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, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story.

Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.

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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 16: The Final Pawn.

January 9, 1993.

The Grounds of Hogwarts.

9:37 AM.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team were left cursing the name of Oliver Wood as they landed on the pitch to conclude a particularly brutal early morning session the Saturday after their return to Hogwarts. For one thing, the wind and the cold had been nothing short of brutal. For another, they had all been in the dressing room at 5:45 and out on the pitch at 6:30. The fact that it was still pitch black outside in the dead of winter at such a time had not perturbed their captain in the least. Nor, apparently, had the following three hours in these brutal conditions. He spent every last second of it drilling his team ruthlessly, and contrary to being bothered, the rest of the team got the distinct impression that the psychopath actually enjoyed it. Hell, Harry hadn't even had time to get his morning workout in. He would have to sneak onto the grounds that night with Neville under the cloak to do it.

Speaking of Neville, he was one of the few students brave enough, or, as Harry liked to think of it, foolish enough to brave the brutality of Mother Nature to watch the Gryffindor team practice. Indeed, not even Ron and Dean had followed his example this morning. Parvati had, however, which presented Harry with an ideal opportunity to broach a subject with her he had not had the chance to bring up thus far since their return to the ancient castle.

"Great flying, Harry!" Parvati said brightly when she and Neville caught up with him.

He mostly beat his blush as he smiled a bit sheepishly back at her. "Thanks, Parvati. Had a nice Christmas?"

She nodded eagerly. "It was very nice, yes. Me and my family go back to India over the Yuletide break each year." Harry imagined that she was going to go on but she paused. Obviously, she felt insensitive talking about her family in front of Harry. Honestly, Harry was always rather miffed about that whole thing. He understood that people thought it insensitive, but seriously? It's not like it was their fault Voldemort had decided to off his parents. It was he who Harry hated. As long as people didn't try to ask about his parents, or anything else that was directly offensive in context, he didn't understand why they shouldn't be able to talk about their own families. "How was your holiday?" Parvati asked Harry and Neville, bringing the former back out of his own thoughts.

"Busy, but it was a nice break." Harry answered honestly, if vaguely. He caught Neville's eye out of the corner of his own and he was fairly confident the other boy was doing his best not to grin at the remark. Neville had been on him about Gabrielle ever since the Flamel Ball. Harry hadn't even told him much, just that he had sort of partnered with an older Beauxbatons girl named Gabrielle. Neville seemed to find it intensely amusing to taunt Harry about it. Harry was still trying to find something to counter with, but when he did…

"That's always nice." Parvati was saying. "I think a break is exactly what you needed."

Harry sighed. "Probably, but not a whole lot has changed around here. Everybody still thinks I'm the next dark lord because I can talk to snakes."

Parvati scowled. "Just ignore them, Harry; they're being stupid. They'll all come around when whoever's behind it gets caught."

"I hope that happens soon." Neville muttered. "This can't go on for too much longer."

It was true. Even Augusta was growing concerned. She had not yet mentioned any intentions to pull the two of them from Hogwarts, but Harry thought that if the attacks continued for an extended period of time, that nightmare was a possibility. Not that she technically had the authority to pull him from Hogwarts, but he would never abandon the only family he'd ever known. And this was Augusta. When it came to being lenient about things like this, she was probably at the top of the list. After all, she was quite literally encouraging both Harry and Neville to train to one day face a dark lord. And that was just in terms of politics. Harry could only imagine who would be next if the petrifications continued.

"I'm sure it will." Parvati said matter of factly. "If anybody can catch them, surely it's Dumbledore."

"I hope you're right." Harry sighed, though he was starting to grow doubtful that Dumbledore could fix this. Either way, the conversation had grown a bit grim for his liking and he had other thoughts on his mind. "Hey, Parvati, I've been meaning to talk to you since Christmas. Thanks for the gift. It was… a lot more than I expected. I feel kind of bad that I didn't get you something nearly as impressive."

Parvati just waved him off. "Don't be silly, Harry. I didn't get you something nice because I wanted something nice in return. That would kind of defeat the point of giving gifts, wouldn't it?"

"I guess, but still…" before she could persist, Harry finally decided to get to the topic that had been on his mind ever since he saw her. "I started reading the book you sent me last Christmas — you know, the one in our first year."

Parvati beamed. "That's good to hear! What do you think of it?"

"It's… surprisingly really interesting. I'm a bit confused about something, though. I appreciate it and all, and it's a good read, but you seemed… like you really wanted me to read it. Again, it's a good read, but… why was it so important that I read the book?" Neville was giving him a questioning look. Harry hadn't shown him the book on Apaurusheya yet. Harry returned Neville's stare with his best "I'll tell you later look", an expression that he had pretty much mastered at this point as he awaited Parvati's answer.

