Gaunt ~ Book 2

Forty-four~Gaunt

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

Harry grabbed the top of the hat and pulled it off.

"KILL THE BOY!" Riddle bellowed. "LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! SNIFF — SMELL HIM!"

Harry was on his feet, ready. In his hand sat a sword made of gleaming silver, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.

The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. It lunged blindly — Harry dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, its forked tongue lashing Harry's side.

"Run, Harry!" Marvolo yelled.

Harry took his advice and sprinted behind a column and disappeared from sight, the basilisk smashing along behind him.

"Congratulations," came Riddle's voice. "There was your one heroic act of the season. Did you spend it well?"

Marvolo turned around, "What do you mean?"

Riddle's cold laugh split through the air.

"Potter does all the work!" he said. "All you have to do is push him in the right direction and hope he makes it the rest of the way. Last year you beat Quirrell and I, but you did it the Slytherin way. Harry Potter was the hero simply because he was an orphaned Gryffindor!"

"Harry didn't get all the credit," said Marvolo. "We won the House Cup."

"But that's the House Cup. You don't understand. Potter just had to be there to be famous. He just had to be there when his parents died to get that scar everyone's obsessed over. He just had to be there when you told him to run away last year. He just had to be here, when you gave him the advice to stay alive. You're the real mastermind in this whole Harry Potter operation. Potter's just the fore-front, the cover."

"If this is a ploy to get me to join you, Tom, it won't work," said Marvolo, taking a step forward. "I've already abandoned Harry twice since I've known him. He's my friend and I shouldn't've blown off on him last time. I'm not fighting him."

"Are you trying to be like him?" Riddle spat. "Are you trying to be a Gryffindor? You can't be re-sorted. Slytherin's in your blood. You join me or you'll be a traitor to your family."

"I've never met my family! How am I supposed to betray people I've never met?"

Riddle held out his hand, palm facing upward.

"Take my hand, and I'll show you."

"I'll pa —"

Marvolo was interrupted by crashing noises and a yell.

"KILL HIM!" Riddle bellowed. "HE IS ONLY A SMALL BOY AND YOU ARE A BASILISK! KILL HIM! SMELL HIM!"

"You might be taking it a bit over the top," said Marvolo.

"The yellings for dramatic effect," said Riddle. "I just yell whatever comes to mind."

Harry ran into the room, basilisk in tow. Something struck Marvolo as he and Riddle watched. Maybe his cousin was right, maybe he was only there to push Harry in the right direction. Maybe he was expendable.

The basilisk lunged, this time it's aim true — Harry drove the sword into the serpent's mouth —

The basilisk kneeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor. Harry was covered in blood and there was a basilisk fang sticking out of his arm, just above his elbow. Harry slid down the wall.

"No," Riddle whispered. "He couldn't have . . . he's only a boy."

"He's Harry Potter," said Marvolo dully. "He's the boy-who-lived."

"He may be the child that survived the Dark Lord but I doubt he can fight a friend,"

Marvolo turned to see the red glimmer in Riddle's eyes.

"He doesn't have a friend to fight,"

"Not yet he doesn't,"

Then Riddle was on him, Harry's wand in hand, grasping Marvolo's head.

"What are you doing?" Marvolo gasped.

Riddle let the pain respond. The pain was so bad it felt like Marvolo's head was splitting in two. His eyes started watering and he slid to his knees, Riddle's hands still on his head. Images were flashing through his head now. They were memories. Marvolo opening the door to get them away from Fluffy, Harry leading the way past the sleeping Fluffy, Marvolo and Hermione figuring out Snape's riddle, Ron passing McGonagall's giant chess set, Marvolo catching the key to get to the giant chess set, Marvolo defeating Quirrell, Marvolo speaking Parseltongue in the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione not wanting to tell Marvolo about Riddle's diary, Marvolo telling Harry to run.

Suddenly, as the pain reached its climax, it stopped. So did the memories. The only things left were Riddle's hands on his head and a voice inside him, not his own, but someone else's, chanting Harry's name over and over again.

Riddle crouched down to Marvolo's level.

"You were saying?" he said, a mocking smile on his face. "I think Harry Potter does have a friend to fight. You." 

He stood up and walked away. Faintly, Marvolo could hear him talking to Harry.

"You're dead, Harry Potter. Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying. I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time, I'm in no hurry."

Marvolo forced himself to turn around, even though every limb in his body was aching madly.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle. "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, Harry. . . . She bought you twelve years of borrowed time . . . but Lord Voldemort got you in the end as you knew he must. . . ."

There was a pause.

"Get away, bird," came Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him — I said, get away —"

Riddle was pointing Harry's wand at the phoenix from earlier. There was a bang like a gun, and the phoenix took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears . . ." said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course . . . healing powers . . . I forgot . . ."

He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter . . . you and me. . . ."

He raised the wand —

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into Harry's lap — the diary.

For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stare at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream.

Something was born inside Marvolo. He felt it, a seed. A dark seed, sprouting and opening, revealing something he had never felt before. His other half. The Gaunt half.