the ring︱harry potter x (fem.) reader

cøs: best friend

~ rex orange county

"(Y/N)'s mother..."

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Harry's POV

I was standing at the end of a long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. 

My heart was beating very fast, I stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was the whole reason I came, (Y/N)?

I pulled my wand out and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the walls. I kept my eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, I thought I saw one stir.

Then, as I drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue was as high as the Chamber itself came into view, it was standing against the back wall.

I had to crane my neck to look up into the giant face above: 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 grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, face down, lay a black-robed figure with (h/c) hair. 

"(Y/N)!" I muttered, sprinting to her and dropping hopelessly to my knees. "(Y/N) -- don't be dead -- please don't be dead --" I flung my wand aside, grabbing (Y/N)'s shoulders, and turned her over. Her body rolled lifelessly over. Her face was white as marble, and so cold. Her eyes were closed, so I could tell she wasn't Petrified, which wasn't at all relief to me. 

"(Y/N), please wake up," I muttered desperately, shaking her. "Please come back to me.  Hermione needs you. Ron needs you. I- I need you."

"She won't wake," said a soft voice. 

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though I were looking at him through a misted window. But there was no way to mistake him.

"Tom -- Tom Riddle?"

Riddle nodded, confirming himself, not taking his eyes off of my face. His eyes occasionally drifting up to my scar, but then darting back down to my eyes. 

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" I said desperately. "She's not -- she's not --?" my voice broke off. 

"She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

I stared at him, hoping he would also drop to his knees and help (Y/N) survive. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen. 

"Are you a ghost?" I asked uncertainly

"A memory," Riddle said calmly, as if someone weren't dying in front of his eyes. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

He pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary I had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. For a moment, I wondered how it had got there -- but there were more pressing matters to deal with. 

"You've got to help me, Tom," I said, raising (Y/N)'s head and placing it on my lap. "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.... Please, help me --"

Riddle didn't move, as if he hadn't heard a word I had just said. I was sweating, terrified of what might happen. I managed to pick (Y/N) up off of the floor, holding her bridal style, but her feet were dragging along the floor. I bent down to pick up my wand... but it wasn't there.