The few weeks leading up to the end of term were more exhausting than the rest of the year, including all the hallway duels. People just would not stop apologizing. They weren't even sincere about it, either- they just wanted to be in the good graces of the Boy-Who-Lived, who was no longer deemed the incorrigible Heir of Slytherin. It was so pathetic that even Harry, socially inept as he was, could see right through them. Whenever someone came up to him with the words I'm sorry on their lips, Harry just kept on walking. Or ignored them, if they were in class, since he kind of couldn't walk away at that moment.
The most aggravating thing about this entire ordeal was the people who actually meant what they were saying. They were the people who didn't need to apologize, yet they did it all the same. Fred, George, Oliver, Hermione… Well, the jury was still out on Hermione, since she did side with Ron at the beginning of this whole mess, but he accepted her well-wishes anyways. They weren't friends again, but they could at least hold a civil conversation without Harry wanting to bash his head in.
Harry was offered his spot back on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and Oliver was literally in tears when the boy refused. Apparently, their new Seeker was absolute pants, and they needed Harry's skill if they ever wanted to see the Quidditch Cup again. Unfortunately, Harry simply did not want to be around Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet- not that he said as much to Oliver. He simply told the Captain that he lost interest in Quidditch. He felt a bit bad when the Fifth Year started sobbing, but there wasn't much he could do without going back on his word.
So, Harry awkwardly patted the older boy on the shoulder, and went on his way.
Ron was an even bigger idiot than Harry thought. The redhead plopped down next to him one day in Transfiguration- which he hadn't done since November- and immediately began babbling about the latest Quidditch Match. Harry asked him what he was doing, and Ron looked confused.
"I'm telling you about last week's Quidditch Match, mate."
"I understand that," Harry said patiently, "But why are you telling me?"
"We always talk about Quidditch, mate."
Harry blinked, then turned to his book and ignored Ron for the rest of the period.
Fred and George talked with him a bit more freely. They weren't being watched as closely by Angelina and Alicia, so they could get away with a bit more. Of course, considering that they had hardly talked much in the first place, things didn't change all that much, but there was less tension during their meetings, and no need for secrecy. It was nice to know that he wasn't going to hurt somebody's other relationships just by being near them.
Back to business as usual with the pranksters.
Hermione was incredibly subdued. Sometimes she sat next to him in class, and they occasionally passed comments to each other. More commonly, though, she would sit with the other Gryffindor Second Year girls, despite the fact that they seemed to make her incredibly uncomfortable. Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Fay Dunbar were incorrigible gossips, more so the former two. The latter simply went along for the ride, but all three did their best to drag Hermione away from her books and into their saucy commentaries, ignoring the bushy-haired girls obvious discomfort. However, Hermione stayed quiet.
Harry had been the balancing force between Hermione and Ron, and without him, the two were unable to get along. Hermione was too much of a know-it-all for Ron, while Ron talked about Quidditch to the point where Hermione wished she was deaf. They drifted apart very quickly once Harry was determined to be the Heir of Slytherin. Ron went to hang out with the other Second Year Gryffindor boys, while Hermione tried to isolate herself in the library. However, she'd gotten a taste of the blessing that was friendship, and found herself wanting more. So, the girl forced herself to participate in the dialogues between the other young ladies, disregarding her personal feelings.
Harry didn't know whether to pity the girl or laugh.
Things with Ginevra Weasley became a bit distorted. He did occasionally catch her staring at him in the hallways, but unlike before, she didn't flare up like a tomato and run away. Instead, she now smiled at him and waved. Her stares were less admiration, and more curiosity, which Harry preferred.
He had expected her hero-worship to become absolutely unbearable, to the point where she was literally throwing herself at him, loudly proclaiming him her knight in shining armor for the whole world to hear. Her change had been the complete opposite of that, and it had been a fairly pleasant surprise. On the off chance that they were going in the same direction, they would hold casual conversations, and it was rather nice. Neither of them brought up the incident in the Chamber, based on the silent mutual understanding that the other didn't want to talk about it. So, they stuck to Quidditch, classes, and the occasional bit of gossip.
Things were better this way.
With Ginny came Luna Lovegood, a First Year Ravenclaw. Apparently, the two lived close to each other, basically neighbors, so they'd known each other long before Hogwarts. As expected of two young girls who'd practically grown up together, they didn't let silly things like being in different Houses end their friendship. Instead, they simply treasured their rare moments together more.
Luna was a bit odd. She frequently spouted off about strange creatures which Harry had never heard of; Crumple-Horned Snorkacks being one example. Apparently, Harry was constantly being swarmed by things called Wrackspurts. What that meant, he had no clue, and every time the girl tried to explain it to him, he got a headache, so he soon stopped asking.
Other than that, Luna wore vegetable-shaped earrings, a butterbeer-cork necklace, and kept her wand tucked behind her ear. Harry wondered if it ever fell from there, but seeing the way the girl ran about, he doubted it.
Her silver eyes were quite intense, drawing Harry in every time he gazed at their watery depths, and he couldn't help but shiver at the thought of what lay below the surface. He was a bit intimidated by the girl's absentminded, yet entirely accurate comments, but pushed through it.
Nobody deserves to be shunned for being unique.
Classes went much the same, though the teachers were pushing even harder, to make up for not having the end-of-year exams. McGonagall was fiercer than a tiger, and Harry had to wonder if her Animagus form changed at some point. Flitwick's wand flashed faster than ever, his motormouth running at an extra hundred miles per hour as he tried to cram more learning into their short time left. Snape's scowl was impossibly-deeper, and he glared at Harry nearly every second of class, even when he was talking to somebody else. He was probably thinking that the boy's victory over Slytherin's Monster would inflate his already-massive ego to gargantuan proportions.
