Braving the Past

Chapter 56: The Basilisk

Tom Riddle knew two things for certain: 1. he wasn't going to let Hermione leave his side ever again, and 2. he really really hated Harry Potter.

"I know how to speak Parseltongue," Harry was saying in his self-righteous tone that inevitably resulted in him speaking down to Tom.

Tom Riddle was not one that people spoke down to.

"I am the Heir of Slytherin," Tom reminded him, "and as such, I should be the one to open the Chamber that was created by Salazar Slytherin himself."

They stood in front of the old broken sink in the second floor girl's lavatory, having been arguing for the last five minutes over who should command the opening.

"I'm not letting the most vile wizard who ever lived mess this up," Harry insisted. "You're probably out of practice anyway, it's been so long since you've done anything."

"You know what? Fine." Tom raised his hands in annoyance. "I would love to see what a silly little boy with an over-inflated ego can do in the place of the last Heir of Slytherin. Go on."

Harry rolled his shoulders confidently, then looked to the sink.

"Open up," he said.

A giggle echoed through the bathroom, followed by the ghost of a girl that Tom, with a surge of surprise, recognized.

"If I understood that, then you must be doing something wrong," she said. "Hello, Harry."

Harry grimaced. "Hullo, Myrtle."

"Long time no see," Myrtle giggled again. Tom realized with glee that this ghost had a crush on Harry. "And a very long time no see for you, too." She directed this bit at Tom.

His glee was immediately wiped away. His heart sped up. She may not have seen him, but he was there when she died. He made a horcrux out of her death.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She showed no signs of recognition beyond remembering him from years ago.

"It's a long story, and we don't really have time to chat," Harry said. "We need to get down into the Chamber of Secrets, and the only way to do that is to speak Parseltongue." He looked pointedly at Tom when he said this.

Tom held back a snicker and folded his arms, leaning casually against the adjacent sink. "What you said was English, Mr. Potter. Care to try again or are you finished embarrassing yourself?"

Harry ground his teeth, and tried again. "Sssssssaaaiiiiiiiiaaahhhhhh ttthhhhhhaaaaaaasssshhhhh."

Merlin, the boy sounded absolutely ridiculous. Myrtle let out a raucous laugh and bent over herself in the air, clutching her ghostly stomach.

Harry looked at Myrtle, then Tom, dumbfounded. "I don't understand," he said. "I used to be able to speak it without even realizing I was doing it half the time."

"Looks like that's changed. Are you ready to give up the ghost, now? No offense, Myrtle, of course."

She moaned and flitted over to the stall she'd emerged from. "No offense to the only ghost in the room, is that it?" she whined. "It's as if I'm as big as an elephant!"

The two boys shared an uncomfortable look.

"I didn't mean it like that, Myrtle. The way you take up space is quite...elegant and beautiful. Not many ghosts can accomplish that," Tom attempted in his most flattering voice.

Myrtle stopped and turned around, her look bashful once again as she gave a smile to Tom.

"Can we get on with this, please?" Harry spoke up.