Gaunt ~ Book 2

Forty~Gaunt

a/n: Same reminder as usual, I'm combining J.K. Rowling's work with my own. Hope you enjoy!

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Harry.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked a more flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got to me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, t tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a great, big, pair of yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. . . ." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was so sorry she ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry, Ron, and Marvolo hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of terror on his face.

It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. Then Marvolo saw it: scratched on the side of one of the copper tabs was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as Harry tried to turn it.

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But —"

Harry stood there for a moment, obviously thinking hard. Then, he stared hard at the tiny engraving.

"Open up," he said.

He looked at Ron, who shook his head.

"English."

Marvolo stepped forward, and as easily as a hot knife slipped through butter, spoke in Parseltongue. 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 through. Ron gasped.

"I'm going down there," said Harry.

"Me too," said Ron, with Marvolo nodding his agreement.

There was a pause.

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

He put his hand on the door knob, but Harry, Ron, and Marvolo pointed their wands at him.

"You can go first," snarled Ron.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

"Boys," he said, his voice feeble. "Boys, what good will it do?"

Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe.

"I really don't think —" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight. Harry followed quickly, then Ron, then Marvolo.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. Marvolo could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and he knew he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. In front of him he could hear Ron, thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Lockhart and Harry were already up and Ron was brushing himself off.

"We must be miles under the school," said Harry, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," said Ron, squinting around the dark, slimy walls.

All four of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead. The tip of Marvolo's wand lit up.

"C'mon," he said, leading Harry, Ron, and Lockhart, and they went off, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wand light.

"Remember," Marvolo said quietly as they walked cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes right away. . . ."

But the tunnel was as quiet as a grave, the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Marvolo lowered his wand to the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Marvolo swallowed and led the way forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

"Marvolo — there's something up there —" said Harry hoarsely, grabbing Marvolo's shoulder.

They froze, watching. Marvolo could just see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.

"Maybe it's asleep," Ron breathed.

Marvolo glanced back. Both Harry and Ron were pale and Lockhart's hands were pressed over his eyes. Marvolo turned back to look at the thing, his heart starting to beat so fast it hurt.

Very slowly, his eyes as narrow as he could make them and still see, Harry edged forward, his wand held high.

The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that shed it must have been twenty feet long.

"Blimey," said Ron weakly.

There was a small movement behind them. Gilderoy Lockhart's knees had given 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 Marvolo jumped forward, but it was 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. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and how you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body — say good-bye to your memories!"

He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, "Obliviate!"

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb.