Author's Note:
This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.
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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.
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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.
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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Tempest of the Fae" by D Mentor.
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Chapter 8 – The Fall of the House of Slytherin
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By gnawing through a dike, even a rat may drown a nation.
– Edmund Burke
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Harry was gratified when he was not immediately accosted by Apolline the next morning when he made his way to the Great Hall. "You find a way out of this last night, Lily?" he asked hopefully as he took a seat next to the bleary-eyed redhead who was nursing a goblet of hot coffee. Mary sat on the other side of the Head Girl, eyes sparkling in mirth, trying heroically not to cackle as she nibbled on her crumpet.
"I think it best just to humour her until we're able to get things figured out," Lily said with faux cheerfulness, eyes locked on the spirals of steam before them. "In the meantime, why don't you just play along?"
"But yesterday you said ... I can't believe you!" Harry stared at the girl in betrayal. "How could you be so blasé about –", the boy cut off when he noticed the approach of the girl who was rapidly becoming the bane of his existence. Apolline skipped happily to him, towing a tall blonde girl who appeared to have a lab coat thrown over her Hogwarts uniform. The French girl nodded to Lily and let stream a rapid flow of French finishing with a sniff of disdain.
"She says, 'look what I found, a perfectly good girl and those idiots with the crow on their flag just ignore her. Such pigs don't know value when they see it'," Lily reported dutifully. Apolline turned from disgusted to enthusiastic in a second, chattering rapidly while she stroked the new girl's hair, jiggled her breasts, and slapped her on the rump. The girl endured this treatment with placid vacancy. Her eyes appeared to be focused on the second leg of the Headmaster's throne for some reason. Harry began to worry that Apolline might have drugged the poor girl. "Thankfully, I'm a very good judge of quality," Lily continued to translate for his (and Mary's) benefit. "Look at that hair, look how big her chest is, imagine the size they'll be in a couple years, and you could bounce a coin on this ass." Apolline nodded in satisfaction and said another few words. "She says that since an extra girl shows that you're manly, having the three of us must show that you're three times as manly as the impotent morons that infest this hellish place," Lily said with a grimace. Mary was rapidly losing the ability to restrain her chortling. Her pale translucent skin was reddening at an alarming rate, causing some of the other Gryffindors to cast her concerned glances. The French girl got a speculative gleam in her eye and blurted a short sentence before laughing maniacally and darting off into the crowd. That was the final straw for Mary, who collapsed onto the table howling with laughter.
The strange girl's eyes suddenly snapped into focus onto Harry's face. Ignoring Mary's total loss of composure, Lily's infuriated glare at her heretofore best friend, and the well-meaning Gryffindors' furrowing of brows in a vain attempt to understand the situation, she stepped forward and said the last thing he could have imagined: "Harry Potter – it is good to finally meet you." She nodded in satisfaction, before pulling a parchment from her pocket, a quill from behind her ear, and began scribbling notes at a rapid pace.
"Gaah!" Harry almost fell out of his seat. "How in Merlin's name did you know that? Wait a minute, were you the one that sent me that owl message on the first morning of this term?"
"Of course it was me," she murmured absently, continuing her furious scribbling. "And I must point out how rude it was of you to never reply to my welcome."
"How could I possibly reply to it? You didn't sign it!" Harry objected defensively. "And I've been going crazy trying to figure out who could possibly know to call me that!"
"Hmmm really? That's hardly an excuse you know. You are a wizard."
"That's not an answer … no, I'm not letting you distract me. The important question is, why did you write that note to me?"
"Seemed like the obvious thing to do at the time."
"What do you mean by – wait, hold up a minute." Harry raised one hand, while using the other to rub his face. After a moment or eight of thought, he looked back up at the girl who was now examining his scalp with a comically enormous magnifying glass.
"Okay, first things first. My name is Peter Pettigrew, sixth year student of Hogwarts; whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"My, so polite. But then you are a chévalier, according to Miss Delacour. " She made an absentminded half-curtsey, never ceasing her examination. "Miss Pandora Selene Lovegood at your service. In more ways than one, it seems, since I have been informed that Miss Delacour has gifted me to you as an engagement present. To help transform you into a skilled lover, thus ensuring that her first time will not consist of any inexperienced fumbling, or premature termination. And also to balance out the influence of the 'bad-tempered one'," she gestured towards the fuming redhead who was bodily dragging her limp and shuddering friend away. Mary managed to wave to him before she was out of sight.
"I don't think Miss Delacour's legally allowed to do that," he replied dryly. At least I hope not. He considered the girl standing before him. Lovegood. Luna's Mum. That explains sooooooo much. It also tells me that trying to figure out what she meant by that note will be both headache-inducing and completely pointless.
