Harry Scamander and the King of the Animals 7
There was no clock ticking in the classroom. The light came from a few lamps nestled in the walls and from some floating candles, as Harry was slowly scribbling down his Defense Against the Dark Arts punishment: writing lines upon lines of 'I will not consider Verdimillious Duo a worst alternative than an unforgivable spell'.
That wasn't however the height of his punishment. The true height was him hearing the small talk that his 'family' was doing. Not only because it jabbed at his nerves, but also because they always tried to get him into the conversation.
"And out of all the Quidditch teams, I think the Chudley Cannons won't ever manage to get a win…ever." James Potter remarked, as Lillian merely pouted.
"Ron thinks they're going to make a comeback."
"Against the Manchester United?" Lily rhetorically asked, "Tell Ron he should stop daydreaming and study more."
"Like he'd listen to me," Lillian muttered.
"What about you, Harry? Any Quidditch team you like?" James subtly queried, as the Ravenclaw merely shook his head with a 'no' gesture and began to write on a new line.
"So you don't follow sports, do you?" The question remained unanswered as Harry merely kept on writing.
"Severus told me you have an astounding ability with potions," Lily began hesitantly, "Is it also the same with Charms?"
"Harry made his own feather fly during the revision today: Professor Flitwick gave him fifteen points by the end of the lesson!" Lillian remarked swiftly, getting a gasp of surprise from Lily.
"Oh my! He must have taken it from me then, James is more of a Transfiguration expert actually..."
Harry, meanwhile, was trying to come up with reasons to leave the room. He had to do lines at the very least for the next hour, then from there onwards it largely depended on the time of the curfew. Unless of course the professor didn't write to him a permission to stay awake past curfew, or in order for him to go back to his room. Meaning that, depending on the circumstances…his Defense against the Dark Arts professor could keep him there for an indefinite amount of time, or until one of the two dropped.
Judging by the fact that Lillian was there too, however, it was highly possible that he'd be left to go back to his common room once curfew time was looming around.
"And that was when Lillian ended up doing accidental magic by turning her skirt yellow."
"Mom!" Lillian exclaimed, apparently flustered by something the woman had been saying. Something that he hadn't caught because he was trying to come up with reasonable escape plans. One of whom involved throwing a flash-bang and dash for nearby cover. He'd need a flash-bang though. A flash-bang and a team of spec ops ready to deploy from the door.
He doubted he could get the Americans to enter through the door though.
He even doubted he could get an army on the school's grounds.
"Did you have any case of accidental magic too?" Lily asked carefully, looking at him with a mixture of sadness, as if she was expecting the thing to be an…extremely emotional moment.
Why would it be? He had never done anything like that.
Harry shook his head slowly, while keeping on his written lines and turning the parchment to write on the other surface. He scribbled in silence, but he still couldn't help but feel eyes fixed on him. This was probably the Professor's idea of getting to know him, and because he could not escape or avoid it, it was pretty darn perfect.
"How was your summer?" Lily queried, carefully nudging forward the question as if she was carrying something made of glass. It wasn't an olive branch: it was a tentative try at communication that Harry could either take or refuse. He could avoid answering of course. He could keep himself quiet and stay there put doing nothing more than lines until they finally understood he didn't want to talk to them…or he could talk to them.
"Fine." He muttered, feeling slightly sick at the outright breath of relief that came from the woman. Apparently she had been holding her breath for as long as it had taken him to answer. He just hoped she'd be appeased with that and ask no more.
"Is it true that Newton Scamander has wild roaming unicorns in his yard?" Lillian suddenly asked, forcing Harry to flinch. What could he say? He hadn't seen any of course, but the backyard was big enough to probably contain even a dragon.
"Probably. I didn't look." He replied. He knew that the more he spilled the more the hole against the dam known as 'silence' would be broken. He knew it, and yet he replied.
The first match had been his won by running. The second had been a draw with Lily. The third…the third was his father's win.
"What animals did you see?" Lillian queried, as Harry merely rolled his eyes at the question.
