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Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets
Colin's attack sparked off a revived wave of rumour and suspicion regarding the possible identity of the 'Heir' identified in the original message. The first-years were moving around gathered in tightly-knit groups as though scared they'd be attacked if any of them were left alone for longer than a few minutes. Harry noted that Ginny in particular was feeling the effects of the whole experience- Colin had apparently sat next to her in Charms-, but he could rarely find the time to talk to her; any time he tried to find her, Fred and George attempted their typical attempt of 'cheering her up' of covering themselves in fur or boils and jumping out at her (Precisely how scaring her was meant to help her get over her current fears was something Harry didn't understand, but it helped to know that not even Ron fully understood the twins' reasoning despite having known them for his entire life), and even when he managed to find her alone she seemed to ignore him for some reason, walking hurriedly past him with her head down at such a rate that he never felt comfortable following her.
The current 'semi-secret' trade in protective amulets and talismans was another issue prompting some concern at the time, but Harry only had to take a brief check at some of the items and the subsequent responses to the purchases before concluding that it didn't matter; even after buying the talismans people didn't stop being cautious about what was going on around them, so whether or not the 'protective charms' actually worked didn't matter.
The most important thing to draw his attention at this time, however, was the need to finish the Polyjuice potion so that they could question Malfoy. The Christmas holidays had provided them with a good excuse, at least- Harry and Hermione had written home to inform their parents that they were staying at Hogwarts to work on some coursework that they couldn't do at home, which was technically true enough-, particularly since Malfoy was staying as well, but the bicorn horn and boomslang skin remained absent from their small collection of ingredients, and the prospect of raiding Snape's stores was not something that he felt entirely comfortable about.
It had been swiftly decided that Hermione would be the one to actually do the stealing, given that she had the clearest idea what to look for as well as having the best chance of coming through the whole experience with minimal consequences; Ron wasn't stealthy enough to pull it off and Harry was so perpetually in the metaphorical doghouse with Snape that he'd be in far more trouble if he was caught than Hermione would be in the same situation.
Harry wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's class as the 'distraction', of course, but he supposed it could be worse; so long as he was careful to time it properly, not even Snape could legitimately 'charge' him with something that he had absolutely no evidence of (Not that he harboured any doubts about what would happen to him the next time he ended up in trouble for some reason).
Finally, the opportunity for their small 'raid' took place during the next Potions class, Harry casually ignoring Malfoy's attempt to provoke him and Ron by flicking puffer-fish eyes at them by making brief plans about what he'd do to the vividly platinum-haired boy at some later date, simultaneously keeping an eye on his Swelling Solution to try and get it to a more solid form...
Then Hermione nodded as Snape turned to examine Neville's potion, and Harry seized his chance, pulling out one of Fred's Fillibuster Fireworks and giving it a quick prod with his wand, lobbing it into the air to land in Goyle's cauldron while simultaneously using a quick Flippendo to knock over another cauldron a bit closer to him (He was hoping that the differing distances from the two targets would prompt Snape to focus his attention on another area of the classroom).
As soon as the firework hit its target, Goyle's potion exploded, showering the class, while those in front of the knocked-over cauldron- Seamus Finnigan's, Harry noted with a slightly guilty smile; he'd been aiming pretty much at random, but striking another Gryffindor's cauldron should at least limit the idea that the two 'attacks' were connected- had to move out of the way before their shoes and feet became too big for either of them to move easily.
As Snape worked to restore some degree of order and pass around a Deflating Draft- one of the few occasions where he seemed willing to help all students, even if the Slytherins got 'priority' over the Gryffindors to receive the potion-, Hermione slipped into the office, leaving Harry to carefully keep an eye on Snape while Ron- taking advantage of his currently-enlarged arm from where Seamus's cauldron had spilled over him- slipped the blackened remnants of the firework into his robes, thus eliminating Snape's only real evidence that the incident had been anything more than a freak accident.
As Hermione snuck back out of Snape's office and returned to her seat, Harry wasn't sure what made him feel cheerier; the fact that they had the necessary ingredients to continue with the potion, or the fact that Snape actually had to take points off a Slytherin for Goyle's 'mistake' (Seamus had still lost points for making things worse, but the fact remained that it was a slight victory for them).
The potion was still progressing a week later when the three of them saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board in the main entrance hall, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up.
"They're starting a Duelling Club!" Seamus said, turning to look at them with an eager grin. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind duelling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..."
"What; you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Ron said, smiling slightly at the idea even as he couldn't help but study the parchment himself out of interest at the idea.
