Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.

Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar and Fezzik for their work on this story.

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Recommendations:

Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.

Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.

Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.

The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.

Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.

The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.

A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.

Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe.

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

Parseltongue.

Memories/In Story Text.

Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal

By ACI100.

Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.

Chapter 9: Confessions and Conspiracies.

October 31st 1992.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Second Floor.

7:21 PM.

Harry remained frozen in absolute shock and astonishment as he gazed upon the frozen form of Mrs. Norris and the ominous writing upon the wall until the sound of the oncoming mass of students grew loud enough to indicate that they had all practically arrived. For a number of seconds, Harry had the fleeting impulse to run, but then, he realized that he was safely hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. Silently, Harry thanked any deities that may exist for providing him the foresight to at least not remove the cloak, even if he was realizing by this point that rushing off after whatever had spoken of blood and murder had probably been a rather poor idea.

As the students all entered the corridor, every single one of them, even the Slytherins, who were still comically dressed in leotards, froze in much the same manner that Harry himself had done mere moments earlier. Harry took that opportunity to slip in between the frozen students, still invisible, and begin to work his way back towards Neville, Ron and Dean.

As he did so, he had the most odd sensation of… something cold washing over him. It was hard to explain but it was as if a freezing droplet of water had fallen into the pit of his stomach. Just as he noticed the phenomenon, Filch's loud, oily voice permeated the oppressive silence that had fallen over the corridor as a whole and mere moments after he had realized the apparent fate of his cat and fallen to his knees in an apparent mixture of fury and despair, several of the teachers including Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Lockhart and Dumbledore swept onto the scene.

As Harry managed to sidle up to his friends, he could have swore that Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to him for the briefest of seconds. Crouching as not to be seen once Dumbledore had looked away, Harry removed his cloak of invisibility and straightened up, an act that caused Neville to jump about a foot in the air. "Shh!" Harry told his friends in a whisper.

"Harry?" Ron asked, trying to spot what on earth was going on. "What-"

"Not now!" Harry hissed, and the seriousness of his voice made it apparent that he was not willing to argue.

"But-"

"Listen, I know what happened but I have no clue how it happened and I need you to please, please tell anybody who asks that I was with you guys the whole time or this is going to look really bad on me."

Ron nodded mutely, as if giving up Harry to a teacher had never even crossed his mind. Neville's eyes had narrowed upon him at the same moment as Dean, the tallest boy in their year, gasped as he managed to spot the gruesome sight at the front of the crowd and quickly began relaying the information to Ron and Neville just as a loud, clear, all too familiar voice ran out in a triumphant manner that was a stark juxtaposition to the pink leotard that clung to the speaker's slim body.

"Enemies of the Heir beware. Watch out mudbloods, blood traitors; you're next!"

At the mention of the word "mudblood" Dean's posture stiffened and Harry's wand hand flexed. He wished he could summon his wand and curse Malfoy to oblivion. Sadly, he knew that drawing any attention to oneself at present was a rather dreadful idea, something he did his utmost best to communicate to his three friends with looks alone.

A moment later, Harry spotted Dumbledore and the other teachers exiting the corridor with Mrs. Norris in hand and a distraught looking caretaker on their heels. As Dumbledore was leaving, he locked eyes with Harry, and the younger boy nearly jumped out of his skin when a small but obvious voice practically spoke in his mind.

'Follow.'

Shocked, Harry glanced from Dumbledore, who was now looking in the complete opposite direction, to his three friends, who were by this point staring at him expectantly. "Harry," Ron tried again, "what in the hell-"

"I'm sorry," Harry told them genuinely, trying to project his very real empathy through his emerald eyed stare, "I have to go again… Dumbledore… well, I'll explain everything later, I promise." And before any of his three friends could object, Harry had bent down once more, thrown the cloak on over top of himself and followed the Professors at a brisk pace. As he followed them, Harry tried to keep up with their conversation but it was difficult. He did not want to draw too close to them in case he somehow managed to give himself away. Before long, the teachers had all ducked into a room and Dumbledore, who swept in last, held the door open for just a few seconds longer than was normal, his eyes sweeping around the seemingly empty corridor meaningfully. Taking the hint with a fair bit of surprise, Harry scampered into the room that he now recognized as Lockhart's office, making sure to brush up against the Headmaster as he did so in an effort to alert the man to his presence. Subtly, Dumbledore nodded in what Harry thought was satisfaction before he quietly closed the door and turned to his colleagues and caretaker.

At once, Dumbledore quickly stepped up to the desk upon which the still unmoving form of Mrs. Norris lay and withdrew his long, dark wand from his sleeve. As Dumbledore ran the wand up and down the body of the cat in question, Filch had sunk to his knees once more and was loudly proclaiming how the little bastards had killed her. Meanwhile, Lockhart was muttering something incomprehensible about how he had seen something similar and how if he was just a few minutes earlier, he could have saved the poor creature. Before his monologue could conclude, however, Dumbledore's voice cut him off rather sharply, despite the fact that it was as calm and level as ever.