"A Cerberus." He commented offhandedly, "Growling mutt." He added slowly.
"How big was it?" Lillian asked then, strangely excited, "Last year I saw one too, you know? It was guarding the Philosopher's stone and we had to sing to him to keep him asleep."
"Which was a completely foolish thing to do, young lady," James remarked caustically, "And is the reason you spent your summer holed up in your room."
"We had to protect the stone from Voldemort!" Lillian exclaimed hotly, "He's coming back and you know it!"
"Now, now." Lily said, with an admonishing tone, "Nobody came by and stole the stone Lillian…There's no Voldemort around."
Right, the one at Harry's bedside by the Scamander's cottage clearly wasn't the Dark Lord. Nope, it had to be another Hitler. Well…he hadn't actually seen the magical Hitler of course. He had kept his eyes closed during the small talk.
"But…the unicorns! Hermione and I discovered that…" Lillian's trying to explain her thoughts were met with the usual denying and shaking of heads of the other two adults…and Harry understood what Basileus meant.
When adults are confronted with the thoughts of children, their first action is denial or refusal, because if they don't believe it, then a child shouldn't have realized it earlier. It was, in a word, 'adult's pride'.
It was also kind of funny, because Harry knew Voldemort hadn't actually died, and here was the rest of his family arguing that it was dead or returning. They were both wrong, for different reasons, but still wrong.
Of course, he was deluding them by saying small words and letting them fantasize by themselves how his summer had been like. Still, he began to write again his lines as the chatter intensified up to the point where the professor had to simply butt in with his position, forcing Lillian to keep quiet.
"Not another word Lillian!" James hissed dangerously, "Voldemort is dead and gone. Now," trying to regain his bearings and enter a far easier argument to speak of, "How's your transfiguration homework going?"
"Dad! I'm working on it alright?" Lillian mumbled half-embarrassed.
"And what about you Harry? Do you need any help with homework?" Lily asked gently, "If you need a hand with potions…"
"I'm fine." He was pretty sure that in Ravenclaw, he'd just have to ask and he'd be surrounded by people willing to teach. It was kind of strangely teary to know that he could just ask and he'd get an answer. Half of the times, he had seen people starting their homework alone and finishing it with ten to twenty Ravenclaw of different years piping in with suggestions.
That was probably why Ravenclaw had the highest level of grades per single student. You just couldn't 'not' get help. Unless you were stuck under a Fidelius of course…and now he'd probably see the results first hand, without anything to bar him from being seen or remembered.
"Oh." There was a slight sad tone in the woman's voice, which morphed in probable fake cheerfulness, "If you ever need a hand, I'd be glad to help, you know?"
Harry nodded quietly, before scribbling the last few lines of the parchment. He just so casually glanced once more to the first face of the paper, and discovered it empty and white. Perfect for writing an infinite amount of lines apparently…
He began once more dutifully writing, his hand was just slightly uncomfortable, but not that much.
"Food…master offers food…"
Harry stilled his scribbling. He knew that was the Basilisk's voice. He knew it echoed through the chambers. Then why did this voice sound a bit different?
"Master is not you!" Alright, that was the Basilisk. Apparently someone had pissed him off quite a bit. "Betrayer! Filth! Liar! Unworthy of the blood of Salazar!" Yes, the Basilisk was pretty much pissed off.
The fact he was hearing him clearly was strange, it sounded far more as if he was there listening, rather than hearing echoes coming from the pipes.
"Wait! I can offer you the exit!"
"Unworthy of the tongue of Salazar! Fake! Die!"
And suddenly Harry felt as if something had just rammed against something else, somewhere. His quill snapped under his fingers from the sudden pulling sensation, and as ink covered in blotches his hand he stared dumbly at his papers. There again, the runic-like symbols he had seen on the books within the chambers of secret shelf. Was that… His eyes focused on the sinuous lines that suddenly made so much sense to him, so much that he knew what the language was. Well, no.