Astronomy ended with more headaches from looking through telescopes for far too long, cataloging each and every star in as many constellations as they could, then writing feet of paper on the magical significance of those stars' position in the sky relative to the Earth. It was worthless to Harry, but he did the work anyways. Harry didn't know about History, since he didn't go at all. Herbology resulted in incredibly dirty clothes, since the students were romping around in the greenhouses nearly all the time now.
Defense Against the Dark Arts managed to become even more of a mess. According to Dumbledore- who seemed rather irritated while explaining the change- Lockhart had volunteered to defeat Slytherin's Monster. When the other staff members agreed and sent him on his way, the man turned tail and fled Hogwarts. As such, the Headmaster had to take over for the remainder of the year, but at least he taught them useful things, even if they were a bunch of basic jinxes that Harry had learned long ago.
However, Dumbledore was quite the progressive, unbeknownst to nearly everyone. He did not believe is simply waiting for more advanced material to come your way to learn. Rather, he greatly appreciated those who took their education into their own hands, and sought out higher-level learning. He made this known by staging duels with students every class after he gave out the assignments. Considering they were Second Years, they hardly knew anything beyond the basic spells they covered in class. Even Hermione did not have that great of a repertoire, though that probably had something to do with being petrified for a few months, as well as wasting time with all the theory on literally everything. These duels were completely optional, and many gave up after they were thoroughly thrashed the first time.
Meanwhile, Harry, who had only been focused on dueling for the year, was able to perform a bit better. His spells were more varied, more powerful, more accurate. He was as quick a draw as he could be without a holster, and his footwork was akin to dancing. Every time the emerald-eyed boy dueled his temporary Professor, the both of them were grinning widely; Dumbledore, because he loved to see students excel- he was still a teacher at heart- and Harry, because he learned something new with every skirmish. The Headmaster was a walking treasure trove of wisdom, and every second sentence out of his mouth was some form of wisdom for those who were listening for it.
Harry and Dumbledore went back and forth every period, a river of magical light flowing between them, oblivious to the awed looks from the observing students. Of course, Harry lost every single time, but with each passing day, he was lasting a few more seconds. By the time term ended, he was up to a solid five minutes against the Headmaster, though there was no doubt the old man was holding back. Harry couldn't exactly fault Dumbledore, however; he quite liked being alive, and an unrestricted Defeater of Grindelwald would crush him to a paste in an instant.
Training in the Room of Requirement was also ramping up in intensity. After his pathetic display against Slytherin's Monster, he was determined to never be in that position again. At least, that was the end goal. Obviously, as he was now, such a thing was inevitable, but that was the whole point of training.
First, physical conditioning. He began to do distance-runs around the perimeter of the castle and swimming in a pool made by the Room, to improve cardio. Then, push-ups, sit-ups, and other workouts to improve his strength without putting on much muscle. So long as he could move his own body with ease, then that was fine. He didn't need to become a hulking beast with the strength to move a mountain, since speed was the aim. The faster he could move, the more spells he could dodge, and the less energy he'd have to waste on shielding.
Sword-fighting was a bit touchy. He had to start with a heavy stick, since the thought of swinging around a silver blade without any clue what he was doing was slightly terrifying. Harry much preferred being intact. He trained against another wooden dummy, courtesy of the Room. It was similar to the dolls he used for magical duels- which he could now handle four of- but this one also carried a large stick. At first, their bouts didn't last long, since Harry's arm wasn't used to swinging around that weight, but he eventually became accustomed to it. The next thing to figure out was technique. According to a book supplied by the Library, there were a few basic moves he had to learn to counter, because nearly all swordsmen used them. He'd have to burn those skills into his muscle memory, so he could perform them instinctively. He couldn't fight effectively if he was hyper-focused on every single motion he made, after all.
Harry didn't know if there was even any use for learning how to fight with a sword, considering this was a wand-dominated society. However, now that he was the owner of the Sword of Gryffindor, he felt obligated to at least try.
Harry was still reading about new spells, and constantly devising ways to use them in his fights. He tore through the Library, borrowing books with almost the same frequency as Hermione, even it wasn't anywhere near the same volume. His latest favorite spell had to be the Exploding Charm. Specifically, the advanced version; Bombarda Maxima. The sheer amount of destruction it caused had Harry weak in the knees. If he'd known this back in the Chamber of Secrets…
His newest dueling book, Dueling for the Adept- which was the second in the series- described ways to speed up spellcasting drastically. First, shortening the wand strokes. The motions were described as another method of focusing the magic into the spell you wanted, alongside incantations. At their core, spells were intent-based. If you wanted it enough, then it would happen, which was the main reason for accidental magic. For some reason, this manner of casting was described as incredibly difficult for even the most experienced duelists, but Harry was simply not seeing the problem.
As far as he understood, all you had to do was really want something to happen, and it would. And Harry really wanted to lay waste to his enemies. Or to win. Whichever worked. Either way, he was able to do silently, single-move casting, and his dueling potential skyrocketed from there. Dumbledore had been surprised the first time Harry utilised it in class, but he smiled brilliantly and upped the difficulty of their matches. It was exhilarating, and further increased Harry's drive to become better upon seeing that his efforts had been noticed and respected.
"Open."
Dumbledore shuddered a bit at hearing his student hiss. Harry noticed, but didn't say anything. The Headmaster hadn't reacted like anyone else; he just looked sad. Since Harry couldn't understand why, he said nothing, and the two descended the stairs to the Chamber of Secrets.
In the initial hallway, Dumbledore stumbled upon seeing the first of the shedded snake skins. He tossed a Lumos into the air, and stepped closer to rub a hand across the scales. After a bit of quiet muttering, he turned, and the two continued down the hallway.
