From the Ashes

You’re dead, Harry Potter,” said Riddle’s voice above him. “Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Do you see what he’s doing Potter? He’s crying.”

Harry blinked in an attempt to refocus his eyes and looked towards his wounded arm where Fawkes perched. Sure enough, thick, pearlescent tears were trickling down his glossy feathers.

He heard Riddle’s footsteps echo away from him, before there was an odd sound, a dull thump.

“You’re dead,” Riddle repeated, this time with an almost giddy undertone. “Just like the girl.”

Harry’s eyes flew open in shock; he angled his head to where Ginny lay and felt the bile rise up in his throat.

She was no longer laying facedown; Riddle had turned her over with a kick. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling and her skin was alabaster white.

Harry knew immediately that she was dead.

“No,” he breathed in horror.

“But yes!” Riddle hissed back gleefully. “With this pathetic girl’s death, I am reborn, whole and corporeal!”

He turned away from Harry and punctuated the statement with another sharp kick to Ginny’s side. A loud crack sounded through the Chamber as her ribs broke.

“Stop it!” Harry yelled. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

Riddle spun around to face him, a dismissal on his tongue, when he paused and stared at Harry.

He was staring at his arm, the arm pierced by the Basilisk’s fang.

Harry followed his gaze and saw Fawkes resting his head against the gaping wound the fang had inflicted, the wound which was closing even as he watched.

“Of course,” Riddle murmured, his eyes locked on Fawkes. “I had forgotten…. but no matter”

Harry raised his head and saw Riddle stride towards him, his wand raised.

Fawkes instantly disappeared in a flash of gold and crimson fire, his departure was immediately followed by a lance of incandescent sapphire light that rocketed inches past Harry’s face and tore through the wall behind him.

Riddle gave a wordless roar of fury and whirled around, frantically searching for the phoenix.

Then Harry saw Fawkes appear in another flash of fire overhead and soar towards him. Fatigue forgotten, Harry leapt to his feet and stretched his hand out towards Fawkes.

‘Get me out of here!’ he thought frantically. ‘Please get me out of here!’

An ear-splitting boom shook the Chamber, the sound alone enough to bring Harry to his knees, and his world seemed explode into a searing white light.

Blinking away the spots that lingered in his eyes, Harry heard Riddle’s laughter fill the Chamber. He turned to look for Fawkes, but found nothing except for a thick pile of ash meters away from him on the Chamber floor.

Fawkes was gone.

He felt his heart clench in terror as he turned to face Riddle who stood casually spinning Harry’s wand, a vicious grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well Harry,” he said quietly. “What are you going to do now?”

‘Nothing,’ Harry thought. What could he do? Fawkes was gone there was no one left to save him, only the Hat…..

Only the sword.

Harry ran as fast as he could towards the Basilisk, wrenched the sword out of the creature’s mouth and held it defiantly between himself and Riddle.

“That’s the sword of Gryffindor, isn’t it?” Riddle asked rhetorically, looking completely unfazed. “Under any other circumstances I’d keep such a historical relic for myself…”

He paused, before he smiled cruelly and said, “But I’m afraid the irony is just too precious.”

And then with an almost lazy flick of his wand, he transfigured the sword into a cobra.

Harry gave a panicked cry, before throwing the cobra as far as he could, just avoiding the serpent’s strike.

“Once bitten, twice shy, eh Harry?” Riddle laughed as he advanced slowly towards him. “You didn’t really think such an archaic piece of magic would stop me did you?

Those pitiless blue eyes seemed to ensnare Harry as he spoke.

Harry backed away in panic, there was nothing he could do now, absolutely nothing. But surely someone would come soon; Ron would have found help, Dumbledore or a staff member would come. They had to.

“You still have hope?” Riddle demanded, interrupting his train of thought. “There is no-one coming for you, no miracle that will save you, no mother to sacrifice for you.”

“Not this time!” He snarled, suddenly furious. “There is only you and me, and I promise you will beg for death before I leave this place.”

“Crucio!”

Harry screamed. He couldn’t help it, every nerve, every joint felt like it was on fire. He felt himself fall to floor, his body writhing with involuntary spasms. He couldn’t think, all he knew was absolute and total agony.

And then after what felt like an eternity, it stopped.

Harry lay on the floor gasping for breath, every now and then another spasm would shudder through his body. The pain was gone, but he found his body felt like dead weight, a simple movement of his head made him feel like fainting.

He felt something nudge his side painfully.

“That hurt didn’t it, Harry?” Riddle asked, his voice a mere whisper right next to his ear. Harry hadn’t even heard him come so close.

“You don’t want me to do it again do you?’

‘Oh please no,’ Harry thought desperately. ‘Anything... anything but that.’

He felt Riddle stand and move away.

