Harry’s knees had locked beneath him. He felt frozen in place, an obnoxious buzzing filling his ears. As he looked around the room, he saw the Gryffindors comforting each other, the girls crying, the boys looking horrorstruck. Hermione had collapsed into Ron’s arms and he could see that she was wailing, but all he could hear was the buzzing. He backed himself into the nearest wall and felt his body slide to the floor. He closed his eyes.
Please not Hagrid.
“Harry,” Ron was saying.
He opened his eyes and looked up. Ron’s face was red and blotchy, his shirt soaked with his own tears and those of Hermione, who was cowering in the fetal position upon the floor.
“Harry, help me with Hermione.”
Together, the boys lifted her limp body and, since they were unable to enter the girls’ dormitory, hauled her up to their own and laid her in Ron’s bed. She had yet to open her eyes once, but she pulled the covers over her head and continued to weep loudly.
Ron sat down at the end of the bed and Harry took a seat on his own. They stared blankly at each other for a few seconds. Then Harry, too, curled up feebly, not bothering to draw the hangings or to change out of his dirty clothes. At that moment, he counted himself very fortunate to not have slept at all the night before, because he avoided his pain by dozing off almost immediately.
He had a horrible dream that Death Eaters, riding monstrous dragons, were storming the castle, blowing fire through the windows. His four-poster bed was burning. Hagrid was there, and his beard was on fire. He was trying to get Harry out of the room, but Harry was looking for the Professor’s Pass. He kept telling Hagrid that he couldn’t leave without it, until finally, he looked up, and Hagrid wasn’t in the room with him anymore. Ron’s bed was in flames now too. Then Harry turned to exit the dormitory, but the door was blocked, though he couldn’t see the person’s face.
He awoke abruptly, soaking in sweat.
It was early morning. Ron was lying face down on the floor, snoring loudly. Hermione was still in his bed, her wavy hair matted to her tear-stained face, her fists beneath her chin, clutching the sheet.
Both Neville and Dean must have gone down already, because their beds were empty.
Harry sat up. His head was aching.
The Death Eaters had come for him. And Hagrid had paid the price. How many more people would he get killed? He stared at his best friends for a long while, knowing that he could lose either or both of them at any time.
Eventually, Ron stirred upon the floor. He stretched, and then groaned, “My back!”
Noticing Harry watching him, he said hesitantly, “Morning?”
“Morning,” replied Harry dully.
“My-on-ee,” Ron said softly, still half-asleep, as he prodded Hermione gently.
“I’m staying here forever!” she moaned wretchedly, pulling the sheet over her face.
“Let’s go down and have something to eat,” Ron encouraged her. “It’ll help.”
Hermione peered out and hissed, “Nothing will help and you know it!”
Ron sank to the floor miserably and then looked at Harry, who shrugged.
“Do you mind if we go down?” Harry asked Hermione.
“Do what you want,” she mumbled.
Ron got to his feet and bent down to kiss the small bit of Hermione’s head that remained uncovered.
Unexpectedly throwing the sheet from her body, Hermione growled, “Fine, I’ll go!”
Ron shook his head uncertainly, but Hermione was already stomping from the dormitory. The two boys followed her down to the Great Hall.
The whole room was solemn, silent, weighted. The three of them sat down quietly at the Gryffindor table.
Dean Thomas whispered to them, “Lotta parents came and took kids home in the middle of the night. Place is nearly empty.”
Harry looked around. Dean was right. There had never been so few students at Hogwarts, except during the Christmas holidays.
Serving trays heaping with food appeared a few moments later. Scrambled eggs, sausages, and other breakfast items met Harry’s eyes, but he couldn’t make himself take any of them. He almost felt as if he didn’t deserve to eat.
Ron was poking a piece of toast absentmindedly and Hermione was staring, stone-faced, into her empty plate.
The silence in the room was broken by the scooting sound of a chair being pushed back. Professor McGonagall was standing before the room, clearing her throat. She looked exhausted and harassed.
“After last night’s tragic events, I have come to the conclusion that we must close the doors of Hogwarts, if only temporarily.”
A wave of gasps cycled through the room.
