The Fire You Touch

Chapter 32: The Chamber of Secrets

"Aeryn."

Her name, murmured in a sibilant voice, pulled Aeryn slowly to consciousness. She was lying facedown on a smooth stone floor, so cold that it leached the heat from her skin and left her numb. There was a dull, throbbing ache in her forehead, as if someone had whacked her with a hammer. She tried lifting her head, and winced as pain shot down her spine in response.

"Aeryn. Wake up."

Aeryn moaned and cracked open her eyes. Her vision was blurred as if she was looking through frosted glass, and she blinked hard to clear it. The dim light coalesced until Aeryn could see she was lying in a long, dimly lit chamber. With a great effort, she rolled over on her back and stared up into the giant face of a statue looming above her. It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth chamber floor, on either side of Aeryn. Within the chamber, towering stone pillars entwined with carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

"That's better," said an amused voice.

Aeryn shakily sat up, the motion causing her head to spin. Her robe was moist and clung to her body. She brushed a hand against the fabric, and it came away wet with slime. Shuddering, she looked over at the nearest pillar and started slightly. A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against it, watching her intently. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though she was looking at him through a misted window. Aeryn knew immediately who he was.

"Tom Riddle," she croaked.

The boy inclined his head slightly. "Correct."

Aeryn suppressed a shudder. With his black hair, the lankiness of his tall body, there was an eerie resemblance between the boy from fifty years ago and Harry Potter, save that Harry's eyes were not so calculating, so hard....

"Where am I?" she asked, the words catching in her throat.

Tom Riddle spread his arms wide, and a cold smile spread across his face. "The infamous Chamber of Secrets, where else?" he exclaimed.

Aeryn stared at him in horror. No...she had to have heard him incorrectly...but as she looked around the chamber, she saw again the multitude of snakes, their jeweled eyes gleaming in the dim light, and her pulse began to increase, very slowly. "How did I--" she swallowed, trying to keep her voice even, "--how did I get here--"

"You mean you don't remember?" The boy against the pillar clucked his tongue and shook his head. "I'm surprised, my dear. You're normally so astute about things like this." He laughed, a high-pitched, unnatural sound that nearly froze the blood in her veins. "You got down here yourself--with a little help from me, of course."

Aeryn stared up at the statue towering above her. The wizard's eyes held the same warmth and gentleness of an Arctic wind, and Aeryn quickly drew her eyes away from it. Her entire body was trembling, and she felt the same nauseous, gut-turning feeling as if she had been swiftly immersed in a room filled with cigarette smoke. The snakes outlining the chamber were startlingly lifelike, and as her eyes grazed across them, she heard a sharp hissing. Startled, she whipped her head around to search for the noise. She saw a flash of poison-green, and a long, serpentine body--

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my dear," Tom said smoothly, and the next instant Aeryn felt her eyelids forced shut by an invisible hand. As she sat on the stone floor, motionless as a trapped animal, she heard a rustle like sandpaper rubbing against skin. She blindly turned her face towards the sound, stretching out a hand before her, and her fingers brushed against scales rigid as armored plate.

She jerked her hand away. "What is it?"

She heard Tom chuckle. "Hazard a guess."

The thing slithered closer to her, and Aeryn could almost hear the clink of its scales rubbing together. Her breath was thick in her throat. "The creature," she murmured brokenly.

A horrible hissing answered her, and Aeryn instinctively curled up in a small ball on the stone floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Tom Riddle laughed again, a discordant noise that shattered in the air like breaking glass. "Correct on the first try," he said. "Can you try and guess what it is?"

Her heartbeat thundered in her throat. Scales clinked closely to her, and the hem of her skirt moved slightly as the creature slithered by her.

"Come now, Aeryn, I'll even give you a clue. The crowing of the rooster is fatal to it."

Aeryn's fingers tightened around her legs. There was a hissing again, this time soft and intense, almost like air escaping from a bike tire.

"No guesses?" There was definite amusement in Tom's voice now. "Another clue, then. Born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad."

