Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning - blood, injury, transphobia, repeated deadnaming and misgendering

As they walked, Luna fumbled for her wand. Their expression darkened as he came up empty-handed. “Fuck,” Luna muttered. Rhiannon stared at xem – she’d never heard vim swear, it sounded almost wrong coming from them. Was that how it sounded when she swore? She pushed the thought aside, it was only distracting.

“What happened?” Rhi asked, but she felt she already had the answer. It was more for something to say than anything else. Luna’s shoulders set, obviously ze didn’t have the patience for inane questions and Rhiannon internally kicked herself. “You lost your wand?”

“Yes,” Luna growled, then sighed and rubbed some of the muck from his face with one hand, grimacing as she then wiped it off on her jersey. “No wonder Lockhart made such a mess, though I suppose it just as easily could have been Ronald’s wand – they’ve been having trouble with it, right?” vie asked.

Rhiannon nodded, though she did look sidelong at Luna over the choice of pronouns. Maybe it was nothing – Luna had a very casual attitude to gender. But maybe xe had noticed something, too. “Why would your wand make such a mess? I’ve not seen you having any problems with it.”

Luna shrugged. “It’s particular. You remember Master Ollivander, he said it was an experiment he abandoned? That’s why. It’s not profitable to make truly choosy wands, and mine is. Acacia tends to withhold magic for all except its’ owner, and vine is – highminded, purposeful. So it could easily have been mine that made the bang, Solvi Frederiksen got a fair zap when she took it off the table.” fae explained.

Rhiannon made a small noise of interest, and Luna grinned at her, teeth a pale flash in the wandlit darkness. “Sorry. I read up on wandlore too – out of interest. But I suppose it could have easily been Ronald’s too – black walnut, it doesn’t like deceit... and there’s no one more deceitful than Lockhart, is there? I have to say, it’s a serious oversight for the Ministry to have let him go on for so long like that. All those poor people they’re going to have to track down.” Luna mused sadly.

Rhiannon stopped, as her boot bumped against something of a different shape in the darkness. It squished and creaked, out of place amongst bones, loose stone and slime. She frowned, and held her wand closer – then immediately recoiled, as she realised what she had stepped on. Lit up by her wand and stretching out ahead of them further than Rhiannon’s wandlight extended was what could only be a shed snakeskin – but she had never seen one so large, nor even imagined one could be. The King of Serpents indeed, she thought grimly. No wonder the Acromantula were beside themselves, if this was the form their greatest enemy took.

Rhiannon clenched her trembling hands into fists and squeezed her eyes shut. Nyx – you’re my instincts, right? Because I could use them right about now or we’re all dead. Compartmentalising helped her set aside her fear of the real wolf, but she was still uneasy with the idea of it. But unease wouldn’t help her now. She needed her self, her whole self, engaged and on this task because it wasn’t just Ginny’s life at stake anymore, or even her own – Luna was wandless, and a fifty-foot serpent was somewhere in these caves. The answer came to her in a rush, bringing with it the heady energy of a hunt. Breathe.

Rhiannon braced herself against the side of the tunnel and abandoned her sensory jinxes. She trembled, but did as the instinct said. At first, it was overwhelming – stink and fear and old blood all tangled up together. But Nyx was a wolf, and wolves were persistent. Rhiannon-Nyx breathed in, forcing her heart to steady as she sorted through the smells and sounds of the tunnels. Stones clicked and rattled behind her, but she did not startle – that was only Luna, Luna was Pack. The snake-skin held no fear to the wolf either – it told her roughly the size of her enemy, and that was a valuable gift. Crowded tunnels, to move a fifty-foot snake in... Rhiannon-Nyx was sure she had been right, there must be somewhere wider up ahead – this was not the Chamber itself, only the maze.

Breathe. She could sort through the scents now, discarding those of rot and blood and even the persistent alien smell of snake. She knew there was a snake, this was its warren – if it was close, she would hear it. What she needed was the smell of human, the Girl-Carrying-Death. She found it here, stronger even than the smell of serpent – not just new scent but old and everywhere as she walked slowly ahead down the tunnel. This was not the first time Ginny Weasley had been to the Chamber of Secrets.

