Dad’s going to kill me, Harry thought as he grasped Dumbledore’s arm and let himself be Apparated away from Hogwarts.

He didn’t see his father in the hours spent in the Chamber, rehashing every detail with Ron and Hermione about the last seven decades. He didn’t even have time to write Riddle himself, having gotten so lost in their history recollection that he ended up nearly late meeting Dumbledore. As such, Ron and Hermione were the only ones that knew he was leaving with the headmaster to get a horcrux. He’d left them to continue brainstorming and tell Riddle anything they came up with. It was also with heavy guilt that he left them to tell Severus where he was when his father inevitably searched for him.

When the Apparation ended and he opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but repeat his sentiment that Severus was going to kill him.

He gazed out at the rough, dark sea behind them from their precarious position at the cave’s entrance. The air was cold, damp, and salty as it hit his face and soaked into his clothes. Hard waves crashed up the side of the cliff, threatening to spill over the edge and drench his shoes. He swallowed thickly, nervous about being in such a location with the man planning his death after a lifetime of control. He turned back around to face the cave and glanced at Dumbledore beside him.

“Where are we, Professor?” Harry asked.

“This is the cave in which Tom tortured his fellow orphans,” Dumbledore said and Harry’s eyes widened.

Of course. The horcruxes have been in places connected to Riddle’s life, Harry thought, hoping they’d be able to figure out the final hiding place and get Hufflepuff’s goblet if they kept that in mind.

“Stay close, my boy,” Dumbledore said, pulling his wand and illuminating it.

Harry did the same, glad to have his wand drawn. He took a subtle deep breath and followed as Dumbledore began to walk further into the cave. They were silent as they walked, Harry trying to keep his breathing even and praying his pounding heart wasn’t audible. He had no idea what to expect and it terrified him.

They continued deeper into the cave, surrounded by nothing but dark, damp stone. The deeper they went, the further his stomach sank with anxiety. After several long minutes—at least fifteen if Harry had to guess—they came to what seemed to be a dead end. Harry raised his wand a little and turned slowly, looking around for a path. He turned back to Dumbledore just as the headmaster dragged a knife across his palm. Harry frowned, confused.

“Blood Magic conceals the path forward,” Dumbledore said, putting his cut palm to the stone wall.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, finding the man’s response didn’t really explain. Was he supposed to believe Voldemort had used Blood Magic and Dumbledore’s blood somehow broke said magic? Couldn’t Blood Magic only be broken by the blood used to create the magic in the first place? The thoughts paused as he watched the stone under the headmaster’s hand shimmer and disappear, leaving behind an arched opening. He leaned to the side to try and see through the doorway, but there was only more darkness.

Dumbledore gave him what once would have been a comforting and encouraging smile, but, now, Harry could see past it. Dumbledore was planning something and it was going to happen in the next chamber. He hesitated following the headmaster through the doorway, even looking over his shoulder at the way they came, contemplating leaving.

He sighed. He couldn’t leave. If he left, it meant he was giving up.

He steeled himself and ducked through the archway. He was in complete darkness aside from his little wand light, but he could tell the chamber was huge and open. It was also cool and he thought he could hear water lightly lapping at rock. Dumbledore was a few meters in front of him, wand held high over his head. Harry walked slowly, the ground jagged beneath his feet as he came up beside the headmaster. By their combined wand light, Harry could see that they stood at the edge of dark water. Dumbledore waved his wand in a huge arch and the chamber lit up, large blue orbs floating high above them. Harry’s eyes grew wide. 

They stood at the edge of a huge lake with a jagged island in the center, roughly a quarter-kilometer away. Harry could just make out something standing up from the center of the island, a slight blue glow emitting from the top. His attention was drawn from the island to Dumbledore who had started to slowly move about the edge, looking at the water as though searching for something. Harry watched the man for a minute before turning back to the water at his feet. He crouched and gazed at the almost glassy surface before his eyes narrowed, beginning to make out figure in the dark.

