clicking pincers. "But why has he sent you?"

While in his mind he ran through the actions he could take if and when this situation went sideways, Harry worked to speak as calmly as he could.

"They think, up at the school, that Hagrid's been setting a — a — creature on students. They've taken him to Azkaban."

Aragog clicked his pincers furiously, and all around the hollow the sound was echoed by the crowd of spiders; it was like applause, but from an infuriated crowd about to charge the stage.

"But that was years ago," said Aragog fretfully. "Years and years ago. I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the school. They believed that I was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free."

"But you didn't come from the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry, his wand hand sliding across his leg until it rested atop the lump that was his pocket watch.

"Of course not!" said Aragog, clicking angrily. "I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid's goodness…"

"You might be able to help Hagrid now, if you could tell me anything more about what happened," Harry said, thinking this strategy might prove effective. Do you know who the girl was, or how she was killed? Knowing that might help us figure out who is doing it now, and clear Hagrid's name."

"No," croaked the old spider. "The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. Our kind like the dark and the quiet…"

"Okay… Well, we think we know what the actual monster is," said Harry. "We think it's a giant snake, specifically a —"

His words were cut off by a loud outbreak of clicking and the rustling of many long legs shifting angrily; large black shapes shifted all around him.

"We do not speak of it!" said Aragog fiercely. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dreaded creature, though he asked me, many times."

Harry didn't want to press the subject, as Aragog seemed to be tiring of their conversation. He was backing slowly into his domed web, but his fellow spiders continued to inch slowly closer toward Harry and Ron.

"We'll just go, then," Harry called to Aragog, hearing leaves rustling behind him.

"Go?" said Aragog slowly. "I think not…"

"But — but —"

"My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Good-bye, friend of Hagrid."

Harry spun around. Feet away, towering above him, was a solid wall of spiders, clicking, their many eyes gleaming in their ugly black heads.

Harry tapped his pocket watch, and his second wand flew into his left hand. He held both wands out sideways and called over his shoulder at Ron behind him.

"Grab onto me and don't let go!"

Ron complied, wrapping his arms around Harry's midsection.

"One last thing — it's important!" Harry yelled to the spiders loudly, throwing his magic into the words.

He knew that Acromantulas were a resilient species, hardened against the usual kind of connection and control Harry could facilitate with magical creatures, but he managed enough effort so that the spiders advancing on them were startled into hesitation.

Aragog stood still for a moment, likely confused and possibly worried that Harry had circumvented his order, then spoke quietly.

"Out of respect for Hagrid, I will allow you the privilege of your last words."

Harry maintained his magic, fighting hard. He knew the effect that song could have on increasing the magical control of creatures, and so began to quietly sing the first song that popped into his head.

"The incy wincy spider climbed up the water spout…"

Aragog's pincers twitched, and his head cocked to one side, listening in confusion.

"Down came the rain and washed the spider out…"

"What the hell are you —" a flummoxed Ron started during this line, but it was replaced by a yelp when a torrent of water exploded from each of Harry's wands.

Harry spun his whole body quickly, reminding him of de-gnoming the Weasley's garden, with Ron holding on for dear life behind him. Around them, the spiders lost their footing and began to be pushed back by the sheer amounts of water flooding into the clearing in a great circular wave from both of Harry's wands. Terrible screeching's cut through the already thunderous sound of thousands of gallons of water crashing into the hollow. Aragog was yelling something at his children, but it was impossible to hear over the noise.

When the nearest spider was a good twenty feet away, Harry lowered his wands so that they were facing downwards, maintaining the spells from each so that the extreme force of the water was like the funnel of a rocket engine, propelling him and Ron into the air. Harry tilted his head back, navigating around branches, nearly losing Ron at one point as they exploded through the canopy of trees and away towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

It was a rough landing when he was finally able to guide them to safety, and Harry had to pull Ron around in front of him and use his arms and legs as a shield as the pair of them rolled and somersaulted to a stop behind Hagrid's cabin.

After checking to make sure Ron was not seriously injured, Harry got to his feet, glad that he had done so when Ron vomited violently directly into the spot which Harry had just vacated.

"Follow the spiders," Ron said weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I'll never forgive Hagrid. We're lucky to be alive."

"I bet he thought Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his," said Harry.

"That's exactly Hagrid's problem!" said Ron, thumping the ground with his fist. "He always thinks monsters aren't as bad as they're made out, and look where it's got him! A cell in Azkaban!" He was shivering uncontrollably now. "What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out that we didn't already know?"

"We confirmed that Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry, throwing the cloak over Ron and prodding him in the arm to make him walk.

Ron gave a loud snort. "So what?"

"And we learned something else," Harry said as they trudged back towards the castle, their robes soaked. "Aragog said the girl who was killed was found in a bathroom. What if she never left the bathroom? What if she's still there?"

