"NOOO!" the portrait screamed, so loud that it seemed to shake the walls.
Lily flew up out of the pool, limp as a rag and streaming water. The shape of Lianna Agnellis fell in on itself, reverting to water. It splashed onto the stone floor and streamed back into the pool.
"Mum!" Petra screamed, unable to resist reaching out to the departed shape, tears shining in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mum! Dad! I'm so sorry! I couldn't do it!"
James ran forward to the suspended shape of his sister. He reached and pulled her to him, hugging her. She was as limp and cold as death. Gently, he laid her on the floor, and placed his ear to her chest.
"Her heart's still beating!" he cried.
"You foolish girl!" the portrait roared, its face distorting grotesquely. "It is the only way! The part of me in you rebels even now! Resist at your own peril! Kill the girl! It is not yet too late!"
Petra shook her head slowly, approaching the portrait.
"You can't destroy it, Petra," James called, cradling Lily in his arms. "Look at it; other people have tried! Portraits can only be destroyed by the painter, remember?"
Petra was still shaking her head, tears streaking her face but her expression a mask of stern resolve. "That's not entirely true, James," she said quietly. With both hands, she gripped the portrait by its frame and lifted it.
"You are the host of the Gatekeeper!" the high, cold voice of Voldemort proclaimed urgently. "Even now it awaits you! You can feel its presence! You have been chosen since the time of Salazar Slytherin himself! Hundreds of years of prophecy lead to you! You cannot turn aside from the weight of that destiny! It will crush you! Turn back! All is not yet lost! It is not too late!"
"There are two people that can destroy a portrait, although the second person is rarely ever available to do it," Petra said, speaking to James and ignoring the raving voice. She held the painting out with both hands, leveling it over the rippling surface of the pool. "A portrait can only be destroyed by its painter, or if fate allows it, a portrait can be destroyed… by its subject."
"NOOO!" the portrait shrieked, and James saw the canvas bulge slightly at the force of it. Petra dropped the portrait and it fell into its reflection, splashing heavily. The voice of Voldemort's painted visage continued to scream furiously, bubbling as it bobbed for a moment. Horribly, the painted face began to run and streak, as if the liquid in the pool were acid rather than water. Paint bled over the sinking canvas and mingled with the glowing waters, diluting and thinning, drawing feathery black tendrils into the depths. The voice gurgled and faded, ran out of breath, rasped desperately, and then died, leaving only its echo in the Chamber of Secrets. The portrait frame sank out of sight and was lost forever in the bottomless pool.
"Is she breathing?" Petra asked, dropping onto her knees next to Lily.
"I don't know!" James exclaimed, hugging her wet, slight body. "She's so cold!"
Petra nodded and leveled her wand at Lily's throat. "Expelliaqua," she said firmly.
Several seconds went by, and James was sure the spell hadn't worked, but then Lily suddenly lurched in his arms. She coughed thickly and vomited a quantity of water. James helped her into a sitting position, pounding her gently on the back. She coughed more water and gasped a great, ragged breath. James was so preoccupied that he barely noticed the sense of the Gatekeeper fading from the Chamber. Its host had failed the final test. Petra had not killed for it. Weakened and silent, the Gatekeeper streamed away.
"James?" Lily croaked, looking blearily at his face. "Where am I? What happened?"
James shook his head and laughed with relief, tears welling in his eyes. "You're with me, Lil. That's all that matters."
"Hi, Petra," Lily said weakly, glancing aside. "You were great. I cried when you drank the Marsh Hag's sleeping poison."
Petra smiled wanly. "Thanks, Lily."
James and Petra helped Lily to her feet and James put his arm around her, leading her back out of the cave. Petra gathered the Invisibility Cloak but left the eerie collection of her father's clothing. She looked back only once, her face flushed and sad.
"Hey, Petra," Albus said gamely as they approached. "You feeling a bit more yourself, are you?"
Petra nodded but didn't reply. Silently, she knelt next to Albus and examined his leg.
"You're pretty good at this," James said, watching Petra tear a strip of ribbon from her dress. Carefully, she used the ribbon and a length of the broken broom to splint Albus' leg. When she was done, she stood and pulled Albus to his feet.
"Hey," Albus said, surprised. "That feels loads better. How'd you do that?"
"It's sort of a talent," Petra answered, averting her eyes. "Besides, it was just a fracture. You'll be fine in a day or so, once madam Curio has a look at that leg."
James didn't say anything, but he had the distinct sense that Petra was lying about Albus' injury. It had certainly been far more than a fracture. James himself had seen the ugly angle below Albus' knee. Now he was standing on it with the help of a simple splint. It was as if Petra meant to repay them for what had happened, but secretly, and using a rather extraordinary kind of magic.
Petra stood again, gathering the voodoo doll and the Invisibility Cloak. She looked at them in her hands. "These aren't mine," she said, and then handed them to James. "I wasn't even aware of the doll until the portrait mentioned it. I was carrying it the whole time, but somehow I barely knew it. I'm so sorry James. I don't know what else to say."
James accepted the doll and the Cloak. "You were being deceived," he answered simply.
Petra nodded morosely and looked out over the chasm. "I was," she agreed. "But mostly, I was deceiving myself. I can't deny that."
"You've got reasons to be angry and hurt, Petra," James said quietly. "That wasn't the way to deal with it—Ted wanted me to tell you that—but there are other ways. The feelings are real. You just have to figure out what to do with them, right?"
Petra nodded slowly. In the darkness, James saw one more tear track down her cheek.
"You still in one piece, Lil?" Albus asked his sister, looking her up and down. "Why are you all wet?"
Lily frowned and looked down at her sopping yellow dress. "Honestly, I don't have any idea."
"Explanations later," Albus sighed heartily, hopping on his good leg. "First, how are we going to get back across that?" He gestured toward the dark chasm.
"Same way I got here," Petra answered softly. "We walk."
Albus grimaced. "Walk? What are you? A ghost?"
"No," Petra replied, almost to herself. "Apparently, I'm the Bloodline of Lord Voldemort." She stepped forward, walking straight off the edge of the cliff. James gasped, horrified but unable to look away. Petra didn't fall however. Her footstep was supported by a small stone platform, rather like a stepping stone, that had appeared out of nowhere. She looked back, one foot still on the edge of the chasm.