A phrase from her copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them flew into her head: The King of Serpents. Aeryn's breath caught in her throat.

"A basilisk," she whispered, and her voice was filled with horror.

"Very good," Riddle purred.

She could feel the creature close to her, and Aeryn pulled herself into a tighter ball, thankful now that her eyelids were screwed tightly shut. "But--basilisks kill people by looking at them, but no one's died--"

"No one's died, Aeryn, because they've all been lucky," Riddle interrupted. "The first one, that Creevey boy, he saw the basilisk through his camera. The film burned up inside of it, but the boy was merely Petrified. The Hufflepuff saw it through the Gryffindor ghost, and of course the ghost couldn't die again, but he did get the full blast of it..." Tom sighed. "And your friend Hermione, and that other girl, they used mirrors to look around the corner. Extremely clever, although it wouldn't save them from being Petrified."

The basilisk hissed close to her left ear, and Aeryn squeaked, scooching backwards on the stone. "And Mrs. Norris--"

"The bathroom near the first attack was flooded," Riddle said. "The cat must have seen the reflection of the basilisk in the water." Exasperation edged his voice. "Of course, the odds were that someone would get killed, but to my chagrin no one has--unlike fifty years ago."

"The girl," Aeryn said.

"Myrtle." He laughed suddenly, a triumphant, mocking laugh that chilled the blood in Aeryn's veins. "Stupid, sad little Myrtle. How was I to know that she was in that bathroom when I first called the basilisk? She was in one of the stalls, crying, and when she came out to tell me to leave, she saw the basilisk, gave a little shake, and poof! It was all over for her."

His words melted away into high-pitched giggling. The shuddering of Aeryn's muscles was uncontrollable now. If she could only see--but she couldn't, to do that would mean instant death--yet the sound of the basilisk scales on the stone was utterly--

A tiny waft of air gusted across her face, and then a cold, wet tongue flickered against her cheek. Aeryn cried out and clapped one hand against her face, striking out blindly with the other one. Her palm slapped against scales, and an angry hissing sound erupted before her.

Tom's horrible laughter echoed over the basilisk's complaining, and then a second hissing spat through the air. It took Aeryn a moment to realize that it was coming from Tom, and he sounded exactly like Harry had that evening of the Dueling Club, when the enchanted snake had been ready to attack Justin Finch-Fletchley. An answering hiss came from the basilisk, and then the scraping scales rattled away from Aeryn.

"My poor pet," Tom said in a good-humored way. "He's been cooped up for so long that he's quite famished. He tells me you would make an excellent appetizer."

Aeryn buried her face in her knees.

Tom hissed something again to the basilisk, and Aeryn heard it rustle away into the distance. "You can open your eyes now," he said after a moment.

Fear still coursed through her veins at the thought that she might open her eyes and stare into the poison-green gaze of the basilisk, but she drew a deep breath and lifted her head a fraction from her knees. The unseen hand clamping her eyelids shut had disappeared, and she cracked open one eye. There was nothing living in the chamber save for herself and the blurred Tom Riddle. Aeryn opened both eyes and looked over at the boy, who was idly rubbing a recently-shed scale between his fingertips.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

Tom put the scale in his pocket and mockingly shook a stern finger at her. "No, my dear--the question is why are you doing this?"

"What?" But as soon as the word slipped from her lips, Tom Riddle flung out a hand towards her. A searing agony erupted in Aeryn's brain, and she screamed, writhing on the floor as if she was being prodded with white-hot pokers. She thrashed against the stone, her muscles on fire--and just as swiftly, the pain withdrew, leaving her a gasping, quivering wreck.

"So easy to manipulate," Tom Riddle purred. His cold eyes regarded her calmly. "But you're stronger than I expected, did you know that? By this point in time with Lockhart, he was completely under my control."