“Professor?” Harry said. “There’s something in the water.”

“Inferi,” Dumbledore said. “Many the victims of Voldemort, I believe. Do take care not to touch the water, my boy.”

Harry frowned, his stomach twisting, but nodded. He watched as Dumbledore held his wand out in front of him over the water and, from the depths, a wooden rowboat rose.

“Our way across,” Dumbledore said with a smile and Harry joined him.

Harry couldn’t help how stiffly he held himself as they sat in the boat and floated across the lake. His fingers were beginning to ache with how tightly they remained clenched around his wand. He wasn’t even sure what he could do if Dumbledore did do something. Basically everything he knew was a lie, but he knew Dumbledore was extraordinarily powerful and he had no hope of winning a fight.

He startled when his bracelet suddenly warmed on his wrist. He looked down and felt his heart sink as he read the single word from his father. 

GROUNDED!

He couldn’t help but think that was a fairly generous reaction to Severus clearly finding out where he was, only to realize anything else his father would want to say was likely too long for the pendant. He held back a groan.

He was so dead.

They finally arrived at the island and climbed out of the boat which sank back into the water. They stepped carefully up the jagged rockface to find a large stone pedestal in the center, an oddly shaped, slightly purple crystal basin on top. In the basin was a foggy, purple liquid, partially obscuring a small item sitting on the bottom.

Slytherin’s locket.

How was he supposed to get it from Dumbledore?

“It must be drunk,” Dumbledore said and Harry looked at him.

“What is it?” Harry asked, looking nervously at the purple liquid.

“Terrible agony, I’m afraid.”

Harry froze, dread falling over him, and he slowly turned to the headmaster. Dumbledore’s expression hadn’t changed except for the way the blue eyes had darkened. Harry took an unconscious step back, gripping his wand.

“Quite impressive, discovering my endeavours,” Dumbledore said. “However, it certainly changes things.”

Harry had no time to react before he was viciously knocked to the ground and the stone beneath him moved, morphing to wrap around his wrists and ankles. He was bound to the stone and his wand had fallen from his grasp. He struggled, pulling against the stone shackles and hissing as his skin tore. His eyes flew back to Dumbledore in fear as the headmaster approached him, holding a cup filled with the purple potion.

“It all would have been much easier had you just accepted your role, my boy,” Dumbledore said almost casually.

Harry felt rage temporarily replace his fear and he glowered at the headmaster. “It is not my role. It’s what you made me.”

The wicked smirk that appeared did not fit on Dumbledore’s face and was unsettling. The man’s hand shot out and gripped Harry’s jaw painfully, forcing his mouth open. The potion was poured into his mouth and he was forced to swallow by the hand moving to cover his mouth.

“It is unfortunate that you broke the rules,” Dumbledore said, retaining the casual tone that was out of place in the situation.

Harry found it nearly impossible to focus on what Dumbledore was saying while retrieving more potion. Fire seemed to build in his body, licking painfully at his bones. His hands had curled into fists and he was trying to hold back any sounds of distress. More potion was forced down his throat before Dumbledore spoke again.

“However, the game is…adaptable,” Dumbledore said. 

More potion and the fire had worsened. It almost felt like little knives had joined the fire, picking at his bones. It was excruciating and he couldn’t hold back a whimper though he still bit back a scream.

“You will become the game’s martyr and another will be the hero,” Dumbledore said. “Every good conflict needs a martyr.”

More potion and Harry could no longer hold back a scream, tears pouring down his face. It felt like his bones were slowly being eaten away.

“You were one of my best,” Dumbledore said, sounding regretful. “It is why I chose you for the role of hero.”

“Y-you…took…e-every…thing fro-from me,” Harry gasped out, glaring through his pain.

“Heroism is born of tragedy,” Dumbledore said, pouring more potion into Harry’s mouth and tossing the cup aside. “Truly a shame it has come to this.”

“Y-you were…g-go-going to…k-kill me any…way,” Harry gasped. “W-what does…i-it matter when?”

