Chapter 45: The Forbidden Room Part 3
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 45: The Forbidden Room Part 3
Harry stood frozen, his wand still aimed at the glass container holding Alistair Parkinson's body. The prisoner's words echoed in his mind: "If you can help me with something, I'll take care of that for you."
He turned slowly to face the bound man. The leather mask obscured most of his features, but Harry could see the faint but confident smile on his face.
"What do you need?" Harry asked, his voice steady despite the fear coiling in his stomach.
The prisoner was silent for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. Then he said, "I am currently unable to use any of my magic. The metal device restraining me is constantly draining my power, keeping me weak, keeping me trapped. But with your help, I could unlock just a tiny piece of my abilities. Enough to do what needs to be done."
Harry looked at the massive metal frame, at the blood runes carved into its surface, at the chains that bound the man's wrists and ankles.
He had no idea how to free someone from something like this. The runes were ancient and complex, far beyond anything he had learned.
"I don't know how to free you from those bonds," Harry admitted. "I barely understand the runes, let alone how to break them."
The prisoner let out a loud laugh that echoed off the stone walls. "I didn't expect a little boy to be able to free me completely. That would be asking too much. No, what I need from you is simpler. And far more… personal."
Harry stepped closer, his wand light illuminating the prisoner's face. "What do you mean?"
The prisoner opened his mouth.
Harry leaned in, squinting in the dim light. And then he saw it.
The man had no teeth. His gums were smooth and pink, as if they had been removed long ago. But that was not what made Harry's stomach turn. What made his blood run cold was what he saw on the man's tongue.
A magical circle had been engraved into the flesh. It was small, intricate, and precise...a series of interlocking symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the flesh.
The edges of the cuts were raised and red, the skin around them inflamed and raw. It looked excruciatingly painful.
Harry gasped. "Your tongue… what happened to you?"
The prisoner's lips curved into a bitter smile. "The old man's work. He wanted to make sure I couldn't cast wandless magic. He carved this into my tongue and removed all my teeth to make sure I couldn't bite it. It's a binding circle...it prevents me from channeling any magic through my voice. Without it, I could still use wandless spells, even without a wand. But with it…" He shook his head slowly. "I've been left powerless for over a decade."
Harry stared at the ruined tongue, at the intricate symbols carved into the flesh. The cruelty of it was almost beyond comprehension.
Dumbledore had done this. Dumbledore had carved a binding circle into a man's tongue and left him like this for years.
"Why are you showing me this?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Because I need you to cut it out," the prisoner said calmly.
Harry's blood ran cold. "What?"
"You heard me." The prisoner's voice was steady, almost clinical. "The binding circle is on my tongue. If you cut my tongue out, the circle will be destroyed. I will be able to cast wandless magic again. Not much, mind you...The metal frame is still draining me – but enough to get the job done."
Harry took a step back, his mind reeling. "You want me to cut your tongue?. I... can't do that..."
"Of course you can, just make sure you get a sharp knife," the prisoner said. "You want to save your friend's spirit, right? You want to destroy the old man's work? Well...this is how you do it. Cutting my tongue is the key. Do that, and I can break the wards keeping those souls trapped. I can destroy this chamber and ruin the old man's plans."
Harry shook his head. "There has to be another way."
"There is no other way," the prisoner said, his voice hardening. "I have been planning this for years, Potter. Years. I have memorised every inch of this chamber, every weakness in its defences. I know exactly how to break the old man's spells. But I cannot do it without my power."
"I..." Harry took a step back.
"This is not the moment for hesitation, boy." The prisoner says. "It's only a matter of time before your presence here is noticed, and then...we will never get another chance like this one."
Harry looked down at his hands. They were shaking. But he thought of poor Alistair Parkison, who was unjustly murdered and had his spirit trapped.
And he was not the only one. Harry saw all the other bodies kept in those glass jars. He did not recognize them, but they all looked so young...like other Hogwarts students who disappeared in previous years and suffered the same fate as Alistair.
He cannot leave them here, in this cold, dark chamber...to be used on some ancient ritual by Dumbledore.
Harry pulled out his pocket knife and looked at the prisoner. "I have a knife... It's from my potion kit. It's sharp."
"Good. That will do." The prisoner said.
"This is what you want?" Harry asked, his voice trembling. "You want me to cut out your tongue?"
"This is the only way. It will be worth your troubles...I promise."