To Harry's surprise, Parvati seemed… guarded. "I thought you'd enjoy it." She said with a shrug. "I've also always been… interested in those stories. I've always wondered if there's anything more to them, you know?" She shrugged again before glancing up to the castle. "Well, it's been great talking to you, Harry, Neville, but I've gotta run. I promised Lavender I'd meet her in the hall after your guys' practice." Harry's eyes narrowed as he reviewed Parvati's words as his eyes followed her ascent up to the castle. Something about that seemed… fishy.

"What's up with her lately?" Ron asked, catching up to them with his brothers. Evidently, the three Weasleys had been trailing them.

Harry shrugged. "We sort of… became friends a while back, I guess. Honestly, I'm not really sure how it happened."

"What's that?" Fred mocked with a wicked grin. "Ickle Harrikins has a girlfriend!"

"How wonderfully scandalous!" George continued.

Harry just sighed. "I'd probably be worried if the school didn't think I was the Heir of Slytherin. Honestly, if you lot want to spread that rumour around to try and distract the rest of the school, be my guest."

Neville smirked. "We could always tell that French friend of yours. I'm sure she wouldn't be happy."

Harry rolled his eyes, burying his face in his hands as he tried not to blush. "I doubt she'd care." Harry told Neville exasperatedly. "We met one damn time, Neville. Besides, she's older than me and out of my league. Not to mention that we live in different countries and are FRIENDS. At least, I think we are."

"Who's this French witch?" Ron asked, bemused.

"Good question, little brother." Fred commended.

"He does seem quite defensive." George pointed out.

"Too defensive, honestly." Fred agreed.

Harry just sighed. Now even more people were going to tease him about something utterly ridiculous and make a big thing out of nothing. Well, he supposed that if it distracted him from the universal hatred of the rest of Hogwarts, it couldn't be too bad, right?

January 27, 1993.

An Abandoned Classroom.

8:47 PM.

If Harry had held out any hope that the school might relent in their persistent scorning of him, he would have been sadly disappointed. The attempted ambushes and bumps in the halls did not lessen in the slightest. In fact, they only grew in numbers as the weeks went on and the supposed "Heir of Slytherin" remained at large. Another reason they became more frequent, however, was because no matter how hard the assailants tried, they could never actually find Harry, let alone ambush him.

The map from the twins had thus far been invaluable. It was essentially a free pass through the halls. Harry took a certain amount of cynical amusement in watching the dotted figures on the map congregate and very obviously set up an ambush, so for assurance, he avoided it by several floors. He could tell that it was annoying many of the castle's occupants to no end, but it had been an absolute saving grace for him. Mind you, just because he was physically spared did not mean that he was mentally spared. The dirty looks in classes, the muttering in the hall, the hatred dripping from every pore of seemingly every Hufflepuff student, plus a fair number of the remaining student body, was all weighing heavily on Harry.

In many ways, his life of isolation with the Dursleys should have made it easier, or so one would think. In actuality, that only amplified the dark, depressing feeling brought on by the scorn of the school. It reminded him far too painfully of a time he had tried so very hard to forget. And it was made all the more dreadful by the fact that in spite of himself, Harry had become somewhat accustomed to the support of most of the school. He had worked hard not to be the outcast anymore. He knew he was not universally liked, but the respect of his peers was something he cherished after so many years of scorn. And because of all of this, the behaviour of most of the student body weighed heavy on his shoulders.

He was thankful for Ron, Dean and Neville above all others. They had served as a shield against much of the vitriol thrown Harry's way. The Gryffindor Quidditch team too, and of course, the Weasley twins in particular. Harry would have to find a way to repay the twins when this was hopefully all over. Hell, even Parvati had been a great friend over the past number of weeks. She was still oddly skittish any time the topic of Apaurusheya arose, but Harry's friendship with the pretty, dark-haired girl had taken another step forward in his own estimation.

But still, it wasn't enough to block out the darkness that seemed to close on Harry as the rest of the school persisted in their witch hunt. He wished he could just magically make it all go away, but he knew that such things were not possible.

Another person he was thankful for was the very person he was locked up in an abandoned classroom with now — Daphne. She had actually suggested a week earlier that Harry simply swear a magical oath in front of the entire school regarding the fact that he was not the Heir of Slytherin. At first, Harry had thought the idea had some merit, but when he had brought the idea up to Dumbledore, he realized how implausible it really was.