If there's one thing I've learned about Lovegoods, the Otter offered, it's that to preserve your sanity, just go with the flow and hope the wave doesn't beach you painfully.
She shrugged. "It matters little to me, Harry Potter. I'm happy to be involved with you three, provided I can properly experiment, of course! Bwahahahahaha!" she laughed maniacally.
He felt a chill descend. He'd need to handle this carefully. "Please only call me 'Peter Pettigrew' from now on," he said, straining to be calm. "That other name will only cause me trouble. If you're willing to keep my secrets, I'd be more than happy to assist you with your experiments – within reason of course! NO painful or humiliating tests on living humans!" he asserted firmly.
Pandora looked irritated for a brief moment. "Well, we can agree the details later," she replied airily. "Come see me in my lab after class and we'll begin the testin– uh, I mean we can work out ways of convincing our esteemed Head Girl to properly get into the spirit of things. Until then, farewell." She drifted vaguely over to the Ravenclaw table and sat down next to Apolline. The two girls began to compete to see who could build the most impressive carousel out of the available foodstuffs, to the consternation of their tablemates.
His thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of Remus, who slid down onto the seat that Lily had recently vacated. James and Sirius plopped down on the opposite side of the table.
"Ugh, MacDonald's acting crazier than usual this morning," James grunted, reaching for the pumpkin juice.
"Not to mention louder," Sirius grumbled. "She and Lily woke up the entire House with their caterwauling. How's a man supposed to sleep past 8 on a non-training day? What is this, the army?"
"So what's the deal with you and Lovegood?" Remus asked as he loaded as much bacon as he could reach onto his plate.
"Apolline dragged her over to introduce us before you arrived. She wants us all to be friends."
"And what does the Divine Doyenne of Disassemblement think about all this?" Sirius interjected.
"Divine Doyenne?" James sleepily pushed his wild fringe out of his eyes. "What are you on about Padfoot? I thought she freaked you out; didn't you say she was crazier than your mother, and would vivisect any wizard that gave her half a chance?"
"Details," Sirius sniffed condescendingly. "The fact that she's nuttier than a muggle peanut farm doesn't stop me from appreciating her finer qualities."
"Such as?"
"Such as the finest pair of quaffles this side of Amelia Bones. So, spill: what did she want?"
"She invited me to see her lab this afternoon."
"Already inviting you back to her place eh? You work fast, Wormy! Merlin, if getting a personality implant from the future was all it took to transform timid, shy widdle Peter into such a lust-fuelled powerhouse, imagine what it would do to a sexy beast such as I!" Sirius shivered dramatically. "Why, the very foundations of this universe may be undone! Along with the knickers of every bird on the planet! Guys, we need to start planning a time ritual of our own!"
"Where exactly is this 'lab' of hers?" Remus asked. It was too early in the morning to humour Padfoot's latest crackpot scheme. "And what time are you supposed to arrive?"
"Ah. She never said."
Sirius shook his head pityingly. "So near and yet so far, young grasshopper. It is clear you still have much to learn," looking inordinately pleased at that fact. "Don't worry, we'll track her down after class with the you-know-what and find out what's what."
But such well-laid plans immediately gang agley as the Deputy Headmistress rose and announced that all students who'd participated in the so-called 'Battle of Hogwarts' must report to Filch every day after classes for their full month of punishment detail. Hard (wandless) labour. Filch was almost dancing in sadistic glee. Damn.
"Don't worry mates," Sirius tried to cheer his three friends, ignoring McGonagall's jeremiad on how they had disgraced Hogwarts in front of the other schools and the entire wizarding world. Up on the wall, the green Slytherin crystals and red Gryffindor crystals points counters were both at zero. "At least those slimy snakes are stuck in the gulag too. And it will give us plenty of time to plot an appropriately horrendous revenge, True Marauder Style™. We can play the long game – they ain't goin' nowhere nohow."
But Sirius was wrong. For the next day, Slytherin House ceased to exist.
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Nobody in the Gryffindor rank and file noticed anything at first. Sure, the Slytherin table was looking a little emptier that morning. Okay, a lot emptier. Okay, only Snape, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Regulus, and several firsties and secondies turned up for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And breakfast the next day. But that was no doubt some sort of sneaky snakey scheme to catch them off guard, and the noble and righteous Gryffs were too clever to fall for that, no siree.
And yet the missing students were also missing from their classes. The teachers refused to answer any questions on the subject, brusquely redirecting the class's attention whenever someone was bold enough to query it out loud. The Prefects and Head Boy and Girl (as well as the remaining Slytherin students) were similarly tight-lipped, and were always away in meetings. The portraits and ghosts seemed unusually active, moving rapidly from frame to frame, or floating back and forth along the corridors.
