Mystique → Hermione Granger [2] ✔

I 16 I Slithering Serpents

~*~

Taking a deep breath, Alexander cast his blue, watchful eyes about. The chamber was dimly lit and supported by stone pillars; the ceiling was shrouded in darkness.

'Remember, any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away,' murmured Alexander softly to Harry, his voice a faint whisper. 'We shouldn't take any chances.'

Harry looked pale and nodded bravely. 'Right.'

Alexander could've sworn that the hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes followed their every move. A chill crept by slowly as dark shadows masked the stone walls and floor. He had forgone his cloak earlier and greatly regretted it, decked in a thin school shirt.

The two boys listened to the menacing silence, and every measured step increased Alexander's urge to turn back and run. And to keep running until he reached his four-poster bed then to burrow his head under the silky covers until the sun came up. It wasn't very Gryffindor of him, he realised, but he couldn't help it.

But he had to get a grip. This was no time to be scared despite what the weight in his gut signalled. Not when a Basilisk could be lurking in a murky corner, or behind one of those pillars. Most importantly, Harry was depending on him. Steeling himself, he locked his fear in a corner of his brain.

Harry pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. An eerie feeling of déjà vu swept over. It wasn't the first time the two boys had been at risk. A statue loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Alexander swallowed nervously, craning his head to peer closely. If he squinted, it almost looked like Dumbledore, with its ancient face and long, thin beard, but the features were sharper, colder looking.

'Ginny!' exclaimed Harry, breaking Alexander's gaze.

'Wait!' But Harry sprinted across the chamber before Alexander could reach for him and dropped to his knees. Beneath the statue's feet lay a figure with flame-red hair.

'Ginny – don't be dead – please don't be dead —'

Seeing as nothing had jumped out at them, Alexander cautiously approached, still observing his surroundings of the Basilisk. It can't be this easy, it was too calm. Alexander sucked in a short breath. Ginny was pale, dangerously so, almost corpse-like if he hadn't kneeled to check her wrist. It was faint but the pulse was still there, muffled and sluggish. Ginny was barely alive, hanging on by a thread. They might be too late.

A part of Alexander felt a crashing wave of guilt for never checking up on Ginny before. He's never personally talked to her, except for shy, awkward interactions in the Burrow. She was simply Ron's little sister. And in Hogwarts, Ginny had her group of friends. He furrowed his brows. But then how was she involved in this whole business? She's a Pureblood, same as the rest of the Weasleys.

'Come on, please, Ginny, wake up,' pleaded Harry, grabbing her shoulders for a little shake. Ginny's head lolled from side to side. He peered up at Alexander in desperation. 'She's not waking up, what do we do?'