"Heir" was too vague a term, yet it would have to be used since it was what this mysterious enemy had chosen to go by. "Heir", could of course refer to the next Lord of the family, or the last descendent, if one preferred. However, in the case of Slytherin, it could mean a number of other things, as well. In the case of Harry, he was, in a twisted way, a metaphorical Heir of Slytherin due to his Parseltongue ability. Even if it wasn't a blood connection, the oath could still interpret that as being an "Heir of Slytherin".

That was what Dumbledore had explained about oaths. There was a reason they were largely out of fashion and not even admissible in a court of law. Oaths relied on magic to correctly interpret the information. And, on top of that, it relied on the person's wording to not knowingly misguide magic to accept an oath that was not quite as cut and dry as many might think. The example that Dumbledore had used was swearing to tell the truth. Magic couldn't force you to tell the truth. It could only force you to say what you believed to be the truth. Hell, if you were a Master Occlumens, according to Dumbledore, you could even manipulate your own perception of the truth while swearing the oath, and blatantly lie. But yet, in the case of this "Heir of Slytherin" the term was just too open-ended, so it would likely work in reverse. Magic would be the judge, since Harry could not possibly know for certain all of the answers to every possible application of the word "Heir".

It had seemed like such a simple and elegant solution but in reality, it had been wholly and completely implausible.

Still, Harry was grateful for Daphne. Grateful for her company and comfort, and grateful for the fact that she cared. He was also grateful for her knowledge of Ancient Runes, even more so in this moment, as the two of them concluded another night of Daphne lecturing him on the subject. He had proven a remarkably quick study and according to Daphne, he had almost learned the essential basic Runic languages. Very soon, he would be able to get more into their application and actually start using them, something he was quite excited for, if truth be told.

He had also worked quite a bit on the other major third year elective, Arithmancy. He had put it to the side for quite some time, especially since he had already mastered most of the third year curriculum, since the first year was mostly just an introduction to the necessary mathematical principles. But his interest in the subject had resurfaced for two main reasons. The first of which, was that in his notes on Transfiguration, which had proven astoundingly useful over the past month, Dumbledore often spoke about Arithmancy. And the second, because no matter how hard he tried, Harry could not seem to get the bone-breaker to work. In an effort to remedy that problem, he had searched up the Arithmetic equation for the curse. Frankly, it had been so far beyond him that he immediately realized he would have to learn a lot more about the subject before he would be analyzing spells like that, hence his sudden interest in the subject itself.

Thankfully, his practices in Transfiguration had gone much better. He was already almost completely finished with the fourth year curriculum, and he honestly thought that completing the fifth year's by the end of the year wasn't impossible. It would have been more than impossible before, but Dumbledore's notes on the subject were invaluable. As great as McGonagall was, Dumbledore's notes had been the single greatest learning tool he had ever been given in the art of Transfiguration.

But tonight had been about Ancient Runes and as usual, his head was left reeling.

"I don't understand how you got so far ahead in this subject when it's not even taught until third year." Harry said as he rubbed at his temples.

Daphne just arched a brow. "Does hypocrisy leave a bitter aftertaste?" She asked with a smirk. "How far ahead are you in Transfiguration, Charms and Defense?"

"Touche, I guess."

"I just always found Runes interesting. I started learning them not too long after Potions. I'm nowhere near as good with them as I am at brewing, but I still managed to get fairly good at them." Harry could hear the poorly masked pride in her voice. He would not go as far as to call Daphne egotistical, but she certainly rode the line. "You look tired." She observed. "Stressed, too."

He sighed. "I just need all of this Heir of Slytherin nonsense to blow over. Honestly, it's exhausting and a bit depressing. I wish I could just swear an oath, like you said."

"Maybe not the 'Heir of Slytherin oath', but could you not just swear you're not the one petrifying people?"

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore thought it was some kind of creature, so technically, it wouldn't really prove a whole lot.

Daphne sighed. "What is it that bothers you most?" She asked, surprising Harry with the fairly sentimental question.

"Um… I guess just feeling scorned, again. Feeling like I only have a few friends in the castle." He hesitated; perhaps the one good thing about Daphne finding out more about his past than he was comfortable with was that he could talk more openly with her. "I… don't like feeling isolated, too many bad memories."

Daphne nodded. "Well, would meeting a new friend help with that?"

Harry blinked. "New friend?"

"Tracey's been dying to meet you for ages. I just kept pushing it back and back, but if you're feeling isolated, maybe making a new friend might help." It was perhaps the most sentimental thing Daphne had ever said, but privately, Harry thought it might indeed be helpful.

"It… might, I guess."