Then the brave House of the Lion began to realise that the disappearances were not limited to Slytherin. The entire Durmstrang contingent stopped turning up to their dorms in Gryffindor Tower, except for single dark-haired seventh-year girl who'd never spoken a word to anyone. She was now the sole representative of her school. Seven Koldovstoretz students were among the missing, as were a dozen Ravenclaws. The Gryffs might have noticed sooner had the Durmstrang or Koldovstoretz students ever bothered to socialise with them. Instead they had been cold and aloof to a person since day one, as if they'd been ordered by their schools to have no association with the Lions. Which, given the reputations of said schools, they may well have.
This puzzling state of affairs continued for several more days. Finally, on the seventh day after the disappearance, the Aurors arrived and searched every inch of the castle. Expeditions were sent out into the Forbidden Forest, and into the murky depths of the Black Lake. On the thirteenth day, the Aurors began questioning students.
At least their daily punishment of scraping mould off the castle walls with small, easily-breakable trowels kept them busy and worn out. At least this new Slytherin et al situation distracted James from his resentments. At least the absence of Lily from their daily routine didn't shove his convoluted relationship with her in everyone else's faces. These factors combined to keep the animosity to a low simmer. James and Peter were still not on speaking terms, but at least the Marauders could hold group conversations and planning sessions without the risk of degenerating into fisticuffs or hexes. On the fourteenth day, they were summoned for their formal interrogation.
"Wonder what took them so long to start investigating," Harry pondered idly to himself as the foursome lounged near the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, waiting for their turn to have a 'chat' with the nice people from the DMLE.
Then again, I don't know why I'm so surprised. The Aurors never bothered to help keep Hogwarts safe in the past – future – either. All those students dropping like flies to the basilisk for months. Even when Ginny, the daughter of a Department Director at the Ministry no less, was kidnapped, the DMLE didn't bother to intervene. The faculty just decided to give up and close the school. And no Aurors posted when they were hunting Sirius; nope, just send a cavalcade of unsupervised soul-sucking Dementors to float around randomly. Is the Ministry banned from operating here by treaty or something? No, that can't be right, otherwise they wouldn't be able to be here now. Guess it makes a difference if dozens of purebloods are kidnapped, rather than just one. Or maybe it just takes an International Incident.
"Probably because they know the missing are still alive," James murmured, clearly too distracted to realise who'd asked the question. "All sorts of ways to monitor that sort of thing – family tapestries, life crystals, self-updating official documents. Ministry and Gringotts need to know who's alive and who's not."
"Family clocks," Harry added, remembering Mrs Weasley's prized clock.
"Never mind that – the real question is, why couldn't Snivellus be one of the missing?" Sirius complained. "If any of those slimy snakes deserved to vanish off the face of the earth, it was him. Or my crazy bitch of a cousin. But I guess Fate doesn't love me enough for that! Even after all I do for Her ... No matter. Dya reckon if we 'disappeared' Greaseball ourselves anyone would notice? Moony, I could 'accidentally' let slip to him not to go visit the Shrieking Shack on the night of the next full moon…"
Remus jerked upright in alarm. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, "Don't you even think about it! Not even as a joke!" His eyes narrowed. "I mean it, Padfoot!" he growled as he advanced menacingly, "Or so help me I'll –"
"Hem hem." The four spun around. The gargoyle had moved aside, revealing the stairwell to Dumbledore's seat of power. Professor McGonagall tapped her foot impatiently. Her face seemed even more pinched than usual. "If you're quite finished with your foolishness," she snapped tightly, "the Aurors are ready to see you now." They sheepishly shuffled up the stairs and into the office, the Deputy Headmistress taking the rear.
Harry was mildly surprised that he recognised the people gathered around Dumbledore's great desk: Alastor Moody, with two natural brown eyes in his head and two natural legs sprouting from his torso – still has all those hideous scars though – grinned manically at their arrival. Rufus Scrimgeour, with his leonine mane and the markings of an Auror Captain on his chest and shoulders. Robards, Dawlish and Proudfoot standing to the side in the uniform of second-year trainees.
He spotted the vials of Veritaserum on the Headmaster's desk.
Oh boy, this is going to be fun, said the Otter sarcastically.
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The Marauders decided to hit the kitchens for an after-interrogation recovery snack. Mindful of his excessive weight, Harry begged off in favour of going to back to Gryffindor Tower and getting some extra sleep. The aftereffects of Veritaserum made him feel extremely weary.