"Master is writing lines?" The voice of his guard-snake echoed through the inner sleeve of his robe, probably one of the most comfortable places for the snake in question to watch and act from if the need arised.
"Harry! Careful and dose your strength with the quill!" Lily fussed, moving closer with her wand out and cleaning off the ink with it. The lines he had currently written had ended up being erased as well, but the snake in his robes was apparently fussing and hissing, making the sides of his right arm fling around as it tried to leave and probably bite the Potter.
"Stupid woman! You do not erase the lines of the master!" The snake exclaimed, its head emerging from his robe's wrist as it bared its fangs at the red haired woman. James was already on his feet, his wand in his hand and ready to strike, while Lillian looked quite scared at the sight of the snake.
"Calm down." Harry muttered, before suddenly flinching at the immediate silence that surrounded him, "And come here." The snake stilled, before slowly slithering its way back onto his arms, and subsequently disappearing within his robe once more. Apparently if the clothes within the Invisible Cloak moved, then they were seen from the outside too.
"Harry," James asked slowly, "Did you just speak to the snake?"
"Well…" Harry mumbled, "He's sort of protecting me and was a bit angered when the lines I was writing were erased."
"Was it Bellatrix idea to conjure a snake and use him to guard you?" James asked again, and this time Harry shook his head.
"No sir…I found him."
Which was true. He could have added how the extremely poisonous snake was an 'honor guard' selected by the Basilisk…and which belonged to the magical Nazi party.
"How long have you…talked to snakes?" James was looking positively sickened by then, and he was still holding his wand.
"Since…this summer?" Harry replied, "Never saw a snake before, professor."
"James." Lily hotly stated, "We need to tell the Headmaster: our son is a parseltongue!"
And that, Harry quickly thought, was the reason he would never, ever, tell them anything about himself ever again.
"Could be my line of the family…maybe an old great-great grandfather of sorts…" James mused it over, "But I never managed to speak with snakes, it's dark arts at its finest: Voldemort was one to begin with."
Lillian had apparently wanted to blurt out something, but she suddenly reeled in, now afraid of Harry probably. Of course she would now consider him no better than Voldemort, and so too would his 'family' and if not soon, then after Dumbledore would have his 'chat' with them.
"The detention is finished." James quickly spoke, "Get back to your dormitories, both of you."
Harry was fast in standing up and leaving, but the way he tightened his grip around his wand was no mistake. He could trust no-one of his family apparently, if their accusing gazes over him were anything to be spoken of. So he knew how to talk to snakes, how wonderful…not. Instead of being amazed or at least slightly concerned, they were probably already thinking of how much he and Voldemort were similar.
Never mind him in Ravenclaw and the Dark Lord in Slytherin.
Harry stood up quickly, before moving out of the room and into the hallway. His first thoughts went to go and check on the basilisk, but with having to do at the very least three fourth of the road to Ravenclaw tower with Lillian next to him, he wouldn't have made it in time.
"You speak to snakes." Lillian commented.
"I also know French." Harry remarked quietly, "But nobody asks me if I'm similar to the French king now, right?"
"But…speaking with snakes is evil." The girl mumbled.
"Why? Because many can't and are jealous because of it? Just like many first years can't play Quidditch because of rules, and yet you could?" Harry replied, "Morality decides what is right or wrong: not laws."
Lillian said nothing for a while, simply walking alongside him quietly.
"You ever think…if you had ended up in Gryffindor like me, and if you'd always been known as my brother…things would have been different?"
"No." Harry's harsh reply made the girl look at him with a slightly sad expression, and so the boy elaborated. "Uchronia is bad for the nerves."
"U…Uchronia?"
"It's the definition of an alternate history. Think about what would be the world now if Hitler had won, or if Voldemort had...That's Uchronia. It isn't real and it won't be. You can't change the past."
"So you never thought about mom or dad?" She asked slowly, why was the girl sad of all things? She should be happy: she wouldn't have to get her parents attention split between the two of them, and she'd keep being the Girl who lived with no problems. He was the one who had been apparently 'chosen' by the Dark Lord for some sort of strange reason.