Daphne smiled. "That's perfect, then. Hopefully, it'll make at least a small difference for you, and it should get Tracey off my back about the whole thing." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, she's more persistent than Lockhart is incompetent."

Harry laughed. "Are you sure that's possible?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Positive, Harry — positive."

January 29, 1993.

Severus Snape's Personal Quarters.

10:32 PM.

Severus knocked back yet another headache relief potion with a wince. Honestly, it was absurd the number of those he had drunk in the past number of weeks. For whatever reason, usually after classes, Severus had been experiencing rather horrific headaches. More worrying, for Severus, at least, was the fact that his potions did not seem to do much more than delay them, or lessen the effects.

Indeed, even now, on a Friday night when he wished to do nothing more than laze back and enjoy the end of his obligations for the week, Severus was haunted by a pounding, persistent headache. Speaking of persistence, that was yet another thing that had been troubling him a great deal.

Ever since the students' return at the end of the Christmas Holidays, Severus had not been able to shake the oddest, most out of place feeling. Whatever would bring on such a feeling, Severus had no idea. But try as he might, he could not evade it. Not even his Occlumency had managed to suppress it, something that had thoroughly baffled the Master Occlumens.

That should have been fundamentally impossible.

It was as if whenever Severus tried to suppress the feeling with Occlumency, it just slipped through the cracks. Or, it was as if his Occlumency was subconsciously choosing not to suppress the emotion. It was as if it was a warning of some kind.

But Severus could not think of what his Occlumency could possibly be warning him about.

Unless…

He could not see how on earth anyone would have somehow breached his defenses, for he was quite certain none in the castle were capable of it.

But still… Severus could think of no other explanation.

Taking a long, deep, calming breath, Snape turned his attention inwards, examining his inner self and mind with a near impossible amount of precision and efficiency. In saying that, it was not an easy task. Well, turning one's Occlumency inwards wasn't truly difficult, but to do so with the thoroughness that Severus Snape was using was truly masterful. There were perhaps a handful of living souls who could hope to replicate the feat.

It was very lucky for Severus Snape that he was so prodigious in the art of Occlumency. If he was not, if he was any less gifted, he may have missed it.

It was so… subtle. A chink in Snape's mental armour, one might think. In fact, any less skilled or less well-educated in the art of mind magics may very well have thought so. Even Severus, for all of his natural talents and learned abilities with the art of Occlumency nearly overlooked it. Then, he realized that something was indeed wrong. At first, Severus thought it a mere lapse in his own defenses, perhaps due to him diverting his attention to this form of Occlumency. But then, he realized that was not the case.

But still… Severus had never seen anything like this before. His mind hadn't been breached, per se. His shields were perfectly functional, and there was no active force trying to control him like the Imperius curse that was causing his shields to falter.

Then, with shock and horror, Snape realized what was wrong.

His shields were not damaged at all. As a matter of fact, they were perfectly in place. The problem was that a small, nearly imperceptible corner of his mind was shielded not by his own Occlumency, but by the magic of another, unidentifiable source.

Snape's pulse began to quicken as his brain began to piece the puzzle together. There was very little written on this subject, so much of the theory that Severus was applying was guesswork on his own part. In saying that, he was fairly certain he had correctly identified the cause of the problem.

That, unfortunately, did not necessarily mean he was equipped to solve it.

After all, there were so few Occlumens out there who had the ability to detect alterations of their memories at all. With that in mind, it really wasn't a surprise that there was very little, if any, reliable reading material on the subject.

Severus could only trust in his own ability, and hoped very much that what he thought would break the memory lock wouldn't kill him, cause his shields to self-implode, or drive him completely insane in the process.

This would take a rather absurd amount of precision. And that was assuming that it would even work in the first place.

All of this flashed through Snape's mind in a matter of seconds before he forcefully withdrew from himself. Then, in a flash, his wand was in his grip and less than a second later, as he took only time to ensure his silencing charms on his quarters were fully functional, Snape had his wand aimed at his own forehead.

"LEGILIMENS!"

January 30, 1993.

The Great Hall.

8:54 AM.

Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville stood as they finished the final scraps of what had served as their morning meals. Well, more specifically, Dean, Ron and Neville finished their meals. Harry had been done for quite some time. Normally, he would expect that Ron would be the last one eating, but lately, Neville had perhaps outdone even Ron.

Every morning since the fact had been brought up by Augusta, Neville had joined Harry on his early morning workouts. Now, about a month into the regiment, Neville was no longer complaining about the agonizing soreness wrought by the workouts on a daily basis. But still, he ate like he had been the victim of an intense famine after each and every workout. In spite of that fact, Harry could already begin to see the changes in his best friend. True, Neville did not suddenly look like a born athlete. He was beginning to lose much of the body fat that he had worn for most of his first two years at Hogwarts though. His face was beginning to thin, and suddenly, the ever present pudge that one may have associated with Neville Longbottom was slowly starting to fade.