The Aurors had been extremely 'motivated' (i.e., gung-ho) about pumping the four students with the truth potion until their pores had leaked it. Fortunately, James had kicked up a hell of a stink about minors being compelled to be questioned under Veritaserum without their guardians present. Scrimgeour had tried to demur, but James had been insistent, and, backed by the rest of the Marauders, and Dumbledore and McGonagall, the Auror had finally relented and allowed Floo calls to be made. Which resulted in a ticked-off Charlus Potter overseeing the interrogation to ensure the questions stuck to point, and didn't wander off into other areas the DMLE may be interested in that were unrelated to the matter at hand. Even more fortunately, none of the boys had any idea what had happened to the missing students, so it turned out to be quite a brief session. Harry couldn't help but feel the glow of schadenfreude at how palpable the Aurors' disappointment was. They'd obviously been convinced of the Marauders' guilt – not an entirely unreasonable assumption, Harry was forced to admit, given the well-known and long-running rivalry between themselves and the House of Snakes.
Entering his dorm, he was surprised to see himself already lying on his bed. "Hmmm I must tireder that I thought."
"You're not dreaming, you twonk," the other Peter drawled, opening his eyes.
"You're me?" Harry blinked stupidly.
"I'm not Santa Claus," Peter replied. "Though I may rival him in weight."
"And why are you taking up my valuable bed space?"
"I'm here to tell you that it's time."
"It's time?" he asked.
"It's time," he agreed.
"It's time?"
"It's Time."
"It's Time?"
"It's Time."
"It's – what is it time for?"
"Time to deal with the Slytherins and the rest of the Death Nibblers-in-training, of course!" Future-Peter exclaimed impatiently.
"That was me?"
"Was there ever any doubt?" he demanded. "Does anyone else in this school have the cojones to do what's necessary? Is Dumbledore going to lift a finger to prevent the Knights of Walpurgis from riding roughshod over everyone else, and recruiting another generation of murderous psychopaths?"
"Dumbledore …"
"… and the Hogwarts faculty are giving Voldie's future army their basic training. Awfully nice of them to build up their enemies' forces," Future-Peter finished sardonically.
"That's not fair," Harry objected. "Dumbledore's a teacher, and the Headmaster to boot! He can't play favourites, and he can't just turf people out of school because they have sympathy for the Dark Tosser and may go rotten at some point in the future."
His counterpart smirked. "He can't. But we can."
"I suppose you've got a point there," Harry admitted.
"Of course I do. I'm from the future. I know about things like this."
"And how am I going to do it?"
"With magic, duh."
"But it all happened weeks ago!"
"Yes."
"But – ah. Time turner."
"Give the man a cigar," Future-Peter cheered. "400 turns should do it."
"Where am I supposed to get ahold of a time turner?! I'm pretty sure the Department of Mysteries is sealed up tight right now 'coz of the Death Eater threat. There's no way I'll be able to get in."
"I'm sure you'll think of something," he replied smugly.
"Can't this wait until I've had some sleep?" Harry grumbled.
"No," Peter said firmly. "You need to hurry. The others will be arriving here soon. You have to be gone by then."
"Can't you give me any hints, at least?"
Peter pondered for a moment. "Grab the Invisibility Cloak and the Map," he nodded towards James' trunk, "and bring Ron down to the Chamber."
"The Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked, rummaging around in the trunk. He felt a bit bad to be going through his father's things behind his back like this.
"No, the chamber pot of Godric Gryffindor. Of course the Chamber of Secrets!"
Harry triumphantly located the Cloak and the Marauders' Map. Pulling the trunk's lid shut, he suddenly froze as he could hear voices approaching.
"We're out of time!" hissed Peter. "Get going!"
Throwing the Cloak over himself, Harry pressed himself against the wall as the other three came in.
"I saved you something," Remus commented, tossing him a large hunk of beef jerky.
"Thanks mate," Peter grabbed it and started gnawing in his rat-like way.
As the friends bantered and prepared for bed, Harry slipped out of the room and made his way to the second floor. Taking refuge in an empty classroom he called out, "Kreacher!" The surly elf appeared, glaring at him with loathing. "Take this note to Gilderoy Lockhart immediately! Give it to nobody but him, and don't let anyone else see you! Go now," handing the parchment to the elf.
Eight and a half minutes later, Lockhart rushed into the room. "Harry!" he hissed.
"Peter, remember." Harry's head appeared out of nowhere. "Hop inside."
"You got your Invisibility Cloak back," Ron crowed. "Brilliant!" He ducked underneath.
"Only borrowing it for the moment. We need to go back in time and take care of the Slytherin problem."
"That was us?"
"Can you think of anyone else who'd be so audacious?"
Ron grinned. "Guess not. So we're going to fulfil the dream of every Gryffindor who's ever inhabited this castle – sign me up! You got a time turner then?"
