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Basilisk Parts and Potions Masters

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Harry stared into space for a long time. There was too much information here, too much for him to process all at once. He needed time to think over what he'd seen and analyse it. He needed time to take it apart piece by piece and find out just what lay behind young Tom Riddle's façade.

He was obviously resourceful, and to have such control over his magic at that age spoke of great power. Harry was almost jealous – the boy had obviously grown up in situations as bad as his, but he had managed to redeem himself, turn his skills to his advantage rather than just incite beatings and starvation. He'd managed to fight back.

He was obviously clever, observant. Harry had watched him catch things from Dumbledore's face, picking up clues of what the man wanted to see in him and subtly arranged his features to match. But not too much, not so much that it would seem suspicious. He could already see that the boy was going to grow up a first class manipulator, and do it beautifully and naturally, and almost definitely in cold blood.

He was most certainly careful. Harry could see that he had learnt from his mistakes, never made the same ones again. Spontaneous and not so spontaneous magic had to be controlled, and he made sure that he wasn't seen around the scenes of his crimes, or caught in action. In fact, the incidents they'd heard about were probably just the few times that he'd slipped up.

And he'd said something, some little hint, hesitation that had been barely picked up. "I could do things, ever since-"…ever since what? Harry wondered. Something told him that to reveal this might give him a greater insight into the boy who'd grown into a murdering man.

His family…he'd need to look over them too. He was sure that there were books that might mention them, people who might remember. Salazar had told him that he should practice his Leglimency, hadn't he? He'd take up Dumbledore's work and make a study of the man.

"Know thy enemy," he whispered, and it occurred to him that it wouldn't be unwise to make a study of Dumbledore either. Standing abruptly, he turned to the headmaster. "I need time to think. I will return at a later date…owl you with a warning – not with Hedwig," he added with a glare.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied with a faint smile. "Might I suggest that you take the memories with you? Pensieves are not too rare that you would be unable to find them, and I have looked these over more than enough times to commit them to my own memory."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, that'd be useful." He briefly scanned the vials for traces of the man's magic before picking them up. As an afterthought, he swept the disabled tracking and monitoring instruments into an enlarged pocket. Dumbledore raised his silvery brows but Harry interrupted before he could protest.

"I'll take these, and you'll let me, or I'll find it in my heart to mention that you have been dabbling in Blood Magic," he said plainly.

"It seems I have no choice then," Dumbledore said with a sigh, eyes twinkling. "However, please forgive an old man's curiosity; what have you been doing for these months when you were away?"

Harry smiled with the first trace of humour since emerging from the memory. "Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

To his irritation as he neared the door he felt a familiar itch in his head that betrayed a Leglimens. The headmaster was nowhere near as smooth and skilled as Salazar was, no surprise there, and Harry felt the first stirrings of anger.

"I'll tell you this one for free old man. On the first day of my Mind Arts class I could feel the invasion. Now that I have fortified my barriers, do you really suspect that I wouldn't notice you?" he paused. "Do that again and I'll permanently impair you of the ability."

Sweeping out of the office, Harry made his way down past the gargoyle and reapplied his Chameleon Skin before Fading to the Dungeons, a smile curving up his lips.

Now Salazar, care to explain exactly what Dumbledore was doing with that ritual? Harry asked as he strolled slowly towards the Potions classroom.

Harry could almost see Salazar's scowl from beside him. The purpose of the Soul's Bane ritual is to find and briefly bind the target to the caster's control. In a sense, a projection of the Imperius curse with a tracking component combined. He must have been truly desperate to try something so foolhardy. The effects if you had been in the room would have undoubtedly ruptured your mind.

Harry frowned. Then why didn't it work?

I may have altered it, a little. A small frisson of black humour made its slow way to him from the ghost.

Harry snorted. I'll not ask how at any rate. I don't think I want to know.

Very good, Salazar murmured. Besides, your stubborn potions professor awaits and I suspect he will require your full attention. We will safeguard you against such rituals in future.

---

Harry knew he was going to have to be careful with Severus Snape. The man needed to be played well if he was going to get what he wanted, and obviously his general mix of resentfulness and intimidated act wouldn't work. It seemed that Harry was going to have to use a little of the arrogance the man had always told him he had in such abundance.

