Pride

Ron, Harry, and every other Ravenclaw watched in horror as Lockhart walked onto the stage wearing robes in luscious plum. He was smiling so widely they could count all of his perfectly white teeth. Snape followed after in his simple, dreary black.

“We should just leave,” Harry said, as Lockhart talked about getting permission from Dumbledore to start a dueling club and having ample experience himself, which one could read about in detail in his published works. 

“How is it not Flitwick?” Anthony asked. 

“Professor Lockhart—”

“Don’t even start, Mandy.”

Their moods lifted when Snape blasted Lockhart across the stage with a disarming charm. 

Once Lockhart recovered his wand, they were paired off. Neville and a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hermione with Millicent Bulstrode, Dean and Seamus, Ron and Harry. Then Snape interfered. Harry was instead paired up with Malfoy, and Ron with Seamus. 

Ron kept an eye on Harry, who regarded Malfoy with a blank expression. Snape whispered something in Malfoy’s ear, looking at Harry and smirking. 

Lockhart told them all to only disarm, but of course no one listened. Malfoy cast before Lockhart finished counting down. 

“Serpensortia!”

A long, grey snake shot out of Malfoy’s wand, hissing angrily. Ron thoughtlessly blocked whatever spell Seamus had sent at him, watching Harry as he froze in indecision. Ron didn’t know what kind of snake it was, but when it hissed he could see its jet black mouth, and the wicked curve of its fangs.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted. No one paid attention.

Harry frowned, clearly unhappy with the choice he was making, and said, “Reducto.”

The ground beneath the snake exploded. Malfoy staggered back. People stopped what they were doing, drawn by the loud noise. The explosion had launched the snake through the air. It slammed onto the floor, right between Neville and Justin, facing the latter. It hissed again, then started slithering towards Justin.

“Stop! Stop!”

Neville took a step forward, raising his wand. He hesitated, but then his posture relaxed and he opened his mouth. Instead of words an odd hissing sound came out. The snake froze, looking around curiously. It turned back to Justin, flicking its tongue.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” Justin shouted, before running out of the Great Hall. Everyone was staring at Neville now. Ron met Harry’s eyes, neither sure what was happening. Snape vanished the snake in a puff of black smoke. 

Dean grabbed Neville’s arm, pulling him out of the hall, Hermione and Seamus close behind. 

The Great Hall broke out into whispers as soon as they left, a few people looking fearfully at where the four Gryffindors had disappeared, as if Neville would come back to hiss at them some more. 

“Longbottom’s a parselmouth?” Harry said. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Ron said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

They turned to Terry, who was looking a bit ill. “He must be related to Slytherin!”

“Longbottom,” Harry repeated, “related to Slytherin? I don’t believe it. Why would he do that in front of everyone? That’s just going to make people think he’s the heir or whatever.”

“Maybe he is,” Sue said, crossing her arms.

“I doubt it. Everyone knows parselmouths are dark wizards,” Padma said defensively. “He’s the Boy-Who-Lived. He can't be dark!”

“Maybe he used dark magic to kill You-Know-Who,” Terry muttered in a forboding tone.

“Who was a parselmouth,” Padma said, “and actually a dark wizard."

“He was a baby!” Harry burst out. “This is ridiculous. Come on, Ron. This whole thing was a waste of time.”

Ron followed Harry out of the Great Hall, heading off the crowd which had begun to move as Lockhart dismissed them. 

“This is wrong,” Harry said. “It doesn’t make any sense at all. How can—”

“Not here,” Ron whispered.

They hurried up to the common room, finding it empty and taking seats close to the fire. Harry looked shaken, wrapping his arms around myself. 

“I didn’t want to hurt the snake,” he admitted, staring into the flames. “It was just a regular snake. I thought I would scare it away, but I…”

“It’s not your fault,” Ron said. “Snape was the one who gave Malfoy that spell, that’s what he must have whispered to him.”

“How is it possible that Longbottom’s a parselmouth too?” Harry asked. “Are we related?”

Ron shrugged. “Most of us are distantly related. Malfoy’s something like a sixth cousin I think. I’m not sure how the Potters are related to the Longbottoms, if at all.”

“If we’re both related to Slytherin, that means we have to have some relative in common, right? But then wouldn’t other people speak it?”

“I don’t think everyone in a family is born with a magical gift,” Ron said. "Look at squibs."

“Maybe it’s just totally random,” Harry said, frowning. “Strange, for there to be two of us.”

“Maybe,” Ron said, though he was doubtful. It was too big a coincidence. “What did Longbottom say to it?”

Harry glanced at the door. No one else had come up yet. “That’s the strangest part. He told it to attack.”

A blizzard the next day forced everyone indoors. Ron and Harry were in the library, but weren’t having any luck finding what they wanted. 

“There’s no muggle books at all,” Harry said, frustrated. “It could be a muggle sn—creature. Lots of them cause paralysis.”

After seeing the snake Malfoy had conjured, which Harry had recognized as a black mamba, they had got the idea that the attacks might not be magical at all. Someone could be using something more mundane, something the professors might not be familiar with at all. The whole Chamber thing could be a ruse. 

They weren’t very convinced by their own theory. It didn’t explain the voice Harry had been hearing. But Neville being exposed as a parselmouth had agitated both of them.