Luna looped their arm around Rhiannon’s to leave her hands free, though in truth she hardly needed the cane – she just didn’t want to lose it down here. Rhiannon-Nyx nuzzled briefly into Luna’s shoulder before she set off down the tunnel towing xem in her wake. “Rhi, slow down – you let your wand go out, I can’t see,” Luna whispered.

Rhiannon-and-Nyx almost growled in frustration, though she slowed and re-lit her wand for Luna’s benefit. The instinct to seek could never outweigh the one that kept her close to her pack. Wolves didn’t hunt large prey on their own – they stuck together. She followed the freshest trail of Ginny’s scent past the long, crumpled form of the discarded greyish snakeskin, wand clenched in her left hand as she kept her ears sharp for anything else that moved around them. But nothing did. The Chamber was eerie in its silence, the only sounds made were their footsteps on the rough footing. It could have been deserted, had Rhiannon not known better. But that meant instead that the snake was very well hidden, or even magicked.

Luna shook Rhiannon’s arm, and she turned to look at them curiously. “Look – something your nose missed,” Luna whispered, half-teasing to lighten things, and pointed ahead of them. Rhiannon squinted, and held up her wand to peer ahead of them. Luna was right – she’d been listening and smelling for anything living, and lost track of the terrain itself. Rhiannon had been right in her challenge to McGonagall though that was hardly a comfort, as she faced down a towering round door set directly in the rough stone of the tunnel. Upon it were two entwined serpents cast in metal too old for her to distinguish its nature, and unlike the rough engraving in the bathroom, little more than a scratch – these were works of art. The wolf had no appreciation for art. She growled, and narrowed her eyes at the things as their eyes glinted in her wandlight. Not alive but... they might as well have been.

Rhiannon pushed Nyx’s influence aside – this was a very human sort of magic, and the wolf was no help with it. Unlike the bathroom carving, she didn’t have to work to imagine these were alive – they already suggested they might be. “Open,” she whispered to them, and the snakes parted themselves and withdrew with a clicking of hidden mechanisms. The door split into halves and withdrew into the wall with barely a scrape, and Rhiannon was left beside Luna facing the dim tunnel as now a steady greenish light was revealed somewhere not far ahead.

Smoothly, Nyx fitted back into Rhiannon’s mind as if she had never left, and she breathed deeply. The smell of snake was stronger now, but so was that of Ginny, and the dark magic she carried. She should have known all those months ago that this was the cause, but should-haves wouldn’t save anyone now. She used her elbow to squeeze Luna’s hand against her side for a moment, and tugged them with her into the passage the door had left. The green light was closer now, illuminating the edges of a great open space just metres ahead of them, and Rhiannon-Nyx was comforted by Luna’s hand on her arm as together they padded through the tunnel and gasped in unison as it opened out into a great high-ceilinged chamber lit dimly from something deeper within.

The high ceiling was supported by pillars, with great snakes carved in stone twined around them. The ceiling itself was lost in darkness, and now that they stood there to see, the greenish light seemed – unnatural, not a product of skylights or anything as they had guessed. Rhiannon and Luna lurked in the shadows cast by a pillar, Rhiannon-Nyx listening intently to the chill quiet of the space. Water dripped somewhere in the distance and her own heartbeat roared in her ears, Luna’s breath whispered beside her – but there was no other sound in the Chamber. Where was the Basilisk? Where was Ginny? Surely she could have heard them.

Luna tugged Rhiannon’s arm and they stepped out from the shadows into the Chamber, grimacing as their feet met ankle-deep water over the stone. They had been unable to see it from their place behind the pillar, but at the far end of the Chamber was a great statue of a wizard who could only have been Salazar Slytherin. He was wizened and ancient, with a grey beard that rivaled Dumbledore’s for length. He towered above them, easily thirty or forty feet tall with the top of his head lost in shadows far above them. Now they could see that the greenish light of the Chamber emanated from an unflickering globe of something held in the statue’s outstretched hands. But that wasn’t what held their attention. At the foot of the statue lay a small figure, spreadeagled on the stone with her uniform in disarray. Her hair, the edges drifting in the shallow water, was turned brownish by the green-tinted light, but Rhiannon-and-Nyx could have recognised her anywhere, as did Luna.

