[38] Poisoned Pages

No one noticed Hall's expression as they ran. George had scooped up Ron and was sprinting toward the infirmary, the rest of them pounding after him.

They burst through the door. Dumbledore, Snape, and Lucius Malfoy were still there. The sudden crowd made them all turn.

"What's wrong?" Dumbledore asked.

"Ron fainted!" George gasped.

Dumbledore lifted Ron onto the empty bed beside Draco's. His brow furrowed. He looked between the two boys — identical symptoms.

He cast the same isolation circle around Ron. It did nothing.

"Henry!"

Hall rushed over. Percy appeared behind him in his pyjamas, drawn by the noise. "What's happening? Why did the Headmaster call William?"

George and Fred couldn't answer.

"The circle won't hold," Dumbledore said.

"Where's the diary?" Hall turned to Harry.

Harry blinked. "Ron was holding it before he fainted. I put it down."

Hall took it. Flipped through. Blank.

"That's impossible! Ron's been writing in it for days!"

"What else did he say?"

Harry's voice dropped. "He said he found a way to cure Hall."

Hall's eyes stayed fixed on Ron. He'd always known he mostly disliked his brother. He hadn't realised how important he was to Ron.

"What diary?" Percy demanded.

Fred's eyes went everywhere but Hall's face.

"You gave it to him."

"Ron's things are old," George stammered. "We thought — a new notebook —"

Hall turned back to Dumbledore. Two days shouldn't have caused a coma. Unless — the circle around Draco was blocking the diary from feeding, so it was draining Ron at double speed.

The isolation circle was supposed to protect Ron too. It didn't work.

Ron had less than half his life force left.

"Headmaster! It's him!" Percy's voice cracked. "You evil Slytherin! If it weren't for your thing, Ron wouldn't be like this!"

"Percy, stop—"

"If it weren't for this devil's creation, would Ron be like this?! Only an evil person makes something like this! He should go to the Ministry!"

The Gryffindors who'd gathered outside heard everything. Their voices rose.

"Monsters! How can we study with monsters?!"

"Headmaster, he's killing us!"

"Slytherin are all Dark! Hand them over!"

"A demon! A demon!"

"They're all You-Know-Who's lackeys! Ron was friends with him and look what happened!"

"He should go to Azkaban!"

Students screamed. Some were crying.

Dumbledore raised his hands. "Children, it's late. Go back to rest. I'll handle this."

McGonagall arrived, face like thunder, and herded them back to Gryffindor Tower.

But the Weasleys stayed. Percy. George. Fred. Harry. Hermione.

Percy hadn't finished. "You evil Slytherin! Ron's weak — why don't you find someone stronger!" Tears ran down his face.

"Percy." Dumbledore's voice was calm. "Go find Professor McGonagall. Ask her to send word to your parents."

Percy stared. Then he ran.

Hall looked back at Ron. Dehydration was setting in. Ron had only been on the bed ten minutes.

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"Faster than Draco," Dumbledore said.

The Weasleys were Dumbledore's most loyal supporters. He didn't want any of them harmed at Hogwarts. Arthur and Molly would understand, but a rift like this — especially now, with no telling when Voldemort would return — was dangerous.

He rubbed his temples. One Malfoy, one Weasley. Both dying in the same night.

Hall looked at the diary in his hand. The fastest way was to ask Riddle directly.

He didn't expect the truth.

"Harry." Hall whispered. "Find Helena."

Harry nodded and ran.

Dumbledore watched Hall's silhouette. The boy was already showing signs of leadership.

Perhaps there was another path.

No one noticed Hall slip away from the commotion, a weathered diary clutched in his hands.

Hall remembered what he'd read about basilisk venom. It could destroy soul fragments. If the diary wouldn't cooperate, he'd let Helena poison it slowly.

He took the diary and borrowed a quill from Madam Pomfrey's desk.

What did you do to Ron?

The moment the nib touched paper, Hall felt something push back — like something was trying to climb up through the ink. His writing faded, swallowed by the page. Then, slowly, golden letters appeared.

Who are you?

Dumbledore frowned. "Henry, you shouldn't continue. There's something wrong with that diary."

"This is the fastest way." Everyone understood. Ron didn't have time.

You don't need to know who I am. Tell me what you did to Ron.

Why would I tell you?

The words appeared lazily, almost bored.

Hall smiled. You can choose not to tell. I can also choose to let Helena bite you to death.

Riddle.

The ink vanished into the paper. A long pause.

Who is Helena?

"Are you a slave driver?" Hall muttered.

Dumbledore and Snape watched over his shoulder. They could see every word. Snape frowned — the handwriting was familiar, but too childish for who he was thinking of.

Dumbledore's expression was different. His pupils had dilated. He'd taught that person. Studied everything about him. He knew the handwriting perfectly.

The name Hall had used confirmed it.

Tom Riddle. Voldemort's real name.

Dumbledore was about to speak when Harry burst back in. He handed something small to Hall, who placed it casually on the diary.

A snake.

Dumbledore's breath caught. The eyes were green, not the yellow described in the books, and there was a small bump on its head — but the aura was unmistakable.

It's a basilisk.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a glance.

"Helena. Bite."

The snake opened her mouth. Fangs gleamed.

Words exploded onto the page, frantic and rushed.

I'll talk! Keep it away!

Why can you command a basilisk?!

Who are you?!

Are you of Slytherin's blood?!

"Helena, wait." She coiled around his wrist, sulking, her fangs grazing his pulse. Everyone in the room was terrified. Hall wrote: Answer my question.

A pause. Then golden letters dissolved, replaced by long stretches of black ink. Hall recognised the handwriting.

It was Ron's.

A scene formed in his mind.

Night. Ron, hunched over his desk while everyone else slept, writing slowly in the diary.

"Hall is my twin brother. He's a Squib, but he's still my brother."

"We used to play this game. He'd pretend to sell me to someone, and I'd sneak away. We'd earn a few Knuts each time, then buy candy. Hall loved candy."

"He ate so much he got cavities. When Mum hid the sweets, he'd drag me around the house looking for them. And if I said no, he'd give me this pitiful look. Thought he was fierce."

"I miss him."

"I wrote to him. He never replied. Is he angry?"

"Mum said the Muggle boarding school is safe. But Hall's never been to the Muggle world. Won't he be lonely?"

"We're twins — like George and Fred. So why is Hall a Squib?"

"Is it because of me?"

The pages shifted. Ron's handwriting turned excited.

"Riddle says he can help."

"He has a way to cure Hall."

"I'd do anything. Anything."

"Just half my magic? That's nothing. Hall and I were one once."

"Is it really just drawing this circle?"

"So simple."

A diagram appeared on the page.

Dumbledore leaned in. "A sacrificial circle. Ron made a deal with it."

Hall understood. The diary had found someone desperate enough to offer everything — and Ron had offered everything for him.

He'd never expected the reason to be himself.

Before Hall left for London, his parents had sat him down. They'd asked him not to write to Ron. Not for their sake — for both of theirs. Watching Ron live the magical life through letters would be too cruel. They'd already started pulling away, making the separation easier.

Hall had agreed. He'd thought it was what everyone wanted.

He'd never known Ron blamed himself.

"Professor. Can you return the life force to Ron?"

Dumbledore cast a soundproofing charm around the diary. "Yes. I can reverse it."

"Then do it."

But Dumbledore's expression didn't change.

"What's wrong?"

The circle couldn't be opened from the outside. Even if the life force was reversed, it wouldn't reach the people inside.

Draco could break his own circle. He was awake.

Ron was unconscious.

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