"I learned they were dead. I thought them dead for years…sure, at first I might have imagined something, but now? Now there's no longer anything for me to think about." He shrugged, "I don't simply care."
"Liar." She muttered, "If you didn't care you wouldn't have been jealous of me in first year." She accused, holding a frown now on her face.
"No." Harry chuckled nervously, "I did not do it because of jealousy," he defended, "I did it because it was the right thing to do."
"You're the King of Slytherin aren't you?" She mumbled, "I didn't want to believe the rumors, but…you really made Gryffindor stand out as the bad guys!"
"Did I now?" Harry remarked scathingly, "Careful what you accuse me of, Potter."
Lillian narrowed her eyes at him, before huffing and crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze away from his.
"I'm Lillian. Potter's my dad or my mother…your dad or mom too." She stubbornly replied.
"You aren't going to let this drop, are you?" Harry deflated.
"You're my brother." She muttered, "We're in the same year, twins even. Yet…yet you didn't know dad or mom, and stayed with those horrible muggles…you're angry. Mom told me it's normal, that you're just scared and because of that you try and get me angry so I can't reason with you and expose your…your real self. But I'm not stupid! I survived Voldemort, I can survive talking with you without being angry." She insisted.
"And what if you don't like my real self?" Harry mused out loud, "What if I'm an absolutely evil and wicked person who thrives on the death and blood and pain of others?"
"You aren't." She muttered back. "You saved me. Even if you're jealous of me or if you hate me…you saved me from the troll. You went to help Hermione in the bathroom. You're not evil, Harry. I know it."
Harry groaned. He just was a pretty selfish individual who had no intentions of doing anything for either side except survive. Even then, he was being practically coerced into choosing…and his sister was apparently one of those stupid idealistic kids who believed in the happy endings.
That did make it all the more difficult to ignore. He could be an utter bastard to the Weasley, and to the Granger in part, but this? He was kind of unprepared to facing an emotively charged girl who was apparently a goody two shoes.
He didn't reply to her, and as he separated from her, to reach for the stairs and climb upwards, he knew, he just knew, that she was staring at his retreating back. He couldn't stay and talk with her as normal…he had to kill his heart and go forward.
He wasn't Harry Potter. He was Harry Dursley.
Even though his name might have been Harry Scamander…
He still was Harry, wasn't he?
It was with these thoughts that he slumbered into his bed, forgetting all about the day and wishing nothing more than a full night of rest. Had he been even a bit curious, he might have queried why there was a blond first year reading on the sofa of the common room near the fire. He was, however, too tired to even think straight.
The following day, as he slowly descended the stairs, he realized that the first year had slept on the sofa for the entire night. Someone had placed a wool cloth over her as a bed cover though, it was thick and warm-looking, but…
It was none of Harry's business.
He had to convince Neville not to speak about his condition to anyone else. Maybe he could try an obliviate spell.
Maybe he could knock him unconscious and feed him to the Basilisk.
Maybe he could…
No.
It was wrong.
He wouldn't do something like that. He wouldn't resort to Obliviating his enemies or his friends ever. It was sick, twisted and wrong. It was like rape, only it was done against memories and thoughts and…
And it was evil.
Breakfast was uneventful, albeit Neville kept stealing glances nervously towards him, something that Draco, half of the Slytherins, his 'parents' and half the Gryffindors were doing too. Just what the hell was it all about?
Was his being 'King' already renown school-wide?
Taking a deep breath, he gave a quiet munch to his treacle tart.
The next second he heard the crunch.
He looked at the content of his treacle tart.
He whitened.
He dropped the tart.
Then he proceeded to puke his guts out near the table, as he felt hands clasping on his back. He didn't hear much of what the other students were saying, but he just…he just couldn't stop the retching. By the time a professor got around him, muttering a Finite Incantatem and then bringing him to the infirmary to get checked and cleaned up, the news had already circulated throughout the remaining tables.