Aeryn pushed herself off the floor and glared balefully at him. "You won't get away with this--"

"Won't I?" Tom sneered. "And who are you going to accuse, Aeryn, a fifty-year-old diary?" He laughed, and the sound splintered harshly in Aeryn's eardrums. "If you think that alibi would hold water, then Hufflepuff has indeed lost a great treasure in you."

"My friends will find me--" she panted, wincing slightly as a twinge echoed through her body "--they'll rescue me, and then you'll--"

"My dear, I am counting on precisely that," Tom interrupted smoothly, and his words sucked the air from her lungs. A smile twitched his lips as she stared at him, aghast. "But I forget--you have no idea what's going on up in the school, do you?" He stroked his chin with his long fingers. "It's quite intriguing indeed--for such a small person, you certainly can cause a huge ruckus."

Aeryn looked at him blankly.

"Would you care to see?" Without waiting for her answer, he closed his eyes and shoved his presence into Aeryn's mind so suddenly it hurt. With a clinical ease, he pulled their collective minds up through the thick stone ceiling--upwards from the depths of the deepest dungeons--onto the first floor--through the rich tapestries hanging the walls--

--into the teachers' staff room. Aeryn cast her mind around the chamber and noticed the familiar presences of Harry and Ron hiding in the staff room wardrobe. A small smile tugged her lips. The door swung open and a line of professors filtered into the room; some of them looked puzzled, others downright scared. Her gaze rested momentarily on Professor Snape, whose facial muscles were unusually tense, his lips pinched together tightly. A low murmuring rustled among the professors as they milled about the room, some of them sitting, others pacing nervously back and forth. The door swung open again and Professor McGonagall stepped through. The staff room immediately fell silent and all eyes turned to her.

The deputy headmistress walked with a heavy tread into the center of the room. "It has happened," she said in a low voice. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

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

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

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

*Do you remember writing that, Aeryn?* Tom exclaimed suddenly, his voice ringing hollowly in her mind. *You did, you realize, before coming down here. A rather poetic touch, don't you think?*

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

"Aeryn Blake," said Professor McGonagall.

A typhoon of shock slammed into Aeryn's mind from the assembled teachers, but most especially from the wardrobe and from the Potions master, who suddenly looked as if someone had fired a bullet into his heart. She watched helplessly as Harry's face blanched white and Ron slid silently down onto the floor of the wardrobe.

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

The staff room door suddenly banged open again, and all eyes turned to see Gilderoy Lockhart sweep into the room, his trademark grin plastered across his face and his forget-me-not blue eyes twinkling merrily.

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

Tom Riddle's mocking laugh echoed in Aeryn's ears as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sashayed into the room, and her stomach lurched in response. Lockhart didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape's face went white as his eyes fell on the other professor, and the expression that crossed his features was fierce enough to stop Aeryn's heart. He stepped forward slowly, his hands clenching to fists at his sides.

"Just the man," he snarled. "The very man."

Lockhart turned to look at Snape, and for the merest instant, his beaming grin faltered. A second later, it was back in place, and he held a comradely hand out to the Potions master. "Severus, old chap, what's going on?"

Snape ignored the outstretched hand. "One of the students has been snatched by the monster, Gilderoy." He leaned forward slightly, and his coal-black eyes flashed with a terrible fire. "Aeryn Blake."

The gazes of the two professors locked, and for a moment, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's face was darkened with an evil, knowing leer. But it was just as quickly erased by his signature grin a second later. "How horrible--"

"Taken," Snape exclaimed, and Aeryn saw the muscles of his shoulders bunch beneath his black robe, "into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

The blinding smile dropped from Lockhart's face immediately. "What?" he asked, and a confused look began to creep slowly over his features.

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

Lockhart stared at the squat little witch as if she had suddenly grown tentacles. "I--well, I--" he sputtered, trying to plaster another grin on his face but only succeeding in giving a half-hearted grimace.