This morning was not like any other though.

Well, it seemed to be until the Gryffindor quartet began to exit the hall, barely noticing that they were being trailed by Parvati and Lavender. The occurrences that made this day not so normal were threefold.

The first, and, in the short term, most significant of them made itself rather obvious when from behind Parvati and Lavender, strode the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He walked at a brisk pace, catching up to, and even passing the second year Gryffindor boys as he purposefully climbed the marble staircase.

That's what most of the onlookers saw, anyways.

For one Harry Potter, the occurrence was a bit different. He, unlike his three friends, Parvati, Lavender, and any other onlookers, had not failed to notice the way that Dumbledore had subtly caught his eye, nor the fact that not only was the usual twinkle behind the Headmaster's eye absent, but that there was a startling intensity in its place. The other component of the event that stuck out to Harry and nobody else was the fact that he and he alone received the telepathic message that Dumbledore had used to get his attention. Luckily in this instance, Harry's Occlumency was not yet so advanced that he could pick up Dumbledore's more subtle probes.

'My office… as soon as possible.'

Harry had simply nodded minutely as he accompanied his friends up to the common room. From there, he would slip off under his invisibility cloak, but it would not do to make such an obvious scene, least of all when most of the school still thought him the infamous Heir of Slytherin.

The other two occurrences that made this morning slightly different than any other were more subtle, and closely linked with one another.

The first was something that Harry, his friends, and most of the hall had noticed with vague curiosity but nothing beyond that. Snape was not present at the staff table. It was hardly the first time that this had ever happened on a Saturday morning but though it was not a first, it was a rarity.

The third thing that was not so normal that morning, something that nobody at all noticed was the cold, calculating stare worn by one Ginny Weasley when she noticed the absence of the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Something about that did not sit right with her.

Ten minutes later, in the Headmaster's Office...

Harry removed his cloak just as he strode through the open oak door leading into Dumbledore's office. As soon as he did so, the door swung shut behind him of his own accord and Dumbledore looked up. The look in the old man's eyes immediately betrayed the seriousness of the situation.

Harry was unsure if he had ever seen him look so intense.

"Ah, Harry; very good. Between the two of us, I am rather glad, on this occasion, that your Occlumency is not too advanced for me to slip a rather subtle message through."

Harry didn't respond to that comment. Perhaps it was convenient, but Harry certainly wished that his Occlumency was top notch. Instead of responding directly, Harry took his seat across from Dumbledore and decided to skip the niceties.

"Is everything alright, Professor? You look…" he trailed off, not quite knowing how to finish the statement.

"Stressed?" Dumbledore offered. "Strained? Tired? Worried?" Harry nodded apprehensively. "The truth, Harry, is that I am all of those things in great quantities, for everything is, most unfortunately, I might add, not alright."

"What's happened, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I would ask, much like I have done on a number of previous occasions, that this information does not leave this office. It will undoubtedly be made privy, at least in part, to the school at large at some point soon. Until that time comes, however, I would like to stay ahead of the situation."

Harry nodded grimly. Whatever was the matter at hand, it was clearly bad. It had to be if it had Dumbledore this worried, stressed, and strained.

"This morning, Professor Snape was found in his office, unmoving and unresponsive."

Harry gasped. "He's not… not-"

"No, he is not dead, nor is he petrified." As much as Harry despised Snape, he let out an audible sigh of relief. He would not condemn any to that fate. Well, Voldemort, perhaps, and potentially Peter Pettigrew if what had been written in his parents' will was true, but none aside from that. Snape may have been a despicable bully, but he did not deserve death, nor petrification.

"What-what happened to him then, sir? Is he okay?"

"Such a complex question, the latter." Dumbledore observed. "To answer the first question, Severus is in a comatose state. Officially, it is unknown what could have caused such a state, as nothing that Madam Pomfrey has tried has had any measure of success in awakening him from his slumber."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "'Officially?'" He asked, drawing air quotes around the word.

In spite of the matter at hand, Dumbledore smiled, if a bit weakly. "Very good, Harry; you are learning. Yes, officially, the cause of this state is unknown. In fact, it is very true that Madam Pomfrey has absolutely no idea what could have caused it, nor how to bring Severus out of it, if such a thing is indeed possible at all."

"But you know?"

