They had waited patiently for her to come, ever since they had left the Weasley's.
They had been camping on the outskirts of the forbidden forest, as they could not penetrate Hogwarts. So Harry, Ron and Hermione had contacted Professor McGonagall so that she could let them in the closed school.
They stood outside the closed gates in the pouring rain. Freezing wind whipped at their faces and rain as cold as ice lashed out at them like a child having a tantrum. But through the mist and torrential rain they saw a tall figure walking towards them.
"In my fifth year, you were attacked by Umbridge while they were attacking Hagrid. How did she injure you?"
"Four stunners to the chest" she replied grimly.
"Professor, how come you didn't answer our letter?" said Hermione under her hood. McGonagall sighed and turned to Harry.
"Potter, I'm so sorry, but… They got your owl." Sniffing, she pulled out a shoebox.
Harry got that cold, plummeting sense of loss in his stomach again. He didn't open the shoebox, where he knew Hedwig's diminishing remains lay, but clutched the box sorrowfully until his knuckles turned white. The only comfort he had had at the Dursleys, laying asleep forever in her cardboard tomb… he felt Hermione rub his back.
"I'm sorry, Harry. She lived to a good old age, though… had a good life." She muttered softly. Harry nodded, a lump in his throat.
"Perhaps you'd like to bury her near the owlery?" said McGonagall sympathetically.
"Yeah, she'd have liked that" whispered Harry.
McGonagall took out a silver key and inserted it in a tiny keyhole, muttering strange words. Harry heard clicks that indicated the locks were coming undone, and the gates swung open. Ron conjured a shovel, and they walked towards the owlery to bury Harry's pet.
*
McGonagall's office was just the same as Dumbledore's had been, minus the weird contraptions and Fawks the Phoenix. McGonagall had just gone somewhere and had told them to stay in her office for 5 minuets, so they had had a look around. Harry was thoroughly disappointed to see Dumbledore was not in his portrait.
Hermione had found two unsent letters, one addressed to her. She opened it to find a shining badge that read:
Hermione Granger
Head girl
She stared at it with an unreadable expression on her face.
"I'm sorry" whispered Harry. But she shook her head.
"The school closed, Harry, I wouldn't have been head girl anyway"
The door creaked open, and professor McGonagall entered the room.
"Now, what are you doing here?" she barked, sounding stern as usual.
"Professor, we need to get into the Chamber of Secrets" said Ron calmly. McGonagall paled.
"There? What do you want to go there for?"
"Sorry Professor, we can't tell you that" replied Harry. All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt as though he was being watched.
"Yes, Minerva, they are doing what I asked them to do" Dumbledore's portrait was in it's frame, his eyes twinkling.
"Very well" said McGonagall wearily. Harry longed to talk to Dumbledore, but there was work to be done.
They walked the silent halls of Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing. It was extremely strange to see Hogwarts so empty and lifeless: it really emphasized exactly how big the castle was, and it was a bit creepy. Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that they were being watched, and kept twisting his head around.
"What's up?" said Hermione.
"We're being followed" whispered Harry "I can sense it." Hermione looked around.
"I can't."
When they got to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she was floating around, wailing about death, but stopped as soon as she saw them.
"Students? I thought the school was closed." They ignored her and Harry whispered in parseltongue to the tap. Immediately it revealed an enormous chute filled with grime. Hermione jumped down first, Ron encouraging her, then jumped down himself. Harry looked suspiciously around the bathroom. He still had that feeling, then hurdled down the slide.
When he got to the bottom Ron and Hermione were bickering again.
"Don't push me Ronald!" she snarled.
"I didn't! Stop making such a fuss!"
But Harry froze. He had seen the tiniest slither of movement amongst the clutter of the numerous bones. "Probably just a rat" he thought, but the feeling was stronger than ever.
They reached the inner chamber, and as Harry opened the door a horrendous smell of rotting wafted out.
"Ugh!" chocked Hermione, her eyes watering. Harry thought he knew what was causing the smell, and sure enough he was right.
At the other end of the Chamber, the gigantic, coiled skeleton of the basilisk had been decomposing for five years. Mould and maggots had infested all over the bones, and Harry could see rats running around over the spine and chewing the remaining flesh. Its ruined eyes still stared blankly, and its fangs were planted firmly in its mouth. Harry grimly walked over to it. He could fit the Sword of Gryffindor in the hole in the roof of its mouth.
That wasn't all. There was dried ink stretching across the floor, and, with a horrific sensation in his stomach, Harry looked closely at the floor and saw the faint imprint of Ginny's tiny first-year body against the grime.
"Well" Ron looked disgusted "let's see if there's a horcrux here then."
They inspected the walls, statues, and floor tiles for a crack or different coloured brick that might lead to a chamber where the horcrux was kept.
"Show yourself! ... Horcruxes! ... I am Lord Voldemort! …" Harry hissed in parseltongue, but nothing worked. They tried several spells.
"Revealio! … Accio horcrux! ... Alohomorah!" Nothing. Harry wondered weather you had to give blood, like in the cave. But he wasn't about to smear blood on every inch of wall. Hermione even got out the revealer she had gotten in second year, running it lightly along the walls. Good thing it was charmed not to run out, as she ran it along the length of the grimy walls, and it did nothing.
They were at it for a good three hours, and Ron and Hermione were growing weary.
"There's nothing here, Harry" Sighed Ron.
There must be!" Harry was so sure Voldemort had hidden a horcrux in his ancestor's chamber. He peered through his glasses at the water-covered floor, and when he caught sight of his reflection he reminded himself strongly of Dumbledore.
"Harry, I really don't think there is" said Hermione quietly. Defeated, Harry turned to go with them.