“This afternoon, we will have a ceremony for Professors Sprout and Hagrid, for those of you who wish to attend. Following this, you will all be sent home. Letters have been delivered to your guardians, explaining the situation, and you will be invited to return to Hogwarts if and when the school is reopened.”
At this moment, the rushing sound of wings flooded the air as the morning post arrived, just as it did every morning, even though this morning was quite different from all other mornings.
“I will let you return to your meals,” McGonagall finished, seating herself again.
The sight of Hedwig gave Harry a small bit of comfort. She landed before him, nibbling his arm affectionately as he untied the heavy envelope.
When he opened it, something fell with a thud onto the table. It was the Professor’s Pass! Harry pocked it quickly, looking around to assure that no one had seen it. Not even Ron and Hermione had been paying attention. They were still gazing dejectedly, their eyes unfocused. Harry unfolded the enclosed note.
“Harry,
Minerva told us what happened. I’m SO sorry about Hagrid! I understand that you were close to him. Please give Ron and Hermione my sympathies, as well. And if there’s anything that I can do for any of you, please let me know. Really. Anything.
I don’t know exactly what went on there, but I hope that you aren’t blaming yourself for this. Terrible things happen, albeit strangely often, but they are not your fault, Harry. You are far too good a person to be responsible, in any way, for bad occurrences, trust me.
The Pass was returned to me, but I’m sending it back to you, even if I’ve been practically commanded not to by a stern woman that we all know so well... You’ll have to explain to me how you lost track of it.
Somehow, it’s dreary here without your presence. And I’m pretty bored, to tell you the truth, so I hope you’ll return soon. But even though the school is supposedly closing for the time being, I have a feeling that I won’t be seeing you for a while, so please take care of yourself.
And I want you to know that I hate the way that we left things.
-Luci”
The paper was scattered with dark spots where it seemed that she has crossed out her work and begun again. Perhaps she hadn’t known what to say to him about Hagrid. Harry read the letter multiple times before folding it and putting it back into its envelope. As much as he hated himself for it, he missed her. She drove him crazy with her secrets. And he was supposed to be pining for Ginny. But he missed her. It angered him that she presumed to know him so well, but she was right; he was blaming himself, because he was to blame. He sighed aloud at these thoughts.
“Who’s it from?” asked Ron dismally, as if it could be from the Queen herself and it wouldn’t matter a bit.
“Luci,” Harry answered.
“Did she hear?” Hermione looked worse than Ron, her eyes swollen and somber.
Harry nodded. “Says she’s sorry… for all of us…”
“Nice of ’er,” Ron said softly.
“And she sent back the Pass.”
“Who cares?” said Ron. “We’re all going home anyway.”
“I’m not,” replied Harry.
“What?” Hermione asked, her eyes darting up to his.
“I can’t,” said Harry. “I have to go into the Chamber again. I can’t just overlook a place that may very well be housing a piece of Voldemort’s soul.”
“Shh!” hissed Hermione.
He looked around. No one seemed to be able to see beyond his or her own little world, so Harry was unconcerned about being overheard.
“If you’re staying, so are we,” Ron said in monotone, looking to Hermione for approval.
“Fine,” she said.
At that moment, all three of them looked up to see Ginny seating herself down the table from them. She kept her head down, with her lovely red hair falling over her face, but Harry imagined that, beneath the curtain, her eyes were as puffy as Hermione’s.
His first thought was to go over and comfort her, but as he started to get to his feet, he saw an arm being draped around her shoulders “ Neville’s arm!
The funeral for Hagrid and Professor Sprout would be starting any minute. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were racing towards the Owlery in the West tower, so that they could watch the proceedings. They had managed to make their way out of the group, knowing that everyone would be sent home after the service. They needed to remain unseen so that they could stay at the castle. Ron had told Ginny that they didn’t intend to leave and she had protested half-heartedly but hadn’t seemed to have the energy to try to stop them.
Hermione was leaning into Ron, who had an arm around her, as she wept quietly. Harry wondered if she might run out of tears soon, and then questioned why he, himself, had yet to cry at all. Was it because he was too angry with himself? Or because he felt that he had no right, since he was the reason that Hagrid was dead? Luci didn’t know what she was talking about “ disaster followed him everywhere he went.
