38.Alone in the Darkness

28th of October, Wednesday

Harry

Monster hunting is a dangerous endeavour, but if there’s one advantage wizard folk have over magical beasts, it’s preparation. Potions that make you quicker, or your mind-sharper, protective clothing, enchantments to neutralise or even reduce the danger, portkeys to get you out of sticky situations where you can’t gather enough focus or magic to apparate–each advantage can save your life, especially in cases when you’re venturing into the hunting business alone.

At the very least, preparations should cover your weakness and try to counter the strength of your prey.

Contrary to what everyone thought, Harry was no genius. Perhaps he was very good at magic and could push himself to train all the time, but that was the extent of his so-called genius. He was alone in his self-imposed quest, and he could only rely on the wisdom and experience of others to fill in for his many deficiencies. Most of the tips Harmond wrote in his guide were sensible and made him feel like a fool for not thinking of them earlier, but now, Harry was no longer blindly rushing into danger and instead planned to walk in calmly with open eyes.

While Harry was fervently preparing, the tension in Hogwarts had grown palpable.

One evening, Dumbledore made an uncharacteristically solemn announcement.

“As any teacher, I know blood can run hot in youth, and I have always enjoyed a good prank or some well-measured mischief. But attacking your schoolmates with malice is not something I can forgive.” His twinkling blue eyes were hard and bereft of cheer as his heavy gaze slowly roamed over the students as if trying to find the culprit. “I urge you to remain calm and report any trouble to the staff. Hogwarts is not a place for wanton violence, and the school staff will not tolerate such senseless displays of ill-will, as a few daring souls found out for themselves by trying to stir the cauldron.”

Half the Great Hall looked at some of the older Slytherins and Gryffindors who had tried to hex, jinx, or even duel each other–the worst offenders were promptly sent off to Hagrid to shovel dragon dung by hand while wearing pink robes.

The school had been more tense than usual for over a week now; Dumbledore’s speech had helped ease many, and the teachers kept things in order—the curfews were strictly imposed, and any incidents or troublemakers were punished harshly.

Some students used the strange occasion of mayhem to throw jinxes and hexes at whoever they didn’t like. Such things were met with severe detentions, however, with older years scrubbing the hallways becoming a strangely common sight as of late, much to Harry’s amusement.

However, the culprit that had attacked Burke and Botley was still at large. The Slytherins were visibly unhappy, many eyeing the other tables, especially Gryffindor’s, with suspicion and anger, regardless of the detentions given. An uneasiness lingered in the air as if the calm was temporary. Students always huddled in groups while going up and down the staircases and hallways, afraid to be taken unawares on their lonesome, seeking strength in numbers while staring at other crowds with deep suspicion.

Harry hated it.

The shadow hanging over their heads was his fault because he couldn’t do anything right. Harry tried to put himself in Riddle’s shoes to think up a solution—yet the only thing that could make matters worse was to attack some Gryffindor next, pouring oil into the other side of that inter-house feud.

As the days progressed, he considered changing the password to the Chamber back. But that meant Harry had to slay the basilisk and spring a trap inside the Chamber. Facing the millennium-old beast was a daunting prospect, especially now that he knew what it entailed.

A part of Harry was tempted to venture down immediately, but a small voice in his head told him that his sheer dumb luck would eventually run out. He didn’t expect much when he turned to Sirius for help with enchanted items, but his godfather was full of surprises and as helpful as usual.

A vague “I want to explore a magical beast’s lair” was enough to secure his assistance.

“A dragonhide robe, insides lined with Egyptian cotton, weaved with all sorts of protective enchantments,” Sirius clicked his tongue as he slammed the big package wrapped in velvet. “Back in my day, we ventured into the Forbidden Forest in plain school robes.”

“There were four of you,” Harry pointed out, not correcting his godfather’s misunderstanding. Ordering cumbersome stuff was a walk in the park with the help of a teacher who asked no questions.

Sirius’s face darkened for a moment, doubtlessly remembering Pettigrew, and then a sigh rolled off his tongue.

“There were,” he agreed. “But you can get your scaly princess for assistance. She was formidable in size two months ago, even more so if she has grown more.”

“She’s still growing, you know. I can’t even pick her up anymore.” Both of them shared a grimace at the mere thought of having to carry Nyx again. He really had to start looking at those Maziology suitcases Juno had mentioned.