“Ginny!” Rhiannon-and-Nyx cried, almost howled, and broke from Luna’s hold, splashing as she rushed forward to kneel beside the still figure, disregarding the slime and muck that now coated her knees. She put an ear to the girl’s chest and sighed with relief – she lived, though the sense of dark magic was stronger than it had ever been and she recoiled, her eyes stinging and head pounding. Luna reached them a few moments later and took hold of Ginny’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Rhiannon shook Ginny’s shoulder gently, her head lolled – she was cold, her eyes closed – but not Petrified. And lying open a metre or so from one trailing hand was the diary, the one Rhiannon-and-Nyx had known was evil from the moment they smelled it on her. It filled the whole chamber with its hungry-death smell, grasping.

“She won’t wake.”

The voice was cold, high-pitched and musical for a man’s. Rhiannon-and-Nyx recognised it instantly. She grabbed for Luna’s hand, having discarded her cane, and whirled to face it with a growl rising in her throat. “Tom Riddle,” she hissed, her chin lifted to meet the gaze of the ghostly figure before her. Her scar pulsed with a bright flare of agony and she doubled over, Luna’s fingers pressing into her hand even as the spectre laughed. He was shaped just as she had seen in the diary’s memory, sixteen years old and arrogantly handsome in his out-of-date Hogwarts uniform with his sleek black hair slicked over one eye, a Prefects’ badge pinned to the collar of his cloak.

“So you recognise me!” Tom Riddle crowed. “And you – who might you be, either of you?”

Rhiannon-Nyx hissed with the pain and squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to fend off the blackness that encroached on her vision, not now, not now. But there was nothing she could do. She comforted herself that the chamber was dim anyway, her ears and nose were of more use right now. She drew herself up and faced Tom Riddle again, her shoulders and chin set defiantly. “Rhiannon Potter. W-w-w-w-what, don’t recognise me?” she asked, her voice cracking with fear, though she did not back down.

Tom Riddle stared at her, then laughed again. “Potter.” he replied, drawling over the word. “You know, when you wrote in the diary – I thought it was some sort of joke, but no, you really do think yourself a girl!” he mocked.

Such taunts held no weight for Rhiannon anymore, and even less for Nyx. She’d survived much worse, and lived much better. “And- a-a-a-and you thought me enough of a threat to try and kill me at fifteen months old, so – wh-w-w-w-wh-at does that make you – other than a ghost?” she jeered back. Certainly her taunt’s efficacy was weakened by her stutter, but Luna’s hand in hers gave her strength. In any case, Riddle drifted backwards, hissing with fury.

“You – think you can mock me? Me?” he snarled. “Though I suppose – at least, you know to whom you speak. A coward would have been boring, a stupid one, even more so... No, Harry Potter – I am no ghost. A memory, preserved in a diary for fifty years. Kept safe, until I found my way to this girl. And now her time is over – just as yours is!”

Riddle’s voice rose to a painful fever pitch as he cried the last words, and swooped towards them. He had seen Rhiannon-and-Nyx as she edged towards the diary, thinking him distracted. Rhiannon-Nyx recoiled with a pained gasp as Riddle’s half-tangible form collided with her, her headache thudding louder. She squeezed her eyes closed against the breathtaking pain, but knew it was no use, and opened them on only darkness. “Luna,” she gasped, fumbling for their hand. Luna seized her flailing hand in xir own solid one and squeezed it tightly, a comfort, as they both staggered back from Riddle as he guarded Ginny’s body and the diary.

Why did that matter? Why the diary? But... “A memory, preserved in a diary for fifty years.” Ginny wasn’t dead, neither was Riddle fully alive – “He needs- he- the diary, to come back. We can still- stop, him,” Rhiannon whispered hoarsely, fighting for words around the blinding pain. Nyx howled agreement in her brain – they had a time limit, before their friend was lost to them. They couldn’t lose this.

“Such a foolish girl,” Riddle drawled, calmer now that they had retreated from him. “She poured out so much of her soul to me, so much – magic, life – that she had so little left. So little of sweet, ambitious, angry Ginevra Weasley left in there. I was almost disappointed, you know, to take someone from our own house... but in the end she was weak, and she let me in. Better to cleanse the stain. I had higher hopes for her than this... she could have been a willing partner, had she only listened... but no. She was too weak, to cleanse this school of its filth. Just another blood traitor.”