Ron rubbed his eyes, frowning through the moonlight. He turned abruptly towards Harry when the realization hit him.

"You don't think — not Moaning Myrtle?"

"All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," said Ron bitterly at breakfast next day. "We could've asked her anytime, but no — no, we decided instead to listen to Hagrid and fo—"

Harry threw a dollop of ketchup onto the kippers on Ron's plate, which had just the effect Harry was hoping for in shutting Ron up. No one at the breakfast table seemed to be listening anyway, but Harry did not want to take any chances. Ron stared at his plate.

Now swapping his own kippers for Ron's, Harry whispered, "We'll go talk to her as soon as possible."

It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into a bathroom — the girls' bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, proved to be even more difficult.

Harry first attempted it on his own that evening, once again utilizing his Snidget form to fly to the first floor corridor in the dead of night. At first peering cautiously around the corner, he saw no one standing guard. He had nearly been too late sensing the invisible, magical barrier that had been erected around the area, darting off at an angle at the last possible moment. Shaken by the near miss, he had retreated for an hour before returning under his Invisibility Cloak to evaluate the barrier.

He spent the next two days working out how to defeat it, until he was confident that he could now do so without detection. More good news came in the form of Professor McGonagall telling them at breakfast that morning that Professor Sprout had informed her that the Mandrakes were ready for cutting, which meant that they would be able to revive those who had been petrified this very evening.

"One of them is bound to be able to tell us who was setting the Basilisk loose!" Ron said excitedly.

Just then, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and Harry noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.

"What's up?" said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.

Ginny didn't say anything, but glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on her face that reminded Harry of someone, though he couldn't think who.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.

Harry suddenly realized who Ginny looked like. She was rocking backward and forward slightly in her chair, exactly like Dobby did when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.

"I've got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry.

"What is it?" said Harry, unable to stop himself, as he had a feeling this was important.

Ginny looked as though she couldn't find the right words.

"What?" said Ron.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only Ginny and Ron could hear him.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Ginny drew a deep breath, but at that precise moment, Percy Weasley appeared looking tired and wan.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.

"Percy!" said Ron angrily. "She was just about to tell us something important!"

Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked.

"What sort of thing?" he said, coughing.

"I just asked her if she'd seen anything odd, and she started to say —"

"Oh — that — that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy at once.

"How do you know?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was — well, never mind — the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather —"

Harry had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable.

"Percy," he said seriously. "I… You're going to have to tell us. You must know how this looks."

At Percy's continued nonchalance, Harry pulled out the big guns.

"As a prefect, I'm sure you can understand that if Ginny had something important to say, and you stopped her from saying it, we'll have to go to McGonagall about it."

Percy choked on his tea again, looking at Harry with wide eyes. Harry made certain that his face reflected the serious nature of his words. Putting down his mug, Percy looked around the table as if to check who had heard their conversation so far, and then leaned closer to Harry and Ron.

"Fine," he said somewhat testily. "If you must know, Ginny walked in on me… kissing my girlfriend, which happens to be Penelope Clearwater."

Ignoring Ron's gaping look of amusement, Harry looked hard into Percy's eyes, also noting the waver in his voice when he said the name aloud. He was certain that Percy was telling the truth.

"As you can imagine, the past few weeks have been rather difficult for me, so I would appreciate your discretion, and I don't think there is a need to discuss this further."

Percy went about filling his plate, and Harry took Ron's elbow, pulling him up away from the table.

"Yeah, no worries," Harry said, ignoring Ron's protests. "Sorry," he added somewhat lamely as he and Ron walked away to their first class.

Harry knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without their help, but he was still determined to make an attempt tonight to talk to Myrtle. Remarkably, an opportunity to do so came even sooner at midmorning when they were being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong each time, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; he had apparently been up most of the night patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be 'It was Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

"I agree, sir," said Harry, making Ron drop his books in surprise. "Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night…"

"That's right," said Ron, catching on. "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go —"

"You know, Weasley, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go and prepare my next class —"

And he hurried off.

"Prepare his class," Ron sneered after him. "Gone to curl his hair, more like."

They let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of them, then darted down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other on their brilliant scheme —

"Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?"

It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines.

"We were — we were —" Ron stammered. "We were going to — to go and see —"

"Hermione," said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him.

"We haven't seen her for ages, Professor," Harry went on hurriedly, "and we thought we'd sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —"

Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to reprimand him, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.

"Of course," she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been… I quite understand. Yes, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

Harry and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"That," said Ron fervently, "was the best lie you've ever come up with."

"As far as you know," Harry said cheekily.

They had no choice now but to actually go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit Hermione, just in case McGonagall asked her about it later.

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no point talking to a Petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she had a point after they'd taken their seats next to Hermione. It was plain that she didn't have the faintest inkling that she had visitors, and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry, for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know…"

But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Ron.