In the Chamber, Dumbledore actually tripped, falling to the stone floor. Harry shouted in surprise, and helped the old man up.
"By Merlin…" the Headmaster breathed reverently, "Do you mean to tell me you killed that monstrosity with the Sword of Gryffindor?"
"Yeah. Trust me, it was harder than it looked. I would've died if not for Fawkes."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Fawkes has been quite helpful throughout my many years. I was quite lucky to find him as a companion."
They strode closer, and Dumbledore hit the corpse with a number of obscure spells. He froze once he interpreted the subsequent lightshow, then lowered his shaking wand hand.
"I had hoped I was wrong; that it was simply a snake that had undergone many rituals, or been fed an assortment of potions to catastrophic effect… Mr. Potter, did you know this is a Basilisk?"
"A what?"
"A Basilisk. A Class XXXXX magical creature, bred for the first time by Herpo the Foul, a Dark Lord in Ancient Greece. The Basilisk is known for having the most potent venom in both the Magical and Muggle Worlds, and… A stare which kills its victims instantly upon eye contact."
Harry stiffened in shock, then chuckled nervously. "Surely you're having me on, Headmaster? I looked it right in the eye for a long time, and I think I'm fine…"
The old man whipped around to gape at his student. "What!?"
Harry took a step back, slightly frightened by the intensity of Dumbledore's frantic gaze.
"Y-yeah? I made eye contact the first time I saw it. Didn't feel a thing, honest."
"...Perhaps it is because you are a Parselmouth. Herpo the Foul did not die because of his creation, and records indicate that he never knew it could do such a thing until it happened to one of his slaves. Yes, I believe that the magic of being a Parselmouth must have protected you from the death stare, or we would not be having this conversation."
Harry nodded wordlessly.
"Now, do you know if there are any other sections of the Chamber?" At the negative response, Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Well, then I believe we have something of a scavenger hunt on our hands."
Dumbledore had Harry speak Parseltongue to just about every brick in the chamber, as well as all the stone snakes, and finally, the statue of Slytherin. That got a response. The mouth of the statue opened slowly, the jaws pried apart by an invisible force. The sound of stone grinding against stone tore at Harry's ears, and he grimaced the entire way through. It stopped with jarring force, sending a tremor through the Chamber.
Dumbledore levitated the both of them to the opening, and they stepped in warily, wands at the ready. After a short conversation, they decided for Harry to go first, because he was the one with the built-in Basilisk protection. The Headmaster held a powerful Lumos above their heads like a torch, and they creeped forward.
It took a long time to reach anything of note, which was a circular room. It was completely bare, with nothing on the walls except some weathered cracks. The air was stale, lifeless, and full of dust. Dumbledore launched a few powerful cleaning spells, and the two could breath easily again.
With the particles cleared from the air, it was possible to see the round object in the center of the room. It was white, more of an oval than a sphere…
"Headmaster, is that what I think it is?"
"If you mean a Basilisk egg, then yes, I do believe it is."
"Oh, so I'm not absolutely mad. That's nice to know."
"...Mr. Potter, I am fairly certain we have a bigger problem at hand than that."
"I mean, yeah, but it's just an egg. Can't exactly hurt anyone right now, you know?"
And, of course, the egg chose that moment to break open. The baby snake hissed, the noise echoing through the dead-silent room. It poked through the hole in the egg shell, and slithered out, covered in fluids. The snake turned to them, and Dumbledore immediately closed his eyes.
"Mr. Potter, quickly! Destroy it!" Dumbledore cried, backing up a few steps. For a few minutes, he heard nothing besides the tapping of Harry's shoes against the ground. No flashes of light shone through his wrinkled eyelids, no dying wails of the baby Basilisk. Instead, he heard… Hissing?
"Mr. Potter!?" Dumbledore shouted. He wasn't going to risk peeking, so he could only play it by ear. He also couldn't just randomly toss spells, due to the very high chance of hitting Harry. Not an ideal situation at all.
"Headmaster…"
Dumbledore swallowed upon hearing the dazed, breathy tone of his student. The fact that the boy was talking at all lifted his spirits slightly, but not by much. "Y-yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Can I keep it?"
"I… Frankly, I'm not quite sure what to say, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore admitted, once the two were back in the Headmaster's Office.
"That's fine. You don't have to say anything, you know."
The old man shot the boy a baleful stare, and received a cheeky grin in response. Dumbledore shook his head.
"I cannot believe you managed to talk me into allowing you possession of a newborn Basilisk."
"Don't worry, Headmaster. I'm going to be talking you into a few more things soon. For starters, can I stay at Hogwarts for the summer?"
"...What."
"Can I. Stay. At Hogwarts. This summer."
"Yes, I heard you the first time, my boy- despite my age, my ears are still functioning quite well. What I wish to know, is why?"
Harry seemed shocked, as if astounded by the sheer audacity of the Headmaster. "You mean you don't know?"
Now the old man was getting slightly annoyed. "No. I believe that was the purpose of my asking for your reason."
"Seriously? You think I want to stay with the Dursleys?"
"Mr. Potter, they are your family. Surely, they are not that bad?"
