The Fire You Touch

Chapter 33: The Heir of Slytherin

Harry’s footsteps echoed hollowly on the stone floor as he slowly walked further into the Chamber, looking around him warily with a drawn wand. Aeryn’s half-lidded gaze followed him sluggishly. She longed to rise to her feet, to cry out, to warn him about Riddle, but she couldn’t move. Fear drugged her veins as he drew level with the last pair of pillars. She saw the boy start as he saw the huge statue of the wizard, towering above them. His bottle-green eyes, wide in the dim light, traveled from the statue’s face, down the robes to the floor. His gaze fell upon Aeryn, and he blanched as he saw her crumpled form at the statue’s feet.

"Aeryn!" he muttered despairingly, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Aeryn—don’t be dead—please don’t be dead—" He flung his wand aside and slipped his arm under her shoulders. Her head lolled back as he lifted her slightly.

With a tremendous effort, Aeryn forced the smallest of groans through her lips.

"Aeryn!" Harry cried, his voice a mixture of joy and chagrin.

"Harry…" she whispered. Her eyelids struggled to open further, and she saw his white face overhead, furrowed with concern. She licked her lips and tried to speak, but the words…the effort was too great….

Harry grunted and tried to lift her to her feet, but she was too heavy, and they fell back against the floor. "Aeryn, c’mon—" he pleaded, "—Ron and Professor Snape are back in the tunnel—we’ve got to get you out of here—" He again tried to lift her, but failed. "Please, Aeryn, get up—"

"She can’t get up," said the soft voice of Tom Riddle.

Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. Tom was leaning against a pillar, his eyes roving intently over Harry’s face. Aeryn shuddered as she felt an intense, terrifying hunger radiating in waves from him, the same hunger she had felt the first night she had written in the diary, only it was more concentrated, more…real….

"Tom—Tom Riddle?" Harry gasped. Tom nodded, a small smile flickering on his lips. Harry looked back down at Aeryn, lying motionless in his arms. "What d’you mean, she can’t get up?" he said desperately. "Is she—she can’t be—"

"She’s too weak," said Riddle. "She’s only just clinging to life. But she’s a fighter."

Harry stared at the boy, his face a mask of confusion. Aeryn’s wavering gaze fell upon the misty form of Tom Riddle, and she realized with a start that the boy’s form, which at the beginning of the day had been almost translucent, was suddenly sharper, more defined. And then she felt the trembling of her muscles, and how very weak she suddenly was—and the horrible thought crossed her mind that, perhaps, Tom was the reason why she was so weak…that he was somehow leaching the life out of her to make himself stronger….

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"A memory," Riddle said quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." He stretched out one long finger and pointed at the diary, lying forgotten at the feet of the stone wizard, and as Harry’s eyes followed the movement, Aeryn tried to scream, to struggle, to melt the sluggishness from her muscles so she and Harry could get away from this place, but was answered only by her sickening weakness—

"You’ve got to help me, Tom," Harry pleaded, raising Aeryn’s head in his arms. "We’ve got to get her out of here. There’s a basilisk…I don’t know where it is, but it could be along any moment…." Aeryn’s head flopped to the side as Harry managed to hoist her half off the floor, and his free hand spidered across the floor for his wand. "Please, help me—"

"Are you looking for this?" Riddle asked calmly.

Aeryn’s half-closed gaze rolled to him. Riddle was twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers.

"Thanks," said Harry, stretching out his hand for it.

A smile curled the corners of Riddle’s mouth. He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly. Alarm bells began to peal warningly in Aeryn’s brain, and for the first time, she could feel the slow trickle of life siphoning from her body, feel herself growing weaker and weaker—

"Listen," said Harry urgently. "We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes—"

"It won’t come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.

The alarms ringing inside her head roared into full-fledged sirens.

"What d’you mean?" Harry said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it—"

Riddle’s smile broadened. "You won’t be needing it," he said.

Harry stared at him. "What d’you mean, I won’t be—"

"I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle interrupted smoothly. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you."

"Look," exclaimed Harry, "I don’t think you get it. We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later—"

"We’re going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand.

Her breath was coming in shallow, sluggish gasps. Her eyelids fluttered shut…it was so hard to keep them open…so heavy…but Aeryn garnered her slowly-draining strength and heaved them open. Harry stared at Riddle, an odd anxiety creeping across his features.

"How did Aeryn get like this?" he asked slowly.

"Well, that’s an interesting question," exclaimed Riddle pleasantly. He brushed his long fingers across his forehead. "And quite a long story. I suppose the main reason Aeryn Blake is like this is because she opened up her heart a little too much to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. For the past few months, dear Aeryn’s been writing to me, trying to get me to tell her about the secret of the Chamber of Secrets. And my, what interesting tidbits she’s disclosed about herself in exchange!" He smiled, and the gesture was as cold as polar ice. "By any chance, Harry, has she ever told you what her true genetic mutation is? Or how many people she’s killed? You might be surprised."

Aeryn moaned in protest. Riddle laughed suddenly, a high-pitched giggle that did not suit him. "Ah, so she still has a bit of the fight left in her! Very good, my dear. Keep trying, although I don’t know what good it will do now."

Harry gazed down at her in shock. It’s not…like that, Aeryn wanted to say, but her lips had turned into immovable stone.

"How did she—" Harry began shakily.

"But Aeryn’s personal past is only one part of the story, Harry," Riddle said quietly. A hard, knowing glint darkened his eyes. "I think the real reason we’re down here has to do with your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Aeryn’s heart thudded loudly in her chest.