"She is not dead, Argus." Immediately, Lockhart's muttering ceased and Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall all moved forward to cast their own charms as Dumbledore, who's face had nearly been touching Mrs. Norris a moment earlier, stepped back.

"Well what happened then?" Filch demanded furiously. "Which one of the little shits did it?"

"No student could have done this." Dumbledore said, and though his voice was still calm, there was an odd sort of edge to it that Harry had never heard there before.

"Are you certain of this, Headmaster?" Snape asked bluntly. "There was at least one student who was noticeably conspicuous by his absence during our ascent to the corridor, one who has been labeled by many in this very room as a prodigy-"

"Who are you suggesting, Severus?" Flitwick asked him.

Snape sneered. "The very boy who you have tutored for months against my recommendation, Fillius."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus." McGonagall said sharply. "No second year could have done this sort of magic."

Snape rolled his eyes. "It was thought that no first year could manage O+'s in-"

"Enough." Dumbledore's voice was quiet but it was sharp, authoritative and commanding and Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall all fell silent immediately as Dumbledore's eyes briefly flashed from Harry back to Snape. "Harry did not commit the crime you seem to be accusing him of, Severus. Of that at least, I am certain."

Snape sneered again. "Are you truly certain, headmaster? I know he is your protégé and such, but-"

"But such things grant me more of an insight into Harry Potter than you have ever gleaned through your own preconceived notions and singularly biased observations." Dumbledore did not sound accusatory, but the insinuation was rather obvious. In a way, Harry felt oddly touched by the man's vehement defense of him and he felt an odd warmth rise from the pit of his stomach to the center of his chest.

"You are certain?" Snape asked.

"I am." Dumbledore returned, and his tone and manner left no room for arguments. "I am not certain of what nature the magic that caused this was, but I assure each of you that it is far above the scope of any Hogwarts student."

"Do you not have theories, Albus?" McGonagall asked, and Harry was shocked to hear her voice waver.

"Why Minerva, I have dozens, but which of them if any are near to the truth, I have no idea." He shook his head, a look of utter sadness plastered upon his wrinkled face. "For now, allow Mrs. Norris to rest in the hospital wing. I very much doubt any wanded magic will be able to reverse what has been done to her tonight, and I suspect very strongly that we will have no choice but to wait for the Mandrakes to fully mature."

"And what is it exactly that has happened?" Snape asked silkily.

"Mrs. Norris has been petrified." Dumbledore said simply. "How this was achieved, I do not know. I can think of several methods to achieve such a thing, but it is very clear to me that none of them have been used. Do you perhaps have any ideas, Severus?" Snape paused, running his wand over Mrs. Norris's prone form for yet another minute before shaking his head curtly. "In that case," Dumbledore sighed, "I think it best that we allow Mrs. Norris to rest in the hospital wing and adjourn this most impromptu meeting."

"What of the students?" Flitwick asked him. "Do we implement a new curfew? Conduct a search of the student body?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "As of now, there is no need to instill panic in what will already be a rather shaken student body. For now, we wait. We shall see if this mysterious Heir plays his hand too early." Harry noted that Dumbledore, who always seemed to be above such mistakes referred to the possible heir as only a "he" which made the young Gryffindor wonder if Dumbledore knew something on the matter that he himself did not.

A minute or so later, the staff were all exiting the room and Dumbledore, again the last one out the door, cast a brief glance over his shoulder and jerked his head in a gesture that was rather obviously meant to signify Harry should follow him. Not sure whether or not to remove his cloak, Harry decided against it and simply followed the Headmaster in silence until, minutes later, Dumbledore waved his wand and caused the door of his study to swing open. With another wave of his wand, Harry's usual chair appeared across his desk and only when, after allowing an oddly long period of time to pass since its opening, Dumbledore closed the door did he speak at all. "You may remove your cloak now, Harry."

Without hesitating, Harry did as he was asked, folding it neatly before he shakily stepped forward and took the seat across from Dumbledore. "I must apologize for earlier." Dumbledore began. "I imagine a psychic message was rather jarring for you to receive for the first time in such a manner, but I thought your presence would be paramount."

"Professor, I promise I didn't-"

"Calm yourself, Harry. I was not lying to my companions back in Gilderoy's office. I am well and completely aware that you did not cause the fiasco involving Mrs. Norris."

Harry relaxed instantly and looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have assumed…"

"It's quite alright, Harry." Dumbledore paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing the conversation. "You did yourself no favours fleeing to the scene of the crime while under your family's cloak." Dumbledore told him. "I do trust you did not do such a thing for no reason at all, so tell me, Harry, if you would be so kind, what caused this course of action in the first place?"

Harry hesitated. "There's some… background to this I should explain first, sir."

Dumbledore sighed, looking as if that one comment had aged him ten long years. "Before you do so, Harry, is it suffice to say that you have not been quite as forthcoming with information as you had promised?"

Harry winced but did not look away. "Yes sir." He answered. "I didn't mean to keep secrets from you. I honestly just doubted the events; I thought I was delirious at the time, or something. I had just spent all night in detention with Lockhart."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched and Harry noticed that for the first time ever when using a teacher's informal name, Dumbledore did not call him on it. "A rather apt reason to assume delirium." He told Harry. "I am not upset with you, Harry, I simply wish to understand the full scope of tonight's events. Many of us withhold information from one another. Such a thing is not a crime."