Harry stared at him, face suddenly blank, devoid of anything resembling emotion. "Headmaster, they have systematically abused me, physically, mentally, and emotionally since the time I could walk- and probably beforehand, knowing them. They are the absolute worst sort of people, and take a disgusting amount of pleasure in causing me pain. Aunt Petunia forces me to do every bit of manual labor she can find, under threat of bludgeoning by pots and pans, which she has followed up on many times. Uncle Vernon takes advantage of every mistake I make, no matter how inconsequential, to beat me to a bloody pulp, and has not been shy about breaking bones in the past. Dudley has gathered up the other kids in the neighborhood to form some sort of gang, whose sole purpose is to run me down and kick me around whenever I set foot outside. I was frequently starved, often going for consecutive days without food. During those times, I was also locked up in a tiny boot cupboard underneath the stairs, with hardly any light, and absolutely no human contact. Besides that, they have never, not once, said a kind thing to me. Before my acceptance to Hogwarts, I was led to believe that my mother was a drunken whore who sold her body for drug money, and my father her abusive pimp, both of whom died in a car crash while high out of their minds. Before my first day of primary school, I thought my name was Freak, because that was all they ever called me. The only reason I found out otherwise was because of roll call. They know that I cannot perform magic outside of school, for fear of expulsion from Hogwarts, and make use of that to hurt me to their heart's content without any fear of retribution. What part of that sounds not that bad to you?"
The Headmaster was stunned. For a long while, he was silent, before he rose to his feet. The air around him crackled dangerously, and sparks of thunder flashed in his eyes.
"Dear boy, I do believe I have a visit to make."
"Mr. Potter… Harry… I have a confession to make."
Harry tilted his head, staring quizzically at the old man, whose electric-blue eyes were swimming with emotion.
"I was the one who placed you with Dursleys. Professor McGonagall insisted that I not do it, but I was too stubborn, thinking myself in the right. It was after that fateful Halloween, when you were marked by Voldemort. At the time, things in Magical Britain were tense. Many did not believe that Voldemort was truly gone, and as such, continued fighting a meaningless war. However, I knew, that sooner or later, they would come to know the truth. Specifically, the Death Eaters. I feared that they would attempt to finish what their master started, and pursue you to the ends of the Earth to do so. I knew that placing you with any magical family would only broadcast your location, as well as paint a target on your hosts' backs. So, I went where I knew the Death Eaters would never think to look; the Muggle World. The reason I placed you with Petunia was twofold; firstly, they were your legitimate family. I had truly believed they would be able to look past Petunia's animosity for Lily, and care for you as their own, which I now know to be completely and utterly foolish. Secondly, I layered the property with Blood Wards, keyed to Lily's blood, for the purpose of repelling wizards and witches with ill-will towards you. They were immensely strong, and the reason why no Death Eater has been able to find you during the summers, and before entering Hogwarts… Unfortunately, I failed to take into account the Muggles who may wish you harm, and for that, I can only offer my most humble apologies."
Dumbledore bowed his head, hands in his lap, waiting for the words of the boy who had nearly been destroyed by his machinations.
"Yeah, apologies are nice and all, but they're kind of useless, you know?"
The old man flinched as if struck, grimacing beneath his thick beard.
"So, if you want to make up for it…"
Dumbledore leaned forward, desperate to hear these words and do his best to fix his mistakes, to atone for his grievous sins.
"You have to teach me Occlumency."
"How did you hear of that, Mr. Potter!?" Dumbledore cried, head snapping up in astonishment.
"It was in one of my books; Dueling for the Advanced. Why are you so shocked?"
"It's just… Under the Ministry of Magic's laws, that branch of magic has been deemed dark magic, and therefore illegal to practice. All mentions of it were supposed to have been erased…"
"Really? I found that book in the Library, though… Granted, it was in the Restricted Section, and it's quite old- nearly falling apart at the seams."
Dumbledore sighed. He thought about reprimanding the boy for outright admitting to breaking the rules, but realized that there was only one for him to have done it without Madam Pince disabling the wards; James Potter's Invisibility Cloak. If that were the case, then that meant Dumbledore was enabling the boy, and it would be somewhat embarrassing if Harry made that connection. So, he decided against scolding the boy, instead settling for simply commenting, "Well, it seems the Ministry was not as thorough in their censorship as they would have liked. Still, are you sure that is what you would like? It is not an easy task, and can take many years…"
Harry shrugged. "I've got time- I'm only twelve, you know. Besides, apparently it gives you photographic memory, which I quite like the sound of."
The Headmaster smiled a bit, enjoying the innocent curiosity in his student's voice.
"Well, considering you will be staying here over the summer, I think we will be able to work something out."
"Wonderful. If that's everything then, Headmaster?"
"I do believe it is, dear boy. And, Harry?"
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"Thank you, for not holding a grudge." The old man poured as much sincerity into those words as he could, even gently flaring his magic to emphasize his point.
"Of course," Harry said, shrugging once more. "It's kind of useless to worry about something that you can't do anything about. Plus, you're doing your best to make up for it, so it's all fine."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I wish many people had half the wisdom you do, my boy. A good day, Mr. Potter."
"I'll see you around, Headmaster."
"I'm going to miss you, Harry. You're sure you won't visit the Burrow?" Ginny asked, wrapping the emerald-eyed boy in a quick hug.
"Yeah, I'm gonna be a bit busy these next few months," Harry replied, patting the redhead on the back. "I'll do my best to owl when I can, though, so it's not like you won't hear from me."
"Reading words on a paper rarely compares to having a conversation in person, Harry," Luna said, taking her turn to embrace the boy.
"I know, Luna. Don't worry, I'll owl you as well. And remember, I'd like a yearly subscription to the Quibbler for my birthday- I'm sick of the drivel in the Daily Prophet."
"Of course, Harry. I'm sure Daddy will be more than pleased," Luna said, smiling brilliantly. Harry ruffled her silver hair, marveling at how pixie-like she was.
"Well, you girls best get going- don't want all the good compartments to be taken, right?"
With a jaunty wave and final farewells, the young ladies were gone.
"Oh?"
"What's this we see?"
"Is the marvelous?
"The stunningly handsome?
"The absolutely fantastic Harry Potter?"
"Cozying up to ickle Ginny?"