Harry blinked. "Lockhart?" he said after a minute, his voice filled with skepticism. "But he’s incompetent—"

"Yes, he is, isn’t he," sneered Riddle. "And very self-centered, too. He had me first, you see, and he wrote to me for months and months, telling me all about himself, his desires, his pseudo-successes. It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly troubles of an egomaniac. But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind." He smiled a toothy grin. "And I was able to propose several solutions for his problems."

Snape was right, Aeryn thought in dismay. I was right…but her eye snagged distractedly on a tiny crack on the stone floor, and her thoughts dissipated into smoke.

"Once we both dropped our various charades, our relationship actually became somewhat enjoyable," Riddle continued. "Lockhart poured out his soul to me, and his soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of his darkest secrets, the pure, black evil that stains his soul." He laughed his high-pitched laugh again. "And there is evil there, Harry…raw, unadulterated, and shocking. I grew powerful, far more powerful than silly Gilderoy Lockhart. Powerful enough to start feeding him a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into him…."

Aeryn was able to drag her gaze back up to him. There was a definite edge surrounding his silhouette now, and she suddenly realized that she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers.

"What d’you mean?" said Harry, whose face had gone marble-white.

"Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Gilderoy Lockhart opened the Chamber of Secrets. He set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods and the Squib’s cat."

Resting in his arms, Aeryn could feel Harry twitch slightly at Riddle’s words. There was a very long pause. "What?" the boy gasped in disbelief. "I don’t…"

Riddle gave a bored wave of his hand. "Eventually, though, Lockhart became more trouble to control than he was worth. He had all sorts of different ideas…‘artistic license,’ he called it, and the demands he had…" He sighed in disgust and rolled his eyes. Crossing his arms across his chest, he stared piercingly down his nose at Harry in a very Snape-like gesture. "So I used my control over him to get him to dispose of the diary. And that’s where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet…."

"And why did you want to meet me?" said Harry, and Aeryn could hear a blistering anger in his voice even as he fought to keep it steady.

"Well, you see, Lockhart told me all about you, Harry," said Riddle. "Your whole fascinating history." His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead, and their expression grew hungrier.

The numbness had spread to the palms of her hands now.

"Why on earth would he do that?" Harry spat. Aeryn could feel his arms trembling. "All he wants to do is talk about himself, how great he is, how—"

"Because, Harry," said Riddle softly, "you were the one person in Hogwarts with more fame than he. You wouldn’t believe how much that burned him, that just the mere mention of your name would cause a crowded room to suddenly fall silent." His upper lip curled away in a sneer, and he began to recite in a high, mocking voice: "‘Tom, I can’t stand this! After the ceremony, everyone was talking, not about how I was the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but Harry Potter, how he crashed some stupid flying car into a stupid magical tree! Tom, the Dueling Club was a disaster…I might as well have just put a notice out for the Harry Potter fan club! Apparently, he can talk to snakes or some such nonsense…is that any fitting reward for me, the day after I break my back to give the students some fun, to have them instead only talk about Potter this, Potter that….’"

Serves him right, Aeryn thought listlessly.

"I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could," said Riddle. "So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust—"

"Hagrid’s my friend," hissed Harry, his voice now shaking. "And you framed him, didn’t you? I thought you made a mistake, but—"

Riddle snickered. "Exactly what Aeryn thought, Harry. But I’m coming to her. It was my word against Hagrid’s fifty years ago. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student…on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls…but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance…as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"

Aeryn’s hands hung like dead weights at the ends of her arms, and she realized indolently that her feet were two solid blocks of ice.

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed…Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," growled Harry through gritted teeth.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work."

"Well, you haven’t finished it," said Harry triumphantly. "No one’s died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again—"

"Haven’t I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been—you."

A queer terror lanced through Aeryn’s heart, and she found enough energy to pull open her fluttering eyelids and stare at the boy from the diary. Riddle’s face was pensive, and his eyes were very bright as he stared penetratingly at Harry.

"Imagine how angry I was next time my diary was opened," he said in a very, very soft voice, "and it was a young woman writing to me, not you. But when I found out it was our Aeryn, I couldn’t have been more pleased."

His hot gaze turned to her.

"Do you know what she told me?" he said, his voice redolent with amusement. "She said that you’d let her borrow me, so she could use me for a sociological experiment." He giggled, sending chills up and down Aeryn’s spine. "Ah, well, I told her a few lies as well. I said that you, Harry, had written to me about her. In actuality, everything I knew about the lovely Miss Blake came from the poison pen of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart."

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to hear a few lines? ‘Tom—ah, Tom—she wore my favorite robe to class today. Clinging silk that outlines every curve, and a low, scooping neckline that tauntingly reveals a most tantalizing glimpse of her delicious cleavage…I had her write a few lines on the board during class, and she accidentally dropped the chalk. She had to bend down to retrieve it and—well, it’s a good thing I was sitting behind my desk and my robes are so voluminous! I was hardly able to wait until the class finished before I could hurry into my back room and—" Tom broke off, his face twisted into a leer. "But I should stop there—the rest isn’t suitable for the ears of children."

Aeryn almost gagged. Harry’s face was screwed up in a mixture of revulsion and rage.

"But I instantly saw a use for our pretty Miss Aeryn," Riddle said. "It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir. From everything Lockhart had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery—particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. Unfortunately, my hold on Lockhart had slipped over the months—through my own will, of course. As I said, he was far too much of a trouble to keep."

