DRAGONDAVE45: Once again I chuckle away at your review as what you've asked was exactly what I had written XD I wrote about 90% of this chapter at the same time as the previous one and split the two apart so that the chapter wouldn't be too long. Thanks for following along x
Chosen-One-92: Very good guesses but not correct. Granted if you (or anyone) guessed what it is that relates the two of them I'd be very disappointed. Also (like above) it was mildly amusing reading your comments about Snape considering what is written below. Thank you x
starboy454: thanks again, good guess on the basilisk situation but… not quite x
Dragonphoenix666: good luck with Sixth form (I remember it well…)
Spartan3909: Thanks once more bud (P.S. Thanks for pointing out my mistake :D)
Zathol: Thanks for the review, really glad you're enjoying this so much. I hope you enjoy how things unfold from here on out.
EXPOSITION. INFORMATION. WARNING: Chapter May Not Be As Fun As Others (but I will make up for it next chapter)
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A Wizards Life in Magical Academia:
Chapter 10
"I… I've done it!" Ron gasped out in incredulity as he stared down at the papers before him. His four-poster bed all put invisible under the mountain of parchment that covered it. Manuscripts butchered by annotations, highlights and underlined passages by ink of all colours of the rainbow. Scrunched up balls where notes had been taken then scrapped and tossed aside.
But the centrepiece of the maelstrom of written material was the scroll, a single sheet of parchment reaching just shy of two feet long. Rolled closed in the middle of Ron's bed as he knelt before it, trying to massage away the vicious cramp in his writing hand with a grin so bright and smug it could rival the sun,
"I've only gone and done it!" He almost shouted in his breathless delighted victory. The imminent detentions he was due for skipping his afternoon classes and the Howler that awaited him from his mother once the teachers told her.
But that DID NOT MATTER. He now had a recipe sheet for the most coveted artefact on the planet: The Philosophers Stone.
His grin stretched from ear to ear as he stared down at the last 4 months of his life, thick sheets of parchments pinned together within a thick folder.
To Bill,
I finally cracked the code and have a full list of ingredients and such with which to work with. Thanks for all your help and I'll write you again once I've set stuff up and made some progress.
Enjoy Egypt!
Ron
Ronald Weasley's quill flourished in the air extravagantly with a grin as he stared down at the last sheet of parchment he held, addressed to the big brother who had taken the time out of his busy, world hopping career to assist him.
He grinned and handed the letter to the preening Hedwig, her amber eyes almost amused as she flippantly held out her leg. His best friends familiar hooting indignantly when she was instructed to bring the letter to his, flapping her thick white wings at his still extended hand aggressively and hopped out of the window with much flapping and angry squawks.
Ron turned back to his notes and quickly yanked loose a sheet of parchment from the carefully bound folder
Yew wood, interesting. I'll see if Harry can pull some strings with Ollivander to get me some, or at least where I can find some myself.
Octopus Ink followed by Ulcers of a Dragon. Ron grimacing at the latter entry to his list and wondering where or how he could possibly get a hold of them.
He quietly smirked and mused to himself that the first letters of the ingredients list, compiled by writing them onto the parchment the minute he had discovered it in the other manuscripts, spelled out YOU with the first three articles of the list.
Y
O
U
H
A
V
E
B
E
E
N
D
U
P
E
D
Ron looked up and down the acrostic poem he seemed to have written. Looking it up and down with raised eyebrows and a quickening heart.
Thus, Ron snatched up his folder and flung it open and rifled through the good dozen of sheets of parchment that instructions and notes were printed upon.
He was not the most eloquent or sophisticated, he did not have the most formal or high brow grasp on the English language with its large words and gigantic sentences. But he knew that the words written were nonsensical, contradictory and it had nothing to do with how Ron's note taking presented the ideas and information hidden within the
"This… none of this makes ANY sense." Ron choked out with wide eyes, staring down at the misleading, confusing and often contradictory instructions that the most famous alchemist on the planet had oh so carefully hidden in his public manuscripts. Secrets locked behind ciphers and codes that a junior Cursebreaker and his second year Hogwarts student brother were able to crack with just a few months of work.
The ridiculousness of the premise struck him violently.
