Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, Great Britain
"You sure about this, Malfoy?"
Idly rolling the amber liquid within the glass, Lucius Malfoy snapped a blue-eyed stare onto the thin, ragged looking wizard sitting in the armchair opposite him.
"Your wife said-"
"Are you dealing with my wife, or me, Mr. Glover?" Lucius asked quietly, crossing his legs.
Glover rolled his jaw, mulling over the question. "I'm dealing with whoever has the money." Lucius gave him a bland, obvious look, and Glover sighed. "Yeah, yeah alright. Look, it's just your wife gave me the impression that the mining operation in Egypt was the Dark Lord's bidding."
Lord Malfoy smiled faintly, playing with the weathered edge of an old, battered looking diary. "Even if that were remotely true, the Dark Lord is no more."
Glover gave him an intrigued look. "And here I thought you Death Eaters couldn't let go of the past." Lucius didn't offer a reply to that, and so with a grunt, Glover stood. "So be it then. I'll see the excavations closed, but the contract termination is gonna run you something fierce." The man made to leave, before pausing and turning back. "You want the workers offed?"
"Obviously," Lucius drawled dismissively, no longer looking at him.
"Right, right."
The door to the room closed, and Lucius sighed as he stood and walked closer to the fireplace. The flames brightened as he approached, casting shadows across the jaw of the dragon skull mounted above. "Do be on your way," he said to the empty air. "Wait until he's finished with my business, and then make it look like an accident, hmm?"
The air beside the fireplace shifted as a disillusionment spell faded, revealing a slim individual in professionally tailored clothes. A porcelain half-mask, bearing the crest of a silver swan, covered the mercenary's features. He bowed elegantly, before moving off to follow in Glover's tracks.
Lucius watched him leave, and when the door clicked shut, he turned back to the book in his hand. "To think that a dragon had allowed itself to be tamed by a snake." He sneered, looking up at the severed head of Giveon, the Roaming Blizzard.
His ancestors would be far from pleased…
The diary seemed to shudder in his grasp, as if sensing his train of thought. The fire dimmed, the darkness in the corners of the room growing closer as cold whispers crawled up his arm, almost as if spiders had come skittering out from in between the pages.
Open it.
Lucius inhaled slowly, staring at the faded lettering on the spine. His thumb caressed the leather, aching to flip it over.
'Crack!'
Lucius flinched, his hand pulling away from the book as he looked up.
Giveon's maw had fallen open.
Blinking, as if there had been smoke in his eyes, he tossed the diary to the side with shaking hands.
"D-dobby," he called, out of breath.
There was a soft snap, and a rather pathetic looking elf shuffled forward.
"Masters Malfoyses?"
"Take that and destroy it, if you're not capable, then dispose of it in a place unfound." He heard the elf scoop up the diary from the floor behind him. A surge of panic struck him, "With haste, you useless pest!"
Another snap, and the air of the room shifted. He was alone once more.
The flames roared, and the shadows seemed to make Giveon's maw come alive. Lucius just stared into its empty sockets, enraptured.
Reclining in his chair, Draco idly stroked his chin with the feathered end of his quill, face pulled into a frown. He was scanning over haphazardly sketched quidditch formations with icy eyes, shaking his head and muttering insults under his breath. "Urquhart, you bumbling idiot…" he sighed, reaching for his tea. "Vaisey's no good on the defence, he needs to be closer to the bludger release if you want him to perform," the irritated muttering was drowned into the rim of the cup.
Pulling back in distaste from the unpleasantly cold beverage, Draco glanced out of the window, surprised to find that the stars were out. How much time had he spent sitting here fixing Urquhart's daft ideas?
Too much, he decided, tossing his quill onto the desk. He eyed his cold tea, annoyed. "Dobby."
The elf appeared with a crack, and Draco waved towards the cup. "It's gone cold," he informed tiredly.
"D-dobby will fetch a replacement at once young master!"
The elf shuffled forward, and Draco grunted dismissively. "No, just get rid of it." He then paused, seeing the black diary tucked into the crook of Dobby's arm. "What's that?"
Dobby froze, before pulling the book free. "I-he-Masters Malfoy-"
"Let me see," he ordered, extending a hand. He was caught off-guard by the elf's hesitation.
"Masters Malfoyses said… said-"
Curiosity piqued, Draco extended his hand out a little further. "I'll handle it," he assured.
Not sure what to do, Dobby reluctantly held it out, flinching as Draco plucked it from his fingers. "I-it's to be destroyed or disposed of-"
"It will be," Draco replied distractedly, flicking the thing open and frowning upon seeing the empty pages. Invisible ink? He immediately scoffed at the idea, his father wasn't some ten-year old, it was likely heavily charmed or perhaps even cursed. "If father asks, tell him you got rid of it."
"Where?"
"I don't bloody know!" Draco snapped, shooing the creature away. "Tell him it's at the bottom of the ocean or something you boorish gremlin, now get out." The elf disappeared with a 'crack!', and Draco sighed. "Dobby, you forgot the tea for goodness sake."
The elf popped back in, immediately beginning to bash its head against the floor. Draco palmed his face, unequivocally done with the damned creature.
Idiots… idiots everywhere I look.