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

Lockhart blanched. "D-did I? I don't recall--"

"I certainly remember you were saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape, and Aeryn could see him visibly struggle to keep his voice even. His eyes were murderous. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

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

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

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

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

And he left the room in a flurry of brightly colored robes.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got him out from under our feet." She turned her hard gaze to the rest of the teachers, who were regarding her silently, save for Snape, who was standing as if turned to stone, watching the door where Lockhart had disappeared instants earlier. "The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?"

The teachers murmured their assent, and then began to filter from the room, talking in subdued voices to one another. But Snape still did not move, even when the last of the professors had left the room, quietly shutting the heavy oaken door.

Professor McGonagall looked over at him. "Yes, Severus?" she asked.

With jerky movements, Snape turned around and stared at the deputy headmistress. His face was pale as he took a halting step towards her. "Minerva." The Potions master's voice was thick and strangely choked. "Miss Blake--is there nothing we can do?"

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched, and she quickly turned around, gazing intently at the books lining the bookshelf behind her. "The monster has taken her, Severus," she said in a cold, clipped voice, running her fingers blindly along the book spines. "She's most likely dead by now."

The muscles in Snape's jaw clenched, and there was no mistaking the desperation in the coal-black eyes he fixed on McGonagall. "But shouldn't we at least try and find the Chamber, at least--" His voice faltered slightly, and he cleared his throat roughly "--retrieve her body--"

McGonagall's fingers stilled. Very slowly, she turned to face the Potions master, and her eyes locked with his in a chilling glare. "Go back to your House, Severus," she hissed. "Speak to your Slytherins and tell them what has happened, and leave me to handle the Gryffindors." The deputy headmistress lifted her chin, and the bitterness soaking her next words was almost tangible. "We are fully capable of mourning our own."

Snape flinched as if he had been slapped. McGonagall remained staring at him until finally he turned away, his lips pressed together tightly as he strode from the staff room.

The heavy oaken door slammed shut behind him. Inside the wardrobe, Harry and Ron stared helplessly at each other as Professor McGonagall dropped into a chair and put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. There was a sudden crumple of black robes in the hallway as the Potions master collapsed against the wall, his face twisted with grief--

*That's enough for now* came the calm voice of Tom Riddle, and suddenly Aeryn's mind was jerked down through the walls, the floor, the multitude of dungeons, until she opened her eyes with a start in the chill, dank air of the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

The minutes snailed by into hours, and the hours stretched on endlessly. Aeryn slept sporadically on the stone floor, every once in a while fuzzily regaining consciousness to hear Tom and the basilisk hissing to each other in muted, conspiring tones. As the day wore on, she began to feel more and more weak, the muscles in her body trembling whenever she had to move.

She could not erase the picture of her friends' horrified faces from her mind. Although she had no idea how they would even begin to find her, she had to get in contact with them. Her eyes rolled over to Tom Riddle, leaning against the stone pillar and humming softly to himself. She concentrated, her body motionless on the cold, hard floor, and carefully threw her mind back up through the thick ceiling, through the dungeons, onto the first floor, up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower--

--"D'you know what?" said Ron. "I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there."

No, Aeryn tried to scream at them as they rose and left the Gryffindor common room. No, don't go to him, he's behind it, he's--but as she gathered her remaining strength to fling her words towards them, an overpowering presence burst into her mind, suffocating her thoughts. *No, no, my dear,* Tom Riddle purred. *You can watch all you want, but I won't allow you to meddle.*

Helplessly, Aeryn watched as the boys walked down the stairs to Lockhart's office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it--scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked, and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and one of Lockhart's eyes peered through it.

"Oh--Mr. Potter--Mr. Weasley--" he said, opening the door a bit wider. His normally smooth golden hair was rumpled, and there was a rather frenetic gleam in his periwinkle-blue eyes. "I'm rather busy at the moment--if you would be quick--"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," interrupted Harry. "We think it'll help you."

"Er--well--it's not terribly--" To Aeryn's surprise, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked extremely uncomfortable. "I mean--well--all right--"

He opened the door and Harry and Ron entered. Lockhart's office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight-blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Are you going somewhere?" said Harry.