"Right, well, near the end of that detention, I heard a voice, but it was… odd? I don't really know how to explain it. It didn't exactly sound human — it was like nails scraping across a chalkboard but when I asked Lockhart whether or not he had heard anything, he told me that he hadn't." Harry frowned. "I guess he could have lied, but if he did, he is a very convincing actor."

Dumbledore peered at Harry from over his folded fingers. "Do not underestimate Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry." He said carefully. "The man is no prodigy with a wand, but he most certainly has his talents and I think you will find that a flare for the dramatic arts is chief amongst them. In any case, I do not believe that Professor Lockhart lied about not hearing the voice. That is, assuming my theory is correct that tonight, you heard the same voice?" Harry nodded. "Harry, please do not take this the wrong way; I do believe you are being honest and I do believe that voice has spoken to you, so please do not overreact. But tonight, nobody else heard any sort of voice." Harry tensed at that revelation. If not for Dumbledore's words, he would perhaps wonder whether or not he was going a bit barmy. "Can you tell me what the voice said, Harry? Was it personal? Vague? Be as specific as you can, if possible."

"I remember exactly what it said." Harry assured Dumbledore. "The first night in Lockhart's office, it said rip… tear... kill. Let me rip you, let me tear you, let me kill you." Harry watched Dumbledore closely for a reaction, any reaction, but he got none. "I thought it was talking specifically to me at the time, but now, I don't think whatever it was minded who it went after."

"An astute deduction that I think is likely correct." Dumbledore conceded with the air of somebody who had recently sucked on a rather sour lemon. "And tonight? He prompted.

"It smelled blood." Harry said dryly. "So close, so tantalizingly close were its exact words." Harry gazed imploringly at his headmaster. "You don't think I'm going mad or anything, do you sir?"

Dumbledore's features softened. "No Harry, I do not think it at all likely that is the solution to this mystery. I merely think that your house elf admirer may have been very much correct in his warnings."

"Do you know what it is, sir? Could it be some kind of spirit? A demon, or something?"

"I do not know what the creature is," Dumbledore said, "though I am fairly confident it is a creature of some sort. I do not think a spirit or anything of the like is possible, between the two of us. Spirits rarely have the power to affect the living so directly and so drastically. I have never heard of a spirit doing anything like what happened tonight."

"Do you have any guesses?"

"Again, I was not lying to Minerva. I have dozens, but that does not help us a great deal, does it?"

Harry shook his head before he hesitated. "What about the message, sir? Enemies of the Heir beware? Do you have any idea what that means?"

Briefly, Harry noticed an indistinguishable emotion flash past Dumbledore's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I can only guess." He answered neutrally.

"Are there-are there any guesses you would be comfortable sharing, sir?"

"Not quite yet, Harry." Dumbledore responded with a benign smile. "I will share them with you if any become more likely than the others, as I believe you have a right to know, seeing this debauckle seems to affect you so directly. For now, however, allow yourself a rest bit. Focus on your classes, your Occlumency, your own self improvement and what I am sure will be a most marvellously magical Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin this next weekend."

October 31st 1992.

The Room of Requirement.

9:06 PM.

Despite Dumbledore saying that curfew would not be changed as a result of the attacks, it was enacted early on Halloween as a precaution. As a result of this, Harry had to sneak Ron, Dean and Neville to the Room of Requirement under the cloak. It took two trips, as three people could just barely squeeze under said cloak as long as Ron and Dean did not go at the same time. In saying that, fitting a fourth person under the cloak would have been completely impossible.

When the four second year Gryffindors were finally gathered in the Room of Requirement, they all turned hard, expectant stares upon Harry. Personally, Harry would much, much rather be explaining this to Neville alone. It was not that he didn't trust his other two friends, but the level of trust between him and Neville was on a different level and these were rather important secrets. Seeing as he had fled from them at the scene of the crime, it didn't really matter what Harry wanted, since it was quite obvious that he owed all three of them an explanation.

It was rather awkward explaining to three people that he had been hearing voices that nobody else could hear, but Ron and Dean relaxed drastically after hearing Dumbledore's assurances that he was not going mad. Neville did not relax, but Harry thought that likely had more to do with the fact that he was probably upset at Harry for telling Dumbledore before him.

"So Dumbledore has no clue what it is or why only you can hear it?" Ron asked, sounding more surprised that Dumbledore didn't have an answer than he was about the actual events themselves.

"I told you," Harry said tiredly, "he said he has guesses. He could be bluffing, but I doubt it. Say what you want about Dumbledore, but he's not quite as barmy as people like to think he is and he always seems to know what's going on around here."

"Course he does!" Ron said proudly. "He's Dumbledore, isn't he?" Briefly, Harry and Neville exchanged loaded glances at that proclamation, though the exchange was not caught by either of their other two friends.

November 2nd 1992.

The Charms Classroom.

8:42 PM.

