"Harry, I would like to know where you have been all day." Professor Dumbledore looked gravely at the boy sitting in the chair across the desk.
Harry looked back expressionlessly. "Hiding from the 'cupids' Professor Lockhart sent out."
"Where?" Dumbledore pressed.
"Here, there, all over the place, actually." Harry shrugged. "I learned that staying in one place is just asking to be found."
It was February the fifteenth, the morning after Valentine's Day. When Harry had left his workshop to return to Gryffindor tower, he found Neville waiting for him with a message from Professor McGonagall to see the Headmaster in the morning. Given the level of rule-breaking going on in Hogwarts, Harry personally felt that he was being called up more for the fact that he managed to elude everyone else for the whole day rather than the fact that he skipped classes.
Dumbledore strikes me as the type who prefers a high level of control over whatever he can. Archer murmured.
My thought exactly. Harry replied dryly.
He felt the beginning of a mental probe, and quickly shattered it by flashing one circuit on and off quickly. Dumbledore seemed surprised by that, before his face took on a grim tone. As Harry continued to make eye contact, the aged wizard leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk and interlacing his fingers in front of his mouth. The sunlight shining through the windows struck his spectacles, making them look opaque to Harry's point of view. It was intimidating enough that Harry had to force himself a little in order to remain calm.
...one of the best Gendou impressions I've ever seen. Archer commented. A bit spoiled by the beard, though.
Who?
Never mind, I'll tell you later.
"Am I correct to assume that you have been making use of the Cloak?"
Harry nodded. "It has proved very useful, and never more so than today."
Dumbledore sighed. "I wish you would trust me more, Harry."
Heck no. I may respect you, but I doubt I will ever trust you. Don't think I have forgotten your unwillingness to answer my questions last year. Harry thought silently, but out loud he said, "If there's nothing else, sir, I'll be heading for my next class?"
There was another probe, but Harry broke it as easily as he did the first. Grimacing on the inside, Harry resolved to look up the laws on the use of mind magics when he got the chance. For some reason, he was sure it would prove useful.
In the end, Dumbledore dismissed him, but not without giving him a detention with Professor Flitwick to make up for the class he missed yesterday. Harry didn't mind; he intended to use the personal time to find out more about wizarding dueling from the man himself.
Harry headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, and sat at the Hufflepuff table together with those in his year. Out of the other three Houses, the Hufflepuffs were the most welcoming, and they rarely said anything about having outsiders join them at meals, if ever. Harry always found no lack of conversation partners whenever he was there.
Zacharias Smith spoke up moments after he sat down. "Heard you managed to dodge those dwarves all day yesterday."
Harry nodded as he filled his plate. "Apparently they nearly tore up the tower looking for me there."
"So where did you hide out, then?"
"Here, there, all over the place." Harry gave the same story he gave Dumbledore. "When you're trying to hide in a place like this, moving around constantly is the best."
As long as they can't ask the portraits for help, that is. Archer said, nodding to himself.
The Hufflepuffs made sounds of comprehension, and turned their attention back to their food. But that reprieve was only temporary, as others leaned closer to ask about other things, the Dueling Club, the Hogwarts Herald, what Student Council event was going to happen next...
Harry had an interesting time discussing the current political situation of the British Wizarding World with Ernie Macmillan. While he already knew it wasn't very favorable with apparent bribery and corruption, there were some parts of it Harry felt he could take advantage of to protect himself. Being an orphan that had a large degree of fame and political clout meant he would have enemies and people who wished to use him for their own ends; once again, he was grateful for Archer's existence, or he might have continued to grow up in ignorance of the threats lurking around him.
But I'm not going to drop migrating as an option. Harry mused as he finished off the last of his lunch.
Archer was listening, like he always did. Just be sure to cover all your bases.
That evening, Harry turned up at Flitwick's office on the seventh floor for his detention. From what he heard, Sprout made students help her out in the greenhouses, McGonagall normally handed detentions off to Filch, and Snape normally made people clean out contaminated cauldrons, but he had no idea of what Flitwick did, plus it was his first time having detention with the wizard. But he wasn't really thinking about that at the moment, because he was holding a conversation with Archer in his mind.
So you think it's risky for me to hold onto the diary? Harry asked Archer.
The spirit nodded. There's a risk that it might possess you, remember. I know you write in it indirectly, but we have no idea if that is a completely safe solution.
I know. Still, there's quite a lot to be gained from the diary at the moment, The boy replied, Such as the location of the Chamber itself, and maybe how he used to control it. Remember the time I talked to that snake? It had its own free will. I bet that if not for whatever magic that's keeping it in control, the Basilisk would probably be the same.
Archer didn't reply, but Harry knew the spirit well enough to recognize agreement.
But that's not the only thing, Harry went on, Now that I know the prana smell that thing has been putting off represents a soul fragment, that means there's another such soul fragment-containing item in the Room. I don't know whether the similar smell means that they're both from Voldemort, but if it is, what if they aren't the only ones?
Archer's mood turned grim. Harry, are you familiar with the beings known as liches?
Harry frowned as he tried to recall some of the stuff from the fantasy books he had read. They're a type of undead, aren't they? However, they're different from zombies and skeletons because... because...
The door Harry was waiting next to suddenly creaked open, making him jump in surprise. In his mind, Archer muttered to him to postpone their current discussion till later. As Harry calmed down, Professor Flitwick poked his head out.
"Mr Potter, I was wondering what was taking you." The small wizard squeaked.
Harry quickly thought up an excuse. "Sorry, Professor. I thought you were busy with someone, seeing your door was closed."
"Well, that's quite alright. Come on in, then!" Flitwick said, suddenly cheerier than he was a moment ago.
Harry wasn't sure what to expect of Flitwick's office, but he wasn't too surprised; it was natural for the Head of Ravenclaw to have many books in his office. He noticed a shelf on the wall holding several trophies, all of which, Harry found on sharpening his eyesight, were awarded to Flitwick for his victories on the professional dueling circuit.
"Noticed my trophies, have you?" chirped Flitwick. "I guessed you would. You have an aptitude for dueling, I noticed." The wizard changed the hard wooden chair facing the normal-sized desk into a plushy armchair with a flick of his wand, and went to sit in his elevated seat, somehow managing to be on eye level with Harry. "Go on, have a seat, Mr Potter."
"Thanks, Professor." Harry sat down and waited for Flitwick to continue.
"I don't blame you for your actions yesterday, Mr Potter. Those dwarves were a nightmare, I tell you! Barging into classrooms wanting to give their singing Valentines... ooh, I have half a mind to show that Lockhart what I think of..." Flitwick suddenly caught Harry's stare and coughed. "Er-hem, excuse that outburst."
