AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another quick update! I'm on a roll, fellows. Not much happening in this chapter, but that was inevitable — got to set things up, as it were. I hope I do Gilderoy Lockhart all the injustice that he deserves.
Chapter VI: Return to Hogwarts
It being the only thing they could realistically do, the children decided to stuff the bewitched diary into Harry's trunk, wrapped in his Invisibility Cloak, and to go check on the petrified Quirrell-Riddle hybrid in the Third Floor Corridor as soon as possible. If the petrified would-be Janus was missing, they'd know the Diary had been lying, and they'd keep an even closer watch on it. If it was still there, they'd just put the diary next to it — if this corridor could hold one of Voldemort, it could certainly hold two.
For indeed, as a matter of fact, the time to return to Hogwarts came a few days later. Arthur Weasley flew all of his children, plus Harry and Hermione, to King's Cross Station, aboard a very interesting artifact he had enchanted himself. It was a very non-standard sort of artifact, being that it was, in fact, a Ford Anglia, but it was fascinating to Hermione nonetheless — not least of which because it seemed to have a mind of its own, just like the Sorting Hat and 'Goldie' the Griffin.
The ride aboard the Hogwarts Express wasn't as peaceful as the children had hoped. Hermione realized too late that the secret of her being a Parselmouth, which he had so carelessly revealed to Draco earlier, had already spread like wildfire through the student body (a few owls went a long way). She thus spent the entire ride being harassed by stupid kids who wanted to hear her hiss. It was fun at first but quickly got boring, and the rumor that she was Voldemort's illegitimate daughter was just rude. There were only two visitors to otherwise stand out of the mass. The first was the newly-christened 'Professor' Lockhart, who burst into their compartment, cutting through the crowd with useless motions of his wand:
"DEAR FANS!" he bellowed. "You have been deceived! I, the great Gilderoy Lockhart, for whom this crowd has no doubt gathered, am not actually in this compartment."
Someone in the back (a small kid with a camera) pointed out that he was, actually.
"Well, I am now. How very perspicacious of you," retorted Lockhart with a forced smile that most of the children still found charming. "However, I have only come here to reroute my sprawling fanbase back whence I came, that is to say my actual, luxuriously-furnished compartment towards the front."
Before anyone could even begin to explain his mistake to the handsome hare-brain of a wizard, Kaiser peeked out of Harry's bag.
"Argh!" enunciated Lockhart with mostly-fake emotion, striking a pose with his wand. "A fell beast has attacked the defenseless Boy Who Lived! The horror!"
Although a few students had recoiled upon seeing the krait, most were just confused. Lockhart went on:
"Ah, but Fate smiles upon the Conqueror of the Dark Lord, for another hero, dare I say an even greater one, happened to be passing by… Gilderoy Lockhart! ME!"
He flashed a smile at the audience. Most were still completely aghast, but a few of the younger, more impressionable students were starting to be taken in. Hermione huffed.
"As I am the Defence Professor, it is my solemn duty to… hahah! Defend! Watch and learn, children, if you ever hope to match my greatness!"
With unbelievably overdramatic, swooping motions of his intricately-adorned wand, on which Hermione only now noticed he had applied golden varnish, Lockhart tried some sort of curse on Kaiser.
"Viperus Evanesco!" he declaimed in what Hermione knew was quite dreadful Latin.
Kaiser absolutely failed to vanish as Lockhart probably meant him to. However, the attention was starting to get to him, and he retreated back inside Harry's bag in annoyance.
After a moment of incertitude, Lockhart exclaimed:
"Hah-hah! Just as I, the Great Gilderoy Lockhart, planned! Observe: it is the virtue of the victor to be merciful, my young friends. I could have blasted that slithering serpent into ash with a snap, but instead I chose a controlling spell for a peaceful outcome. Now the Boy Who Lived his saved, the snake is alive, and you all are one spell and one moral lesson richer. A happy ending worthy of… Gilderoy Lockhart! Hah-hah!"
Completely forgetting why he'd come here in the first place, the selfish blabbermouth of a wizard-adventurer strode out of the room with these 'uplifting parting words':
"Remember, children — you may see me all year at the hours your time-tables will indicate, and, to boot, for a fair price, read all about my numerous adventures in my book series, The Adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart, by Gilderoy Lockhart. Seven novels, one play, an autobiography, three textbooks, and counting! Cheers!"
