AN: And we're back! Sorry if you wanted more action, there's a bit of suspense and mystery in this chapter but the heat hasn't been cranked up yet. Mostly just dialogue, once again. I might be including too much talking in my first fic, but it's been kind of fun to try and write out the characters, much more than I expected. As I've said, I'm basically writing this story on the fly. Chapter 10 will be a sort of interlude, kind of a free-write style thing cutting away from our main characters, but by 11 we'll be back in the midst of adventure mode.
"§Parseltongue§"
This fic isn't going to have a lot of Parseltongue in it, but it's obviously a facet of Harry and Voldemort and I kinda like the snake-looking way the silcrow symbol looks, so I'll keep that to help distinguish between spells/thoughts and Parsel.
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.
We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of the infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far."
-H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu
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CH - Dusk/Dawn
July 16th, 1997, ? hours
She never remembers how she ends up in this place
year after year,
time and time again...
It's always because of him. She doesn't know how he's done it, but it's him.
Even now, nothing's changed. She feels the blackness but doesn't see it, can't move her eyelids or feel if they're there at all. Her eyes may be open, for all she knows, pupils failing to see what was never meant to seen.
She can't breathe. Everything is empty, but it's so close. It presses down on her like a troll squatting on top of her mind. Suffocating. The nothingness stretches forever and there is no horizon, there never was a beginning or an end.
This isn't Death, she knows. But maybe it's the closest she'll get until the end really comes. She scrabbles against the numbness of her thoughts, the slower-than-lead feeling of her psyche trying to claw its way to the surface. Like swimming through Stinksap, but far, far worse.
She knows the Void intimately. It feels just like it did when she was a little girl. Back then, she was nothing. She became hunger, undying flame, infinite thirst, because it is the only way to retain her sanity.
Slowly, bit by bit, she's burning. There is no body around her, but she can feel the heat. Hot like melted wax, sliding around inside her, trying to keep the darkness at bay. If she had a skull, it would feel like her brain was combusting. Or ablating. It raged at the darkness, encapsulating her like a cocoon, but it never seems enough.
"Poor little Ginevra, still fighting with every step." The voice eats at her, and she shrinks away from the contact.
It's him.
His voice doesn't come from anywhere, the words just hit her as if coming from the darkness itself.
She grabs them after a moment, angryafraidangry. And she burns, eating at him little by little while he struggles. Just like he did to her.
And then she breathes, her lungs protesting as they allow air to enter that body which belongs to her, and no one else. Then the body chokes, tongue crushed against the back of her throat, nearly swallowed. She hacks and sputters, lungs wheezing and gasping for breath, but she knows she's not awake, not really. Her body aches, her head pounds, it feels wrongwrongwrong. Nevertheless, she forces herself to look up, peeling her body from the grimy stone floor.
The clack of his shoes catches her attention first.
His handsome face is next, and she shudders. She cursed herself and him once more, knowing it futile, watching him smile and knowing he heard it too. His eyes are red. They gleam like rubies and blood.
"Always running, fighting." She rolls away from him when he comes close, shying from reaching hands. "Even when you know you've already lost."
"Don't talk to me like you still know me, sonofabitch." She spits, forcing her herself to stand on one knee. "I almost beat you when I was 11, and I'll do it again."
"Oh, really? Is that why you're still here, stuck in my Chamber? Little Weasley girl...always alone..."
"...Except for me."
"FUCK YOU!" The scream rips from her throat before she can think. It burns, it burns, and she can't help but want more, hungry still.
"You think you're special, Riddle? Just a shred of something once alive, a piece of a little boy whose Mommy and Daddy didn't love him. Couldn't even beat a baby, couldn't beat a boy! You're NOTHING! You couldn't take my soul, you arrogant prick."
The smile is maddening, makes her want to rip into his throat and taste blood that will surely taste just like her own. The hunger howls, demanding. She pictures him writhing on the ground of the chamber, wishing she knew what he looked like with his intestines splattered on the stones.
"I lost." His acknowledgement of failure is so out of character for Voldemort that her anger falters for a moment. He catches it. "Don't be so shocked." He purrs, like he's goddamn pleased, and she feels an urge to rip off his lips and shove them down his gullet.
"This little boy terrorized your school." His lips curl further as he points at himself. "This little boy became the first to find the Chamber, to achieve immortality, to drive Albus Dumbledore away tail, between his legs, without so much as a complete body for myself. Those successes resulted in failure, however, no matter the little accomplishments. You're correct, I was pathetic. But I made something truly beautiful...and unexpected."
"Oh, really? What would that be, you freak?"
He smirks, unperturbed. "You, of course, little one."
"Oh, are you trying to get into my pants Tom?" She snarks, hand raised as she could feel her magical strength condensing into her palm. Could she use magic in here, wherever this was? She'd never tried, but she'd kill him again if she could. "Get the fuck out, you didn't make me! You tried to break me for your own selfishness. And I'M STILL HERE!"