Thankfully, his scaly familiar took his warning seriously and avoided the acromantula lairs. As big as she was, they could swarm her with sheer numbers alone.

“I’m surprised it took you so long to venture into the forest. James and I entered the Forbidden Forest before our first Christmas. You should use his cloak to get a lay of the land once or twice—most beasts don’t notice you at all if you cover your scent and muffle the sounds.”

“Of course. Thanks,” Harry mumbled, the guilt inside threatening to overwhelm him.

He always felt dirty and scummy, even when he lied, doubly so when he lied to Sirius. His godfather trusted him without asking questions, and Harry took advantage of that while… twisting the truth. A little lie here, a misunderstanding there, and it made him feel as if he was the worst human being alive. There was something deeply wrong about deceiving someone who trusted you so wholeheartedly. Harry hadn’t felt so guilty even when he almost killed Malfoy that one time.

The next time, he would owl-order all of his stuff instead of taking advantage of his godfather.

“Anything for my godson,” Sirius smiled, making him feel infinitely worse. “Don’t be so morose. It’s normal for boys to have a love for adventure. So long as you give me a head’s up, I’ll always let you wander off.”

Harry almost broke and confessed everything to his godfather; his previous life, the Horcruxes, Voldemort, everything going to shit, many dying, his own death, feeling helpless and angry and annoyed. Almost.

God, he hated lying, but the thought of putting Sirius in danger–because it was dangerous–held back his tongue.

The demise of Tom Marvolo Riddle was a burden he had chosen to bear alone.

“Also,” his godfather stopped Harry as he was about to leave. “Get ready. A thunderstorm is coming on Friday, so make sure you carry your potion with you. Have you-“

“Yes, I’ve kept doing the chants each dawn and dusk,” Harry interrupted. “There’s even a second heartbeat… I think. It might just be imagining things, though.”

“We triple-checked the potion and the process, so you ought to be fine,” Sirius’s lips twitched. “Anyway, it’s about time you head off. A model student like you wouldn’t want to be late for Herbology and disappoint poor old Pomona, would you?”

“Right, I can’t wait to replant the Mandrakes,” Harry quipped as he left, grabbing the hefty robes.

The package was bulky but not too heavy, and he hoped the three hundred galleons spent on the stuff wasn’t wasted–especially considering he would outgrow it all in a year. Becoming an animagus was supposed to be something momentous, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel any joy. So many things were happening right now, and the danger of the diary and the basilisk were just too big to ignore.

Diana spotted him as he rushed into the Ravenclaw common room, sitting beside Padma.

“Let’s go to Herbology together,” she said, her inked quill scribbling atop a roll of parchment that looked like this week’s Defence homework. “Also, can you help us with this? He wants nine inches on the usage of different shield charms, but we ran out of known spells.”

“Sure, we can go over it after classes,” Harry agreed.

“Harry,” Padma curiously inspected him. “You look absolutely knackered. Have you slept at all lately?”

“No, not much, Padma,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s just some bad dreams.”

Dreaming of Voldemort had become draining. He no longer looked forward to the night with anticipation but with a measure of dread instead. How could Harry ever rest or relax when he saw his worst enemy in his nightmares each night? It had gotten so bad that his own eyes looked reddish when he woke up, sending shivers down his spine.

Herbology dragged on, but Charms was interesting, where Flitwick was giddily explaining the theory behind weather charms while Harry tried to get the hang of an advanced version of the smokescreen spell. When classes ended, Harry did his animagus chant at dusk and joined Diana and Padma at the library to find Juno combing through a tome of counter-curses meant for O.W.L. students.

“And lastly, you have the ghost-shielding charm that was created with the sole purpose of warding nosy ghosts out of your rooms,” Harry brought over a dusty tome named “All Of Home Defence”.

“Thanks, Harry,” Padma beamed at him. “This should get us at nine inches before dinner time.”

“Practice?” Juno asked after returning her tome to Madam Pince.

“Let’s go.”

“You two are making the rest of Ravenclaw look like lazy bums,” Diana joked. “At this rate, you will run out of things to study.”

“You’re always welcome to join us for some spellwork and duelling,” Harry proposed lightly.