While most of the children and teenagers present tried to shake off the weird confusion that had settled in their mind from Lockhart's little stint, a sizable enough portion had turned over to his side and left the compartment, giving everyone else a little bit of elbow room.
This also allowed a strange first-year girl to make her way to the very edge of the crowd in the compartment — the second odd character this ride would yield. Things began innocently enough.
"Hi! I'm Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter. So, I hear you are Parselmouths?"
"Yes." groaned the annoyed Harry, who never appreciated being put into the limelight. "I'm a Parselmouth, Hermione's a Parselmouth, Ron's a Parselmouth, sort of, hell, he's a Parselmouth!…" (he was pointing at Kaiser) "EVERYBODY'S A PARSELMOUTH, THE RUMORS ARE TRUE. NOW GO AWAY."
"Oh, but I always knew the rumors were true," said Luna. "They always are. I mean, I don't have to go ask Minister Fudge to know he's part of the Rotfang Conspiracy. It's common knowledge."
"Oh?" said Hermione, making a mental note to research this Rotfang Conspiracy. "Then why did you need to come and talk to us?"
"Mostly because I want to learn Parseltongue too." answered the dreamy girl.
That wasn't exactly new (at least two others, Ravenclaws, naturally, had asked the same thing), but it was certainly interesting enough.
"And why is that?" asked Ginny (who was feeling left out as the only person in the conversation who neither was a Parselmouth or had any intention to learn).
"I have a hunch Slither-Necked Snorkacks can understand it too," answered the girl as if that explained everything.
"Oh, really? What's a Slither-Necked Snorkack, then?" asked Hermione.
"Well, no one's really sure, you see," Luna explained, "because no one's ever seen one. However, there are records of sightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkack with an unusually slithery neck, producing a faint hissing sort of noise. It is my belief, as well as that of my father, that these constitute a separate breed of Snorkack, whom we theorize may be native to Scotland."
"Uh… what's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" asked Hermione.
"That's also a bit of a mystery," said Luna. "What we know is that it's a Snorkack, it lives in Sweden, and it doesn't have a horned — well, it does, but you can't see it, because it's all crumpled."
"What's a Snorkack?" asked Hermione. The girl was simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to her in months: she raised a hundred questions and answered them all with more questions that she answered, too, ad infinitum.
"Well, it's an animal, obviously. Sort of like a cross of a nargle and a chess piece, with bits and pieces of a bugbear thrown in. Also, it glows purple in the moonlight."
"What's a nargle?"
"Glad you asked, Hermione Granger. Nargles are the mistletoe-dwelling relatives of the Australian Slashkilters…"
Another reason Luna Lovegood was the best thing that had happened to Hermione so far that day was that after a few minutes of listening in on their conversation, and with no sign of it stopping anytime soon, the other paparazzi withdrew from the compartment, clutching their foreheads. Harry, Ron and Ginny had a somewhat similar reaction, but Hermione wouldn't let them leave. (Kaiser was just taking a nap inside Harry's bag. It's not like he understood human speech, anyway.)
For Ginny and Luna's sakes, the three friends attended the Sorting Feast. Luna, as per the laws of the alphabet, was the first to go. Wearing her usual dreamy smile, she began mind-chatting with the also-smiling Hat, and Hermione could just see they were going to be here for a long time if (as she should have foreseen) Luna was indeed to type to encourage the Hat. After twelve agonizing minutes, Professor McGonagall walked closer to the Sorting Stool, looking worried.
"Hat, is everything alright?" she asked.
"What? Yes, yes; whatever are you doing here, Minerva?" answered the Hat with its real-life voice. (Luna didn't acknowledge McGonagall's presence and just kept smiling.)
"You should know, Hat, after so many years, that as the Deputy Headmistress it is my duty and privilege to attend, and even host, the Sorting Ceremony."
"Sorting?…" repeated the Hat sheepishly. "Oh! Yes! The Sorting! Forgive me, I had quite forgotten, young Miss Lovegood makes such good conversation!… Now where am I going to put you, then, Luna?"
McGonagall staggered out of sight.
It took four more minutes, and another reminder to the Hat of what it was supposed to do, for Luna to be Sorted away into "RAVENCLAW, and do drop in at any time, we'll have crumpets".