Astronomy tower, Hogwarts, Scotland, Great Britain
A frozen wind brushed by, ruffling both his hair and the letter in his hands. Harry paid it no mind, eyes transfixed on the elegant French script that he could easily recognise. His brows were furrowed. Without a doubt, he found the language far easier to speak than to read or write.
'-communication will have to be scarce, with everything that's going on. But for emergency's sake, and also the sake of my own sanity, I've had James procure something a little special for you. Consider it a gift from your gorgeous, undead tutor.
She's an Augur Buzzard, sixteen months old. Her designation is Skitterjack-1-4, though I would recommend renaming her to something a little less conspicuous.'
Harry cocked a brow, looking up to regard the sleek, black-feathered bird of prey that was in turn sizing him up with incredibly vibrant golden eyes. The curious intelligence swimming beneath her gaze was decidedly clear.
The bird shuffled a little closer, tucking its wings in against the cold as it craned its neck to peer at him. Harry just snorted softly, allowing the creature its indulgence and returning to the letter.
'No further news for now.'
Harry hummed softly, ignoring the bird as it pulled back from the sudden noise. "Nothing you can safely say in a letter, you mean," he translated under his breath.
'Do me a favour, and try not to be you until things calm down? Trouble seems to be awfully fond of your scent.
A.T'
He couldn't help but bark out a laugh at that. "Oh if you had any idea..."
Harry let out a quiet breath, scanning over the lines several times before eventually looking up and taking in the thousands of glittering gemstones in the firmament above. He let the parchment slip out of his fingers as the next breeze hissed by.
The paper floated in the current, making it about ten meters before a bolt of sizzling orange flame reduced it to ashes.
Stowing his wand, Harry glanced over as… his new 'pet' jumped onto his other arm. It's powerful talons dug into the flesh on his wrist while it's head tracked the glowing wand tip in an almost childlike wonder.
The buzzard then cocked its head at him, her eyes boring into his inquisitively. 'So, you're the new guy?' it almost seemed to say.
Harry sniffed, softly stroking a finger down her slender head. "Aren't you a pretty little lady?" He laughed as the bird suddenly puffed up in apparent pride, craning its head elegantly. It reminded Harry an awful lot of Alessandra. He suddenly pulled back, eyeing the bird with some suspicion.
"You're not an animagus are you?"
The avian cocked its head in question. And Harry shook his head at his own lunacy. Of course it wasn't Alessandra, she wouldn't just sit there and allow him to pet her.
He paused.
Would she?
He offered the bird another suspicious glance. "Well, until I see you two in the same room… I've got my eye on you - Tremblay." The creature was watching him expectantly, as if waiting for something. Clearing his throat, Harry obliged. "Everest, Olympus, Vesuvius, Rainier." Immediately the bird stood straighter at attention. "Reassigning designation: Tremblay."
'Tremblay' cooed softly.
Harry grinned. She's going to be so annoyed when she finds out.
His mischievous joy was interrupted by the flash of lights in the corner of his eye, and looking out over the Black Lake, Harry watched as dozens of little orange lights began to sail slowly across to the castle.
"Firsties…" Harry mumbled. Was it time already?
Scooching Tremblay onto his arm, he walked around the giant telescope that dominated much of the tower's space and looked out over the Forbidden Forest
Sure enough, carriages pulled by Thestrals began to roll up outside the gates and Seventh years began to disembark. Even fewer than last year…
Most students opted to leave after their fifth year, having completed their O. and coming of age. He watched the rest of the students arrive for some time, before eventually stretching out with a yawn and making for the stairs.
His third year of Hogwarts had officially begun.
Hogwarts was asleep no more, evident as the Hat finally finished its annual song and the Great Hall erupted into cheers. Harry was only partly paying attention, although seated with the Slytherin Quidditch team as he usually was, he blended in with his teammates. Most were quietly discussing the changes in team positions with Flint finally 'graduating', whilst the older players were going over their study plans, half listening in to the conversations.
However, Harry's mind was far from either of the subjects. Instead, he was taken by thoughts of Alessandra and her new affliction, of the vampire threat, of the Lost City and Quirrel who had been absent for nearly two whole weeks now. Harry glanced over to the staff tables, finding the Defence Against the Dark Arts post still bereft its professor.
He turned back to the woodgrain of the table, eyeing it with narrowed brows. Yet these mysteries didn't even compare to the most baffling of them all. The most infuriating, the most puzzling… had to be the blasted mirror.
...In that he couldn't damn well find it again.
It's not that he had forgotten the way. He could trace his steps perfectly back to the abandoned cordon of the seventh floor. It's just that the room had simply ceased to exist. In fact, the entire area had seemed to bizarrely shift. Paintings and tapestries had moved and changed positions, and the hallways and rooms all now lead to different areas. Even the bloody furniture and torch sconces had been completely swapped around.
It was as if everything had been entirely rearranged solely to spite him.
On cue, his hand reached into his pocket and brushed against the folded edge of the paper raven. It had almost become a habit, for it was the only thing concrete enough to prove that he hadn't just imagined the entire seque-
"Potter."
Snapped from his thoughts, Harry looked up to find the recently inducted Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Cilian Urquhart, eyeing him from over the rim of his glass.
"McGonnagal's making a beeline for you."
Harry glanced over to find that indeed, McGonnagal was approaching. A soft nudge to his side had him turning to one of the chasers who was giving him a smirk. She was one of the older crew that had managed to keep her position after the complete overhaul of Flint's old, and admittedly pathetic, team.