“Then beg,” Riddle said softly. “Beg me to make it stop, beg me to end it, and I shall…”

Harry’s fingers felt around mindlessly, looking around for anything they he could use, anything that could help. He wouldn’t beg, he couldn’t beg. Not after what he had seen Riddle do to Ginny, he had killed her as one would kill a cockroach. Had his parents received the same treatment?

Even now, despite the after-effects of the curse, that thought ignited a spark of anger in his chest.

Riddle noticed his movements and kicked him hard, sending Harry reeling. He felt something dig into his back.

“BEG!” He shrieked, Harry could hear him pacing about manically as his hands moved to investigate what was poking him. “Beg, or I curse you again and this time I won’t stop until you mind shatters!”

His right hand closed around a curved object, with a sharp point.

He gasped.

Riddle mistook the gasp for one of terror.

“Do you have something to say?” He asked, as Harry gathered his remaining strength for one last ditch effort.

Harry rose to a kneeling position, shaking from the effects of the spell and the myriad of emotions coursing through him. His fear was exceeded only by his…

Excitement.

“Well?” Riddle asked, irritated at his silence. “Do you have anything you wish to say?!”

Harry remained silent.

Riddle strode towards him and towered over his kneeling form.

“So be it,” He hissed, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

He raised Harry’s wand.

And as he did so, Harry lunged forward.

The fang tore through Riddles robes with ease and pierced into his stomach with a sickening squelch.

Riddle looked at Harry, stunned and horrified and opened his mouth.

‘No!’ Harry thought, terrified. ‘No more spells!’

Harry ripped the fang out of his abdomen and immediately plunged it into his chest. He did it again, and again and again. He didn’t know how long he kept stabbing, he only stopped when his strength finally gave out and his arms would no longer respond to him.

And then he rested, with his hand still gripping the fang lodged in Riddle’s chest. It was only after a few minutes that the reality of the situation began to sink in.

There was blood everywhere.

Harry was covered in it, his hands, his robes, his glasses, and his face. He was literally drenched in blood. Not to mention the fact that it covered most of the Chamber floor were Harry was sitting.

He immediately lost his lunch.

Once he recovered, he couldn’t help a slightly hysterical chuckle. How would the school react if he turned up like this? “Honestly Harry! Have a shower for Merlin’s sake, walking around with all that blood is unhygienic!” No, he couldn’t help another chuckle; he imagined their reactions would be far more explosive than that. He had killed someone after all.

He had killed someone.

He immediately felt guilt surge through him, but another part of him, a stronger part of him said ‘Someone who hurt you, someone who would have killed you.’

‘Someone who already killed someone else.’

Oh God, he had forgotten about Ginny. What would the Weaslys think of him, would they blame him for her death?

A spasm from the curse brought him out of his musings. He needed to get out of here. He took his wand from Riddle’s right hand and was just about to get up when something caught his eye.

Riddle’s left hand clutched the blood-soaked diary. It was laying face up and had fallen open during the struggle.

His first instinct was to burn it to a cinder, but he saw, where once the pages had been blank, now it appeared hardly an inch of the book was not covered in a neat script.

He frowned for a moment, before placing the book in one of his robe’s pockets.

His bloodied robe’s pockets. He couldn’t go let the school see him like this and what was he going to do with Tom’s body. Ginny’s body wasn’t his fault, but Tom’s. No-one could know what he had done. But how was he going to get rid of it? One spell immediately came to mind, but would it work…

He realized he didn’t have a choice anyway, so he levelled his wand at Riddle’s corpse.

“Incendio!”

A burst of fire shot from his wand and collided with Riddle’s chest. It devoured his robes hungrily and began to spread across his body. Harry had to fight off another attack of nausea as the smell of burning fabric mixed with the scent of cooking meat.

He left the body to burn and turned his attention to the blood that covered the floor and soaked him from head to toe. With a few quick scougify’s, he managed to render both himself and the floor spotless. He closed his eyes; breathing a sigh of relief as he felt his robes dry and the blood leave his face, before he turned his gaze back towards Riddle’s body.

The fire had eaten away at his robes and had just begun to do the same to his skin, but it was not making nearly enough progress if he was going to completely destroy the body. He snarled in anger, after all this, Riddle still refused to leave him be…

He raised his wand once more and hissed the incantation again, pouring his anger and desperation into the spell.

“Incendio!”

A roaring stream of white hot flame erupted from his wand, completely engulfing Riddle’s corpse. Such was the heat generated by the spell, that Harry had to turn his face away. Despite this, he did not let up; he maintained the spell for another minute. Until he felt his body and mind might give out under the strain.

When he finally let go, there was nothing left of Riddle save for a brittle looking skeleton and a scattering of ashes.

“Just one more spell,” he murmured quietly. “One more and its finished.”

He raised his arm to deliver the final spell.