There was the corpse of a dead snake within his tart. A small, charred thing…
But Harry knew all too well what it meant…because his 'Honor Guard' hadn't been there that morning.
*Draco*
It was Saturday of the first weekend of the first week of school. Harry had outright disappeared from the school since Friday afternoon, and he wasn't anywhere normally frequented by the students. Draco had looked for him in the kitchens, outside the Ravenclaw common room, in the dungeons and he had even gone as far as looking for him with the Potters, of all people.
He had been tempted to write a letter to his father and ask if he had heard anything from his aunt. The only reason he hadn't had been, strangely enough, the Hufflepuff Neville.
Who was downright scary when he was angry…quite a bit more than Gregory himself.
After the disappearance of the King from the infirmary, the rumors had it that some vengeful Gryffindor had packed his tart with an animal's dead body to scare him stiffly. Considering it was a snake, it was pretty clear what the message would have been for. The problem was on how the snake had gotten in the tart.
A 'swapping' spell would have worked from a distance, but while some claimed it had been cooked in the kitchen Draco knew better: the house elves wouldn't dare to 'correct' a treat with corpses of animals. Those of the school were all bound to help the students, not to try and poison them.
And the snake was a clear message: someone hated him for having helped Slytherin.
Now, standing in the common room of Slytherin, chewing on his fingernails, Draco was debating actually writing or not to his father.
He knew that something was going on. The week hadn't even finished and yet…it had to have been the Weasley twins probably. The retching that could only be stopped with a spell? Had to be some sort of junk prank toy from Zonko or whatever the name of that shop was.
It was utterly disgusting how the house of the brave had become the house of the bullies and the bratty.
"This has to stop." Flint remarked rudely, "The Weasley twins have gone on long enough with it."
"They said they didn't do it." Ginny remarked quietly. The youngest of the Weasley family was uncomfortable since her arrival, but that much Draco knew was partially due to her family's reputation. Even with Harry's order of acting nicely and making sure the first year knew nothing of the 'plan' and letting them on the general good willingness, she was still treated with a bit of contempt.
"Of course you've got to defend your family, Weasley, but…" Flint's comment was cut off by the girl's sharp reply.
"I am not!" She exclaimed hotly, "I…I just know them, alright? They wouldn't do something that crass during lunch hour. I'm not defending them!"
"Still it reeks of them." Flint commented, only for Draco to start pondering for a moment.
"We need to find out the culprit." The blond haired boy decided, "And to do that we need to know what was used as a retching spell and how. Then if we can find out what snake it was and how it got there, we'd have a possible line of culprits."
The Slytherin's dungeon door opened slowly, and a downcast Vincent entered soon followed by Daphne and Tracey.
"We looked everywhere! He wasn't even in the restricted section of the library and it's just as if…as if he disappeared!" Tracey exclaimed, just as Daphne marched straight ahead to where Draco was.
"You should warn your aunt."
Draco sighed.
It appeared he had no choice in the matter.
Then the door slammed open fast, and a flustered Gregory yelled out at the top of his lungs.
"Someone wrote on the ceiling of the great hall! Come quick!"
The next moment, the Slytherin common room was emptied.
*Harry*
"Custodio." He whispered softly. The green light of the torches of the chamber of secret eerily illuminated his reflection, as he stared at the mirror the chamber had conjured for him. The radio was magical, clearly, and apparently each of its 'frequencies' was in truth a room in the Hogwart's castle. One of the two spinning dials meant the floor level, and the other numbered the room.
He hadn't confronted the basilisk about who he had been angry with, considering whoever it was it hadn't returned. He should have asked who the other parseltongue in the school was, but at present all that he wanted was a safe place to sleep in and let his worries leave.
If the curser had managed to 'kill' his bodyguard without him even realizing…then not even his room was safe. He could find safety only in the chamber, being safeguarded by a giant magical Nazi snake.
It was safe. It was good, and it was his.