The two of them, standing there together “ it made Harry feel very left out. There was no one to comfort him, to hold him, to keep him warm, and he felt empty and alone. Were he not such an idiot, he might have Ginny standing here beside him now. But if that was what he wanted, then why was he imagining Luci’s sugary scent?
Stop thinking about her, he scolded himself. He had to get Luci out of his head, for the same reason that he’d broken up with Ginny - he was dangerous to anyone he cared about, or anyone who cared about him. What better proof was there of this than the goings on below the Owlery window?
Below, he could see people gathering around the black tombs that held Hagrid and Professor Sprout. It all felt so final. Yet, there was a part of him that didn’t believe that Hagrid was gone. It was the same part of him that just knew, knew, that his parents and Sirius and Dumbledore were all still alive. It was hope. But Harry knew that hope was hopeless.
“How d’ya think they…” Ron began. Clearing his throat, he continued, “How did they kill Hagrid? He seemed so… indestructible… didn’t he?”
Hermione, half-choking on tears, responded, “Hagrid might be… might have been… larger… than normal, but I think a killing curse works the same on him as it does on anybody else.”
Harry sighed aloud. Someone was speaking below the window, but the words were being carried away by the wind. They looked down to see that it was Professor McGonagall.
“There’s Madam Maxime,” said Harry, pointing. The giantess was wiping her eyes with an enormous handkerchief as she sat in the front of the crowd.
“That poor woman,” Hermione sniffled.
Harry noticed Ginny sitting a few rows back. He could barely see her from this height, but she seemed to have her face in her hands. Once again, the urge to comfort her struck him, but Harry saw that Neville was there, continuing to move in on his territory. Harry gritted his teeth.
He strained his ears to hear anything that might be being said, but it was in vain, so he just watched bleakly, feeling heavy, yet strangely empty at the same time.
McGonagall spoke for a long while, and then various people stood addressing the group, including Mad-Eye Moody, Professor Flitwick, Madam Maxime, and Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minister of Magic. Grawp sat awkwardly in the back of the crowd and made random pitiful noises that Harry could hear very well from all the way up here. At one point, Lupin got to his feet, and it looked as if he might speak, but he quickly sat back down again next to Tonks instead. Quite a few members of the Order were there, in fact. Harry was just wishing that Luci had come too when an owl hooted loudly above his head, shaking him from his thoughts.
“We should probably go,” said Hermione. “We can’t hear anything anyway.”
Her face was blanched and Harry knew that the real reason that she wanted to leave was because she was tired of crying and needed something to take her mind off of Hagrid.
That weighty emptiness still plaguing him, Harry silently followed Ron and Hermione from the Owlery.
Once in Myrtle’s bathroom, they resolutely made their way to the sink that they knew housed the Chamber of Secrets. Without wasting any time, Harry identified the tiny snake scratched on the side of the copper tap and hissed, “Open.”
The tap glowed with brilliant white light and began to spin as the sink slowly descended out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” came Myrtle’s ethereal voice.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to her, but none of them answered.
“People die when that thing opens,” she said in a scolding tone. “Believe me, I know!”
“I killed the Basilisk years ago,” Harry told her. “It’ll be fine.”
Myrtle crossed her arms huffily, snorting, “No good can come of this!” Then she dove headfirst through a wall.
Harry shook his head at Ron and Hermione, who both remained silent, and Harry thought that maybe they agreed with Myrtle. He turned his back to them and slid himself into the shadowy tunnel before they could protest.
He was immediately rushing down the dark, slippery slide of the pipeline, other channels branching out on either side of him as he went. Soon, he felt it leveling out, and he shot from the end of the tube, onto the damp floor. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He stood and was attempting to catch his breath when he heard Hermione screaming, the sounds growing closer and closer. Then, she landed at his feet, followed shortly by Ron.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Ron said to Hermione, who scoffed.
“That,” said Hermione, “was horrifying.”
“Follow me,” Harry said to both of them, and they began to make their way towards the Chamber, their footsteps slapping on the wet floor as they walked. Shed snakeskin and small animal bones remained littered on the floor from the days that the Basilisk had occupied the tunnels. The crunching beneath their feet prompted intermittent sounds of disgust from Hermione.