"No," Harry admitted. "That's the first thing we need to do."
"Time room at the DoM?"
"I can't imagine it'd be as easy as last time to infiltrate. Not in a state of war, with Barty Crouch manning the battlements."
"Pity Hermione isn't here. We could've used hers."
"Yeah … yeah. Hey, you don't suppose they've done it before?"
"Done what?"
"Given out time turners to bright young students so they can attend more classes?"
"Risk the fabric of time and space so a bunch of swots can swot even harder? Of course they must have! It'd be far too sensible just to schedule all the classes so that it's possible to attend them all without time travel."
Harry laughed. "Ron Weasley being the sensible one? The world really has gone mad!"
"Shut it you!" Ron gave him a good-natured shove.
"So the question is, who would be the most likely person they'd give one too?"
"Your question answers itself: who's the brightest student in school?" They looked at each other. Ron started laughing. "Ooooh she's gonna be even more pissed at you if she ever finds out!"
"Kreacher," Harry sighed. With a pop the hateful elf was back.
"Disgusting fat master has another worthless errand for Kreacher?" he sneered.
"Yes – go to the Head Girl's room. Search the whole place and see if there's a time turner hidden away somewhere. Do you know what a time turner is?" The elf reluctantly nodded. "Good. If you can't find it in the room, search her person, but only if she's asleep or unconscious. Do not, under ANY circumstances let her (or anyone else) know that you've searched the room or taken her belongings. Go there immediately, and if you find it, bring it back here at once. Do not talk to anyone, do not be seen by anyone, do not leave any signs that you were ever there. Go!"
Harry ran a hand through his thin mousy hair. "Ugh, dealing with that creature is so tiresome."
"Better you than me, mate."
"At least I never spent three years sleeping in a bed with a grown man!"
Ron blanched. "That was below the belt, mate."
A pop. Kreacher had returned. "Kreacher has stolen time turney machine for filthy rat master," he sniffed.
"Thankyou. You may go now." The elf didn't hesitate. "The other me said 400 should do the trick."
"Blimey that's a lot!"
"Then you'd best not make me lose count, eh Mr Lockhart?"
"Fine – but let's sit down before you start. I'm not imitating a mannequin for two hours while you tick away." They sat on the nearest desk. Harry threw the chain around both of their necks and started turning the dial. "One … two … three …"
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"I think the coast is clear," Ron hissed. "No Myrtle in sight!"
The two of them crept into the girls' bathroom under the Cloak.
"Let me try," suggested Ron. "I want to see if I still remember how to do this." Focusing on the sink, he cleared his throat and hissed, §Open!§ It was a passable attempt at Parseltongue. Passable enough that the sink sank softly into the ground and the passage to the Chamber of Secrets opened. "Yes! Still got it!" he preened.
"Well done; if I ever get incapacitated, you'll still be able to get in and out of this place."
"That's assuming you can even do it yourself. Have you tried talking to a snake since you lost that piece of ol' Snakeface's soul in your head?" That gave Harry pause. No he hadn't.
That's a good point, the Otter pondered. It's possible with the loss of the horcrux you're no longer a Parselmouth. In which case, you may have a bit of a problem with the gigantic snake you're about to encounter.
Fortunately the cave-in from last time obviously hadn't occurred yet, so the passageway was clear to the great gate to the Chamber proper. Harry approached and straightened his shoulders. Time for the moment of truth: he opened his mouth, and –
Ron clapped his hand over Harry's mouth. "Wait a tic! We haven't talked about what we're going to do about the giant bloody basilisk that lives on the other side of that door! Don't you think we should have a plan, Mr Reckless?"
"Oh yeah."
"What are we going to do with you, Harry?"
After a brief planning session, the friends were finally confident of success. Harry once again faced the great snake gate. Focusing on the serpents, he saw in his mind's eye Nagini uncoiling herself and standing upright. Her hood flared and her eyes gleamed. Opening her jaws, she launched forward and
§Open!§
Add one more checkmark in the 'Things Dumbledore was wrong about' column …
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It turned out to be surprisingly easy to deal with the basilisk: she was trained to obey any Parselmouth, since that was the sign of a true descendent of Salazar Slytherin. At Harry's request she kept her eyes tightly shut at all times. Being used to living in total darkness and moving by smell and touch alone, this was no great burden for her. It turned out her name was the same as her original master, Salazar. Odd name for a female but there you go.
Without Riddle around to order the basilisk to attack people, Salazar was fairly pleasant company. Extremely indolent, sarcastic and absentminded, but pleasant. So almost exactly like every other snake Harry had ever encountered.