"School's like, just begun you know?"
"I missed you too, Anastasia," Harry said non committedly, turning away from her cry of protest at the usage of her full name and back to McGonagall. "Professor?"
"Mister Potter," McGonnagall greeted quietly, acutely aware that the table around their vicinity had gone silent as they watched the exchange. "I was wondering if you might know anything related to Professor Quirrel's whereabouts?"
Harry only now realised that the woman looked rather annoyed. Quirrel had probably been ignoring her owls, if he had to guess. Harry shook his head, "No, sorry Professor." He didn't opt to elaborate further as he watched Urquhart and a couple others perk up at the Deputy Headmistress' query. Probably best to keep my apprenticeship quiet, for now.
The curt reply seemed to stump McGonagall. She gave him a somewhat skeptical glance, before humming shortly in apparent resignation. She turned to Urquhart, and Harry tuned out as she pulled the boy from his seat and went to gather the other captains for an impromptu meeting.
Anastasia scooched a little closer to ask a question, though was beaten to the punch.
"What was that about, Potter?"
Harry shrugged, looking over towards Draco who had finally looked up from the small book he had been writing into for the majority of the sorting and opening ceremonies. "She was asking about Quirrel, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Draco didn't look surprised by the news, which in turn didn't surprise Harry. His father likely heard word the moment Dumbledore had secured the position. "Obviously," he drawled. "But why was she asking you?"
"A friend of Ja- my father's," Harry replied dismissively, tapping his fork against his glass and watching as the apple-juice was replaced by a mug of hot coffee.
Draco stared at him for a moment, before grunting and turning back to his book. His acceptance of the answer was apparently enough for everyone else as well, and Harry sighed as the rest of the table lost interest.
Harry couldn't help but inwardly cock a brow at the odd behaviour. Whilst the boy's grades were quite good, Harry hadn't taken him for such an academic. He then glanced down at Delilah's book that was resting to the side of his empty plate, and subsequently snorted at the irony.
"Ugh, another speech?"
His thoughts were interrupted as Anastasia stabbed at the table with her fork petulantly. He didn't need to look to see that Dumbledore was probably gallivanting over to the podium again. Instead, he repaid the favour by nudging the 4th year. "Hear about that study St. Mungo's submitted to the Ministry?" he remarked casually. At her quizzical glance, Harry shrugged. "Something about nightly desserts courses and overindulgence in sugar being detrimental mentally and physically to students."
The sudden look of horror in the Chaser's face was a thing of glory, only faintly marred by a creeping suspicion.
Another voice came to the rescue of Harry's ruse however, chiming in with a low, clipped tone from across the table. "Mhmm, made the second page of the Prophet. Dumbledore supposedly endorsed the thesis and did away the dessert portion entirely."
Not too shabby, Vaisey, Harry appraised inwardly.
"What the bloody hell!?-"
Whatever else Anastasia was about to say was interrupted as the doors to the Great Hall were flung open with a loud 'bang!', just as Dumbledore cleared his throat to speak.
Harry's confusion lasted for perhaps a second, before he promptly turned back around, violently quelling the urge to start laughing.
Quirrel had just busted into the Hall, somehow both sopping wet, and partly on fire.
More importantly, McGonnagall looked about ready to shift into her animagus form and claw the man's eyes out.
"Ah! What perfect timing."
The amplified voice of Dumbledore immediately hushed down the alarmed responses of the students closest to the door. It also had the unintended effect of halting Mcgonnagall who had taken a step towards Quirrel with narrowed eyes. "To start off our announcements - everyone, please welcome your newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirinus Quirrel!"
The customary round of applause was somewhat stilted by the student body's mass confusion, but Quirrel made the best of it nonetheless. Bowing, and nearly setting a nearby student on fire with the smoking end of his turban strands, Quirrel quickly scampered past a furious Transfigurations professor and beelined it for his seat.
His eyes locked with Harry's for a split second, and though the lower half of Quirrel's face was covered by his sand encrusted silk coverings, Harry could tell that he was actively smirking from the upwards crinkle of his eyes.
Looking away, thoroughly amused, Harry found Vaisey eyeing him curiously. The muscular third-year sniffed, glancing at Quirrel, and then back to Harry. "A friend of your father's, you said?"
"Mhmm."
Dumbledore resumed his speech, and Vaisey offered him one last look before shrugging and folding his arms over the table, turning his attention back to the Headmaster. Urquhart chose that moment to return, looking down at the infamous Beater in irritation.
"Sit straight will ya? You're a Slytherin, act like it-"
"Sod off, you lanky twat. I'm sure there's some haggis around here with your shit-for-brains Scottish name on it."
A series of familiar, amused looks were shared between the Quidditch team. Everyone was well acquainted with Vaisey's colourful vocabulary by now. Even Urquhart just sighed and sat back down.
It wasn't long before the feast started, and the tables were suddenly piled high with food. Not feeling particularly peckish, Harry lazily stabbed at a runaway pea on his plate, reading from Delilah's book.
After a while, Harry glanced up to find Vaisey shooting glances between him and Malfoy. He sighed inwardly.
Three… two… on-
"The fuck is with you two?" There it was. "I didn't realise erotica was on the curriculum."