He circles her like a predator, and she keeps her eyes glued on him. He's observing her, finding something there, watching her anger and hate and the starved fire crying out for fuel. His eyes are angry, they'd never been angry before. He'd always forced his control over her, and when she tried to fight he would only chuckle and crush her down into herself, leaving her unable to do anything, left to watch the world move around her.
Something's different this time.
"But where is here, little girl? It's all in your head, of course, but why should that mean that this is not real?" His smile is all bared teeth, a savage grin that tells her that more is yet to come. "I carry on in you, even when I'm gone." His anger boils too, and she feeds on it, burning herself hotter and hotter as the heat seeks to match him. "Don't you remember, the emptiness when I left you behind? What you became after? Powerful, independent, standing up for yourself even among your filthy brood of brothers..."
"Shut UP! You have nothing on who I am now, little horcrux." She mocks him, baiting him still. She isn't ready.
"DO NOT LIE!" She flinches at the angry roar, and hates him so much for it that she lunges to smack him. It's no use. Her legs are still weak, folding on themselves. She misses grasping him by an inch as he slides laterally, avoiding her flailing fist. Then his voice comes out as a hiss."§I am a part of you, little Ginevra!§"
"You're a liar, not me!"
"§Then how is it that you can still understand me?"
"FUCKING DIE ALREADY! YOU WON'T HURT ME AGAIN!" She sobs as she swings at him, ignoring the pain in her limbs as she tries her best to beat him to death. His red eyes flash in harmonious glee and rage, and he raises his head high, calling out.
"§SPEAK TO US, SLYTHERIN, GREATEST OF THE HOGWARTS FOUR!§"
nononononononoNONONONONONO
And then his hand is on her throat and she can't breathe. Tugged to her knees, forced to stare at blood-red eyes as she peers into his soul, and he into hers.
He has no breath. She doesn't feel it on her face. She more notices than sees the basilisk as it encircles them, trapping them together.
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" He roared, and she knew she had never seen him so emphatic, so enraged.
"Look, foolish girl, and see our masterpiece..."
And when she turns her head, she gasps in fear. The king of serpents is not green, like it should have been. Midnight black surrounds her, so dark that the scales seem to warp the light around them, absorbing everything. The shadows sift around in its presence.
She doesn't remember the creature looking like this behemoth that now slithered before her, several times more massive than it had been upon waking in Harry's arms. The basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was a creature of terror - something meant to become an impenetrable line of defence.
This thing is...something more. Reborn. Hungry.
It reeks of knowledge she can't understand, of power so untamed that she can do nothing but quiver with a fear she can't comprehend. When the magnificent abomination raises its head, she gasps soundlessly at the crown of copper-red feathers forming the sagittal crest, connected to a circlet around the edges of its skull.
Wait a second.
Why does it look like the color of her hair?
Then the creature's eyelids open, and flash. Fiery gold ringed with red magic. It dances like flame. The mouth opens and tongue flashes forth, tasting the scent of air that isn't air. The fangs drip black poison and its mouth is twisted like a smile.
"§Wake up...Little Devourer...§"
Then she sees the inside of its mouth draw closer, and then there is nothing but crushing emptiness once more.
July 16th, 1997, 0436 hours
Ginny Weasley woke with a choked scream. She heaved herself upright, coughing. The acrid taste of bile crept up her throat. Hastily she spun to the side, her fingers managing to snag her wand from the bedside table.
"Scourgify," she hissed, pointing the wandtip at her mouth. She let free a grimace of disgust. It tasted like she'd washed out her mouth with minty soap bubbles. Better than heaving up last night's mead, I s'pose. Dropping the wand in the tangled sheets, she fell back onto the bed with a moan, staring at her new bedroom, trying to let the nightmare pass over her. It didn't really work.
Their bedrooms had appeared in the hallway that branched off from the right side of the new Room of Requirement. Three on either side of the hall, with two shared bathrooms, and one large doorway that Harry had declared a "surprise for another time." Ginny had pouted and tried to wrench open the door, but found that he'd requested the Room keep it locked for now. To her dismay, not even an Alohomora or Aberto could budge it. Usually she wasn't much for surprises, at all. Being surprised by a talking piece of evil soul inside a diary had been enough, thanks very much.
But upon placing her hand on the bedroom doorknob, a sign with her name had popped into existence, right on top of the door. Her new living quarters were a tremendous surprise - an excellent one. Structurally, it was identical to her room in the Burrow. These wooden walls were newer though, unblemished by years of scratches and childish misuse. She'd painted her old room in the Burrow bright pink when she was 10. These walls were a deep mulberry-purple, the colors rich and soothing. Tiny images of brooms and Quaffles danced in shining gold along the planks. Somehow, the Room of Requirement had even copied her posters of The Weird Sisters and Gwenog Jones. It made her feel comfortable, and she stared at the sparkling gold between the open curtains of the four-poster bed.