I am not lazy! Nagini hissed angrily.
Salazar, aka Sallie, informed Harry of a secret passage leading into the Forbidden Forest, that was used in olden days to allow her out to hunt. Harry opened the entranceway and sent her to consume every Acromantula she could get her enormous jaws around. Unicorns and centaurs were strictly off-limits and to be avoided.
Feeling a bit vindictive over what happened to your precious Lily-flower? smirked the Otter.
Shut up! Harry snapped defensively. I don't care how much Hagrid loves his cute, fluffy pets, those monsters are a menace!
"First order of business," announced Harry, "is to get ourselves settled in. By my calculations, we've a little over a fortnight to spend in here, so we may as well make ourselves comfortable. Ron, I'm delegating that task to you."
"What, you mean like decorating?"
"I mean like organising furniture, beds, clothes, clearing out the dirt and grime, exploring the extent of the Chamber, finding out if there's anything here we can use: libraries, pools, potions labs, etc." Ron was dubious. "It'll also give you a chance to practice your transfiguration. Remember what McGonagall said about your last test!"
"And what exactly will you be doing in the meantime?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Trying to find a way to corral a horde of Dark Wizard wannabes into one place without getting killed!" Ron still looked unconvinced. "Kreacher!" The elf appeared. "This is Gilderoy Lockhart, you must obey him as you would me, unless his orders contradict mine. Do you understand?" Kreacher snarled, but nodded. Harry continued (mindful of Nagini's advice), "Good. My first instruction is to bring us proper food, clothes and furniture as befits a Lord of House Black: including beds, wardrobes, pyjamas, toothbrushes, and so forth. Also a book on hairstyles and haircutting charms. Once all the necessities are set up, you will start cleaning this place from top to bottom. It hasn't been touched in a thousand years, so I'm sure you'll be ecstatic at all the work that needs to be done!" He turned to Ron. "There you go, all set. Go wild! I look forward to seeing what you come up with. §Bye for now, Salazar!§" And with that he grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and left.
"I'm gonna murder him."
"Kreacher would help blood-traitor do so if he could."
Ron and Kreacher looked at each other.
"So, d'ya ever hear the one about the troll, the hag, and the leprechaun who go into a bar …" Ron offered.
Kreacher pointedly turned his back on the boy and started examining the Chamber.
"This is going to be a barrelful of laughs," Ron sighed in resignation.
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After spending a day observing the Slytherins' movements with the Marauder's Map, Harry reached a conclusion: they were too disparate and random a bunch to ever hope to get together in one place (that wasn't the Slytherin common room). And that wasn't even including all the Ravenclaws, Durmstrangers and Koldovstoretzers that were due to go missing. Heck, he didn't even know which ones were Voldie supporters and which were not! How in the name of Godric's gizzard was he supposed to make them all appear in one location and then get the drop on the lot of them? He couldn't see a way to do it without suffering severe injury. Harry sighed. Guess I'll just have to nab them one by one. Except that could take days and days to finish. Someone would definitely notice and take action after the first two or three vanished. And everyone disappeared in one night!
"Argh!" he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Then he stood up to stretch and look out over the grounds. He was currently hiding out on top of the Astronomy Tower. The place was deserted this time of day, so he'd eschewed the Cloak for now. "What am I going to do?"
"You're overthinking things again."
Harry looked around sharply.
On the battlements behind him, legs swinging back and forth insouciantly, sat a familiar-looking redheaded girl. He recognised her as the one who'd winked at him in the corridor after the Welcoming Feast.
"Uh, wah?" he asked articulately.
"I mean, you're forgetting the simplest way of going about this. Stop trying so hard, and make your enemies do the work for you," she chirped brightly.
Harry stared at her in shock, desperately racking his brains and the scraps of Pettigrew's memories to find out who this person was and what did she mean? She couldn't possibly be talking about what it sounded like.
Never seen her before, mate, the Dormouse piped up, then again my thoughts aren't what they used to be, so maybe …?
Otter said, nope me neither.
The Grim, Lynx and Owl shook their heads.
Nagini slept peacefully.
A close examination of the girl yielded few clues. She was a fourthie by the look of her, and wore a Gryffindor tie and red-lined robes, but so far he'd been too busy this school year to bother getting to know anyone outside of his immediate group. Focusing on her features, long red hair tied back in a neat braid, warm chocolate eyes, cute button nose, cheeky smirk, he was again stuck by a sense of familiarity. Maybe she was related to the Prewetts or the Weasleys. But her freckleless skin would seem to argue against that.
Harry was suddenly struck by an awful thought, was this Ron's dreaded Aunt Muriel? The thought that that terrifying and redoubtable old battleaxe could ever have been this young, and this seemingly friendly, was unnerving. What was even more unnerving was her familiarity with him. They were obviously close in some way. But – a 16-year old Peter Pettigrew-the-traitor and an 14-year old Muriel Prewett-the-harridan? Could such a perverse and horrifying pairing ever exist without destroying the fabric of the universe? The horror, the horror.
'Muriel' however, growing impatient with his long silence, hopped down to the ground and strode up to him, almost nose to nose. It was a sad indictment on his current body that his nose was only an inch higher than that of a fourth-year girl.
"Well?" she demanded. "What do you say?"
"Um …"
She rolled her eyes in exasperation at his doltishness. "Morgana's mittens, how do you even manage to get out of bed and eat breakfast in the mornings without someone to hold your hand the whole way? This is the third time now."
"What do you mean, third time?"
"The third time I have to pull your chestnuts outta the fire."
"What were the other two times?" he asked curiously. Now was his chance to get some useful information.
"You know, the time you fell into the toilet on the Express, and when you and the other one when you and Red almost become spider-chow in the Forest," she retorted with a trace of impatience.
"Wait, that was you in the Forest? And on the train?" Harry said in astonishment.
She nodded.
"But how did you know where I was and what I was doing? And why are you helping me?"
A mischievous smile graced her pouty lips, but the girl didn't answer. Instead she grabbed his arm and steered him down the stairs.
"We don't have much time," she said as she hustled him along. "The Two Stooges will be heading to the Greenhouses by now."
"Who? Why?"
"The Lestrange brothers of course. It's the only time we can get them alone."
"No, I mean, why are they going there all by themselves in the first place? And why are we going after them?"
"To help themselves to potions ingredients on the sly. Probably to make poisons and for other slimy snakey purposes. And to answer your second question, so you can complete you mission, duh!"
"How do you know about that?!" Harry demanded, feeling cold in the pit of his stomach. Had he and Ron been compromised already? Had somebody stuck listening charms or tracking charms on either one of them? He would have to check them both thoroughly.
"That's not important, what is important is that they can tell you how the Dark Tosser communicates with his lickspittles here at Hogwarts."
"And they're just going to 'fess up to us are they?" he said sarcastically.
"Sure they will. With the right motivation." She extracted a small vial of crystal-clear liquid from her pocket.
Harry's eyebrows raised. "Veritaserum? Where exactly did you get a Ministry-controlled substance from?"
"Nicked it," she said cheekily, thrusting it into his hand. By this point they'd reached Greenhouse Five. Pushing him down onto one of the outside benches, the girl plopped down onto Harry's lap and urged him to wrap them in his Cloak. Not a moment too soon, as the sound of footsteps approached. It was indeed Rudolphus and Rastaban Lestrange who slipped into the Greenhouse, after furtively checking that nobody else was around.
'Muriel' hopped off his lap and carefully crept to the entrance, making sure to stay lower than the windows. Pulling something small out of her pocket, she eased the door open a fraction, then tossed the object into the room and dived out of the way. The Greenhouse was filled with a bright red flash.
"And that's the end of that chapter," she announced, flicking her braid back over her shoulder with a satisfied air. Dragging the invisible Harry into the Greenhouse, she firmly closed the door and approached two unconscious Slytherins. "Now we can get to work."
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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….
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It was long past curfew by the time Harry returned to the mysterious Chamber of Secrets. Opening the main gate, he blanched at the horrific sight that met his eyes as the giant and ominous metal door rolled aside.
Ron had clearly taken Harry at his word, for the enormous chamber had been completely remodelled since the morning. The walls and ceiling were now a hideous neon orange colour. The stone floor was painted a tasteless browny-beige that clashed horribly with the rest of the room. The walls were covered with Chudley Cannons posters and banners, interspersed with posters of league tables and photographs of famous players. Towering over all, the huge and chilling granite statute of Salazar Slytherin that sneered down at them had somehow been transfigured, so that the legendary Founder was now wearing a Cannons scarf, sporting a Cannons logo on his breast, and holding a Cannons flag. Even the flaming torches had shifted from their eerie green eldritch luminescence to an obnoxious orange.
The furniture was little better. Beds, wardrobes and wizarding shower stalls in the 'finest' Art Deco styles were arranged in some arcane pattern that eluded Harry's understanding. Faux-marble statues of cavorting nymphs, proud centaurs, and chthonic tentacle monsters rounded out the furnishings.
As he witnessed the orange monstrosity that the fabled chamber of muggles' doom had become, he wondered for the first time if maybe, just maybe, they had finally crossed the line and gone too far in their war against Voldemort.