"Come off it, mates." Harry smiled, shoving the Twins gently. They staggered back dramatically, looking for all the world like they had been shot by a Muggle firearm. "She's not so bad once she isn't fantasizing about being Mrs. Ginevra Potter every second of the day."
"You're telling us, mate!"
"Least you didn't have to live with her back then!"
The three shared a final laugh, and the Weasley terrors boarded the Hogwarts Express.
"I suppose I'll see you next year, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously, fretting with the hem of her shirt.
"Depends on if I survive. You know me- I'm a magnet for trouble."
"Harry, that's horrible!"
Harry just laughed. "Looks like Lavender and Parvati are waiting for you. I'll see you in September, 'Mione."
He turned around to head back to the castle, but was surprised when arms encircled his torso from behind. Hermione's chin rested on his shoulder for a moment, and he could feel her face burning against his own.
"Bye, Harry," she whispered into his ear, then let go and took off running, her shoes clicking against the stone floor. He scratched at his cheek in confusion, but didn't turn around to watch the bushy-haired girl's retreat.
"Maybe next year will be better?"
"What do I name you, hm?" Harry wondered out loud, scratching the crown of his newest pet's head. He was sitting in the Chamber of Secrets, since the Headmaster would only permit him to keep the creature if he didn't take it out of here.
Mother, the Basilisk hissed, tongue flicking out to brush up against his hand.
"I do wish you would learn my name, though… How about Naga? Short, simple, and fairly easy to pronounce. What say you, Naga?"
Mother.
"Right. You can't formulate sentences yet. How annoying… Whatever. I now dub thee Naga. Now, I've wasted enough time down here. I'm going to the Room to do some drills. Go to sleep, or whatever you do. See you later, Naga."
Mother.
"So, how do we start this, Headmaster?"
"Have you done as I instructed, and worked on clearing your mind?"
"Yeah. Wasn't that hard, considering I tend to not think most of the time, so…"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, that would explain how you end up in trouble as often as you do." Harry squawked indignantly. Dumbledore looked Harry straight in the eye, and the two were whisked away into the boy's mind.
They were in a room. Perfectly empty, walls and floor made of simple stone. No door, no windows. Light came from an invisible source.
"Hullo, Headmaster!" Harry cried, appearing next to the old man. He tottered about, keeping half an eye on Dumbledore, who was busy examining the room.
"Hm, not even a crack- not that I can see, at least. This is quite well done, Mr. Potter. With this, we can move onto the next phase."
Pulling out of his student's mind, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Harry blinked, and seemed dazed for a moment, before shaking his head to clear the fog.
"Alright there, dear boy?" the Headmaster asked, amused. It was a common reaction for those not experienced in the Mind Arts.
"Yeah, I think. Just took me a moment to get out of there… Is it possible for a person to be trapped within their own mind?"
Dumbledore stroked his long beard, pondering the question. "I presume it might be, though I've never heard of a case where they were accidentally trapped. Rather, it is far more common for an adequately-accomplished Occlumens to purposefully separate their mind from their body during times of incredible physical duress, to escape from the discomfort, and being unable to reconnect them. Sometimes, through the use of Legilimency, it is possible to retrieve the free-floating mind, but many times the person is too far gone."
Harry shivered. "Well, it's a good thing I'm used to pain. Wouldn't want to be doing something like that."
Dumbledore frowned at the admission, but could not actually refute it. "Yes, I suppose. Though it is unfortunate, your past experiences have made you much stronger." Harry nodded, seemingly not uncomfortable with the topic at all, so the old man took heart. "Now, you will be using your newfound control over your mind to organize your memories. You can do so however you like, but I've found the most common way to do so is to group them together in ways that make sense to you. Also, memories can be copied, so they can be placed in two groups. For example... The Stunning Spell can be placed in both Dueling Spells and All Spells I know. Are you following, my boy?"
Harry tilted his head this way and that, before nodding hesitantly. "I guess, but it'll probably take a while. Can I do a little bit now so you can check my progress?"
"Yes, you may. I will get some paperwork out of the way in the meanwhile, so you don't need to worry about disturbances."
Back in Harry's mind, Dumbledore noticed that there were now things in the room. Specifically, several sheets of parchment stuck to the wall. The Headmaster walked over and read a few. The Stunning Spell, Shield Charm, Disarming Charm, and many other spells useful for dueling.
Then, the room shifted, and along with it came a new set of parchment. The same spells from before were there, as well as things not exactly useful in battles. For example, the Unlocking Charm. Dumbledore smiled- it seemed the boy had taken his words to heart. However, his methods were a bit strange. He retreated back to the physical world to speak with his student.
"Mr. Potter, I must say that your way of doing things is quite... Odd."
Harry blinked, confused. "How do you mean, Headmaster?"
"Well, normally, an Occlumens will keep all their memories at the forefront of their mind, but simply partition them with doors, or different rooms and levels of a building, accessible by stairs. That is not exactly what I saw in your head- it seems that you hide away the memories you are not using at the moment."
"What? No I'm not. I'm just focusing on those ones. There's a difference… I think." Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow, and Harry grumbled a bit. "Go back in and see- I'll show you!"
The old man did so, chuckling quietly at the ire in the boy's tone.
He was back in the room of dueling spells. However, just when he was wondering if anything had changed, two of the adjacent walls dropped out, revealing a massive expansion to this room. As far as Dumbledore could see, an incredible amount of paper littered the floor. Some of it was stacked neatly, some of it tossed there in haphazard piles- there was even a Muggle filing cabinet!
"I told you!" Harry said petulantly, appearing next to the Headmaster with his arms crossed.
"Yes, I suppose you did, dear boy. Mind telling me what you did?"