Harry stepped closer, the knife in his hand. His stomach churned, and he could feel bile rising in his throat. He had never hurt anyone before. He had never even thought about hurting anyone.
"Before I do this," Harry said, his voice shaking, "I want to know who you are. I need to hear you say it."
The prisoner was silent for a moment. Then he said, "My name has not been spoken in over a decade. To most people, I am known only as the Dark Lord. The rebel. The traitor. The monster Dumbledore created to justify his rule."
Harry took a breath. "You really are...Tom Riddle."
The prisoner went very still. His eyes widened behind the leather mask.
"How do you know that name?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"I read it," Harry said. "In a book. A book my grandfather wrote."
"Your grandfather...I see." Tom said slowly. "Your grandfather was Fleamont Potter."
"Yes."
Tom was silent for a long moment. "The old man tried to erase me from history. He burned my name from every book, every record, every memory. And yet here you are, a Potter, speaking my name as if it were nothing." He shook his head. "You are a very interesting boy, Harry Potter. I hope we will meet again in the future."
Harry wondered how he was planning on escaping after saying it was not possible.
"Magic can make the impossible... possible," Tom responded to the question he never asked. "I have been planning for this possible scenario. This is not the end of the road...not yet."
Harry stared at him. There was something in the man's voice...a certainty, a conviction that made him believe his words. Tom Riddle was not broken nor defeated.
"Now, get on with it, Mister Harry Potter." Tom Riddle opened his mouth and pulled his tongue all the way out to make the gruesome task a bit easier.
Harry approached slowly.
"Oh...before that. There is one more thing." Tom said.
"W-what is it?" Harry asked.
" When you cut my tongue, the binding circle will break. When it does, I will have only moments to act before the old man's alarms trigger. I will use that time to destroy this chamber and free the souls trapped here. You must not dwell here longer than necessary. As soon as you are done, you must run. Run as fast as you can and do not look back."
Harry nodded. "I understand."
"Then go ahead."
Harry took a deep breath. He stepped closer to the bound man, the knife in his hand. Tom opened his mouth, and Harry could see the engraved circle on his tongue, pulsing faintly.
Harry raised the knife.
He hesitated for just a moment.
Then, with a swift, clean motion, he cut.
The blade was very sharp. The flesh parted easily. Tom let out a muffled cry of pain, but he did not struggle. Blood welled up, spilling from his mouth and dripping down his chin.
Harry stepped back; he felt his stomach turning, but he managed to keep everything inside.
He wiped the knife on his robes and shoved it back into his pocket.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the change came.
Harry felt it before he saw it. The air in the chamber shifted...it grew heavier and thicker...it was charged with power.
The blood runes on the metal frame flickered, dimmed, and then blazed bright red.
Tom Riddle lifted his head.
The metal frame groaned, the chains rattled, and the runes on the walls began to crack.
A bright green light came out of Tom Riddle's mouth.
Harry knew this was the moment to run. He turned around and sprinted towards the entrance, his footsteps echoing off the stone wall.
Behind him, he heard a low, rumbling sound...and then a burst of green light that illuminated the entire chamber.
He glanced back just once.
Green flames were erupting from Tom's mouth, spreading across the walls, consuming everything they touched. The jars shattered. The vials exploded. The glass containers containing the bodies cracked and fell apart, their contents spilling onto the stone floor.
Harry ran.
He retraced his steps, through the narrow passage, past the blood wards, through the false bedroom, into the antechamber.
The green flames were spreading quickly, licking at the walls and ceiling, devouring everything in their path.
He shoved the door open and burst into the third-floor corridor.
The flames were right behind him.
Harry jumped onto the corridor's floor, and just as he did, he felt a strong heat at his back.
When he looked, he saw the flames burst through the door, shattering it in the process before receding inside.
Then...there was silence.
He was out, and he was alive.
Harry looked down at himself to make sure his robes had not caught fire, but he appeared to be fine. His invisibility cloak was secured in his inner pockets and had not been damaged.
He let out a breath of relief.
"That was close..."
He did not expect Tom Riddle to be able to produce magic like that while being so heavily restrained...just how powerful was he?.
Harry glanced at the charred remains of the room he escaped. There was a lot of smoke, and green flames were still burning here and there.
"Can he have survived that ?...no way." Tom had promised him that they would meet again, but how can that be?. There is no chance he was still alive.
And the other question was...what happened to Parkinson?. He couldn't go back in there to check.
Suddenly...Harry felt a presence behind him.
He turned his head slowly and found a figure standing in the shadows.
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