"Try and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey's view.

It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it. While Ron kept watch he tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free.

On it, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognized as Hermione's. Pipes.

"Pipes," Harry read aloud. "Pipes… Ron, it's been using the plumbing. That's why it always sounded like the voice was coming from the castle itself. It's been coming from behind the walls!"

Ron suddenly grabbed Harry's arm.

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" he said hoarsely. "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in —"

"— Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," said Harry.

They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly able to believe it.

"What're we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. "Should we still go talk to Myrtle, or tell McGonagall?"

Harry thought about it. There was a nearly overwhelming urge to dart immediately for Myrtle's bathroom and investigate, but his thoughts shifted to Dumbledore. He would want Harry to go to McGonagall, and Harry could think of no reason to not do exactly that.

"Let's go to the staffroom," said Harry, jumping up. "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staffroom. It was a large, panelled room full of dark, wooden chairs. Harry and Ron paced around it, too excited to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

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

Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron. "Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staffroom door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived. "It has happened," she told the silent staffroom. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'" Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him. Harry's own eyes widened in shock.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I — well, I —" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall —"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Harry marvelled at the fact that he was actually admiring Snape, albeit for a brief moment.

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues. "I — I really never — you may have misunderstood —"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to his rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll — I'll be in my office, getting — getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

It was probably the worst day of Harry's entire life. He, Ron, Fred, and George sat together in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, unable to say anything to each other. Percy wasn't there. He had gone to send an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, then shut himself up in his dormitory.

No afternoon ever lasted as long as that one, nor had Gryffindor Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. Near sunset, Fred and George went up to bed, unable to sit there any longer.

"She knew something, Harry," said Ron, speaking for the first time since they had entered the wardrobe in the staffroom. "That's why she was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Percy at all. She'd found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was —" Ron rubbed his eyes frantically. "I mean, she's a pureblood. There can't be any other reason."

Harry could see the sun sinking, blood-red, below the skyline. His mind had been miles away, and he had to take a moment to replay Ron's words in his head.

"Harry," Ron went on, "d'you think there's any chance at all she's not — you know —"

From the moment they had heard that Ginny had been taken, Harry's resolve and his anger had been growing in equal measure, until now it had reached its saturation. He stood up.

"I'm going to get her," he stated, not bothering to lower his voice, and earning some looks from those near him and Ron. "Wait fifteen minutes, and then tell McGonagall where I've gone."

Harry ignored everyone's looks, not even bothering to don his cloak as he headed out of the portrait hole. The moment he was in the corridor, he changed to his eagle form and dived straight down the stairwell, changing back to human form on the first floor and immediately drawing his wand, casting the spells that would cancel the protection around Myrtle's bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Harry.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry hurried over to it. It looked like an ordinary sink. He examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry saw it: Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as he tried to turn it.

Harry thought hard, then it came to him: Parseltongue. He looked back at the snake, willing himself to believe it was alive. If he moved his head, the candlelight made it look as though it were moving.

"Open up," he said.

Except that the words weren't what he heard; a strange hissing had escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Without hesitation, Harry jumped into it. It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as this one, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and he knew that he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons.

And then, just as Harry had begun to wonder if he might have fallen into a never-ending trap, the pipe levelled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. He estimated that he might very well be under the Black Lake at this point. He lit his wand and set off, his footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

The tunnel was so dark that he could only see a little distance ahead, his shadows on the wet walls looking monstrous in the wandlight. It was equally quiet, and the first unexpected sound he heard was a loud crunch as he stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. He lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Ginny might look like when he found her, Harry continued forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

Once he cleared it, Harry could just see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving. He tapped the side of his glasses to aid his night vision, and then very slowly edged forward, his wand held high. The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

Good, Harry thought. Now I know how big it is. Already formulating attack strategies, he set off past the giant, hollow skin. The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Harry's body was tingling in anticipation for what lay ahead. And then, at last, as he crept around yet another bend, he saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

Harry approached. The snakes' eyes looked strangely alive. He could guess what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker.

"Open," said Harry, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry, feeling a burning determination, walked inside.

Harry took in his surroundings and then set off at once down the long, dimly lit chamber in which he now found himself. This was clearly Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, with towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents, which rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

There was nothing here that did not make Harry uneasy. His right hand vibrated, he was holding his wand so tightly, and he had nearly summoned his other wand from his pocket watch several times now. Every careful footstep he took echoed loudly off the shadowy walls, and he had to work to calm his nerves. It didn't help that the hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes he passed seemed to be following him.

When he drew level with the last pair of pillars, Harry could see that this was the end of the Chamber where, against the back wall, a grotesque statue of Salazar Slytherin as tall as the Chamber itself stood looking over it all. Between its enormous grey feet, Harry saw a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

"Ginny!" Harry muttered, casting detection spells even as he started moving forward, surprised when he found no trap waiting for him.