He was probably being paranoid, but with the Bloody Baron hovering over him, and carefully avoiding to even stay in the same line of sight as the Basilisk, he felt pretty much ready.
"I ditched Neville on Friday afternoon." He muttered, feeling the magic of the spell rush through his veins, "You think he already called someone?"
"I suppose he didn't: we Hufflepuff are loyal…he'd probably wait to hear from you, especially if he believes there is a valid reason for your actions," Newton Scamander commented, floating in from the hole the Basilisk had nested in. The man was a perfectly integer ghost, with no wounds whatsoever to recognize the cause of death. He was wearing a normal looking, if a bit old style, cardigan and a pair of large comfortable trousers. Being a ghost kind of made him spooky, more than scary…no. Even as a ghost the man was anything but 'scary'.
To think that up above in the Ravenclaw common room there were people screaming his name in fear for the 'Newt' exam that had taken his name for. Yet the man was anything but that.
He was kind of surprised what his determination could do, when really pushed on a life or death situation. He hadn't thought about it, but his wand was indeed powerful as long as his mind was behind his intentions. He wanted to live and to survive, and if someone was out for his blood, then he'd do everything and anything in order to get through…and get his revenge.
It had been nothing more than a snake, a snake he hadn't even named or talked to much, but it had been someone who had valued his own life at the very least as a person. The snake had guarded him, badly but still tried to, and he had died in his line of duty.
Yet nobody would think of him as anything more than a friendly ghost by just looking at him.
"Now, what Custodio does is seemingly stupid, but highly effective when being targeted." The Bloody Baron remarked. "It will make you hear a barking noise when someone is pointing a wand at you."
"I know." Harry muttered, "You explained it was the easiest thing barring going around fully decked for warfare."
"I remain of the opinion that a suit of armor would do you good." Newton remarked, "If not at the very least put to good use the bezoar and make a fake teeth with it."
"And become James Bond the second?" The boy snapped back. "No thank you. I like my teeth just the way they are: normal and without gimmicks inside."
"Control yourself." Henry stated, "To keep calm is the first way to battle. To assess the strength of the enemy the second, and to deliver a crippling blow is the third and final way." The Baron was slowly hovering towards the collection of books on the shelf, hissing ever so softly in parseltongue a couple of the titles that ranged from 'Ancient Curses' to 'Poisonous recipes' passing through the usual dark spells that would have made any historian sell their soul to just be in the same room with them…and Harry hadn't opened a single one of them.
The room was a sort of Room of Requirements, only it provided everything, even food…probably by snitching it from the kitchen.
Not that Harry had eaten much. After the last surprise in the tart…he had grown weary of food that could hide inside nasty stuff.
"Cingo." The wand circled around Harry's head, before slowly descending downwards. The second spell done, the Ravenclaw boy took deep calming breaths. "I can do this now, right?"
"Yes. You may live in fear, but if you do not fight fear, then nothing will ever change." Newton commented slowly. "I'm sure we'll have many more months ahead of us, in which we may learn far more on the magical animals' physiology than ever…but at the present, you have done your tantrum…now it's time to face the world."
Harry nodded, and then turned towards the Basilisk, who had been napping till then.
"Watson!" Harry called, as his familiar stirred and then slowly blinked its eyes open.
"Yes, master?"
"Who was the one that called for you?"
"I do not know, master." The Basilisk admitted. "It called through my exit, but when I accused the false and moved to attack, he was gone." Frustration seeped into the beast's voice, "I will hunt the fake down, master. I swear my fangs will not rest until his body rots within my body!"
"Ehm…Alright?" Harry hazarded.
"Master? May I ask a question?"
"Of course you can."
"We…We are not going to kill those of impure blood, right?"
"Wh…What? But you…"
"Master, I am first and foremost your familiar. I sense discomfort in you at the argument. I am not…stupid. I obey the will of my master. I have feasted for centuries upon the spiders of the forest, upon the centaurs and the unicorns. I do not meddle with hate or like."
"But you were pretty vocal last time!" Harry exclaimed, not knowing where this conversation was going at all.