Her heart slowed. When she could barely feel it pounding anymore, she heaved herself up, grabbing her wand to throw a tempus at the nearest wall and summon a bathrobe into her fist. She padded to the door and walked out to the hallway, aching for a hot shower and knowing she couldn't go back to sleep.
The bathroom was divine, a smaller and more ornate replica of the one she used in Gryffindor Tower. The steaming hot water cleansed and soothed. It felt different than it used to, she wasn't quite sure if she liked it. Her skin was flushed, but she hadn't felt the scalding pain of hot water in months. There was only the dueling sensations of paradoxical cold and burning warmth. Almost involuntarily, she let out a sigh that turned into a half-moan as she rolled the tightly corded muscles in her shoulder, rubbing them loose. She closed her eyes and let the water cascade over her face in a flood of heat, trying in vain to burn away the image of Tom Riddle's disgusting smirk from behind her eyelids.
Stepping from the shower stall wrapped in a towel, she paused to stare at herself in the mirror. The image that stared back at her was hazy and blurred. Maybe it's fogged over. She grabbed her wand and muttered a quick "tergeo," trying to wipe condensation off the glassy surface, wanting a good look at herself. To her confusion, nothing happened. Tangled red hair and pink skin look back at her like a gelatinous cartoon, glaring back almost mockingly.
When the answer for her confusion finally hit her, she emitted a sad hiss of annoyance and futile disappointment.
Mirrors are glass backed with reflective metal. Only charm-enchanted and potion-treated silver mirrors can properly reflect the image of a vampire. She tries to be analytical, like Hermione is. This is an alloy surface...meant for humans, so it can't reflect what I look like.
It doesn't really help.
Once upon a time she would be standing there searching her reflection for developing curves, fixing up zits on her skin, spending an hour dolling up her hair and makeup, or worrying incessantly about her freckles. Now she was different. Battle and two fangs in her throat had made sure of that. She'd outed herself to some of the people who mattered most. In those three long months it took to reconcile with the concept of no longer being human, she had barely once wanted to look at herself. This made no difference. No answers, only new questions. She knew only what she was not, and the emptiness was all that remained. Adrift and alone, floundering to find something solid to ground her identity. Just like the Void.
Maybe I am going mad...
She settled for a sleeveless top and underwear, wrapping herself tight in the long bathrobe as she walked out into the Room's common space. It's still too early. The elves would respond if she asked them, she supposed, but she didn't want food. The bile in her stomach and the itching in her throat would come back full force, and any awry thoughts would overturn her weak stomach. Her hunger was different. Something comforting, perhaps. Blood would be nice, she supposed, but a bit awkward to ask of the castle's house elves. Maybe she'd consult Dobby on the protocol for that later. Hot chocolate might be best. She'd want to grab a mug and curl up in front of the fireplace with a book, waiting until the others arrived.
Thus she was surprised to find that the Room wasn't empty.
Harry lay on a two-seater near the fire, sprawled partially on his side, dead asleep. His left arm was curled up under his head, resting against the arms of the loveseat. His hair practically was a birds nest of bedhead, sticking up horribly in the back. He looked calm and peaceful.
A deceptive appearance, of course. He had gone to sleep in his new bedroom last night. If he was lying down here, he'd obviously failed to get a good rest. Another thing we share in common, Ginny thought bitterly, along with a history of bad luck and Tom. She knelt low to stroke her fingers over his locks, soothingly, then decisively stood and gently sat down next to him on the couch.
Always a light sleeper, Harry's eyelids fluttered as the loveseat cushions shifted. He tensed at first, obviously noting her proximity, but relaxed as he opened his eyes and gave her a drowsy half-smile. She made no comment, but her blood boiled at his obvious discomfort just seconds ago, and she cursed the Dursley's once more for not treating him right. Though I wouldn't be much better after a nightmare either...
"Hey," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep. With a groan he shifted up, leaning back into the cushions and masking a yawn. "Wha' time is it?"
"Almost 5." She runs her hand through his hair again. The slow repetitive movement soothed her as much as it did him. "How long have you been out here, Harry?"
"Dunno." Barely a whisper and a sigh. He's quiet, brooding like always. For good reason. "Tom had a meeting last night, slaughtered some muggles because he was mad about his troops not being able to catch a bunch of kids." His green eyes are dim and bitter and she chokes down the lump in her throat, leaning in to leave a kiss next to the inflamed red scar on his forehead. Small comfort. I wish I could really help him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close.
"If you're here then you didn't sleep any better than me." His voice vibrates into her ear from where she's leaning against his shoulder. She can't help how she tenses slightly at his words, used to the complaining from her roommates or their nagging to talk about it, as if they had ever cared.