“Maybe once in a while,” Padma groaned. “But not all of us can—or even want to keep with your crazy pace. Just schoolwork and the usual study is exhausting enough on its own.”

Juno’s lips twitched. “You progress further by practising during holidays or before school. My grandaunt always said that life is about choices, and each decision comes at the expense of something else.”

“That’s a bleak way to look at things,” Diana pointed out.

“But is it wrong?”

Padma and Diana just shrugged uncomfortably, not offering a retort. Harry found himself agreeing with Juno. Those who put their time and will into excellence excelled. Ron was a prime example. Back in his previous life, his friend was sharp but never cared to apply himself beyond passing with grades that would get his mother off his back.

Now? Alone and shunned for nearly a year, Ron Weasley flourished in a way Harry had never thought imaginable, and he studied far harder than any amount of urging from Hermione could have ever produced.

‘There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it.’

Voldemort’s words rang true again once more, but Harry didn’t want to use his power to hurt and destroy without care as the dark lord had. Even power was a tool in the end, which was plain to see by how Dumbledore used it in contrast to Tom Riddle. But Harry wanted to be his own man, not the second coming of Dumbledore or Voldemort or even Merlin.

Practice with Juno went well, and after a few duels, practising the Patronus charm helped him unwind and squeeze out his magic to the limit for the day. After that breakdown, the blue-eyed witch had recollected herself, and there was some sort of serene… peace within her.

The previous desperation to win in something as inane as a duel was gone, and in Harry’s humble opinion, it made her more dangerous because she approached things without any particular goal but the pure enjoyment of magic and a love of excellence.

It allowed her to analyse her shortcomings and bad habits with a cool head, and Harry could see her learn from each failure with frightening speed. Hating mediocrity when you could do better was something he could respect.

Just as they were headed to the common room for a quick shower, Harry’s skin tingled, and he heard the voice that made a thousand ants crawl across his spine again.

“Rip… tear… kill.”

It shouldn’t have been possible–he had changed the entrance’s password. It shouldn’t have been possible… unless the password was cracked… or the possessed student found another entrance.

“Did you hear it?” Juno’s wand was out in her hand, and she warily looked around as if someone would jump them at any moment. “Perhaps this is who is attacking the Slytherins? Hey… your hand is trembling.”

“I’m fine,” he allowed, trying to suppress all the storm churning in his chest as he clenched his fingers around the yew wand, trying to empty his mind. Merlin and Morgana, he didn’t feel ready. He wasn’t ready. “I… I need a favour from you.”

“Another favour.” She hummed thoughtfully, even if her eyes never stopped roaming around, looking for enemies. “I suppose I can’t really decline after the assistance you’ve levied me as of late, but I might want some additional answers depending on the severity of your request.”

“Rip… tear… kill…”

“You venture into the headmaster’s office often,” Harry said, steeling himself. “If possible, I need some of his phoenix’s tears. Urgently.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Juno said, her lips curling with amusement. “Fawkes does like me, yet I wouldn’t be assured of any success, let alone under Dumbledore’s nose. Phoenixes don’t cry easily, and their tears are priceless.”

“It’s fine if you can’t.” In the end, perhaps he was over-preparing himself for nothing. Bringing three roosters inside the Chamber would surely be enough to deal with the basilisk, and those were miles easier to acquire than phoenix tears.

Juno seemed to take his off-handed remark as a challenge.

“We’ll see,” resolve dripped from his words. “But don’t you think we should tell the teachers about this voice?”

“Telling them that we hear murderous voices that nobody else does?”

That got a chuckle out of her. “Right. Forget it, then.”

Harry excused himself and skipped dinner. He covered himself with his cloak and rushed to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. It was empty, and he couldn’t spot any signs of tampering or damage.

Sighing, he closed himself into one of the stalls and took out the Marauder’s Map, trying to figure out the possessed’s location. But as it was dinner time, the whole castle was swarming with students going back and forth to the Great Hall, and his mind slowly wandered.

Riddle had broken through the new password—or had found a different way into the Chamber. He wasn’t sure which one it was, but it didn’t matter. Young or not, the dark lord had to be stopped. If the basilisk got out and killed someone… Hogwarts would close.

While a terrible outcome, Harry was sure he would finish his magical education one way or another. But what if the diary managed to manifest a body this time?