"You have been duped." He whispered out, testing the words out on his tongue in a shaking voice, "I was… tricked?"
Ron's hand slashed across the creased sheets he knelt upon, scattering his work with an angry growl, fists clenched and teeth grinding as his jaw shook from the strain of holding in his screams of outrage. Fury at being tricked, irritation at being led to believe he was allowed to-
'What was that!?'
His fury was distracted by an uncomfortable sensation. A finger. Ice cold and trailing down his spine, for the briefest of seconds. Causing him to lurch around to find nothing to suggest anyone else occupied the empty dormitory. Beds made in various states of dishevelment, the odd discarded article of clothing, thick heavy trunks and a soft musty smell.
The room was empty besides him, nothing out of the ordinary as he hoped for despite not expecting as such. Thus, the sharp vibrant red caught his eye.
It was stiff, card rather than parchment, sat on the edge of his bed. Elegant, flowing cursive in a gentle crimson ink covering the small piece of card on the edge of his bed. Ron's hand reached out to grip the note that he had never seen before and brought it closer to his worried eyes to see what was written,
To have your hard work and sacrifice disregarded so callously, you have my sympathy.
I extend to you the knowledge in which you seek, in exchange for a small favour of course. Should you be willing to make a deal.
You know how to contact me…
Yours, as always,
The Queen of Hearts x
Ron was left listless and confused on his bed, surrounded by parchment and a shattered dream.
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"Our dear Librarian, Madam Pince, came to me just a half hour ago. Very concerned that a student may be looking into something dangerous in her library." Dumbledore explained in an uncomfortably cheery when the headmaster explained that his attendance in his office had nothing to do with his late return to Hogwarts earlier that morning.
"I… umm…" Harry felt the need to speak under the weight of Dumbledore's raised eyebrow, "I didn't know Parseltongue was dangerous, I just wanted to know a bit more."
"Would you care to explain why you were flagrantly researching something that the Ministry of Magic dubs Dark Magic?" Dumbledore's tone remained neutral despite also accusing Harry, the addressed shifting in his seat as he swallowed his angry feelings, affronted,
"I didn't know it was Dark Magic, Professor." Harry was able to mumble out and was met with a 'hmm' of questioning, the slight injustice of his disbelieving and accusing professor causing his fists to clench in his lap,
"Ignorance is hardly ever an excuse in the eyes of the law." Came his somewhat derisive response,
"Well I didn't know. Trying to find out more about it shouldn't be a crime." Harry's eyes narrowed as he spoke and Dumbledore's
"Be that as it may, it is classified as a dangerous piece of dark magic. Thus we do not carry too much information on it in our library, for obvious reasons." Dumbledore steepled his hands and interwove his fingers as he rested his elbows on his desk, looking at Harry from over the rims of his spectacles, "And as we are an establishment that does not allow the study of the Dark Arts, we teachers have to inform one another when a student looks into the subject."
In a way, Harry understood his headmasters mentality, he knew next to nothing about the Dark Arts, but that (fortunately) was an ignorance that he shared with those who HAD grown up in the magical world.
"I… I will find out somehow what Parseltongue is. Somehow and some way."
"That sounds awfully aggressive, Mr Potter."
A pressure, heavy and suffocating settled over Harry's shoulders. Harry's breaths coming in short for a time before he desperately looked into the pressures source, the choking invisible force appearing from behind the eyes of the blue eyed head,
"…you know something don't you? That's the real reason why you won't tell me." Dumbledore's serious gaze softened somewhat under Harry's words and his eyebrows rose once more, "Yeah, I can see it. Please, please tell me?"
"I apologise profusely if I sound petulant here, Harry. But why should I?"
Harry didn't have a response for quite a while before he carefully spoke again.
"I understand that if it is dangerous then you don't want to tell me, but at the same time it is a part of me." Harry explained pleadingly, "If I'm going to be bullied or pushed around because of it, then I want to have a better idea as to why."