Urquhart chose that moment to pipe in, "Uhh, that aside, you two and Draco should be moving into the Kharybdis den this year." He nodded towards Draco, who had finally put away his little black diary to eat.
Draco sniffed as he cut up his steak, holding a piece up to the light and eyeing the doneness with a critical eye. "Hm, serviceable I suppose…" he muttered, either ignoring or not hearing the two.
Harry rolled his eyes. If he was any less laidback, he'd fall forwards…
Draco finally turned to Urquhart. "Yes, and you'll be moving into the Hydra's ruins, along with Beselt over there," he stated gesturing with his knife towards Anastasia, as if the conversation hadn't already passed. He then frowned at the girl. "You look like someone took a wand to your owl, Beselt."
Anastasia shot Draco a murderous glare, one that made him actually lean back slightly in alarm. "They took the dessert course away!"
Draco's blanched features contorted into a frown, "Excuse me?"
"My. Desserts. Gone."
Harry flinched as Anastasia punctuated each word with a righteous stab of her fork into the table.
Draco shook his head. "Where on earth did you hear that?"
As if on cue, the dinner feast was suddenly replaced as an assortment of spectacular desserts and sweets appeared on gilded silver platters.
Harry and Vaisey shared one look, before simultaneously scooping up all the forks within reach of the Chaser for their own safety.
"Potter you animal!"
"Don't forget about Vaisey-"
"-Dude!"
Later that night
Harry breathed in the cool air of the Slytherin common room, moving towards his usual haunt by the bubble as the rest of the Slytherin house returned to their home away from home.
Excited chatter filled the room, somewhat irritating him a little bit. The lonely beauty of the common room had been all his for nearly two weeks, and now it seemed awfully loud… he then paused. Azog's balls, I sound like an old man…
Leaning against the arm of one of the couches, Harry watched as the First through to Second years filtered off into the 'Skink pit', the wing of underground dormitories that he himself had stayed in just the year before. He had to shake his head at that, the cold-blooded motif in this House is just a touch overdone… he noted not for the first time.
"Your brood has returned."
Harry scoffed, speaking of… subtly, he flicked his eyes to the side, looking out of the bubble and into the Black Lake. It took him a moment to find her, but eventually he picked out the two gleaming yellow eyes peeking out from a large bed of vegetation.
Harry shrugged, still observing as the Prefects began to usher groups of firsties off into the leftmost hallway. "It would seem so," he replied, the words slipping from his tongue like quicksilver. He had whispered with the barest of breaths, and even then, a few nearby students shivered as the reverberating hiss slithered into their ears.
Pursing his lips as he watched a few of his housemates glance around, unnerved, Harry turned his head towards the serpent in the weeds. Or… at least what he assumed was a serpent. In what was over a week of shy conversation, the entity had never revealed itself.
Could be a goddamned crab, for all I know… or a talking shoe-
"Whatchya lookin' at?"
Harry flinched, snapping away from the Black Lake to find Vaisey stood barely a foot away.
In turn, Vaisey blinked owlishly, looking down at the glowing wand tip thrust up under his chin. It was only his tight grip around Harry's own wrist that had stopped the other boy from shanking him in the throat. "Fuck, Potter..."
Confused, Harry eased up, staring at his wand hand as if it were some alien entity. What the hell was that? He cleared his throat awkwardly, "I - sorry. You uhh, you startled me..." he trailed off somewhat lamely.
Seeing that he was no longer about to be impaled, Vaisey let go of Harry and took a very obvious step back. "That's some reaction to being spooked you got there, mate," the large Beater replied, eyeing Harry strangely.
Inwardly, Harry agreed. His fingers brushed against the broken spear, shrunk and stuck to his belt just beside where he usually kept his wand. Sheathing the still glowing wand, Harry let out a subtle breath of relief.
In some stroke of fortune, his belt had seemingly rotated ever so slightly on his waist throughout the day, and his fingers had found the handle of his wand instead.
A few inches of difference… and he might have splattered the basalt floor of the Slytherin common rooms a starkly different colour.
What-Why did I do that?
Thankfully, most Slytherins were busy filtering into their respective dorms or catching up with their groups. Only a few inquisitive eyes were thrown Harry's way. Rubbing at the red spot under his chin, Vaisey grunted non-committedly. "Anyway…"
"Yeah…"
"Cassius has been calling your name, let's go."
He turned, and Harry fell into step beside him. "Warrington made Prefect?"
"Him and Beselt," Vaisey affirmed.
Traversing the tables and lounges that scattered the common room, Harry found three people waiting for him. The tallest of which, who also happened to be their team Keeper, was eyeing him in some mild irritation.
"You deaf, Harry?" Cassius asked.
"I was on the other side of the room, if you didn't notice."
The popular fifth year shook his head, "There's a lot of people in this room, if you didn't notice," Cassius retorted. "Not everyone wants to spend all their time staring at the famous Potter spawn."
Harry cocked a brow, and Vaisey's face lit up with a devious smirk.
"Well-"
"-Do not."
Vaisey slowly let go of the breath he had drawn to speak.
Cassius's brow furrowed at the Beater. "Make one more dig at my sister and I will scalp you, half-blood."
Vaisey glanced between them deliberately, comparing the inconsequential size difference despite the fact Warrington was in his fifth year.
"Primitive apes..."