Returning to the great hall that evening at eight o'clock, the three of them were surprised to see that the traditional long tables had vanished, the hall now being replaced by a golden stage along one wall lit by thousands of candles floating overhead, most of the school excitedly assembled before it.
"I wonder who's teaching us?" Hermione asked, looking at the crowd around them with an eager curiosity as they stared at the stage. "Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young; he seems like the most obvious candidate.
"Just so long as it's not- oh, nuts..." Harry began, his hopes of an interesting experience being cut short at the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart walking onto the stage in deep plum-coloured robes, followed by Snape in his traditional black with a scathing sneer on his face as Lockhart called for attention.
"Now," Lockhart said, once he had everyone looking at him- Harry couldn't believe some of the sickening expressions on the faces of some of the girls in the room; if it wasn't for the sceptical expressions on Hermione and Ginny's faces that made it clear they didn't completely buy what Lockhart was trying to sell he would probably have tried something drastic (Whether to himself or Lockhart he wasn't sure)-, "Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works."
Harry was already beginning to contemplate walking out of the hall before this went much further; if this was just another opportunity for Lockhart to show off, he wasn't going to give the guy further ammunition.
"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued, flashing a wide smile as he indicated the Potions master with an unnecessary flourish. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"
"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear.
Privately, right now Harry was more inclined to route for Snape more than anything else; Lockhart might just be a prat compared to Snape's more evident grudge against him, but at least Snape actually taught something useful when he wasn't making his evident distaste for anything that wasn't a Slytherin clear to his students...
As Lockhart and Snape bowed to each other- Snape merely inclining his head while Lockhart made a more overly-elaborate gesture involving swirling his hands-, Harry barely paid attention to Lockhart's talk about wands in 'accepted combat positions'- he somehow doubted he'd ever be in a position where he'd be worried about duelling etiquette; if he ever ended up fighting for his life again (As he probably would if Voldemort was still around), he doubted anyone would be interested in the rules)-, his attention only returning to the demonstration when Snape yelled out "Expelliarmus!" and aimed his wand at Lockhart, blasting the other teacher off his feet as his wand flew out of his hand, Lockhart coming to a halt only when his flying body hit the wall behind him.
Despite his typical anti-Snape attitude, Harry briefly contributed to the cheers for Snape from the Slytherins despite the anxious stares from some of the other girls in other houses, although he kept it brief to avoid attracting too much attention to himself as Lockhart got back to his feet.
"Well, there you have it!" the 'Defence' teacher said, smiling at the pupils despite his unsteady walk back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Spell- as you can see, I've lost my wand- ah, thank you, Miss Brown-, yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do; I simply felt that it would be more instructive to let them see it rather than stop you..."
Harry couldn't tell if Lockhart actually believed that crap he was saying- it was clear to him that Lockhart hadn't known what to do about Snape's spell, but he could have an over-inflated view of his skills or simply be incapable of acknowledging when he was out of his depth-, but thoughts on the matter were put aside as Lockhart and Snape began to sort the various attending students into pairs, Ron being paired with Seamus while Hermione ended up with a Slytherin girl called Millicent Bulstrode that reminded Harry of a picture from Holidays with Hags, leaving Harry to face up against Malfoy.
"Face your partners!" Lockhart called out, now back on the platform; Harry barely inclined his head while looking at Malfoy, but the fact that Malfoy didn't do much in response did nothing to allay his guilt. "Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents- only to disarm them; we don't want any accidents- one ... two ... three-"
As Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry on 'two', Harry ducked to avoid Malfoy's early attempt at a spell- whatever his rival was attempting Harry doubted he wanted to experience it himself- before following it up with a quick Tickling Charm that sent Malfoy sinking to his knees, giggling unstoppably and barely able to move for laughing, giving Harry time to glance over at where Hermione had somehow ended up wrestling with Millicent Bulstrode- Harry's best guess was that Millicent had concluded that a spell-on-spell confrontation with Hermione would go poorly against her and so resorted to a more direct physical contest- while Ron was engaged in a relatively even confrontation with Seamus Finnegan, both having managed to simultaneously knock their wands out of each other's hands-
"Tarantallegra!" Malfoy's voice suddenly yelled through his constant laughing, Harry only just managing to neatly sidestep the spell- he'd moved too far away from Malfoy while studying the other duels for it to be immediately accurate, and he had enough warning to move further out of its path- and turn to glare at his rival before Lockhart's hells to halt the competition and Snape's yells of "Finite Incantatem!" brought the worst of the current chaos to a halt. The room might be filled with a haze of greenish smoke, Neville and Justine might be panting for breath on the floor, and Terry Boot appeared to have a broken nose- he wasn't clear on the names of some of the other students he could see-, but eventually the worst of the damage- none of it especially serious, Harry was grateful to note; if Lockhart tried to fix anthing he'd probably end up blowing someone's nose off or something- was dealt with and Lockhart was standing in the middle of the hall once again.
