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Disclaimer: I don’t own any of this. *sigh* Unfortunately.

“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 Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling


If this is dying, Harry thought to himself, it’s not that bad…

Harry struggled to stay awake as the darkness threatened to overtake him.

Tom Riddle laughed. The foolish boy. Did he really think he stood a chance against the most powerful wizard the world had ever seen? The idiot didn’t have a chance. As he had told the fool, his Mudblood mother bought him twelve extra years, but not a year more. Lord Voldemort was destined to win eventually. It was inevitable.

He could feel the life seeping back into him as the girl grew weaker. Soon Lord Voldemort will be back, as powerful as before.

He smiled. Potter was dead. Nothing could stop him now.

It’s been more than an hour, Harry, Ron mentally yelled at his mate. Where are you?

He moved yet another rock out of the way of the gap he had made.

He could hear Professor Lockhart muttering happily to himself. Serves him right for trying to Obliviate Harry and me, the tosser.

“Where are you, Harry?” Ron muttered. “It’s been over an hour…”

Someone laughed harshly. That doesn’t sound like Harry or Ginny… Ron peered out the hole. The tunnel turned; he couldn’t see anything past the bend. Why do I get the feeling that whoever that is who laughed, I don’t want to meet them?

Someone—probably the same person who had laughed—was walking towards Ron and Lockhart. I don’t feel too good about this…

Whoever was approaching had a bigger shadow than Harry’s. At least, Ron didn’t think Harry could have that big of a shadow. This is bad. Before the person—whoever it was—could round the corner, Ron had dived behind the pile of rocks he had moved.
Please let that be Harry and Ginny. Please let me be overreacting.

Too late, he remembered Lockhart. Oh, bugger.

Tom Riddle was happy. That was the only word for it. Happy. He had successfully rid himself of his only weakness—the Potter brat—and regained full power as Lord Voldemort in one fell swoop.

Of course, I’ll have a talk with Lucius Malfoy about how carelessly he handles my belongings, he mused as he walked. But really, what harm had come of Lucius’s carelessness? Potter was dead and Lord Voldemort was back. Still, if the Potter brat hadn’t gotten himself stabbed by the Basilisk…

I will talk to Lucius Malfoy as soon as time permits. For now, I need to get out of Hogwarts before I’m discovered.

Part of the roof of the entrance had collapsed. Riddle rolled his eyes. Potter’s doing, no doubt. The gap in the rubble had most certainly been his handiwork as well. Lord Voldemort smiled thinly. Convenient. Even after death, the Potter brat helped him.

Stepping lightly over rubble, Lord Voldemort reached the entrance pipe. He was about to turn into a bat when a young, thirtyish man ambled over.

“Hello,” the man greeted him cheerfully. “Nasty place, isn’t it? Do you live here?”

Tom Riddle stared at the man incredulously for a moment before he raised the Potter boy’s wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

Ron stared at the space that had been recently occupied by what looked to be a sixteen-year-old Slytherin boy. That’s funny. I didn’t know any Slytherin git was smart enough to be an Animagus.

Though I can see one of them killing someone.

He smirked. I should’ve known Malfoy wasn’t the Heir. He’s too short and stupid.

Thinking of Malfoy made him think of the dueling club. The dueling club reminded him of Harry. Where is he?

Ron looked at the pipe, then at the gap in the rubble he had made. Making a decision, he looked up at the pipe once more before climbing over the stones and through the gap.

You know, you’d think that if you were going to make a secret Chamber that only a Parselmouth can get into—not to mention the fact that you put the entrance in the girl’s bathroom—you just might be able to make it fairly easy to get to from there instead of miles of bloody tunnel, Ron grumbled in his head. The tunnel had turned so many times, he wasn’t sure where he was—as far as he could tell, he could have been heading straight to Moaning Myrtle’s U-bend. Then again, this was made by Salazar Slytherin. And everyone knows how mental he was.

Finally, after what seemed like miles of tunnel and hours of walking, he came to an end. Thank Merlin.

It was a stone wall with two entwined serpents carved into it. The serpents’ emerald eyes almost looked to be glaring at Ron, as if to say, Well? What do you want?

Ron gulped. Unless I’m completely off my rocker, you have to speak Parseltongue to get in. And there’s the problem.

“Umm… Could you, y’know, open, please?” Ron asked hesitantly. Nothing happened. The serpents were still staring. I hate snakes. “Um… Open!”


Merlin, I’m not a bleeding Parseltongue! How’m I supposed to get in there?

Maybe, a little voice replied snidely, you could imitate Harry. Weren’t you listening when he opened the entrance in the bathroom?

Ron sighed. This is not the time for me to go absolutely bonkers. I don’t need to start hearing voices now.

He had to admit, though, the voice had a point. He had been paying attention to Harry when they were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

And how hard could it be to imitate that weird hissing noise?


A while later, Ron had to admit that imitating the weird hissing noise Harry had made was harder than he had thought. Either that, or the password wasn’t Open.