At last, they reached a solid wall with two carved serpents entwined together, their emerald eyes seeming strangely alive. Harry’s heart flip-flopped as he was reminded of standing in this same place, only five years ago.
“Open,” he said again, in Parseltongue, and the serpents parted, the wall cracking open. The halves slid out of sight, much like they did behind the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were greeted by a dimly lit chamber, glowing gloomy green, and full of towering stone pillars, each engraved with serpents.
“This way,” said Harry, and they continued past the pairs of pillars, the ceiling above them hidden in darkness, the eerie green glow all around them.
Finally, they reached the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin in his long robes. It stood against a back wall, its giant monkey-like face staring blankly ahead.
Ron and Hermione gasped simultaneously.
“That thing gives me the willies,” whispered Ron.
“I feel cold,” said Hermione.
Harry didn’t respond. He was trying to remember what Riddle had said to the statue in order to open it. He knew that, if there was a Horcrux in the Chamber, it would most likely be hidden in the mouth of Slytherin, where the Basilisk had once resided.
When he’d been standing there for awhile, Ron asked quietly, “Harry?”
“I’m thinking,” Harry replied.
The three of them remained there in silence for many minutes longer, until, at last, Harry remembered the correct phrasing of the password.
“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four,” said Harry, a chill running down his spine as he remembered Tom Riddle’s command. If Ron and Hermione had been able to understand him, Harry imagined they’d have been just as unsettled by the words.
The stone mouth opened slowly, the long beard lowering as it went, the sound of stone against stone echoing throughout the Chamber. A huge, black hole was revealed, and Harry heard Ron and Hermione stepping backwards in fright.
“I’m going in,” he said to them.
“Harry, no!” cried Hermione. Then, more calmly, she said, “We don’t know what’s in there.”
“We’re about to find out.”
Harry took out his wand, said, “Lumos,” and started to climb into the stone mouth. It was like being in another tunnel, though he was unable to stand, and he wondered how the Basilisk had slithered through such a narrow space.
Ron and Hermione were crawling along behind him and he smiled to himself. He’d known that he could count on them to follow him anywhere, even if it was to their deaths. This last thought wiped the smile instantly from his face, and he locked his jaw and carried on.
“It smells bloody awful in here,” said Ron, who was right behind him.
“What do you expect?” came Hermione’s voice from further back. “A big, nasty snake lived in here for who knows how long! It’s revolting!”
Eventually, the passageway ended, dropping Harry into a large, rectangular space. He reached his hand out to Ron, pulling him into the room, and then Ron assisted Hermione.
“What is this place?” asked Ron.
“Dunno,” answered Harry, who was still looking around in wonder.
The floor was covered with animal bones, the walls with slime, the whole space with an unnatural green glow. But this area was different than the rest of the Chamber. Along the walls, there hung moving pictures, documents, trophies. Harry began to make his way around the room, studying each of the items.
First, there was a photograph of the four founders of Hogwarts. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff sat in chairs, and Gryffindor and Slytherin stood behind them, their arms around each other.
Next, there was a framed certificate stating the official approval of the school to be opened for academics.
Ron and Hermione were following him, also examining each of the hangings.
There were mostly souvenirs of the school’s origin, records of its accomplishments, and other mementos. Slytherin had obviously been very proud of Hogwarts. But the last article was a photograph of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin standing alone. Gryffindor was shaking Slytherin’s hand and giving him a small item. Harry squinted at the photo.
“The ring!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Ron and Hermione said together.
“It wasn’t Slytherin’s!”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione.
“Gaunt’s ring,” said Harry again. “Gryffindor gave it to Slytherin!”
He pointed to the photo and Ron and Hermione peered over each of his shoulders.
“Are you sure that’s the same ring?” asked Ron.
“Of course, I’m sure! There was a lion on it!”
Hermione narrowed her eyes, leaning into the photo.
“The Peverell Crest,” she said.
“It’s on Gryffindor’s sword too,” said Harry. “So the ring wasn’t a relic of Slytherin! It was a relic of Gryffindor! So we have all of the houses “ we just have to find that damned cup!”
Ron and Hermione were both looking at him attentively.
“And it’s not here,” Harry sighed. “Sorry for dragging you two down here.”