Snow was piling against the windows, and Madam Pince prowled the stacks, pouncing on anyone who brought a book too close to a flame.

A group of second-year Hufflepuffs were talking about Justin, who was currently hiding in their dormitory, and about Neville being a parselmouth. Apparently Justin had bragged to Neville about being down for Eton. He doubted Neville knew what Eton was. Nor did Ron, for that matter. One of the boys, Ernie Macmillan, went on to explain that Neville had a run-in with Filch earlier in the year, and that the petrified first-year Colin had been following Neville around with a camera. He had reasons to attack them.

Neville walked in just as Ernie was convincing everyone that the Boy-Who-Lived was a powerful dark wizard with unknown hidden powers, a match for Voldemort himself as proven by Neville surviving the impossible. 

Ron and Harry listened as Neville tried to explain himself. Harry’s eyebrows shot up when Neville claimed to have told the snake to back down. By the time Ernie began reciting his genealogy it was clear the conversation was going nowhere, and Neville stormed out of the library. 

A few minutes later, they heard shouting.

“Attack! Attack!” Peeves bellowed. “Another attack! No mortal or ghost is safe! Run for your lives! Attack!”

Harry leapt up, abandoning their books and running out of the library. Ron chased after him. 

Students had come out of their classrooms, blocking the halls, but there was an explosion and McGonagall ordered everyone back to where they had been. Ernie showed up seconds later, panting. 

Ron couldn’t believe his eyes. Somehow Sir Nicholas had been petrified. Instead of his usual ghostly white, he was a smoky black, laid out and hovering inches above the floor with his head knocked askance. Justin Finch-Fletchley was on the floor next to him, also petrified. 

“Caught in the act!” Ernie shrieked. 

Neville looked just as shocked as the rest of them, blinking in confusion. 

Justin was taken to the hospital wing by Flitwick and the astronomy professor Sinistra. After some debate, McGonagall conjured a fan and had Ernie waft Sir Nicholas away. Ron and Harry were sent to their next class, while Neville was escorted to the headmaster’s office. 

“This changes things,” Ron said as they walked back to the library. “I don’t think anything muggle could do that to a ghost.”

“No,” Harry said with a troubled expression. “How could it? You can’t even touch ghosts.”

With the end of term the castle emptied. Almost everyone signed up to go home over the winter holiday. Ron’s mum and dad were visiting Bill in Egypt, leaving all the kids at Hogwarts. They agreed that it would be their gift to their parents, a holiday for just the two of them. It had been well over a year since they had seen Bill. Ron wanted to see him too, but money, as always, was an issue. 

They weren't the only ones. Neville had stayed at school, along with his friends Hermione and Dean. Malfoy had also decided to stay, with Crabbe and Goyle sticking with him. Penelope had chosen to stay as well, citing prefect duties. It sounded like an excuse to Ron.

On Christmas morning, after opening their presents, they broke into the Gryffindor common room again to see Ron's brothers and sister.

They were in the middle of playing a rousing game of Exploding Snap with Ginny when Neville, Hermione, and Dean came down from the boys' dormitory. They paused when they saw that two Ravenclaws had invaded their common room.

"This isn't your common room," Hermione said with a stern expression.

"That isn't your dormitory," Ron said, looking pointedly at the stairs she had just descended.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said, smiling at her.

Hermione wheeled around to call for Percy, but Fred and George were stuffing him into his new jumper.

"Our common room is also in a tower," Harry said lightly. "It's an easy mistake to make."

"The Fat Lady let us in," Ron said. "Blame her."

Dean smiled, and sat down with them to play a round. Neville joined too, and eventually Hermione opened up a book to read, amazingly focused despite the explosions both from the card game and the twins setting off fireworks.

Christmas dinner was as spectacular as the previous year. Hagrid was drunk and singing carols at top volume, enchanted snow fell from the ceiling, Malfoy's snide remarks about their homemade jumpers were drowned out by more explosions as they pulled crackers.

Neville, Hermione, and Dean left early, all three wearing furtive looks.

"Want to follow them?" Ron asked.

"I'm visiting mum, remember?" Harry said. Flitwick was walking towards them, wearing a festive traveling cloak. "You can borrow you-know-what though."

Ron nodded, getting up when Harry did and walking with him and Flitwick to the entrance hall. After making their farewells, Ron ran up to Ravenclaw Tower to retrieve the invisibility cloak, still hidden in an old Chocolate Frog box. He made it back to the entrance hall just in time to see Neville and Dean setting two chocolate cakes on a bannister, then hiding behind a suit of armor.

Ron narrowed his eyes as he watched Crabbe and Goyle leave the Great Hall, stuff the cakes in their mouths, keel over, and get dragged into a broom cupboard.

Neville and Dean sprinted upstairs, carrying stolen pairs of shoes with them. Ron followed after, careful not to make too much noise.

They went into the second floor girls' toilet. Inside, a stall belched clouds of black smoke. As he listened to their conversation, Ron clapped a hand over his mouth, smothering his laughter. They had somehow managed to brew polyjuice, and had drugged Crabbe and Goyle to steal their hair. So many things could have gone wrong. The sleeping draught could have been too powerful, the polyjuice could have been brewed incorrectly. It was astounding they'd pulled it off, and unsettling they'd drugged two of their classmates to steal their identities. Strangely, it made Ron feel guilty.