Just my luck, he thought dejectedly. Harry and Ginny are somewhere behind this stupid wall, and I can’t imitate a bleeding snake well enough to get through.

Just try once more,
the same voice told him. This time, though, it had an encouraging tone of voice.

Ron sighed. As soon as I get through this wall, I’m going to kill you, bloody voice.

Just try the password again.
Now the voice sounded oddly like Hermione.

Great. Now I’m hearing Hermione’s voice in my head.
Ron sighed and tried the hissing noise again. I sound like I’m choking. This isn’t going to—

The serpents untwined as the wall parted, granting Ron access to the chamber beyond.

Ron stared. It worked.

Of course it worked,
replied the voice. Now go find Harry and Ginny.

Ron stepped forward hesitantly. Where are Harry and Ginny?

Riddle had left. Harry knew that.

Riddle thought he was dead. Harry knew that, too.

Harry also knew Riddle had been almost right when he had laughed and left the Chamber. Harry was dying.

Harry was almost completely sure Ginny was dead, too.

Someone was running. “Harry? Ginny? Harry!”

Ron? How did he get in here?

“Harry?!?” Ron was kneeling by Harry, looking at Harry’s face. “Harry, what happened?”

Harry tried to answer. He really did. “…Sorry, Ron,” he managed. “…basilisk… bit me. Vold…He’s back. He’s back, Ron.”

Ron shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

Harry tried to shake his head and failed. He couldn’t move. “He… Ginny…. ‘m sorry…”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Ron told Harry, trying to sound confident. “You’ll be okay. Madame Pomfrey’ll fix you up in no time. Let’s just get out of here. Where’s Ginny?”
Harry didn’t answer. Ron looked up and saw his sister lying a few feet away. He stepped around Harry and dragged Ginny closer. She didn’t react. Please be okay, Gin. Please.

“Now, I’m going to get you out of here, and then Madame Pomfrey will fix you two up in no time.” His cheerful tone sounded affected even to his own ears.

A crimson bird with a gold tail floated down to eyelevel, its tail feathers in Ron’s face. Ron eyed it doubtfully. “What’re you?” He waved the feathers out of his face.

“Fawkes…” Harry whispered. “… grab… tail…”

Ron looked from his friend to the bird skeptically before grabbing hold of Harry and Ginny’s sleeves with one hand. With the other, he grasped the bird’s tail.

A feeling of weightlessness spread through Ron, and before he could fully process what was happening, the bird was flying, and he and Harry and Ginny were sailing behind it.

The bird—Fawkes—flew up the pipe into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. In the bathroom, Fawkes let Ron, Harry, and Ginny down. Before Ron could let go of Fawkes’ tail or of his sister or best friend, Fawkes disappeared in a burst of flame.

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed, pulling his hand back.

There was something odd about the bathroom. Ron looked around. “Bloody hell!”

They weren’t in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom anymore.

Professor Dumbledore smiled at Ron from beside Professor McGonagall’s fireplace.

Mrs. Weasley glared at her youngest son. “Ron!”

Ron reddened but ignored his mother. “Harry and Ginny need to go to the Hospital Wing,” he told Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. McGonagall was clutching her chest. “And Harry said You-Know-Who’s back, and someone killed Lockhart, and”—

He was cut off by Mrs. Weasley noticing the limp forms of Harry and Ginny. “Ginny?!?”

“There are things worth dying for!”

-Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling


Ron stared at the twin caskets that held his little sister and his best mate with dead eyes. Why’d they have to die?

Next to him, Molly Weasley was sobbing. Arthur Weasley had his arms around her, trying to comfort her somehow as he, too, cried.

Bill and Charlie had come home in shock, hoping the letters they had received were cruel pranks pulled by the twins, only to have those small hopes dashed when they walked in the door.

Percy hadn’t been as pompous lately, although he was still too pompous in Ron’s book. No one really talked in the Weasley house anymore, though, so he hadn’t really had a chance to be a prat or redeem himself.

Fred and George had stopped pranking. They couldn’t start a prank without thinking The last time we pulled one like this, Ginny almost killed us, or We pulled this on Ron and Harry last year, remember?

The only people who were happy on hearing of the death of the Boy Who Lived were Slytherins—especially Draco Malfoy and his father—and the Dursleys. The Dursleys refused to come to the funeral and refused to take possession of anything Harry had owned—even the gold in Harry’s Gringott’s vault. It was still being debated what would happen to the gold in question, but Dumbledore was pushing for it going to the Weasleys.

Ron didn’t care one way or another—in fact, if anyone had asked him, he probably would have confessed to wishing the gold didn’t go to his family. It would be finalizing, somehow, that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, his best mate, wasn’t coming back.

“Past the point of no return,

The final threshold;
The bridge is crossed,
So stand and watch it burn!
We’ve passed the point of no return…”

-The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Weber

A/N: My first fic! YES!!! I hoped you liked it.

(I slightly edited it, just for looks and such. A couple of my paragraphs weren't seperated (spelling?) like they should have been.)

Please review, and more stories are on the way!

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