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call--unavoidable--got to go--"

"What about Aeryn?" said Ron jerkily.

Lockhart's hand faltered only slightly as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "Well, as to that--most unfortunate--" he said, avoiding the boys' eyes. "No one regrets more than I--"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well--I must say--when I took the job--" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "Nothing in the job description--didn't expect--"

"You mean you're running away?" asked Harry disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books--"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor straightened slowly and fixed a glare on Harry that sent chills up and down Aeryn's spine. "My dear boy," Lockhart said slowly, a furious glint creeping into his periwinkle-blue eyes. A cold smile twitched his lips. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover." He laughed, and it sounded like glass breaking. "No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on--"

"So, you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" said Harry incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track those people down. Ask them how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms." His lips curled away in a toothy shark grin. "No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

As Ron and Harry gaped at Lockhart, dumbfounded, an image crept unbidden into Aeryn's mind. "I know the truth behind those books," the Potions master whispered into the struggling wizard's ear. "Two words, Lockhart. Memory. Charm."

*Devious chap, isn't he?* Riddle whispered. *Precisely why he and I got along so well...*

Lockhart banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them. He pulled out his wand from his sleeve and turned to face the boys. Any semblance of geniality had been wiped from his visage, leaving in its place a cold, vicious leer. "Awfully sorry, boys," he purred, leveling his wand at them, "but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book--"

Harry's hand skidded for his wand, but before either of them could do anything, a curse echoed through the air and Lockhart's office door flung open. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor whirled on his heel and jerked his wand up, but his black-robed intruder was quicker. A harsh cry of "Expelliarmus!" split the air, and Lockhart was blasted backward, slamming against his trunk with a sickening crunch.

Professor Snape crossed the room in two huge steps and grabbed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher by the throat. "What did you do to her?" he snarled, his face darkened by a horrible mixture of anguish and rage.

Lockhart gurgled. His hand snaked across the floor for his dropped wand, but Snape savagely trod on his wrist, and Lockhart yelped in pain.

"Tell me!" Snape roared, his normally clear voice thick and broken as he slammed Lockhart's shoulders against the trunk. "Tell me what you did to her, you bastard, or I swear to you that I will siphon your brains through your nose with a straw."

A harsh noise rasped from Lockhart's throat, and it took Aeryn a second before she realized he was chuckling. "Oh, Severus," he murmured, his periwinkle-blue eyes glinting. "You've really got it bad, old chap." He probably would have said more, had not Snape's hands tightened further around his neck, cutting off his words into a strangled squeak.

"You will tell me everything you know about the Chamber of Secrets," Snape growled into the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's ear. "And then you will take me there, and you had best pray I find Miss Blake alive, or else--"

But his words were suddenly stifled in his throat and he froze as the point of Harry's wand dug into his back.

Aeryn's attention immediately turned to her two friends. Confusion was written plainly across their faces, but both their wands had leapt into their hands, and their eyes were glittering with an emotion akin to hate as they stared at the two professors.

"Yes, Harry," Lockhart croaked eagerly. "Help me."

"Stay out of this, Potter, it has nothing to do with you!" the Potions master barked.

Harry's jade-green eyes narrowed. "If it has to do with Aeryn, it has to do with me and Ron," he said bravely.

"Then--you should be worrying about him--" Lockhart rolled his gaze up to Harry's face, his blue eyes as pleading as a puppy's whine. "Do you know what he did to her, what he's been doing to her, for all these months? Did you never wonder why she was always sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower?" A hard, pouting look crossed his face. "Why she received such good grades in Potions?"

"We already know all about that," Ron snapped, pointing his wand directly at Lockhart's face as Harry glared hatefully at Snape. "Aeryn told us. A long time ago, in fact."

The Potions master had the good grace to look miserable. "I can explain," he began slowly.

"Don't believe a word he says--" Lockhart interrupted, waving one hand feebly as the other tried to loosen Snape's grasp around his throat.