Ron watched the three Gryffindors chug down the vile brew. Their skin melted and bubbled, changing them into their chosen Slytherins. Ron shuddered, imagining what it must have felt like. 

Something had gone wrong with Hermione's, and while Ron had an urge to check to see if she was okay, he decided to follow Neville and Dean instead.

The two Gryffindors ran into a very suspicious Penelope coming out of the dungeons, who glared at the two boys when they asked where their common room was. Ron followed them down into the dungeons, where they subsequently ran into Percy. Ron frowned at that, wondering what business Penelope and Percy had in the dungeons, but set that thought aside when Malfoy showed up.

Percy left in a huff, and the odd group of second-years made their way to the Slytherin common room. Amazingly, the password was pureblood. Ron doubted even half the Slytherins were legitimate purebloods. The concept didn't make much sense to him as it was. Where did the first witches and wizards come from? Harry had sort of explained what muggles thought about evolution, how they hadn't started out as humans but evolved from something else. Had witches and wizards been sporadically created one day? Were they muggles who evolved to have magic?

A bit distracted, Ron followed them in, not very surprised to see it was murky and green inside, like standing in an underwater cavern.

Ron reckoned the Gryffindors thought the real heir of Slytherin would actually be in Slytherin. That perhaps it was Malfoy himself. Ron didn't think very much of him, but he doubted Malfoy was stupid enough to attack students then brag about it. Particularly after Malfoy said the last time the Chamber opened, fifty years prior, had resulted in a death, and that the culprit was likely in Azkaban.

He learned Malfoy Manor had been raided the previous week for dark artifacts, which explained why Malfoy was at school instead of home for Christmas. He felt a twinge of pity for Malfoy, which was eradicated when he called Hermione a mudblood and wished for her death.

When the polyjuice started to wear off, Neville and Dean fled the common room. Ron took a final look around then followed them out. Now that he knew the password, he could bring Harry to explore. It would cheer him up after visiting his mum.

Ron made his way back to Ravenclaw Tower, thinking over all he had learned, and what it could possibly mean.

Weeks passed and the fear of Slytherin's monster dulled. During one of Harry's hospital wing visits they spotted Hermione having somehow partially turned herself into a black cat. They assumed it was the polyjuice gone wrong. The fur eventually fell out and she rejoined the rest of the student body.

Ron and Harry had given up on the mystery of the Chamber. The only serpent that seemed monstrous enough was a basilisk, but there was very little information on them aside from their deadly gaze, vulnerability to roosters and, amazingly, weasels.

"You're a basilisk's greatest weakness," Harry said to Ron, smiling mischievously.

"I'm not going to take a piss on it!"

"We could save it up in jars."

Ron covered his face, his ears turning red. "Why am I friends with you?"

Though they thought it was absurd for a thousand-year-old basilisk to be roaming the school unnoticed, the two boys took their suspicions to Flitwick. He assured them that generations of professors, headmasters, and headmistresses had tried to locate the Chamber of Secrets and had found no evidence of it. Likewise, basilisks were known to kill, not petrify, and consumed their victims. Not that anyone knew much about basilisks. The creatures were incredibly rare, nearly impossible to breed, and one hadn't been seen for centuries.

"No, boys," Flitwick said. "Whoever is behind the attacks is an intelligent being, not a feral basilisk. Imagine that. A basilisk in Hogwarts!"

At a loss, the boys fell back into the routine of studying. It was why they were in school, after all.

Ron and Harry stepped into a pink nightmare. The Great Hall had been rendered unrecognizable for Valentine's Day, and the man responsible ruled over them in resplendent pink robes. Flowers covered every surface in various shades of pink. Heart-shaped confetti fell from the ceiling and got everywhere, including in their food. Ron thoughtlessly brushed some out of Harry's messy curls then froze, blushing.

"Thanks," Harry said, picking confetti out of his porridge. 

A gang of dwarfs in diapers and golden wings marched in wielding golden harps. They were delivery cupids. Ron knew true fear.

The dwarves interrupted classes all day with their deliveries. The only bright spot was when one tackled Neville after dinner, sitting on him to deliver a musical message.

His hair is as golden as wheat

His eyes are cornflower blue

I wish he was mine, he's really divine

The hero who conquered You-Know-Who

Harry pointed out Ginny, whose face was bright red as she tried to hide in the crowd.

"Never do that to me," Harry said very seriously as they watched Neville finally fight off the inordinately pleased dwarf.

Ron blushed as vibrantly as Ginny.

During Easter break they had to choose their subjects for third year. Upper years gave them sage advice based on their experience, the professors stressed the importance of choosing wisely, and students were swamped by flocks of owls. Neville in particular got an incredible amount of post from both family and fans.

"There's no point in Divination or Muggle Studies for me," Harry said as they looked over the list. "Nor Care of Magical Creatures. We self-study anyway, no need to add homework on top of it."

"Let's do Arithmancy and Ancient Runes then," Ron said.

Harry looked up at him. "Not Divination?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't think I'm a Seer, I just have good intuition. That's why Arithmancy would be better."

"And we'd have all the same classes," Harry said, grinning.