Harry is empathy, not sympathy, she reminded herself with a sigh. He wraps an arm around her in turn, matching her hug, always somehow able to sense her dilemma.
There is a moment of hesitation, before the silence breaks.
"Just old nightmares...Tom, the Chamber." She swallowed. "Bad dream, that's all. Nothing horrible or painful, just different...unsettling, y'know?" His arm squeezes her and Ginny remembers the first time he'd ever held her, inside the subject of her nightmares. There are no tears but she sniffles for a moment anyway, as if trying to clear her unease. "Yesterday's talk hit me harder than I expected, I guess."
"I shouldn't be surprised that you have nightmares about that. You could've told me." An agonizing silence spreads for an instant while he flounders for his words. "I'm sorry."
Ginny frowns. "And what exactly are you apologizing for, Potter?" The words come out a little more heatedly than she wants, but to her relief he doesn't seem affected.
"For all of it. I should've seen how you were alone and isolated, I should've known something was wrong when I picked up that diary in the bathroom." His misery is palpable. She's incredulous, wondering how he could possibly blame himself all the time for everything that had ever gone wrong. Fucking Dursleys. The Chamber of Secrets mess was her fault.
"In case you forgot, Harry, I stole the diary back from you. And I'm the one who grew up with magical parents, I should've known the diary was suspicious. Dad said as much when you brought me to Dumbledore's office that day." She looked up to give him a pouting glare, daring him to contradict her again. "If anything, I'm sorry that I never really thanked you for saving my life, even last year. I just..." Ginny breaks off, with a sigh.
"Talking about it makes it real," he says, morose. "I get it, you know."
"No, I think...I wanted to believe that I was over it." She counters slowly, contemplative. "I never wanted to forget it Harry, you risked yourself for me. We didn't know anything about Horcruxes, but even as a kid I knew you did a good thing by getting rid of Tom. But not talking about it to you...well I thought I proved to myself that he didn't matter anymore. I was wrong."
"The diary's gone now, Ginny, destroyed."
"Harry," she says hesitantly. "I know it is. But do me a favor and remember that these aren't objects. They are Tom Riddle, little bits and pieces of him. They are alive. I...I don't know how to explain it. The mind isn't supposed to interact with other souls. When it was happening, I never remembered anything besides the blackouts." She paused, and decided to soldier on. She'd never told anyone what she was about to say. Not Ron, not Hermione or Luna...but Harry deserved to know. "Later on I started to dream of the memories, things Tom said when I was asleep, conversations we'd have in our minds, what it felt like when he took control..." She shuddered against Harry's shoulder, his squeezing warmth easily keeping her revulsion at bay.
"You have to understand. They're not just trinkets that give him immortality, Harry. They are him, and he is them. Even if you can't remember, he whispers in your head."
Harry's answering sigh is miserable and Ginny can't help as tears prick her eyes. Great, first time you're alone with your ex and you're having this absolutely depressing conversation about our mortal enemy.
"When you put it like that," he finally grumbles. "It's a wonder we weren't having more nightmares." A poignant pause. "Do you really think we can do this?
"We will." She speaks up, not knowing where it comes from, but vehement against his misery (and hers, because don't they come from the same place?), aware that she means it from the heart. "We have to. I'll help you, and so will everyone else, and we'll work until we drop dead. Even if it takes a decade to find all the pieces of his soul and kick his scaly arse."
"When did you get so confident?" He mutters, heartened and a little amused.
"When you risked your life to destroy a Horcrux and save an 11-year-old idiot who put her elbow in the butter dish." She mutters weakly, grinning into his arm. "Now shut up and cuddle, Harry."
July 16th, 1997, 0820 hours
"We need to talk about what we're doing while we're here," said Hermione Granger several hours later, frowning as she pushed her plate aside and munched on her remaining piece of toast. The five others sat at the main table, in various states of dress and undress, eating plates provided by a giddy Dobby. She'd been a little annoyed at the House-elf's obvious pleasure at serving them, but to her knowledge he was still getting a salary (even if it was only a Galleon a month). To Hermione's observant eyes, Harry and Ginny looked particularly tired, yet relaxed. She had woken up early by habit, and found the pair curled up on a couch. She knew he didn't often sleep well, had heard enough from Ron over the years to know how his scar bothered him at night, and how his nightmares would fill the space when Voldemort did not. Ginny's presence by his side was a bit of a surprise, to be sure, but welcome. Their dynamic confused her, especially now after they'd agreed to part ways at Dumbledore's funeral, not expecting to see each other for some time. But the short moment of shared pain and comfort together after such a sleepless night was enviable.