What if Tom Riddle returned to the living at the cost of an innocent soul with none the wiser?

Because Harry had failed.

The hours ticked by, but there was no whisper from the basilisk movement in the bathroom beside Myrtle’s occasional wail. Harry felt cold shivers run down his spine as the realisation he had dreaded to think of earlier sank in.

Riddle had found another entrance.

He needed to act fast.

30th of October, Friday

Today was the day. Unlike what Sirius had claimed earlier, the skies were clear all day, and it didn’t look like a thunderstorm would grace Hogwarts. Still, Harry carefully wrapped the Animagus Potion into a cloth to ward off any sunlight and shoved it into his robe.

Hedwig had finally brought him the enchanted goggles he had purchased from a shop in Germany–a simple layer of protection against the lethal stare, if not an outright trick to ignore it entirely if what he had in mind worked. Harry had decided to slay the basilisk today after curfew, whether phoenix tears came in or not.

But when it rained, it poured.

“Wasn’t easy, but my father got his hands on three drops. He personally delivered it here just now,” Draco pulled him aside and shoved a small vial made out of what looked like an actual diamond in Harry’s hands after breakfast. But even Malfoy looked behind his back every three seconds as if expecting someone to attack him. “It’s the real deal, but their potency diminishes by the hour. They will expire within twenty hours, however.”

Harry’s heart and mind weren’t in the classes, and he couldn’t remember anything that had happened during the day. Yet the second surprise came before dinner. Juno returned from her detention with Dumbledore with a triumphant smile for once, giving him another vial.

“I had to bribe him with a generous offering of premium Norwegian chocolate to get it,” Juno mused. “The phoenix is just like his master, with a weakness to muggle sweets.” Her eyes hardened. “I want answers, Harry. Maybe not immediately, but soon. I know you’re doing something, and I want in. Have I not proven trustworthy?”

“You have.” His mouth went dry. He didn’t want to drag his friends into trouble, but a part of him acknowledged that there was only so much a single wizard could do. But that was a problem for later. “I will tell you what I can. Soon.”

Her eyes were like two chips of ice as she inspected him. “Very well. I trust you to be honest.”

The words felt like a stab in the heart.

Trusting the daughter of Bellatrix and Tom Riddle would have been preposterous in another world. Perhaps Harry was wrong, and she was truly the daughter of Rodolphus Lestrange–not that that made it much better in hindsight. But her understanding, silent support, and willingness to help were disarming. Juno knew how to push his buttons and did it on purpose. It was another question of how much he wanted to reveal–or how much would satisfy her, but that was a question for later.

Harry forced some bangers and mash down his throat so his stomach wasn’t completely empty. He spent an hour clearing his mind of all doubt, guilt, or fear before rushing to Hagrid’s hut.

“Hey, Hagrid, can I buy three of your roosters?”

He had no desire to test whether the crow of conjured roosters would fail to kill the basilisk, so he had to get the real deal. Preparation is the key to success.

“Eh,” the half-giant tugged on his tangle of a beard. “What do you need ’em for?”

“Going to test some Transfiguration,” Harry admitted. “I’ll probably end up returning them, but I’d rather pay just in case.”

“Ah, I see yer diligently studyin’ still–animal transfiguration isn’t until yer fourth year. Minerva migh’ have mentioned ye were studying ahead. I’ll give ye two roosters ’cause I need the rest.” Hagrid waved away the galleon Harry had taken out of his robes. “‘S fine, I’ve no need for gold.”

“You can buy more food and potions to help magical beasts with it, though.” Harry knew he had Hagrid when his eyes lit up as if Christmas had come early. Still, he hesitated. “You did send me a gift for my birthday. Consider this as a belated gift for yours.”

After a good ten minutes of convincing, Hagrid finally took the galleon and provided him with cages. Smuggling two roosters around the castle wasn’t exactly easy.

Thankfully, the invisibility cloak made it far easier than it otherwise would have been, even if Harry had to be silent and put them to sleep. He would have raised many questions if anyone saw him in the hallways, but the invisibility cloak prevented any mishaps.

The next few hours were spent watching the Marauder’s Map and his own watch.

Nyx slithered in from one of the shadows, observing him for a few minutes. She had become bigger than Nagini now.

“What’s so enchanting in watching squiggles move on old, dried-up skin?”