“I was not going to kill you, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said, sounding surprised at the idea. “No, you were going to willingly go to your death. The perfect hero willing to die for the greater good.”

“S-screw your…gr-greater…good,” Harry spat.

“As I said, unfortunate,” Dumbledore said, “but adjustments can be made.”

Harry writhed and ground his teeth as his bones continued dissolving. His vision was blurry through the pain and tears, but he watched Dumbledore pull the locket out of the basin.

“I…w-will…stop you,” Harry ground out.

“Will you?” Dumbledore said lightly, that smirk returning to his face. “You are nothing without me.”

“Y-you’re…wrong!” Harry spat.

“I’ll give you one last test, shall I?” Dumbledore said and waved his wand in a complicated pattern.

The stone holding Harry down melted away, releasing him. He felt the pain in his bones diminish slightly, just enough to enable him to move. He scrambled for his wand, grabbing it and spinning around just in time to see Dumbledore point his wand at the water. Harry watched the lake ripple ominously and glowered at Dumbledore.

“Another chance to prove yourself to truly be the Boy Who Lived,” Dumbledore said and then he disappeared. 

Harry crawled up to the pedestal, every movement feeling like knives carving into his bones. He grabbed onto the top of the pedestal, intending to stand when something caught his eye. He looked closely at a square panel just under the pedestal’s top, frowning at the snake in the shape of a ‘T’ inscribed in the stone.

The sound of small stone plopping into still water made his head whip around, searching for the source. His eyes darted around over the lake and the water’s edge. Seeing the still, mirror-like state of the lake, he turned back to the pedestal. He lifted a shaky hand, groaning quietly at the agony movement caused, and traced the snake. He frowned when he felt it shudder under his touch and pulled away, only to watch with wide eyes as the panel trembled and fell from the pedestal. It shattered as it hit the jagged rock, but Harry’s eyes were stuck on the revealed opening. Behind the panel was a small chamber and in it sat the locket of Salazar Slytherin.

How was it possible? He’d seen Dumbledore take the locket from the basin.

He was about the grab the locket when something suddenly grasped his ankle. He spun just as he was dragged across the stone. His eyes widened in horror at the skeletal creatures pulling on his ankles, their hands like talons and skin like rotting leather pulled tight over bones. Their eye sockets glowed red and they emitted chilling screeches. He broke out of his shock after far too long and made to cast a spell, but was yanked hard and he fell into the water.

The cold stole his breath and was a shock to his already agonized body. The pain in his bones was amplified and he screamed, water filling his lungs. The Inferi kept hold of his ankles, claws digging in and keeping him sinking while he was swarmed by the hundreds of Inferi filling the lake. He waved his wand as quickly as he could through the water, casting curse after curse. Inferi were blown away through the water only to be replaced by ten more. He pried their claws from him, feeling his skin rip and tear.

His vision began to spot, his head swam, and his chest burned, desperate for oxygen. Inhaling even more icy water as his thigh and throat were torn into, he raised his wand over his head.

Ascendio! he yelled in his head and found himself flying through the water.

He landed just on the edge of the island, heaving in air and coughing out water. He had little time to recover as the Inferi followed, swarming the island and climbing up his still partially submerged body. He kicked out at them, swinging his wand around frantically, and scrambled up the island to the pedestal once again. 

An Inferius grabbed his arm and he screamed as his skin began burning. He tore away, screaming again and trembling with shock as his skin essentially slid off in the Inferius’ grasp. He slashed his wand, blowing back a huge group of crawling creatures, and hurried backwards.

“Bombarda!” he shouted, realizing his focus was waning and his non-verbal spells were becoming less effective. A large section of the island exploded, sending more than a dozen Inferi into the lake in pieces. Flying stone scratched his face, but he didn’t notice. He was both numb and in excruciating agony. A sob fell from his lips as he tried to crawl backward.

