Firenze leaned in closer. "You have already done battle against those that know you as a hero?" Heri eyeballed him. "Well, yes. Though I don't know why everyone keeps calling me that." "We have less time than anticipated," Firenze declared, not answering Heri's question. He bent his forelegs and motioned for Heri to climb up. "Do not tarry, the sooner we begin, the better." "Will you be telling me what's going on?" "All questions will be answered, Heri Potter. There is much to be told." With a sixty-feet basilisk in front of her and the professors (who were supposed to be the ones dealing with the beast) blocked from the hall by the pile of rubble, Heri couldn't help but wonder if it was her lot in life to be some sort of story-book protagonist. With a bird and a talking hat as the only back-up available, she certainly dealt with enough shit for the position. Fawkes was soaring around the basilisk's head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabres — Fawkes dove. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing Heri, and before Heri could shut her eyes, it turned — Heri looked straight into its face and saw that its eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony. §NO!§ Heri heard the wraith of the juvenile Voldemort — Tom Marvolo Riddle — scream. §LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE GIRL IS BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL HER! KILL HER!§ The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes. The snake's tail whipped across the floor again and Heri leapt away. Making her jump, something soft hit her face. The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Heri's arms. The hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly. A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs. Well, that was lucky. §KILL THE GIRL! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE GIRL IS BEHIND YOU!§ Heri was on her feet, ready. The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face her. She could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow her whole, lined with fangs long as her sword, thin, glittering, venomous — It lunged blindly — Heri dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Heri's side. She raised the sword in both her hands — The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true — Heri threw her whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth — But as warm blood drenched Heri's arms, she felt a searing pain just above her elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into her arm. It was of the same proportions of a buffalo's horn. She watched detachedly as the tip punctured through to the other side of her arm. It splintered off from the creature's jaw as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor. Heri slid down the wall. She gripped the fang that was spreading poison through her body and wrenched it out of her arm. But she knew it was too late. White hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as she dropped the fang and watched her own blood soak her robes, her vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull colour. A patch of scarlet swam past, and Heri heard a soft clatter of claws beside her. Fa-awkes," said Heri thickly to the Headmaster's bird. "You were fantastic. Sorry I . . . I couldn't . . . Th-thanks for . . . everything . . ." She felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced her. She could hear echoing footsteps. A dark shadow moved in front of her. "You're dead, Potter," said Riddle's voice above her. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing? He's crying." Heri blinked. Fawkes' head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers. Heri felt drowsy. Everything around her seemed to be spinning. "So ends the famous Heri Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by her friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord she so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear mudblood mother soon, Potter . . . She bought you twelve years of borrowed time . . . but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must . . ." If this was dying, thought Heri, it wasn't so bad. Even the pain was leaving her . . . But was this dying? Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. Heri gave her head a little shake and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on her arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound — except that there was no wound — "Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from her — I said, get away —" Heri raised her head. Riddle was pointing Heri's wand at Fawkes. There was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet. "Phoenix tears . . ." said Riddle quietly, staring at Heri's arm. "Of course . . . healing powers . . . I had forgotten . . ."
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