“Well, it wasn’t entirely fruitless,” smiled Hermione. “Just creepy.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that too.”
“No need to stay in the creepiness any longer,” encouraged Ron.
“Agreed,” said Harry, and he lifted himself back into the tunnel.
Ron and Hermione behind him, he started for the light at the mouth’s opening.
Was it growing smaller? He frowned.
“The mouth is closing!” he called to his friends. “Hurry!”
He began crawling faster, and he heard Ron and Hermione scuffling along behind him.
Then Hermione screamed.
“What is it?” shouted Harry.
“Her hair!” Ron shouted back.
Harry didn’t know why they were yelling in the first place. It must have been the exigency, because it was very quiet in here.
“What?” said Harry.
“It’s caught!” whimpered Hermione.
“Caught in what?”
“I don’t know!” she cried.
“Harry, help me!” said Ron.
Harry looked towards the mouth. It was closing slowly, but it was definitely closing.
He carefully turned himself around and came face to face with Ron’s backside. He scowled.
“It’s too narrow,” said Harry. “I can’t reach to help!”
“Go back!” said Ron. His voice was panicked. “When it closes, just use the password and open it again.”
“I have a feeling that won’t work, Ronald,” replied Hermione.
“Cut it,” said Harry.
“Absolutely not!” protested Hermione.
“Cut it, or get stuck in here,” Harry repeated.
Hermione made a muffled sound.
Ron reached into his pocket for his wand. “Diffindo,” he said, and Harry heard a snipping, much like scissors.
“Noooo,” moaned Hermione.
“Let’s go!” said Harry.
He backed quickly from the tunnel, watching Ron following backwards. His feet reached cooler air and he lowered himself to the floor. There was only a yard or so remaining before the cavity was closed. He could see Ron’s shoes emerging.
“Hurry,” he said urgently.
“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”
Ron was out, and the opening was almost entirely blocked. He grabbed Hermione’s hands and yanked her as hard as he could, and she toppled to the floor. He helped her up just as the mouth was slamming shut.
Harry almost laughed aloud at Hermione’s hair, which was now long and bushy on one side and short and frizzy on the other. He turned away from her so that she wouldn’t notice his smile, but she said, “It’s not funny,” and started for the door.
“We’ll fix it!” Ron called after her, but he grinned at Harry, who returned the smile, and then they pursued Hermione back through the Chamber.
She huffed irritably the whole way, so Harry and Ron stayed a few feet behind her. The back of her head, however, was just as amusing as the front, and they had to stifle their sniggers.
They were soon back at the large pipe that led up to Myrtle’s sink. At this point, Harry realized that they had no way to get back up it. Last time, Fawkes had been there to fly all of them out.
“Anyone have a broomstick?” he asked satirically.
Hermione glanced sideways at him. “You mean to tell me that we can’t get out of here?”
“Well, we can, if one of you has a broomstick, or if you’d like to climb up,” replied Harry.
Hermione sighed exasperatedly, flicking her wand, and then crawled into the large pipe and disappeared.
Ron poked his head in too. “A ladder!” he called to Harry.
“Smart girl, that Hermione,” muttered Harry, embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of it first.
He followed Ron up the tunnel, pulling himself along the ladder, until he was back in Myrtle’s cold bathroom, where the sound of laughter greeted him.
Moaning Myrtle was pointing at Hermione’s ridiculous lopsided hair, turning somersaults in the air as she giggled uncontrollably.
Ignoring her entirely, Hermione asked, “What would you two do without me?”
“I don’t know about Harry,” said Ron, ignoring Myrtle too, “but I’d be miserable.”
Hermione grinned warmly at Ron, and Harry said, “Enough of that. Let’s go home.”
Back in the common room, they realized that Ron and Hermione’s trunks had been sent ahead of them, so they gathered beneath the Invisibility Cloak and made their way out of the castle. It was dusk by now, and the skyline was a lovely orangey-red. The Pass seemed to count them all as one person, as long as Ron and Hermione were touching Harry, who still wore it around his neck.
Once outside the gates, Ron said, “Mum will kill us for not coming back with everyone else.”
“Better brace yourself then,” suggested Harry.
Then, the three of them Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.