Harry just shook his head, his lips quirking slightly.
"Well, anyway..." Flitwick continued, pink-cheeked, "I wouldn't have given you a detention, but we teachers have appearances to maintain. Shall we just talk for the duration of this detention then?"
"Sure." He tried not to sound too eager.
Flitwick's expression became pleased, and he tapped his wand on the desk, causing a plate of brownies and two cups of milk to appear. Harry recalled McGonagall's lessons, particularly the law that stated food could not be made from nothing, but the smell of house elf magic clued him in to the trick behind the deed. Somehow, Harry thought about how mundane sleight of hand could be applied to actual magic.
"Ask away then, Mr Potter! Any interesting theories on Charms, perhaps?"
Harry grinned. "Well, sir, maybe you could tell me about..."
The two of them had a long discussion about wizarding dueling, one that was very informative to Harry. He brought up tricks and tactics he read about, and Flitwick eagerly provided instances where he encountered or utilized those, displaying his expertise despite not having participating in a duel for the past several years. It was an enlightening experience for Harry, but he could tell that the man's style was not for him. In its own way, it was limited.
Flitwick was waving his wand in several complicated motions. "Spell chains can be nasty and vicious, but they have a weakness. Any dueler worth his wand can recognize the most basic of spell chains, and the more accomplished ones can actually predict the next spell from the movements of their opponent's wand. Thus, they can be countered in the right situation." He explained.
"I normally thought spell chains were meant to deliver a number of spells too fast for an opponent to counter, breaking down his shield?" asked Harry.
"Yes, but everyone has their own specific rhythm. When one tries to cast as fast as he possibly can, he will inevitably enter into a rhythm of his own. There was this duel I witnessed once, between a witch and a wizard. The wizard was casting so quickly it almost looked like a continuous beam of multicolored light, but the witch wasn't the least bit pressured." Flitwick had a faraway gaze as he talked. "Her wand moved just as fast as his did, blocking and deflecting so naturally... then it happened. No one expected it, between the space of one wave and another, she jabbed her wand like a striking cobra, and the wizard lost."
He's quite the good storyteller. Harry decided. "So when does one use spell chains?"
Flitwick blinked and focused back on Harry. "Ah... that's a tricky question, truth be told. Many people have said different things, but for me personally, I use them as a sort of finisher."
"Professor... have you ever fought in an actual wizarding fight, no rules?"
The friendly atmosphere evaporated slightly at the mention of that topic. "A few times, and they were in defense of this school. It is... different from the tournaments."
"No restriction on spells, larger field of movement?" Harry guessed.
He received a nod in response. "It is VERY different, I can tell you," said Flitwick, stressing the word, "Facing someone who actively wishes you harm adds an entirely new dimension. That's one of the reasons why those wishing to become Aurors go through an intense training regime."
Inside Harry's mind, Archer could sense his host's thoughts of facing Quirrellmort, and the negative emotions associated with that memory. Next time, Harry, He told the boy, You'll be ready for him.
"Enough of that dreary topic. Are you hoping to become a professional dueler in the future, Mr Potter?" inquired Flitwick.
Harry thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I can't see myself doing that."
Flitwick seemed surprised. "Most boys your age would jump at the chance to become a professional dueler, or a professional Quidditch player."
"Most boys do not live through a Killing Curse, Professor." Harry deadpanned.
The small wizard chuckled. "Touché. But you still wish to learn, don't you? I can tell."
Harry nodded. "It's a useful skill to have, in my opinion."
Flitwick started to speak, then noticed the clock. "Oh my! Time really has flown! You'd best get back to your dorm quick, Mr Potter, if you don't want to be caught outside by Argus Filch."
Harry nodded and left quickly. Flitwick promised to direct him to books that would help him develop the skill set he wanted.
Minutes later, his body was lying in bed while his awareness was inside Archer's world of blades. But he wasn't sparring against Archer. Not yet.
"I give up, what's so special about liches?" Harry asked Archer as he performed warm up stretches.
"They are effectively immortal as long as they satisfy a certain condition."
Harry was quick to see what Archer was hinting at. "You mean, Voldemort's like a lich? And that's how he could stay alive after supposedly dying back in 1981? What's that condition then?"
"Liches remain 'alive' as long as their phylactery, which they use to hold their soul, remains safe and protected." Archer explained.
Harry considered what he was hearing. "So... Voldemort did the same?"
Archer shook his head. "Not exactly. What was in that diary wasn't a complete soul, as you already know. While I'm not familiar with the magic of your world, my guess is that these soul fragments accomplish the same task as the phylactery I mentioned."
"I think I get it..." Harry said slowly, "The magical theory of sympathy... that means with these soul fragments... anchoring the main piece to this world, Voldemort can't pass on to death. Is this how he did it, then?"
The white-haired man nodded. "Most likely. Once again, the nature of magic in this world makes it hard to confirm that theory, but it is the only thing we've got right now."
Harry thought about the relation between legend and the truth of magic; somehow his instincts told him that they were on the right track, but he wasn't willing to pin all his hopes without some concrete proof. That was the problem with magic; just about anything seemed possible. If one wasn't careful, he could miss the important things just by the dint of not thinking about it.
He shook his head. Sometimes, magic was more troublesome than it was worth. In times like this, he preferred magecraft instead, despite both being somewhat similar. Mentally, he added 'Research into magic regarding souls' to his list of things to do.
The sound of metal coming out of dirt made him look up, barely in time to catch the sword Archer tossed towards him.
As Harry scrambled to his feet, Archer Traced his own twin blades. "Let's check your progress."
Tightening his jaw, Harry thrust his thoughts about the earlier issue away and prepared to fight.
As February turned to March, Harry went through his list of things to do once more. Now that he had Riddle's Book effectively neutralized, he didn't have to worry about any future attacks. However, he was the only one who knew that, and unless he gave up the diary and the secrets it held, no one else would know; the rest of the castle would have no choice but to endure the roosters' crowing.
Speaking of the diary, it kept trying to ensnare him with whatever unorthodox piece of compulsion magic that was on it, and he didn't like having to keep flashing a circuit because of the memory invoked. Twice already Harry had caught himself just short of reaching for the diary to write in it while he was distracted by something else, and after the last time, he purposely stored it in a small case he had picked up from the Room of Hidden Things, and added a bounded field for good measure. And that was enough to curb the compulsion.
There were still items left on his list of things to do, namely locating the Chamber of Secrets. The remainder of the list could be postponed, but Harry was considering looking into Black's case again. For now, he had a few people to question.