He pointed a long finger to Aeryn’s crumpled form. "Aeryn, on the other hand, was so willing. So selfless. And what a melodramatic turn of phrase! ‘Forgive me for being naïve or easily misled, Tom, but for some reason I can’t believe Hagrid would do such a terrible thing as unleash the creature of the Chamber upon Hogwarts.’" His snigger echoed menacingly against the walls of the Chamber. "You could be a novelist, my dear, you really could."

It’s almost like air escaping slowly from a tire, Aeryn thought dreamily, feeling the gentle tug of her life-force as it escaped from her body. The numbness had spread upwards to her elbows and her knees, and the rest of her body was tingling, as if she had just scrubbed her skin with a loofah.

"But I needed more from her than just words, I needed something real, some raw emotion—and it was so very easy indeed, when the promise of information was held out before her." He smiled evilly. "You really should get her to tell you her sob story sometime, Harry. ‘My parents were murdered…I’ve never spoken to anyone about it. I didn’t have any magical power, but my father told me to take his, to go to England to find others of our own kind….’"

Aeryn was able to glance over at him in time to see him unsuccessfully smother a laugh. "And the teardrop at the end of the story was absolutely superb! The piéce de résistance, if I may say so myself." He mockingly kissed his fingertips in an overly dramatic motion. "Oh, she was such a Gryffindor, pouring her heart out to a complete stranger in order to save her friend Hagrid from languishing in prison! But if I may say so, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm people to get what I need from them."

Harry hadn’t moved. He seemed utterly beyond words. Aeryn wondered distantly whether her heart would stop beating once the numbness reached it.

"She had poured just enough of herself into me for what I wanted," said Riddle. "With Lockhart’s inherent evil and her life force, I was able to leave the pages of the diary at last."

"How did Aeryn get down here?" she heard Harry ask, as if from far, far away.

"Oh, that was simple." Riddle shrugged and rolled his eyes, as if Harry had just asked him how much two plus two equaled. "I made her write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. I must say, she hasn’t been quite as boring as I expected. But then again, it’s always intriguing to find a fellow mutant with a sharp enough wit to match my own…."

Aeryn’s eyes spasmed open wide.

"Fellow mutant?" Harry asked in a confused voice.

His only answer was a cold, cruel smile that twisted Riddle’s features.

Ah, so that’s it, Aeryn thought absently.

"I’ve been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here," Riddle whispered, but a furious intensity echoed in his tones. "I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat.

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

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now, and something stirred in Aeryn’s heart.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time…"

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

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

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

 

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

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

 

Through the numbness leaching the energy from her body, Aeryn felt a lancing thrill of horror that echoed into the very marrow of her bones.

"You see?" Riddle 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?" His eyes were smoldering with all the fires of Hell. "I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?" He laughed, but this time it was a splintering sound that broke painfully in Aeryn’s eardrums. "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!"

The horror of Riddle’s words had eaten through even the numbness that paralyzed Aeryn’s body. Above her, she could see Harry’s face drain of whatever color had remained, and his jade-green eyes gazed despairingly at the other boy…the boy that had grown up to slay Harry’s parents…

This can’t be happening, she thought blindly, her mind spinning like a top. The world was swirling wildly around her…she felt the trickle of life oozing slowly from her…

"You’re not," Harry said, his quiet voice full of hatred.

His arm slipped from beneath Aeryn’s shoulders and he slowly got to his feet, his hands clenching to fists at his sides.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days—"

The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. "Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He’s not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted, a snarl curving his lips.

Aeryn’s eyelids fluttered. So weak….

Riddle opened his mouth but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Aeryn’s scalp and made her heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size, for a moment breaking her from the deadness soaking her body. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Aeryn felt it vibrating inside her ribs, fire erupted at the top of the nearest pillar and a glorious, crimson bird the size of a swan arose from the dancing flames.

It trilled a loud, thrilling note that shook the vaulted ceiling of the Chamber like a church bell. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle. A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, and then in a brilliant flash of feathers, fluttered down to land on Aeryn’s stomach.

Warmth immediately spread through her from the bird’s taloned feet. It had stopped singing and was staring steadily at Riddle.

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

Harry turned and stared at the bird. "Fawkes?" he breathed.

Aeryn’s blurry gaze met the clear black eyes of the phoenix, and her blood stirred suddenly within her. Fawkes dipped his head and gave a long, low whistle.

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

Fawkes’ brilliant gaze darted to Aeryn’s limp hand; then he bent his head and preened his scarlet feathers quickly with his sharp beak. He cocked his head and looked pointedly at her hand again, giving a thrilling call. As Aeryn stared puzzled at the bird, a fuzzy, half-formed idea began to stir in her brain. A hiss of breath escaped her lips, and her hand twitched slightly at her side.

Riddle began to laugh again, so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

With slow, agonizing movements, Aeryn’s hand crawled awkwardly up from the floor, up her body, and flopped to rest against Fawkes’ taloned feet. She strained to lift her hand further, but she only succeeded in convulsing her fingers against the smooth golden talons of the phoenix. The scarlet bird trilled shrilly and dipped his gleaming head in a sudden movement, thrusting his beak beneath the palm of her hand.

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

Fawkes lifted his head, and Aeryn’s had slid down the bird’s neck to rest against the supple feathers of his back. The numb tips of her fingers dug slightly into the resilient crimson fluff. An indistinct memory, almost misted away from weariness, moved faintly within her….

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," said Harry abruptly. "I don’t know myself. But I know why you couldn’t kill me."

Her heavy eyelids dropped and Aeryn concentrated, drawing strength from a long-buried source locked deep away within her….