Soon he was kneeling next to Ginny's prone form, tapping his glasses and looking her up and down as his hand went to the back of her head, lifting it away from the cold stone floor. Harry did not like feeling that Ginny's skin was nearly as cold.

"Ginny, can you hear me?" he said quietly, cradling Ginny's head and placing his other hand against her cheek. He could feel her in there; she was not petrified, but something was draining her energy. Something right behind Harry.

"She won't wake," came a soft voice from exactly that location.

Harry did not have to turn around to know that some form of the Tom Riddle memory would be there. He carefully lowered Ginny's head and stood up, his mind spinning.

If it had been Ginny all along… Harry matched together events, in order, in his mind, finding that everything lined up. Thinking back to Flourish and Blotts, the day they had met Lockhart, and the day Mr. Weasley had quarrelled with Mr. Malfoy, Harry saw it in his mind. Draco's father had slipped the diary into the pile of books that had flown from Ginny's cauldron. When she and Hermione had collected them, they had included the diary, just as Mr. Malfoy had surely intended.

The problem with knowing that Ginny might have been writing in this diary was that it was likely that she would have mentioned Harry's name and fame, which Riddle would have grasped onto, seizing the chance to use Ginny's interest in Harry's story to his advantage. There was a very real possibility that Riddle knew precisely what was in store for his future self against Harry Potter. Turning around, he saw the diary now just by Riddle's feet, and when Harry looked into his eyes, he knew for certain that Riddle was aware of his fate to the boy standing in front of him.

Tall and black-haired, looking nearly identical to the memory from the diary, Riddle was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. Harry noted that the form of Riddle was blurred around the edges; the physicality of the teenage memory was not quite whole yet, but there was no mistaking that Riddle's mind was all there.

"Tom Riddle," Harry stated.

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry asked when Riddle showed no sign of saying anything.

Still, Riddle said nothing, just watching Harry. Maybe the memory was not whole enough to carry on a conversation? And for that matter…

"How are you here, anyway?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion. Asking the question aloud, and watching Riddle's eyes flick to Ginny when he did, made Harry think he knew what might be going on here, even if he did not understand how it was happening.

"She's still alive," Riddle finally said. "But only just."

He looked to Ginny, feigning compassion, and Harry saw right through it. Did he see the lie so clearly because he knew what Riddle really was? Or were people still berating themselves to this day for not seeing what Harry found to be so obvious in regards to the young Tom Riddle?

"Okay, but why? What happened to her? And while you're answering questions, try again with telling me how you're here. Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force, the idea to do so coming to him as if from a vision, though he had no specific vision with which to match the idea. Harry somehow knew the effect the words and their delivery would have on Riddle, which was to completely fluster him out of his little performance. Indeed, he was now looking at Harry with raw confusion and concern. Harry replied with a knowing smile, even if he actually had no idea what had inspired him to say it.

Now recovering, Riddle slipped back into character.

"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"Go on," said Harry, crossing his arms and finding his own pillar to lean against. He tried to make the movement seem casual, but was worried that he was being as transparent as Riddle was. He had just now realized the error he had made when he had dashed to Ginny's side, placing his wand upon the cold, stone floor when he did so. His wand was no longer there, which likely meant that the phantom Riddle was whole enough to have taken it.

"The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school knowing only one girl her age" — Riddle's eyes glinted — "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…"

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost hungry look in them. Harry never looked away, willing himself to see into and through those eyes, but it seemed that Legilimency did not work on a memory.

"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," Riddle went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…"

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.

"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted… I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…"

Harry said nothing. He had already surmised about as much regarding the situation, and Riddle still was not explaining the mechanics of what was happening to Ginny, so he was getting no new information. Besides, Riddle's mannerisms and tone showed Harry that he was enjoying portraying himself as the main character, and wanted Harry to ask him more questions to show his interest. Harry would do no such thing.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly after a few moments of silence.

"I don't have to guess. I feel like it's pretty obvious," Harry said, cutting Riddle off as he was about to go on with his story. "You made Ginny open the Chamber of Secrets."

There was a pause.

"Yes," said Riddle calmly, clearly trying to maintain his control over the conversation. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became… Dear Tom…"

Riddle went on trying to fill Harry in on the behind-the-scenes details of how Ginny fit in with the events revolving around the Chamber of Secrets this year. Harry lost interest immediately, checking again on Ginny and then going as far as to move around the Chamber, examining some of the ornate architecture and decorations, playing his own part of making sure Riddle understood completely that Harry was not at all riveted or even interested in his tale.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle somewhat more loudly from where he still stood.

Harry allowed himself a smile for having been clearly successful at getting under Riddle's skin, then schooled his features and began walking back as Riddle went on.