Rhiannon’s hands shook, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out in fury. Nyx was of no help – she said to attack him, now- drive him back from the diary, from Ginny... Nyx was not thinking clearly either. She had no way to drive back a spectre, wand or no.

“Dear Tom,” Riddle recited in a high, tremulous mockery of Ginny’s voice, “there’s rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. I’m scared, Tom. Dear Tom, there was a cat attacked on Halloween and I don’t remember where I was, but there’s paint down my front – everyone says I’m pale, I think they suspect me, even my friends.”

Rhiannon’s hands were clenched now, nails biting into her palms. Now she understood. “You made Ginny open the Chamber,” she whispered, tears of fury trickling down her cheeks. “You- you made her attack her friends. You hurt her!”

Riddle laughed, though it was a chilling sound – had Rhiannon not known his identity, she would have known it then. She had heard that sound in her nightmares longer than she could really remember. “Of course – no one at this school had the talent, the power to be a willing servant. I had hopes for Ginny – it was a blessing that a Parselmouth just fell into my lap, but she was weak. Weak and stupid – “Dear Tom, I think I’m the one attacking everyone!” - but she didn’t stop trusting her diary, trusting me. She didn’t think! Young wizards, they’re nothing these days.”

Rhiannon shook her head grimly. “She – sh-s-s-sh-she figured it out,” she disagreed. “She tried to get rid of it.”

Riddle rolled his eyes, gesturing widely with his arms. “And see how well that worked out! Stupid girl, to think I was trapped in the diary, when I made it myself. She had let me in, and with her I stayed. But it led me to someone else, for a time – to you. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. It was you, that afternoon, in the bathroom – wasn’t it? You could have been my monster, to unleash on the school... a beautiful thing it would be, too. That’s the trouble with Basilisks – there’s no blood, no – drama to it. I could have made you mine, given time.” he whispered, leaning forward to stroke Rhiannon under her chin in a way that made her skin crawl.

Rhiannon lifted her gaze to meet the spectre’s. “No, you couldn’t.” she replied, though her voice trembled. “I-I-I-I-- I knew you l-l-l-l-l-lied, as soon as you tried to tell me it was Hagrid. I was going to take it to McGonagall.”

Riddle laughed again, withdrawing and crossing his arms. “So you did,” he sneered. “And that was why I kept my little – backup plan. It wouldn’t have done for you to go to that new Headmaster of yours, no. And see, from the time you opened it, a little piece of me rode with you. You knew the passwords – and as such, so did I. And so did young Ginevra. She was desperate to please me by then. It took only a nudge for her to retrieve my diary.”

Rhiannon-and-Nyx ground her teeth, her lips curling in a silent snarl. “You hurt her,” she growled, the rumble rising in her throat. “You’d have- have h-h-h-h-a-ha-had Hagrid sent to Azkaban for this, when ev-everyone knows it wasn’t him.” she spat.

Riddle snorted. “Everyone? No, no – not everyone. I got an award for Services to the School for catching him, and it was all hushed up. Only one man ever questioned it, other than the lumbering fool himself. Albus... Percival... Wulfric... Brian... Dumbledore.” he hissed, drawing out Dumbledore’s name mockingly. “But he kept it to himself. Rubeus Hagrid was of more use to him where he was, dependent on his generosity. Still, he kept an annoyingly close eye on me... I knew I’d not be safe to open the Chamber again while I was at school, but thanks to his kindness in keeping my secret to himself... I was able to leave this memory of my younger self behind, should opportunity come my way again.”

Rhiannon shook her head, bitterly entertained by the idea. It was a sad thing, that Riddle should be the one to provide the most correct assessment of Albus Dumbledore that she had ever heard. In a way this was all on Dumbledore. Why was it that it had been a pack of twelve-year-olds who figured out what the monster was, and where it laired – when adult wizards had access to the same information they did but in even greater quantity? Dumbledore had said nothing, and done nothing, and fifty years later the problem he neglected was back as vicious as ever.

“And here I heard, Dumbledore was the only wizard you were ever afraid of.” Luna quipped, holding tight to Rhiannon’s free hand.

