The three of them started the day by grabbing some pastries and a coffee each. Harry, in a show of courage, decided to get the nation's mainstream drink.
"Tell you what," he said and stopped to take a sip. "This thing's not so bad. Why don't we have Freddo Espresso in England?"
Fleur muttered something about being uncultured and having no taste.
"Is it really? Allow your godfather to take a try," Sirius said and made to take the drink from his hands.
"You can get your own," Harry said with a smile as he dodged skillfully.
"Ungrateful little twat."
"What was that?"
"You aren't getting a Christmas present this year, that's all," Sirius said, looking up, and took a sip from his English breakfast tea.
Harry shrugged, knowing that not showing care would bug his godfather.
"Alright."
Sirius took a big sip, burning his mouth. "Fucking hell."
He looked at Harry as if his life's woes were his fault.
Harry shook his head and burst out laughing.
The first day of their search was uneventful, if one forgot about the rigged chest incident. Sirius opened a chest in one of the tombs he went through, and almost fell to his death. Thankfully, he managed to cast the slowing charm on himself before he connected—permanently—with the ground.
The three of them found lots of interesting old relics, but nothing that had to do with horcruxes.
The second day came, and they were finally gifted with answers…
"Expecto Patronum," Harry cast and and a blinding silver stag burst forth.
"I think I found something," he whispered to the shimmering creature and watched as it galloped through the wall, heading towards Fleur.
He repeated the process and sent the second Patronus to his godfather.
After a couple of minutes, the team was reunited.
"Whoa. This person must have been important," Fleur said, pointing at the tomb's ginormous door.
The doorway was framed by runes that writhed like snakes when touched by their wands' light.
"I think that's ancient Greek," Fleur muttered as she moved closer to the door.
"Ἕρπων ὁ μιαρός," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Herpo the Foul."
Sirius let out a gasp, and the couple turned to look at him. "Bloody hell! That's an Ancient Greek Dark wizard, infamous for his works in the field of the Dark Arts. Many even call him a pioneer of the subject. He's the one who created the first Basilisk, and a rudimentary form of soul phylactery, which he then perfected. He created the first Horcrux."
Fleur put a hand in front of her mouth, while Harry stared at the door.
"Ah, that explains it then… There's a basilisk inside the room," he said and pointed at the door.
Fleur let out a mirthless laugh. "Thank Morgana that we are not going in there then, right?"
Neither man responded.
Harry shook his head. "We can't let this chance pass if this is really Herpo's grave. If there's anything on Horcruxes out there, any research on them, the most thorough will be right here, resting with its maker."
Fleur made to protest, but Sirius cut her off.
"No, Harry is right. If you think about it, this is actually a godsend. We just have to deal with the basilisk."
"Right," Harry said, and looking at the dubious expression on Fleur's face, he added: "Come on, I've faced worse."
"Yes, but," she said, tears were forming in her eyes. "I know what you want to do. You'll say that you are the only one of us who can fight it without looking at it because you can sense it, and so you'll have to go alone."
Harry went to hug her, but Fleur held him off. "Say it!"
"Will it help to add that I can probably look at it without dying? I won't have to just sense it…" he said sheepishly.
If glares could kill, Harry would have dropped dead.
"Harry James Potter!"
After almost a whole hour of Harry and Sirius doing their best to reassure Fleur that nothing would go wrong, and if Harry would be in danger, he'd flash out of the room, he was ready to go in.
"But why not let Fawkes gouge out its eyes, like last time?"
"Because I don't want to test his immortality… What if the Basilisk manages to bite him? A whole fang, coated in its venom, inside Fawkes."
That had brought a decisive end to that argument.
"Are you sure we shouldn't come with you?"
"Yes."
Harry would go inside the chamber and try to talk with the Basilisk. If it tried to attack him, he would use one of the most destructive magicks that he could. They decided on Fiendfyre. Also, at no time would he test if he could actually look at its eyes, Fleur insisted. That was the finalised plan they all agreed with, albeit, some with great reluctance. Harry wanted to transform into a dragon and spit fire on the thing…
"And don't look—"
"Yes, Fleur, I know. I won't open my eyes at all. Pinky promise," Harry said and walked so close to the door that his nose was almost touching the cold stone; Merlin forbid, anyone used a door made of wood.
He made an image of the room inside his mind and allowed the phoenix fire to transport him inside the tomb.
As soon as he got inside the room, he felt the Basilisk's presence stir.
"Who issss it," it hissed, its voice reverberating through the air like the scrape of stone on stone.
The Basilisk hissed so slowly that Harry guessed it must have been sleeping for a very long time.
"My name isss Harry Potter," he said evenly, and tried to think of a good lie. "I'm a kin of your master, and I come searching for answers."
"A hatchling that speaksss my tongue… yet your ssscent—" It inhaled sharply, and the hiss turned into something deeper. "—you bear the mark of a killer of my kind."
Harry clenched his jaw. Just how could it know that?
"I killed a basilisk once," he admitted reluctantly. "But it wasn't by choice. It was controlled by someone else, and it attacked me first. I was only trying to survive."
A deep rumble, low and bitter, rolled through the chamber. "Liesssssss."
The basilisk finally moved into light from the far end of the chamber—slowly, ponderously—circling him.
Harry could feel gusts of wind forming from its mere slithering.
'Why does it always come to this?' he wondered bitterly.
He felt the serpent's length and briefly entertained the idea of taking a retreat and coming back as a dragon.
Even though he couldn't see it, he knew that the Basilisk was huge, almost twice the size of the one in Hogwarts.
'Damnation. Just how old is it?' he wondered.
"You leave me no choice, youngling. You must undersstand why I have to do thissss. Yessss, fresh meat at lassst," it said.
Harry wanted to question whether he was going to be eaten because of his past or because the Basilisk was hungry, but refrained from doing so. If the snake chose violence, who was he to deny it?
He was angry, though, and when the Basilisk finally lunged, he had just one word for it.
"Fiendfyre."
From the tip of Harry's wand burst a torrent of demonic flame, molten and ravenous. It coiled outward like a beast unleashed, its roar echoing through the chamber until the air itself shuddered and a shape began to form—a dragon.
The basilisk's hiss became a thunderous shriek.
The creature twisted away from the torrent, its scales hissing and cracking as the cursed flame licked at them.
The heat alone would have turned a lesser being to ash, but this serpent was ancient—its hide was layered with centuries of hardened magic. However, it had also gone for an untold number of years without food or exercise. It had grown feeble.
Harry didn't even think of stopping.
His wand arm trembled as the flames writhed and fought his will, eager to break out of his control and devour everything, including him.
The basilisk reared up, its scales glowing red-hot. "You ssseek death, boy," it hissed, its voice thick with fury and pain. "Then you ssshall have it!"
"Been there, done that," Harry muttered.
However, despite its words, the serpent's attack was pathetic.
It tried to lunge at him, but the fire kept it at bay.
After that, it was almost sad.
Harry had the dragon engulf the thing and breathe fire on its head.
It didn't take long for Fiendfyre to leave a burnt, and mostly headless corpse, in its wake.
Harry concentrated and, with effort, sent the flames back to where they came from.
'Fucking hell.'
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Chapter 131: It's Finally Over