"Hagrid, can I ask you something?" Harry was working on Sirius Black's bike again.
He wasn't alone this time. Harry had purposely arranged for Luna to come along, and had Su and Tracey tag along as well. While Hagrid normally clammed up when anybody mentioned his expulsion, Harry had discovered a new angle to work from.
"Sure, what d'yeh wanna know?" Hagrid chuckled loudly as he nudged a tin of homemade cookies over to the girls.
"Are you familiar with the name Tom Riddle?"
Harry wasn't looking directly at Hagrid, but he certainly could feel the change in atmosphere; Hagrid shifted from friendly to wary in an instant, and the girls noticed it as well.
"How, how d'yeh know that name?"
Underlying tone of anger... directed at someone who isn't here, most likely Riddle. "I saw it on one of the trophies. Wondered if you knew the guy."
"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Hagrid replied gruffly.
"Who's this Riddle?" Tracey asked curiously.
"He was a Slytherin who was Head Boy back in the forties, got a Special Award for Services to the School." Harry explained as he continued to sketch in his notebook. "As far as I can tell, that's the same period the Chamber of Secrets was said to be opened before."
Su gasped. "Does that mean that-!"
Harry glanced over his shoulder to see the Chinese girl look at Hagrid with a bit of fear.
"But Hagrid didn't open it, did he?" Luna suddenly said. "Hagrid can't be the Heir of Slytherin."
"I agree. Hagrid, you're not... Slytherin enough." Tracey announced.
"T-thanks, I guess?"
"It was probably the work of Wrackspurts." Luna concluded in her dreamy manner. "They make people go all fuzzy."
"And miss the hidden truth for the covering lies." Harry elaborated for the rest.
The time he spent with Luna had given him a bit of insight into the girl's character. While Harry had yet to find any concrete information about the creatures the blonde spoke of, he had come to realize that they were actually hints and clues about whatever issue that was being discussed at that moment. Breaking the code was always interesting.
"That means... you were framed?" Su asked Hagrid.
"Ye-yeh don' think I did it?" The large-sized man asked, a sob in his voice.
"Of course not... I think." Tracey added at the end. "I mean, you do tend to mix around with... big creatures." She put delicately. "One of them could have ran, and then..."
"Never!" Hagrid bellowed, making all of them jump. "Aragog would never kill no one! He wouldn'!"
"Aragog?" Harry, Su, and Tracey all asked.
"I would like to meet Aragog." Luna smiled, making the other three students look at her in disbelief.
Time to step in. "Wait, wait, wait... firstly, what sort of creature is Aragog?" Harry interrupted the others to ask.
Hagrid hemmed and hawed, but eventually muttered something that Harry picked up over the crackling of the flames in the fireplace only by the dint of his Reinforcement.
"An Acromantula?" He repeated in disbelief.
Su and Luna gasped, clearly recognizing the name of a magical and highly dangerous arachnid.
Tracey was the only one who didn't know anything about it. "What's an Acromatula?" She asked.
Harry graciously provided the answer with what information he could recall through his shock. "Giant spider, usually around Hagrid's size. With a pair of sharp pincers for hands. Carnivorous."
Tracey shivered, and huddled closer to Su. "I'm sorry I asked."
"It wasn' Aragog!" Hagrid insisted. "But no one would believe me, so I got expelled."
"Those Wrackspurts are quite the problem." Luna remarked.
Harry ignored the ditzy girl. "Well, one thing's for sure. Hagrid didn't do it, but he got framed for it. A Basilisk is totally different from an Acromantula anyway."
"Wait," Su said suddenly, "Then what about Tom Riddle? Unless he was the one who..."
"Framed Hagrid." finished Tracey.
"They couldn' prove it." Hagrid said gruffly. "Tom was a prefect, so they believed him. Not me. Only Dumbledore didn'... great man, Dumbledore."
Tracey met Harry's eyes. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"If you mean Tom was the Heir of Slytherin, then yes." Harry said casually. So now it's just an issue of getting people to follow the right track.
Su frowned. "But I've never heard of a pureblood family named Riddle."
"He could be a halfblood with the surname of his Muggle parent." Luna volunteered. "After all, Professor Snape is the same."
"What? Professor Snape isn't a pureblood?" Tracey seemed shocked at the bit of information, and she wasn't the only one.
Funny, isn't it? The Head of the House of Pureblooded Bigots isn't a pureblood... Harry's expression darkened momentarily. Acts like one though...
Archer picked that moment to interrupt. Don't get sidetracked. I know you don't like the man, but the issue of his ancestry isn't a matter now.
It was evident that Snape did a very good job of hiding his own family history; the attitude he projected drew insults and derisive comments more than questions, and those who were likely in the know supported him, as proven by the fact that he was Draco's godfather. Harry was certain that Lucius Malfoy knew, but since he didn't make an issue of it, Draco didn't either.
"We're getting off-topic here." Luna pointed out in one of her sudden moments of lucidity. "I think Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin too."
"But that means he's got to be over sixty years old by now! We'd definitely see an old man lurking around, right?" Tracey pointed out.
Su and Harry exchanged looks, before the Chinese girl opened her mouth. "Unless there's another Heir?"
Looks like we were thinking of different things. "Or Tom left something behind to help others open the Chamber."
"That would make for a good article, I think." The younger Ravenclaw suggested. "An investigation into the identity of the Heir. Do you mind giving an interview, Hagrid?"
"We-well, if yer want..." Hagrid sounded uncertain.
Tracey cocked an eyebrow in Harry's direction, only to have the white-haired boy shake his head resignedly and turn his attention back to the motorbike. Su, being Luna's senior, assisted the younger girl in asking questions for the interview.
This will be a start... As for this motorbike, I think I'm going to need to ask the Runes Professor for some help... Harry finished recording down another line and closed his notebook. Funny that no one made any mention of a halfblood being the heir of Slytherin the blood purist.
As they were returning to their respective common rooms, Luna suddenly pulled Harry away. Recognizing her desire to talk to him, he told Su to go on ahead, and found a alcove where they could talk in relative privacy. Harry noticed that she seemed uncharacteristically alert, and realized that she was looking out for people listening in. It left him with the feeling that she wouldn't mention Archer's existence out loud.
He started it off. "What do you want to ask?"
"Have you found the Box yet?"
She's good. Archer agreed with Harry's assessment.
"Yeah." Harry admitted. "It's actually a book."
There was a brief pause as Luna's eyes unfocused. "Oh. So it's the diary Ginny's been writing in all this time."