He was also aware that no matter how much he would have preferred not to have flaunted his powers, if he wanted to get the best he could out of the lessons then he would need to reveal at least some of what he was capable of. He understood that despite their mutual hatred for each other, Snape would do his due if he felt it was in his interest. Even more so if he was in Harry's debt. And Harry was painfully aware that if he wanted to have the level of skill he would need to combat the Dark Lord or any of the higher-ranking Death Eaters effectively, he would have to know how to use his power. He might be able to beat them with the sheer force of his magic now, but the moment he became exhausted or they used a spell he didn't know, he was sure to fall.

As he reached the Potions workroom he had been in earlier, he dropped the protections he had layered to conceal his magic and Faded in. He wanted to test his suspicions about the spy.

The moment he became completely corporeal, he sensed a difference in the magic surrounding the man. It was no longer the calm presence it had been, but was alert, ready, aware. Snape had most definitely noticed, but to his credit he had remained as relaxed as he had been before. Harry watched him idly for a few minutes, and he finally finished the stirring, set the cauldron to simmer and in the instant that he laid the ladle to the side he turned and whipped his wand out, hurling a stunner at Harry.

Harry's magic, on guard for that very event, rose up and dissipated it. He dropped his Chameleon Skin, clapping slowly.

"Very good Professor, very good," he said with a smile as his teacher's eyes widened and then narrowed to slits. "I wasn't sure you would notice, but I was pleasantly surprised."

Excellent reaction time, hmm? Salazar murmured in his head. Now you understand why he will make a valuable tool.

"Potter," Snape spat, keeping his wand levelled at the intruder, although his stance had relaxed slightly.

Yeah, if we don't kill each other first, Harry replied sarcastically, whilst wagging a finger at the Potions Master.

"I wouldn't relax so easy professor," he said with a broad grin. "Not while you remain unsure of your opponent. Isn't that what they say in Defence?"

Snape raised one brow in disbelief. "Really Potter? I somehow doubt that you could have had so much drummed into your skull in the few months you have been gone that you'd actually be able to remember that, let alone tackle even a squib in a duel," he replied scathingly.

"Oh, but you missed me, didn't you?" Harry said, his smile widening. "Still, why don't we test that theory out. You can attack, and I'll only defend," he said. "I swear it on my honour as a Gryffindor."

Snape snorted. "Gryffindors, despite their reputation, lack that particular attribute."

If only Godric were hear to hear him say such a thing, Salazar smirked inside his head.

"Snakes have honour though don't they? I heard Salazar Slytherin was a very honourable man," Harry said, enjoying playing for his mentor's benefit.

Or at least, I'd have agreed until I saw your collection of poisons, Harry added with an inward smirk.

Snape's eyes narrowed further, and then he struck with a sudden silent flash of red light that Harry identified as another stunner. It dissipated once more as he lashed out with his magic.

Why not give him a show? Salazar said, chuckling silently.

Harry laughed at this, and focused on drawing the fiery whips from his wrists. Snapping one in the air before him, he smirked.

"On guard, Snape."

Snape's eyes widened slightly before he sent of a veritable barrage of spells whistling towards him. Harry came rather quickly to understand that Lockhart wouldn't have stood a chance had he even had had any skill. Nevertheless, it appeared that practice had paid off, and he snapped them out of the air, targeting the stronger spells with the flails and the lesser with his peripheral magic.

It was a thrilling feeling, having thick tangles of Dark magic under his skin again, even if he wasn't using anything near compared to his full power. He imaged that this is what Voldemort felt like – constantly holding back so as not to completely cripple his opponent. Just giving them a sporting chance before he took them down. No doubt Snape wasn't giving him anywhere near his full skill – he didn't know that Harry had met with Dumbledore after all, and was probably considering what reward he'd get for bringing him in – but Harry thought he might be able to face him in a fair duel and win if it came right down to it.

Snape as a single man didn't have a patch on Salazar who could send multiple bolts of magic out from all directions, using the very power of the castle itself. Still, if he wanted the man's help then he would have to play this very carefully. He'd need to win without humiliating him - as very tempting as it was. Dividing his attention, he focused on using a thread of lighter magic to sweep over his opponent, and whilst dodging and snapping a rather unpleasant curse out of the air, he reached for the threads of Snape's periphery thoughts.