His eyes were imploring. Dumbledore reached for a lemon drop in response, rolling the sour candy around inside his mouth as the glimmer momentarily left his eyes. Hard, serious and searching from an impassive mask,
"What will you do with the information?" he asked, his voice slow and a white eyebrow arching up. Harry started in surprise and shuffled in his seat uncomfortably before speaking again,
"I-I don't know." He stammered out, flinching under Dumbledore's irate expression,
"I have a multitude of information on the subject, but cannot impart any of it if I am unaware of your intentions." He decreed without a modicum of warmth
"Professor, I know absolutely nothing about Parseltongue. I have no intentions, I just want to know what it is." Harry's tone was level but he was still annoyed behind that façade,
"So, the fact that you utilised it to turn a rat into a teacup is something I should just ignore?" His tone almost holding a tone of loathing as he no longer saw the son of James and Lily sat across from him, but a young man with similarly dark hair, high, aristocratic features and sadistic streak hidden behind a pretty smile. His head reliving a similar conversation spoken almost half a century prior.
Dumbledore was thankful for his monumental, self control. For without it, he would have cursed aloud until he was blue in the face.
Harry's face twisted in confusion at the headmasters question, eyebrow's knitting together and his forehead scrunching. Then it was if a light had turned on behind his eyes and there was a sharp gasp of realisation,
"I-I can do that with Parseltongue? I DID that with Pareseltongue?" He gasped out in shock and barely restrained excitement as he spoke. A brightness returning to him that had been absent the night before, "H-How? Please tell me how?"
"Why?"
"I want to know!"
"Why should I explain it Mr Potter?" Dumbledore's voice held a firmness that slashed through the boy's enthusiasm, forcing him to recoil back into the back of his seat, leaving Dumbledore to sigh at his own impatience and rudeness before speaking again, "Knowledge is power. It can be used for good or evil regardless of its nature or contents. This is a very dangerous secret if it were to be given to those who could see it exploited."
"Are you saying that you think I might use it for evil?" Harry asked, tone almost harsh but his expression genuinely quizzical,
"That is not what I said-"
"Or that I'd let that information fall into evil hands?" Harry leaned forward, voice raised as some plot formed behind his curious, searching expression,
"I-"
"What if I gave you a wizard's oath?" Harry's enthusiasm returned somewhat at the surprise that flashed in his headmaster's blue eyes, pressing the issue now that he'd caught the man off guard, "I'll swear on my life that I will keep the information safe and not use it for evil or allow it to fall into the wrong hands."
"Harry, be careful with the words you are using. A wizards oath is a serious endeavour. You cannot enter into them lightly and they are inescapable once you have done so." Dumbledore drawing back in his seat and staring down his nose at the obviously ignorant child,
"I am deathly serious." Enthusiasm was gone, instead it was stony, serious determination that straightened his back and hardened his eyes, "I know you have the information I need now Professor, I am willing to swear on my life that I won't let it fall into the wrong hands."
Speechless and further caught of guard. It took time for one of the most powerful wizards alive to formulate a reply,
"You would really risk your life on this issue?"
"If it means I can continue on with my research, then yes." A savage nod accompanying his decree,
"Why are you really dedicated to this, you are obviously seeking power. But for what end, Mr Potter?"
He paused, his eyes scrunched closed and Dumbledore waited. The clock ticked a minute by and Harry inhaled slowly before speaking,
"I want to be free."
Dumbledore for the first time in that conversation, started himself. Another Tom Riddle no longer sitting at the desk across from him.
Instead his younger self stared him down with emotive, desperate but determined green eyes. He shifted under that gaze, uncomfortable not only with the possible implications, but the very comparison of that child to himself. The knowledge of who he was and who he became linked to this boy in particular FAR from comfortable.
Yet under that gaze he did cave.
"Parseltongue is a magical language. This means it is a language that is MADE of magic rather than a language that has been assigned magic, like Latin."
"It's… made of magic?"
"Blood magic to be precise." Dumbledore nodded sagely before continuing, "Long ago, on the sands of the desert in ancient Egypt, one of the oldest dark lords, Herpo the Foul created from scratch the king of serpents. The basilisk, a being that could kill with a glance and held the most powerful venom of any being in creation."