"I think we'd better continue by teaching you how to block unfriendly spells," he said, his eyes flicking around the room after a brief glare from Snape that was clearly intense enough to make sure even he got the point. "Let's have a volunteer pair; Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"
"A poor choice, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, gliding over to stand beside Lockhart in a manner that put Harry in mind of a slightly greasy Batman (He stopped that thought instantly; the last thing he wanted was Snape tainting the memory of one of his favourite comic book superheroes). "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells; we'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox."
Harry didn't even need to see Snape turning to look in his direction to know what was about to happen; he just walked up to the 'stage' that Lockhart had established and turned to face his opponent as Malfoy was walked up to the other end, subsequently tuning out anything that Lockhart might say to him and focusing on remembering a couple of details that he'd read about in the man's books (It was rather like reading Moby Dick, really; at least a third of Lockhart's books might consist of information about the man himself that you couldn't conceive anyone wanting to know, but there were some interesting plot points in there once you paid attention to what they were); hopefully they were more efficient than the man himself in this case...
"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy asked as the two walked forward to face each other, a confident smirk on his face.
"You wish," Harry retorted simply, hoping that he was remembering the charm right; reading about how to perform certain spells was one thing, but it was no substitute- or a poor one, anyway- from actually being able to do them...
Then, as Malfoy raised his wand, Harry called out "Protego!" and erected a magical shield between Malfoy and himself, only for his Slytherin opponent to yell out "Serpensortia!" and seemingly create a long black snake from the tip of his wand, which fell heavily onto the floor between them before raising itself to strike.
Harry froze automatically, the shield he'd just erected remaining frozen between him and the snake; he wasn't sure if shields like this could deflect physical attacks, and he couldn't immediately think of anything he could use to stop this snake from attacking him that would stop it from going after somebody else...
"Don't move, Potter," Snape said, clearly sounding frustratingly smug at Harry's current dilemma. "I'll deal with it..."
"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted, brandishing his wand at the snake, only for the subsequent explosion to send the snake flying ten feet into the air before it fell to the main floor with a loud smack, hissing furiously as it turned to slither towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, fangs exposed and poised to strike as it stared at him...
"STOP!" Harry yelled, shifting the aim of his wand to point at the snake as he tried to recall what Lockhart had just attempted; maybe he could keep the snake up in the air until someone managed to destroy it...
To his surprise, the snake actually paused what it was doing and turned to look at him as soon as he spoke, an expression on its face that could have almost been called 'quizzical' if it wasn't for the sheer strangeness of the idea of a snake having any kind of expression on its face in the few moments before Snape waved his wand and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke.
Noting the slightly puzzled look from several students as though they were trying to figure out whether he'd done something wrong and how they should react about it if such was the case, Harry decided to take advantage of the current confusion and depart from the current confusion, moving rapidly- while taking care not to hurry- back into the crowd before heading for the door catching a glimpse of Ron's distinctive red hair as he and Hermione followed Harry's lead. The three remained silent until they had made it to the currently-deserted Gryffindor common-room, at which point Ron turned to face Harry with an urgent stare.
"Are you a Parselmouth?" he asked.
"Am I a what?" Harry asked.
"A Parselmouth," Ron repeated. "Can you talk to snakes? I mean, you said something odd there, but that could have just been you yelling at everyone to stay quiet with a long 'Ssshhh'..."
"What?" Harry said in confusion. "I didn't tell anyone to be quiet; I was telling the snake to stop..."
"Look, what's the big deal, anyway?" Hermione cut in, looking pointedly at Ron. "So Harry's got an extra talent or two; it's not like there's anything serious..."
She paused for a moment, her eyes widening as something occurred to her. "...Apart from the fact that Parseltongue's a really rare ability that dark wizards like Salazar Slytherin was famous for..."
"Oh, crap..." Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared upwards behind his glasses. "Now that's really going to set the cat among the pigeons if anyone starts thinking too much about what just happened..."
"Come on, is anyone really going to believe that you'd start attacking muggle-borns?" Ron asked with a slight smile that was probably meant in a teasing manner but came across rather weak. "I mean, you've lived with muggles practically all your life-"
"And my own biological relatives nearly ended up beating me to death on my sixth birthday; it wouldn't be hard for an overly-paranoid person to assume that I had a few 'issues' I was going to let loose on the muggle-borns at last," Harry muttered grimly. "Here's hoping nobody works it out..."
