Chapter 213

A hissed "Open" later, the wall slid open, and what he saw left Harry shocked to a standstill.

Because in the small otherwise empty room in front of him, the familiar form of Dean Thomas stood in front of a bubbling potion in cauldron large enough to fit a man in. But that wasn't what shocked Harry. It was the fact that Dean was holding in his arms what appeared to be a very much alive Lisa Turpin.

And in front of Harry's wide eyes, Dean turned to look at him, his eyes eerily vacant, and not even looking away, dropped the girl into the burning potion.

"NO!" Harry yelled and lunged at Dean, tackling him into the ground. But it was too late. Lisa had fallen into the cauldron.

Quickly pushing himself onto his feet, Harry quickly used Pyromancy to stop the magical fire and quickly pushed the cauldron over its stand, tipping its entire contents out onto the floor.

The creamy potion splashed onto the floor, as did Lisa Turpin, who went sliding before she stopped by the wall. Her skin had turned red, and in places had burnt severely. Pulling out his wand, Harry quickly vanished as much of the potion as he could, taking the clear lack of a brand spanking new Voldemort to mean that he still must be inside the girl's body.

It was probably too much to hope that the potion would have killed off Voldemort's soul while keeping Lisa's alive.

"Observe" he cast, kneeling down beside the unconscious girl.

LeilsdadiR Tmuorpitn (Status: Shared Body-2 Souls, Unconscious, 2nd Degree burns)

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Harry gritted his teeth. He was still in there. The name that her Observe was showing was a haphazard anagram of 'Lisa Turpin Tom Riddle'. And now he was stuck with an unconscious girl with the soul of the Dark Lord in her body, and his friend who had somehow ended up helping said individual.

Harry frowned and turned around to look at said friend. Something was off. Dean hadn't moved from the spot where Harry had tackled him down to.

"Dean?" Harry asked gingerly as he got up to his feet and walked over to where he was lying.

"Are…are you alright?" he asked, noticing with a sinking feeling in his stomach Dean's vacant unblinking eyes, and the fact that he wasn't breathing. "Ob-Observe," he cast stutteringly, and a window popped up.

Dean Thomas

(Relationship Meter-0%)

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Dean Thomas was a half-blood son of Jonathon Wright and Marie Corsaw. He grew up with his mother and stepfather until, at age eleven, he was accepted into Hogwarts. He was killed by Basilisk stare.

He is dead.

"No," Harry muttered as he read the last line, sinking onto his knees as his expression scrunched into a mask of horror, "No no no no no no no. NO!"

He suddenly shook his head, shaking off the tears that had started forming near his eyes. Now wasn't the time to lose himself in despair. There could be time. "He-healing touch…"

Nothing happened.

"Healing touch!" he said more forcefully, choking down the sobs that threatened to surface in his voice. Dean couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be. There had to be some way or the other to bring him back.

Again, nothing happened.

"Healing touch!" he said again. And yet again…nothing.

"Healing touch! Healing touch! Healing touch! HEALING TOUCH! HEALING TOUCH! HEALING TOUCH!" he yelled, his voice cracking as tears ran down his face, "Healing…touch…"

Suddenly, a veneer of red fell over his vision, and his tears stopped. An unfailing calm fell over his mind, and his head snapped around to look at Lisa lying a few feet away. But he didn't see the unconscious girl lying there. He saw the murderer of his parents, and now the murderer of his friend.

The ground underneath Lisa trembled before it turned fluid and started swallowing her up. Her legs went first, sinking with a cracking noise into the ground, and then it was her arms, and then her torso, until all of her that was left above the ground was her head and neck.

Harry calmly got up to his feet and walked over to stand in front of the almost entombed girl, before he pulled out his wand and snapped out an Enervate.

The eyes that opened were bright red, and somehow, completely percipient.

"You should be dead," she calmly said, although Harry clearly knew who was talking.

"So should you. Why did you kill Dean?" he asked calmly, staring unblinking and expressionless at his prisoner.

"How did you survive? She asked, her eyes gaining an odd gleam as she ignored his question, "The serpent wouldn't have let you come in here."

"She didn't have a choice."

"But the Fidelius-"

"Has no effect on me anymore."

The red eyes widened drastically before they darted over to his scar, and the girl burst out laughing. The shrill cold laughter echoed in the small room over and over again, and if in his current state Harry could have felt much of anything, he would have felt apprehensive and uncomfortable.

Instead, he simply asked, "Something funny Riddle?"