Shattered Shackles
29th May 1993
Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts.
Harry stood in the dark peering down a very long dimly lit corridor with an only slightly less dim greenish glow visible in the distance, the muffled sounds of Ron’s voice and a scraping noise he could only assume was him trying to clear a path emanating from the rockfall behind him.
He considered stopping and helping clear a path, he knew that Basilisk was down here and who knows what other monsters were lurking in the dark. It would definitely have been easier to tackle with help and the sudden loneliness of his situation had him more nervous than he cared for. His thoughts turned to Ginny, she had been down here too long already and if she still could be saved then the longer she was down here the more danger she was in.
Steeling himself he took a tentative step forward, the subsequent steps coming slightly easier to the preceding steps as fear was replaced with anticipation and resignation. He pressed on slowly, surrounded by the gloom the only noise the slow drips of water and his own ragged breaths his heart beating faster the as he approached end of the corridor until he stood where it opened up into the larger vaulted chamber where despite his best efforts his steps began to echo of the walls. He peered about the chamber ready to close his eyes at the slightest bit of movement the Basilisk could be hidden in any shadowy corner.
A few details about the vast chamber immediately stood out, a number of support pillars supporting the ceiling leaving a large open space at its centre; he could just make out frescos on the walls and ceiling. A number of large statues surrounded the room at the edges set into recesses, the most striking of which was a somewhat lifelike painted statue on the back wall just over one hundred metres in front of him as high as the chamber itself. Harry had to crane his neck up to look into the giant bearded face above him, an imposing figure with dark flowing hair and sharp angular features, eyes a piercing and calculating green.
At the statue's feet was a slightly raised dais where he could see the silhouette of a small black robed figure with flaming red hair laying face down, an arm sprawled hanging down the steps. “Ginny!” Harry shouted, sprinting to her and bounding up the three steps in one leap before dropping to his knees beside her.
“Don’t be dead! Please don’t be dead!” as he flung his wand to the floor to grab her shoulders and turn it over the momentum causing it to roll a short distance away. Her face was white as marble and just as cold her eyes closed and her head dropped limply so she wasn’t petrified.
He panicked, sure she was dead... ‘Ginny, please wake up,’ he muttered repeatedly as he shook her desperately. Ginny’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side and he turned his head pressing his ear to her chest then hovering it in front of mouth picking out the faint sound of shallow but steady breaths.
“She won’t wake up.” A soft voice spoke coming from his right.
Harry spun recognising the voice, “Tom?”
He nodded, “I’ve been expecting you Mr Potter” he said in a sardonic tone as he stared into Harry's eyes.
"What d’you mean, she won’t wake?" he replied desperately with a sudden feeling of unease washing over him under Tom's glare. ‘She’s not dead, I can hear her breathing."
"She’s still alive. But only just."
Harry stared at him, Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen, slightly translucent with a silver sheen. Then he noticed it, a small silver cord stretching out from Riddle's back until it hit a black leatherbound book, a diary, the same diary Harry had found in Myrtle's bathroom months before. He had no idea what was happening and began to hoist Ginny up instinctively knowing to keep her where she lay was to keep her in danger. She was half off the floor when he remembered he was a wizard and there were easier ways to carry someone he began casting glances about for his wand.
He looked up. Riddle was still watching him and pulled his hand from behind his back twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers with a smile at the edges of his mouth.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter,’ said Riddle. ‘For the chance to see you. To speak to you.”
Harry was baffled, unable to piece together the clues but he understood that whatever had been happening this year Tom was at the centre of it. Between the menacing voice, the cold disregard for Ginny's predicament and lack of urgency to leave the chamber it was clear he was the villain of the piece. Harry knew enough to play for time and hope his luck held out, at the very least that way he might understand exactly what was actually happening before he died.