Most of them were a mixture of anger, shock, worry and a very, very slight tinge of awe. He caught fragments of the prophecy – 'him as his equal' – and another snapshot of – 'truly like the Dark Lor-' – before he decided to edge deeper. Upping his outer magical defences, he delved towards Snape's mind.

It had occurred to him after his memories had been restored that Salazar's method of teaching him Leglimency was rather different to the standard ones, as was the case with many of the particulars in Occlumency. He had realised that he had been taught a very special skill in that he was approaching the topic from a ghost's point of view, not that of someone living. As it was, he tackled the problem of invading his victim's mind by surrounding the person with magic and following the threads until they connected with the person in question. Indeed, the quickest way into someone's mind was through their magic – a force they couldn't block if they tried. Since ghosts were made just of magic and will, this was the only option. Salazar had discovered it only through long work, and Harry knew that most Mind Arts masters were disappointed to find that their methods were made useless in their spectral form.

Pushing forwards, Harry brushed the edges of his mind, catching a cool breeze. Pursuing the feeling further, he caught a snapshot of white sand under a night sky, stretching eternally onwards before that was snatched away and he perceived a frisson of anger directed at him. Resisting the temptation to leave behind a mental smirk, he turned his attention more fully to the fight in time to see a vicious cutting hex tear past his defences.

Surprised, Harry hurled his magic towards where it would impact moments before it struck, dissolving into nothingness on his skin. With a lazy flick, he slashed the next spell out of the air without taking his eyes away from where the hex had hit.

Salazar's spells had always struck and immediately effected him, but this was different. He had felt his magic rising up and engulfing the invading spell, snuffing it out like a light.

Frowning, he turned to Snape. "Throw another spell," he prompted.

The dark-haired man snarled and hurled a particularly unpleasant slashing hex towards him. This time Harry didn't retaliate with the whips, though he still itched to. The spell flew towards him in a flash of swirling purple light, and he focused his magic, covering its predicted impact.

As it collided with his chest, he felt little fingers of it prying against his own magic, attempting to worm towards his skin. Frowning in concentration, he observed as the power was drained from it, crushed out of existence by a greater power.

Surprised, he blinked and looked up at Snape, who was watching him with an unreadable expression, wand clasped loosely in one hand. No time like the present, he thought wryly.

"I'm going to need your help."

---

Severus Snape turned out to be a very stubborn man. Harry sighed, slumping in his chair and rubbing his temples. He'd got to the end of his persuasive banter, spattered with stinging insults, and was coming close to having to use his trump card. He had hoped he'd be able to convince him without the extra incentive.

"Professor, you're an experienced Occlumens, Voldemort-"

"Do not say his name!" Snape hissed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. The 'Dark Lord' is not about to rip the information out of your head, and even if he did I'm sure you'd be able to tell him you're 'swaying me to the Dark Side or something'," Harry said, exasperated.

Snape's face resolved itself into a snarl. "Potter, as satisfying as it would be to spend my time cursing you, your ignorant little mind seems to have neglected the fact that my position in the Dark Lord's forces is too valuable to compromise," he sneered. "I am not willing to lay my life on the line for some impudent brat with too much power to handle."

Harry sighed again. Are you sure you're okay with this? he asked Salazar.

As you wish, little one, Salazar replied blandly. She is dead, after all.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Right then. Say, Professor," he began, "I'm interested to know – how rare are Basilisk parts these days?"

Snape's eyes became very wide for a brief moment before narrowing again in thought. Leaning back, he sat for a long moment in contemplation. Finally, he ran an appraising glance over Harry, as if doubting that something like those words had even come out of his mouth.

"Bribery Potter?" he asked, with a hint of disdain. "Though rare, they are not completely unavailable to the market, if one knows where to look," he said slowly.

Harry shot him a scathing look. "I doubt that even all the gold in Gringotts could buy Salazar Slytherin's basilisk corpse."