"Yeah," Ron said, looking to the side. That was definitely not part of it.

It was a Saturday in early May, and Ron and Harry sat in the stands to watch the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match. Both teams only had losses so far, and were essentially playing over who came in third for the Quidditch Cup.

The players were on their brooms, and the balls had been released, when McGonagall ran onto the pitch.

"This match has been canceled," she announced.

Oliver Wood ran over to protest, but she ignored him.

“All students are to make their way back to the house common rooms, where their heads of houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”

McGonagall turned to Neville, beckoning him over, and the two headed for the castle. Dean and Seamus ran after them.

"Granger is missing," Ron said, looking at the stands. 

"You think something happened?" Harry asked. "It's been months. Why now?"

Later, in their common room, Flitwick read them a list of new rules in light of the double attack. Not only had Hermione been petrified, but Penelope as well. Quidditch had been postponed indefinitely, and a new curfew was in place.

Ron and Harry visited Penelope with the rest of the team. He was surprised to see Percy there, looking completely broken by Penelope’s state. When Percy noticed her other visitors, he quickly left without saying anything.

"Penny's a halfblood," Samantha said. "It doesn't make sense."

"Neither did Sir Nicholas," Harry said. "What's the point in attacking a ghost?"

After a while Ron and Harry left their teammates and wandered over to where Hermione had been placed. 

"She looks like she was expecting something," Harry said, picking up a small hand mirror that had been placed on her bedside table. He fitted the handle into her outstretched hand.

"Maybe she found something out," Ron said, looking at the mirror. "If it is a basilisk, it could be that looking through a mirror stops it from killing you."

Harry frowned, taking the mirror back. "We could go to Flitwick again."

Ron sighed. "He'd just say it was a coincidence she was attacked while holding a mirror."

Harry hesitated, then slipped the mirror into his pocket, just as Madam Pomfrey came out of her office to shoo them away.

The next morning they learned Hagrid had been arrested and Dumbledore had stepped down as headmaster.

Several weeks after Dumbledore had been sacked, tragedy struck again. Neville, Dean, and Seamus had been carried out of the Forbidden Forest by a group of centaurs, all three boys heavily injured. No one knew what had attacked them, but it was generally agreed upon that it was the monster, or the person behind the attacks on muggleborns, depending on which theory one subscribed to. Especially since Dean had the worst injuries, and he was a muggleborn. Something had bitten off one of his legs.

Ron and Harry took a look at the three Gryffindors when Harry went for his monthly treatment. All three appeared comatose, deeply asleep with ashen skin. 

“They don’t look like the others,” Harry whispered. “Something else must have attacked them.”

Most disturbing, though, was the empty place where Dean’s leg should have been. Ron wondered if anyone had told his family. If anyone had told Hermione's or Colin's. If their muggle parents would even be allowed to visit them.

People had seen McGonagall, the interim headmistress, go out to speak with the centaurs, but whatever had actually happened to the boys was kept quiet. 

Neville and Seamus showed up in the Great Hall for breakfast a few days later, which threw things into further confusion. As people scrutinized two worn Gryffindor boys and whispered speculations, McGonagall stood up to announce the mandrakes were finally mature, and that the petrified people would be brought back that evening. 

Halfway through the day, McGonagall made another announcement. Her anguished voice echoed through the halls.

“All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.”

Ron waited next to Harry in the common room, surrounded by their anxious housemates. An hour passed, and Flitwick arrived to tell them what had happened. 

Another message had been left, right under the first. A student had been taken into the Chamber. When asked who it was, Flitwick refused to say, telling them instead that the Hogwarts Express would be taking them all home the next day. 

Ron and Harry went up to their dormitory, both rattled by the turn of events. 

“You didn’t hear that voice?” Ron asked quietly. 

Harry shook his head, going through his trunk. He pulled something out and stuck it in his pocket. “The ghosts have been really quiet since Sir Nicholas was petrified. They’re obviously scared too.”

“What’s your point?” Ron asked, sitting down. 

“That girl, Myrtle, she haunts a toilet. I’ve been wondering since the Deathday party if she actually died in there. I didn’t want to ask her, because she’s crying all the time, and she might have…”

“Killed herself?” Ron said. 

Harry grimaced. “Yeah. Strange how just when the mandrakes are ready someone gets taken, isn’t it? Do you think a creature is smart enough to plan something like that?”

“Some could,” Ron said. “But, from what you’ve told me, snakes are really simpleminded.”

“So maybe there really is an heir,” Harry said. “Someone who’s controlling whatever it is.”

“You think it’s Longbottom?” Ron asked. 

“Can’t be, he’s the one who got taken,” Anthony said, walking in. “At least, that’s what everyone’s saying.”

“But he’s a pureblood,” Ron said, glancing at Harry, who also looked baffled by this information. 

“No wonder Flitwick didn’t want to tell us,” Harry said. “Imagine the Boy-Who-Lived being murdered at Hogwarts.”

“They should’ve shut the school down months ago,” Anthony said. He shook his head. “I only came to tell you they’ve sent food up.”

Ron and Harry watched him go back downstairs. 

“We should go to Flitwick again,” Harry said. “He’s at least got to consider the possibility of a basilisk.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “You heard the voice coming from the walls. It must be traveling them somehow. The first attack was near a bathroom...”

