Forthcoming

2.14 Heirs of Slytherin

Part Thirty.
Book 2.
Chapter 14.

Open," said Hadrian, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Hadrian, taking a deep breath, walked in.

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

Hadrian had to crane his 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 gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

"Ginny!" Potter muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny – don't be dead – please don't be dead –" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be -

Hadrian watched solemnly, trying to help Harry Potter awake Ginny.

"Ginny, please wake up," Potter muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Hadrian jumped and spun around on his heal.

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

It all came to Hadrian. Was this an older version of himself? Come to bestow the truth of Hadrian's true nature. It felt as though he was looking in a mirror. Until his eyes landed on the pair looking back at him. Cold dark brown eyes met his, and it became clear.

Then it all clicked -

"Father – Tom Riddle?"

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry Potter's face.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Potter said desperately. "She's not – she's not –?"

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

Hadrian stared at him. This couldn't be his father. Yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" Hadrian said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "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 Hadrian had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. For a second, Hadrian wondered how it had got there – but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"You've got to help me, Father," Hadrian said, looking towards Ginny's. "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. Potter, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny half off the floor, and bent to pick up his wand again.

But his wand had gone.