Harry slumped to the floor once more as Flitwick's bludgeoning curse caught him completely off guard after slipping through his defenses. After the first two weeks of the year, he and Flitwick had resumed their lessons and Harry had found them to be as helpful as ever. He had clearly improved leaps and bounds, something that was made evident during their mock duels. He had still yet to best Flitwick. As a matter of fact, he still hadn't really landed much on the man at all, but he had snuck in a well placed cutting curse the last time they practiced and opened a cut on the man's arm. After he beat Harry a few minutes later, instead of being upset, Flitwick positively beamed at his pupil for his accomplishment. Harry was rather proud of it too, seeing as Flitwick was a former multiple time world champion duelist.

Tonight, Harry had lasted nearly twice as long as his previous best time against Flitwick. Suffice to say, Supplementary Occlumency was very useful. The man had been completely taken aback when his protégé's spells sailed towards him so much faster than ever before, and he had been even more surprised when the punch behind them did not suffer as a result. Mind you, he had still beaten Harry without too much effort on his part, but this was progress. It was even more impressive when one considered that Flitwick had started casting wordlessly during their duels. This infuriated Harry both because it made it far more difficult for him and because it was almost like a slap in the face, since he was struggling so much with the ability. Still, he was very, very proud of their progress and so was Flitwick, which he made obvious with a fair bit of praise before Harry walked out the door.

When he left the room and began to walk back to his common room, Harry crossed paths with a short, thin strawberry blonde whom he recognized to be Daphne's friend. Davis, he thought her surname was. As they passed one another, the girl stumbled, falling forward and clasping onto Harry's hand for balance. At first, Harry was rather annoyed, but as he felt the slip of parchment forced into his hand, he could hardly be agitated.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" Davis exclaimed, righting herself before blushing furiously. "I-I-"

"Davis," Harry cut her off, glancing around before smiling at her easily, "don't be so dramatic. There's no one around; the act is unnecessary. Thanks for the note, but next time, could you please do it without nearly knocking me over if there is nobody around to see you handing it to me?" Davis flushed but in spite of herself, she smiled.

"Sure thing, Potter. Good luck with that, by the way." And before Harry could inquire further, Tracey Davis briskly walked off in the opposite direction, leaving a thoroughly exasperated Harry to read the note from his favourite friend in Slytherin.

Potter,

The usual place, Wednesday at 7:00 PM.

Do not dare be late.

Daphne.

Harry crooked an eyebrow. He was not sure if the fact that no playful jabs had been thrown was a good or a bad sign, but he supposed he would be finding out in less than forty-eight hours.

November 4th 1992.

The History of Magic Classroom.

1:24 PM.

As usual, the first year Gryffindors had endured the first fifteen minutes or so of their weekly test in patience. Well, patience and staying awake. As usual, Harry had simply chosen to study other material. Today, it was the book of Ancient Runes that Daphne had sent him over the summer. He was really becoming interested in the subject and between his lessons with Daphne and his own study, he had quite the firm handle on Elder Futhark by this point. Now, they would be moving onto the next ancient language and Harry would solidify his understanding on Futhark on his own time. For possibly the first time ever in Binns's class, Harry's attention was brought back onto the lecture when Neville tapped his quill on the desk in front of him, drawing his attention from his book of Runes.

When he quirked a questioning brow at his best friend, Neville simply gestured in the direction of Hermione Granger and Harry's Interest piqued. Hermione's hand was raised in the air and though Binns did not seem to have noticed, the attention of the rest of the class was firmly upon her. None in the room could remember a time where anybody, not even Hermione Granger had raised their hand in History of Magic. When Binns seemed to notice the sudden pique in attention, he looked up. Privately, Harry thought it was the most observant thing the ghost had ever done. Then again, when one became so accustomed to nobody paying attention, it must have felt quite jarring to have the intense attention of an entire class.

Binns blinked as if coming out a trance and slowly, very slowly, his dull eyes rested upon Hermione. "You have a question Ms…"

"Granger, professor."

"Yes… yes, Granger, Granger. What is your question, Ms. Granger?"

"Well, I was wondering whether or not you could tell me about The Chamber of Secrets, sir?"

At that, Harry perked up. He remembered, vaguely, a passage on The Chamber of Secrets in Hogwarts, A History. If he was remembering correctly, it had been quite short and rather nondescript. From what he remembered, The Chamber of Secrets was one of the many myths that had been tied to the ancient castle over the centuries. The book had only mentioned it in passing, but it had said something about Slytherin if Harry was not incorrect. Something about Slytherin's final vengeance against the three other founders.

Professor Binns suddenly wore the look of somebody who looked as if they had been doused in cold water. "The… Chamber of Secrets, Ms. Graham?"

"Yes professor, and it's Granger."

"Yes yes, Ms. Granger. This class is History of Magic. History refers to what has happened in the past. The class is based on indisputable facts, not flimsy myths and legends. I will not delve into such faulty stories as that of The Chamber of Secrets." Binns made to return to his lecture, but Hermione did not give him the opportunity.

"Please, sir, don't most myths and legends have their basis in facts?"

