The Plan Backfires

Harry had not gotten far, however, when a serpent's tail came from nowhere and struck him in the waist, sending his back crashing hard against the stone wall.

The air was squeezed from his lungs, and his vision went black, but he kept a death grip on the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket.

"You're fast, little lion." Basilisk Voldemort's voice came from close to the floor, his massive body gleaming a sickly green in the corridor's candlelight. Harry saw that the scales on his tail had split and curled back, dark red blood seeping out. Clearly, the magical backlash had injured him too.

The serpent's tongue nearly touched his nose. "Now, there's no one else here. Give me the Philosopher's Stone." His golden slit pupils softened, and a hint of persuasion entered his voice. "Honestly, Harry Potter, we don't have to be at each other's throats like this."

"Impossible! Voldemort! Over my dead body!" Harry pressed the tip of his wand against the Basilisk's lower jaw.

The Basilisk suddenly let out a humanlike sigh. "Don't be so stubborn. There's no need for this to end with one of us dead." With every sentence, he edged an inch closer. "Harry, we can prevent what happens in the future. Everyone you care about will live."

Harry's fingertips began to tremble. He saw Fred lying in the rubble, saw Lupin's and Sirius's eyes closed forever, saw Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower-

"We can reshape the rules." The Basilisk's voice suddenly grew younger, like Hogwarts's Black Lake rippling beneath the moon. "No pure-blood rebellion, no Azkaban... You could even bring the Potters back."

The wand dipped slightly, and the Basilisk moved another step closer to Harry, waiting for his answer.

Suddenly, Harry jabbed the handle of his wand viciously into the Basilisk's right eye. "You think you can buy me off with a fairy tale like that?"

"Hisss-ah!" The Basilisk writhed in agony, smashing a column.

Harry seized the chance to scramble to his feet, blood winding down from the corner of his mouth. "Even if I don't join forces with you, I'll save everyone!" He wiped away the blood, revealing a bloody smile. "In my own way."

Basilisk Voldemort's slit pupils abruptly contracted into thin lines. He was just about to slither forward when the blood seeping from Harry's leg and the dark red liquid running between the Basilisk's split scales fell onto the Philosopher's Stone at the same time.

A blinding red light burst forth like an explosion. Harry instinctively shut his eyes, but he could still sense the scarlet flickering beyond his eyelids. When the light faded, he opened his eyes, trembling-

The giant Basilisk that had been coiled before him was gone. Only a small snake less than a foot long remained on the floor, pitch-black all over, its eyes still the same familiar golden slits. It thrashed wildly, hissing furious curses:

"What did you do to me?! You damned-"

A sudden, searing pain tore through Harry's abdomen. He sucked in a sharp breath and grimaced as he lifted the hem of his shirt.

The sight before him made his eyes widen.

On his fair skin, a serpent-shaped pattern glowed with an eerie dark light, wriggling slightly like a living thing. The pattern wound from his navel to his side, the serpent's head resting just below his ribs, like the mark of some ancient Dark Magic contract.

The little snake suddenly went rigid. It stared fixedly at the mark, and for the first time, uncertainty entered its voice. "That's impossible... How could this..."

"What is this?" Harry asked.

But the little snake shut its mouth and said nothing.

Harry stared at the uncooperative snake, then seized it just behind the head and lifted it to eye level. The little snake struggled in vain between his fingers, its slender tail curling around his wrist. The cold, slippery touch made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He thought he must be mad, planning to take a snake that could talk to Dumbledore—and that snake was Voldemort, no less!

But the moment he and the little snake met each other's eyes.

"Let go, you idiot," the little snake cursed.

"Shut up," he ordered hoarsely. Ignoring the little snake's hissing protests, he stuffed it whole into his sleeve. The sleeve was roomy enough that a small snake hidden inside was unnoticeable, apart from the muffled curses coming from within.

Harry limped toward the spiral staircase, leaving broken red streaks of blood across the castle's stone floor.

Harry stood at the entrance to the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster's Office, the serpent mark on his abdomen still faintly warm.

He took a deep breath, raised his hand, and knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore's gentle voice called.

Harry pushed open the door and saw silver instruments lining the walls and rotating star charts. The old man sat behind a large desk, his blue eyes twinkling gently behind his Half-moon Spectacles—but Harry distinctly caught a hint of knowing in that gaze, as though he had expected his arrival.

"Ah, Harry." He smiled and gestured for him to sit. "Sherbet Lemon?"

"No, thank you." Harry pressed his lips together and threw the snake from his sleeve heavily onto the desk.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly.

Harry braced himself and recounted everything in full-from the strange vision in the Mirror of Erised, to the struggle over the Philosopher's Stone, and finally the eerie red light. At the end, he seized the little snake by the tail and lifted it upside down. "And this."

The little snake immediately went rigid and played dead, even drawing back its tongue.

Dumbledore studied the pitch-black little snake, then suddenly smiled. "You did very well, Harry."

That's it?

Harry stared. He had expected a barrage of questions or some meaningful probing. But the old man merely stroked Fawkes's feathers, his gaze as calm as the surface of the Black Lake.

Firelight flickered between them. Harry stared at his clasped hands, then suddenly spoke. "Professor..." His voice was barely audible. "Do you believe in rebirth?"

The air seemed to freeze.

Dumbledore did not answer for a long time. Just as Harry thought he would not respond, the old man slowly removed his spectacles and gently wiped the lenses with his robe.

"My child," he said, putting his spectacles back on and looking straight at him with his blue eyes, "I do."

Harry's breath caught.

"Time," Dumbledore said, his gaze passing over him as though looking somewhere far away, "is far more elusive than we imagine."

The little snake suddenly stirred, its golden slit pupils opening a crack.