Tom began to monologue about his own genius, Harry only half paying attention and giving witty jibes and pointed questions where he felt necessary. Tom explained how Ginny has poured her heart out to him, how he’d managed to blame Hagrid for the previous opening of the chamber, how he’d led Ginny to open the Chamber against her will, how she’d fought against his will for a time and how he was surprised the person who piqued his interest had picked up the diary after Ginny threw it away before he began asking rhetorical questions about how a talentless baby defeated a dark lord.
“Why do you care?” said Harry slowly. “Voldemort was after your time.” Fists clenched by his side.
“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 began slowly rearranged themselves: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side?”
“You think I would keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”
Harry gave a huff “You’re not, I’ve seen you. You're a wreck! Defeated by a muggleborn and a baby, terrified of Dumbledore.”
“Dumbledore! Dumbledore has been driven from this castle by the memory of me!”
“He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, hoping to scare Riddle into a temporary retreat, wishing rather than believing it to be true.
Harry heard a musical chime in the far distance barely audible over Tom talking “I will show you fear!” Riddle turned towards the statue and began to hiss in parseltongue ‘Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.’
The jaw of the statue began to slowly drop a loud scraping noise coming from behind that Harry knew could only be the Basilisk.
Harry wanted to set Ginny down but he knew he had to get away quickly so he mostly dropped her before he turned and began to run away from the statue into the depths of the chamber towards what looked like a glowing ray of sunlight as the melody of an uplifting melody made up of lilting trills and whistles steadily increased in volume.
Then the source became clear, a bird the size of a swan, a golden tint to an otherwise deep red hurtled into the chamber directly over Harry's head dropping a tattered rag into his path that hit Harry square in the chest before falling into his hand as the bird kept going in the direction of the statue. Harry continued on a few strides towards the chamber exit before he ducked behind one of the support pillars near its centre.
Riddle began to shout “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 didn’t answer, not quite comprehending what Riddle was talking about and before he had time to properly inspect it, a tear opened up in the fabric.
“Ahhh Mr Potter, well met, slightly less auspicious circumstances than the last time we had a chat.” The hat said softly.
It was difficult to shout using parseltongue but Harry felt that the “Kill him.” order Riddle was telling the snake was as close as you could come.
The Basilisk was moving towards Harry, he could hear its heavy body slithering ponderously across the dusty floor.
Harry began to respond looking down at the hat in his hands “Eh… Hi.” only to be cut off as a high pitch stuttered hiss followed wild thrashing then a low pained bass note could be heard coming from a few dozen metres beyond the pillar he'd hidden behind.
“No!” Harry heard Riddle surprising Harry that he had managed to scream in parseltongue and wondering what it was about he dared not to peek around his column. “Leave the bird! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! You can still smell him! Kill him!”
“Ah, I believe that noise means my friend has succeeded in phase one of our cunning plan. If you could put me on Mr Potter. Quickly now. ”
Harry shoved the hat on his head and began running for the next column with his eyes closed as the basilisk's tail hit the one he’d been hidden behind only seconds before causing it to fail and sending debris through the chamber.
‘No need for that you can't see where you're going and it’ll get us both killed’ the hat gave off in his head.
Harry couldn’t help a thought of indignation about the massive basilisk chasing him crossing his mind.
‘Indeed I did see that, however as I said phase one was a success and that means the big flobberworm should be blind now’
Harry peered around the column's edge. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin, glittering, venomous ... It lunged blindly. Harry dodged and it hit the column. It lunged again.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valour Harry dusted himself off and started running again only to have a purple spell catch him completely off guard and only miss him by inches before splashing off the back wall as he made it to the next column.
As he dashed between the supports Harry couldn’t help curse himself that he’d let go of his wand.
‘Interesting that you should say that with only this foe and a shadow of another to defeat.’ The hat quipped.
‘Only he says… as if beating it and whatever Voldemort is at the minute to death with my fists is a walk in the park’
The blinded serpent swayed, confused. The Phoenix circled its head, piping his eerie song, diving in before jabbing here and there at the Basilisk’s scaly nose as the blood continued pouring from its ruined eyes leaving a slick gripless floor behind it.
