Harry felt as if something had yanked his soul straight out of his body; for a moment he went blank.
Everything around him stopped feeling real. The walls doubled and swam in his vision, the sink seemed to be bubbling strangely, and whatever anyone was saying, he couldn't hear it anymore.
"It can't be…"
He set the alchemical toad back in his palm, then laid the fang across the diary.
"Tell me how I get in!"
The diary didn't move.
"Let me try."
Ron snatched it up and tried to rip it open, but it was as if some invisible force was holding it together—no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't tear it.
That only made them more certain there was something wrong with this diary.
Panting, Ron set it down on the rim of the basin. There was an old, cracked quill lying there too.
The moment the quill touched the diary, something strange happened: the ink was sucked in, and a line of words appeared:
[Say 'open' in Parseltongue]
…
The three of them had no room left to hesitate.
Hermione bolted for the Headmaster's office, while Harry and Ron plunged into the Chamber.
The tunnel felt like a tomb—dead silent. The only sound was something unexpected: a sharp crack. Ron had just stepped on a rat's skull.
Harry lowered his wand to check the floor and saw bones scattered everywhere—little heaps of them from small animals.
He forced himself not to picture what had happened here.
The basilisk had come out, all of Sean's alchemical creatures had been petrified… then what about him…
Harry ducked his head and ran, turning corner after dark corner of the passage.
"Harry, there's something… there…"
Ron's voice came out hoarse.
They both froze, staring.
Coiled in the tunnel ahead was a massive shape, lying still.
The light from their wands slid over a huge shed snakeskin, glossy green, wickedly bright – clearly from a venomous serpent. It lay in heavy folds across the floor, empty.
Whatever had just sloughed that skin off had to be at least twenty feet long.
The sight only made the weight in their chests sink deeper.
After stumbling through the dimness for what felt like an age, they finally found themselves at the side of a long, shadowy hall.
Great stone pillars carved with entwined serpents rose around them, holding up a ceiling lost in darkness, but they saw no one.
Harry dripped ink into the diary, then held the fang to it threateningly.
"Tell me—where's Sean?"
The diary shuddered:
[At last, you took the bait. It took me a great deal of effort to nudge things this far… That fellow you're talking about really is troublesome. Even I can't do much about him in the short term.
But he was never my goal. You are, Harry Potter.]
"What do you mean? No—tell me, where is Sean?!"
Harry pressed the fang closer.
[A fang… where did you get that…? No matter. You came all the way here yourselves; you delivered yourselves to me.
As for that boy—if he's been here… heh. I'd say he's dead by now.
But before you die, Harry, I have quite a few questions to ask you.]
Ron looked like he'd been struck by lightning. He collapsed onto his backside, eyes unfocused.
He even forgot they were standing in the basilisk's lair.
Harry could hardly see straight. With a shout, he drove the fang straight into the diary.
A horrible, piercing scream tore through the hall, so shrill it felt like it would shred their eardrums. Ink gushed from the diary like a black fountain, pouring over Harry's hands and onto the floor.
Then a dark silhouette rose up in front of him.
"You brought this on yourself, you cursed thing!
Talk to me, Salazar—greatest of the four founders of Hogwarts!"
The silhouette was that of a tall, black-haired boy, twisting and writhing as he shouted, summoning something.
Far down the hall, Slytherin's giant stone face began to move. Harry and Ron watched in horror as its mouth opened, wider and wider, until it became a yawning black pit.
They both knew exactly what he was doing.
Harry raised the fang again.
"I'll be waiting—Harry Potter!"
The shadow warped and struggled, flailing its arms as terrified screams tore from its mouth…
Harry and Ron both squeezed their eyes shut.
"Run!"
Harry yelled.
Then he slammed into something.
"Harry?"
A voice he knew better than his own spoke.
Sean was standing there looking at him, right where Harry had been about to crash into a pillar.
"S–Sean… so I really did die… I'm sorry, I was too late…"
Harry turned his head and saw Ron, who had lost the power of speech altogether.
Ron… was dead too…
Ron's reaction was even more dramatic – his eyes rolled back, and he simply keeled over.
"You're not dead, Harry."
Sean had come, guided by the Marauder's Map. He'd arrived just in time to see Tom calling the basilisk and then getting stabbed half to death for his trouble.
He glanced at the diary. Ink was still dripping from it, pattering onto the floor.
The basilisk venom had burned a hole right through the center, and it was still smoking blackly.
Inside that hole was sheer darkness; the shadow clinging there was as thin as a wisp of smoke.
"Impossible… how could you ever have dealt with the basilisk…"
Tom stared at Sean, dazed.
Sean could feel that Tom was spent. In another two seconds, he'd be gone.
Sure enough, the shadow's face twisted with unwilling rage. He let out a low, furious snarl—and vanished.
With Tom's hold gone, the diary itself seemed to become ordinary again. There were even lines of ink still legible inside.
Sean's sharp eye picked out Hagrid's name. He flicked his wand, and the diary flipped itself open:
[Oaf Hagrid, clumsy, trouble-making, manages to get into some scrape or other every week—raising werewolf pups under his bed, sneaking into the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls.
Even I never expected the plan to go this smoothly. I'd thought for sure someone would realise Hagrid couldn't possibly be Slytherin's heir.]
Looks like Hagrid can finally clear his name…
Sean thought.
"Sean?"
Harry seemed only just to be catching up.
"You beat the basilisk?"
he asked, almost disbelieving.
Sean nodded once.
Only then did Harry truly relax. His eyes misted over again; the rush of relief after losing and then regaining hope left his mind ringing and light.
"Looks like you did pretty well yourselves."
A calm, wise voice spoke at the perfect moment.
Ron stirred and clawed his way up off the floor, only to find himself staring at Hermione—and Dumbledore.
For one wild heartbeat, he was sure the entire wizarding world had ended.
"Hermione—how are you dead as well?"
he croaked.
Hermione punched him in the chest, hard enough to jolt him fully back to reality.
"I'm not dead!"
"Oh—heheh—"
Dumbledore's beard shook with laughter.
Realising how ridiculous he'd just sounded, Ron flushed from collar to hairline and went utterly still, standing stiffly off to the side.