"I do not know exactly, but I do have a guess. Between the two of us, my guesses have a funny habit of usually turning out to be correct." When Harry just looked at him expectantly, Dumbledore sighed again. "You see, Madam Pomfrey is a premier healer, one of the best I have ever met. Healers are the most qualified among us to examine any damage, magical or physical, that has been inflicted upon the body." Dumbledore waited for Harry to have an epiphany, but none came. "In Severus's case, his body is completely fine. On the surface, he is the definition of a clean bill of health."

"On the surface?"

"Yes, you see, his body is as strong and healthy as ever. It is my belief, however, that his mind is less so. I… performed a light Legilimency scan of Severus. The results were… troubling. Severus is one of the foremost experts of Occlumency in Magical Britain, if not the Magical World at large. With this fact in mind, it is exceedingly troubling that I could detect almost no presence of Occlumency shields." Harry's eyes widened. One's shields, once developed, did not just disappear.

"You-you think something caused his shields to collapse, sir?" That was another thing. There could be all sorts of short term, and potentially even long term consequences if one's Occlumency shields were to collapse depending on how reliant the person was upon them.

"I am not certain." Dumbledore admitted.

"Take a guess." Harry said, and Dumbledore cracked a weak smile.

"Very well, very well. I do not believe Severus has experienced a true collapse of his shields. I find it more likely that his mental magic is simply… devoted to other matters so important that the maintenance of his shields is simply unimportant by comparison. This theory is further supported by the fact that his mind, though scattered and hectic, remains the picture of control in terms of magic. If his shields had collapsed, his mind would be a panicked web of turmoil."

"But what else could he possibly be using his Occlumency for that would take so much effort?" Harry asked worriedly. He could think of nothing that could possibly take so much energy.

"Again, I can only guess but again, I suspect that I am correct." Harry waited as Dumbledore gathered his thoughts. "You will remember, I am sure, a conversation we had quite some time ago now. It was brought up once more at the Flamel's ball far more recently. A conversation in which we discussed the evils of magic and the true potential of Occlumency?"

Harry nodded, eyes widening. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. Satisfying as it may normally be to be right, Harry had never more hoped to be wrong.

Unfortunately, his worst fears were seemingly confirmed a moment later, causing his heart to skip a beat.

"We spoke of memory charms at great length during that conversation. We spoke of how a very high level Occlumens could potentially counteract the effects of the memory charm."

"So Snape's been memory charmed?"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, yes, Professor Snape's been memory charmed?"

"I believe so, yes."

"But he can counter it, right?"

"Well that is the question, isn't it? There is very little known about the countering of memory charms through the use of Occlumency beyond the fact that it is possible, at least in theory. I know of at least one method that may perhaps work, but it would be… risky, one might say. It would be a sort of combination of Occlumency and Legilimency. You would need to Legilimize your own mind and break the block on your memories. The tricky part would be maintaining control and order in your mind while this happened through the use of Occlumency. I… certainly hope that Severus is capable of succeeding in his venture. Failure would likely lead to some… less than pleasant results if this was his method of choice."

Harry let that sink in. The possibility of Snape being successfully memory charmed within the halls of Hogwarts was terrifying. Who had the power to overpower Snape and perform the charm? And what did that mean for the school at large?

"Do-do you have any idea who might have done it, Professor?"

"Specifically, no; I am afraid I do not. In more vague terms, I am fairly confident in saying that the assailant was the same person who's been writing messages on the walls."

"The Heir of Slytherin." Harry muttered, his heart sinking as the revelation set in.

"Or whoever may be acting in his place, yes." That comment struck Harry as oddly specific. He knew that Dumbledore was limited in what he could say due to Ministry contracts signed fifty years ago, but he was quite certain that in some way, shape or form, that had been a hint.

"Is that why you told me this, sir? Do you still think the Heir of Slytherin is after me?"

"I am certain of it, and it is precisely why I informed you of this. I do not know why the Heir has sought out Severus as a target, but I can think of one possible outcome. I think it likely that Severus, who has always been something of a deductive genius in his own right, deduced something about the Heir's identity or plans that this person or their agent wants buried." Harry nodded; it made sense, but he still was not entirely sure of why he was being informed of this fact, appreciative as he was. "Why I am telling you this, Harry," Dumbledore continued, as if reading Harry's thoughts, "is because I believe that when Severus wakes, for I do believe that if any are capable of it, it is he, the Heir will likely be exceedingly desperate. Desperate people are the most dangerous kind of people. It is likely they will accelerate their plans, and it is my wish that you stay safe during these times."

Harry frowned; he did not like the idea of hiding away, or any other possible ways of "staying safe". "How do you mean, sir?"

