Chapter 46: Finally Free
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 46: Finally Free
Harry turned his head slowly, his heart still pounding from the narrow escape from the dungeon.
A figure stood in the shadows of the corridor, semi‑translucent and glowing faintly in the dim light from the magical torches.
It hovered forward, and Harry's breath caught in his throat.
It was Alistair Parkinson.
But he was different now. The tattered, water‑logged robes that had clung to him like a blanket were now gone, and replaced by a proper Hogwarts uniform...crisp and clean, the silver and green of Slytherin gleaming on his chest.
His face was brighter, more defined, no longer hollow and desperate.
The shadows that had haunted his features had lifted. His dark hair was neat, and his eyes...the same dark eyes as Pansy's, were now filled with warmth and gratitude.
And he was smiling.
"Alistair," Harry said.
The ghost nodded, his form flickering slightly as he moved closer. "Harry Potter. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done."
Harry stared at him. His disbelief was warring with a deep sense of relief. "You're free. The flames… they must have destroyed the container keeping your body."
"Yes," Alistair said. "Your act of courage broke the prison that held us. "
"Us?" Harry asked. "You mean..." He recalled the countless containers he saw in the dungeon. There were too many of them, and he didn't have the time to examine them properly.
" Yes," Alistair responded. "All the souls trapped in that chamber are finally free. The chains that bound our spirits have been shattered."
As he spoke, more figures began to appear behind him.
They emerged from the walls and floor.
Translucent shapes, glowing faintly in the darkness of the corridor. Young faces, some no older than Harry, others a few years older, their features showed their wonder and relief.
They wore uniforms from different houses, different decades.
Gryffindor red and gold, Ravenclaw blue and bronze, Hufflepuff yellow and black, Slytherin green and silver.
Harry tried to count them as they drifted past...a dozen, perhaps more. There were just too many, and they went by quickly.
Some were boys, some girls. All of them looked young, too young to have died, too innocent to have been trapped in that chamber of horrors.
They floated past him, their ghostly forms brushing against him. Each one paused for a second, their eyes meeting his, and spoke a single word.
"Thank you."
One by one, they went past him, through the stone walls of the castle, disappearing into the night.
Their forms grew brighter and more radiant as they ascended toward the ceiling, toward the stars, toward whatever lay beyond.
Harry watched them go, his heart aching with a strange mixture of grief and joy. They had been trapped for years, or maybe decades. Their tortured souls had been used to fuel Dumbledore's dark rituals.
But now they were finally free.
A girl with red hair and a Ravenclaw scarf paused in front of him. She was perhaps fourteen or fifteen.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I have been trapped here since 1985. I had given up hope. But you freed me."
Before Harry could respond, she faded, dissolving into light and ascending through the ceiling.
A boy with a Gryffindor badge, no older than Harry, lingered for a moment longer. "I wish I could tell Mom that I'm sorry for not coming back home. But that's okay...I think I will see her again one day."
"Im sure you will." Harry didn't know if that was true, but it felt right to say.
The boy smiled, then vanished.
One by one, they all faded, leaving Harry alone with Alistair.
Alistair lingered for a bit longer, his eyes fixed on Harry. His form was growing brighter, more transparent, as the pull of the afterlife grew stronger.
"I cannot stay here much more...I can feel it," he said. "The pull is getting strong. I can sense the veil calling me." He paused. "But before I go, I have a message for my sister."
Harry stepped closer, his heart aching after thinking of Pansy. But he still looked at the ghost of her brother with determination. "Tell me. I will remember your words and give her the message the next time I see her."
Alistair's eyes met his. "Tell her to stop obsessing about the past. Tell her that she cannot change what happened to me, to our family, to everything we lost. She needs to live her own life, to find her own happiness. She deserves that much. She deserves to be free."
Harry nodded, his throat tight. "I'll tell her. I promise." He hoped to be able to fulfill that promise one day.
Alistair nodded, and a warm, genuine smile formed on his face. "Thank you, Harry Potter. For everything. For finding my body, for freeing my spirit, and for giving me peace."
He began to fade, his form growing brighter and more translucent.
Alistair's smile was the last thing he saw before the ghost dissolved into light, ascending through the ceiling and disappearing into the night sky.
Harry stood alone in the corridor, surrounded by the fading echoes of the freed spirits.
For a long moment, Harry did not move.