"Because my mother died to save me," Harry whispered, and his voice shook with suppressed rage. "My common Muggle-born mother."

A tingling began to smolder in her numb fingertips, like frozen skin being held in front of a roaring fire, and she began to pull, latching onto the phoenix’s life-force. Seconds later, a rushing surge like a typhoon flooded through her body as she drew from Fawkes’ energy, burning the numbness away with amazing speed, and the fuzziness of her vision was swept away like grime from glass, and every muscle in her body was instantly alert, and she could feel, she could see—

"She stopped you killing me." Harry’s voice was growing stronger and stronger. "And I’ve seen the real you, I saw you last year. You’re a wreck. You’re barely alive. That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding. You’re ugly, you’re foul—"

Aeryn could see Riddle’s face clearly, contorting in a hideous anger as he stared at Harry, and she forced herself to remain lying on the floor, crumpled at the feet of the statue so that he wouldn’t notice her sudden burst of energy—but he was paying no attention to her.

"So," he hissed. An awful smile twisted his features. "Your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful counter-charm. I can see now…there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come into Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike…but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know."

Aeryn’s hand slithered from Fawkes’ back. The phoenix cocked his head and, for a moment, Aeryn could have sworn he gave her a conspiring wink. The faintest of grim smiles twitched the corners of her lips, and the muscles in Aeryn’s legs bunched.

Riddle’s twisted smile widened. "Now, Harry, I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…."

He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then turned to face the huge statue under which Aeryn lay. Aeryn remained still as he stopped between the high pillars and looked up into the stone face of the wizard, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed, and a low rumbling met him.

Aeryn’s gaze flew to Harry. The boy’s face blanched with horror, and she rolled her eyes overhead, to the great stone face of the wizard—the wizard that, she realized suddenly, was none other than the image of Salazar Slytherin. In the half-lit gloom of the chamber, she could see Slytherin’s mouth open wider and wider to make a huge black hole. A slithering, scraping noise of scales against stone echoed in the still air, and her heart gave a great leap in her chest.

Riddle laughed again, the high-pitched sound ringing triumphantly in Aeryn’s eardrums like a hundred glasses breaking, and she watched as Harry stumbled backwards against the wall of the Chamber—the heavy warm weight of Fawkes disappeared as the phoenix, with an eerie call, shot away from the statue—her strength had returned—and for one horrible instant, she heard the spitting hiss of the basilisk as it emerged from the mouth of Slytherin—

"HARRY! SHUT YOUR EYES!"

Her voice roared deafeningly in the quiet Chamber, and Aeryn leapt to her feet, screwing her eyelids shut. An instant later something huge hit the floor of the Chamber with a sickening thud, and Aeryn, her blood singing with the power of Fawkes, threw her mind out before her in the absence of her sight. A huge, poison-green serpent drew itself to its full height—Harry ran blindly to the other side of the Chamber—Tom Riddle, his misty face horrible to look upon, hissed furiously to the basilisk, which slid menacingly towards the boy—terror lancing through her veins, Aeryn threw herself towards her friend, her feet slipping on the smooth floor—

*YOU!*

Riddle’s fury burst into her mind, and agony like a thousand beestings erupted throughout her body. Aeryn shrieked and stumbled, but again she saw the basilisk launch itself towards Harry, and she gritted her teeth and flung a telepathic wave right back towards Riddle. The misty-edged boy wavered and an echoing reply of pain registered in the ether. He growled and launched his mind again towards her, but she flung up an answering wave, catching him in a deadlock.

*The bird—* he snarled, pushing against her barrier. *I should have known—*

*Did you think I would just lie quietly by and let you kill Harry—* Aeryn snarled back, struggling to keep him from breaking through. *If so, you’ve sorely misjudged me, Tom—*

Their minds clashed like broadswoards, and it was all Aeryn could do to keep Riddle from burning his way through her shield. His rage filled her, enfolding her like a blanket of flame, stronger than anything she had ever before encountered. She shoved at him with all her might, and for an instant he faltered backwards, and Aeryn threw her mind back towards Harry, back into the Chamber—

A loud, explosive spitting followed by a soft crunch echoed in the Chamber, only slightly masking a boy’s choked, soft cry. Aeryn whipped around, her mind-vision searching frantically in the direction of the sound, but before she could find the source, Tom’s mind blistered into hers like acid. A keening scream escaped her lips and she crumpled to her knees, her tightly-shut eyes watering, and she gasped for breath—Harry—the basilisk—

A horrible hissing noise split the air—she couldn’t help it—her muscles quivering in pain, Aeryn cracked open her streaming eyes—

The enormous basilisk, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. A weird whistle scintillated from the vaulted ceiling, and she saw Fawkes soaring around the serpent’s head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers—

Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor, and Aeryn saw—the eyes, the basilisk’s great, bulbous yellow eyes had been punctured by the phoenix—blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony—she heard an angry roar from Riddle, and she launched her mind back towards him.

She met a wall of solid, powerful, frenzied wrath.

"NO!" The words Riddle screamed were in Parseltongue, but, locked in struggle with his mind, she understood him as clearly as if he was speaking English. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM! KILL HIM!"

Aeryn pulled herself to her feet and arrowed her mind towards Riddle, slicing through the ether like a dagger, but the boy from the diary batted it wildly aside, and Aeryn’s insides suddenly burned as if someone had poured liquid bleach into her veins. She choked back the scream in her throat and shoved back towards him—

"Help me—"

Harry’s wild, strangled, cry, jerked Aeryn’s attention immediately back to the Chamber. "Someone—anyone—"

Riddle’s snarl echoed in the ether, and Aeryn quickly pulled her consciousness away from him. As he faltered at her sudden disappearance, she desperately threw herself across the floor towards her friend.

