Harry could hear Hermione coughing, but he had no strength to lift his head.
All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place
where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone; Hermione had
cut him free.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's concerned voice said. Her hand touched
his shoulder and he found the strength to get up. Shivering violently, he
staggered to his feet. Hermione stood before him, fully dressed but drenched
to the skin. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she held the sword of
Gryffindor in one hand and the Horcrux dangling from its broken chain in the
other.
"Why didn't you take it off before you dived in, Harry?" she asked, but Harry could not answer. The silver doe was nothing--nothing compared with Hermione saving his life once again.
Without speaking and shuddering with cold, he caught up the pile of clothes still lying at the water's edge and pulled them on. As he dragged sweater after sweater over his head, Harry stared at Hermione, still unable to speak. She took a step towards him.
"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked again. Finally he found his voice.
"It was you," Harry said
"Yes."
"You cast that doe?"
"What, of course not, Harry! My Patronus is an otter. At first I though it was yours, but then noticed the lack of
antlers."
"When did you see it?" he asked her.
"I heard a noise outside the tent, and then saw the doe. It wanted me to
follow it, which I did, and came across you and then pulled you out of the
lake. "
"You didn't see anyone else?" Harry asked
"I think I might have seen something move over there," she said pointing to
two trees growing close together. Harry hurried over to the place she had
indicted. There was a gap of only a few inches between the trunks at eye-level --an ideal place to see, but not be
seen.
The ground around the roots, however, was free of snow and Harry could see no sign of footprints. He walked back to where Hermione stood waiting, still holding the sword and the Horcrux.
"Anything there?" she asked.
"No," said Harry
"How did the sword get into the pond, Harry?"
"Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there." Harry and Hermione both
looked at the ornate silver sword, its rubied hilt glinting a little in the
light from Hermione's wand.
"I do hope this is the right one," she said softly.
"There is only one way to find out," said Harry
The Horcrux was still swinging from Hermione's hand. The locket was
twitching slightly. Harry knew that the thing inside it was agitated again.
It had sensed the presence of the sword and had tried to kill Harry rather
than let him possess it. But now was not the time for long discussions; now was
the moment to destroy the locket once and for all. Harry looked around,
holding Hermione's wand high, and saw the place: a flattish rock lying in
the shadows of a sycamore tree.
"Come here." Harry led the way and brushed snow from the rock's
surface and held his hand out for the Horcrux. Hermione nodded,
understanding that she had to be the one that destroyed this Horcrux,
"I'm going to open it," said Harry. "And you stab it. Straight away, okay?
Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the
diary tried to kill me."
"Are you going to use Parseltounge to open it?" Hermione inquired. Harry
nodded and looked at the serpentine 'S', inlaid with glittering green
stones: it was easy to visualise it as a minuscule snake, curled upon the
cold rock.
"Make sense, doesn't it?" he said to Hermione
"Oh, I wish you didn't have to open it... but you do, and I'm here for when
you." Hermione said, gripping the sword tighter. Harry reached across and
give her shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks," he said softly and then turned back to
the rock with the Horcrux upon it.
"Ready?" he asked and Hermione nodded
"On three," said Harry looking back down at the locket and narrowing his
eyes, concentrating on the letter 'S', imagining a serpent. The
contents rattled like a trapped cockroach. It would have been easy to pity
it, except that the cut around Harry's neck still burned.
"One..Two..Three…Open!"
The last words came as hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket
swung wide with a little click.
Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and
handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and
slit-pupilled.
Beside him Harry heard Hermione gasp in shock.
"Stab," commanded Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock.
Hermione raised the sword in her shaking hands; the point dangled over the
frantically swivelling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing
himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty window.
Then a voice hissed from out of the Horcrux.
"I have seen your heart and it is mine."
"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it!"
'I have seen your dreams, Hermione Granger, and I have seen your fears. All
you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..."
"Stab," shouted Harry; his voice echoed off the surrounding trees, the sword
point trembled and Hermione gazed down into Riddle's eyes. '
"Least needed, least respected, second best to his sister, easily forgotten,
muggle born."
"Hermione, no, don't listen, just stab it," Harry bellowed; he could feel the
locket quivering in his grip and was scared of what was coming. Hermione
raised the sword still higher, and she did so, Riddle's eyes gleamed
scarlet.
Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two
grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry, Ginny, all weirdly distorted.
Hermione give a squeal of shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out
of the locket--first chests, then waists, and then legs, until they stood in
the locket as it burned suddenly white hot.
"Hermione!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with
Voldemort's voice and Hermione was gazing mesmerized, into his face.
"Useless, mudblood, always left behind."
"Ha," laughed Riddle-Ginny, wrapping her arms Riddle-Harry. "Always running
after you like some well behaved dog." She swayed and cackled before
Hermione who looked horrified yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly
at her side.
"You could never be like me, too ugly, too plain." Harry saw tears leak out
of Hermione's eyes.
"Hermione, stab it, STAB IT," he yelled, but Hermione did not move; her eyes
were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Ginny were reflected in them,
their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted
in a evil duet.
"Useful to a point, annoying most of the time," sneered Riddle-Harry, while
Riddle-Ginny jeered.
"Doesn't even like Quidditch, prefers books. Which man would take you? Not
Harry! You are nothing to him, nothing to him, useless unwanted, unloved,"
crooned Riddle-Ginny.
She stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: their lips met.
On the ground in front of them, Hermione's face filled with anguish; she raised
the sword high, her arms shaking.
"Do it, Hermione!" Harry yelled. Hermione looked towards him and Harry
thought he saw a trace if scarlet in his eyes.
"Hermione-?"
The sword flashed, plunged; Harry threw himself out of the way, there was a
clung of metal and a long drawn out scream. Harry whirled round, slipping on
the snow, wand held ready to defend himself, but there was nothing to fight.
The monstrous versions of himself and Ginny were gone; there was only
Hermione huddled on the ground, looking down at the shattered remains of the
locket on the flat rock.
"Harry…" she whimpered before fainting into the snow
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