"Yep… makes for good entertainment though."
Harry couldn't help but smirk at the annoyed muttering from the two girls who had been waiting for them. Eventually the pissing contest settled, and a smug looking Vaisey stepped back next to Harry. Suitably ticked off, Cassius inhaled a monumental breath and just started walking away, making a gesture for the third years to 'follow'.
He led them into the Kharybdis wing, a dilapidated hallway so ruined that it had somehow become beautiful. Parts of the walls and ceilings were missing, allowing the invisible field to create even more windows from which to see into the Black Lake. Engraved all throughout the stonework, or what was left of it, the legendary mythical sea monster that was the Kharybdis writhed and churned in animated enchantments.
They stopped about halfway down, and Cassius gestured to a wrought iron double door not unlike the ones they had passed by. "These are your dorms. Greengrass and Rosier to one chamber, and you two idiots can go drown in the lake for all I care."
With that, the newly minted Prefect stalked off.
Vaisey clicked his tongue, "Well that was rude."
Harry didn't reply, instead reaching forwards and pulling the door open. Teal blue light spilled over them, abstract and random as if refracted through crystals.
"Oh my…"
Harry had to agree with Rosier as she sighed in awe.
Even Vaisey snorted as he stepped inside. "Damn, they've been holding out on us."
The dorm room was essentially a miniature version of the main common room. A freshly stoked, blue burning fire crackled in it's hearth surrounded by lavish furniture. The far end of the chamber was equipped with a table and chairs for studying or eating, with a completely torn away and ravaged back wall that warranted yet another invisible forcefield. To their left and right were two chambers, each seemingly ready to spaciously accommodate two people each.
Vaisey immediately broke off into their room, throwing his trunk onto the bed furthest away from the light that was spilling in from Black Lake. Harry didn't mind, he would much rather prefer the view anyway. A smirk bloomed across his face as something caught his eye, and he watched as a pair of familiar yellow eyes slowly crept out of the dark depths.
"Merlin… what do you think that is?"
Harry glanced over to Rosier and found her chewing on pouty red lips, seemingly unnerved by the sight.
"A crab," Harry replied.
Early next morning,
Seventh floor...
Harry stepped fluidly to the side, wand coming up with a small banishment charm at its tip. "Depulso." The whispered spell took, and the metal-clad hand that was reaching for him recoiled back as if slapped away.
He sniffed, stowing his wand as he left the detection radius of the suit of armour. It had been an awfully awkward moment back in his first year when he found out that the suits were charmed to snatch up students breaking curfew. He still remembered the moment he had managed to slip free, just before Filch and his demon cat rounded the corner.
A fond smile broke out on his face, good times.
Turning his back on the knight, knowing that it would be stepping back to its podium, Harry sucked in a breath as he took stock of the mirror cordon. Or at least, that was what he had taken to calling the area to which the Raven had led him.
He pulled out a hand drawn map from his pocket, glancing at it briefly in irritation. "Worth a shot…" he muttered, tossing it to the side.
The rough layout he had sketched down just a few days previously was completely useless now. The hallways and rooms had rearranged once again.
A chirp had him glancing up to the buzzard that was eyeing the piece of paper, and Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not littering, it's conjured parchment you stupid bird."
An accusing stare met his claim, and Harry shook his head in exasperation. Ignoring the avian, he turned his attention back to the mirror cordon. I don't think I'll be able to find it before breakfast… The sun had yet to rise. There was still an hour or so of darkness left. I could just skip it, I doubt anyone will notic-
He suddenly froze.
The fine hairs on the back of Harry's neck pricked up as his ears twitched, registering the faint rattling of chains and the slithering hiss of steel against steel. He turned around, brows furrowed in confusion.
The suit of armour was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at him.
-and it had drawn its sword.
A moment of silence stretched between them, broken only by Tremblay's uneasy shifting as she fluttered to Harry's shoulder. Harry felt goosebumps rippling up the skin on his arms. Not once had he seen a suit of-
The knight suddenly sprinted at him.
Flinching in alarm, Harry threw up his wand and rapped out a flurry of impediment jinxes, eyes widening as the magic seemed to almost slough off the oncoming suit of armour like water. A blasting curse, followed by two wild stunners flew down the hallway only to meet the same ineffective fate.
A familiar voice echoed through his head. Run.
And Harry ran, deeper and deeper into the mirror cordon as the clanking mass of rusted metal chased him with a berserker's fervour. A hollow noise began to seep from the holes chiseled into it's faceplate, like the moaning of a wounded animal except pitched and warped to oblivion.
Tremblay took off with a screech as Harry barrelled through the hallways, not knowing where the hell he was going as he pushed through doors and corridors with a racing heart. He slammed every door behind him, quickly charming them with the strongest locking charm he could manage without stopping.
Even still-
'Crash!'
His pursuer just burst straight through them, longsword reversed into a mordhau grip as the blade's tip had broken long ago. The construct was using it more like a damned mace now.
Which was by far more terrifying.
Tremblay whipped by his head as they turned into another intersection, screeching loudly to garner his attention. He turned his head, and saw what she had seen. A knight stood on its podium halfway down the hall, however it was only after Tremblay's frantic squawking did he take a closer look.
His eyes widened.
At the far end of the left most corridor lay a raised gate of some kind. Thick black iron sat perched above a doorway, just aching to be dropped via the chain pulley system beside it.