He stared at the spot where Alistair had vanished, his mind still processing everything that had happened. The faces of the freed spirits lingered in his memory...their gratitude, their relief, their hope.
But before he could dwell on this, he heard it.
Footsteps and shouting. The sound of heavy doors slamming open.
The commotion had alerted the entire castle. Harry could hear voices echoing from the floors below...professors, prefects, perhaps even the Junior Inquisitors. They were coming toward the third floor, and fast.
Harry's blood ran cold. He had to move...and he had to move right now. Getting caught here would be a thousand times more severe than what happened in the Black Lake.
He now knew that Dumbledore had killed students for much lesser offenses than this one.
He fumbled with his robes, his hands shaking, and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. He threw it over his shoulders, feeling the familiar sensation of invisibility settle over him like a second skin.
His heart was pounding hard on his chest, his breath coming in short gasps.
He turned and ran as fast as he could, only slowing down a bit when people got close, so as not to give his presence away with the sound of his steps.
The corridors were in chaos.
Harry slipped past a group of prefects. They were carrying torches and shouting orders at each other, trying to make sense of the commotion.
The fiery explosion caused by Tom Riddle's last spell must have been felt in the entire castle.
Harry ducked around a corner as Professor Flitwick rushed past, his wand raised, his small form moving with surprising speed.
He heard Mister Filch's voice echoing from somewhere below, shouting orders that no one seemed to be following.
Harry moved like a ghost, invisible and silent. He knew the castle better than most at this point. He had made sure to memorize every corridor, every staircase, every hidden passage during his months of reconnaissance.
He wove through the confusion, avoiding the patrols, staying out of sight.
He passed a group of Junior Inquisitors with their shiny silver badges. They were rushing toward the third floor with their wands drawn, ready to pushish the culprit.
Harry pressed himself against the wall as they ran past, so close he could feel the wind produced by their movements.
He reached the entrance to the dungeons and slipped inside.
The Slytherin common room was dark and quiet.
The fire had burned down to embers, and the portraits were all asleep, their inhabitants snoring softly. No one was there to see him.
He could guess that the noises had not reached the distant dungeons yet.
It was a good thing that his commo room was in the most desolate part of the castle. It would have been hard to sneak back into his bedroom without notice if everyone was already awake.
Harry moved silently through the common room. He reached his dormitory door and eased it open.
Inside, the room was dark. Draco, Crabbe, and Blaise were all fast asleep, their breathing slow and even.
The curtains of their four‑poster beds were drawn, hiding them from view. Harry could hear Draco muttering something in his sleep, a wordless murmur that faded into silence.
He breathed a sigh of relief, slipped off the cloak, and tucked it into the hidden compartment beneath his bed.
His hands were still shaking, and his heart was still racing from all the adrenaline.
He pulled off his robes and threw on his pyjamas, then climbed into his bed.
He lay there, staring at the canopy above him, his mind still spinning.
'I did it,' he thought. 'I got out of there, and no one saw me...'
Harry tried to close his eyes and get some rest, though it was pointless. His body may be exhausted, but his mind was too busy at the moment.
The questions kept forming, crowding out the sensation of relief.
What happened to Tom Riddle? Could he have survived that explosion? He said that they would meet again. But how would that work?
Harry had seen the green flames consume everything. He had felt the heat on his back as he fled. No one could have survived that.
But then he recalled the Dark Lord's words: "You are a very interesting boy, Harry Potter. I hope we will meet again in the future."
'He said he had been planning for that moment, so...he must have had a way to escape.' Harry considered it after thinking about it for a bit.
This was Tom Riddle after all.
In a different world, he was considered the most terrifying Dark Lord in the world and an equal to Albus Dumbledore when it came to magical capability.
If there is anyone who could escape under such conditions...that would be him.
"Magic can always make the impossible possible." He also spoke those words to him.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to quiet his racing thoughts.
He thought of the freed spirits, ascending into the night.
He thought of the chamber, now destroyed, its horrors reduced to ash.
And he thought of Dumbledore, who would soon return to find his laboratory in ruins, his prisoner gone, his trophies destroyed.
'He will be furious,' Harry thought.' He will tear the castle apart looking for answers.'
If the Headmaster discovers it was he, the one responsible...there was no telling what he would do.
But regardless of what happened to him in the future...after seeing the ghost of Alistair and those other children being freed from their prisons, he knew he had done the right thing.
And for now...that was enough.
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