Harry's jaw dropped open. "How, how did you even know that?" Ginny Weasley... I was trying to ignore her because of how she was acting, and ended up omitting her from my suspicions. Damn it.
"She has been acting awfully strangely the whole time since she's been here, always reading something from that diary of hers even though she should be the only one writing in it. Then recently, she stopped bringing that book out, and started acting how she used to."
Harry ran his hand through his hair with a bit of frustration. "You know, it would have been so much better if you had just said something to the teachers about that..."
Luna just smiled humorlessly. "You know why it won't work."
He nodded. "Yeah. But the attacks should be over now. We just have to..."
The sound of a rooster's clucking reached them, making Harry grimace slightly. The majority of the school had gotten used to the presence of those birds, but that didn't mean the noise didn't bother them.
"...find a way to clear everyone's fears." He finished.
He felt Archer's approval of his intention.
"That sounds like a nice thing to do. I'll help." Luna cheerfully offered. "But what about the Chamber itself? Are you still intending to find it?"
Harry's jaw set grimly. He pulled out his wand and turned around. With several sharp motions, he wrote Riddle's full name out in glowing green letters, which he then rearranged with a wave of his wand to reveal the secret hidden in those letters. A gasp alerted him to Luna's shock at the discovery, and he erased the letters with another wave before tucking his wand away.
"So you see why. Besides," Harry grinned cheekily. "Who knows what other secrets might be hidden in there?"
Luna matched his expression. "It's the Chamber of Secrets, after all. A Basilisk is only one secret."
"Exactly."
"Speaking of which, I'm surprised you don't feel like asking any further about that hero." Harry gestured towards his head discreetly.
"I won't mind if you're offering." Luna replied, then her gaze flickered slightly. "But I see you won't be."
"Thanks, Luna." Harry managed to put some note of gratefulness in his tone. "So, until we search for the secrets?"
"Until we search for the secrets." confirmed Luna.
Smirking once again, they went their separate ways, knowing that they would meet up again soon.
That chance soon arrived, as Harry roped the blonde in to visit Myrtle in her toilet during one weekend. Seeing Luna simply prance straight through without any fear was enough to erase his usual reservations of entering the place.
"Oh, it's you again." Myrtle greeted them morosely. "Who's she?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Luna spoke first. "Luna Lovegood. I'm a reporter. Can we ask you a few questions?"
"What do you want to know? How I haunted Olive Hornby?" The issue seemed to please the ghost for some reason.
"Do you know anything about a Slytherin Prefect named Tom Riddle?"
"Tom Riddle?" Myrtle repeated, her face screwed up in concentration. "He sounds familiar..."
They waited, but after several minutes of silence, Harry shook his head and signaled Luna to go on to the next question.
"If you can't remember, then it's okay. Do you mind if we asked you how you died then?"
That made Myrtle perk up. "Ooooh, I remember that veeeery well!" She spoke as though recounting it was the highlight of her un-life. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall."
Stands to reason, I suppose. Does that mean the other ghosts died here too? Maybe I should ask them... if they react like she does, maybe they might tell me other things too. Harry thought.
Myrtle continued to talk. "I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in."
"Do you know who?" Luna paused in her note-taking to ask.
Myrtle shook her head. "No, I was in the stall. But I heard him say something funny. It-"
"Excuse me for interrupting, but did you say 'him'?"
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. He had a hunch that the male in Myrtle's account was Tom Riddle himself, but continued to listen silently. Although it makes one wonder why nobody thought it might be a Heiress instead of a Heir.
"Yes, it was a boy that was speaking. I'm quite sure about it. Even if he was speaking in some strange language."
Luna paused again. "Strange language? Can you describe how it sounded like?"
"Umm... I'm not too sure, but I think there was a lot of hissing."
Parseltongue, I assume... Harry exchanged glances with Luna, who nodded in acknowledgement.
"So what happened next?" She went on to ask.
"I unlocked the door to go tell him to use his own toilet, and then-" Myrtle paused for dramatic effect, swelling up with tension. "I died."
Just a bit more, and I think the pieces will fall into place.
"How?" asked Luna.
"No idea." The ghost now spoke in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..." She gave the pair a dreamy look, then became serious in a manner reminiscent of Luna. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see."
Well, that confirms it. It's a Basilisk for sure. Even Luna seemed pleased by this discovery. Guess we know where to bring the roosters.
Harry looked around the toilet as Myrtle described with relish how she made her former tormentor suffer. According to her, she died the moment she stepped out of her stall, which was only a moment after she first heard the Heir speaking. The position of the Basilisk was limited to the area in front of the stall then, which happened to include a sink. Frowning to himself, Harry walked over to examine it.
"Structural Analysis." He breathed as he made the motions of going over each part closely. It was such a useful bit of magecraft sometimes.
He found several things instantly. The sink itself had protections laid over it, in a woven bounded field of a make Harry wasn't familiar with, defending the sink from almost any form of damage; the mirror and the pipes might have appeared old, but his analysis told him that they hadn't changed in several centuries, even with Myrtle's occasional water parties. However, he could tell what they were meant to do, since the overall structure was similar to some of the previous wards he encountered. The difference just made it harder to break down. But the prize was the carved snake on one of the taps, the only visual clue to the fact that the pipes extending beneath the sink were there to disguise the true form.
Harry tried the tap, and found it didn't work. It was to be expected; there was no water feeding to it in the first place.
"That tap's never worked." Myrtle said brightly, noticing Harry's actions.
Luna came over to look as well. "Did you find something?"
"Not much, only what looks like the possible entrance to the Chamber of Secrets." Harry said dismissively.
"Oh." However, Luna didn't react the way he wanted, simply nodding instead.
"Suspicious, don't you agree? All the magic in this castle, and they can't fix a single tap."
"Unless a Shuckling Serpilant was responsible." Luna suggested, making Myrtle look at her oddly.
Harry inclined his head. "Perhaps." He had seen her eyes dart to the snake carving. "Well, I think we're done here. Thank you for your time, Miss Myrtle."
"Oh no, it was nothing. Do come by again, would you?" She gushed.
Another admirer, Harry? Archer teased.
Harry just stalked out of the toilet trying not to let his reaction to the implied proposition show, followed by a nonchalant Luna.
They adjourned to the Herald's office, which was located in a large meeting hall on the third floor. The place was usually quiet, except when there was a new issue set to be released, in which case the staff would be rushing about doing last-minute changes or the printing press would be working full time, forcing those in the room to put up the silencing ward. Today was one of those quiet days, and the only person present was Dean Thomas, who was writing an article promoting football.
"Hey Harry, hey Luna." The boy, looking up at the sound of the door opening, greeted them.