Binns paused once more as the class seemed to hold its collective breath. Binns's dead eyes roamed over each of them before the ghost sighed in a matter far more dramatic than any of his classes had ever been. "Very well, very well. Let me think — hmm… yes, The Chamber of Secrets. You will all know of course that in the year 990, Hogwarts was founded by the four greatest sorcerers of the age. Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. I will not waste time explaining the house system to you because if you haven't figured it out yet, you should not be in my class. As it turned out, the founders worked in harmony for an unknown amount of time. Some historians estimate thirty years, but others say it was closer to ten."

Binns paused. "Everything I have just told you is factual information. Now, I must enter the realm of myths and legends." He made it sound as if this course of action was one that he found to be rather disgusting, but he did indeed continue. "As legend has it, whenever this period of time came to a close, it did so because of an argument between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Gryffindor wanted to educate all no matter where they came from. He said that every student with magic had a place at Hogwarts. Salazar disagreed; he said, again, according to legend, that any student with a muggle parent should not be welcome. It is said this sparked a major conflict. Some ridiculous retellings even say that the conflict came down to a duel, but such stories are just that, ridiculous. What is indisputable is that Slytherin did eventually leave the school. Some conspiracy theorists say that when he did, he left behind a hidden chamber. Inside the chamber, according to these people, is a monster with the capability of purging Hogwarts of any and all muggle born students." Binns coughed. "It should be noted that many Headmasters of this fine institution have been foolish enough to put stock in these theories and none of them have found anything to suggest that Slytherin left behind as much as a secret broom cupboard." Binns sighed. "Some even more foolish men and women have stated that eventually, Salazar Slytherin's true Heir will come to Hogwarts and with him will come the opening of this fantastical chamber and the unleashing of the monster within." If Binns was not so robotic in terms of his mannerisms, Harry would have expected him to laugh derisively. As it happened, he merely went back to reading his notes, ignoring any and all attempts to divert the conversation back towards the Chamber of Secrets.

November 4th 1992.

An Abandoned Classroom.

6:58 PM.

Harry had spent a bit of time this year pondering on how to avoid Daphne's habit of scaring the wits out of him whilst invisible. The best solution he had come up with was to arrive late in an effort to assure he was the last in the room. After the tone of her last letter, Harry did not think that course of action was particularly advisable on this night though. So instead, he showed up two minutes early and awaited Daphne's arrival.

He was ready for a hand to rest on his shoulder, or a push against his chest, or a whisper in his ear, or a whole other myriad of things that Daphne had done before in an effort to jump scare him. One thing he had most certainly not been expecting was to suddenly see a jet of purple light and find himself slumping to the floor due to what was unmistakably the full-body-bind curse. He could not so much as move but internally, he was panicking. Firstly because he had very obviously just been ambushed and secondly, because after ten long years of less than pleasant experiences, there was absolutely nothing Harry hated more than the feeling of being helpless. Unbidden, memories flowed to the surface of his mind, far too many memories that he had absolutely no interest whatsoever in reliving.

A few seconds later, Harry was rolled over and his eyes widened when he realized that it was indeed Daphne who was standing over him, and she did not look happy. Quickly, Daphne repositioned him so he was in a seated position up against the wall, and seconds later, she had rolled up the sleeve of his robe and removed his wand from its holster, stowing the offending weapon away in a pocket of her robes. Harry's heart rate quickened even more and his eyes began to bulge. His body was entirely tensed, partially due to his continued attempts at resistance and partially due to the myriad of memories and emotions washing over him like an oncoming tide.

"Good to see you, Harry, but please don't struggle." Daphne said in a poisonously sweet voice that would have made him flinch if he could have moved. She patted his arm, which was completely tensed as he tried in vain to free himself from the effects of her spell. When he tensed, Daphne paused and looked down at him and when their eyes met, hers widened in what looked like something akin to realization or even horror. Harry's eyes were wide and intense, giving him the look that one may expect to see on the face of a wounded or cornered animal. It was a look of fear and desperation, but also one of fury and intent. Daphne froze as her mind connected a few dots and suddenly she was internally cursing herself. She remembered how at the family gala for New Year's Eve the previous year, Harry had been rather tense during their dance and how, in the past, he had not reacted positively to touch. She had never asked about his home life, but he had never volunteered information either and suddenly, Daphne realized the scope of what she had just done.

"Oh… Merlin, Harry… I'm sorry I didn't-I didn't think." She waved her wand. "Finite Incantatem." She stepped back quickly, fearing he may leap to his feet and attack her or something similar, but he didn't. Instead, he did the last thing that Daphne wanted him to do. He let out a long, deep breath and relaxed only marginally before he slumped even further against the wall. He was breathing quite quickly as his body shook minutely. He did not cry, nor did he scream, but it was blatantly evident to Daphne that she had sparked quite a major breakdown. She would never claim to be a super empathetic person in general, but she felt a hippogriff sized bubble of guilt well up within her stomach and suddenly, she thought she may have preferred it if he had struck her.