Several students later, Ginny's Sorting into 'GRYFFINDOR' went orders of magnitude more smoothly, although it wasn't wholly normal either, as Ginny came back with a message from the Hat for Hermione — general greetings and wishes of good luck, but it was rare enough as it was.
Following the Sorting, Professor Dumbledore had something or two to say.
"Ahem! Students, teachers, ghosts, portraits, gargoyles, ants, and whoever else may be listening — I have a few start-of-term notices to give all of you. The first is that Mr Filch has once again asked me to remind you that his list of banned enchanted items, which can be found pinned on the door to his office, is as binding as the rest of the school rules. I hope we are all clear."
Ron looked sheepish while Fred and George seemed absolutely outraged.
"First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all pupils. That is the main reason it is called Forbidden. Were it not forbidden, I daresay that it would be called the Permitted Forest."
A few snickers and a few gasps followed that announcement.
"Also for the benefit of first year students, the Third Floor Corridor is out-of-bounds except to those who wish to suffer a most terrible death. I will add, to those who may think they have it all figured out, that the dangers inside are different from the ones that could be found there last year. This need not concern you, because, I reiterate as this is very important — you must never go there."
Percy and other older students were a bit surprised at Dumbledore's insistance compared to the previous year. Meanwhile, Dumbledore continued:
"An exception will be made on our long-standing policy not to use magic in the corridors…"
An uproar of joy cut off the wizard's sentence. He silenced it immediately with a flick of his wand, everyone finding themselves suddenly unable to produce any sound at all. He lifted the charm almost immediately, but the silence remained.
"…an exception, as I said," continued Dumbledore, "in case you should come across a certain animated statue in the likeness of a teenage chimpanzee. The creature is not truly menacing, but it is mischievous, and it is best to allow you to Stun it if you meet it, rather than have it get you late for class."
"Uhm, that's just Dumbledore being Dumbledore, right?" Hermione asked Percy.
"I'm afraid not," said Percy. "If what I hear is correct, Professor Lockhart thought the statue — which was originally mundane in nature — was a disguised Chameleon Ghoul. Whatever spell he cast to try and subdue it seems to have backfired and given the creature sentience."
"You can accidentally give something sentience?"
"I didn't know you could, but, well, he's Gilderoy Lockhart. It's only natural that even his miscalculations should have spectacular, unheard-of effects."
That was one way of looking at it. In fact, while she and Percy were discussing him, Dumbledore had introduced the newly-appointed Defence Professor to those few who did not know him — or rather, Dumbledore had barely named the man before Lockhart himself had upstaged him and gushed on and on about himself.
{Great Basilisk, we are back from vacation!} hissed Hermione through the second door of the Chamber of Secrets.
{Hermione Granger!} answered the somehow deeper hiss of the Basilisk. {I have waited for his moment for all Summer. My eyes are closed; you may come in.}
"Right. Door, you {open}." said Hermione.
The door obeyed, and she and Harry entered the Chamber. It was still the same as last year, if a bit less grimy, the Basilisk having apparently spent part of the summer cleaning up. Hermione thought it was rather nice, and hissed as much.
{Thank you, Hermione Granger,} answered the great serpent. {I trust your Summer was pleasant enough as well?}
{Oh yes, it was quite wonderful,} said Hermione. {We have news, however. Possibly bad ones. Ginny Weasley, the sister of Ron,—}
{Does she Speak like her sibling?} asked the Basilisk eagerly.
{Uhm, no, but we have met someone who does. Or will, soon enough.} Harry informed her, Luna Lovegood still fresh on his mind. The girl had caught them for an impromptu first lesson in Parseltongue in the corridor after dinner, delaying their visit down to the Chamber.
{That is good. I will be glad to meet her,} the Basilisk said. {…but then, you were saying? About this Ginny Weasley?}
{Oh, yes. That,} Hermione was reminded. {Well, Ginny found an enchanted Diary containing some sort of spirit. It claims to be a copy of Tom Riddle, or perhaps a piece of him, I am not quite sure. Would you happen to know anything about that?}
The Basilisk trembled, shaking her head violently, as if in denial. And then, with caustic tears running from her closed eyes, she hissed:
{I am sorry, Hermione Granger, I may not ever speak to you again. The Master ordered it so for anyone who inquired about the Diary, and as you know I cannot disobey.} The torn Basilisk was choking. {Farewell, friend.}
Hermione teared up as well, instantly understanding the implications. Whatever the Diary was, it was one of Lord Voldemort's greatest secrets, important enough that he'd forbidden his Snake to interact with any who threatened it, for fear that she would give something away. It was a wonder she hadn't been ordered to kill them right there and then.