Riddle rounded on them, teeth bared in rage. “Afraid? Afraid, of Albus Dumbledore? When he was driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me? No, little girl – whatever story you heard was very, very wrong.” he hissed.

At that, Rhiannon-and-Nyx threw her head back and laughed, a harsh, barking kind of sound, half-choking on rock dust that had been caught in her throat as she did. “D-d-d-d-driven out?” she gasped, clutching her wand hand to her stomach as she wheezed for breath. “As – as if he left willingly! No – he was right. Dumbledore will only really be gone when nobody here believes in him – when there’s no-one left who’s loyal! This whole school is as good as his!”

Riddle’s snarl twisted and he opened his mouth to speak, but something else cut across him. Rhiannon-and-Nyx gripped Luna’s hands tightly as an unearthly sound brought goosebumps to her skin. It had to be near, because Riddle and Luna could hear it too, though their reactions were wholly different – Riddle’s spectral face was slack with shock, while Luna stared openmouthed with wonder at something past them, at the other end of the chamber. Rhiannon-Nyx turned to look, as the music – for it was music, albeit of a sort she could never name – drew nearer.

From the shadows that hid the tunnel from which they entered, something emerged, blazing with golden light. Rhiannon squinted at it, then gasped aloud as the creature soared over them, revealing itself as its light dimmed. It was a beautiful crimson-and-gold bird the size of a swan, its’ feathers trailing little flames in its flight. It cast its eerie song throughout the chamber, revealing even the ceiling in flickering light as the feathers on its tail, near the length of a peacock’s, blazed with captive flames. Unlike a peacock, however, its beak and talons were sharp, heavy and curved like those of a bird of prey, and in its’ gleaming talons it clutched a ragged bundle of – something.

Suddenly, as all three of them stared, the bird’s song peaked and it swooped down from the ceiling with a ringing shriek, the flames in its feathers blazing a trail behind it. Rhiannon-and-Nyx quailed as it plummeted towards her, but it was Riddle’s reaction that steeled her and held her in place, as the spectre of Tom Riddle reeled backwards, shrieking in fury. “Dumbledore! Albus Dumbledore and his pet – always meddling! See, Potter, what Dumbledore sends his defenders? A songbird, and – ha – that’s the old Sorting Hat!” Riddle jeered.

Luna shook her head grimly, and nudged Rhiannon’s arm. “That’s a phoenix,” he breathed, wonderstruck.

Rhiannon-and-Nyx didn’t really care that it was a phoenix, she’d have cared as much had it been a parrot. It landed heavily on her shoulder and nudged her ear with its gleaming beak. Its flames seemed contained to its feathers as they didn’t touch her, and something fell to a floor with a thump. Rhiannon-and-Nyx looked down, seeing Riddle was right on that too – that was indeed the Sorting Hat. She ground her teeth, another growl rising in her throat. Oh, help would always be available at Hogwarts... but it’d be presented as a bloody riddle first! Rhiannon-and-Nyx bent down and picked up the hat, crumpling it in her hands in disgust.

“Why would you bring me this,” Rhiannon murmured, turning the hat over. There didn’t appear to be anything special – it was just a hat.

“Do you feel brave now, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe, even as your little girlfriend clings to your arm? See what being Dumbledore’s pet gets you!” Tom Riddle mocked them, with an airy wave of his hand that encompassed the bird, the hat and the two of them facing him..

Rhiannon-and-Nyx lifted her chin and growled at him, her eyes flashing with fury. “I’m not doing this for Dumbledore.” she replied, trembling with fury. “A-a-a-and – and I’m no less brave than you, hiding behind a name made up of bad French! What did you do, write it in the margin of your schoolbooks?”

Riddle hissed in fury – or at least, Rhiannon thought it was just fury. But as she pushed Nyx aside, she could hear the words in it. She recognised that voice too now, she had heard it in September – “No! That wasn’t the target!” But now his anger was cold and he turned his back on Rhiannon and Luna, lifting his hands above him as he spoke to the statue at the head of the room.

“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”

Rhiannon-and-Nyx’s blood chilled, even as she curled a lip at the phrasing. She heard it now, the slithering whisper of scales over stone, as the mouth of the statue slowly slid open far, far above them. “Close your eyes,” she whispered to Luna, her hand a rictus grip on theirs. “I – I think he lost patience for playing with us.”