"I see it," he affirmed to the buzzard, just as the rogue knight smashed through the last wooden door that separated it from Harry. It's empty helm turned to regard the interloper, unphased as a cutting curse splashed harmlessly across its breastplate, despite the deep crevasse was carved into the wall behind it.
It took a step forwards, and promptly lurched as its foot sunk into the stone floor. Teeth made of weathered rock began to claw up the knight's leg, seeking to swallow the suit of armour whole.
Harry didn't stick around to see the effects of the spell Quirrel had taught him, which was fortunate, for it took only a single violent pull from construct to rip its leg free and resume it's chase.
There was a good distance between them, at least a hundred meters. He could easily make it to the other end.
And yet… It's heavy footsteps were growing louder… and loude-
'CRASH!'
The clatter of metal and chains falling to the floor reached Harry's ears, and he turned to find the knight splattered across the ground in an array of rusted steel. Pieces of armour had scattered across the ground, inanimate once more.
Harry slowed, chest heaving and brows narrowed in confusion. What had happened?
The air grew cold around him as the shadows in the corners of the hall deepened. A rush of wind blew past him towards the portcullis.
Don't… stop!
The harsh whisper jolted Harry back into action, and he turned back aroun-
He froze.
Stepping from its podium, helmed head jittering unnaturally as something seeped into the gaps of its armour, the knight at the far end of the corridor took up its halberd.
An air of hopelessness fell upon Harry as the entity's gaze locked onto him.
This can't be real…
His wand flashed in arcs of motion, and Harry watched grimly as his spells were once again, useless. Offering Quirrel's replacement wand an irritated stare, he sheathed the damned thing. I would have had better luck with a stick off the ground...
No retreat…
The words echoed in his head, and Harry shivered. Was that true? His eyes fell on the carcass of the previous knight. Would the suit of armour behind him come to life if he turned back?
Forwards… unto madness.
"Forwards unto madness…" Harry murmured. Why did those words seem so familiar?
Subconsciously, he drew the broken spear from his belt.
Tremblay landed on his shoulder, and Harry could feel her fear. His jaw tightened. How do I keep finding myself in these positions?
Nevertheless, he stroked the buzzard's beak calmingly. "We have to get past it somehow," he informed, unsure of whether he was telling himself or the bird.
Tremblay shifted, uncomfortable with the idea. "You go ahead," Harry ordered. Tremblay hesitated, unwilling to leave his side, but Harry shifted her on his arm and pushed her off into the air, ignoring her affronted squawk. "Go, you stupid bird... and fly high."
Tremlbay took off, soaring up towards the roof, however the rogue knight paid her no mind. It's empty gaze was levelled only on Harry.
Figures, Harry muttered inwardly.
He was offered no time to ponder as the knight advanced. Slowly, this time. It's halberd was held across its front, and Harry felt morbidly like a prisoner who was watching his own executioner approach.
One chance…
Harry sneered. I'm well aware.
The broken spearhead hummed in his palm, and Harry glanced down, surprised. God… i'm not 'that' stupid am I?
Unfortunately for him, he decided that he was as he brought the damaged weapon to bear.
"This is insane…" he whispered.
His muscles bunched up, ready to make a break for it-
Not yet.
Harry paused, unsure of why he did. It wasn't time yet. How he knew that, he could not say.
The construct stepped ever closer, it's heavy greaves carving scuff marks against the weathered stone floor of Hogwarts. It was terrifyingly close now. Harry could smell the faint scent of aged metal in the air.
Wait…
The halberd shifted in the rogue knight's grip, it's chipped edge carving a ragged line through the air as it readied it's weapon.
Now!
His body moved, forwards, despite the madness of it.
The sound of something whistling through the air, and a flash of something jet-black over the knight's shoulder had Harry's eyes widening in alarm.
Two powerful talons crept over the bascinet visor of the construct as Tremblay emerged from behind, yanking on it's helmet. Seeing his opportunity, Harry swept low, engraved spearhead lunging for the knight's lower flank. Hissing over his head, the staked tip of the halberd missed by a hair's breadth thanks to Tremblay's efforts.
Expecting the jarring slam of steel against steel, Harry was wholly unprepared as the spearhead carved through the knight's knee like a hot knife through butter. The thing buckled beneath its weight for but a moment, and Harry ran.
"Tremblay!" he shouted, and the bird abandoned it's attack immediately, zipping to his side as they made for the portcullis.
The heavy sound of clanging steel dogged their mad dash.
Drawing his wand, Harry dove beneath the portcullis and whipped a hasty flourish in the air as he aimed back towards the pulley system. "Carpe rostrum ruptor!" The sharp chirping of a sparrow flared to life, the sound emanating from Harry's wand. Firing from its tip, a tiny auburn bird made of pure magic shot through the air like a bullet, twirling and pirouetting before spearing directly into and through the thick links of chain that held the gate raised.
The portcullis fell with a heavy groan, slamming into the ground just as the knight collided head-on into the blackened iron. Harry watched with a bated breath as the entire gate shuddered, some of the metal even bending ever so slightly…
But it held.
A laboured breath seeped from his lips as he sat up from where he was sprawled across the floor. Tremblay nipped at his shirt, urging him to his feet.