“Myrtle’s bathroom,” Harry said, sighing in frustration. “Let’s go, maybe he’s in the staff room.”

They snuck out of the tower. Everyone was too distracted by the news and the food to notice. On the second floor they saw Seamus running towards them. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked. 

Seamus was pasty, sweating, and scared. All of his friends had been taken, one by one. “I was going to get Lockhart. Hermione worked out what the monster is. Me and Nev were supposed to visit her and Dean together but he never showed up. Then I hear he’s the one who's been taken!”

Seamus dug a piece of paper out of his robes and showed it to them. “Dean found this in her hand.” 

Ron took the paper, flattening it out. It was a page from a bestiary, about basilisks. Someone had written pipes on it. 

“Lockhart’s going to try to get into the Chamber,” Seamus went on. “I was going to tell him what I know.”

Harry looked skeptical about this, but shrugged and followed Seamus. 

“If worse comes to worse we can just shove him in front of us,” Harry said to Ron.

They found Lockhart in his office, packing. Neither Ron nor Harry were surprised to hear he had done none of the things he had written about, but instead stole the stories from others and erased their memories.

When he attempted to do the same to them, Harry disarmed him. Ron snatched the wand out of the air and snapped it in half. 

Seamus stared at them in shock. 

“Get up,” Harry said to the struggling Lockhart. “You’re going to go save the Boy-Who-Live. Put that in one of your bloody books.”

They forced Lockhart at wandpoint to walk to the girls’ toilet. Ron could see the new writing on the wall, under the first message. 

HIS SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER

Lockhart was shoved in first. 

“Myrtle?” Harry called out. “We have a question for you.”

She drifted out of a stall, looking a little surprised to see them. “What is it?”

Harry looked at Ron imploringly.

“We wanted to know how you died,” Ron said. 

Myrtle was absolutely delighted by the question. She told them how she had been bullied by Olive Hornby and came back specifically to haunt her. The day she died she was crying in a stall, and she heard someone come in and speak in a funny language. 

“Did it sound like hissing?” Ron asked.

Myrtle agreed that it did, and continued her story. She could tell from the voice it was a boy, and left the stall to tell him off, but before she got a word out she saw a pair of large yellow eyes. Her whole body seized up, and she floated away. She pointed out the sink where it had happened.

Harry went over to investigate. After a moment there was a bright light, and Harry stepped back. The sink had vanished, revealing an open pipe large enough for an adult to crawl into. 

They pushed Lockhart in.

“I’ll go in next,” Seamus said with determination. “Nev’s my friend, after all. I just dragged you two into this.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other, but didn’t object. 

“Myrtle,” Harry said. “Could you tell Flitwick where we’ve gone?”

She nodded and flew away.

“Maybe we should get the teachers ourselves,” Ron said. 

“We might not have time,” Harry said, climbing into the pipe. “They’d just tell us to go back to our dormitory.”

“Flitwick might not,” Ron said, watching Harry disappear. He grimaced at the pipe, then climbed in after. It was dark, slimy, and smelled horrible, and it went on for an eternity. Ron was finally spat out onto a pile of bones, and Harry helped him stand. They were in a tunnel, or a particularly large pipe. Lockhart was silent for once, shivering and coated in grime.

They lit their wands and started down the tunnel. After some time they came across a giant snake skin. 

“So it is a basilisk,” Harry said, examining it. 

Lockhart fell to his knees and began to cry. Seamus walked over to deal with it. As he neared, Lockhart lunged at him, ripping Seamus’ wand from his hand. 

“Obliviate!”

The spell slammed into Seamus, and he went out like a light. Terrified, Ron watched as Lockhart turned to him, his mouth forming the same incantation. Ron did the first thing that came to mind. He defended himself. 

“Obliviate!”

“Protego!”

Lockhart’s memory charm ricocheted off of Ron’s shield, striking the man. Lockhart's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed in a heap. 

Harry ran over to check on Seamus. “He’s breathing.”

Ron kicked Lockhart, and saw he was breathing as well. “This one too, unfortunately.”

“You’re right, we should have got other teachers,” Harry said. “I just…the only way I could think of convincing them is if I told them I was a parselmouth.”

“I don’t think it’s worth our lives to keep a secret like that,” Ron said. 

“No, me neither.” Harry picked up Seamus’ wand and set it next to the boy. "I also…I don't trust Dumbledore. Flitwick would have told him."

Harry's face was turned away, but Ron could read the tension in his shoulders.

"You're right," Ron finally said. "But if we die fighting a basilisk, I'm going to be pretty bloody upset."

Harry turned around and grinned at him. "Don't worry, I've got a plan."

Ron and Harry left Lockhart and Seamus behind and continued down the tunnel. It twisted and turned, and went on for a long while. Eventually they reach a wall with a carving of two entwined serpents, their eyes set with large emeralds.

Harry hissed at it, and the wall split open. They stepped past this door and into a long, cavernous chamber. Pillars rose up and disappeared into a murky ceiling. The light was dim and green, and it was both cold and grossly humid.

They walked slowly past the pillars, checking the shadows for Neville or the basilisk. The only sounds were their breathing, their footsteps, and a persistent dripping.