"Dean." Harry nodded back, while Luna went over to her desk to begin writing a draft.
"Got another Student Council event?" Dean asked curiously.
"Actually, no. But I should come up with one soon, shouldn't I?" Harry admitted.
"You accepting ideas? Because I thought of one."
"What is it?"
"A flea market. You know what it is?"
"Yeah." Harry considered the idea. "Yeah, I could use that. Thanks, Dean."
Dean waved him off. "No problem, man. You've been doing all of us a favor ever since you came, you know. It's the least I could do." He changed the subject. "What are you here for, anyway?"
A grin appeared on Harry's face. "Another article on the Chamber of Secrets."
"Really? What did you find out now?" Dean sounded quite interested.
"The Heir of Slytherin was very good at manipulating Wrackspurts to hide his deeds."
Dean shot her a confused glance out of the corner of his eyes. "Uh huh..."
"Remember the one that said it was possible that the beast was a Basilisk?" Seeing the nod, Harry continued, "We've got an eyewitness account proving it."
Dean's jaw dropped. "You're kidding. Wait, I thought looking a Basilisk in the eyes means you die?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm not kidding. And yes, they do kill that way."
"Then how-?"
Harry smirked. "Think about it." Leaving Dean with that message, he went over to check on Luna.
As he expected, she had a basic outline prepared already, but it made no mention of any clues to the Chamber's location; by being vague by saying Myrtle died when she came out of the toilet instead of the toilet stall, it hinted that she had been unlucky to catch the Heir as he was passing by with his Basilisk. The article also explained that Hagrid had been wrongfully accused of the crime by pointing out several facts about the person in question, and revealed that the beast he was accused of controlling was an Acromantula and not a Basilisk. The end of that article pointed out that the previous Headmaster Armando Dippet had acted foolishly, and that Tom Riddle should have his award taken away.
"Isn't that a bit too direct?" asked Harry, looking at Luna.
She shrugged. "It isn't as though either can do a thing."
"I give up. C'mon Harry, tell me how, will you?" Dean announced, coming over with his completed article in hand.
I suppose the mundane-borns are restricted by common sense to match the wizards who already lack common sense. "Dean, what's the opposite of living?" Harry asked pointedly.
I would have to agree with you on that, saidArcher.
"Dead, of course." The dark-skinned boy stopped as realization washed over his face. "Ohhh... I get it! So which ghost did you talk to?"
"A nice girl who haunts the toilet on the second floor." Luna answered, smiling in her usual dreamy manner.
Dean frowned. "A nice girl, huh? Does she have a name? Wait, she haunts a toilet?"
Harry and Luna both nodded, which made Dean shake his head frantically.
"Okay, I don't want to know. Here's my article, check it for me, thanks, bye!" Dean gabbled, dropping his paper (Since they were cheaper than parchment, it was decided to use them for the basic drafts) onto Luna's desk and escaping from the room.
"What's with him?" Harry wondered, but nobody could provide an answer.
Once he saw Luna would be fine on her own, Harry went to call for a meeting with the rest of the Council to propose Dean Thomas's idea to them.
"A flea market?" Draco exclaimed in shock. "Are you seriously considering that?"
"What, does it offend your noble sense of upbringing?" Hannah snapped back, getting a glare in response.
"Enough!" Harry growled. "Draco, don't forget that we're all Hogwarts students, and Student Council members as well. We're supposed to act for the benefit of the students, to help them come together outside of their Houses."
"The Houses are there for a reason-"
"Only when each House was learning from a single teacher." Su interrupted. "It's in Hogwarts: A History."
"Thank you, Su." Harry nodded to her. "Think about it carefully, Draco, the benefits of having one is far more than it looks."
Eventually after some further discussion, they put it to a quick vote, and the issue passed with unanimous agreement. With things decided, they began to plan the organization of the event. Harry had a private talk with Draco afterwards, pointing out that Slytherin needed to present the proper image, and that the flea market was a good way of getting the measure of those around them. The talk went a long way in convincing Draco to go along with the event, a fact that encouraged Harry about the blond male's prospects.
The premise was quite simple. The students would be instructed to bring the things they wanted to sell on the day itself, along with items from their home if they so wished, and each year in the four Houses would be in charge of a single store. It would be recommended for them to arrange among themselves who would watch over the stall while the others went around seeing what the other stalls had to offer. The items would have to be inspected by the teachers for anything dangerous first, just to be safe. Harry put forward the idea of having a tip jar for those who approved of the event to show their support, which the others liked quite a bit.
Harry's role was to get permission from the staff to hold the event in the Great Hall, and thus it saw him following Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office on a calm afternoon. As he stood on the staircase that was moving up like an escalator, Harry was busy thinking.
Score another point for 'Dumbledore is senile'. What sort of password is that anyway, using the names of common sweets...
They stepped off at the top, in front of a heavily-polished oak door with a griffin-shaped brass knocker. McGonagall knocked on it, and it opened silently. However, the office was empty, so she instructed Harry to stay there and wait until Dumbledore arrived.
Needless to say, Harry did NOT wait like an obedient child. In the few times he had been here, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore's office was the most interesting of all the teachers'. Given the chance, it was natural to want to poke around a little.
The first thing he noticed was that while all the paintings appeared to be sleeping, not all of them truly were. Harry pointed at his own eyes, then at one particularly inept faker, making the old man twitch uncomfortably. Warning delivered, Harry turned his attention to the rest of the office.
Dumbledore's phoenix eyed him blearily, then gave a short welcoming trill before putting its head under its wing, appearing to go to sleep. Ignoring it, he went over to the shelf where the Sorting Hat was when he failed to find any books to scan. Without any hesitation, he took it off the shelf and put it on. Archer cursed and quickly hid his presence like he had during the Sorting.
Harry stood there, staring into the blackness of the overly large hat. Godric Gryffindor must have a really big head.
"Actually," The small voice he vaguely recalled from last year spoke in his ear, "I was designed this way, seeing how traumatizing it is for some children to see their peers staring at them while they are being Sorted.
Oh.
"So, what did you come for, Harry Potter?"
Can I consult you on certain types of magic? asked Harry.
The Hat seemed pleased by that question. "Oho, I knew placing you in Gryffindor wouldn't do anything to curb your Ravenclaw and Slytherin qualities." When Harry didn't say anything in response, it continued, "But I digress. Of course I would be willing to help. What is your question?"
What sort of magic creates a phylactery?
"...you're asking about one of the Darkest acts of magic, Harry Potter." The Hat replied somberly.
I figured, Harry thought back with some sarcasm, The one who calls himself Voldemort created a few of them.