*You won’t get away that easily,* Riddle hissed, and Aeryn’s movements were stilled as he caught her in a huge, invisible net. *You don’t stand a chance, mutant—soon your little friend will be stew meat for my pet, and then I’ll have enough time to shred your brain to pieces, one gray cell at a—KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! SNIFF—SMELL HIM!*

Aeryn forced her muscles back into her own control and sent a whirling wave of telepathic force towards Riddle. *You can’t talk your way out of this one, Tom,* she growled. *For all your words, you’re nothing but a fifty-year-old memory trapped in a diary—intangible, unable to affect anything—Harry will destroy your pet and then we’ll send you back into the diary where you belong, and this time you’ll never get back out—*

*You underestimate me,* shrieked the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, and Aeryn felt his fury wash over her like a monsoon. *Even as you strike against me, I grow stronger—can’t you feel your life siphoning away? The phoenix bought you a little time, but not enough—not enough—*

Aeryn swiped at him with all the strength she could garner, and Riddle gave a horrible scream, pulling his mind away from her and falling against the pillar as he writhed in pain. She reared back to smash into him one final time, but the breath caught in her throat, and her knees suddenly buckled. With a strangled cry, she crashed onto the floor, a sharp pain lancing through her side. She scrabbled frantically for her powers—but then felt the numbing ache lightning through her fingertips, and in an instant she felt a savage yank from Riddle and she groaned, feeling the life force leach from her—

—shockwaves of pain blistered the ether, and she opened her eyes and looked towards the end of the Chamber—

—as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching to the floor. Her gaze fogged like breath on a window, and she was only able to barely see Harry slide down the wall, gripping his elbow.

"No," she gasped, and hobbled across the floor to the boy. She got to his side just in time to see his bottle-green eyes glaze over as he slumped against the wall. She looked down at his body in horror, and saw, protruding from his elbow, the bone-white splinter of a basilisk fang.

"No—" but the rest of her cry died in her throat as Riddle fiercely slammed back into her. The remaining energy within her tore away as if it had been cut roughly with a knife. Aeryn folded weakly to the ground. In a swirl of color, Fawkes fluttered to rest next to Harry, and laid his beautiful head on the spot where the serpent’s fang pierced him.

Footsteps echoed off the stone floor, and then a dark shadow moved in front of them.

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

Aeryn felt like crying herself.

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

Aeryn struggled to rise and weakly sent out her mind questing towards Harry, but despair crept through her as she felt the slowing throb of his heart. The basilisk’s poison already seeped through his veins.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle’s 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 bought you twelve years of borrowed time…but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…."

Rage surged through her at Riddle’s taunting words, and with the rage came energy. Gritting her teeth, Aeryn gathered her slowly-waning strength around her like a coat of armor. Her mind began to whirl, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

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

Aeryn looked over and saw Harry giving his head a little shake, his gaze suddenly lucid. His wound was surrounded with Fawkes’ pearly tears…except there was no wound…There was a loud bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry’s arm. "Of course…healing powers…I forgot…"

He did not notice as Aeryn rose to her feet, her slate-blue eyes fixed wrathfully upon his now-sharp outline. Once again, in her mind’s eye, she saw the still-vivid image of her mother’s throat being slashed…heard her father’s dying gurgle…

Riddle 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…."

—with a choked growl, she drew from every last remaining bit of energy—

He raised the wand—

The ether crackled as her mind scorched into his with all the fury of an immolating firestorm. The wand clattered from his fingertips as Riddle screamed, clasping his long fingers to the sides of his heads and whipping back and forth in agony. He writhed like a serpent in her grasp, and Aeryn clung to him, refusing to give way. She twisted her head, turning her eyes away from Riddle and concentrating—and her gaze fell upon the feet of the statue. The black diary was lying open, its white pages pulsating with a gleaming light—and immediately, with startling clarity, Aeryn knew what had to be done.

With a telekinetic tug, the little black diary flew across the Chamber and dropped to rest in Harry’s lap.

Harry’s head jerked up and met Aeryn’s gaze. For an instant, no one moved. Then, with the speed of lightning, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

Pain erupted in Aeryn’s mind, and a long, dreadful, piercing scream rang through the Chamber. Riddle fell to the floor, writhing and twisting, and Aeryn violently pulled her mind as far away as she could from him, her body throbbing with his agony as he continued to scream and flail, and then—

A cooling absence rushed over her mind, and Riddle was gone.

Silence filled the Chamber like smoke.

Aeryn’s knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor with a low groan. The adrenaline had fled from her veins, and her breath was shallow in her chest as she rested her forehead against the stone floor. She closed her eyes wearily.

It was over.

She could feel the energy siphoning back into her body, all of her life that had been used to pull Tom from the diary, spreading tingling warmth through her skin. Aeryn pushed herself into a kneeling position, and her gaze wandered across the Chamber to rest on Harry. His robes were covered in basilisk blood, and in one hand he held a glittering, jeweled sword. He bent down to pick up the Sorting Hat from the floor, but as he heard her stirring, he halted and turned to look at her.

For a long, long moment, they stared at each other.

"Harry—" Aeryn said finally. Her voice was rough and trembling, and she swallowed to clear it. "Oh, Harry—I swear—I only took the diary because I thought—I thought—I could—"

But she was unable to complete her words, for Harry dropped the Sorting Hat and the sword with a loud clatter and raced across the Chamber towards her. He dropped to his knees at her side and flung his arms around her in a huge, relieved hug.