Harry was a natural leader and teacher in ways he didn't even notice. He had guided them last night with ease, even when the memories were painful. But at a time like this he was tired and needed help, Hermione was happy to give it. So she resolved to talk first, give them all a direction to start in.
"Um, Hermione, I thought we covered that pretty clearly last night." Ron looked bemused from the side and she rolled her eyes. Neville was barely eating, just watching the conversation and chewing slowly. Luna was somehow shoveling scrambled eggs into her mouth without so much as looking down at her plate, choosing to stare off at the map near the table instead. Hermione continued with her point, trying to banish her worries over the sanity of their friends.
"Yes, of course, but which Horcruxes are left? When and where were they made, and where could they be hidden? We can't go around waving our wands over every square inch of Britain hoping to find one."
Ron just scratched his head, looking puzzled over to Harry, who was already slowly shaking his head. "Didn't Dumbledore tell you what they all were, at least?"
"Someone stole the locket, and Dumbledore died the same night we found that out. He also suspected the Hufflepuff Cup, but he had no clues about it. Nagini is always by Voldemort's side, his creepy familiar, so that'll have to wait. The last one...I don't think Dumbledore ever had a clue."
"Oy," Ginny grumbled from the side, dropping her glass of pumpkin juice with a heavy clunk and giving her ex-boyfriend? (boyfriend?) a glare. "For those of us not in the Golden Trio, mind explaining without half-sentences?"
Harry looked utterly flabbergasted. "Golden Trio?" he muttered, incredulous, obviously disturbed as he fixed her with a bemused stare. "Wha-"
"Harry, enough, they used to call us that for all the nonsense we'd get up to in this castle." Hermione bemoaned. He really is so oblivious of gossip, except when it's in the Prophet. "Just go over how Dumbledore knew what they were and what they are."
"Er...right" He did that thing where he somehow scratched his head and messed up his hair at the same time, and she ruthlessly crushed down the urge to pat him on the head like a little brother. "Last year, Dumbledore showed me memories from himself and other people that show parts of Voldemort's early life and what the Horcruxes might have been. Starting from the day Dumbledore gave him his Hogwarts letter, in an orphanage" He frowned after a second, considering. "Tom was powerful, dangerous even then. I might get into the Headmaster's office later and see if all the memories are still there."
"Anyway, important note is that Tom Riddle liked trophies, especially from his past or his victims." Harry looked extremely discomfited, and Hermione wondered how odd, how horrible it would be to see one's worst enemy slowly becoming a monster, one that would grow to orphan him. "The first horcrux Dumbledore was sure about was a ring that belonged to Tom's grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt, an heirloom that had been passed down. He learned that Voldemort took it the same night he killed his muggle family, and framed his crazy uncle for the murder. Dumbledore eventually found it and destroyed it in the Gaunt house, and that's when his hand got cursed. As Chief Warlock, he took a memory from a Ministry official from years before Riddle was born. Long story short, it showed the ring, but that same house also had something that Voldemort wanted, to prove he was an heir to Slytherin. A locket, passed down in the family that belonged to Salazar himself. But when Voldemort questioned his uncle Morfin about it years later, Riddle found out that his mother Merope had stolen it when she ran away with Tom Riddle Snr, long before she died, and sold it to Borgin and Burke's." He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts for where the story should go next.
"When Riddle graduated Hogwarts he went around for a couple of months and eventually went to work at Borgin and Burke's, basically working as a collector of artifacts for them. He eventually found out that a descendant of Hufflepuff, an old witch named Hepzibah Smith, had bought the locket, as well as an artifact from her own family, a magical goblet created by Hufflepuff herself. He killed her and framed her decrepit house-elf, and disappeared for nearly a decade until he later came to Dumbledore to apply for the DADA position. Dumbledore thinks that when he refused Voldemort, he jinxed the position. Probably why we haven't had a DADA professor ever last more than a year."
There was silence for a moment, as they digested that Tom Riddle had been truly ruthless and a kleptomaniac, even barely older than them. Hermione's stomach roiled at the idea of casually murdering an old woman and stealing from her. Neville broke the silence.
"You said Dumbledore died the same night you found out that someone stole the locket," he said, leaning forward. "That's why you left the castle with him that night? To see if you could find the horcrux? Luna guessed yesterday before we met, that we would have to finish what you and Dumbledore started that night," he says, with a weak grin. "Shit, we were right..."
"Yeah," Harry sighed out, looking miserable. "There was a cave, near the orphanage where Tom lived. He used to torture the muggles who bullied him. Later he used it to hide the horcrux, and filled it with all sorts of creepy defences and a lake full of Inferi. Someone, probably a Death Eater, bypassed the defenses, replaced the locket with a fake. He left a note signed in his initials that made it sound like he was going to be killed soon. I have the note and the fake locket somewhere in my trunk. We're going to have to hunt down whoever took it to make sure it's destroyed. I didn't even know that it was a fake until after Dumbledore died." He grimaced. "We thought we'd found the real thing, for a second."