"WHAT?" It exclaimed, making Harry wince. "One is bad enough, but to go further than that?"
Don't ask me. Harry wanted to rub his ears, but was unable with the Hat in the way. I managed to get one of them, and I think there's another one in-
"The Room of Requirement. I'm surprised you found Rowena's magnificent creation, given how well it's hidden. Most never find it more than once." The Hat paused, then went on, "To answer your first question, these phylacteries have a name, they are called Horcruxes. However, you will not find any explicit information on them even in the Restricted Section."
So only certain private libraries... like Dumbledore's?
"I cannot say, unfortunately. However, I wish you luck, Harry Potter. You would have gone far in any House."
"Ahem." Hearing the sound of someone clearing his throat, Harry pulled the Hat off and turned around.
Dumbledore stood there, a slight smile on his face as he looked down at Harry. With a tilt of his head, he indicated his desk and the chairs, and Harry nodded. Putting the Hat back on its shelf, Harry went over to sit down.
"I hope we can get on better than we did in our previous meeting, Harry."
I'll be civil if you are. Harry just nodded.
"So what is this event you wish to propose?"
Trying not to smirk, Harry handed over the parchment bearing the details. While he never let himself be affected by the compulsion charms trying to draw him away from using normal paper, Harry knew when to use which one to avoid setting off unwanted alarms.
It was easy to get approval, and Dumbledore agreed to inform the other teachers of their roles in making sure that nothing dangerous would be put on sale. With permission obtained, the rest of the Council could go on with the rest of the plan. Draco would be in charge of maintaining order, which he chose to do by patrolling around with Crabbe and Goyle. Hannah worked with McGonagall on reserving the Great Hall and ensuring that each stall had the appropriate amount of space, collaborating with Su who was listing down every item that was to be sold, which was the hardest job of them all and thus the one Harry helped out with.
The Weasley twins suggested the idea of adding a small cafe, and with Harry's agreement, they managed to make arrangements with Madam Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks down in Hogsmeade to deliver some of her drinks to be sold on that day. Given the tastiness of Butterbeer and the way the third-years and above praised the beverage, many of the younger students were eager to try it.
The Herald delivered the announcement of the event together with Luna's article on the Heir, renewing the discussion over the issue as students wrote home to their parents to inform them of what Luna and Harry uncovered, at the same time asking for items to be sold at the flea market. It resulted in a swarm of owls bearing heavy packages coincidentally coming in with Dumbledore announcing that Hagrid had been wrongfully accused and the revoking of Tom Riddle's award.
You know, Archer, I've been thinking about the wizarding situation...
And? prompted the spirit.
All the hiding from non-magicals... it certainly has encouraged an ostrich-hiding behavior in the society, hasn't it?
It is a reasonable explanation. Archer conceded.
Still have a few more years of this... maybe I should move to Japan... Harry mused absently.
He also kept an eye on Ginny Weasley, and caught her giving him a frightened glance when she read the article mentioning Riddle's name, and flinching whenever anybody said the name. The diary was safely stored away in his workshop, and he hadn't touched it ever since the first time, so he wasn't too worried.
Since the article did not contain Tom's middle name, nobody realized that it was Voldemort's real name. Although Harry did wonder if anyone outside of the Ravenclaws would realize the anagram present if he had inserted that. As for the girls who were at Hagrid's with him, none of them mentioned their belief that Riddle was the actual Heir; all of them could tell that people weren't likely to believe a halfblood being the Heir of Slytherin.
Over the next few days before the weekend the flea market was being held, Harry returned to his usual schedule; studying science and magic, practicing his magecraft, teaching Alchemy to a determined Hermione, keeping up with his physical training, and searching through the Room of Hidden Things, taking turns with each. Regarding the latter, Harry had managed to cover approximately half of the entire area already, and he recently encountered a few pests that were easily taken care of with his magic. The experience left him with a healthy respect for the hidden dangers, and he read Common Magical Household Pests to be better prepared; so far he had yet to encounter a Boggart, but at least he would be somewhat ready in the event he did meet one.
The day before the event itself, Harry finally agreed to let Hermione try her hand at transmutation. On his way back from Quidditch training that night, he met her in an empty classroom where the materials were already prepared. Within a few minutes, she drew a perfect alchemical array for him on a sheet of paper. After he pronounced it safe to try, she placed her hands on the edge and reshaped a block of wood into the form of a growling lion in a crackle of blue lightning.
"Yes!" The bushy-haired girl cheered excitedly. "I did it! I did it!"
"Good job, Hermione." Harry congratulated her. She took longer, but that's because she's balancing this with her schoolwork.
"Let me try a few more." Hermione begged, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Smiling, Harry shrugged. "Sure."
All of them turned out to be successes. Later, as they were heading back to Gryffindor tower, their conversation on Alchemy turned to tomorrow's flea market. Hermione and Harry's parents had sent a great number of old storybooks, telling them to try and get them sold.
"Do you think anyone will want them?" Hermione asked, a note of worry in her voice.
"I'm sure some of the Ravenclaws will be eager to have some new reading material." Harry reassured her, absently deflecting a water balloon Peeves flung at them. Been a while since that poltergeist tried anything...
"But..." Hermione glanced at Peeves with some worry, but seeing Harry ignore him, did the same.
"Enough, Hermione. It's no use worrying about it, okay? Just wait and see."
She sighed, and nodded with some reluctance. "Oh, alright."
When they crawled through the portrait hole, the two of them found Neville waiting for them, looking flustered. Looking around, they saw the rest of the people in the House looking uncharacteristically grim.
"Harry! You, your-" The boy seemed unsure of what to say.
"Calm down, Neville." Harry said patiently. "What's the matter?"
"Somebody's been through your stuff, man." Dean was the one to answer, coming down the stairs from the dormitories. "Ron and Neville's too."
"What." Harry's voice was flat.
It appears you underestimated Ginny Weasley. Archer murmured.
"What do you mean?" Harry blurted out without meaning to.
"Just what I said. Our room has been ransacked. Looks like a tornado hit it." Dean jerked his head towards the stairs. "You better come look."
When they went back up, followed by Hermione, the sight that awaited them was shocking, enough so to explain why Neville had been so panicked.
His trunk had been forced open, and all its contents had been scattered all over the room. Some of the ink bottles had been smashed, causing splatters of ink. The school cloak lay on the floor, a jagged rend running down one side. Similarly, the bed was a total mess, the sheets in tatters while the mattress was hanging half off the bed frame. His cabinet had been similarly emptied, the contents dumped out over the bed and floor. The same went for his book bag, which was turned inside out with a few tears in it.