“Just checking something,” Harry hissed back.

Eventually, the serpent lost interest and slithered under his bed to munch on the skinshed she had left yesterday. At first, he thought she never shed like other snakes would, but it turned out that Nyx secretly just gobbled it up like the glutton she was. Soon enough, even Nyx fell asleep, leaving him alone.

When curfew came, and the whole castle was asleep or safely within their dormitories, aside from the patrolling prefects, Harry started preparing. The dragonhide robes were dark red and looked more like dried blood than anything else. They were somewhat bulky and weighted on his shoulders, but not in a way that made movement cumbersome. He chucked all of his vials–including the essence of dittany and blood-replenishing potions– in the pocket along with the goggles, grabbed the rooster cages under his elbow, and carefully ventured towards the second floor under the cover of his cloak.

A part of him wanted to bring more potions, including Dexterity Solution, but they took significant time to brew and couldn’t be purchased on short order.

If things went as planned, he would just go in and make the roosters crow a few times, killing the basilisk with no risk to himself. But Harry had learned his lessons; things rarely went according to his poorly thought-of plans, so he had taken every precaution he could think of.

Myrtle was floating around the second floor’s bathroom, eerily singing to herself. It sounded more like harpy shrieking than anything else, though, making him cover his ears. Harry had to endure another half an hour of torture until the ghost got bored and dived into one of the walls, and he became painfully aware of the cage’s angular frame digging into his ribs.

He gazed at the serpent engraved into one of the sinks and tried to imagine it as a real snake.

This was it. Once again into the chasm, even if this time he had trained and prepared extensively.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good!”

The sinks silently receded, revealing an enormous pipe going down. A small voice in his head told him it was madness, that he had to go to Dumbledore or even the Ministry instead of risking his life.

However, Harry Potter knew the competency that could be expected from the Ministry, and he didn’t think anything short of the truth would fool the headmaster. Perhaps if the Ministry hadn’t shown itself grossly incompetent last year, perhaps if Dumbledore and the DMLE had done more, he would not distrust them so.

But they had failed when they did, so Harry took matters into his own hands. His invisibility cloak was shoved into an inner pocket, and he slid down the pipe, holding the roosters’ cage to his chest with his left hand and his wand out with the other, casting a silent wand-lighting charm.

He landed on the carpet of bones with a loud crunch and was greeted by the damp, monstrous walls again. Even the air felt stilted, raking at his throat. The vivid, poisonous green skin was curled around a throne of bones, thankfully still empty if significantly larger than Harry remembered. It had to be at least fifty feet in length, if not more.

His sweaty hands picked up the goggles from his pocket, and he secured them on his head, turning the world dark. Even his gleaming wand was completely blocked off by the thick black lens.

Tapping his wand on the goggles, he murmured, “Temperato Visium.”

The hallway returned, if just a mere outline in various shades of blue, merging into purple and black. The roosters in the cage stood out like a sore thumb, with their yellowish plumage flowing from orange into dark red at the core, as were his hand that held the cage. The set of goggles was meant to nullify a gorgon’s petrifying gaze while allowing you vision if quite reduced.

Harry didn’t know if it worked against a basilisk, but it was better than nothing if things went wrong. Petrified instead of dead. The visibility was bad, but Harry was used to it from when he still wore glasses. He slowly threaded into the twisting hallway around several bends, and even Occlumency and an empty mind couldn’t help his nerves that were stretched taut. He was soon faced with the two intertwined stone serpents with bright red dots for eyes. No, not bright red; they were supposed to be emeralds if his memory wasn’t faulty. Even through the lens, gemstones seemed almost alive, and they felt as if they were watching him, observing him.

“Open.”

The serpents parted, and the wall cracked open, revealing an enormous chamber with serpentine pillars disappearing upwards. The far end, where Salazar’s enormous head was supposed to be, couldn’t be seen. God, he had forgotten how big this place was. If anything, the founder sure had a penchant for grandness.

The only thing he could hear was his heart hammering in his ears and his laboured breath–despite barely exerting himself. The dark chamber ahead loomed ominously, and Harry subconsciously narrowed his eyes, ready to seal them shut should the basilisk emerge–goggles or not.

His palms were sweaty, and he felt the cold creep through his shoes. Why, why were all of his senses screaming to go away despite his preparations?