"So the locket, the cup, and the snake. One more that Professor Dumbledore never figured out. All of them, except the snake, are lost." Luna murmured all sing-song and dreamy, drumming her fingers against the stone in a deceptively upbeat rhythm.
"Bollocks," Ron cursed, shoving his plate away and looking sick. "This could take forever. Dumbledore didn't know anything and he just fucking died, using Snape to off himself. What a bloody git." Hermione warred between amusement and concern at Ron's sudden lack of appetite, and the vitriol towards a Headmaster he'd looked up to. She couldn't remember ever hearing him, or any Weasley for that matter, say a bad word about the bearded headmaster.
"Answers will come in time," Luna said, frowning as she pulled her wand from somewhere in her hair. "No use in blaming those already passed."
"It'll take time." Hermione acknowledged that fully. She'd come to terms with it over the past summer, knowing that her dreams of education, liberating other magical races, and changing the government's prejudice from the inside might have to wait for many, many years. "But that's why we have to be smart. There's plenty of important tasks we can do to help ourselves and other people while we search. More importantly, it'll probably be useless if we're all constantly trying to brainstorm ideas on what the last horcrux might be. We have our main goal, but if all of Wizarding Britain goes to hell and people are constantly getting killed before we finish this, or if some of us get hurt or...die...then everything we do here will all be for nothing."
The silent resolve of her friends surrounds her, and Hermione dared to hope that it wouldn't end the way she'd said. Of course, this was also the moment she began thinking furiously. The idea of separating into separate tasks had appealed to Hermione last night as they sat at this very table, but there had only been minimal thought process in terms of who would do what. To her surprise, Ginny broke the silence, speaking up first.
"Hermione, we all know you're going to do research," she said, a small grin on her face. "I think you should work with Luna."
Are you kidding me? Hermione was ashamed of her first thought a second later. Luna was extremely skilled and perceptive, always seeing things in her own way. The girl always seemed to know things she shouldn't possibly know. I learned not to discount her once already, and I won't forget that.
"I know you've read plenty," Hermione said slowly, opening up to the idea. "Would you like to help me? It'll be a lot of work, and not just limited to horcruxes. There's a lot of magic we need to go over before we have any chance of surviving on the run."
Luna looked incredulous for a moment, as if she couldn't believe Hermione would ever want her help in the realm of knowledge. Ginny looked a little annoyed at her friend.
"Come on, Luna, don't put yourself down," the redhead spoke with a frown. "We all know you're more than just book-smart like other Ravenclaws." She addressed Hermione then. "She doesn't advertise it much, but she probably knows more about old history and legends and obscure magic than anyone else I've ever met. It might be a huge help for the horcruxes, not to mention everything else."
Hermione just smiled, hiding her inner fury at her friend's insecurity and catching the abashed giddiness in Luna's eyes at being praised. Fucking Ravenclaw girls are such cunts, if I wasn't on a most-wanted list I'd give them all the Edgecombe treatment and see how they like it. "Let's do this, I'd love to have your help."
"Thank you." the blonde girl said softly. "I'll find a Snarglepuff to get you some pudding after lunch." Hermione just grinned.
"I have a few things I need to do." Harry spoke suddenly, and Hermione turned to see her friend staring blankly at the table. Something is really bothering him, she frowned, considering. "I'll practice defence again, like the DA. But I need to do research too..." He trailed off, looking awkward and almost ashamed. She felt her stomach squirm at his expression. "...but that's not enough. We need more offensive magic. We can't duel like kids."
"Fuck, mate. We practically are kids." Hermione stared in shock at Ron's outburst, and became aware her mouth was open with his next words. "Oy, stop gaping 'Mione, you know what I mean. We lasted 5 minutes against Death Eaters in the DOM, barely held on long enough for the Order last year. You want to drill us, teach us to really fight together." Ron calmly laid out the facts like pieces on a chess board, and Hermione once again admired him for surprising her and seeing the big picture. If only he hadn't been so single-mindedly focused on Quidditch and chess until mortal peril arrives. She snorted to herself slightly, almost missing Harry's response.
"Yeah I do. Teamwork, speed, and magic. The DA only ever studied magic, and only the bare basics for OWLs. We need more than that - even Dark magic, if we need it."
Neville growled, looking angrier than Hermione had seen since that day he'd thrown himself at Malfoy for a not-so-subtle jab at his parents. "I'm NOT using Dark magic, Harry. I refuse to be like them."
"Then what do you want!" Harry barked back, green eyes blazing. "Do you want to win, or die? Would you rather hit Death Eaters with Jelly-legs Jinxes and Stunning spells, and then watch as their friends just wave a wand and put them back to rights? They'll turn around hit you in the back with a Killing Curse and there'll be nothing you can do to save anyone!"