"And they should believe you, Gilderoy?" Snape hissed, fixing his attention back on the other professor. "You, who just tried to cast a--"

"I don't see a reason why we should believe anything either of you say," Harry said smoothly, keeping his wand fixed on Snape. Both of the professors fell silent, watching Harry and Ron warily. Harry pointed a finger at the Potions master.

"Let him get up, Snape," he said.

After a moment, Snape awkwardly got to his feet, pulling Lockhart up with him by the collar of his robe.

"Harry," Lockhart gasped, scrabbling at Snape's hand. "Listen to me, Harry, I can--"

"Since you're so willing to talk, Gilderoy, why don't you tell them what you did to me?" Snape snarled, his coal-black gaze blistering into Lockhart's face. "How extremely unlike you--I thought you would have taken any chance available to brag about your conquests."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ron, keeping his wand trained on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"He's insane," Lockhart said quickly, but squealed in pain as Snape maliciously dug the tip of his wand into his side.

"Stop it, both of you!" Harry snapped.

"Potter, Weasley, listen to me," said the Potions master, his coal-black eyes flickering to the students' faces. His low voice was filled with intensity. "Ever since school began, Lockhart has been feeding me a very powerful, very illegal substance called the Berserker's Mead. It rendered me incapable of controlling my actions, and was the sole reason for my--behavior--towards Miss Blake." Lockhart opened his mouth to protest, but pinched his lips back tightly together as Ron jabbed his wand towards him. "However," Snape continued in an even voice, "I have ceased to take it since Christmas."

"That's a lie," Lockhart growled, struggling in Snape's grasp like a caged animal. "He's been taking it every day--I can swear to it--"

"He believes I have been taking it, but that is only because Miss Blake and I have worked to make it appear so," Snape snarled, glaring balefully at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His lips twitched briefly, and Aeryn saw him suck in a deep breath. "She has been helping me end my addiction, after which we planned to expose this snake in the grass for what he truly is."

The words froze Lockhart in mid-struggle. He stared openly at the Potions master, the preliminary disbelief etching his face slowly corroding away to reveal a smoldering, furious rage. Harry turned to Ron, his thin face slightly stunned yet highly skeptical.

"I don't see why we should believe him," Ron muttered in response, then jerked his head towards Lockhart. "But, then again, this git just tried to blast us with a Memory Charm. 'Least Snape's not done anything to us." He snorted. "Yet."

"Boys--" Lockhart again attempted to speak, but was stopped as Snape shook him roughly.

"Potter, Weasley," the Potions master said. "It matters not whether you choose to believe me." He gazed at them somberly, and Aeryn heard in his voice the echoes of desperation. "The important thing now is to find Miss Blake, if she's still alive. At this point in time, nothing else matters."

For a long, hard moment, Harry and Ron regarded Snape. Then, with a sigh, they lowered their wands. "True enough," Harry muttered, pushing a hand through his unruly black hair. Ron glowered at Snape, but said nothing.

Lockhart gave a feeble smile of relief. "Well, then, I suppose you can just let me go, and I'll--"

"And you are going to take us right to her," Ron said shortly, pointing his wand directly into Lockhart's handsome face. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor blanched.

"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Aeryn's mind was sucked back down through the floor like water siphoning down a drain; down, down, down, until she was back in the chill air of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Just as I planned," Tom mused, and Aeryn opened her eyes in time to see a satisfied smile curve his lips.

Hatred lanced through Aeryn's heart. "Professor Snape--" she gasped, clawing at the feet of statue until she attained a sitting position. "Harry and Ron might not know what to do with you, but Professor Snape will--"

"Professor Snape," sneered Riddle mockingly, and his chilling chuckle rang through the Chamber. "Believe me, Aeryn, I know how to handle your cherished Potions master."

Aeryn's muscles gave way, and she slumped against the statue with a small cry. Quivers ran up and down her entire body, and she was weak, so very weak, it was almost as if the air itself was sucking the energy from her body. She wanted to sob, but she would not--could not--give the misty-edged boy that satisfaction. With a remnant of her usual fortitude, Aeryn weakly tossed her head and leveled her gaze at him.