Snape's eyes widened, and although his face remained blank Harry reflected that this was probably the most shock he'd ever seen on the man. It was as if the implications of the offer had just hit him, and he'd only then realised that Harry was speaking of the Chamber of Secrets. He chuckled inwardly. It must have killed him to know that the fabled room was just out of his reach, the key to it lying in his most hated student.

Running his tongue over his lips in a curiously nervous gesture, he managed to grind out, "What was it that you wished to learn?"

Harry smiled faintly and sat back. "Well, the problem is that the Dark Arts I've learnt are rather…dated." He couldn't keep the smile of his face as Salazar chuckled inside his head. "So, they're nice and all, but if I'm in a battle with some Dark Arts expert they're not going to compare to the modern equivalents, hmm?"

Snape nodded slowly, but Harry picked up some hesitation that had nothing to do with their unanimous animosity. Frowning slightly he concentrated his magical senses to get a better feeling of what was holding the man back. When he caught a flash of one of the man's thoughts, he barely kept a smirk from his face. It seemed that Snape hadn't disregarded the headmaster's suggestion of Harry becoming the next Dark Lord as much as it appeared.

"Voldemort killed my parents Professor," he replied to Snape's unspoken question. "I consider him a role model for what not to become."

Snape seemed to be about to snap at him about the name again, and settled for letting his lip curl. "And when will I be obtaining these Basilisk parts?"

"One piece up front, as an assurance of my sincerity, and another after each successful lesson." Harry paused, sending him a sly glance. He was sure Snape had got the implication that if he didn't behave, he wouldn't see anything at all.

Snape's face remained blank, but Harry could almost hear the cogs working in the man's brain. He was in a rather disadvantageous position. On the one hand he, like any Potion's master wanted nothing more than full access to Basilisk parts, but on the other, he wasn't in any position of power. Harry had an uncomfortable level of control over him, and it most definitely wasn't in his nature to be civil to him after six years of ridicule.

"They will require specialised handling," he said. "Given your Potions work, I doubt that you would have the slight of hand required to harvest and preserve them."

"The magic preserves the parts," Harry replied casually after a quick non-verbal confirmation with Salazar. "I'm sure you can instruct me of how to cut them out. In fact, you can do so in the first lesson, and I'll return directly afterwards with the pieces."

Snape caught the 'it's that or nothing' undertone to his words. After some length, he spoke again. "And why would you come to me?" he asked, looking at Harry with a spark of genuine curiosity.

"Trust me," Harry replied with a grimace. "You weren't my first choice either, but you were…ah…recommended. When I thought about it a bit more though, you were ideal."

Snape's frown deepened and he looked at the dark-haired youth thoughtfully, eyes boring into his. Harry easily deflected the invasion. "You know Occlumency," the dark-haired man stated.

Harry inclined his head. "I do."

"Then you did find a teacher," Snape murmured before his eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Harry shook his head and chuckled. "You know him, but only by reputation. I learnt Occlumency to keep my secrets to myself Snape, and that's what I'll do. And whilst we're on that note, I'd be grateful if you'd stop attempting to assault Ginny's mind." Snape scowled, but Harry merely smiled. "I'll know if you do, and let me assure you that you won't remember what you found there for long."

Snape's eyes narrowed in anger. "Are you threatening me Potter?"

"Why, yes I am Professor," Harry said with a broad grin. "What can I say? I've been turned into a new man, and you're not so intimidating when I know that I could send you up in flames with a flick of my fingers." He paused to observe his teacher's dual disbelief and wariness flit across his face.

"Talking of things like that," he continued. "Have you got any ideas on how I could test the range of my powers?"

Snape scowled again. "What are the benefits for me Potter?"

Harry's grin widened. "I could lead you to fame, gain you glory, even teach you to stop death…" he said mangling the man's words. "But seriously, what more would you want than a Basilisk carcass?"

A grimace crossed the older man's face. "It may not have occurred to you, but there are some occupational hazards to teaching you, even when you are brewing something as simple as burn salves, let alone teaching you the Dark Arts…"

Harry looked at him appraisingly, weighing up his options.

There is a manuscript in my chambers on the mechanics of poisons, Salazar murmured in his head. I was in the habit of making copies, and no doubt dear Severus would give his firstborn son to even touch it, let alone read it. That, however, must be the limit to the bribery. He must do the rest to repay the deep debt he will owe you.