With a half-sob, Aeryn buried her head in her friend’s shoulder and embraced him tightly. Neither of them spoke as they remained locked in each other’s arms, silently gathering strength from each other.

It was over.

Finally, Harry pulled away from her and gave her a brilliant, thankful smile. "C’mon, Aeryn," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her to her feet. "Let’s get out of here."

Harry retrieved his wand and the glittering sword while Aeryn scooped the tattered Sorting Hat from the Chamber floor. For a moment, she was tempted to plop it on her head, but shrugged the urge away and reached down for the little black diary. Its pages dripped with ink, and the ragged hole left by the basilisk tooth scarred the spine. She paused and stared at the book, noting how normal it felt. She and Harry walked to the Chamber entrance where Fawkes waited for them, hovering.

"Thank you, Fawkes," Aeryn said softly, and was answered by the bird’s low, thrilling whistle.

She and Harry stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk and headed back into the tunnel. The stone doors closed behind them with a soft hiss.

After a few minutes’ progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached their ears.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up. "Professor Snape! Aeryn’s okay! I’ve got her!"

She heard Ron give a strangled cheer. Aeryn gathered her slime-stained skirts in one hand and jogged down the corridor, her feet slapping against the stone floor. She turned the next bend to see Ron’s eager face staring through the sizeable gap they had managed to make in the rock fall.

"Aeryn!" Ron’s face was shining like the sun as he stretched out a hand to her. "You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened?" He grabbed hold of one of her arms and tried to pull her through the hole, but there was a sudden weakness in Aeryn’s limbs, and she was unable to heave herself over the rocks.

"Let me, Weasley."

Ron disappeared from view as Professor Snape pushed him to the side and reached through the hole to grasp Aeryn’s upper arms. Aeryn barely had time to place her foot on the edge of the hole when the Potions master pulled her through with a powerful tug. She slipped on the loose stones with the sudden motion, and stumbled into him as she hit the floor on the other side.

"Professor—" she mumbled, but before she could speak another word, Snape wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and folded her to his chest in a powerful embrace.

For an instant, Aeryn froze. On any other occasion, she would have flinched away, his touch far too reminiscent of times she would soon rather forget. But instead, the breath sighed from her chest in a sound oddly like a sob, and she buried her face in his black robes.

She felt him press his lips against the top of her head, and he very gently stroked her hair with long fingers that were trembling slightly.

"Um—" Ron said uncomfortably behind them. "Where did that bird come from?"

"He’s Dumbledore’s," Aeryn heard Harry say, struggling a little as he squeezed through the hole.

"How come you’ve got a sword?"

"I’ll explain when we get out of here," said Harry wearily.

With what seemed to be great reluctance, Snape lifted his head from Aeryn’s hair. He slipped a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head upwards until he was looking her full in the face.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his voice uncommonly thick.

Aeryn nodded wordlessly. There was a brilliant intensity burning from the Potions master’s coal-black gaze, an intensity so powerful it frightened her. She tore her eyes away from his face and carefully stepped back, extricating herself from his embrace with difficulty.

"Hey, ‘Ryn," Ron said awkwardly, coming up from behind and putting his arms around her. "Glad you’re okay."

Aeryn smiled weakly and returned the hug.

Snape cleared his throat noisily and turned to Harry, who was wiping the glittering sword on his blood-soaked robes. "And you, Potter?" he said roughly, sounding a bit more professorial. "Were you hurt?"

"Um—" Harry began.

As Aeryn and Ron stepped away from each other, a warm touch suddenly slithered up her arm. Startled, Aeryn whirled around, and looked straight into the visage of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Miss Blake," he purred, his toothy signature grin crawling across his features. "So glad to see you alive and well."

Aeryn screamed.

Instantly, three wands jerked up and pointed straight at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, freezing him in his tracks. Shaking from head to foot, Aeryn backed away slowly. Lockhart’s periwinkle-blue eyes were wide as the other three glowered at him with hatred.

"You will stay away from her," Snape hissed, wrath written plainly across his features.

"Or what?" Lockhart snapped sullenly, not even attempting to look charming. He flung his arms out to the side and motioned towards Aeryn. "I was only trying to—"

"Or," Harry interrupted in a voice filled with smoldering anger, "I will send you into the Chamber and leave you there to rot."

"Really, Harry—" Lockhart began.

"Something’s up with this one," Ron exclaimed, waving his wand menacingly at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "We were moving the rocks, when suddenly not too long ago, this git here just fell to the ground, writing like someone was poking him with needles or something." He shrugged, the expression on his face showing no sympathy. "That lasted for a bit, and then he got up again, and he’s just been sorta—well—" He motioned disgustedly towards Lockhart, whose face had gone blandly neutral and was now humming to himself.

That must have been when Riddle was destroyed, Aeryn thought to herself, crossing her arms across her chest so he couldn’t see her hands trembling. The thought did nothing to calm her nerves. After all, once the boy from the diary had been banished, the life-force that had been feeding him had flowed back into her. Was it so very unbelievable, then, that the portion of Lockhart that had been sustaining Tom would have returned to its original owner….

"Let’s get out of here," Harry said, starting to head back up the tunnel. The rest of the group followed him and they walked back to the mouth of the pipe.

Harry bent down and peered up into the long dark pipe. "Have you thought how we’re going to get back up this?" he asked.

Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering ahead of them, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers.