"I just dropped away the wall. That stuff was always there."
Dumbledore tilted his head, slightly confused. Normally, mental walls were meant to be unmovable, unbreakable, the first line of defense. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone use them simply for separation.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand… Tell me, Mr. Potter, what exactly was your inspiration for this mindscape? You need not answer if you don't want, since I understand that it may be personal."
"Personal? No, not really. It's the Room of Requirement, Headmaster."
"... The what?"
"So this is where you have been throughout the year? I had thought you were sleeping in one of the abandoned classrooms, to be honest."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "How'd you know I wasn't in the Tower?"
"Ms. Granger reported it to Professor McGonagall, who reported it to me. She was quite worried when you didn't turn up for an entire week."
"Oh. Well, I'm not going back, since the Room is much better."
"If that is what you wish, then I'll not stand in your way. Now, if you could explain the workings of this room? I'm afraid I was unaware of its existence until today."
"Really? I thought you always knew. The House Elves did, so I just figured… Whatever. All you have to do is think of what you want, and if the Room has it, you'll get it. Like, I used it for a bedroom, bathroom, and training area. There's also the Room of Hidden Things, which is where most of the random stuff comes from."
With those words, the Room of Requirement shifted so fast that Dumbledore couldn't comprehend it. One moment, they were standing in a blank room that greatly resembled Harry's mindscape when he emptied it of all thought, then they were in a place with veritable mountains of miscellaneous objects. He saw clothes, books, potion vials, an assortment of rusted weaponry, trunks, various pieces of furniture, and all sorts of bits and bobs. It was astounding.
"Well, I suppose I can understand your inspiration. This is truly marvelous… The pinnacle of spacial alteration. To think, all this and more fit into one area, which can change size as necessary… It is unfortunate that you do not have more information, dear boy."
"Well, if you want information…"
The Room shifted again. The many piles of objects vanished, leaving behind an empty cavern. A massive trenched was carved into the floor, separating the cave in two with a river. However, it wasn't an ordinary river. What looked like glowing, bright blue water, was not water at all. It wasn't even liquid. It was…
"Magic… This is a Leyline…" Dumbledore muttered reverently, taking a hesitant step forward. The old man noticed the unevenness of the floor beneath his shoes, looked down, and gasped once more. Covering the floors, and even crawling up the walls, were enough runes to fill Hogwarts' Library. They were tiny, carved with precision rarely seen in the modern day.
"A what?" Harry asked, reminding the old man of his presence.
"A Leyline. An incredibly high concentration of magic originating from the Earth's core. Hogwarts itself is built upon three of them, which contributes to its nearly impenetrable defenses. Even if the Room of Requirement has access to only one, it would explain how it has the energy to do what it does without draining the castle's wards."
"Who goes there!?" a voice yelled, startling both the boy and the Headmaster. They jumped, whipping around to find the voice. It seemed to originate from the far side of the cavern, which was rife with pillars.
Warily, the two walked over, wands at the ready. They turned a few corners, eyes flitting over every surface as they circled each pillar individually. There was nothing on any of the columns, but they did find something in the small section of the cave behind the numerous spires. It was a portrait on the wall, depicting a woman. As expected of a magical portrait, it was animated.
The woman had jet-black hair, flowing down her shoulders and back, long enough that it fell out of sight. A tiara adorned her forehead. A gold-trimmed blue robe hung on her shoulders, with a low cut that exposed her collarbones. She might have been beautiful, if not for the intense frown lines marring her face.
"I say once more, who are you!?" she shouted, scowling thunderously.
Harry and Dumbledore exchanged glances, tucking away their wands, and the old man stepped forward.
"Greetings, madam. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Might I ask for your name in return?"
She seemed to become angrier. "Can't you read, you daft bastard!?" She gestured wildly to the plaque at the bottom of her portrait.
Rowena Ravenclaw.
Ravenclaw's yelling echoed around the Headmaster's Office, greatly disturbing anything with intelligence. Fawkes tucked his head into his wings, eventually vanishing in a flash of fire when he couldn't handle it anymore. The Sorting Hat sounded like it was crying. The other portrait frames lining the walls were empty, their inhabitants having fled, and Harry felt like it would be a good idea to follow their lead.
"If it's all the same to you, Headmaster, I think I'm just gonna go…"
Harry rose to his feet, but a flick of Dumbledore's wand had him back in his seat, glowing ropes tying him to the chair. Harry gaped in shock and betrayal, but the Headmaster just glared at him for even daring to run. He would not be left to suffer alone!
While Harry was sulking in his restraints, Dumbledore finally threw up a Silencing Charm, and the portrait quieted down against her will. Her artificial face went red with rage, blood vessels threatening to tear through her painted skin and spew crimson dye everywhere.
"I do believe you have had enough. Now, are you going to be civil, or shall I simply leave you like that?" Dumbledore asked irately. He was not a saint, and he most definitely did not have the patience of one.
Ravenclaw crossed her arms, glaring daggers at the old man. However, she finally closed her mouth. Nodding in finality, Dumbledore waved his wand once more, cancelling his spell. The painting drew in a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself.
"I'll have you know I do not appreciate your treatment of me," Ravenclaw said, voice choked and shaking with barely-restrained anger.
"And I do not appreciate your attempts to blow out our eardrums, so the feeling is mutual," Dumbledore shot back with surprising vitriol. "Now, what were you doing in that cavern?"
She rolled her eyes. "What do you think, you-!" She stopped when Dumbledore's wand rose in the air once more. "...I was placed there by my original self to be of assistance should the runes of the Room ever falter. They are all tied together, so in the event that any are tampered with, the hidden entrance will become visible, and the cavern will be brought to the forefront for ease of access."
"And what if the switching mechanism is destroyed?"