"But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet…"

Harry nodded. "So Ginny," said Harry, pausing to make quotation marks in the air with his fingers. " 'Stupid little Ginny' figured out exactly what you were doing and threw you in a toilet, and then you lured me here to convince me that you're an amazing mastermind…" He raised an eyebrow. "…even though everyone is going to be just fine tonight, anyway."

"Ginny was a pawn, Harry," Riddle said without missing a beat, and it made Harry wonder if he might have anticipated this argument. "I used her to get to you." His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, and their expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust —"

"Right, then you knew a toilet was the way to get to me, because everyone knows I love toilets," Harry said dryly. Riddle just stared at him. "Enough," Harry said loudly, changing tactics to keep Riddle unbalanced. "Here I am. What could you possibly want?"

Harry would have normally preferred that Riddle keep talking, sharing with Harry the nuances of his young personality so that Harry could have more ammunition against the current-day Lord Voldemort, but he was worried about Ginny, thinking it possible that Riddle was just trying to stall to give himself more time to do whatever he was doing to try to draw away Ginny's soul, or possibly replace hers with his own, so that Riddle would be born anew within Ginny's body.

There was a change on Riddle's face. He seemed to at last recognize that he had miscalculated regarding his ability to manipulate Harry.

"I have many questions for you, Harry Potter," Riddle said.

"Such as?" Harry said with a sigh of irritated boredom, crossing his arms, which had the benefit of placing his left hand directly atop the bulge of his pocket watch.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you — a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent — managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

"Why do you care?" said Harry, doing everything he could to come across as sincerely wondering, which he wasn't. "Voldemort was after your time…"

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter…"

He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

DILDO LOVER RAT-MOM

"You see?" Riddle whispered.

Harry let his face curl deeper and deeper into a look of blistering and disturbed confusion, shifting his eyes back and forth between the words and Riddle until he forced the boy to look more closely at what he had written. When it happened, it took all Harry had to not crack a smile. He had calculated the different arrangement possibilities of the letters once he realized what Riddle was doing, and rearranged them wandlessly into one of his favorites.

Riddle did a triple take, then went as far as to walk around to the front of the sparking letters to read it properly.

"I mean, to each their own," Harry said. "But it's kind of a weird thing to talk to a twelve-year-old about. I think I'm starting to see why Ginny tried to flush you down a toilet."

When Riddle turned back around, the letters dissipating into the air as his robes whirled through their space, there was no hint of any pretense in the look of hatred he was giving Harry, and his fingers were clenched tightly around Harry's wand.

"You know who I am," Riddle spat. "I learned from Ginny how the world has come to fear and respect the name I chose for myself — what I have become! I am the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"The world?" Harry questioned. "I mean, the world is big. The U.K. has only a small population of wizards, compared to… compared to basically everywhere! I mean I guess it could be, technically possible… but I feel like, I dunno — getting beaten by a baby probably isn't on the list qualifying you for such a title. Greatest sorcerer in the world…" Harry shook his head as if disappointed in a toddler.

"Besides, the general consensus is that Albus Dumbledore is in actuality quite possibly the greatest sorcerer in the world. And from that memory you showed me, he was onto you even in your day, which I guess explains how you never really amounted to anything."

The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He's not gone," Harry retorted, and he enjoyed the look of panic that flashed across Riddle's pale face.

It seemed to take a moment for Riddle to come to understand that Harry was being metaphorical. He opened his mouth to no doubt say something horrible, but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, and unearthly; and yet it lifted the hair on Harry's scalp, making his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and smiled at Fawkes, even if he was a bit confused as to his appearance. Fawkes stop singing, and sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle.

"That's a phoenix…" said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"Dumbledore's phoenix" Harry said with satisfaction. He felt the bird's golden claws squeeze his shoulder gently.

"And that —" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat —"

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry's feet.

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark Chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once —

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

Harry hesitated, thinking about the question. He decided to answer truthfully, but Riddle spoke before he could.

"To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice — in your past, in my future — we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

"Jesus," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Plain and simple, I survived because you're not as great as you think you are. It was my Muggle-born mother who stopped you the first time, and last year was a joke — you should see yourself now…"

Harry shook his head theatrically. He was enjoying the steady fall of Riddle's face as his confidence shattered. Harry opened his mouth to continue, but stopped when his eyes happened to fall on the Sorting Hat on the chamber floor. As he stared at it for a moment, thinking, Riddle seized on the shift in momentum, casting a disdainful look over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then walking away until he was between the high pillars. Riddle looked up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness, and then opened his mouth wide and hissed — but Harry understood what he was saying.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

Harry looked up at the statue, Fawkes swaying on his shoulder. Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Harry saw the statue's mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.