"He also created a way to control it, Parseltongue, the language of the serpents. Using his own blood and other procedures and methods lost to time, he tied the ability to communicate with and control snakes to his bloodline." The Headmaster continued,
"To his bloodline? So he and his children could speak it?" Harry asked, quickly catching on as he spoke aloud, and the Professor nodded,
"Yes. So, he himself and any descendants of his would, upon birth, be able to fluently and effortlessly communicate with serpents and bend them to their will." Dumbledore's eyes closed softly, he rubbed his forehead with long probing fingers as a sigh erupted from past his lips, blue eyes taking in the enraptured youth before lethargically continuing, "Millenia on, wizards and witches displayed the ability. Many being powerful dark witches, wizards, lords and ladies who used their use of the language as a banner to spread terror and make an indication of their power and lineage. Two of the more famous examples being one of the founders of this school, Salazar Slytherin and the more recent Dark Lord Voldemort."
A pregnant, silent pause settled upon the room as that information sunk in,
"W-wait? D-does that mean…"
"Yes Harry, Parseltongue is an ability passed through the blood. So, you are in someway related to the two of them and, far more distantly, to Herpo the Foul."
Harry felt sick. But he swallowed the forming gag, his mind compartmentalising the information to address at a late date,
"Harry, if you feel-"
"P-Please… just continue." Harry stammered out, barely trusting himself to speak under Dumbledore's pitying stare, but continue he did,
"Very well, but I must say that is the limit of the historical facts. It is an ability, a piece of ancient blood magic that has survived throughout the centuries, that manifests in the descendants of Herpo the Foul."
"Implications?"
"It is a magical language, as I have previously stated. Meaning it holds a power over magic itself that Latin, Gaelic, Greek or any other language that humanity has used to focus their power can and will never possess."
Harry looked lost, thus Dumbledore rubbed his head again and searched for a simpler way to explain.
"When you use magic, the spells you say aloud are used in a way to give the magic inside you instructions. For example, Wingardium Leviosa instructs your magic to make something float. Are you following me so far?"
His brow furrowed once again, but Harry quietly nodded in understanding,
"Many people worldwide perform magic this way, using dead languages in order to focus their magic and speak spells. Thus, Latin and the others are examples of languages that we have 'assigned' magic to. Meaning that hundreds of years ago-"
"People just decided that those would be the ones we'd use to have our spells in." Harry spoke allowed, pieces clicking together as he spoke, "Instead of English or the languages they spoke at the time?"
"Yes indeed." Surprised by the interruption but not put off, "The people of the past all but unanimously and simultaneously decided to assign their own magical power to the no longer spoken languages of the past. Deciding that only in those tongues would their magic be instructed."
"Choosing dead languages that nobody spoke anymore is perfect! That way, you don't accidentally give magic an instruction when you don't want to every time you speak." Harry said in an impassioned reply before he froze in his seat, Dumbledore was confused and concerned as he watched something dawn on Harry's face, "T-That's what I did, isn't it? With Parseltongue? I accidentally gave it an instruction with an actually magical language and transfigured the rat?"
"20 points to Gryffindor." Dumbledore smirked with pride, the glimmer returning to his eyes at the boy quickly putting the pieces together without him having to explain the next bit, "Yes, unlike Latin or Gaelic, which we have decided we want to use for magic, Parseltongue is magic already. Meaning that if it is used for magic, the effects become more potent, or it said magic becomes easier to perform. Possibly both, it is unclear. Nobody has used Parseltongue in such a way before, but it is how certain other magical languages operate."
"There are other magical languages?" Harry asked awestruck,
"Yes, though they are not spoken by humans," He stated, "Granted, we can learn them. Mermish, Elvish, Gobbledygook, we can make the appropriate sounds and form the words to communicate, but they are not our languages, so we cannot use them for magic like Parselmouths can use theirs. Like you can use Parseltongue for yours."
"So… if I do a spell in Latin and then do the same spell in Parseltongue. The second one will be more powerful or easier to perform?"
"In theory, yes. And, combined with the fact that you are already fluent, from birth, in the latter language, there is should be no magical feat you cannot make a spell to accomplish."
"I can say anything in Parseltongue and it'll happen?"
"As long as you have enough power and concentration, the two greatest factors in a spell, you could theoretically perform feats that could dwarf even me one day."
Dumbledore beheld disbelief, wonder, awe and even a bit of fear, at that knowledge. That fear seeming to grow before Harry spoke again,
"D-Does Voldemort know? I mean, he's a Parselmouth too right?"