"When the time comes, Harry, I will get a message to you. When that message reaches out, I would ask that you please come to my office immediately." Dumbledore fixed him with a hard stare. "While doing so, you will stay concealed under your cloak and head straight to my office with no distractions. Do you understand?" Harry nodded. "Make sure you understand me completely, Harry. If you hear that mysterious voice calling out for blood, you will not chase it?" Harry nodded, if a bit hesitantly. "If you see something you view as a clue, you will not pursue it?" Again, a hesitant nod from Harry. "If you hear another student being attacked nearby, you will not stop to assist them?" Harry hesitated; how could he agree to that. "Your word, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I… promise I won't, unless it's one of my closest friends."

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose that is very likely the best I could have hoped for." He shook his own head as if to clear it. "Well, I will release you to make the most of your time. Stay vigilant and prepared. I have the distinct impression that we are merely experiencing the calm before the storm."

Harry nodded and got to his feet, wondering how much worse things could get before this Heir of Slytherin was caught and dealt with.

February 6, 1993.

The Hospital Wing.

1:54 AM.

Severus Snape sat bolt upright with a gasp typical for one who had escaped a near drowning. His eyes were wide as he looked around the room, trying to best deduce what had transpired. Obviously, his self-Legilimency had taken quite the toll on him, which was not unexpected. He was in the Hospital Wing, which clearly implied that Snape had been out for longer than expected. Though in hindsight, that wasn't entirely surprising.

It had been devilishly difficult to break the memory lock imposed upon him. Worse, it had been even more difficult to deal with the mental backlash of breaking it. Thankfully, not a whole lot had actually been suppressed by the block, or he thought it would have been worse. It was more the actual breaking of the block itself and the magical backlash that had turned his mind into a chaotic hell hole. Really, he could have forced himself awake days ago, but he would have been in no mental state to be productive, and Snape was nothing if not careful when it came to the maintenance of his own mind. He had been reluctantly content to take as much time as it took to piece his mind back together and make sure that it suffered nothing from the results of his little experiment.

As potentially dangerous as it all had been, Snape had far more pressing matters on his hands. Specifically, the problem of one Ginny Weasley, or whoever the hell had been impersonating her. For a first year to be able to cast a memory charm should have been impossible, let alone one as powerful as what he had just had to contend with. But for a first year to have completely neutralized him with what he was sure was some advanced form of wandless magic was unfathomable. That, mixed with her out of this world academic performances, and the ingredients that she had been stealing painted a very vivid puzzle for Snape.

But after that night… Snape actually didn't know how long ago, since he had no idea what day it was, he was not taking any chances. He had felt magic like that which he had dealt with on that night from only one other, and he was a man who Snape could not oppose, at least not alone.

There was only one thing to do about this, and it had to be done at once.

He had to warn Dumbledore.

Holding out his hand, Snape summoned his wand to him. It was one of two wandless spells that he knew of and it had taken him a very long time to figure it out. It had proved invaluable over the years though, so it had all been worth it. Getting to his feet and silencing his footsteps, Snape cast the doppelganger charm and made sure his clone would lay in his bed and wait for him to return. That would stop Poppy from raising an alarm. He could not chance that happening. If whoever was impersonating the Weasley girl caught wind of what was about to happen…

No, he couldn't think about that now. Warn Dumbledore first, then help to neutralize the threat. There was no time for worrying.

Casting a disillusionment charm over himself with well-practiced precision, Snape swept out of the hospital wing and began to creep up towards Dumbledore's office. Every few hallways, he cast the Homenum Revelio charm, but it had thus far come up empty. Granted, he got the scare of his life when, on the sixth floor, he cast it and it revealed a presence, only for said presence to turn out to be Argus Filch.

Finally, Snape reached the seventh floor as his heart began to beat at a rapidly accelerated pace. Just a few more hallways to go, and he could begin to put this threat to bed…

But then, his charm revealed not one, not two, but three human presences, and he stiffened. Carefully creeping towards Dumbledore's office after redoubling the power he put into his disillusionment charm, Snape finally rounded the final corner, and found himself confused, if not worried.

There was only one figure waiting for Snape in the hallway ahead. Rationally, Snape knew he should try and locate the other two, but he was honestly so surprised by what he saw that he had to pause. Slowly, Snape crept towards the figure. Only when he stood right behind him and subtly cast detection wards around himself did he speak.

"What are you doing here, Gilderoy?"

Snape expected the rather jumpy fraud to whirl when he heard a voice, let alone that of somebody who had evidently been out of the picture for at least a number of days. Instead, Lockhart turned his head slowly and met Snape's dark eyed stare with his own, brilliant blue eyes.