Something was stirring inside the statue's mouth, slithering up from its depths. Harry continued watching, knowing he had an important decision to make. The gaze of the basilisk was lethal to anyone who made direct eye contact with it… only, Harry was not just anyone, especially when it came to magical creatures. In his mind, Harry was somehow certain that he could look into a basilisk's eyes without having any harm come to him. Actually following through on this confidence was another thing, as the cost of being incorrect would be instant death.

Harry looked down, trying to steel himself, but again the image of the Sorting Hat distracted him…

Of course! Harry realized. This is what he had seen in the vision! At that realization, he felt Fawkes' wing sweep his cheek as he took flight off of Harry's shoulder.

A second later, something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Harry felt it shudder — he knew what was happening, he could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth.

Then he heard Riddle's hissing voice:

"Kill him."

The basilisk was moving toward Harry; he could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Deciding to trust his instincts, Harry abandoned any misgivings and looked up. The sight was nearly identical to what Harry had been picturing. The basilisk was huge, moving towards him now in a serpentine motion. Harry stood his ground and watched it, until it stopped about twenty feet from him and reared its head back, now staring directly at Harry, who lifted his chin and stared directly back… then laughed out loud.

The first amusing sight was that of Tom Riddle, looking back and forth between Harry and the basilisk, openly bewildered and fearful as he took in the sight of Harry looking directly into its eyes without any hint of trouble. But the real cause of Harry's amusement was the comical nature of the basilisk's eyes, each of which moved independently, making its gaze look like that of a simple lizard rather than the king of serpents. The way its eyes just jiggled around gave it a cartoonish appearance, as if it had been drawn by a child.

"I'm actually really sorry about this," Harry said to the snake, and found that he meant it. Regardless, he still bent down to pick up the Sorting Hat, determined to see his vision through. He placed one hand inside, then shifted his eyes to Riddle.

The look of shock Riddle had been wearing was now replaced with a quiet rage. Harry looked at Riddle's knuckles turning white around Harry's wand, but was certain in that moment that his own anger eclipsed Riddle's. At once, his second wand slapped into his hand from its hidden location inside his pocket watch.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry called in an annoyed voice, because it was annoying to see another wizard holding his wand, but that issue was quickly resolved.

When Harry's holly wand pulled away violently even after Riddle had managed to cast a shield charm against Harry's spell, Harry wished he could have relished in the look on Tom's face, but at that same moment, the basilisk decided to strike.

It was as if Riddle had momentarily forgotten about the snake, jumping when it rushed past him in waves of scales and sounds, coming after Harry. The snake opened its mouth wide, giving Harry a glimpse of a mouth big enough to swallow him whole, lined with fangs as tall as Colin Creevey.

Harry tried in vain to communicate with the basilisk, but was blocked by the strength of the connection already existing between it and Riddle. Harry thought he might be able to eventually tear through it, but doubted he had the time now. The snake struck at once, forcing Harry to stow his wands and leap high at an upward angle, hit feet landing on the side of a pillar, from which Harry leapt yet again, away in an arc as the snake struck a second time, crashing into the pillar with enough force to make the chamber shudder.

Harry ran to another pillar and climbed higher than the snake itself as it coiled in a circle to try to keep Harry in its sights. Harry predicted the snake's movement and propelled himself across the chamber. While in mid-air, he drew his wand and produced a thick chain of lightning which coiled around the basilisk's neck like a whip. Harry held onto his wand with both hands and swung himself around the snake in a full circle, tightening the sizzling lightning around the soft flesh below the basilisk's jaw.

While at first effective in slowing the snake down, this did not last long. With one enormous, rippling wiggle of its body, it smacked into Harry just as he was landing, severing the spell and freeing the basilisk from the lightning whip. Somewhat shaken by the incredibly hard hit of the snake's body, Harry blinked for a second before sensing that the basilisk was rising to strike again. Realizing that Ginny was directly behind him now, Harry knew that his top priority needed to be to get the basilisk as far away from her as possible, to keep her getting hurt in this fight.

He dashed to the side, deciding to stay on the ground to stay nice and visible so that he could lure the snake away. It appeared to work — the basilisk was clearly positioning itself to come after Harry, who was moving steadily away from…

Harry stopped.

The Sorting Hat, which he had tucked into his belt, had just increased in weight substantially. At first, Harry thought that something was somehow pulling it, but no… that wasn't it…

He could hear the snake coming his way, hear Riddle's Parseltongue egging it on, but Harry's senses shifted to the Sorting Hat, and in that moment, he was reliving his vision. This was the precise moment he had already Seen, happening now. He put his hand into the Sorting hat, exactly as he had Seen, and felt something heavy and metal, pulling out the hilt exactly as he had already knew he would do. Only now, he had a perfectly clear view of the sword that had somehow been in the hat.

Huge and silver, with a sleek hilt encrusted with rubies, Harry managed to pull it out of the hat, feeling its weight at the end of his arm, even with his considerable strength. He had an urge to examine it closely, but was quite aware of the more pressing issue of the moment.