Fortunately, there never seemed to be any particular thought given to Harry's apparent display of Parseltongue in the subsequent weeks; Hermione had speculated that, given the relatively small amount Harry had actually said in the language in question, it was most likely that those people who'd been at the short-lived duelling club had pushed that moment aside in favour of discussing the more amusing topics of Snape's effortless disarming of Lockhart or some of the consequences of the would-be duellists' results of attempting combat with an inadequate knowledge of the necessary spells.
Unfortunately, Harry, Hermione and Ron couldn't push the incident aside as easily as everyone else had. Hermione and Harry had spent a great deal of time in the library going over everything they could find about parselmouths and the Potter family in case there really was some hidden link between Slytherin and the Potters that they hadn't heard about earlier, but there were no traces of anything in their research; a few sources actually suggested that there might have been links between the Potters and Gryffindor, but those rumours had been denied at the time by one of Harry's great-grandfathers.
The annoying bit at this stage, really, was the sudden turn the weather had taken as they approached the end of the year. The snow was suddenly so thick that Professor Sprout cancelled all Herbology lessons in favour of making sure that the increasingly-necessary Mandrakes were wrapped up warmly to ensure they were ready to treat Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey. Ron and Harry tried a couple of games of wizarding chess, but after Harry lost twice he decided it was time for a change.
"I'm just going for a walk," he said, pulling on a coat- the castle was frustratingly cold when the winter came- as Hermione took up his position opposite Ron; she could use the tactical practise that chess offered, and Ron enjoyed being the one teaching her something for a change. "See you later."
"Sure thing..." Hermione muttered, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she hovered her fingers between a pawn and a knight (She could never make up her mind how to start games like this), leaving Harry to walk out of the portrait-hole and walk through the corridors of Hogwarts. While the ability to walk around them without worrying about his invisibility cloak made a nice change- it seemed like half the time he went anywhere non-class-related these days was when he was trying to sneak somewhere or other without anyone knowing it-, he swiftly lost much interest in actually doing anything; he briefly tried browsing in the library for anything he might have missed earlier about parselmouths, but he swiftly lost any interest in that topic and headed back out, only to narrowly miss bumping into Hagrid as the gamekeeper came around a corner.
"Harry?" Hagrid asked, pulling up the enormous snow-covered balaclava he was wearing, a dead rooster hanging from his other hand. "Why aren't yeh in class?"
"Herbology was cancelled due to the weather; thought I'd see what I could find about a... project I'm working on," Harry replied; as much as he trusted Hagrid, the man's difficulties in keeping secrets stopped Harry from saying too much in case he unintentionally started creating rumours about Harry's abilities as a Parselmouth. "How about you; what are you doing here?"
"Second dead rooster killed this term," Hagrid replied, holding up the limp body with a slightly grim expression. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the Headmater's permission ter put a charm around the hencoop."
"Good luck with that," Harry said (Hagrid's wand fragments being kept in his umbrella might be a relatively badly-kept secret, but so long as Hagrid never drew significant attention to it he supposed everyone was generally willing to leave it alone). "I'll just head back to the tower; it's Transfiguration next and I need to get my books."
Harry had only just started along the next corridor up the stairs- this one far darker than the others due to a broken window letting in the wind- when he glimpsed something lying on the floor in front of him. Pulling out his wand, he cast a quick Lumos charm, and was shocked to see Justin Finch-Fletchley lying rigidly on the floor, shock frozen on his face as his eyes stared blankly upwards, only for his shock to increase at the sight of a blackened Nearly Headless Nick, floating six inches off the floor next to Justin with an identical look of shock.
Harry didn't know what to do at this point; someone else being Petrified was bad enough, but something capable of doing something like that to a ghost...
He'd barely turned around to head for the other end of the corridor to try and find a member of staff when a door opened behind him and someone screamed in shock, prompting a virtual torrent as people burst out from behind the other doors in the corridor to stare at this unique sight; Harry was forced to compromise a near-decade's interest in crime fiction by moving Justin out of the way before somebody could stand on him (Although he left Nick where he was out of a lack of any idea of what to do with him), the chaos continuing until Professor McGonagall arrived with her class- one of whom looked slightly like a badger; evidently a recent transfiguration had gone wrong-, setting off a loud bang with her wand that forced everyone else back.
Even after her arrival, however, Harry couldn't shake the confusion from his mind as he tried to take in the current wave of chaos, Justin and Nick being taken to the hospital wing- Nick being fanned along like a large cloud-, leaving Harry alone with McGonagall.
