SERPENT'S SONG | Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets [2]

𝘅𝘅𝘅 | 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗹𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻

Harry slid down the cold stone wall of the Chamber, his vision blurring, the sword of Gryffindor clattering to the ground beside him, the fang clutched in his free fist. The basilisk was dead, he knew that much, as for himself, he would soon join the King of serpents. Beside him, a flash of crimson swooped down, and he felt the weight of Fawkes the Phoenix's head on the wound that had penetrated his arm. Ahead of him, the dark figure with ice blonde hair lay as lifeless as he would be any second now.

The Chamber swam before him, the white hot searing pain of the basilisk venom spreading through his veins, draining him of life.

A shadow swept over him, and Tom Riddle, sixteen year old Voldemort, stood over him, twirling Harry's wand between his long fingers. His outline was waving but the transparency of his figure was almost completely diminished.

He'd lost.

'You're dead, Harry Potter,' Riddle's voice taunted. 'Dead. Even the bird knows it. Look what it's doing. It's crying.'

With a great effort, Harry tilted his head down; through the blur, several thick pearly tears were dripping from Fawkes's eyes and down his scarlet feathers.

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

The Chamber continued to spin.

'So ends the famous Harry Potter,' Riddle went on, his voice distant. '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...'

Dying, however, was not as bad as Harry expected. The room began to focus again, and slowly the pain was disintegrating. The Chamber came back into full view, and Harry shook his head, and there was Fawkes, resting his crimson head atop his arm, tears dripping around the wound... except there was no wound.

Riddle stepped forward, yelled at the bird to move. His face twisted in horror as he realised what had happened.

'Of course, phoenix tears have healing powers. How did I not remember...?' He paused, glared at Harry. He raised Harry's wand.

'No matter, I prefer it this way,' his face twisted into a vile grin. 'Just you and me, Harry Potter... just you and me...'

In a swoop of scarlet and gold wings, Fawkes had flown overhead again, his song echoing around the Chamber, and dropped something in Harry's lap. The small, leather bound diary.

He didn't know what made him do it. He didn't know why or for what reason, but, in one swift swing of his arm, Harry raised the basilisk fang above his head and stabbed the diary.

A long, horrifying scream filled the Chamber; before him, Riddle writhed. From the diary, red ink spewed from the gash, spilling onto the ground, pooling at Harry's feet—