Moving eight inches to his right, Harry dropped to a knee and shifted his shoulders as the entirety of the basilisk's mouth enveloped him, Harry having just enough speed to avoid the fangs. Throwing his full strength into it, Harry thrust the sword straight up and into the roof of the basilisk's mouth. The snake responded by pulling its head away, the sword remaining steadfast in Harry's grip. As the mouth retreated from around him, Harry felt something sharp rake across his back. The basilisk did not get far; it keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Wincing, Harry used the sword to help him stand up, dropping it to the floor at a sharp pain in his back, and reaching around where, to his surprise, he felt something. Thinking he knew what it was, but hoping he was wrong, he stretched his arm to grab the protrusion, then pulled it out of his back, knowing before he even looked at the fang tip in his hand what he was holding, and what it meant. His head shot up, looking around the chamber. He likely had only one chance…

"Fawkes!" Harry cried, but it was weak, and when he took a step, he could not get his foot to land properly, and fell, barely catching himself with his elbows. "…fuck…shit…" Harry crawled forward, knowing too well that he might have defeated Slytherin's monster, but Slytherin's heir was still growing more powerful as Riddle continued syphoned Ginny's life away.

Tom Riddle made no attempt to interfere with Harry's certain demise, likely enjoying the sight of his doing and considering the whole ordeal to be a total win. The basilisk might be dead, but so also would Harry Potter soon be. Only when Harry could go no further did Tom decide to goad him.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you know what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

Harry blinked and tried to look over his shoulder. Fawkes had landed on his back. He was moving in and out of Harry's dying focus, but Harry was sure he saw thick, pearly tears trickling down the glossy feathers and onto Harry's back, and soon he could feel them as well.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Harry began to laugh, straining his neck up to look at Riddle, who looked satisfyingly confused.

"Are you actually this stupid?" Harry said more loudly than he intended, his strength rushing back into him.

"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him — I said, get away —"

Wandless, Riddle resorted to hand gestured, attempting to shoo Fawkes off of Harry, but it was too late. Fawkes rose of his own accord, clapping Riddles fingers nastily as he took flight.

"Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry as he stood, steady and erect. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"

He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…"

"I'd like to thank you," Harry started, "for giving me so much insight into a young Tom Riddle." Harry shook his head. "Seriously — you showed me things and told me things that are not going to be to your advantage in the here and now."

"I am the here and —"

Harry shot forward and pressed the diary he had just picked up flat against Riddle's chest, simultaneously plunging the basilisk fang in his other hand straight through the center of the book, and right into the center of Riddle's heart.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then…

He was gone. The diary and basilisk fang dropped to the ground, and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Harry moved at once to Ginny, elated when she began to stir. She tried to sit up, and Harry helped her. She blinked, and then her bemused eyes travelled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.

"Harry — oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy — it was me, Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and — how did you kill that — that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —"

"He's gone," said Harry, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the fang hole, "Riddle's completely gone, forever — him and the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get you out of here —"

"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Harry helped her to her feet. Her one hand was clinging desperately to his forearm. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and — w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"

Harry walked with her, letting her vocalize anything and everything she had been keeping bottled up all year. When the chance arose, he pointed things out to try to help her not be so worried, but made no attempt to belittle what had happened to her. When they got to the Chamber entrance, Fawkes was waiting for them. The sight of him seemed to distract Ginny.

Fawkes followed as Harry urged Ginny forward; they stepped through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. Harry heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss as he guided Ginny to the bottom of the pipe he had slid down. By now, Ginny was lamenting everything again, and Harry wondered if what he had been saying had been enough.

"Listen," he said after a glance at Fawkes, who Harry was certain was on the same page he was on how they might get out of here. He looked into Ginny's eyes, and took a moment to compose what he wanted to say. "Terrible things happened to you. I am furious with myself for not having seen it going on."

Ginny made to say something, but Harry kept going.

"As far as I'm concerned, we all failed you. If that had been happening to Ron, or Hermione, or any of my —"

He had been about to say any of his friends, but that only managed to drive home the point he was suddenly realizing — that he had not embraced Ginny as a friend, all because of a little crush she had on him. If it had been Neville, or Susan, or Hannah, Harry would have known something was wrong. He closed his eyes, hating himself a little bit, but also not wanting to feel sorry for himself when he was not the victim here — Ginny was.

"I wish I could change that," Harry said sincerely, and took Ginny's hand in his own, looking down at it.

On his other arm, Ginny's grip loosened, and she slid it down to hold his other hand as well.

"So I'm gonna do three things," Harry said, still looking at their hands. "First off, I'm just going to put it out in the open so it isn't weird anymore: I know you have a crush on me, or whatever."