"He looks like you want to grab hold," said Ron, looking perplexed. "But you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there—"

"Fawkes," interrupted Aeryn quietly, "isn’t an ordinary bird."

Harry turned quickly to the others. "We’ve got to hold on to each other. Ron, you grab Aeryn’s hand—and Professor Snape—" he glared murderously at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who was looking calmly around his surroundings. "Grab hold of his hair or something."

Harry tucked the sword and his wand into his belt, Ron took hold of the back of Harry’s robes and grabbed Aeryn’s hand, Aeryn slipped her hand into Snape’s, and Snape roughly grasped Lockhart’s collar. Once they had all settled, Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes’ tail feathers.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through her whole body, and in the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. The chill air was whipping through Aeryn’s hair, and before she’d stopped enjoying the ride, it was over—all five of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and as Aeryn got to her feet, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.

She ran a hand down her robe, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the clinging remnants of slime. Even though it was her favorite school robe, she decided there was no help for it—the robe was ruined; no amount of magic or elbow grease was going to get it clean. But it wasn’t all bad, she thought wryly as she glanced over quickly at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. According to Tom Riddle, this was Lockhart’s favorite robe, too.

Myrtle goggled at them. "You’re alive," she said blankly to Harry.

"There’s no need to sound so disappointed," the boy said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.

Aeryn watched as the Potions master ran a hand through his greasy black hair, streaking it further with oily green slime. There was a smudge of dirt running down his left cheek, and Aeryn dearly wanted to hand him a handkerchief so he could wipe his face. The innocent just-came-from-indoors-after-playing-in-the-mud look somehow didn’t seem to suit him.

"Oh, well…I’d just been thinking…if you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.

"Thanks," Harry said sourly.

In a flurry of colored wings, Fawkes gently swooped down to rest on Aeryn’s shoulder. She patted the bird gratefully and looked around at the assembled group. Harry righted his glasses on his nose and Ron stomped his foot on the floor, trying to knock the clinging mud from his shoe. Snape finally pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face as Lockhart sauntered over to the cracked mirror. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor peered intently into the grimed surface, scratching his fingernail at the drying flecks of slime covering his face.

"Now what?" Ron asked, looking around at everyone.

"Now," Snape said abruptly. The handkerchief disappeared and his voice took on its cold, clipped, professorial tone. "We are going to the Headmaster’s office, where you boys will tell Professor McGonagall exactly what just happened." He strode over to the bathroom door, his damp robes slapping about his feet. "And Miss Blake and I will explain to her the finally-ended saga of Professor Glideroy Lockhart."

In the reflection of the mirror, Aeryn saw Lockhart’s hands still.

A small, rueful smile warmed Snape’s face. "And, of course, we will tell her about me," he murmured, pulling the door open with one hand.

Shock and disbelief thudded through Aeryn’s body. Finally…after all these long months…it was finally going to be over. Relief washed over her, but the emotion was strangely colored with…consternation. But if Snape noticed the expression on her face, he kindly made no mention of it.

"If you don’t mind my asking—" Harry said slowly, but fell silent as Aeryn looked pointedly at him and shook her head.

"Trust me, guys," she exclaimed, putting her arms around the boys’ shoulders and steering them towards the bathroom door. Color fluttered ahead of them as Fawkes flew out the door and hovered, waiting for them in the hallway. "I promise to tell you everything—after I’ve had a good, stiff drink."

She looked up, expecting to see something akin to a smile creasing Snape’s face, but the breath froze in her throat as she saw the Potions master’s eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder, a look of utter horror darkening his features.

"What—"

With the speed of lightning, Snape leapt forward, grabbed Aeryn’s shoulders, and roughly swung her around. At the same instant, the bathroom door slammed shut, and the air was rent by the horrible, bestial cry of "Eblaris charbonia!"

The hands gripping her shoulders spasmed violently. The Potions master’s coal-black eyes widened and he gave a soft grunt. Aeryn watched in shock as his normally sallow face blanched pale and, with a wet gurgle, he crumpled to the floor.

"NO!!"

It took Aeryn an instant to realize that the rage-filled scream was from the throat of Gildery Lockhart. She looked up wildly and saw Lockhart, his features twisted almost beyond recognition, and shaking a wand in his hand—her wand—Aeryn grabbed her sleeve but her fingertips only met cloth, and she vividly remembered his touch slithering up her arm in the subterranean tunnel—

"Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus!" Lockhart shrieked, slicing the wand through the air like a sword, and she heard both Harry and Ron give sudden gasps as they were bound with the spell. She glanced down—Snape’s face had turned a sickeningly green hue and his eyes were rolling back in his head—the indrawn hiss of breath warned her and her gaze flew back up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—

But before she could leap for him, he spat the curse again. Her limbs abruptly straightened and she toppled backwards against the wall of the bathroom, completely motionless.

Gilderoy Lockhart strode over to the twitching Potions master. "Severus, you bastard!" he yelled furiously. Lockhart’s cheeks were flushed with dark red, and his periwinkle-blue eyes were rabid with anger. "You—screw—up—everything!" He snarled and delivered a brutal kick to Snape’s side, causing the other man to moan in pain. "That spell—a spell which, may I add, can only be cast once in a wizard’s lifetime—was intended for Aeryn!"

He wiped a driblet of spittle from his lips, glaring down at the other professor. "Ah, well, it might as well be for you, old chap. At least it won’t be wasted." A harsh, horrible laugh rasped from his chest. "Enjoy it—every long, agonizing, horrible second."

Lockhart raised his blond head and his glittering blue gaze fixed balefully on her. There was no beauty in his face, and the expression warping his features could have graced the visage of Lucifer himself. Aeryn struggled to draw breath as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher gave a sniff and tossed a handful of curls from his face.