Ron finally spotted something as they passed the last set of pillars. A huge statue of an ancient wizard stood nearly as high as the Chamber. At the statue's feet lay Neville.

Harry hurried forward to check on him while Ron kept a look out for the basilisk.

"He won't wake up."

Ron spun around, pointing his wand at a dark-haired teenager who was standing beside a pillar.

"Who are you?" Ron demanded.

Something was off about the older boy, like he couldn't decide what shape to take. He wavered around the edges.

"Tom Riddle," Harry said, voice thick with contempt. 

The teenager looked surprised. "So you've heard of me. Did Neville tell you?"

"What did you do to him?" Ron asked.

Riddle chuckled. "It was so boring, listening to the troubles of a twelve-year-old boy. First there was Dean. Poor Dean, never knew who his father was, the only person with magic in his family. So envious of his friends for being smarter, or more popular, or famous. Of the Boy-Who-Lived, who got to be on the quidditch team, who only played because his mother had been a chaser. So much to live up to, two famous aurors. And then poor Neville nearly died playing, and Dean thought he could use a friend to talk to. Someone kind and understanding. Someone…like me. Of course, it was my idea…"

"You're behind all the attacks," Harry said. "You used Dean first, then Neville. How? You're not a ghost, or a wraith possessing someone."

"A memory," Riddle said. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Harry looked around, then stood to walk over to something. He picked it up, and Ron saw he held a black journal.

"T.M. Riddle," Harry read. "What's the M for? Mental?"

Riddle smiled blandly. "Neville was just as trite as Dean, but it was very…informative seeing the inner thoughts of the Boy-Who-Lived. The pressure from his family to be an auror, the training, late nights studying. He's so terrified of disappointing everyone. Of not fulfilling his obligation, his duty. He put too much of himself in my diary, what little there was. There's barely anything left." 

Riddle sighed. "I didn't expect any visitors during this. Such an unremarkable boy to have destroyed Lord Voldemort..."

"Why do you care?" Ron asked. "Did you know him?"

Harry made a strangled sound, like he was going to be sick.

"Voldemort is my past, present, and future…"

They watched as Riddle traced his name in the air, rearranging TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE to read I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

"I always thought Voldemort was a stupid name," Harry said, rallying. "That explains why."

Riddle began to rant about his filthy muggle father, how he had the blood of Slytherin running through his veins. Ron's arm was getting tired. He didn't even know if any of the spells he knew would be effective against a memory.

A memory... 

"Obliviate!" he tried, shouting over Riddle calling himself the greatest sorcerer ever.

The spell passed right through the teenager, and Riddle gave him an amused look.

"No one cares about your shitty life," Harry said, kneeling next to Neville. It was frightening how pale and still he was. Riddle was somehow draining the life out of him using the diary.

A phoenix appeared in a burst of fire and song.

"Fawkes?" Harry asked incredulously.

"What?" Ron asked.

"That's Dumbledore's phoenix."

Fawkes swooped down, dropping the ragged bundle he carried and landing on Neville's chest.

"What are we supposed to do with the Sorting Hat?" Ron asked, looking at the phoenix. Fawkes said nothing.

Riddle must have been as confused as they were, but he hid it well. Harry was leaning towards Fawkes, whispering something. The phoenix sang mournfully, and Harry had a strained look.

"You haven't asked our names," Ron said to Riddle.

"Neville's spoken of you two, the Ravenclaw boys who do better than him at everything. Potter and Weasley. You don't even have any classes together, but he notices." Riddle chuckled. "He's even jealous of that mudblood girl for having better marks."

For some reason, Harry was shoving the Sorting Hat onto Neville's head.

"You think that will protect him?" Riddle asked snidely. "I know of his mother's sacrifice, how my older self burns at his touch. Neville told me himself! Little did he know I needn't touch him to kill him!"

Riddle began hissing. Harry looked up in alarm. "He's calling the basilisk!"

Riddle jerked his head, surprised. The statue's mouth was opening, wider and wider.

"Don't look!" Harry shouted.

Ron turned away and ran at Riddle, hoping to tackle him. Riddle laughed as Ron passed right through him.

"Get the Hat!"

Ron looked over at Harry, who was struggling to get something out of his robes. A long scraping sound came out of the statute, something large being dragged across stone.

Ron ran over to Harry and Neville. Fawkes cried out and launched himself into the air.

The Chamber shook as something massive hit the floor.

Ron stumbled and fell to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his wand.

"Got it!" Harry shouted. "Engorgio!"

Riddle hissed something else, and Ron knew the basilisk was coming right for them. 

Harry hissed something too and Riddle shrieked in response. The Chamber stopped shaking. 

“Ron, the Hat!”

Ron barely opened his eyes and groped for the Sorting Hat. He pulled it off of Neville’s head and a silver sword with a ruby-encrusted handle fell out. He chanced a look at Harry, and saw he was holding a giant mirror. 

Fawkes soared down and there was a sick popping sound. He flew away again, claws and beak bloody. 

“What are you doing?” Riddle shouted in English. He switched to frantic hissing. Harry lowered the mirror, his arms shaking. 

“The sword! Stab it through the eyes!”