But fear was an old companion.

Squeezing his wand to steady his shaking hand, he stepped through the threshold and removed the cloth covering the rooster’s cage.

Three things happened at the same time.

A flash of red struck at him faster than he could react from the mouth of the nearest serpentine statue. The walls behind him closed with a bang, and an ominous rumble echoed from the far end of the darkness, followed by a blood-curdling hiss.

“Intruder!”

After a heartbeat, Harry realised that whatever had struck him didn’t do any damage–he felt just fine. Just as he was about to wake up the roosters, he froze. Both of them were globs of cold blue, lacking any warmth at all. Dead.

Harry knew he was screwed. But a part of him was prepared–to face the basilisk if nothing else. His attempt to transfigure some of the tiles on the floor into another rooster was met with another flash of red, killing the chicken as it took form.

“FUMOS!”

The space before him simmered, the smokescreen appearing as translucent waves and gusts. Harry channelled as much of his power as possible, his wand eagerly gobbling it all up and turning it into thick smoke–and hopefully impairing the basilisk’s vision.

“HALT,” the cry raked at his throat, not accustomed to shouting in Parseltongue.

Everything was silent for a split second, and just as Harry thought it had worked, he received a chilling response.

“Food speaks?! Rip… tear… KILL!”

Well, so much for diplomacy–though Harry had entered here intending to kill the beast. Seemingly endless and thick as an old oak trunk, a twisting form of malignant red emerged, prompting Harry to move.

Channelling his frustration, he struck a silent Bombarda at the serpent. The wet tiles exploded, sending shrapnel that harmlessly bounced off the basilisk.

Squinting his eyes and leaping out of the way of the lunging behemoth, Harry gathered all the magic he could muster and roared, “Obscuro!”

The blindfold charm made his insides twist in exertion as the spell twisted into an enormous blindfold, covering the basilisk’s eyes.

The beast rammed into the wall, making the world shake and shriek in a way that made his blood curdle. Harry had to run away to avoid the thrashing tail.

Thankfully, the band covering the eyes remained in place.

“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!” It was as if a canon had gone off right next to Harry; his ears started ringing, and he got dizzy as an angry jet of red light slammed into the basilisk with a piercing explosion.

It took a few seconds for the smoke to clear and his ears to stop ringing, but when Harry looked at the Basilisk, he cringed. The spell barely made a dent in the serpent’s scales. But he did succeed in making it furious now.

“KILL!”

Harry dashed away to avoid the sweep of the tail that smashed tiles in its wake while his mind churned, looking for a solution to his plight. If pure magic would not do, perhaps a physical attack would. Levitating some of the debris, he transfigured them into enormous steel needles and launched them at the serpent, only for them to bounce off harmlessly.

‘The scales are more robust than dragonhide’, Harry glumly concluded.

He had to aim for the weak spots if he wanted to do any damage, which meant the eyes or the soft, fleshy insides of its maw. The latter was an easy enough target by the sole virtue of being so big, but the basilisk only opened its monstrous mouth when it wanted to eat him alive. A dangerous thing, considering it was surprisingly nimble for its size.

The monster had stopped thrashing, shook itself as it reared its enormous head and loudly started to sniff the air.

“Terebro, Terebro, Terebro!” His desperate chants echoed in the chamber as if ten wizards were casting at once. Alas, he was here alone.

Harry dashed away as an angry barrage of piercing hexes peppered the basilisk. Powerful curses would see him tire in a minute, but hexes would be good enough for the same effect at a lower cost. Yet the serpent twisted, and they all missed or splashed harmlessly against its bony head.

It zoned in on his position and slithered forth, prompting Harry to keep running. Twisting around, he kept firing piercing hexes as fast as he could but failed to strike the eyes and only managed to start tearing through the blindfold.

Slowly but surely, the serpent caught up to him, and an enormous maw again opened up to devour him whole. Harry wheeled to the wall and hastily rolled out of the way of the rapidly approaching rows of razor-sharp fangs at the last second–and the cold tiles below felt surprisingly painless, probably because of his robes.

While he avoided the maw, the coming tail struck him straight in the ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs and flinging him into the wall.

He tasted blood as the world exploded into stars–mostly blue and red and green, as the serpent twisted its enormous frame and rushed to his location again.