Albus sighed but shook his head,
"I had a similar talk with the young man who would go on to become the Dark Lord when he was in his teens. I saw then, the path he would tread, and withheld that information from him and received no indication that he ever reached this conclusion at a later date." Dumbledore felt his age as he spoke, remembering him as if it really were yesterday. Tom Riddle, fifteen, straight backed and charming as he flattered and pleaded away from his seat for information about Parseltongue and unknowingly revealing the malice and hatred to Dumbledore's weary but aware gaze when he was denied, "I don't think he ever did, fortunately."
Harry nodded slowly, his eyes falling to his shoes before he nodded once again. Stance and expression resolute as he held out his hand towards him,
"Thank you for telling me Headmaster. I'm ready to make that oath now."
"Why are you so eager?" Dumbledore's eyebrow raised as he surreptitiously drew his wand to make the oath anyway,
"This oath will stop be from revealing it right? It'll stop me from revealing it by killing me before the likes of Voldemort or other evil people can figure out how to use Parseltongue for evil, right? I have to make sure that this information never falls into the wrong hands myself. That's the responsibility I have and the promise I made when I asked you to tell me the truth." Harry's face held no emotion, it was hard as steel, and his eyes glowed with purpose, "For your benefit, for mine and for the benefit of any and all who could be hurt by the misuse of this knowledge, please hurry and make an oath with me Dumbledore. I promise on my life that I'll never misuse the knowledge you gave me or let anybody else do so either."
And on that day, Dumbledore took the warm hand of the Boy Who Lived and bound him to those words.
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[FLASH]
Too widely spaced oil lamps threw Albus Dumbledore's face into shifting, glorious shadow as he sat atop his conjured throne before the inly occupied cell in Nuremgard castle. His glare levelled at the shivering form of his old friend and enemy as he coughed and wheezed between sharp bouts of hysterical laughter.
"Oh I only wish the world knew you as I do, Albus." He eventually wearily spoke up, wiping a stray tear from his eye as he looked up at his adversary with a mirth filled gaze, "A man who believes that 'everyone deserves a second chance, bah!"
"You keep that boy around because it is convenient." He accused with a smirk like sharpened ice, "Admit it."
"I see no shame in doing so. Severus Snape was a trusted individual within Voldemort's Inner Circle. Trusted to not only brew the Dark Lord potions, but to play an active role in their plans." He spoke clinically, as if he were reading from a textbook, " He was a lively participant in their so called 'raids'. The blubbering man has admitted to far more and far worse than what he has been reported doing."
"And yet you have gone so far to defend his actions and keep him by your side in the presence of children."
"He is a dog on a tight leash, not even knowing how limited he is in the actions he can perform."
"How so?"
"His guilt. The fool accidentally sent the Dark Lord after the only woman he has ever loved, eleven years ago, and finds himself unable to forgive himself for her near murder." Albus explained with a gaze of the utmost disgust and loathing, though his distant gaze showed it was not actually directed at the man he was speaking to, "It is enough to keep him in place in order to have him do my bidding. But nowhere near enough to secure any modicum of redemption. Not as if the man cares, he is not seeking redemption."
"And yet he is within your employ?" An eyebrow raised and smirk tugging at a corner of his lips,
"As well as being a vile, waste of a man; he is also an incredible potions master, a powerful and intelligent wizard and very well trusted by the Dark Lord." The headmaster had the gall to shrug,
"You would have him return and spy for you, wouldn't you?"
"The dark lord is bound to rise once again, by then I plan to already have my pieces in motion to slice him down."
The former Dark Lord cupped his chin in hand and hummed in audible thought as a wicked grin ghosted across his features,
"I wonder... How do you look these men and women in the eye, knowing you harbour and vouch for the man who directly ruined their lives?" Grindlewald's words were snide and cruel, yet still failed to get a rise from the addressed, "Knowing that by your hand, he evades justice."
"With a smile on my face, knowing that this small sacrifice of my morals will ensure no others will suffer in the same way again."
"A necessary evil for the greater good, you mean?"
"Of course."
"BAH!"
Grindlewald rocketed to his feet and twirled away from his enemy on shaking legs, walking to his cells thin, small window to stare out onto the black landscape.