"Tom," she said with as much strength as she could muster.

"Yes, Aeryn?"

She drew a deep breath. "Let me see what's going on."

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you wish to do that?" he asked. "You're becoming very weak, my dear. Too much exertion might incapacitate you totally, and you surely don't wish for that."

"Humor me," Aeryn exclaimed, unable to keep the waspish edge from creeping into her voice.

"And why should I do that?" he asked lazily, watching her with disinterested eyes.

Because, you bastard, you've treated the basilisk with more gentleness than me since I've been down here, she wanted to snap, but instead she fixed him with a cold glare and replied just as lazily, "I find your conversation to be less than stimulating."

Tom Riddle threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Since you insist, my dear," he said in an amused way, waving his hand, and suddenly--

--Aeryn looked around quickly. She was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where Harry, Ron, Snape, and Lockhart were standing in front of a sink--one, Aeryn remembered indistinctly, that had never worked since she had been there. Snape had Lockhart by the collar and was spinning the other professor's wand between the fingers of his free hand. Suddenly, there was a hissing noise like sizzling grease, and at once the tap of the sink glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Ron gasped, Harry's eyes opened wide, and Lockhart gulped.

*Do you remember that, Aeryn?* Tom asked her. *That's how you arrived down here*

"I'm going down there," Harry said determinedly before Aeryn could think up a suitable response.

"Me too," said Ron automatically, his face pale beneath his freckles.

"As will I," said Snape in a low voice.

There was a pause as everyone stared at the large pipe.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. "I'll just--"

Three wands jerked up to point at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor before he could say another word. "You can go first," Snape snarled, his coal-black eyes flashing.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening. "Boys," he said, his voice feeble. "Sev, what good will it do?"

"Don't call me Sev," snapped Snape, and jabbed the Lockhart in the back with his wand. The other man slid his legs into the pipe, his chin trembling only slightly.

"I really don't think--" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight. The next instant, Harry slithered down the pipe after him, followed by Ron who covered his eyes before sliding out of sight. Snape paused just long enough to jam Lockhart's wand into his belt, then dove down the pipe after them. After a long, slimy ride, they whizzed out of the pipe and landed with a wet thud on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in.

*Your friends are smarter than I expected;* Riddle murmured to her as Harry lit his wand and the four started off into the tunnel. *It took you nearly twice as long to get down here, and that was with me helping you along the way. I hope nothing happens to them...these tunnels are quite old, and haven't been used in a while...you never know what surprises are lurking around the turns.*

*They're ready for anything that might come their way,* Aeryn snapped back bravely, anger rushing through her veins at the mock-sympathy tainting Riddle's words. *They're smart, and brave, and strong too--you have no idea how strong.*

*I think,* Riddle whispered like an afterthought, *you may be placing too much faith in them.*

A loud gasp dragged Aeryn's consciousness back to her friends. They were staring at a gigantic snakeskin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor.

The basilisk, Aeryn thought in horror.

"Blimey," said Ron weakly.

There was a sudden movement as Gilderoy Lockhart's knees gave way.

"Get up," said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet--then he dived at Ron knocking him to the ground. Harry and Snape jumped forward, but too late--Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron's wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said triumphantly. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save Aeryn, and that you two boys tragically lost your minds at the sight of your friend's mangled body!"

He turned to Snape, and his blue eyes glittered like knife blades. "And as for you, old chap," he hissed victoriously, "it's a shame the monster got to you before I could kill it, though I tried, oh, how I tried!" His smile broadened as the Potions master's hands stilled at his sides. "Poetic picture, though, don't you think--you, clasping Aeryn to your chest with your dying breath, the two illicit lovers rotting in each others' arms for all eternity! I'll make it the focus of my next book!" He giggled, and Ron's wand shook in response. "Say goodbye to your memories, gentlemen!"