"It’s a shame you didn’t die in the Chamber, Aeryn," Lockhart spat through clenched teeth. "A true shame. It would have made things a whole lot easier if you weren’t so damned resilient. But, now, I suppose I’ve got to go with Plan B."

Outside of the bathroom, she could hear the shrill scream of Fawkes as the bird launched itself against the closed bathroom door.

Lockhart brushed a hand down his robe, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles. "I can’t very well have all of you running around Hogwarts, spilling all my little secrets and telling everyone what I’ve done." He raised his head and one eye shuttered in a mockingly conspiring wink. "Why, I’d never sell another book."

Aeryn strained against her locked muscles, but to no avail. At her feet, there was a choking sound as Snape’s body was wracked by a sudden seizure. Lockhart gave a low, hysterical giggle as he stepped over the other teacher, and a sudden evil smile wreathed his face.

"And I’ve got such a good idea for the next one—" The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor stooped and grabbed the collar of Harry’s robe. He jerked the boy to his feet, the gesture slightly difficult because all of Harry’s muscles were locked in the Petrificus spell. Aeryn saw Harry’s eyes widen behind his black-rimmed glasses.

Lockhart leered at Harry and ran his free hand down the boy’s face hungrily. "What would be better," he purred, "than for Magical Me, the wondrous Gilderoy Lockhart, five-times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award—" He threw back his blond head and laughed, sounding frighteningly like Tom Riddle— "What would be a better public relations coup," he cried gleefully, "than for me to defeat, in wand-to-wand combat, the Boy Who Lived, the famous—the celebrated—Harry Potter?"

Aeryn stared at him in disbelief. She tried to speak, to make some noise, but her paralyzed vocal chords only succeeded in making a slight gurgle as she struggled to loosen her muscles. But they had turned to lead, and she couldn’t even lift a finger—

Lockhart tapped the tip of Aeryn’s wand against Harry’s cheek with a muttered word. "Who," he hissed, "just because a little spell went awry, is a million billion times more renowned than me, even after all I have accomplished—" He giggled again and tapped the wand against himself. "Yes—Gilderoy Lockhart will defeat Harry Potter—the boy that even Lord Voldemort failed to defeat, not once, but three times—"

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor locked his fingers in Harry’s robe, and then turned and placed a hand against the stone wall of the bathroom. As if the stone were molasses, his hand submerged slowly into the wall without a sound.

Frantically, Aeryn pulled against her motionless muscles until a burning pain spread through her body, trying vainly to scream her denial. But she could do nothing. Lockhart snickered one final time and threw himself and Harry against the wall. Within instants they had been sucked away into the stone.

A horrendous keening erupted from Aeryn’s throat and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as she concentrated all her mental energy inward and tore at her frozen muscles, tears streaming down her cheeks as the tendons were painfully ripped free, her fingers clawing the air as they were loosened. Agonizing moments later, she reeled back against the wall, panting as twinges ran the length of her body.

She pulled open her streaming eyes and looked around the bathroom. Myrtle had retreated to her stall and was sobbing morosely, the sound grating in Aeryn’s ears like sandpaper. Ron had clattered to the floor and was lying on his back, his brown eyes huge in his pale face. And Professor Snape—

Aeryn dropped to her knees besides the Potions master. She helplessly put a hand to his face, feeling the wet slick that had suddenly coated his skin. Snape’s face was as pale as egg whites, and his body was writhing on the floor as if he were being given electric shocks. He gave a strangled cry, and as Aeryn took his head in her hands, trying to keep him from thrashing around, a blackish blood began to ooze slowly from his nostrils.

Beside them, she heard Ron struggling to make a noise through tightly pinched lips, and she threw her mind his way. The boy gave a small gurgle of pain as she tore him free from his paralysis. The Potions master’s breath hissed from his throat, and his eyes fluttered open. Agony was liquid in their depths.

"Aeryn—"

She looked up and saw Ron crawl over to her side. His brown eyes were glazed and he was panting slightly. "Harry—Lockhart—what should we—"

The bathroom door flung open and Fawkes burst like a scarlet bullet into the bathroom, crying shrilly. With a flurry of feathers, the bird fluttered to the floor next to the Potions master, but Aeryn could see that Snape was beyond the help even of phoenix tears. His breath was jerky in his throat, and the blood was pouring from his nose in a river.

Aeryn’s hands slipped away from Snape’s face. A flood of warring emotions besieged her as she sat back on her knees, her vision focusing on the far wall. She had to get help—Snape—Madam Pomfrey would know what to do—but Harry, and Lockhart—if Dumbledore—

She put her hand blindly on Fawkes’ back, feeling the smooth texture of the feathers beneath her fingertips.

There was no time for hesitation.

"Get Professor McGonagall." She turned her slate-blue gaze and looked into Ron’s eyes, reading in them the same fear and desperation she felt welling in her heart. "Tell her what’s happened—everything, no matter what she asks, anything that might help her—and get Professor Snape to the infirmary immediately."

Ron nodded silently. Fawkes whistled and laid his beautiful head on the professor’s chest. Aeryn got to her feet.

"I’m going to get Lockhart and Harry," she said determinedly.

The glittering, jeweled sword lay forgotten on the bathroom floor. Aeryn hurried over and scooped it up, the metal cold and heavy in her hand. She paused long enough for one final glance towards Ron and Professor Snape, and then, clenching the sword tightly in her right hand, Aeryn bolted into the corridor.