Chapter 36: 4-3

Running through the corridors, we were draped under the Invisibility Cloak. First task: capturing the coward.

“—Professor Lockhart? May I come in?”

Clatter, rustle. The sounds of objects being haphazardly moved leaked through the door. When I knocked, I was met with a silence so sudden it felt as if someone had stopped breathing.

“Professor Lockhart? It’s Maria Potter.”

“...Ah, yes, Miss Potter. What is it? I’m—I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Professor McGonagall sent me to deliver something to you.”

Beside me, Harry shot me a dubious look. Look, it’s a necessary lie, so just forgive me.

“I—I see... very well then.”

The door creaked open just wide enough for a face to peek out. The moment that twitching, "faux-handsome" face appeared, I buried my fist in it. As he reeled, I brought my hand down hard against his wand arm. I caught his wand in mid-air as it slipped from his grip and pointed it straight at him.

“Stupefy!”

“Agh—!”

Lockhart collapsed, losing consciousness after letting out a rather... suggestive shriek. Looking back, even including my time as Harry, I think that was the cleanest hit I’ve ever landed.

“Whoa...”

“Brachiabindo... no, let’s go with something simpler. Incarcerous.”

I ignored Harry’s horrified expression.

Entering the room, I kicked aside a trunk that was—as expected—half-packed for a flight. I grabbed a quill (one of those "signing-pens" Lockhart loved that were more feather than function) and scribbled a note.

“Let’s see... ‘This man is a fraud... expert in Memory Charms... attempted to desert his post... recommend the use of Veritaserum,’ and... there.”

“You’re merciless, Maria...” Harry muttered.

“He’s a criminal, Harry.”

As a former Auror, I have standards.

I slapped the note onto the face of the bound and unconscious Lockhart.

“Right, Lockhart’s dealt with. Come on, Harry. We’re going to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.”

“...Right.”

The bathroom was heavily flooded; Myrtle must have had another one of her tantrums. I placed the Invisibility Cloak on the seat of the first stall and called out to her.

“Myrtle, could you come out? I want to hear about the time you died.”

“Oh, it’s you—sniff—fine. I died right here.”

A lively—well, for a ghost—Myrtle recounted her final moments, pointing toward the area where she had seen the Basilisk’s eyes. It was that specific tap.

“Harry, tell it to open. You have to say it in Parseltongue.”

“Parseltongue...”

“Just imagine that the snake on the tap is real.”

Harry whispered, “Open.” It came out in plain English.

“Try again. Look at the snake engraving right here. Focus on it.”

“Okay...”

“Sss-heth-sssss...” (§Open§) 

To Harry, it sounded like human speech—but to Maria, it was a chilling, sibilant hiss exhaled from the throat. So that’s what it sounds like to a normal person, I thought. No wonder they find it creepy.

The tap began to spin, and the sink descended into the floor, revealing a massive pipe. A dark, gaping maw. It looked ominous no matter how many times I saw it.

“...Hey, Maria.”

Harry’s quiet voice stopped me just as I was about to hook my leg over the edge of the opening.

“Shouldn’t we have told Draco? I mean, you two are always together... he’s going to be worried.”

“Oh, that—I left him a note.”

Well, on our Communication Parchment, anyway. I didn't know when Draco would see it, but he’d surely follow as soon as he noticed. The entrance should stay open for a while.

Come to think of it, it was a biting irony that our Communication Parchment was modeled after Riddle’s Diary, the very thing causing this catastrophe. Now that we knew Harry wasn't the culprit, I still couldn't figure out how the missing student had opened the Chamber without the diary, or why—

“...Maria?”

Click. The lines connected with terrifying speed.

Was it possible to open the door without the diary? No. It was impossible. The diary was definitely being used. So, who did the diary go to?

The answer was: it hadn't gone to anyone.

The diary hadn't moved. It had been there—right there—the whole time!

“...Oh... no...”

That’s right. We had checked it. Over and over again—he and I had checked it together!

Last time, Ginny showed symptoms when the flu was going around. But Ginny’s poor health was different—and this time, Ginny was ill, but... so was he.

What had his complexion been like lately? When we reunited last year, he looked healthy. But this year? He had returned to that sickly pallor, looking like a vampire again.

I should have questioned it more. I should have noticed his dropping body temperature—!

“...Harry, let’s go.”

“Maria...?”

I slid down the pipe. Alarm bells were screaming in my head. Harry lit the way with Lumos, and we trudged through the muck of the tunnel. We passed the giant snakeskin and reached the wall carved with two interlaced serpents.

Harry whispered, "§Open§"

“Maria... hey, you look terrible. Your face is pale.”

“I can’t stop now, Harry.”

I forced my feet forward. My throat felt tight.

I had said it myself, so many times. “The person isn't aware they're doing it.” Of course they weren't. Because they were being possessed.

No memory. No realization that they were writing in it.

We walked between the towering pillars. My fingertips were ice cold; I couldn't feel them. Harry reached out and gently took my hand.

The diary hadn't gone anywhere.

The diary had been placed under a heavy seal. It wasn't something a stranger could just break.

A child lay sleeping like the dead at the base of the giant statue.

In that case... there was only one person it could be.

He was sleeping there, clutched tightly to the diary.

“...Draco.”