Now, for the first time, her temporary blindness was an advantage. She didn’t need sight to navigate this Chamber as someone else might have – sight was only dangerous, as that was how the Basilisk’s power took hold. She was reminded of the story of Perseus, facing down Medusa with his back turned, and had to choke back a laugh as she and Luna retreated as quietly as they could. Some Perseus she made, with an old hat instead of a sword!

The phoenix took off from her shoulder, the downdraft from his wings blowing Rhiannon-and-Nyx’s hair into her face. She swore and hunched over, trying to push it back from her face even as she cast about with sound and scent for where their enemy was.

There was a heavy whump and a dry splashing, slithering sound, as the Basilisk, for it could only be the Basilisk, dropped the last short distance to the ground. The phoenix cried out, a painful bell-like that rang throughout the Chamber, and something – the Basilisk, presumably – hissed and spat furiously. Luna jerked Rhiannon backwards, and Rhiannon-and-Nyx hissed in pain as something that burned splattered her hands and face. Luna too cried out, but muffled it in vir sleeve, and dragged Rhiannon behind a pillar.

“The phoenix – got it in the eyes,” Luna explained breathlessly. There was a strangled shrieking hiss from the main chamber, and Luna’s grip on Rhiannon’s hand shook. “It’s – helping us.”

Rhiannon-and-Nyx curled a lip. “Well, that – that evens the playing field,” she quipped, though her voice trembled. That was the Basilisk’s greatest weapon gone, but they were still two novice students against a fifty-foot magical beast.

“No!” Riddle shrieked, though he spoke Parseltongue – he was talking directly to the snake, Rhiannon realised. “Leave the bird! You can still take the boy – he’s behind you! You can still smell him, go!”

That gave her an idea. Riddle wasn’t the only one who could speak to snakes – could she turn it away? Or better yet – turn it on him? Rhiannon pushed Nyx to the back of her mind and shook off Luna’s hand and stepped out from behind the pillar, tilting her head from side to side as she struggled to pinpoint its location. “Leave us – he’s making you hurt, isn’t he? Trapped down here-” Rhiannon broke off with a gasp, half-sobbing as she staggered back, putting a hand up on the pillar to steady herself. What she had felt was a flood of hurt – no, agony – and fury, and hunger. How long had Hogwarts stood? How long had it been trapped down here, as a monstrous safeguard should the school become too welcoming to those Slytherin had hated? Tears fell freely from Rhiannon’s sightless eyes and she welcomed Nyx back into her consciousness, a protection against the backwash of agony that her attempted contact with the Basilisk had brought. There was no turning it aside, no talking her way out – Rhiannon wasn’t sure she believed in monsters anymore, but someone had made this thing into one by years of neglect. And that knowledge settled cold and hard in her gut – the only way out of this would be to kill it. It would even be a kindness to it.

Rhiannon-and-Nyx jammed the Sorting Hat down on her head to free up her hands, and gripped her wand tighter in her left hand. “Help me,” she thought desperately, angrily – “if you’re here to help, help, or we’re all dead!”

Something very heavy thudded down on the crown of her head, setting stars to blazing in the blank field of her vision. Rhiannon-and-Nyx growled, swore, and swept the hat back off her head, only to find it heavier than it should have been. Something sharp pricked against the side of her hands and she loosened her grip on it – whatever had thumped her on the head had also cut through the battered leather of the hat. She felt for the opening of the hat, and her fingers brushed against cold metal. She closed her free hand around it and drew it loose of the hat, and with a wondering gasp she realised what she held by its balance. She discarded the hat and retreated back to the pillar she and Luna had sheltered behind.

“Luna?” Rhiannon-and-Nyx asked softly, suddenly gripped by the irrational fear that he had gone. But no, there was their breath, faer heartbeat, her hand in Rhiannon’s own. She shook the hand off, shaking her head as she did so, and thrust her wand out at where she guessed Luna to be. “Take it,” she whispered, and drew the sword closer to her side so that Luna could see it.

Luna gulped audibly. “But – it’s your wand, it won’t listen to me.”