"Professor, I swear I-" Harry began.
"This is out of my hands, Potter," McGonagall replied briefly, indicating the other direction. "Come with me."
The two of them marched in silence around a corner, McGonagall stopping before a large stone gargoyle.
"Sherbert lemon!" she shouted, evidently triggering a password as the gargoyle sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall split in two, leaving Harry and McGonagall to step onto the resulting spiral staircase as it smoothly took them up towards a gleaming oak door, which McGonagall knocked on once and promptly opened.
"Wait in there, Potter," McGonagall said simply as she looked at him. "I will... inform your sister of the reasons for your delay."
With nothing else left to be said, Harry walked through the door into the office behind it, leaving McGonagall to go back down the stairs.
Despite his fear about what might be awaiting him, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore's office was really rather fascinating. It was a large and beautiful circular room, filled with several curious silver instruments on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke amid various minor noises that Harry himself couldn't quite make out. The walls were covered with portraits of witches and wizards that Harry assumed were former Hogwarts headmasters, all resting quietly in their frames, as well as the distinctive appearance of the shabby Sorting Hat resting on a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk.
However, what really drew Harry's attention about his current surroundings was a golden perch positioned behind the door, revealing a decrepit-looking bird with vividly-coloured gold-and-red plumage and a short black beak, looking somewhat mournfully at him as a couple of feathers fell from its tail.
Despite its bleak condition, Harry recognised it at once.
"A phoenix..." he whispered in awe, the bird looking at him with a slightly tilted head and what could almost have been a smile if beaks had been designed for such an action. Walking uncertainly towards the bird, Harry reached out to touch it- the bird didn't look that unfriendly, just a bit tired-, but it burst into flames when he was still about a foot away from it, prompting him to yank his hand back in shock as the bird shrieked and collapsed into a pile of ash that gathered in a bowl below the perch.
"Ah, about time too," Dumbledore's voice suddenly said, prompting Harry to spin around as the headmaster walked down the stairs from the upper part of the office, smiling slightly at the pile of burnt remnants before him. "Fawkes has been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on..."
Leaning over to examine the small bowl of ashes, Dumbledore smiled as a tiny, wrinkled newborn bird poked its head out of the ashes, even as Harry couldn't stop a slight wince; he knew that nothing looked that good just after 'birth', but the 'new' Fawkes looked just as ugly as the old one...
"It's a shame you had to see him on a burning day," Dumbledore continued, sitting behind his desk as he glanced briefly at the creature. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes; they can carry-"
"Immensely heavy loads and their tears have healing powers, right?" Harry asked, grateful for a chance not to discuss the issue that had sent him there, even if it was only for a moment, only for a further delay to be provided when the door of the office opened with a loud bang and Hagrid and Hermione burst in, Hermione running to hug Harry while Hagrid stared urgently at the headmaster.
"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid said urgently (Although Harry found it hard to hear him over his concern that his sister was going to break his ribs from squeezing too hard). "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir-!"
"Hagrid's right, Professor; Harry would never open the Chamber- even if he could!" Hermione added, pulling away from Harry to slam her hands down on Dumbledore's desk (It wasn't exactly a physically imposing sight as her chin was only a short distance above the desk anyway, but it was the principle of the thing that Harry appreciated. "He's over anything that the Dursleys did to him, he's the kindest boy I know-!"
"Exactly!" Hagrid confirmed, waving the rooster in his agitation and sending feathers everywhere. "I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to, yeh've got the wrong boy-!"
"Hagrid," Dumbledore said loudly, shooting a brief glance at Hermione as he did so. "Yours and Miss Granger's concern is touching, but unnecessary; I do not think that Harry has attacked anyone."
"Oh," Hermione said, sheepishly removing her hands from the table. "Uh... sorry?"
"Right," Hagrid said, the rooster falling limply at his side as he moved back towards the door. "Well... I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."
"Uh... you don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at the headmaster as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.
"No, Harry, I don't," Dumbledore replied, although his face was sombre as he looked at Harry and Hermione, Harry's adopted sister now standing beside him with an apprehensive expression. "I must ask you, Harry, Hermione, whether there is anything you wish to tell me; anything at all."
A brief glance between the two siblings was all they needed to confirm what the other was thinking; given their limited evidence about what was really going on, coupled with the progress they'd made in their own independent inquiries, they really didn't have anything useful they could tell him at this point.
"No," Hermione said at last, shaking her head as Harry did the same. "We're fine, Professor."
As they walked out of the office, however, the two of them could only hope that their decision to keep quiet about Malfoy wouldn't result in a death before they could question him...