He fell to his back as an Inferius crawled over the pedestal and dropped on top of him. His wand was knocked from his hand and he fought to throw the creature off of him, even as others swiped at his flailing legs and steadily crawled up the island towards him. His hands burned where he pushed on the Inferius, but he kept pushing. He howled in agony as claws burrowed into his chest and he shoved at the Inferius harder. The claws dragged down his chest and abdomen, gouging deep and long, nearly eviscerating him. He managed to throw the Inferius from him, sending it tumbling into a couple others and into the water.

He whimpered, but pushed through, keeping Severus in his thoughts. He had to make it back to him. It would destroy Severus if he died. He threw his hand back and found his wand, whipping it around.

“Confringo!”

Dozens of Inferi caught fire with screeches and they tumbled off the island. With the half-second reprieve, Harry snatched the locket from the pedestal’s secret compartment and forced himself to his feet in spite of his injuries. He could feel how light his head was becoming and he could hardly see past the spots in his vision.

“Confringo!”

Another dozen Inferi burst into flames.

“Reducto!”

A few Inferi that had clambered up the pedestal exploded along with the crystal basin.

He shoved the locket in his trouser pocket. He needed to get out of there. He picked his way through the Inferi to the edge of the island.

“Bombarda!”

With the opening created, Harry dove into the water. The pain created by moving as he swam as quickly as possible threatened to make him black out. He so badly wanted to, wanted to just give in and get relief, but he couldn’t give up. He couldn’t leave his friends, couldn’t leave his father or brother, couldn’t let Dumbledore win. They were too close to ending it, to getting their lives back.

So, he pushed as hard as he could, whimpering and sobbing as he went. He could feel the Inferi around him, could feel their claws scraping his legs as they attempted to drag him back to their depths. He was exhausted, hardly able to drag himself out of the lake when he finally made it to the other side. He was pulling himself out when he was yanked back, talons once again ripping into his leg. He flipped over onto his back and sliced his wand at the Inferius.

“Expulso!”

The Inferius’ arm blew off, releasing Harry’s leg and allowing him to scramble up the rocky bank. He struggled to his feet, trying to dash to the exit even as he continuously stumbled. Despite the fact that he was still technically in danger, the fact that he was no longer being directly attacked seemed to be causing him to be more aware of his pain. His bones were still burning, dissolving slowly inside him. He could feel the gouges and gashes, and the blood pouring from them. He could feel where his skin had bubbled and burned off.

He sobbed as he limped his way to the cave’s entrance. Once there, he slumped against the wall and gazed out at the rough sea. He felt the cold water mix with his hot tears. If it wasn’t for the full moon above, it would’ve been pitch black. Breathing hard and fighting to stay conscious, he looked around. He needed to get out of there and back to Hogwarts, but how? He had no idea where he was to even try and call for help, not that he had any way to contact anyone anyway.

He collapsed a little more against the wall and his eyes fluttered as his body threatened to give in.

How was he supposed to get home?

He had no Portkey or broom. There was no Floo. He had no means of communication. He didn’t know how to Apparate.

He forced his eyes open at the last thought. He didn’t know how to do it, but it was his only option. He knew the theory. He just had to focus or, rather, use whatever sliver of focus he had left. But, where to go? He couldn’t Apparate into the castle or even the grounds, but he needed to go somewhere he could get help.

He shoved away from the wall and stood, unsteadily, at the cave’s edge. He gripped his wand and closed his eyes. He tried to ignore his pain to picture his destination. He imagined his being appearing there, took a deep, shuddering breath, and spun sharply.

The feeling of being sucked through a straw was there, just as the books described. Through the travel, he could still feel all his pain, but thought he felt something else. The new pain kicked in and joined the rest when his Apparation ended, and he couldn’t stop himself from screaming or collapsing to the ground. His hands flew to the new source of agony, finding a huge chunk of flesh missing from his side.

He couldn’t stop his tunneling vision though he did manage to spot light glinting off a brown, shiny dragon. He thought he heard voices and crunching gravel, thought he felt gentle hands, but he really wasn’t sure. He’d have to find out later. For now, darkness called.