"Ah, Severus, awake once more. You're just in time for my plan to unfold!"

Snape's eyes narrowed. Surely the fraud didn't actually think himself capable of catching the Heir of Slytherin like he had claimed all year? "If you are planning on going after the Heir, Gilderoy, I would suggest waiting until I have spoken to the Headmaster."

Lockhart only chuckled in response. "Come on now, Severus, we both know that's not what I meant when I mentioned my 'plan.'"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he cast a glance around the corridor. If anybody so much as moved, he would be instantly aware of it thanks to his wards and he would instantly defend himself. This far, however, nobody had.

Still, Snape had the dreadful feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

That feeling confused him a great deal. After all, he was hardly afraid of Gilderoy Lockhart. In fact, there were a number of students who Snape would be closer to fearing than the pitiful excuse of a Defense Against The Dark Arts professor stood in front of him.

"What exactly are you planning then, Gilderoy?"

Lockhart smiled. "Why, Severus, it would be no fun to reveal the plan, now would it?"

Snape crooked an eyebrow. "You just finished saying that I was just in time to witness its conclusion, did you not?"

"Oh, no, no. I said that you were just in time, but I never said anything about you witnessing its conclusion." Then, Lockhart stepped aside and suddenly, with dread closing around his heart, Snape realized why his back had been to him and why Lockhart had been focused on the wall.

There, several feet to the right of the gargoyle leading up to Dumbledore's office, there were words on the wall written in red writing.

Not even the King of the Snake Pit is safe from the wrath of Slytherin's Heir when they are foolish enough to pose opposition.

"You see, Severus," Lockhart said as Snape had to take a moment to pause and process what was going on, "you're part of the plan, my slippery friend. As a matter of fact, you're the final pawn. With your fall, everything can finally start sliding into place."

Snape snarled as his wand slid into his hand. He could not possibly believe that Lockhart was the Heir of Slytherin, but he was about to strike first and ask questions later.

That was, until his wards were tripped as something came from behind him. He used the word "something" because whatever it was, his wards were telling him it was not human.

Then, Snape pulled out yet another trick of Occlumency as he dilated his perception.

One could not manipulate time, but they could, if sufficiently skilled with mind magic, manipulate their own perception of time. As a result, the world around Severus slowed. Of course, this meant his movements slowed too, but that wasn't the point. He just needed to figure out what was going on. Luckily for him, the torches on the wall cast a shadow and vaguely, he could make out the rough outline of what was sneaking up on him.

A snake…

'Oh, fuck!'

And just like that, it all made sense.

The Heir of Slytherin, armed with a monster that could kill or petrify students? Granted, Snape had absolutely no idea how the unlucky victims of the serpent's gaze had survived thus far, but he could think of only one beast with that ability.

A basilisk.

That unfortunately meant that Severus knew he was completely trapped and outmatched. He had no hope of beating the basilisk in this position, so he simply had to survive. With a thought, Snape opened four additional streams of thought, all of which were promptly used to review each petrification and everything known about it.

At that point, Snape realized the general idea.

They had all seen the thing indirectly.

With that in mind, there was only one thing he could think to do. Unfortunately, that would involve him turning around for if he didn't, the thing would simply bite his head off. He only hoped he was fast enough and that he hadn't taken too long.

Releasing his dilation, Snape whirled with his wand drawn and raised, casting a spell just as he turned to face the hulking serpent. As his vision faded to black, Snape could only hope that he had been fast enough.

Author's Endnote:

Apologies for being a couple hours late. Life happens sometimes XD

As long as it's on the right day, I doubt you guys are too bothered. I know the ending was a bit confusing, but it will all make sense in time.

I did say that the end of this chapter would be the start of the storm, didn't I?

Sorry for spending so much time in this chapter on oaths. I had a reviewer ask why Harry didn't simply swear an oath in front of the hall, and it kind of annoyed me. Not because of the question, just because of the amount of people who just think everything can be fixed with an oath, because some fan fictions aren't written well enough to close the plot holes they create. If you can't tell, oaths are very limited in this story. They work in very specific situations, but they will be utterly useless in others.

Just thought I'd clear that up so hopefully the question doesn't come up in the future.

Also, a shoutout to The Sinister Man's Prince of Slytherin once more since I am again borrowing from its mind arts system with the concept of perceptual dilation.

With that in mind, I hope you're ready for the next few chapters, because they are about to go fast! Also, I am very excited for the chapters after the Chamber fiasco, for I still have several aces up my sleeve to end the year, none of which tie into the traditional canon plot for year 2.

Please read and review.

PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, July 5th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST