Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR

Note: In this chapter I'm taking a lot of liberties with certain magical lore and creating my own version of facts in this particular case which will become apparent as you read on.

Thank you all for the reviews! and Happy Birthday j3551! mine was on the 24th, yay for august birthdays!

And thank you Liria Nai for being my beta. :D

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Last time: Harry begins his search for information pertaining to Helga's past in order to figure out why there are people after her. Greer and Darcy are equally curious and offer to help Harry uncover the truth. Salazar is not thrilled about this but seems to willing to stand aside, or at least not interfere, possibly because he has little faith in Harry discovering anything important. (little does he know Harry's track record in unearthing secrets.)

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Chapter 20

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Having solved mysteries before, though admittedly with the help of one Hermione Granger, I felt fairly confident in my abilities to figure out what was going on with Helga and the mysterious, fake fiancé. The fact that I had a lot to learn about the politics of this time was a little disheartening. For some reason, I guess I assumed that there was still a Ministry of Magic or something, or no real government at all.

'Sometimes it pains me how stupid and naïve I can be.'

Salazar seemed a little less than enthusiastic about my detective work, but so far he didn't seem like he was going to stop me. I thought better of directly asking Helga while she was still shut up in her green house. Asking about it later might be a better idea.

Unsurprisingly, I was immediately accosted by Darcy and Greer as I made my way up the dungeon stairs.

"So?" Greer pulled me into an empty classroom, "What did he tell you?"

"What makes you think he would tell me anything?"

"Well," Darcy shrugged glancing at Greer with a small smirk, "did he?"

"No," I rolled my eyes, "but I intend to find out what's going on."

"And how are you going to do that?" Darcy frowned.

"I'm going to start by asking what you know. You already have theories about two outside groups that, under different circumstances, might be after Lady Helga. Are there any books on wizard genealogy anywhere in the library?" I frowned at their confused expressions, "What can you tell me about the Hufflepuff line?" I tried.

"The Hufflepuff line?" Greer said thoughtfully. "Well, they are an old pureblood family, though not of any significant power. As far as wealth goes, they are very well off, but the Hufflepuffs are notorious for staying out of political conflicts and more or less keep to their own business. I'm not sure if there's anything in the library about pureblood lineage…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"Well, I'm not sure if it has anything to do with her family anyway, but the information might help narrow down who would be after her. How did he get into Hogwarts anyway?"

"Front door?" Greer raised an eyebrow as though I had asked something stupid, "There are wards that track intruders and lead them to the closest professor's office, usually Slytherin's unless they sneak in through a window, but most of the time they snap out of it when they come to the dungeon stairs. Kind of funny really."

"I think that you might be on to something, Harry." Darcy interjected, "There might be something we're overlooking, and maybe there's something about the Hufflepuff family that has something to do with all this. I will send an owl to my sister and see if she can send me a copy of their family history."

"How will your sister get all that?" I asked curiously.

"Aside from the usual family tapestries, almost every pureblood family possesses a scroll that records marriages and births of other pureblood families. They are all synchronized so every scroll is the same. Families also keep a second scroll containing information, mostly of scandals and insults, about other pureblood houses. The Erde family has about twenty paragraphs of embarrassing dirt in our family's second scroll."

"I see. Well, it might help." I said, not quite sure if I really wanted to sift through scandalous events recorded by pureblood elitists. My next step would be trying to talk to the other founders, though for some reason I felt like that was the wrong direction.

"What can I do?" Greer interrupted my thoughts.

"You can get working on our project," Darcy answered, "and I will join you after I send my owl."

"But Slytherin hasn't left the entrance open. How am I supposed to-?"

"Get Harry to help you."

"Oh yeah," Greer looked like several new possibilities had suddenly opened up to him.

"I'm not sure if… what's your project?" My tone turned suspicious. What exactly could Salazar be concocting down in his chamber that he would allow two students to work on?

"Well, I guess it would be okay if you knew about it. But you can't tell anyone that we told you, preferably not even Slytherin."

"Why not?" I frowned.

"Well, we are kind of working on… a… well... Slytherin hasn't really had the time to work on this himself, so we're helping. No one else knows about this, because we aren't sure it will work, and if anyone else knew about it… well… lets just say there would be a lot of people who would be against it."

"Why?" I asked again, folding my arms. "What are you and Salazar up to?"

"Mmmm, I guess you'll just have to come and find out." Greer looked as if he would start laughing. Sighing, I figured I would go along with him. My curiosity had been stirred at any rate.

XXXXX

And dear Merlin, so help me if this wasn't what I thought it was.

Salazar had an egg. A really, really, big egg. I could wrap my arms around it and just touch my fingers together on the other side, it was that enormous.

The shell was white, speckled grey-green, and soft, unlike a chicken's egg, so if I were to put my hand to it the shell would indent. The soft material was somewhat translucent, and I could make out the shape of a long body curled over itself inside.

"Basilisk." I whispered, eyes wide.

"Wha? How did you know?" Greer looked a little put out, as if I had just taken away a favorite toy.

"I come from the future remember?" I said ruefully, recalling my face off with the Basilisk in my second year. "I met a basilisk once. It tried to kill me. Luckily I had a phoenix on my side at the time."

"How big was it? I look at this egg and think that this snake must get to be at least thirty feet long. Can they really kill with their eyes? How did you survive? You could talk to it, right?"

"I'm sure it was at least fifty feet," I placed a hand over the egg, "a lot of my friends got petrified because they were lucky and hadn't met the Snake's full gaze. I only survived because the headmaster had a phoenix and it came to help me by gouging out the snakes eyes. Then it bit me." I put a hand to my shoulder and anger burned through me at the thought of Dumbledore. If I ever saw him again, it would be too soon.

"You were bit by a Basilisk and didn't die? You're having me on. We've researched Basilisks and they're supposed to have the most deadly venom in existence. How are you still alive?"

"I told you. I had a phoenix help me." I pulled my robe open and stretched the collar of my t-shirt to my shoulder to give Greer a good look at the scar that the giant snake had given me.

"Merlin, you weren't kidding," Greer's eyes were wide. "You uh… don't have a grudge against them do you?"

"No," I answered, "but I have a grudge against the man who controlled it."

"So… you aren't going to come back and murder a baby snake in its sleep, right?"

"Hardly," I bit my lip. I wasn't that kind of person. Being friends with Hagrid for as long as I have, I couldn't judge a creature by its deadly nature. This was probably the same snake that had tried to kill me when I was twelve, but Salazar was going to be controlling it, not… not him. "I trust Salazar."

"Whew. Okay, well then I guess I can rest easy." Greer ran a hand through his hair.

"You know… I think I recall that a Basilisk came from a chicken's egg… hatched under a toad or something. This really doesn't look like a chicken's egg."

"That's 'cause it isn't. That's all wrong, you got it backwards. It's gotta be a toad's or a snake's egg. This is from a King Cobra that Salazar summoned. Just a plain old mundane snake."

"But… then how did that turn into this?"

"It's gotta be incubated by a goldhen, but you see a goldhen is really too warm for any sort of egg that's not her own, and she can only sit on it for short periods. In the mean time Darcy and I take measurements and document its growth. Did you know a family of muggles got a hold of a goldhen? Merlin was that a big scandal."

"What exactly is a goldhen?" I asked with a frown.

"It's a big magic chicken that lays golden eggs!" Greer grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him. "I'll show you, but before you get your hopes up, the eggs aren't made of real gold."

"I promise my hopes aren't that high." I said wryly, allowing Greer to tug me along. I had never seen a goldhen, much less a golden hen, but it did sound interesting.

XXXXX

At dinner that night I sat next to Marius as per previous dinners before the broom incident. The boy looked at me as if I could do no wrong.

I don't know if hero worship was the right word, but the term seemed to fit.

Reaching for my beloved salad fork, I started in on my dinner with Marius and Cicero following suit. It might have been because of Cicero's failed attempt at managing his laughter, or it could have been because Marius was using his dinner fork for his salad, hell it might have been because of something completely unrelated. Either way, something in Salazar snapped.

"That is quite enough." He said quietly, turning the full force of his glare down the table at the three of us. Victoria was not present at the table, thus I was one seat closer to the man, and one seat farther away from escape.

"I am banning salad forks from your table setting." Salazar continued, and with a wave of his hand my beloved salad fork vanished along with the salad forks of his sons. Replacing them were two slim sticks of polished wood, and as Salazar turned his eyes to the utensils, I suddenly felt that it had been a very, very bad idea to even consider having a back up plan. For some reason Salazar did not seem to be in a forgiving mood.

Silently I stared down at my plate and prayed he would ignore the chopsticks.

Of course I knew he wouldn't. And then, as if it couldn't get any worse everyone else's salad forks were suddenly replaced with chopsticks. The gasps of surprise and the murmurs of curiosity rose throughout the great hall.

"What are these?" Gryffindor asked holding one stick in each hand.

"That was a surprisingly intelligent question, Godric." Salazar's eyes remained fixed to my person. "Tell us, Harry, what are they?"

"Th-that is… um… ahahaha." I picked up the eating utensils and demonstrated how to hold them, "They're called chopsticks and you eat with them, like this." I picked up a carrot and ate it quickly.

"What an interesting method of… dining." Rowena picked up her chopsticks and made a reasonable attempt at using them. Better then Godric's multiple failing attempts, anyway. He held one stick in each hand and was spearing his food only to be disappointed when it slid off the smooth polished wood and back onto his plate.

Abruptly, Salazar stood from the table. For a moment I thought he was going to haul me to the dungeons and feed me to some nasty creature from his potion's cabinet. But instead he walked right passed me and was halfway to the door before I figured out what he was going to do.

The house elf. He was going to punish the house elf. That was the only thing I could think of. He really wasn't the kind of person to make a scene in a hall full of people, so he must be headed for the kitchens.

"Oh crap!" I hissed and hurried after him. No way was I about to let a house elf take the fall for me.

I raced out of the hall just in time to see the hem of Salazar's outer robes disappear behind a corner.

"Salazar, wait!" I called, running after him. As I rounded the corner I found my self roughly shoved against the nearest wall.

"And what do you have to say for yourself." Salazar asked with a deceptively calm voice.

"It's not the house elf's fault. It's mine. It was just a silly prank." I said quickly.

"You knew I was headed to the kitchens," his lips thinned into a cold smile, "and now I'm supposed to believe you have compassion for house elves?"

"Got a problem with that?" I said defiantly, "One risked his life for me, and I'm not in the habit of letting someone else take responsibility for my actions. He was just doing what I asked him to do."

"All house elves would risk their lives for their masters."

"He wasn't mine. His master was plotting to kill me and my friends. For all purposes he was betraying his family for me." Although, the way Dobby had gone about the whole thing had been rather annoying if not down right dangerous at times, but the intention was not lost on me.

Salazar seemed to evaluate my words carefully and pulled back a bit.

"All right, that leaves one house elf off the hook, but you are still fair game."

"Oh, what," I folded my arms across my chest and glared up at him, "it was just a stupid prank."

"One that has disrupted dinner and-,"

"And you are just crabby or something. I thought you were over the salad fork thing by now."

"I've tolerated it in hopes that it would eventually lose its appeal. I assumed you only did it to aggravate me."

"Well… maybe a little," I admitted sheepishly, "But I honestly just like the smaller fork better."

"So you admit it." He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me along behind him. We were still headed in the direction of the kitchen.

"Wait a minute, where are we going? I thought I convinced you not to-," And we passed by the portrait of the fruit bowl and continued towards the dungeon. Now I was really starting to freak out. "Hey, just where do you think you're taking me?"

"Like I said before, you are still fair game." Salazar's grip tightened around my wrist and even as I tried to stop and tug free, I knew it was futile. He was still physically stronger. Eventually, I decided dead weight was the way to go. If I couldn't beat him, I'd make it as difficult as possible.

"Let me go!" I hissed, pulling at his fingers, trying to tug my hand away. After dragging me a few feet he stopped to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder. "Hey! I'm not a sack of potatoes. Put me down." And so I whined all the way down to the dungeons.

"You are being awfully loud." Salazar complained, and a moment later I was still yelling but no sound came out. I smacked him on the back in frustration, and received a sharp pinch on the back of my thigh for my efforts.

That hurt.

Finally, we reached Salazar's destination, his potions class room. I hoped with all my might he wasn't really mad. I didn't need this kind of stress.

"Now, I have a task for you to complete." He set me down on my feet but kept a tight grip on my arm. "You are going to crush seven cauldrons worth of tweeter beetles, caterpillars, slugs, and frog kidneys, and you will enjoy it."

XXXXX

And that was how I found my self calf deep in slug guts in nothing but my boxers and a t-shirt. And despite the sheer grossness of the situation, I could not deny that it felt ridiculously good. Salazar set up a tub in which I was to stand as creatures squirmed between my toes. He set it up right next to his desk at the front of the room so I had a table to hold onto. I couldn't afford to slip given that I'd contaminate the batch if my clothes came into contact with whatever nasty creatures I was crushing.

Apparently the oils in human skin mixed well for these particular creepy crawlies, which was unfortunate for anyone receiving detention from a potions professor.

The down side to all of this, besides the disgusting part, was that Salazar had done that sensory heightening charm again, only it was localized. The bastard had a really twisted sense of humor. The charm extended only as far as my ankles from the bottom of my feet, so it wasn't nearly as intense as the first time I had suffered under it.

Rather than feel like I had to find release, it just tickled like crazy because of the squirming squishy things.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that Salazar was right there, grading papers, and I had to keep my mouth shut as my feet were tortured by tickling feelers or slimy slug guts.

My only reprieve came when I finished murdering the soon to be potion ingredients and Salazar had to switch them out for a fresh batch.

"That was the last one. Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes. Don't play pranks on Salazar, he has absolutely no sense of humor. Wait, I want to amend that statement. I meant to say that he has no sense of clean humor, only bitter irony and possibly gutter humor." I gratefully hopped up on his desk as he levitated the last tub of caterpillar guts into a cauldron in the ingredients storeroom. "Ugh, that had to be the strangest punishment I've ever been given. Yuck."

"I suppose I'll have to forgive you now." He said in mock disappointment.

"Darn right!" I declared and nearly fell off his desk when Salazar's cleaning charm took me by surprise. "Sheesh that tickles, can't you give a guy a break?"

"Not a chance." Salazar grabbed one of my feet and I held back a startled yelp when his fingers curled around the top of my foot and his thumb pressed firmly against my sole's arch. I tried to tug it back and pondered over whether I should kick him when he wouldn't let go.

"Th-that tickles, stop it. That- ah, okay, ooh don't stop that… oh that feels divine." I squirmed as his thumbs rubbed firm circles over the bottom of my foot. Never in my life had I experienced a foot massage, and the sensory charm was a serious added bonus.

"Only because you were so quiet while I was grading essays."

"Merlin, Salazar, I might have to ask for sporks instead of chopsticks next time. I'd squash fifty cauldrons worth of slimy disgusting creatures if you promise to do this… to my feet again." I leaned back on my elbows and bit my lip as those wonderful fingers worked their magic.

"What's a spork?" Salazar moved to my other foot and I closed my eyes in bliss.

"A spork it… um… ah right there, yeah. It's kind of like a spoon with little prongs on the ends. Like a spoon-fork."

"It sounds odd."

"I think so too." I said absently.

"I'm not sure if you really learned your lesson here." Salazar paused in his ministrations and I did my best to refrain from whining in protest.

"Well, I promise there will be no sporks if you keep moving those hands. And I promise I'll even use my dinner fork once in a while if you will give me another foot massage sometime in the near future."

"How about this, I will give you a full-body massage if you use your dining utensils as they are meant to be used."

"You have a deal." I declared fervently.