Her head swung between her friends, wide-eyed and watching the quiet battle between their two gazes like the back-and-forth of a tennis match.
"There has to be a better way than just turning dark! We're not cowards, hurting other people for our own gain." Stubborn and disgusted, Neville gave no ground. Hermione, ever-logical, couldn't make heads or tails of the debate. What do I want? I've studied dark books and magic for weeks. Blood magic is illegal, but my father used it to save my life, even if against my will. Dark magic is technically the only way to destroy a horcrux. And Harry's right, we can't win with stunners. but...
"ENOUGH!"
No one in the room had ever heard Luna Lovegood raise her voice.
Hermione felt the chill in her bones, as if the dreamy girl's magic had suddenly twisted to compel everyone to listen, to remain still. And maybe it did. Like a hoarfrost snap, both the angry boys froze in their seats, staring at the otherwise always-happy girl in disbelief and a good bit of fear.
"We've heard the story of your first year and the troll plenty of times. If Ron had levitated the club a bit higher and crushed its skull, is Wingardium Leviosa suddenly Dark magic?" Neville opened his mouth, but Luna cut him off. He never had a chance. "No. In fact, he's out of control. He'd have done more damage than he meant to. We can't replace Dumbledore, Neville. We're not strong enough to do what he did and offer mercy to everyone along our path. It would be better to fight the troll face-first, intending to hurt it until it stops, rather than praying for a solution. We can't afford luck anymore. We've got to make our own."
"But-"
"Nev," Harry sighs. "I get it. When-" He stopped and cast Ginny a look, frowning. "When I was in the Chamber of Secrets with that Horcrux all those years ago, Voldemort told me that we were similar. Both parselmouths, both orphans, wanting to right the wrongs that happened to us, trying to make things better." His gaze was far off, reminiscing.
"I asked Dumbledore about it later that day after it was over, scared out of my wits that I'd become just like him. He told me 'It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities.' I'm no expert, but I know Dark magic is about intent. We'll fight when we need to, but I know that everyone in this room is a good person and a good friend. We don't enjoy hurting people like he does, like the Lestranges do." He looked at Neville pointedly. "It's how you choose to use it that counts."
"He's right. Three of us in this room would be stripped of their human rights and declared Dark creatures if the Ministry had known of us last year. Were we evil then? There's no Ministry anymore anyway, no laws for us to care about." Luna was not angry anymore, but rather like a crocodile under calm waters. "We only follow the rules of nature, magic, and the mandate to help those who can't help themselves. It's our choice to fight to incapacitate or hurt anyone, especially Death Eaters who'd love to kill others because they're helpless muggles or because they were born from filthy blood."
The awkward quiet is deafening in the aftermath of the rant. Hermione is startled to recognize that she was violently chewing on her lips while watching the conversation take place. Ginny is stone-faced, arms crossed as she watches the drama play out. She suspects that of all of them, Ginny is the least likely to care about methodology. Ron had quietly unloaded to Hermione last night, and how he'd come to terms with his horrified shock at seeing his little sister tear out a Death Eater's throat with her teeth in a calculated bout of rage. Speaking of which, he'd sunk low in his chair, contemplating with a frown as he idly toyed with the few remaining scraps of scrambled eggs on his plate. Neville's angry expression finally breaks, meeting Harry's nervous eyes and Luna's determined glare.
"I trust you," he muttered, sullen, pushing straw-blonde hair away from his eyes. "One step too far...and you'll see much worse than that first year who wanted to stop you three from losing us the House Cup."
"Checks and balances," Hermione interrupted suddenly, giving Neville an assuring nod. "Luna and I might fall too deep into the books too...that's why we want to split up tasks. I agree."
"On that note, I need to mention the other thing I was going to say." Harry grimaced as he looked at Ginny, apologetic. A moment's breath. "I think we need to explore the entirety of the Chamber of Secrets."
Ginny hissed her anger at Harry, and Hermione froze in fear as the redhead's eyes flared a brilliant gold. Next to her Ron sucked in a sharp breath of air, looking queasy.
"Harry..."
"Gin, listen to me," he said, putting his hand on hers. The girl tensed and only bared her teeth, and he flinched away just slightly as they all saw her face. Fangs extending down, gleaming ivory-white. Hermione winced as he plunged on, ignoring the obvious sight before him. "The horcruxes can only be destroyed by basilisk venom and Fiendfyre, as far as we know. We have a ready supply of venom down there. On top of that, the basilisk is extremely valuable. Its skin is stronger than most dragon scales, and its parts are some of the rarest of any creature. We can use it to make spell-resistant material - maybe even weapons and armor, and we can sell parts we can't use if we need money, rather than sneaking into Gringotts."