A part of him froze for a heartbeat when the enormous maw slammed into the pillar next to him in an attempt to bite off a chunk. Then it clicked–it wasn’t just smell; the blindfolded serpent could hear his location from his footsteps. An angry shriek echoed as the sword-like fangs were stuck into the stone.

Ignoring the painful ache in his chest, Harry hastily cast charms to mask his scent, covered the sound of his shoes, and forced his battered body to move. The basilisk managed to yank its fangs away from the serpentine pillar by tearing a chunk of it away and freeing its head.

His wand was already moving, levitating the large debris in the air, trying to drop them onto the serpent’s head. But the basilisk managed to twist out of the way at the last moment.

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat as the monster sniffed the air again. Lunging, the serpent angrily slammed on the spot where he had fallen, making the world shake again.

Yet even if the basilisk was blind, deaf, and couldn’t smell him, it made the task of slaying it no easier. His throat had long gone dry, his body ached, and his lungs burned, but Harry was not one for giving up. Slowly walking away from the confused serpent, he pushed his mind to the limit.

A flock of reddish-yellow, twittering birds erupted from his wands along with a loud bang. He kept casting the Bird-Conjuring charm until the whole chamber shook with the deafening echo of thousands of birds singing and screeching in a high-pitched tone that made his bones vibrate.

The basilisk twisted his way, but the sound seemed to disorient him just as much. The sizeable flock of chirping birds all swarmed around the basilisk, confusing and irritating it even further and buying Harry enough time to clear his mind again.

“Conmutocus,” he whispered under his breath in a bid to save every ounce of magic he could as he forced his will upon the shattered tiles before him, turning them into needles. It wasn’t any grand, fancy magic, but it hadn’t failed him before. “Engorgio, Wingardium Leviosa, Flipendo!”

A veritable rain of steel battered at the basilisk that twisted to lunge at him as he deliberately roared–no, he hissed the final spell, the words coming out in that ominous sound instead of human speech. An unholy shriek that made all of the hairs on Harry’s body rise echoed as the beast fell with a thud that shook the floor again. His scalp tingled as the basilisk writhed, letting out terrible gurgling hisses. But with each second, it grew slower, and its shrill, keening cries lost strength until everything grew still.

Harry yanked off the goggles, and a cold wave struck his sweaty face. The Chamber of Secrets was a mess, and the dim ambient light seemingly coming from nowhere made it all the more sinister, with shadows dancing and turning. And barely fifteen yards from him lay the gargantuan serpent that had to be at least seventy feet. The rain of steel had bounced off the poisonous green scales, but three arrow-sized needles were sticking out of its eyes, and black blood tickled down the maw from the mutilated sockets.

The eerie cacophony of twittering birds continued to echo through the vast chamber as Harry fell to his knees and began laughing.

He almost choked as the stab of pain in his ribs reminded him that he was far from unscathed. But he was alive. He was alive, and he had killed a thousand-year-old basilisk to thwart Voldemort’s plans. He had done it alone, without any help, and there had been no luck involved!

His whole body felt like one giant bruise, his mind felt numb, and he could feel most of his magic was depleted, but a strange sense of fulfilment, of exhilaration, ran through his whole being, and Harry felt lighter than he had in years as if he was running on clouds.

Yet his joy was soon dampened. Slaying the basilisk was only half the work, and now he had to catch whoever Riddle possessed–or at least the diary. Preferably find the other entrance too.

His knees were shaking as he stood up, as if he had sprinted for hours, and Harry slowly approached the corpse to inspect his kill. Up close, the basilisk was monstrous–far larger than he remembered. Its belly was a green so dark it looked black, and the scales almost looked like a coat of beautiful teardrops, each a different shade of verdant green.

The bony head had protrusions on the sides and was crowned by a pair of bony horns the size of a potion’s knife– it reminded him of a dragon. A part of his mind idly noted that the lack of plume on its head meant it was female.

Even in death, it looked terrifying and sinister, but in a majestic way, though ruined by the pink tongue dangling from its open maw. The basilisk was as old as the school itself, if not even older. It was all worth it, though. The risk of students dying in droves was gone, and Harry had an easy way to destroy Horcruxes.

Just as he crouched to sever one of the fangs, the carcass moved.