Harry nodded, although couldn't help but stare at the construct, which was watching him through the gaps in the bars. Slowly, as if a lion was trying not to spook a mouse, the rogue suit of armour lowered its helmed head towards the bars.
It pressed its visor against the metal, almost as if to get a better look.
The flutter of small wings hit Harry's ears, followed by the familiar tweet of a songbird.
"Harry?"
Flinching at the unexpected voice, Harry turned to find Quirrel emerging into the hallway from behind him, wand raised. The tracking charm that the man had used on him all throughout Alexandria, in the form of the little sparrow, came to land on Harry's shoulder.
"Good grief, what on earth are you doing in this random neck of the castle, and so early at that?" Quirrel asked, as if he hadn't yet noticed the rusted suit of armour leering at Harry on the other side of the gate.
Harry stared dumbfounded at Quirrel, "I… I was just…" he trailed off, turning back towards the knig-
It was gone.
There was nothing there. Even the dent in the iron gate had vanished.
"W-what?"
Quirrel came to a stop beside him, his swirling silks brushing against Harry. "What is it?"
Harry gestured to the portcullis, unsure of what to say. Eventually, he shook his head. "I… the chains on that thing just snapped as I passed under it," he lied.
Quirrel perked a brow at him, before raising his wand and levitating the gate up. Harry bit down on his tongue. It would be a damned shame if the thing reappeared.
Thankfully, the construct remained mysteriously absent as Quirrel mended the severed chains with another twirl of his wand. "Unusual… it almost looks like it was cut."
Harry didn't reply. Quirrel had a tendency of voiding his suspicions by coming up with plausible excuses of his own-
"Though without a doubt that would have been the sound I heard just a minute ago." He shook his head, tutting as he reached down and pulled Harry to his feet with a gloved hand. "I wouldn't disregard the notion of a doxy infestation or two up here, the Seventh floor is very seldom used. That fool of a caretaker 'Filch' needs to take his duties a little more seriously."
Harry sighed internally. Thanks for the save, mate. "Come to think of it, I did smell sulphur earlier," he muttered, racking his brain for whatever information on doxies he could recall.
Quirrel sniffed, "Vile pests…" he then turned to Harry. "Back to my earlier question - what were you doing?"
Harry shrugged, gesturing to Tremblay who had perched on his shoulder and was glaring dangerously at the oblivious little bird who had claimed the opposite spot. "Alessandra told me that Buzzards are capable of finding magical artefacts."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Alessandra had told him that, and he was using her to look for a magical artefact.
Quirrel's eyes narrowed, "Cursed magical artefacts, actually." Harry suddenly found a nearby painting of incredible curiosity, and Quirrel shook his head in exasperation. "Did you not manage to sate your curiosity in Alexandria?"
"Well that was hardly my fault."
"Oh?"
"Of course! I wasn't the idiot running around smacking load-bearing pillars with a bloody great big ax-"
Quirrel cut him off with a wave of his hand, "Yes, yes. Point taken," he muttered. Shaking his head once more, he sighed and gestured for Harry to follow. "Very well, come on then."
Harry blinked, looking back towards the mirror cordon. Was he going mad? Did he really want to go back in there?
It took all of half a second to realise that… yes, he did. Very much so. The mystery, the danger, the sheer curiosity that was pulling at every fibre in his body was demanding that he return. There were so many questions that needed answers…
The paper raven, the mirror, the rogue knight, the everchanging cordo-
Harry swallowed thickly, what the hell is wrong with me?
Quirrel was a terrible influence. The man had awoken some ridiculously dangerous, adrenalin seeking junkie in him...
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, trying to distract himself. "And why are you here?"
Quirrel gave him a curious look over his shoulder as they walked. "To my office, and maybe because I was looking for you? Why else would I be here?"
"Yes, but why are you looking for me specifically?"
"To give you detention for breaking curfew, perhaps?" Quirrel laughed as Harry shot him a deadpan glare. "Your dittany oil has finished curing."
Harry cocked a brow, "Is that it?"
"I guess there's also the matter of continuing your lessons." At Harry's surprised look, Quirrel smiled innocently. "You didn't think your apprenticeship was over, did you? Six sharp at my office every morning from here on out."
Harry felt a little piece of himself die inside.
Harry slipped through the door to the classroom just moments before it was pushed closed, and he found himself suddenly staring at a black-trim set of expensive robes at an awfully close distance. Dark, beady eyes stared down at him in an unreadable expression, with thin lips pursing in displeasure.
"Uh, morning, Professor-"
"A second later and you would have broken both your nose, and the record for the fastest detention after the start of a school year," Snape sneered. "A shame that either did not come to pass."
Harry didn't quite have a reply for that, and the Potions Master sniffed imperiously. "Well, are you going to stand there gawking like some luddite, or take your seat like a civilised individual, Potter?"
Wordlessly, Harry slid around Snape and made for his seat, ignoring the eyes on him. He tried as best he could to disguise his heaving lungs and aching musculature. Damned Quirrel… the lunatic had brought back several tonnes of 'gifts' of the granular variety from Alexandria for Harry to 'play with'.
If he makes me levitate any more sand, I might go and set every beach I can find on fire…
Curiously, he found his usual spot by the front, leftmost corner of the classroom occupied. As he passed by Granger and Weasley at the closest desk, his curiosity was alleviated somewhat.