‘I don’t think you’ll escape by punching your way out of this.’
‘Are you just here to witness my death or can you help?’
‘Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.’
The floor vibrated as the basilisk crashed into another column, the impact, coupled with his already shaky footing on the uneven rubble strewn ground and his nerves causing him to stumble backwards out of the way of a falling bit of masonry.
‘Please…Help me!’ Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight under the Hat.
There was no answering voice. Instead, the Hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly. Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry’s head, almost knocking him out. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed the top of the Hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it. A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the Hat, its handle glittering in the low light as it caught the ruby the size of a chicken egg inlaid in the pommel.
“You could have done that from the start you know!” Harry muttered but unable to hide his glee and jammed the hat on again.
‘Probably’
The basilisk swung at Harry as he ducked under its body and darted behind an alcove with a statue along one of the side walls before realising he was trapped the basilisk between him and the open room. The basilisk hit the statue toppling it over its forked tongue lashed Harry’s side. He raised the sword in both his hands as the basilisk lunged forward again.
This time its aim was true. Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent’s mouth. But as warm blood drenched Harry’s arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm and it splintered as the Basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor. Harry slid down the wall crumpling on his knees. He gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it was too late as the chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull colour. A patch of scarlet swam past and Harry heard a soft clatter of claws beside him.
“Thanks, you were brilliant,” Harry said to the bird. “You were brilliant…” as he trailed off, unable to muster the energy to continue he felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent’s fang had pierced him. He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of him.
“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” said Riddle’s voice above him. “Dead. Even Dumbledore’s pet chicken knows it. Do you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying.”
Harry blinked. The phoenix's head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feather.
“I’m going to sit here and enjoy watching you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
Harry felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning.
“So ends the famous Harry Potter,” said Riddle’s distant voice. “Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You’ll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry. She gave her life to buy you twelve years of borrowed time, but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must.”
If this is dying, thought Harry, it’s not so bad. Even the pain was leaving him. But he wasn’t entirely sure he was dying. Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus which was surprising considering his glasses had fallen off in the scuffle. Harry gave his head a little shake and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry’s arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound – except that there was no wound, there was only a silver patch of skin with its ragged edges a contrast to his normal skin surrounding it.
“Get away!” said Riddle’s voice suddenly. “Get away from him! I said, get away, you ruddy bird!”
Harry raised his head. Riddle was pointing Harry’s wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet. “Phoenix tears…” said Riddle quietly, Harry didn’t think he was supposed to hear him but his voice echoed low in the chamber while staring at Harry’s arm. “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…” He raised the wand.
In a rush of wings the sound of flapping cut across the one sided conversation as the phoenix soared back overhead then Harry felt a slap as something fell into his lap. A large black leather bound diary. For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it.
Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the Basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book. 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 as he became increasingly translucent, Harry still on his knees watching in grim fascination until he had gone.
Harry’s wand fell to the floor with a clatter 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. Shaking all over, Harry's head was spinning as though he’d just travelled miles by Floo powder.
Then as he was still on his knees the silence was broken. “A Gryffindor indeed. I’ll admit to being wrong about you. The legacy of the founders weighs heavily on those who dare to tread in their wake.”
Harry panting as he collected his bearings sighed before saying between heavy breaths “What's that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t think this will be the last adventure you get embroiled in Mr Potter”. That hat sounded almost giddy.
“Just what I need, more danger”
“Yes you have quite the penchants for getting into scrapes. To think that just before you were sorted I was complaining to the elves that dust my shelf how boring most of the last decade has been”. The hat continued rattling on, attempting to breathe some levity into the situation.
Harry picked himself off the floor hoping to extricate himself from the conversation, fairly certain it was starting to give him a headache and looked up at Ginny's body slowly stirring on the dais turning his back to the hat and taking two tentative steps towards it before tumbling forwards as everything went black he fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood. Moments after he lost conciousness a wail screamed into the darkness and his scar began to leak a dark pungent tar like ooze.