Internally, Daphne debated what to do. She could leave the room; she should not be witnessing this, she did not deserve to be witnessing something so personal. If she did that though, it may lead to a permanent rift between the two of them, and that was not something she was overly eager to have happen. Also, Daphne may have been a Slytherin through and through, but for all of her qualities both negative and positive, nobody could accuse Daphne Greengrass of being a coward. Hesitantly, carefully, Daphne slowly made her way towards the still shaky form of Harry Potter and, kneeling down onto his level, Daphne very tentatively reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Harry flinched back and Daphne winced.

"Harry," Daphne said softly, sighing in internal relief when the rare use of his first name mixed with the soft tone of her voice drew at least a fraction of his attention, "I didn't think, ok? I'm… sorry for what happened. It was meant as a sort of revenge for your part in the pranks but… ugh… I'm not good at this — I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you, nor is anyone else right now."

The look in his eyes was still wild, but his body loosened up, if only a bit. Daphne met eyes with him and very slowly, very deliberately, seeming to ask for permission through her stare, Daphne placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, running it slowly up and down his arm for several minutes until she felt the Gryffindor in front of her relax to a semi normal posture.

"Never do that again!" His voice was not loud. In fact, it was rather quiet, but Daphne almost flinched herself at the force behind it as his emerald eyes locked onto her sapphire ones once more. It no longer looked like he was a wounded animal. Instead, it looked as if he were something ethereal, something with out of this world power that she had severely pissed off. There was still a sort of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was masked by sheer and unadulterated intent.

"I promise." Daphne said softly, actually allowing her head to droop. "I didn't expect… well, you know?"

There was a long, tense silence before Harry answered. "I don't expect you to understand nor do I expect you to be perfect, but never assume anything about anybody. There are things… things that you don't understand."

Daphne nodded, understanding his meaning without issue. "Do you… I don't know, want to talk about it?"

"Absolutely not." Harry answered with authority as he peered at her robes. "My wand, Daphne?"

She hesitated for only a second. "You're not going to curse me if I give it back to you, are you?"

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "No, I'm not going to curse you, but if I don't have a way to use magic… if I don't have a way to get some control, I'm going to lose it."

Daphne nodded mutely, withdrawing her wand and holding it out to him, handle first. The moment Harry's fingers closed around the handle, a sigh of contentment escaped his lips and the remaining tension seemed to leave in unison with his breath. His legs shook a bit as he stood to his feet, though one would not have noticed if they did not know to look. He closed his eyes one final time and took three long, deep breaths before he opened them again. "I need to go." He told Daphne. "If I stay in this room…" he allowed his voice to trail off; he did not need to finish.

"Are we…" Daphne did not know how to finish that though either, "are we… ok?"

Harry took in another, long, deep breath, this one more calm, far less shaky. "We're ok," he answered after a long, tense pause, "but I really need to not be in a room with you right now."

Daphne nodded, relying on her own Occlumency to keep her emotions under control as Harry strode out of the room without a backwards glance. As he disappeared out of sight, Daphne let out a shuddery breath, one that she had not known she was holding. Daphne knew him, she knew he would not lie to her. Their friendship was not over, and he would get a hold of her when he was ready, but what she had just inadvertently done to one of her only friends absolutely tore her apart inside. As she left the room she wiped away the signs of weakness from her face. She did still have a rather dignified visage but for once, that visage had cracked and very nearly crumbled as a result of the all consuming pressure that it had been put under.

November 5th 1992.

The Library.

8:24 PM.

Ginny sighed with relief as usual when her and Hermione finished their typical Thursday night Potions revision. Her brewing ability had improved astronomically with the help of Hermione and Tom. Both of them had been integral parts of her success so far and by now, she was one of, if not the best Potioneer in their class. If Ginny was being honest with herself, that fact rather amused her, if only because it made Snape positively bitter. Then again, Ginny had not felt a whole lot of amusement as of late. She had not been sleeping well lately. She always woke up to weird dreams that she could never remember and it often felt as if she had been up all night and not slept at all. Tom had assured her that the same thing had happened to him during his first year at Hogwarts. He said it was perfectly normal and that it was simply the stress of a new environment setting in. To Ginny, that made perfect sense.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked, bringing the smaller red-head out of her musings as she blinked several times before focusing on Hermione. That was another thing, Ginny had been spacing out a lot lately. She found it really difficult to focus anywhere but remarkably, she still had no problems remembering everything that was said in class. As a matter of fact, she had never realized her memory was so sharp.

"Hmm?" She hummed by way of an answer.

"Do you think you could help me with something?" This got Ginny's attention. It had always been Hermione helping her with everything or, at the very most, them helping each other. Oddly, Ginny had the seemingly out of place impulse to flatly deny Hermione. After all, Hermione was here to help Ginny and to help Ginny only. She blinked; it was not the first time this year odd, uncharacteristic thoughts like that one had made themselves present, but Ginny still found the phenomenon odd.

"With what?" She asked quietly, focusing her full attention on Hermione.

"Well, Professor Binns told us about the Chamber of Secrets yesterday and I was wondering if you could help me do some research?" Oddly, Ginny felt a sudden surge of fear and anger but she quelled it. Tom had also explained to her the mysteries of puberty. He had told her that was likely why she was experiencing all of these odd, random emotions and Ginny had taken that at face value. As such, she figured this was just another one of those occasions, so she ignored it and focused.