Harry’s world exploded in pain as he found himself squeezed between the enormous jaws. Fangs pierced through the dragonhide robe within a heartbeat. The world spun as he was helplessly yanked around in the air. ‘The serpent had been playing dead’, he realised morbidly as the searing pain turned into numbness slowly creeping forth from his left shoulder where two fangs had skewered him from each side.

But he wasn’t torn in two like that stone pillar from earlier–the basilisk was weakened. It was dying, and this was its final revenge.

Just as the sound of his bones creaked ominously and the pressure on his body increased, Harry managed to shove his wand hand into the maw with a titanic effort.

“IGNIS SECTUM!”

The blinding crimson light erupted, making the basilisk’s head glow like a sinister lantern, and the gargantuan serpent instantly went limp as warm blood splashed Harry’s hand.

Harry did not feel it when he hit the ground; so great was the pain as the venom coursed through his veins, so close to his heart, that a numb part of him told him there was no saving him. His face was numb, and his vision blurred, though he could see broken tiles and statues on the ground. A weak, wheezing gasp tore from his lips. Even without the venom, he did not know if getting skewered through his lungs and back could be healed with the meagre potions he had.

It was a pathetic death, and it made Harry angry.

One of the fangs had broken in the fall, and Harry barely managed to gather enough magic for another “Ignis Sectum”, severing the fang that had pierced him from the base.

An ugly sword-sized yellow fang pierced through his left shoulder and through his lung, barely missing his heart by an inch. Numbness and searing agony battered inside his body. He barely managed to yank off the fang stuck in his torso and collapsed on the damp floor with a pained hiss, struggling immensely to breathe through his raptured lungs. The bloody gurgle in his throat turned into a wracking coughing that nearly made him feel as if his insides would burst.

Despite the numbing agony that had taken hold of him, Harry could feel his body growing colder and the world turning darker as the twittering of the conjured birds turned distant. He couldn’t even move–or feel his left hand. With so much pain and blurriness, the world was one giant, unrecognisable blob, and everything grew more distant. Harry could not even turn his head to check his wounds or even move his right arm any further from his pockets. Even fury could only get him so far.

Harry was dying–he wasn’t even sure Phoenix Tears could fix such a hole in his chest.

Forcing his good hand into his pocket, he grabbed one of the vials and bit the cork off before spitting it and pouring the contents into his mouth hurriedly. The numbness disappeared, giving way to fiery pain so agonising that Harry writhed on the ground.

And he knew he had grabbed the wrong potion when he heard a second heartbeat.

Animagus Potions weren’t meant for healing–and there wasn’t even a thunderstorm outside. His insides turned into a battlefield as the fiery pain clashed with the numbness, and the former quickly began losing. Not even giving a damn anymore, he reached his quivering limb into his pocket again, groping for the small crystal vial and dunking it in his mouth, its cover flying off on its own.

Small mercies for Draco’s father charming the vial.

The numbness receded–somewhat, and the world grew slightly clearer, but Harry knew it wasn’t enough–and the fiery twist creeping in his chest only grew stronger. His hand stiffly groped for another vial, anything that could help! Finally, he grabbed another potion and bit off the cork to dump the reddish liquid down his throat.

His head felt clearer for a moment, and he realised it was the blood-replenishing potion. It would not last long, not when he was bleeding out, and the potion would cannibalise his body to produce more blood. The wet wheezes raking out of his throat painted a dire picture.

Groping for that second small vial, and after a painful grimace, as he bit clear through the glass and tore open his gums, he unsealed its contents over the gaping wound.

It wasn’t enough, even if the wave of pain now threatened to overwhelm him. Harry was a goner. He had nothing to lose anymore… so he did the only thing left on his mind.

His trembling fingers opened, and the wand eagerly lept into his weakening grasp as he forced the venom-splattered tip over his heart.

“…A-Amato A-Animo An-ni-” his throat constricted for a scream of primal pain as the world exploded in agony and everything went dark.

When Harry awoke, he found himself staring at a familiar room. It was a room he would never forget and one that he could only remember with loathing–Dudley’s second bedroom, but with a large mirror in the middle of the wall. It was no ordinary mirror; Harry’s reflection was ghostly pale, sinister, twisted with eerie red eyes and a mocking smile on his lips.