"That particular set is protected by shields linked to the castle itself. So long as Hogwarts stands, then the Room of Requirement will function. Now, it is my turn to ask questions! Where do you get off, dragging me out of there!?"
"You just so happen to be the only portrait of one of the Four Founders which we have ever found- of course we are going to bring you somewhere we can make use of you!"
Ravenclaw's glare was positively scathing. "If you wanted someone to chit chat with, then why don't you find one of the others!? Go get Salazar from his filthy Chamber! He's a lonely bastard, he'll jump at the chance to talk with someone! Or better yet, get Helga from her kitchens; she'd be too drunk to get mad! Now, put me back in the cavern!"
"Wait, we already checked the Chamber of Secrets!" Harry piped up. "The only thing we found was Naga's egg!"
Dumbledore tilted his head. "Naga?"
"Yeah, that's what I named him. It's nice, right?"
"Obviously you wouldn't find it, you fool!" Ravenclaw interrupted, looking like she was tempted to throw the book in her hand at him. "He put a password on the room hiding it. He told me the password in English; Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four! That arrogant sod, the only thing he was great at was pissing off everyone around him! Not that I expect you'll be able to make use of it, since he had it keyed to Parseltongue, and that ability is incredibly rare."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "How else do you think we got into the Chamber?" he asked innocently. Ravenclaw opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, looking incensed.
"Listen here, you worthless-!"
"And that's enough of that!" Dumbledore cried, putting up another Silencing Charm. He turned to Harry. "Well, dear boy, you heard her. Would you like to go down to the Chamber and find Slytherin's portrait, while I go find Hufflepuff's?"
"See, I would, but somebody thought it'd be a good idea to tie me to this chair."
"Oh! My apologies, Mr. Potter. I forgot about that."
Harry glared at him, and finally rose. "Even if I do find it, how am I gonna get to it if it's somewhere high up? I don't know anyone self-levitation spells."
"... I hadn't thought of that. Looks like we will have to-"
Fawkes chose that moment to reappear in a swirl of fire, perched on Harry's shoulder. Thankfully, the phoenix didn't appear in actual fire, or half of Harry's face would have been burned.
"Or Fawkes could assist you! Marvelous timing, old friend!" Fawkes chirped happily at the praise, then poked Harry with a wing tip.
"Well, let's be on our way, dear boy."
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!" Harry shouted, his hissing echoing throughout the Chamber. Far above him, the jaw of Slytherin's statue began to grind open, and Harry stared at it, confused.
"Maybe it's the same as the Room, and different sections open for different phrases?" he asked Fawkes, who merely squawked in response.
Mother, Naga said, from his position wrapped around Harry's shoulders like a scarf. The boy ignored that, holding a hand out to grab onto one of Fawkes' skinny legs. The phoenix began beating its wings, and the two lifted off the ground with ease. They touched down in the stone mouth, and Harry tossed a Lumos into the air. This time, there was no tunnel at the back of Slytherin's throat. Instead, there was a wall, and fixed right in the center, as Ravenclaw had said, was the portrait of the Founder himself.
"Hullo?" Harry called, inching forward. Slytherin was a middle-aged man, evident by the bald patch on the top of his head. However, he still had shoulder-length black hair running down the sides and back, which was slightly shiny with grease. His face was clean-shaven, not even an ounce of stubble visible. His skin was pale, almost sickly, cheeks slightly gaunt. His eyes, however, held power- enough to make Harry shiver. They were a brilliant emerald-green, and would have likely glowed had this not been a painting. He wore green robes, with a gray cloak draped over his shoulders. A gold locket adorned his neck.
Slytherin blinked, seemingly startled by the noise. "Hello?" he replied, head tilted quizzically. "Who are you?"
"I'm Harry Potter. I've been sent to fetch your portrait."
"Well, by all means, do so with haste, young man! I'm quite sick of being holed up down here- honestly, I don't know what I was thinking, placing my portrait in here. The height of madness! How is Basil, by the way?"
"Who?"
"Basil? My Basilisk? Last I saw her, she was only… Oh, I'd say about ten feet in length, but I don't know how long it's been since then."
"...Oh. This is awkward."
"What? Why?"
Rather than respond, Harry flicked his wand at the portrait, Levitating it off the wall, and bringing it towards the front of the statue's mouth. He angled it, so Slytherin could see all the way to the ground.
"Is that Basil!?" he cried, seemingly overjoyed. "She's gotten so large! Basil! Look here, Basil!"
The Basilisk did not move.
"Boy, why isn't she answering me?" Slytherin asked, sounding distressed. He continued calling to the corpse, and Harry took pity on the portrait.
"She's, uh… Basil's dead, sir."
"W-what?"
"A few months ago, someone ordered her to start attacking students. I had to kill her, or the school would've been shut down."
"Y-you couldn't talk her down?"
"I tried, but I think the other Parselmouth had full control of her, because she wouldn't even respond."
And then the sobbing started. Slytherin's wails were loud and ugly, his keening gasps raising to high enough pitch that Harry began to develop a headache. He exchanged an awkward glance with Fawkes, who merely ruffled his feathers.
"S-she was my baby! My only friend! Why-y-y!?"
Harry pursed his lips. A flick of his wand sent Naga down to the floor far below. Then, he grabbed onto Fawkes with one hand, and Slytherin's crying portrait with the other. In a flash of flames, they vanished from the Chamber.
Mother.
They reappeared in the Headmaster's Office, the current owner of which looked like he wanted to die. The portrait of Ravenclaw was arguing fiercely with a painting of another woman, presumably Helga Hufflepuff. She was a chubby brunette, hair pulled into two braid which hung down in front of her shoulders. She was actually rather attractive, with her gentle wrinkles and symmetrical features. Unfortunately, the image was ruined by her glazed eyes, and the wine she spilled down her front-laced yellow dress every time she took a sip from her goblet.