Neville's was in a similar state, and so was Ron, but to a lesser degree. The entire scene looked like the work of a vandal at first glance, but with Archer's directions, Harry could see that the perpetrator was searching rather than destroying. One of the obvious pieces of evidences was that every single robe had their pockets turned inside out.
Good thing I keep my science books, magecraft materials and Alchemy equipment elsewhere, thought Harry as he looked around the room, But the question here is, how did Ginny suspect that I had the diary?
Perhaps she asked Myrtle. The three of you were there when you first picked up the diary, and she was watching when you did. Archer reminded him.
Ah, I see. Harry turned to the rest. "So any idea who did it?" He asked, projecting a worried image.
The other boys shook their head. "Not a clue." Neville was the one to say.
"But," Hermione gasped, "Only a Gryffindor could have-... no one else knows our password..."
"Seamus went to get McGonagall." Dean told Harry. "She'll settle this."
Minutes later, the elderly witch turned up. On seeing the state of the room, her lips thinned dangerously. She clean and repaired everything with a few waves of her wand, before heading down to the common room and summoning everyone in the tower.
"The second-year boys dormitory was found to be vandalized. I want the culprit to own up right NOW!" More than a few students jumped at the last word being shouted. McGonagall was very angry.
Standing near her with the rest of his roommates, Harry was thinking, She really jumped to conclusions quickly, didn't she? And thanks to her, the evidence has been erased...
Archer was in agreement. If these is how they handle things around here, it could set a dangerous precedent.
"Well?" McGonagall demanded.
Many students fidgeted uncomfortably under her scrutinizing glare, but no one came forward. Harry noticed Ginny was so pale she looked almost like a ghost, but the posture of her body indicated that she had no intention of admitting her crime.
What should I do, Archer? Let her go with this? Harry asked silently as he looked elsewhere.
Confronting her in front of a crowd is most definitely a bad idea. Plus, while they do not really show it, her brothers do care about her. You would alienate all four of them if you did. Archer cautioned.
Then what happens if she tries again?
Somehow, Archer commented, I don't think that will happen.
Harry tried to figure out what exactly Archer was basing that guess on, but couldn't manage to do so. In the end, no matter how much McGonagall threatened, no one came forward to take the blame. In the end, she simply deducted fifty points from Gryffindor, and left the Prefects with instructions to look out for the culprit. Despite the tension, the rest of the Gryffindors did their best to try and go to sleep, since tomorrow was something they were looking forward to.
I guess I can chalk this one down as a success. Harry thought with a grin as he looked around at the crowd.
Don't forget to thank Dean Thomas for the idea. Archer reminded him.
I'll do it right now. Harry searched for the black-skinned boy in the crowd.
The first ever Hogwarts flea market opened at eight o'clock in the morning, and there was a huge crowd present. As Harry had predicted, all kinds of goods were being sold; books, jewelry, ornaments, clothes, those were the most common kind of items that Harry could see. The Student Council was also holding its own stall, with Harry selling his Quills and the Butterbeers from Hogsmeade at the same time. He had quite a bit of fun trying to act like a salesperson, extolling the usefulness of his own creations to anyone who passed by. The teachers already knew that he was the one behind them, but this was the first time he was promoting them blatantly in front of the school faculty.
"Care to purchase an Assignment Quill? Very useful for meeting that troublesome deadline that you normally won't be able to! Feel pressured by your OWL or NEWT workload? Then step right up and buy one for yourself! You won't regret it!" Noticing someone eyeing the bottles of Butterbeer, Harry slid over. "Butterbeer for you?"
The boy nodded. "Sure. Give me one."
Harry accepted the coins and handed back the correct change. "Here you go. Thank you for your business. Would you like to buy a Quill?"
Needless to say, Harry managed to offload his entire stock with great profit. After some time, Hannah came by to take over for him, and Harry went to see what the rest of the school had to offer.
Ravenclaw seemed to be dealing predominantly in books, and Hermione's initially humongous collection of storybooks had already dwindled down to three volumes after they went through. Hufflepuff had their members all wearing eye-catching yellow shirts, making it a bit hard to look at them directly. Given the large number of mundane-born students in the House, it was no surprise that most of their items were non-magical in nature. In contrast, Slytherin's goods were old, relatively expensive, and usually had some form of magic on them. Out of the four Houses, Gryffindor seemed to have the most boring collection, selling mainly memorabilia like Quidditch professional team pennants and photos with autographs, and used copies of wizarding games such as Gobstones or Exploding Snap card packs, but they made up for it in interesting ways.
One of them involved Dean. Harry found the boy sitting before an easel as a Ravenclaw girl sat in a chair facing him, his hand holding a pencil and sketching a pretty good impression of her features.
"Hey Dean. That's pretty good."
"Yeah, thanks." Dean replied absently. "I remembered seeing some guy doing this at a flea market before. So I thought, why not?"
Harry nodded. "Anyway, I want to say thanks for the idea."
Dean waved his other hand. "No problem."
He saw Neville selling a few of his plants and waved to the blonde, but didn't go over to talk. Instead, he drifted around browsing through the various offerings. As he was flipping through a slightly used book filled with interesting charms, Harry felt somebody tap him on the shoulder. Turning, he saw Daphne, who beckoned to him. Following her, he found himself at a Slytherin-run stall with a collection of jewelry, particularly rings and necklaces.
"Still interested in these, I take it?" She asked mischievously.
"Yeah, thanks, Daphne." Harry grinned, and began examining them.
He found a number of fakes in them, but he also found a few genuine articles; a silver ring with an emerald, a necklace with black pearls, and a few others, Harry bought them all. Daphne teased him on who he was planning to give those to, but he just countered by saying she was hoping to get one off him.
"You have to do better than that, Potter." She replied archly.
Harry thought quickly, then leaned to the side to peer over her shoulder. "Hey, who's that guy?"
She fell for it, turning around to look. Harry used that chance to escape with his purchases. He found himself near the teachers' table, where they had their own sale of items. Harry weathered Snape's sneer as he walked past several foul-smelling ingredients, preferring to focus more on some of the other things. Sprout was selling plants like Neville, except hers were more vibrant and in greater variety. McGonagall was overseeing security with Draco, but Flitwick was selling several stylish chess sets along with his store of charmed toys, and some of them had exquisite detail.
Lockhart was at the end of the table smiling brightly at anyone who came near him, surrounded by copies of his books similar to how he was in the bookstore all those months ago. However, the difference was that there weren't many customers interested. Or rather, none at all. The only ones who approached him were the few girls that still retained their hero worship towards him, and that didn't include Hermione, Harry was pleased to see.