"Even after all these years you STILL haven't changed, have you Albus." He spoke over his shoulder, dark eyes glimmering coldly as he stared into Dumbledore's soul, "Still living by the same ideology you swore by as a youth yet have denounced as a man."
"The suffering of the few for the benefit of the whole is a concept that predates us both, Gellert. The only one who perverts it so is you and your... ilk."
"I'd have you take that back about my dear followers and subordinates." Grindlewald responded with a slightly more cold and clipped tone,
"Do not pretend to care, Gellert. I know they were only pawns in your game." Dumbledore rolled his eyes but started sharply when Grindlewald slammed his fist harshly against the bars and glared viciously up at him,
"I WAS A PAWN ALSO!" He bellowed, enraged and only held back from striking a blow by the physical barrier between him and his aggressor, "Don't lump me in with that Voldemort mess you created. Or all those other wannabe rulers of the earth. I didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. It was all about the success of the cause."
"I hold your very existence in my hands, Gellert." He warned, fists clenchings around the arms of his throne, "Be careful of how you speak."
"What are you going to do, Albus? What more can you take from me?" His tone cut through sharp as steel, "I'm an old man Dumbledore. Far past my time, battered by age and occasionally those accursed guards. There's nothing more to be done that you would be willing to do."
Grindlewald scowled but not to the other speaker, who tugged his beard in soft callous thought,
"I do wonder what keeps you alive these days, Gellert? I only come here out of hope really."
"Hope? For what? For me to repent?" Grindelwald scoffed in
"I hope to be here when the light leaves your eyes and you are finally mastered by the very thing you sought dominion over all those years ago." Dumbledore spoke in a crisp tone as he glared down his nose at his bettered adversary. Grindlewald's grin turning to a sour grimace,
"Spite. That's what keeps me going, Albus. Pure, malicious spite." He spat up at the other man, the spittle that frothed past his lips fallung short of the hem of Dumbledore's robes but the headmaster's glare intensifying further at the gesture, "I will pass happily from this world when I am certain that you beat me too it."
"Death is merely the next great adventure, old friend. Making it there first to be with those I have lost is a privilege I wholeheartedly and eagerly await." Dumbledore rose to his feet and brushed imaginary dust from the lap of his pristine robes. His throne vanishing from existence the minute he rolled to his feet and turned to leave, a final snide comment thrown over his shoulder with a clear, emotionless mask upon his face,
"Besides, as the history books would have it, it would not be the first time I have beaten you."
Dumbledore allowed himself a small chuckle as the clang of a fist on iron bars and growled obscenities followed his path to the long flight of stairs. Pulling the door open and stepping over it without pause as he left Gellert Grindlewald behind.
[FLASH]
Hours later, Harry reached the door of the office and pulled it open. Pausing on the threshold of the headmaster's office long enough for the owner to give pause to the paperwork he had set before him,
"Professor, does having Parseltongue make me dark?"
"Evil is a choice and an action. You could be the child of Voldemort himself and still not be evil." Dumbledore's explanation was as earnest as it was rehearsed, having not expected this talk so soon yet ready for it all the same, "What you do is what defines you, Mr Potter. Not what you were born as."
Harry's brow furrowed in thought before a modicum of acceptance settled over his face and he nodded. Offering a small smile that Dumbledore returned, he slipped out of the office and on his merry way.
Alone again, save the snoring portraits of his sleeping predecessors, left the old man to reflect upon his own actions. His regrets, his mistakes, plentiful as they were catastrophic. Not many people can admit that they allowed a wizard to kill hundreds of people when they had the means to stop them all along.
Twice.
'I wonder what the world now calls a man who breaks everything he touches? Are they still called a monster?'
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Random ass question (and I ABSOLOUTELY CANNOT WRITE THE NEXT CHAPTER WITHOUT AN ANSWER) do you want a slight detour next chapter to everyone's first year? The next chapter involves Harry's next wand core trip and a mini interaction with Kinglsey as well as Druella making plans for Harry's Christmas, but I'd really like to do Harry, Delphi, Ron and Hermione's first year as well as how they became a group of friends.
You get either one either way, whichever you choose, I'll be doing and releasing that chapter afterwards. So, pick whichever one you want to see first and I'll take the majority vote.
Thank you for reading x