"Um… sure, Hermione. Where do we start?"

Hermione beamed. "I thought you could start with some of the older history books and maybe look for references to Salazar Slytherin or the Chamber of Secrets. I'm going to look at some ancestry records and see if I can find anything out about his possible Heirs and Heiresses."

November 7th 1992.

The Quidditch Pitch.

9:03 AM.

Harry marvelled at the positively perfect conditions for the opening Quidditch match of the season as he and his six teammates squared off with the Slytherin team at the center of the pitch. He was rather nervous, as was normal for him before each match but this year, he noticed that he did feel significantly more confident than the year previous. He knew what he was capable of now, and he knew that his team was one of, if not the best at Hogwarts. In saying that, he could not pretend his heart did not speed up at least a little bit when his sharp green eyes rested upon the seven perfect racing brooms wielded by the Slytherin team.

Now more than ever, Harry was grateful for Neville and Augusta's gift. If not for it, he would be a lot more nervous to fly against this squad. At the thought of Augusta, his sharp eyes sought her out in the crowd and he found her without issue. She was sitting with Neville and Dean. Ron was on the pitch with the team. As a reserve, he would wait on the sidelines in case he was needed. Harry and Augusta had traded letters frequently since the beginning of the school year, as the older woman had also done with her grandson. Harry hadn't exactly explained the fiasco at Halloween in his last letter, but he had hinted that things were happening at Hogwarts once more and it would be best if they could speak about it as soon as possible. In response, Augusta had told Harry she would be at the match. She had wanted to watch him play anyway, she had said, so the need to speak was merely an apt excuse to attend.

All thoughts of Augusta, Neville and the Chamber of Secrets were washed away as soon as Madam Hooch blew the whistle and Harry shot into the air faster than any of his scarlet robed companions, revelling in the feeling of the wind whipping his well worn Quidditch robes around him.

Immediately, Harry shot towards the quaffle and snatched it out of the air. They had discussed strategies to best exploit his broom. Angelina was currently using his old Nimbus 2000, so she would at least also be on a state of the art broom. Harry quickly dodged a beater and weaved between two chasers but before he could do anymore, a bludger whistled towards him and he had to pass the quaffle off to a streaking Angelina and dive out of the way of the bludger. When he made to pull out of said dive, Harry's eyes widened with shock and bewilderment when it became evident the bludger had followed him. Harry flew straight towards it, performing a perfect sloth grip roll at the last second and allowing it to streak through empty air.

He turned, intent on rejoining the play when it sailed towards him again and this time, he dodged right. "Oi! Terrors!" Harry called, drawing the attention of the Weasley twins as he dodged the bludger again. With a nod, George flew towards him. Harry flew towards him as well and to those in the crowd, it looked as if the two teammates may collide but at the last second, Harry jerked his broom to the side, missing George by mere inches as the beater slammed his bat against the bludger.

Finally gifted with a reprieve, Harry swooped up from underneath the chasers and broke up a Slytherin offensive play. With the quaffle in hand, he made to fly up the pitch when he heard the unmissable sound of the same bludger. Again, he passed the quaffle, visibly and internally frustrated now as he dove again to dodge it. Harry did not claim to be the most knowledgeable on the field about the inner workings of Quidditch. In saying that, he knew that a bludger was most definitely not designed with the intent of targeting one player or position. As far as he could tell, the seemingly rogue bludger had not made one move towards anybody else the entire match and that fact was leaving him baffled, bamboozled and annoyed.

Five minutes later, each second of which Harry had spent dodging for his life, a timeout was called and Harry landed on the pitch with the rest of his team. As soon as he did so, Fred had to leap in front of him, wrestling the rogue bludger to the ground as it made wild attempts to behead the Gryffindor seeker.

"What the hell is going on?" Asked a very annoyed looking Oliver Wood. "Harry, why aren't you jumping into the play? It's our best weapon." His eyes focused on George. "Speaking of weapons, what the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to keep our best weapon alive, Oli." George said, gesturing to his brother, who was still struggling to pin the rambunctious bludger to the ground. "Someone's jinxed the bludger. I've been watching it all game and it's chased Harry no matter what he's done. I haven't seen it take a go at anybody else the whole match."

Silence followed George's statement, silence that was only broken by Fred's grunts of exertion and the ravenous crowd.

"What's the score?" Harry asked, not having been able to keep up with it during his wild game of tag with the bludger.

"We're down by fifty." Wood said bitterly. "Those brooms are blurs and without you jumping into the play…" he shook his head.

"We should forfeit." Alicia said reasonably. "We shouldn't risk Harry getting hurt and if he can't catch the snitch, we're doomed either way. At least if we give it up now, we've only lost by fifty."

"We are not forfeiting!" Fred bit back defiantly from the ground.

"What do you think, Harry?" Katie asked him. He was caught a bit off guard by the question but after a second or so of pause, his features hardened into the perfect image of resoluteness.