Suddenly, they heard a low hiss, and turned around sharply. A pair of huge black eyes was staring at them, and yellowish- white fangs glinted in the half-light. Nagini, Voldemort's huge pet snake, had reared up, ready to attack. She was like a small basilisk.
"Don't- move" said Harry through gritted teeth "when- I- say" Nagini was slowly uncoiling, moving steadily towards them "run- like- hell" vicious, foot-long fangs were drawing nearer to them. "NOW!" The three of them sprinted to the door.
"Oh, no! Gryffindor's sword!" Hermione gasped.
"HERMIONE, NO!" Ron and Harry yelled, but Hermione had already darted back. Nagini changed course and slithered towards Hermione, powerful muscles flexing.
"Hey! Hey, snake!" Harry yelled in parseltongue, while Ron chucked rocks at it, but Nagini ignored them, still heading to Hermione, tongue flickering in and out.
Hermione had grabbed the sword, but the snake had got there and reared up again. Hermione pointed the sword to the snake's neck. But it was too late. And two long deathly fangs had pierced her flesh. …
Hermione scream cut through Harry like physical pain.
They stood there for what seemed like an eternity to Harry; Hermione's eyes unfocussed and a look of surprise etched across her face, Nagini clinging to Hermione's shoulder by her teeth. A silver bloodstained blade poking through the back of its neck.
Then, Hermione, with a furious cry, swung the sword around, and the snakes head came clean off.
Hermione with a look that told Harry, she knew she was seconds away form death's cold jaws, slowly sank to the floor.
"No!" Harry was frozen as her watched her head touched the floor. Sheer, cold fear was flooding through his veins like an icy poison.
"Hermione!" Ron screamed, and Harry snapped back to earth. Hearts pounding, they rushed to either side. She was still limply clutching the sword of Gryffindor. But he took her other hand. His entire being shook with horror as he found it was cold.
"Ron…" she whispered, struggling to look at him as he scooped her into his arms and ran back out the door.
He didn't know how Ron got them out of the chambers, or how Ron got them to McGonagall's office so quickly, screaming for help. All he could do was run along side him, grasping Hermione's hand feebly, not breaking eye-contact with her. The rest was a blur. Her eyes were like windows to her pain, as her soul was slowly being ripped from her body as the snake's venom spread. Harry felt as though his soul was being ripped from his body too, as he saw her, lying in Ron's arms, helpless, hopeless, dying…
She was dying… dying…
No, it couldn't be… Hermione couldn't die, not his Hermione. To think of Hermione dying at such a young age was impossible; in fact she was incapable of dying. She had so much to live for, so many people to live for. She had him to live for…
"PROFESSOR!" Ron yelled. McGonagall was sitting, talking to Dumbledore's portrait.
"I'll get poppy" he said as he saw Hermione's limp form.
"Oh my goodness, quick, Weasley, put her down!" Ron lay her on a bed McGonagall had conjured, and McGonagall pulled out a bottle of vivid green liquid, labelled dittany, and tore the shoulder of Hermione's robe. There were two round holes where the snake fangs had sunk into her skin, and they were like eyes to Harry, as scarlet as Voldemort's. And Harry pictured Voldemort's eyes, leering, jeering…
"I've taken her from you, Potter… your precious mudblood has little more than ten minuets to live… she'll die soon, just like everyone else you ever loved…"
"Harry…" Hermione's weak, trembling voice bought him back.
"Oh my life!" Madame Pomfrey had appeared at the office door. She bustled over to Hermione, babbing dittany on the wound. Hermione sobbed in pain as the wounds smoked. It was hard to tell as her robes were black, but blood had steamed all over her.
"There's something in this venom" said Madame Pomfrey in a hushed voice "Whatever bit her has been tampered with. I- I can't…" she shook her head lightly, and tears flooded her eyes as she pulled a thin white sheet over Hermione's body. Hermione's breathing was shallow and terribly laboured and her eyes looked as though she wasn't aware of her surroundings.
"I've never had a student die before!" said Madame Pomfrey in a high, squeaky voice.
"NO!" Yelled Harry and Ron together.
"No, she's not going to die! She'll be fine, won't she Professor?" Ron looked hopefully at McGonagall, but she was steering Ron and Harry pout of her office, tears flowing freely.
"I'm so sorry, boys" she whispered.
Ron burst into tears and sank to his knees.
"No…" Harry looked at Hermione. Madame Pomfrey had closed her eyes, ,but she was still breathing. The portraits had their heads bowed. "NO!"
He ran out, slamming the door behind him. Boiling, stinging tears streamed down his face but he did not bother to wipe them away. He ran and ran, not knowing or caring where he ran. Tears blurred his vision.
He found himself on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and slumped against a tree. Grif and rage engulfed him, and Harry began sobbing loudly, clutching his hair and falling to his knees.
There was a stich in his side, and his scar burned. Voldemort was angry that Nagini was dead. But physical pain didn't matter to him anymore; it was distant, separate, insignificant. He could feel every ounce of him screaming out: a part of him was dying with her.
Rage was consuming him, controlling him. He slashed the air wildly with his wand, and a few trees caught on fire. The urge to destroy was incredible, and he thrashed about, creating a small circle of destruction around him.
But he didn'y care; how could he, when his best friend was breathing her last breaths? One of only two people who could comfort him in such times of hardship was leaving him forever, and he was stuck, a living, existing wreck.
"WHY!?" he screamed, pounding the earth with his fists "WHY HER!?"
His knuckles were raw and bleeding, and he fell forwards, shaking and sobbing.
He didn't see the great pair of golden eyes watching the young man vent out his grief, or notice as the eyes filled with tears, sharing his pain.
And he didn't look up as, with a flutter of feathers, the large bird flew to the topmost tower, where McGonagall's office was, to pay a visit to the girl who was at the heart of all this hurt.
*
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