"Because the last master would not let me eat anything else, master…when he left, I was happy."
"The…last master?"
"Decades ago, I barely remember. A descendant like you, who wielded the tongue and knew the spells…one whose soul was evil and broken…one who was bitter with the world. When I will recall the name, I will call you, master." The Basilisk then coiled around itself, letting its tongue flash through the air gently.
"Oh…good then…Watson." Harry nodded, "If you need to eat…you can go outside in the forest, but be careful alright? Wouldn't want you to be caught."
"Thank you master." Was there joy in that snake's voice? Puzzled, Harry found himself mechanically chuckling and 'patting' a scale of the giant's snake face. The fact the tail was bobbing to the sides like that of a dog furthermore…damn. Was he actually finding snakes cute of all things?
"Oh well…" Harry mumbled, and then he turned to leave. He hadn't expected leaving the chamber of secrets through the bathroom on the second floor, the one for the girls, but apart for an extremely scary and paralyzed ghost of a certain 'Myrtle' there was nothing that warranted holding it close…which suited a secret exit for the basilisk so much better than anything else.
His steps in the corridor brought along many whispers, some actually pointing at him and moving to the side. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, what was this all about actually?
"Harry!" Neville yelled as he pushed through a group of nosy students, clamping with his hand on his arm, "Where the hell have you been!?"
The moment the boy's hand came close enough to nearly touch his arm Harry knew the spell Cingo worked.
The next instant his wand was hovering straight ahead, in his hand, pointed at the boy.
"Training." Harry muttered, flicking his wand back in his sleeve. "What's going on? What's the fuss?"
Neville bit his lips, before finally gesturing at him to move towards the dining hall, where the rest of the students were apparently watching with fascination the ceiling.
"That is what the fuss is about." Neville remarked slowly, pointing where usually the mock sky ceiling of Hogwart's castle would be, and where instead letters, giant red letters, stood eerily written.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED! FRIENDS OF THE HEIR, BEWARE FOR YOU BELIEVE IN A FALSE KING!
Oh.
Oh.
OH.
On a side note, it wasn't even October to begin with.
On a plus note, it was probably a badly played prank.
On a minus note…he was screwed; especially when over a hundred eyes settled on him as soon as he walked in.
The Custodio spell, of course, had to begin barking in that precise moment.
Author's notes
Cliff hanger, once more!
This second year is going to be packed with surprises!
Now, the spells come both from the same meaning: 'Custodio' means to 'Guard/protect' (Like the Cerberus Custos) While 'Cingo' means Girdle/Circle and Guard as a last one.
Now, someone asked how the basilisk managed to feast on phoenixes.
I believe that said animals wouldn't be so rare if they could just be 'rebirthed' endlessly and thus increase their population. I supposed that Salazar would hunt for his little 'familiar' and feed him with his stuff.
As for why MRS. Norris wasn't affected: I explained it in the author notes, glad some caught on; the eyes of the basilisk go on a 'on/off' death powers thing by will.
For the Radio, it's actually easy: radios are magical things, for wizards at least, and thus they work. That said it was more of a Room of Requirement feature of Salazar: he'd spy on others by using the radio to do it, thus knowing what went on in the castle.
To Vikraal: 'Runes' are something anyone can point and say 'It's a symbol, has to be a rune'. Doesn't need a reference to Arabic, because 'runes' are merely symbols aligned together (In Harry's opinion, mind you)
Garoorar: Probably not. Considering the different approach, Tom would have just settled the snake on fighting, Harry instead just wanted a safe place to rest. In truth it's a bit strange Salazar would build a 'chamber of secrets' and then use it as a Basilisk depository filled with water…at least a bed somewhere.
Now, Harry is in Ravenclaw for a reason: he researches knowledge because he finds it interesting, not because he wants to become powerful. That's why he's with the crows and not the snakes. His ambition is survival and revenge, not 'rule the world and smash the enemies'.
Problem is someone's out for his blood in his second year…soon it will be October!