Rhiannon-and-Nyx fumbled for Luna’s hand and squeezed it for a moment. “I-I-I listen to you, why wouldn’t it?” she asked, rusty-voiced and weary with fear. Nyx’s influence was a steadying certainty in her veins, the calm before the rush. “The Hat, it – gave this to me,” she murmured, with a wiggle of the hand that held it. She felt its grip in her hands, and took hold of its handle with her other hand – it was steadier that way, the sword was meant to be wielded with two hands. “Wh-w-w-w-wh-what do we know about Basilisks?”

Luna made a small noise, like an audible frown. “Armoured scales. Spells bounce off – it’s part of why they’re so dangerous.” she replied.

The beginning of a ridiculous idea was forming in Rhiannon-and-Nyx’s brain, and she grinned widely. “Is its’ mouth armoured?” she asked, and flinched as Luna grabbed her arm and pulled her away from where she’d stood. She almost lost her grip on the sword, as it was it slipped and banged the flat side against her knee. She would have sworn, but a crash behind them told her Luna had likely just saved her life, as Riddle and the basilisk shrieked and stone groaned under the strain.

There was no more time left for plans, as Riddle urged it to seek her out. Rhiannon-and-Nyx adjusted her grip on the sword, forcing the trembling from her limbs as she breathed deeply and drew herself upright. Four feet seven inches was hardly anything impressive, but she could feel the weight of the sword – she needed to stand right to swing it, or she’d not be able to. “He-h-hehe-hhhhh – he’s got it seeking me. It’s going to come at me.” Rhiannon murmured, thinking it over. If spells bounced off, so would her sword. “I- I need you t-t-t-t-to – to guide me. You – get it with a spell. Just to be sure.”

Luna squeezed Rhiannon’s shoulder briefly, and moved to stand close behind her – close enough to guide if need be, while remaining out of the way of the two-handed sword. “Good plan,” fae whispered, voice trembling. They both flinched as something else crashed, but it was on the other side of the Chamber, and by Riddle’s shrieking it seemed the Basilisk had lost its sense of direction.

“You need to stay behind me but clear,” Rhiannon whispered back, as she strode into the open Chamber. Then she set her shoulders and lifted her chin, bringing the sword up as she did so. Now this Perseus was complete. “RIDDLE!” she yelled, silently proud that her voice did not falter. “COME AND GET ME!”

Riddle howled in triumph, and bellowed for the snake to attack Rhiannon. She felt the whoosh as it whirled clumsily to face her, Nyx bayed in her ears to strike, but she stood her ground.

“Rhi! Get left, it’s going to miss!” Luna yelled, and Rhiannon-and-Nyx retreated – though it took her a moment to figure out what way was left. The basilisk’s charge was indeed off, and it struck the wall behind them instead. The very tip of its’ tail lashed Rhiannon’s face as it passed and she staggered, but recovered as Luna cried a warning.

This time as it lunged for her, Rhiannon-and-Nyx held steady. She could smell the sickness on its’ breath, decay and hunger, but she did not falter. She raised the sword, adjusted its’ position as Luna instructed her, and held firm. Then she lost patience in waiting. Riddle’s shrieks rang in her ears and she lunged for the Basilisk. Holding the sword aloft before her she sprang at it like Nyx would a deer, and plunged her sword into its open mouth even as it began to close on her, fighting for balance on its’ lower jaw. There was a searing pain in her left shoulder, and something whooshed past her, striking the Basilisk just as Rhiannon’s sword had, and the sword was torn from her hands as the Basilisk was thrown backwards. Rhiannon-and-Nyx tumbled to the ground and lay there, aching all over, her palms torn and bruised. The searing pain spread throughout her body, burning in her veins. Dully she heard the Basilisk and Tom shriek, heard something heavy fall to the ground, and then – it was too quiet. Perversely her vision began to return, just flickers and patches of green, but – something wasn’t right. It was too soon, and her hearing was failing... Rhiannon-and-Nyx growled, but the sound was a weak one, and she fell flat as she tried to push herself out of the muck with her good arm.