Ron dropped his wand and lifted the sword. He could see the basilisk frozen, poised as if to strike. He didn’t question what had happened, but ran forward and, with all of his strength, stabbed the basilisk through one of its ruined eyes. The sword emerged through the top of its skull, and Ron pulled it back in a gout of blood and viscera. 

“No!” Riddle shouted again, running towards them. Ron had no idea what he planned to do, but understood once Riddle dove to pick up his fallen wand. The sword was ripped from Ron's hands, and he saw Harry stab it into the diary that lay forgotten on the floor. Ron watched numbly as the diary began to bleed a thick, black liquid, and Riddle screamed. He fell to the floor, screeching, flailing, dropping Ron’s wand. The diary kept spurting the vile liquid, too thick for ink, too thin for blood. 

And then it stopped. 

When Ron looked again, Riddle was gone. 

He sank to the floor, pulling Harry into his arms. Harry was shaking, the sword forgotten in his hand. 

“How did you know?” Ron asked. 

“The Sorting Hat and the sword are the only known relics of Godric Gryffindor,” Harry said dully. “Neville’s a Gryffindor. The sword will come to the aid of any Gryffindor in a time of great need.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“Hogwarts: A History.”

Ron began laughing. Harry let go of the sword and turned to hug him back. Fawkes landed next to them, crooning. 

“We killed a basilisk,” Harry said. “I didn’t know if a mirror would work, but nothing said basilisks were an exception to their own gaze. It only had to look at itself.”

“What if that didn’t work?” Ron asked.

“I would have tried to conjure a rooster, or you could have pissed on it.”

Ron held him tighter for a moment, smiling into his hair, then let go. 

There was a groan from behind them. Ron turned around and saw Neville sitting up. He looked at Ron and Harry, the stabbed diary, the sword, the hat, and the dead basilisk still frozen in its pose. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

Harry stood, pulling Ron up with him. “We can talk about it later. Finnigan and Lockhart are passed out near the entrance. We need to get out of here.”

Fawkes swooped down, crying out, then took off down the tunnel.

“We’re following him, I guess,” Harry said. He picked up the sword, hat, and diary, and started to walk. Ron got his wand, and helped Neville stand.

It took some time to get through the tunnel, following Fawkes. They eventually found Seamus and Lockhart. Seamus was clearly confused by waking up in a subterranean tunnel, but was happy to see Neville. The last thing he remembered was leaving Gryffindor Tower to find Lockhart. 

Lockhart, on the other hand, didn’t even remember his name. 

“Must have been the shield,” Ron said, helping the confused celebrity stand. "Amplified it somehow."

“Hello,” Lockhart said, smiling goofily. “Odd sort of place, this, isn’t it? Do you live here?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. Harry snorted. Neville kept shooting them looks, which they ignored. 

“Phoenixes can carry heavy burdens,” Harry said, frowning.

Fawkes swooped down and hovered in front of him, waving his golden tail feathers. 

“Did you want it back?” Harry asked, confusing everyone. Fawked chirruped, and shook his feathers again. “Oh, right.” Harry tucked the Sorting Hat into one of his robe pockets, stabbed the sword through his robes like an oversized needle, then grabbed onto Fawkes’ feather. He took Ron’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Everyone needs to hold on so he can carry us.”

Blushing, Ron grabbed onto Lockhart’s arm, Seamus took his other, and Neville held onto Seamus. Ron felt incredibly warm and light. Fawkes beat his wings and they were flying, through the rest of the tunnel, up and up through the pipe, finally arriving in the girls’ toilet, where Myrtle’s jaw dropped. 

“You’re alive,” she said, sounding disappointed. 

“Sorry,” Harry said insincerely, following Fawkes as he flew out of the room and into the corridor. Ron trailed after them, dragging a fascinated Lockhart along. Neville and Seamus brought up the rear, talking quietly to each other. 

They stopped in front of McGonagall’s office. Harry knocked, then pushed the door open. They entered the room, Fawkes flying by to land on Dumbledore’s shoulder. 

Ron paused, taking everything in. Dumbledore was there, as well as McGonagall, who looked like she was having a heart attack. An elderly woman wearing a hat with a stuffed vulture had been sitting by the fire. She stood up and turned around, her face tense and pale. Augusta Longbottom’s only visible reaction to seeing her grandson alive was taking a breath. 

"You saved my grandson," she said, looking regally down at Ron and Harry. "How?"

Harry walked up to McGonagall's desk. He laid the Sorting Hat on it, then the stabbed diary, and finally the sword. They were all exhausted and filthy. Lockhart was inching towards a moving portrait, making noises of wonder.

Harry dropped into a chair. Ron sat down next to him. He looked at Harry, who shrugged.

"It was Hermione who worked it out," Seamus said. "The monster was a basilisk, using the pipes to get around. I was going to get Lockhart to help…I don't remember anything after that."

"Lockhart used a memory charm on him," Ron said. "Then he tried to use one on me. It backfired."

McGonagall leveled a look at him. "Start from the beginning, Mr. Weasley."

Ron and Harry explained how they, like everyone else, tried to guess what the monster was. That it was probably some kind of serpent, telling Flitwick, Hermione found with a mirror, running into Seamus on their way to get Flitwick again, going to the location of the first attack with Lockhart. They left out the voice Harry has heard, his ability to speak parseltongue, him opening the entrance. 