That's his problem for trying to sell something he made mandatory for the students to have as textbooks. Harry thought with some sadistic humor as he slipped back into the crowd. Not that I bought all of them in the first place.
Don't gloat, Archer admonished, It's not nice.
Okay, okay. Harry allowed himself a quick smile, then turned his attention to a series of pewter goblets.
Daphne kept shooting him sharp looks for what he did earlier, making him look away uncomfortably.
When the call of the event was sounded, Harry had to admit he was very pleased with the outcome. In addition to the gems he had obtained, he also managed to get two books, one on enchanting and the other on runes, plus a few ornaments made out of materials he was itching to try Alchemy on. The highlight was a basic rune engraving set that was a good deal cheaper than anything that could be found in Diagon Alley, purchased from a third-year student who dropped the subject.
Hermione was naturally curious about it, and though she wouldn't admit it, slightly jealous as well. Professor McGonagall had recently announced to them that they would be asked to pick their supplementary subjects for the third year over the Easter Holidays, and Harry had naturally started asking around, for the purpose of putting together a helpful pamphlet for the second-years. Of course, it wouldn't be for free.
The tip jar they had left at the Student Council booth was overflowing with money, showing how popular the event had been. Even Draco was broadly grinning when Harry placed the jar on the table in the office. When they counted, they found they had nineteen Galleons, thirteen Sickles, and about a hundred Knuts. Counting the tax they put on the sales, they made nearly fifty Galleons in total.
"What will we do with the money?" Su asked the question of everyone's mind.
"Use it for our next event?" suggested Hannah.
"That sounds good. The question is what event should we have next?"
They brainstormed, but couldn't think of anything good. Still, when Harry dismissed them, none of them could help feeling pleased that they had accomplished something good today.
However, Harry headed for his workshop, making sure that he wasn't followed by using the Map and Cloak together to throw off the people that had started following him around of late; none of them was Ginny Weasley, though. Slipping into the room behind the painting, he took a moment to check that the diary was safely behind its barrier and unable to influence him before putting away his items.
Kicking back onto the couch, Harry thought about his current situation. So far, his Alchemy was progressing fine; at the moment, he was attempting to polish his control by transmuting with minimal 'scarring' left on the completed product. His magecraft was also on a similar track, as he worked on increasing the speed with which he raised bounded fields, while he had tried charging a better quality gem (a ruby on a ring he had found in the Room) to see how well it held the prana. Harry estimated with a few more months of study, he would feel confident enough to attempt actually manipulating the gem structure itself; his experiments on tweaking the filtration property of the various jewels was paying off quite well, and depending on the results of his current experiment, he might actually be able to isolate some of the altered prana to find out what about it had changed.
In terms of physical ability, he was at a dead end, since his body needed to grow further before it could handle what he envisioned of it. At the moment, he was just maintaining the current level; the various fights Harry put himself through in the Room was only honing his mental ability in battle. According to Archer, he was starting to develop an ability known as the Eye of the Mind, which would benefit him greatly in an actual fight. But in the end, Harry decided that there was no rush to get a powerful body, and thus physical training would be toned down slightly. He certainly had enough of it during Quidditch training, especially with the Hufflepuff match coming up.
On the other hand, Harry thought he could work on his archery skills a bit more. While he could feel the unity of archer, arrow and target somewhat, there was no reason he couldn't strive to go further. As such, Harry made his mind up to aim for even smaller bullseyes the next time he practiced his shooting. Archer certainly drove the point home when he told Harry the story about the three archers who hit a fish set as a target for them by a king, and how the three had aimed for the body, the head, and the eye of the fish respectively.
That left his wizarding magic. Harry recalled a conversation he had with Daphne recently. According to her, magic was viewed differently by wizards and the mundane-born. The former perceived it as a way of life, while the latter saw it as an additional tool that could be used. Harry certainly could see the truth of that; even someone like Hermione started out by keeping her own wand up in her dorm room, instead of carrying it on her person at all times. He couldn't imagine someone like Daphne ever letting her own wand go more than a meter away from her willingly.
That made him think about how he viewed his own magic. Certainly, it wasn't either of the two, but somewhere in between. If he ever considered any of his abilities a way of life, it would be magecraft that would take that role, because of how closely it was linked to his own death. Harry wasn't sure if it was the similarities magic had with magecraft, or magecraft displacing magic from that role, that was the reason he didn't view magic as a way of life.
Wait, why am I thinking about all this? This makes me feel like I'm some old man.
Then what would that make me? Archer interjected.
Harry was silent for a moment. ...okay, never mind. Somehow, it feels like that topic would open up a can of worms.
Well, Harry reasoned, in the end, his way of life was something that he was still searching for. Magecraft, magic or Alchemy, those were the paths that he was taking to uncover it. For now, he decided to start planning on how he was going to try entering the Chamber of Secrets without getting killed by the Basilisk within. Getting off the couch, he went to get some paper and ink to help him along.
Meanwhile, Archer was contemplating the fact that Harry was already starting to search for his Origin without consciously realizing it. The Origin was the driving force extending from Akasha to various forms of existences, differing between each, but exerting an effect upon each and every one. Harry had encountered the term in one of the magecraft books Zelretch had left, but had forgotten about it in the influx of other information. Archer's own Origin was Sword, and was one of the factors that powered his Reality Marble. But despite their link, Archer and Harry were two separate existences, and thus they would bear different Origins.
Taking care to keep his thoughts veiled from Harry, Archer thought to himself, That damn Zelretch had his hand in my summoning to this world, and he hasn't really taken it away yet. I can't help but feel that he's trying to test something here... but what?
In the end, Archer resolved to continue watching over Harry, and hopefully keep him from getting into any more trouble. Although it appeared that Harry was purposely trying to find his way into it, given the fact that he intended to go into the lair of a beast who could kill by making direct eye contact.
What a troublesome host... trying to make my job harder than it has to be... Archer grumbled, but there was a small smirk at the corner of his lips.
And that's another chapter, one that doesn't bring up canonical events apart from the room searching. It took me a while to get this out because I had class tests to study for. That and the more fanfics I read, the more of my mental processing power is used to integrate and enjoy the information, instead of powering my muse. But it's out, so that's that.
So far, I'm relying on random whims to build this story. Will Harry have to rescue someone from the Chamber? I have no idea. The only thing to do is to wait and see.
Regarding Harry's abilities, he's growing, and at a gradual pace, so no super!Harry suddenly. Did I say this before? Sometimes I lose track of what I've written. Not a good thing, I know. But I try my best.
Anyway, just read and review this chapter!