"Believe me, this wasn't my idea," Vaisey muttered as Harry took his seat next to him.
Greengrass also glanced away, crossing her legs as she turned her attention to Snape who had taken to the front of the class once again. "Neither was it mine," she sniffed. "This is an awful spot, Potter, you can barely see the teacher's desk from this angle."
"That's kind of the point," Harry mumbled, setting up his workspace and placing Delilah's book close at hand. The French witch's pre-written lectures, diagrams and teaching far outstripped whatever drivel Madame Oliphont spouted. Speaking of… where is she, and why is Snape here?
Rosier sighed, interrupting his thoughts, "Obviously, it was my idea," she said. "You'd think it would be nice to get to know each other if we're going to be stuck living with one another, no?"
"In the middle of Potions, Rosier? Are you itching for a date with dirty cauldrons, or do they make a habit of raising idiots over there in France?"
Harry bit down on his lip to stifle his smile as he flipped his textbook open. Vaisey's dry bluntness was quite a talent.
The remark did bring up an interesting point however, and Harry couldn't help but sneak a glance at the dark-haired witch across from him. Considering the Rosier family's involvement during the war against the Dark Lord, one would think it mad to see her sharing his table.
Unless she was from a different branch of the family altogether due to a certain… lack of the main family's presence in Britain.
James Potter was not known as the 'attack dog' of the ICW for no reason.
Harry imagined that there was quite the chuffed grin hidden behind a veneer of crocodile tears as the disregarded French branch moved into their new ancestral home.
Breaking out of his musings as Rosier's brows narrowed at the Beater, Harry coughed lightly. "He's got a point, however. We could have caught up over breakfast or something."
"Oh? The one both of you were absent for?"
Harry cocked a brow at Greengrass' remark. Looking away from her as she eyed him curiously, obviously expecting an answer, Harry instead nudged Vaisey. "Where were you?"
"Skipping around the lake with a basket full of daisies, obviously."
Harry rolled his eyes, a reply on his tongue just as a loud 'bang!' rang out from the raised stage. Snape had slammed down the year's textbook, leaning forwards over the brewing station. The torches flickering in their wrought iron sconces dimmed, as if they too were unnerved by the Potions Master.
"Before the meagre lumps of flesh you call your 'brains' burst from inquiry, let me state that: no, I will not be teaching your class this year," Snape drawled, leaning back and folding his arms. "Madame Oliphont became indisposed over the Summer, indefinitely.
Harry heard rather than saw Granger's arm shoot up in question, and with great difficulty did Snape drag his eyes over to her.
"What?"
"Sorry Professor, but Madame Oliphont had organised a project over the Summer that several people in this class partook in, did she forward her reviews, by any chance?"
Snape snorted softly, "No," he replied. As Granger's features fell, he shrugged. "Though perhaps you could go and see if she still has them? You'll need a shovel, and perhaps a pry bar to get to her."
Granger blanched, and the class seemed to recoil at the revelation of what Snape had truly meant by 'indisposed'.
Vaisey's quiet chuckles had both girls turning to eye him incredulously.
"Seriously?" Rosier whispered.
Vaisey shrugged, trying to smother his smirk. "Come on, that was pretty good."
Snape certainly thinks so, Harry noted inwardly, seeing the Potion's Professor's lips twitch as Granger's hand sunk quickly back to her side.
Satisfied with the resounding silence, Snape flicked his wand over towards the blackboard, revealing the term's study curriculum. With some intrigue, Harry noted that Strengthening Solutions and Everlasting Elixirs were on the list. Delilah had already gone over them with him in great detail, expecting them to appear in his classes some point soon.
His thumb tapped the edge of her book as he sat back, satisfied. What would I do without you, Miss Histwood?
Harry tuned back in as Snape made a vague gesture towards what used to be Madame Oliphont's desk. "Whilst Dumbledore searches for a replacement teacher, I will be forced to stand in." Smartly, not a single sound was made in response to that. "As during your very first year, I expect nothing but excellence whilst you are in my presence. I will not tolerate ineptitude, despite how large the amount of it you all have in abundance to give." Snape took a second to scan the classroom, and Harry was reminded of a vulture looking for a carcass to feast upon. "Textbooks to page forty-seven, we begin with study preparation for the Draught of Peace."
The sound of multiple leather backed books flipping open filled the room.
"For the record," Harry heard Rosier whisper, not looking up from her page. "I did not think to expect Professor Snape when I suggested this."
Harry ignored both Snape and Rosier, flipping open Delilah's book instead. The paper raven weighed heavily in his pocket, and there was only one source of information he could tap into without fear of being questioned.
Vaisey glanced over to where Snape was writing instructions on the board, and shrugged. "That's a fair point."
"Yes, it is," Harry mumbled, eager to get them to stop talking. "Our apologies."
Their surprise from the other end of the table almost had him snorting in amusement, but he quelled it as he scribbled into the book, waiting expectantly. Balls, is she having breakfast or someth-
'Oh, good morning! I thought you would be in class?'
Harry grinned.
'I am.'
'Harry…'
'Say… what do you know of magically resistant and or immune entities?'
There was a pause, before he felt the pages shudder beneath his palm.
'What on earth?'
'Humour me.' Another pause. 'Your hair looks great today, by the way.'
'Merde… very well. Let me go and get my books.'