"You sure took ya time!" Ron exclaimed as he stepped out of his shower stall, clad in an official Cannons-endorsed towel. He flicked his damp, lustrous golden locks out of his eyes.
"Um, yeah. I've been busy. And so have you, by the looks of things. Been doing a bit of shopping have we?"
"Yep, Kreacher was a big help! Must've bought up half the things for sale in Diagon and Knockturn alley with a possible side trip to Hogsmeade! Little guy's an amazingly good shopper. Then he helped me organise all the furniture and decorations. He's going to make someone a very happy husband one day. Pity he's such a revolting pillock."
"And how much have the two of you set me back?"
Ron shrugged cheerfully as he threw on a Cannons official shirt over his broad muscular chest. "Do you really care? It's a better use of House Black's gold than buying dark artefacts and muggle slaves."
"Point."
"So what do you think of the décor?" He waved a hand expansively.
"I think the Secret behind Salazar's choice of colour palette has been solved," Harry commented sardonically. "But this is sure going to mystify some wizarding archaeologist a few hundred years from now."
Ron shrugged, not being able to dredge up any concern for wizarding nerds who'd exist long after he was gone. "The paint job's not done yet. It's going to take the self-painting brushes a week or two to finish, since there's only 20 of them. This is only the base level; it'll need a few days to dry before we can add the second, third and fourth layers of paint. But it's worth it; once done, the colours will be even more bright and vibrant, and the paint tins say that if done properly, it'll last for a thousand years!"
"Is that so?" he commented in dread.
"I'm paggered," Ron announced, dropping onto his bed dramatically. "Transfiguring that bloody statue all day has worn me out."
"It is an impressive feat of magic," Harry admitted. Aesthetically displeasing, but impressive nonetheless. He walked over to what he assumed was his wardrobe and looked inside for some nightwear. "What is this?!" The entire wardrobe was filled with midnight-black clothing; robes, dragonhide armour, leather boots, top hats, formal shirts and vests. The family crest was sewn or embossed onto everything. He picked up a satin shirt to examine.
"Your fault – you did order Kreacher to get you clothes befitting a Lord of the House of Black," Ron sniggered.
"I'm gonna look like a bloody vampire," Harry grumbled, eyeing the shimmering material. "One that sparkles, no less." Closing the door, he got down to business. "I need your help, if you can manage it. I've got a couple things I need obliviated." He pulled two white balls of fluff out of his pocket.
"Don't tell me that's…"
"The amazing bouncing albino ferrets!" Harry laughed. With a swish of his wand, they transfigured back into a slumbering Rudolphus and Rastaban.
"What happened?"
"Interrogated them," he said casually. "But now we've got to erase their memories of the last few hours and leave them somewhere."
"I know! Let's draw all over their skin with permanent markers and then stick them to the ceiling outside the Slytherin common room in their underwear! That way everyone will think it was an ordinary prank, and nobody will suspect what we're really up to."
"That's brilliant, Ron! I've got their wands here too."
"Snap 'em and put 'em in their underwear. Their daddies can afford new ones."
"Let's get started. Sooner we're done the sooner we can rest. I'm feeling a bit sleepy myself. Kreacher! Fetch me some permanent markers!"
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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….
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"So what's the deal with this girl?" Ron asked, as they completed their artistic endeavour.
"Dunno; she disappeared off somewhere while I was interrogating Cheech and Chong. Didn't have a chance to ask her name."
"What did Marauders' Map say?"
"I … damn, I'm such a twonk!" Harry kicked himself for his stupidity. He pulled the Map out and scanned it, as if he could divine the girl's identity hours after the fact. But he was too late. The Map showed nobody else in the entire area.
Ron just shook his head in pity. "You like her."
"Do not!"
"Yes you do. You spent the afternoon with her, broke a whole bunch of school rules and laws with her, and when she won't tell you her name, you just let it go!"
"I –"
"You see, you've always had a huge weakness for two types of girls: redheads and Asians," Ron lectured. "Veela too, I guess, judging by the way you and Fleur were mooning at each other during the Triwiz."
"That never happened! You were just being an insufferable jealous prat!"
"And now," Ron continued as if he hadn't heard Harry's objection, "the first redhead who comes along that doesn't treat you like dirt, and you're putty in her hands! Guess you'll have to go tell your Mum you're breaking up with her."
"Aargh! Stop saying things like that!"
"'S only the truth."
"That's a pretty harsh thing to say to someone who slept in your bed with you for three years!"
"Argh! Fine! Truce?"
"Truce."
"So have you figured out how she knew what we were doing?"
"No; I checked and double-checked every item we have. There isn't a listening charm or tracking charm on anything."
"Unless it's something we can't detect …"
"Yeah," Harry conceded uncomfortably.
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