"All I'm sayin' Rowena, is that you could stan' to get nailed every now and then!" Hufflepuff slurred, taking a sloshing swig of alcohol.
"You can whore yourself out to as many men as you want, Helga, but don't you dare try to drag me into it!"
The cries of Slytherin interrupted the two, and the looked over to the trio of Harry, Fawkes, and portrait.
"Salazar, you absolute pansy, stop your disgusting whining!" Ravenclaw shouted.
"Oi, Sal, that you?" Hufflepuff asked. "Why don' ya come on over and show me if that snake of yours is as long as I remember?" She giggled drunkenly, winking at her fellow portrait.
At the word snake, Salazar was reminded of Basil, and his sobbing redoubled.
Harry smiled nervously. "Is this a bad time, Headmaster?"
Harry managed to successfully flee the office this time, much to the displeasure of the old man, if the disgruntled shouts to stop running, dammit! were any indication. Whatever knowledge the Founders may have, it wasn't worth putting up with that.
"Jeez, it's only been a week, but so much has already happened… Maybe I should write to Ginny and Luna?" he wondered out loud. Deciding that was a good idea, since he had nothing else to do at the moment other than train, he went to do just that. He ran to the Room of Requirement, and summoned two pieces of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. He sat down at a table, and began writing.
Ginny,
How's life? Have Fred and George driven you up the wall and around the bend yet? Have you decided on whether or not you want to play on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team next year? I think you should, since the current Seeker- whose name I don't actually know- is apparently pants. Oliver was even begging me, on his hands and knees, to reconsider my decision to quit, so I'd say your odds of making the cut are quite good.
Is Ron still being a prat about you hanging out with me? I could send you a list of useful spells to make him shut up, if you'd like?
I've been doing fine myself. Got a new pet, but he's kind of dangerous, so I can't show him to you. If Hedwig's all out of sorts, then it's probably because she's jealous that I've been spending more time with Naga than her recently, but that's not really my fault. He only hatched a few weeks ago, so he still needs a bit of help, and Hedwig's a big girl. I don't think she'll listen to me, though, so could you try explaining that to her?
Are you prepared for next year? Since it's my Third Year, I'm starting electives, but I think the only one I'm going to take is Ancient Runes. The rest seem kind of useless. Arithmancy might sound interesting, but according to the Headmaster, it's more useful in spell creation, which I don't really care about. I really hope we get a competent Defense Professor, but I wouldn't mind if the Headmaster had to sub again. He's much better than Lockhart and Quirrell. If not, oh well. I might just start skipping that class, since it's useless to waste my time with a worthless Professor.
By the way, I'd recommend not going to History anymore, and use that time to do other, more useful things. You can just read the textbook towards the end of the year, and probably still pass the final exam. Binns doesn't do attendance, so it'd be easy. Just don't tell anyone else, since I don't know if he'll notice that he's talking to an empty classroom. Then again, knowing Binns, he probably won't.
Try not to tell anyone, but me and the Headmaster have been exploring the castle a bit, and we found the portraits of three of the Founders; Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. No clue where Gryffindor is, but that's whatever. They are absolutely nothing like what'd you expect, though. Ravenclaw yells at everything that moves, and she's incredibly rude. Hufflepuff is apparently a drunken scarlet woman, and Slytherin is an emotional mess. Last I saw, he was crying about his dead pet.
That's all from me at the moment. I'll write if anything else major happens, so bye for now.
Harry Potter
Luna,
You're probably busy out in some far away place, searching for some magical creature whose name I can't pronounce, so I'll keep this short.
How have you been? And, if you are on an expedition, where to, and what have you found so far? I've never been outside of the U.K, so I'd love to hear about what it's like in a different country.
I'm doing well myself. Staying at Hogwarts is incredibly eventful, and it's only the first week! I'm actually rather scared about what disasters I'll get into next, so if you've got any special insights, now would be the time to tell me.
That's all from me. It's fine if you don't respond, I'll just assume you don't have access to an owl wherever you are. We'll talk more in September, and I'll tell you everything I left out of this message. Bye for now.
Harry Potter
Harry was right; Hedwig was not happy with him. He forgot to bring any owl treats from his trunk as bribery, so he had to deal with nipped fingers and pecks to the head, while he tried tying the two rolls of parchment to the snowy owl's legs.
"Sorry, girl, but Naga needs a lot of help. I have to bring him food, since the Headmaster won't let him out of the Chamber, but I promise I'll spend more time with you once he's grown up enough."
That did hardly anything to quell the bird's irritation, but at least she stopped trying to maul him. It was good enough for the moment.
"Wait a bit for Ginny to give you her response, since I don't want to force Errol to fly all the way to Scotland. He's got enough problems in his old age- don't need him dying from slamming into a window, you know. And it's fine if you can't find Luna, since she might not be in the most accessible place. Just bring her letter back if that's the case."
Hedwig squawked, flaring her wings in indignation. She seemed to take it as a personal insult that Harry was doubting her tracking her abilities, and claimed retribution by clawing him in the face. While Harry was rolling around on the floor, to flee the talons consequently getting covered in owl poop, Hedwig left through the window of the Owlery, her triumphant screech echoing through the tower. Harry glared at the opening she flew out of, then got his wand and cast a few Scourgifys at his robes.
Walking back to the Room of Requirement, Harry couldn't help but wonder if his bad luck would hold true. What mess would he get into next year?
Why isn't Rita Skeeter a Legilimens? Don't y'all think that would be useful in conjunction with her Animagus form, so she could spy on people even if they weren't talking?