Harry returned a mental shrug and then replied with only a tinge of hesitation. I wouldn't normally do this, but…I'm interested to see how you work. You can take the driving seat and play this out if you want.

There was a long pause, before Harry experienced the familiar sensation of being moved back from his own mind. It was less unsettling and unpleasant than it had been the first few times the ghost had done it, but it still left Harry with only feelings of helplessness for company as he watched his body move without his consent.

"Severus," his voice said, and Harry let out a mental chuckle and Snape's look of mild outrage and disgust that he'd use his name. It seemed Salazar was going to be playing games with him. "My mentor was rather a…fan of Salazar Slytherin. He dedicated his life to the collection of particular, rare artefacts created by the Founder."

He paused to watch the mixture of emotions flit across his companion's face. It took mere seconds for the Potions Master to put all the pieces together before his eyes widened in surprise.

"I am sure that he could find it in his heart to briefly part with an edition of 'The Mechanics of Poisones', if you comply. I think you'll find that the 'occupational hazards' are well compensated."

Snape looked at him with a small spark of hope before it was extinguished and his eyes narrowed again. "Potter, you've reached new levels of idiocy. That text was lost centuries ago. You're claiming the impossible, and I will most certainly stand for your lies," he spat.

Harry felt a small coil of anger work its way back to him from Salazar. "Are you willing to risk that you might be wrong?" he asked silkily, carrying a dangerous undertone that Harry had become only too familiar with.

Snape looked torn in wariness and indecision as he listened. Finally he ground out a response. "I am not willing to risk it. But if you prove to be wrong, I want the power of demanding retribution. Swear on it."

Inwardly, Salazar was chuckling in satisfaction and grinning like a cat who'd got the cream. Harry smirked alongside him. Step one of his plan was finished.

"I swear on my life that if I do not provide one Severus Snape with the text named, then he will be able to demand and deliver damage up to death," Salazar spoke through Harry's voice.

Snape smiled darkly for the first time in the meeting, although there was a hint of suspicion thrown in, and Harry growled in frustration in his head. Salazar had provided a very good oath for the potions professor, and Harry didn't like the terms even if he had no intention of letting it come into action.

Calm, little one, Salazar murmured as he retreated from his mind. I was the one who swore the oath, not you.

Harry frowned inwardly before letting out a slightly hysterical mental laugh, relieved as he worked it all out. Oath magic worked on the entity that had sworn it, not the person out of whose mouth it had come. That was why Death Eaters had always blackmailed the victims into swearing an oath rather than doing it through the Imperius curse. Salazar had given Snape the chance to kill him if he refused, but being already dead…

Harry breathed an involuntary sigh of relief when he returned to his own mind, in the security that it was now his and his alone. Sharing his mind with someone in that fashion left him with a sense of exposure that made him very uncomfortable. Harry could feel Salazar's amused smirk, and despite himself he found it reassuring. So far the Founder had been very fair with such things, and Harry didn't think he was about to turn tail and attack him.

Standing abruptly, he conjured the time, shaking his head at the late hour. Turning to Snape, he said his goodbyes. "I'll be seeing you in…three days or so at around seven. I expect that you'll have something to teach me worked out by then, and you can explain how to dissect the basilisk. In the meantime, I have things to do, people to meet…" he paused in thought. "What's Mercury like?"

"What are you babbling about Potter?" Snape snapped, but he watched Harry sharply nonetheless.

"I'll need to brush up on Leglimency, and there are things I'll need to know…" he trailed off, looking at Snape intently. "On that note, I'd prefer if you didn't tell people about all this," he said with an idle gesture, "and I think you'll find you'll prefer that you don't tell people either. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you tell even your precious Dumbledore, you'll find that I know enough binding charms to impair your ability to speak full stop."

Snape shot daggers at him. "Since we're working together Potter, perhaps you should mind your tongue, or you'll discover that there are other ways to stop people from ever speaking again."

Harry looked at him for a long moment before laughing delightedly. Oh, you were right; he's perfect, he directed to the Founder. I don't think anyone's ever threatened to cut out my tongue before.