"I can catch the snitch as long as George leaves me alone. I don't have any room with him-"

"Don't be thick!" George argued. "That damn bludger will kill you."

"I can fend for myself, George." Harry looked at Oliver. "Tell him to leave it alone and continue the match." Immediately, much of his team protested and Angelina rounded on Wood, mocking his voice.

"Catch the snitch or die trying. What a stupid thing to tell him!"

Oliver looked from his angry chasers to his hardened and determined seeker. "You're sure about this, Harry?" He asked resignedly.

"Positive." Harry assured him, jaw set, eyes blazing. "I can catch the snitch and I can deal with the bludger. Don't forfeit; I have a plan."

Madam Hooch took that moment to march over to the Gryffindor team. "Are you ready to resume the game?" She asked pointedly.

Oliver looked from Harry, to George, to his chasers to Madam Hooch and nodded. "Yes ma'am, let's go." Before they all took to the air, Wood rested a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have ten minutes, Harry. If you don't catch the snitch by then, I'm calling it. Angelina's right; I cared more about Quidditch last year. I'm letting this go only because I believe in you and because you asked for it, but I'm not going to let the bludger go at you all day. Eventually, you'll make a mistake." Harry nodded; they both knew it was inevitable, there was no point arguing.

This time, when the whistle blew, Harry did not bother darting into the play. Instead, he shot straight up, hovering far, far above the main game as he dodged, weaved, twirled and inverted to dodge the bludger. The whole time, his eyes roamed the stadium for any sign of gold. When he saw the Slytherins reclaim the quaffle and make their way up the pitch, Harry dove straight towards them, the bludger hot on his tail. Not only did he slice through their play, but the rogue bludger slammed hard into Flint's shoulder, nearly knocking him off of his broom before pelting back at Harry, who was already arching back into the air. For the first time, Harry smiled. The bludger could hunt him all it wanted but if he led the damned thing through an obstacle course, it couldn't exactly pick favourites. In saying so, he had to do this sparingly, because he also didn't want to lead it into the path of a teammate.

He pulled the feat off a few more times before Malfoy, to his credit, realized his ploy. Now, every time Harry tried to dive, Malfoy would swerve in front of him. Harry tried once more and yet again he was blocked. He let out a growl of frustration as he began to dodge the bludger again and Malfoy began to taunt him. It was right as Draco made a remark about ballet that Harry saw it. The snitch was hovering just beside Malfoy's ear and the only reason the Slytherin seeker had not snatched it already was because he was too fixated on his rivals death defying dilemma.

With a hard look, Harry shot straight towards Malfoy, something that caused the blonde's eyes to widen comically. Anticipating Harry's plan as weaponizing the bludger against him, Draco dove straight out of the way — and straight away from the snitch. With a wild snatch, Harry had the snitch in hand, but he did not stop. He knew from the timeout that the bludger wouldn't stop for the end of the match and he did not want to endanger anybody else as he was sure Gryffindor house would surge onto the field. As a result, Harry pointed his broom straight upwards and shot skyward, ignoring Lee Jordan's confused commentary as he climbed higher and higher and higher, vanishing completely from the spectators sight as the bludger stayed persistently on his tail.

When the air began to thin and breathing started becoming more taxing than natural, Harry inverted his broom at a terrifying rate and shot vertically towards the ground far, far below him like a suicidal javelin. The bludger was whistling behind him but it could not quite catch the fastest broom in the world as they raced towards the ground at death defying speeds. The crowd gasped as Harry, who had built up so much speed he was nothing more than an indistinguishable blur shot towards the ground. The ground was closing faster than Harry had ever seen it do before and he knew that now, he had to pull this off perfectly.

A bit earlier than he would normally, Harry pulled up as hard as he possibly could while maintaining his grip on the still struggling golden snitch. It turned out his timing was perfect, as his feet skimmed the ground and the bludger just sailed past him. Unlike Harry, the ball could not turn nearly as fast and with a resounding explosion that shook the stadium and threw Harry and his remarkably still intact broom violently through the air, the bludger slammed into the ground. When the moment of weightlessness gave way to a crushing pain and a shortage of breath, Harry knew he had landed hard and when the only arm he could lift was the one containing the golden snitch, he knew he was hurt.

With that being said, it did not diminish the ecstasy he felt as the whole of Gryffindor house poured onto the pitch and when Oliver Wood offered him a hand up, Harry quickly passed his captain the snitch before taking it with his good hand, ignoring his waning vision as his eyes sought out his friends and pseudo family.

Author's Endnote:

Seeing as the last chapter ended on such a miserable, ominous note, I decided to end this one more positively.

I am very nervous for how the Harry/Daphne scene went over. I am partially nervous that I have overdone it, but those who have read it seem to disagree and I think those who better understand Harry's situation will be satisfied with the scene.

Also, I did not forget about Lockhart. This variation of Lockhart is not foolish enough to offer to heal Harry when he is incapable of doing so. His character will be fleshed out in time. Finally, Daphne whispered her spell, she did not cast silently.

Dobby's back next chapter, so you have that to look forward to xD

Please read and review.

PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, May 10th at approximately 3:00 PM EST.