As Lockhart raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head, Snape moved with the speed of lightning. The Potions master's wand leapt into his hand and he pointed it at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Obliviate!" Lockhart shrieked, but his voice was instantly drowned out by Snape's roar of "Decimatium!"

The spells collided with the force of a small bomb. Aeryn watched with horror as Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snakeskin, out of the way of great chunks of rock that were thundering down. Snape threw himself over Ron and pulled the boy to the floor, covering their heads with his arms as the tunnel ceiling showered around them. A moment later, a huge cloud of dust hung in the air, and a solid wall of broken rock separated Harry from the rest of the group.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, coughing and trying to wave away the dust. "Are you okay? Ron!"

Ron leapt up and ran over to the wall. "I'm here!" he cried. "I'm okay." After a second, he added, "So's Professor Snape."

On the other side of the wall, Snape crawled to his feet, his face murderous as he stared at Lockhart, who was wiping the rock dust away from his face with trembling hands. Save for his tousled curls, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher looked fine, albeit slightly dazed. Snape drew his wand from his belt and leveled it slowly at Lockhart as Ron and Harry regarded the stone wall, looking for an opening.

"What now?" Ron said, sounding desperate. "We can't get through--it'll take ages...."

Everyone looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge, deep cracks fissured the rock, making it look as if at any second it would give way.

"I can probably break apart the rocks by magic," called Snape after a second. "But only as a last resort--the whole tunnel might cave in on us."

Harry's brow furrowed, obviously thinking furiously about the situation. On the other side of the wall, Ron turned quickly and kicked Lockhart in the shins. Lockhart yelped, and a grim smile flickered across Snape's lips but was just as quickly erased. Aeryn held her breath. There was no way for them to move the rock quickly...not unless they used magic, but even then, it would take a good hour, and in that case--

"Wait there," Harry called suddenly to Ron and Snape. "You two wait with Lockhart. I'll go on...if I'm not back in an hour...."

Ron's face turned white, and there was a very pregnant pause.

"Snape and I'll--try and shift some of this rock," said Ron. He cleared his throat and seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. "So you can--get back through. And, Harry--"

"See you in a bit," said Harry in a voice that was probably supposed to be filled with confidence but fell just slightly short. He turned around and started down the tunnel.

"Potter!" yelled Snape.

Harry halted and looked back over his shoulder. On the other side of the wall, Aeryn watched as a myriad of warring emotions crossed the Potions master's lean face. "Be careful," he exclaimed finally, his voice unusually rough.

Harry nodded silently, and set off alone past the giant snakeskin. Aeryn watched him in disbelief as he began to make his way along the winding, serpentine tunnels. Back on the other side of the stone wall, she heard Ron grunt as he strained to shift some of the rocks. Snape motioned with his wand for Lockhart to help, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor clumsily got to his feet, his face a frozen mask of anger as--

*Brave, brave little Harry* Riddle hissed, yanking their linked minds back into the Chamber.

Aeryn lay motionless against the feet of the statue. The breath snagged in her chest, and it hurt to move. Weariness smothered her. She lifted her head slightly, groaning as pain erupted down the entire length of her body.

"He'll be here any minute now," Tom Riddle said musingly, his eyes fixing upon the far end of the Chamber. Aeryn followed his gaze and saw, at the very end of the hall, a smooth stone wall on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds. "He's coming...I can almost feel his presence..."

Unable to even make a sound, Aeryn slumped back against the feet of the stone wizard. Her eyelids were heavy, as if they were made out of lead. The dim light blurred in her eyes as dark spots danced before her vision, and she blinked, trying unsuccessfully to clear it.

There was a low creaking sound, and both Aeryn and Tom looked over at the end of the hall. The entwined serpents parted as the wall cracked open, and the halves slid smoothly out of sight.

Aeryn's heart dropped as a small figure, trembling from head to foot, walked inside.

"Ah," Riddle said softly as Harry approached them. "So, again, it begins."

~*~*~*~*~*~