"Instead of a sink," Harry said, "there was a huge pipe. Myrtle said when she was killed she had seen a pair of eyes from the same spot. So we went in."

They finished up with the events in the Chamber, and how the diary has possessed Neville.

Neville's gran had a harsh look on her face when she heard her grandson had been writing in an enchanted diary. Neville talked about losing time, about waking up with paint on his hands, or feathers in his hair. He didn't remember the dueling club, or that he had spoken parseltongue. He had been possessed. He didn't ask anyone for help. only writing about it in the diary. He had wanted to handle it himself. It looked like it pained him to admit these things, especially given the audience.

Eventually Neville, Seamus, and Lockhart were taken to the hospital wing by Mrs. Longbottom. McGonagall went to arrange a celebratory feast. Ron and Harry were left alone with Dumbledore.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," he said, looking between the two of them. "You've broken a number of school rules this evening."

"Which ones?" Harry asked. Ron kicked him.

Dumbledore sighed. "I have no intention to punish either of you. You've done a great service to the school today, both in saving Mr. Longbottom and in defeating the basilisk. You will both receive special awards for service to the school, and two hundred points each for Ravenclaw."

Harry nodded stiffly, and Ron stared mutely at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore watched them for a moment. "Is there anything else either of you would like to share with me?"

"No," Harry said flatly.

"No, sir."

The door slammed open. Lucius Malfoy strode in, fury written in every line of his body. A cowering, heavily injured house-elf trailed after him.

"Good evening, Lucius," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Harry stared at the elf. He was crawling on the floor now, trying to polish Malfoy's shoes.

"What's your name?" Harry asked quietly.

The two adults were talking about something. Ron and Harry ignored them. 

The elf looked up with bloodshot eyes. “Dobby, sir.”

“You’re the Malfoy’s house-elf?”

Dobby nodded, wringing his hands. 

Harry looked up at Dumbledore and Malfoy. They were saying something about the Muggle Protection Act Ron’s dad had been pushing through the Wizengamot. Harry slowly reached for the diary and took it from the desk. He worked one of his shoes off, and removed his sock, placing it within the pages of the diary. 

“...very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise …”

“Here, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said, shoving the diary in his hands. 

Malfoy looked at it with disgust. “Thank you for showing me, Mr. Potter. Here, Dobby.”

Malfoy tossed the diary to Dobby, who caught it out of the air. 

“Open it,” Ron hissed. 

Dobby did so, and stared at the sock. “Master gave—”

Ron slapped a hand over Dobby’s mouth. “Go to the Burrow,” he whispered. “Tell my mum we sent you.”

Dobby nodded, taking the sock and leaving the diary behind. Ron picked it up and passed it to Harry, who slid it back on the desk. Dumbledore winked at them, then went back to talking to Malfoy. 

“I hope no more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things find their way into innocent hands,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sure Arthur Weasley will guarantee they are traced to their sources, now that his son’s life has been endangered.”

Malfoy silently glared at Dumbledore for a moment, then spun around. “We’re going, Dobby! Dobby? Dobby! Where is that blasted elf…”

He threw the door open again and stormed out. 

“Now, you two should go get cleaned up,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. “We’ll be having a feast soon!”

The school year spluttered to an end. No one really knew what had happened to Neville, though a popular theory was he had defeated both the monster and heir of Slytherin himself. They knew Ron and Harry were somehow involved, given Ravenclaw's hourglass was spilling over with the points they had earned, and the new trophies in the trophy room.

Seamus had to go to St. Mungo's to try to recover his memories. Lockhart was likely now a permanent resident there. Dean had a prosthetic leg attached, as whatever had bitten it off was a dark creature and it couldn't be regrown. He was still getting used to it, and hobbled around after his friends.

Hermione had tried to approach Ron and Harry a few times, but there wasn't much to say. Saving Neville hadn't automatically made them all friends, and it sometimes seemed as if Neville resented them for it. Particularly how Harry had used him to summon the sword of Gryffindor, and another Ravenclaw had in turn used the sword to kill the basilisk. 

Exams were canceled, which made all the studying Ron and Harry had done feel even more useless. The rest of the school was thrilled by the reprieve, excluding the fifth- and seventh-years who still had to sit O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. 

Soon enough their trunks were packed, owls and ducks were flying home, Scabbers was found in the kitchen garden, and the students were on their way to the train.

Ron and Harry walked down the main steps and towards one of the carriages. They froze when they saw what was hitched to it.

Skeletal winged horses, with leathery, bat-like wings and reptilian faces pawed silently at the ground.

"Thestrals," someone said. Ron turned to see Sir Nicholas having joined them on the lawn, barely visible in the sunlight. "Only those who have witnessed death can see them."

The two boys nodded. Harry approached a thestral and held out a hand. The thestral sniffed at it, then pushed its nose into Harry's palm.

"Best not keep them waiting," Sir Nicholas said. "And thank you, boys. You've saved us yet again."

"Again?" Ron asked, but Sir Nicholas was already drifting away to make his goodbyes to some Gryffindors.

Harry gave the thestral a final pat. It watched him climb into the carriage with expressionless white eyes. Ron climbed in after him.

"I'm glad it's finally over," Harry said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Let's be less stupid next year."