“I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter.” said Tom Riddle in a conversational sort of tone. It cut through the haze that blanketed Rhiannon-and-Nyx’s hearing, though even that was sort of muted, fuzzy around the edges. Dimly she felt someone clutch her hand – Luna. Riddle laughed. “Basilisk venom – much more beautiful a death than just its’ stare. It’s quite poetic, don’t you think – to fall even as you slew my pet? It was your own foolish rush that carried you into its fang. Take your time – I’m in no hurry. Thankyou, for such a delightful evening’s – entertainment. You fought well. I’m almost impressed. But you are dead, Harry Potter, even Dumbledore’s bird knows it, and I – soon, I will live again.”

Something heavy landed on Rhiannon-and-Nyx’s side, claws pricking through her jersey. She tried to curl her lip, to growl, but her face felt numb and she gave up. Someone’s hands braced her head and gently pulled her head into their lap – Luna, again. Tears fell from Rhiannon-and-Nyx’s eyes, a strangled whine rose from her throat. She would have nuzzled into the touch if she could. If this was dying... it wasn’t so bad.

Luna’s strong hands shifted to her injured shoulder, and very gently ze rolled Rhiannon over. The claws on her side shifted, and something – Dumbledore’s bird, she realised dimly, lay its head against the injury. Wetness trickled across her torn skin, soothing the burn in her veins, the clawing itch in her nerves.

“What – what is that bird doing?” Riddle asked, in that same conversational tone. But his voice was clearer now, with none of its fuzziness from before. And as Rhiannon listened, she felt strength flood back to her. She curled her hands into fists, a slow smile spreading over her face which was no longer numb. Riddle came to the realisation she did, and he shrieked with fury.

“Phoenix tears!” he howled, even as Luna helped Rhiannon upright. Nyx bayed for his blood, but she pushed the wolf down – the fight was done. She fell flat against Luna’s chest as the spectre of Riddle swooped towards them, shrieking – but Rhiannon was not his target, he shrieked vengeance on the bird. With Luna’s help, she staggered to her feet, and stood there swaying in place as Luna left with a soft reassuring murmur.

Luna pressed something slippery into Rhiannon’s hand, and she felt the sweat-soaked leather binding of the sword’s grip as she wrapped stiff fingers around it. Every one of her aches and pains were making themselves known, from the dull throb in the now twice-wounded shoulder to the splashes of poison blood that had sprayed over her hands and face, the shallow cut on her palm and the grating misery of her much-abused knees. Rhiannon turned the sword’s point to the ground and leaned on it heavily as Luna guided her back to where Ginny lay at the foot of the statue.

“His shape’s not bound to this thing but... I think he is,” Luna murmured, as she bent down to inspect something beside Ginny, pulling Rhiannon down with him. They pressed something small, sodden and awful-feeling into Rhiannon’s free hand, and at once, Rhiannon understood.

“Destroy the – thing that holds him here. He’s a memory right?” Luna urged.

Rhiannon’s grip on the sword slipped, she caught it just before it slammed to the floor though she bruised her hands in the effort. “I – I can’t,” she whispered, trembling. The sword’s weight had given it momentum and power, now it was almost too heavy to lift. Luna took the diary from Rhiannon’s hand and by the sounds of it, spread it on the floor.

“Then we do it together,” Luna replied, folding his larger hands over Rhiannon’s on the handle of the sword. Riddle shrieked in fury as he realised what they had, but that only spurred them to action. Guided by Luna, they lifted the sword up and slammed it point down into the diary on the floor.

Rhiannon swore she felt the dark magic in the Chamber weaken, fracture. But it was not yet gone. “Again,” she whispered hoarsely. Luna murmured agreement and again they lifted the sword, again they struck the diary. Rhiannon fumbled to cover her ears as Riddle bellowed in fury, but he was done – she could already feel his magic lifting, breaking, fading, as did the pain in her head. She dropped the sword and rushed to kneel beside Ginny, listening for heartbeat, for breath – anything.

And there it was. Stronger, more certain, where before it had fluttered and trembled weakly like a suffocating bird. Ginny was alive. “Ginny?” Luna asked softly, letting go of Rhiannon and by the sound, shaking Ginny gently. A soft gasp, a weak cough, and Rhiannon’s heart eased.

“You – d-dd—dod-don’t have t’ talk,” Rhiannon slurred softly, before Ginny could get a word in. “Jus’ rest. You’re safe now.”