"Uhm… that's bad, right? Did I get that right?" asked Ron, who had been trying to follow the conversation but always did think Hermione spoke a bit too fast for him.
Fortunately, before the green giant could retire to reminisce alone about her lost friend, Harry spoke up, sounding rather happy with himself.
{Erm, Great Basilisk?} he said. {I am sorry, I have absolutely no idea what you and Hermione were talking about just now. I won't ask, either.}
Hermione looked at Harry with grateful, shiny eyes, and she heard the gigantic serpent slither back into view, stopping herself partway through muttering the phrase Surely that won't work, which she had sworn never to say again in relation to the young wizards' ideas after last time.
{I cannot thank you enough, young wizard, thrice-blessed your quick wits. Now, speaking purely to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, of course,} said the Basilisk, her hisses dripping with humor, {and not to any muggle-born girl who may happen to be there; and bearing in mind that all of this is a tale with no relationship whatsoever to any notepad belonging to any Master of any sort…}
Hermione took out a piece of parchment and began taking notes. Ron tried to read them to help with his oral comprehension, but found with dismay they were a bunch of tiny squiggly scribbles. This puzzled the boy for a moment (Hermione's usual script being very regular and clean) until he realized this was what written Parseltongue looked like.
{…there was a b-,} told the Basilisk — but she found herself stumped at the B. {There was a… youngling, who feared his end very much. When he had passed fifteen springs, he read from a book entitled -} (again she was stuck) {-he read from a book most foul, a way ancient wizards had devised to ch- to… to work around the Final End. The youngling had a servant, a still-standing Speaker of a serpentine sort, whom he forced to do his bidding. Through the murder of M- of a girl in a bathroom, the servant… the servant provided the sacrifice that the youngling craved.}
It didn't take a genius to puzzle that the 'servant' was the Basilisk herself, forced to carry out young Voldemort's evil bidding. And a girl in the bathroom… Hermione would have bet that was Moaning Myrtle.
The Basilisk continued her tale:
{For with arcane words and the harm of the murder, the child spl- divided his s- cut apart his ess- cut apart the core of his mind, you see. And one half was put in a D- in a certain notepad. For the book had said that as long as the half remained inside the object, even through the End, the youngling's… main self… would be anchored to the world of the living.}
…
…
…
"Uh." said Harry. "Well. Guess that explains that."
{Don't worry,} said Hermione, looking intently at the Basilisk, {and of course I am not speaking to this random Basilisk here, but to anyone else who might be listening, we have the Diary locked away safe and sound. He won't bother you.}
After Professor McGonagall handed them their time-tables, the children realized it wouldn't be long before they had to face Gilderoy Lockhart within the enclosed space of a classroom. Ron, probably for the sake of argument, tried to reassure Hermione, who was throwing a bit of a tantrum about the constantly-dropping quality of DADA teachings:
"Look, maybe the git won't be that bad."
Lockhart really was just that bad. Worse, actually.
"No, Miss Granger, don't worry," said Professor Sprout. "Mandrakes are perfectly non-sentient. Their human-like behavior is just an illusion, a way to scare predators away."
"Oh. Thank Heavens."
(Since snake fangs were used as ingredients in several potions, Hermione thought wizards didn't have the best track record of paying sapient species all due respect. She thus thought her worries had been perfectly grounded in reality. Her classmates didn't seem to think the same way, though, if the way the Slytherins were snickering at her was any indication.)
Feeling a bit bad for how they'd neglected him the previous school-year, what with the constant Riddle meetings they had occupied their evenings with, Harry pressured the others into visiting Hagrid over the week-end. The gentle giant was overjoyed, although the three were in for a surprise — the notoriously hairy Keeper of the Keys' head was bald as a baby's, down to his bushy eyebrows, although stubble was starting to reappear where his bear should have been. They didn't know whether it'd upset their big friend to mention it and danced around the issue until Harry worked up the courage to ask about it. Hagrid looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, mumbled about a fireplace accident, and changed the topic.
Very curious.
But then, what could someone like Hagrid possibly be hiding that they should be concerned about?