Turning, he reapplied the Chameleon Skin and simultaneously created a loud crack, like that of Apparition before Fading back out. It couldn't hurt to make people even more impressed than they already were, and being able to Apparate within Hogwarts was definitely an impressive feat.

His next destination was Gryffindor Tower. Fading once more, he re-emerged in the cosy round room with a sigh of pleasure. As much as he'd liked Salazar's chambers, there was something about the Gryffindor common room that called to him as home. He was going to miss this place when he left.

Turning away from the gently glowing fire, he headed towards the boy's dormitories, feeling almost overwhelmed with nostalgia. One day, he vowed, he'd return to the one place he'd ever been able to call home a free man, and be able to truly enjoy being there once more.

Peering around the darkened dormitory, he cast a one-sided Silencing charm and a few concealing spells around all the beds but those of Ron and Neville. Adding a thread of magic to the door to seal it, he crossed to bed of his best friend. It didn't hurt to be cautious.

"Ron," he murmured, shaking his arm. "Ron, wake up."

"No…g'way," the redhead mumbled, "just a little longer…"

"Ron!" he shouted, and the boy promptly jerked out of sleep and pushed himself into a sitting position, squinting at him.

"Harry? Is that really you?" he asked sleepily. Harry chuckled, sitting himself cross-legged on his bed.

"'Course it's me. But you need to wake up before I tell you more-" he broke off, listening. Then a light voice crossed the room.

"Harry?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Neville. How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine Harry." He paused. "I'm more worried about you though. With all those Prophet articles it must be stressful…" he trailed off, and Harry breathed another sigh of relief. Ginny had told him the people who believed in his innocence, but it didn't hurt to be sure.

"Why don't you come over here, and I'll explain everything that's been going on." He frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, wait here. I'll get Hermione too."

Tumbling off Ron's bed, he scampered down the stairs, re-applying the Chameleon Skin as he went. Reaching the base of the girl's dormitories, he stopped and peered up into the darkness. Shrugging, he Faded partway out of existence.

"Well, here goes," he murmured. Stepping gingerly onto the first step, he tiptoed up towards the level he guessed Hermione was on. He was reaching the top of the stairs when he felt his mind separating in the onset of a Chill. Wincing, he tried to take the few steps more it would take to reach the landing, but he was enclosed in a bubble of hazy thought, emotionless, purposeless.

In the distance he could feel the swish and crash of immense waves of water flooding through the castle, clipping the ancient stones at each turn, swirling below in the common room before flooding up the stairs.

He was surrounded in a cocoon of cold, a comforting chill that spread through him, into his very bones, chiming with his magic and binding him in a dreamy state. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned on the stairs and started back down. The common room fire had been extinguished, and the condensation on the windows had frozen. The panes of glass had small cracks running through them.

Harry took all this in as he walked. Feathers of ice stretched across a bottle left on one of the tables. Feathers…white wings fluttering in the back of his mind…

Growling, he shook the hold from his mind, unconsciously bemoaning the loss of the feeling. As the haze fled, he shivered with the cold. Wincing as he moved, he made his way back towards the foot of the stairs, bones creaking painfully with each step. Rousing his magic, he blanketed himself in warmth.

This time he didn't hesitate or ascend the stairs slowly, he jogged up until he reached the dorm. Threading a whisper of silence around him, he entered the room.

A low babble of voices hit him. Lavender was complaining loudly, and Parvati was adding her own supporting comments beneath. Ignoring them, Harry crossed the room, looking around for the familiar head of busy hair.

The farthest bed, beside the window just like his, remained quiet. Worriedly, he pulled the curtains open, sending up a concealment barrier around them. Inside, Hermione lay sprawled across her pillow, unmoving and very pale.

Anxiety mounting, he leaned closer and saw only the slightest rise of her chest to indicate her breathing. Her pulse against his fingertips was so slow as to be non-existent, and Harry entered full-blown panic.

The chill was an intense shock to her system, Salazar interjected impassively. It looks like it was too much for her to handle.

---

Notes: Appalling update rate recently, I know, but you'll just have to put up with it for the time being. I've finally finished school, and upcoming exams are eating up my time like nothing else, so fanfiction has had to be put on the backburner. Sorry if I haven't got back to some of the reviews – I have read them, and they're very much appreciated. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.