He felt Ginny's hands start to slip away, and he planned to let her if she really wanted to pull away, but did tighten his grip for now.

"But the thing is, I think you're cute," Harry said with a shrug, and finally looked at Ginny again. "You're actually super cute, but we don't even really know each other. I'd just like a reboot of getting to know you, hopefully without it being weird."

Ginny's face rotated through so many emotions that Harry almost stopped trying to discern them, but it was incredibly fascinating. Finally, she managed to speak.

"Okay."

It was not much, but it seemed right for the moment. Harry smiled.

"The third thing I'm going to do —"

A flash of golden flames exploded next to them. Ginny shielded her eyes, and Harry drew his wand, but it was instantly clear that the tumult of light and sound had been caused by Fawkes vanishing from where he had been right next to them both.

"Er…" Harry said, looking around the hall but finding no hint of where Fawkes had gone.

The "third thing" he had been about to do was to ask Fawkes to take them out of here, and he told Ginny as much.

"Where did he go?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno, but it's fine," Harry said, considering his options.

He had never attempted to use the Lord Ring to transport anyone but himself, but was almost certain that it would work to include Ginny, if she were in contact with it and close enough to him, and as long as it was Harry's will to allow her to go with him. He barely had time to come to the decision to try it when there was another flash of flame and Fawkes returned, and this time he had brought company.

The speed with which Dumbledore moved was even more surprising than the fact that he was there at all, darting out of the flames before they had even dissipated. He was in front of Harry and Ginny so quickly that Ginny cowered behind Harry, clutching at his robes.

"We're fine!" Harry said, holding his hands up against Dumbledore's intensity as the wizard's eyes darted around the chamber. "It's over, Professor."

After looking into Dumbledore's electric-blue eyes long enough to convey the sincerity of his statement, Harry peered around him to where Fawkes had appeared, seeing a man he recognized as working for the Daily Prophet, who was holding a camera and already taking photographs of the scene. Harry looked back up at Dumbledore.

"I was reinstated," the headmaster said simply.

"Ginny and I…" Harry glanced at the photographer. "…did a couple of things."

"Harry did," Ginny piped up from behind him, now fully pressed against his back.

Dumbledore looked at them both curiously for a moment before speaking again.

"Minister Fudge, upon returning with me to Hogwarts, insisted we bring someone from the Daily Prophet, which had been hounding his office demanding access to the school. It seems that someone had provided the paper with an anonymous tip about dangerous and dire events transpiring here tonight. When it came time to go into the Chamber itself, Mr. Fudge declined my offer to tag along, but Mr. Hodgkins here was more than happy to accompany me."

The photographer had now come up to their little group. He looked to Harry and Ginny.

"You two responsible for this, then?" he asked, gesturing at the slain basilisk. "This was Slytherin's monster, was it?"

"Any questions you have, you may submit in writing. I will not tell you again — if you have a question, you may ask me. You do not have my permission to speak to the students directly," Dumbledore said with authority.

"Yeah, all right," the photographer said without looking at Dumbledore, his eyes darting around at the scene. "How about we get a few pictures with Harry next to the snake? The great conqueror and all that?"

Dumbledore looked down at Harry, his patience clearly wearing thin, but Harry nodded his agreement, and the next few minutes were spent setting up a picture of Harry standing proudly in front of the basilisk, posing with the sword he had used to slay it.

"All right — girl, why don't you get in here as well," the photographer called over his shoulder as he reloaded his flash powder.

"Fawkes," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry caught the briefest of glances from the headmaster to his Phoenix, and the next thing he knew, Fawkes had flapped over to the photographer, grabbed the man's shoulders in his talons, and flashed both of them away in an eruption of flames, the sound echoing into the silence of the chamber.

"I did warn him," Dumbledore said regretfully. "Fawkes has returned him to the offices of the Daily Prophet, where I am certain he is already happily developing his once-in-a-lifetime photographs, so it would not do to pity the man."

He and Harry walked back over to Ginny, Harry being certain to bring the sword and the diary, which was now concealed in his pocket.

"When he came to find me, Fawkes was kind enough to convey that the two of you were safe. While I conveyed as much to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I am certain that they have waited long enough to see you with their own eyes. They are currently waiting in Professor McGonagall's office."

Dumbledore offered his arm. Harry took it, and then handed the sword over to Dumbledore, pulling Ginny against him with his other arm, making a note to apologize later for getting basilisk blood all over her in the process, but not feeling at all actually sorry for wanting to keep her close.

Surveying their grip on him, Dumbledore nodded in apparent satisfaction, then raised above his head the arm holding the sword. At once, Fawkes flew above them, clutching at Dumbledore's closed hand. There was a blinding light and an intensely comforting warmth, and then they were in the hallway outside Professor McGonagall's office. Dumbledore knocked, then pushed the door open and gestured Harry and Ginny inside.