"There's more than that, too. I think there's a secret passage that leads into the Forbidden Forest. And it was Slytherin's secret hideaway - there may be lost books and knowledge down there, things Tom didn't take with him because he thought himself the only one capable of entering. There might even be important information from his past - or even another horcrux hidden down there, that the diary didn't know about." He finished, pleadingly.
"Then I'm coming with you." She spits, red hair flaring in the sunlight from the windows, eyes burning with poorly suppressed anger.
"Ginny, no-" Ron speaks weakly, looking up. She cuts him off while his mouth is still open.
"Shut up. I need to make peace with this, big brother, and I'm not letting Harry go in there alone."
"We'll go together at first, try to clear out or deactivate any traps or curses," Hermione placates, coming up with the obvious compromise. "There could definitely be something dangerous down there." She's hoping and praying that she can read enough to get that done safely. "Ron, did Bill ever show you any detection and counter-spells from his work as cursebreaker?"
He nodded slowly. "Aye, he did. I can help show you what to look for too."
"Then it's settled. For the first run, we'll go down there together. After that Harry, if you need to harvest the basilisk corpse or find anything else down there, you'll be fine with just one other person or yourself."
"Um, I hate to say this, but you sure there isn't another snake down there?" Neville frowns. Harry stiffens, and clearly he didn't even consider that. Hermione rolls her eyes, but shakes her head decisively.
"Basilisks behave like the king cobra. Unlike most snakes they require a mother's magic and bond, and a nest in order to hatch in the wild. A basilisk that old wouldn't have laid any new eggs for hundreds of years, it would have been hibernating until Tom opened the Chamber again. It's possible to use magic to hatch a dormant egg but otherwise they won't even twitch. If there's eggs down there..."
We could hatch them. The thought is unspoken, but thoroughly disturbing nonetheless. Harry could control them, like Voldemort did for Nagini. She wonders how big it would grow, and then snorts. The rest of the table looks at her in confusion.
"Sorry, just...I was thinking if Harry hatched a basilisk and it started hissing at him saying Mommy."
Ron gaped while Neville and Luna immediately guffawed their amusement. Ginny's lips twitched. Harry was flabbergasted.
"We'll deal with that if it comes to it." He grinned awkwardly. "That's all I was thinking about working on, I could help read if you two need it also."
"I'll do anything related to Herbology, or creatures stuff and potions ingredients if we need." Neville offered up. "Gran had a secret garden and I grabbed all of the plants as I left. I've got enough fluxweed and knotgrass for weeks of Polyjuice, and lots of other stuff too."
"I'll help you catalogue it and shelve it. Along with all those ingredients over there, and we can stock up on healing potions just in case, maybe borrow from Pomfrey's storage." Ginny said, looking up and finally breaking from her anger. She waved her hand at the shelves near the Slytherin corner of the room. "Aside from Hermione I'm the best potions brewer." She turns to Harry. "That Prince book of Snape's is still in here, right? It'll come in handy."
Hermione shrieks a little and everyone jumps up in surprise, as the book seems to fall from the ceiling and lands on the table with a dusty thud. The battered copy of Advanced Potion Making lies on the table, almost mockingly.
"Erm, thanks, Hogwarts?" says Ginny, hesitantly, picking it up. "That wasn't creepy at all."
Ron finally broke from his stewing in the corner. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but I can work with you on the spellwork Harry. Maybe we can find an old Auror Manual and adapt some practices or something." He frowns, laying down his fork. "Luna, you said something that bugs me. You said three of us would be dark creatures according to the Ministry." It's a statement, not a question, but he's obviously fishing for an answer. Hermione frowns. Luna had said that, hadn't she?
The girl blinks, and her dreamy eyes widen. "Oh, sorry Ronald, I was so excited I must have forgotten to mention it? My blood test at Gringotts said that I have Fae blood somewhere in my ancestry."
Neville choked and sputtered midway through a sip of pumpkin juice. "The Fae are real?" Then he broke off, realizing he was sitting at the table with a vampire and half-elf. Too much crazy within the span of only a few days...dark soul magic, different magical races...what the hell are our lives coming to...?
Hermione just gazes at the girl in wonder, trying and failing to process her confusion and curiosity. "Yeah, you should've mentioned that." She realizes a second late her voice sounds dazed, but presses on. "That could explain how you see things we don't, actually. I wonder how that works..."
Ron's mouth is agape again. The poor guy probably had had too many shocks, before snapping out of it. "Because that clears it up. Shit." He muttered, amazed, but cleared his throat. "Anyway, if you teach me those disguise spells I can go out and get news too, maybe even see if I can talk to anyone from the Order."
Ginny growls at him again. "Don't be stupid, you're not going anywhere outside this castle."
"You can't stop me," he groaned with a frown. "And I'm not being stupid. We need to know what's happening, at least to be prepared when we have to leave this place in a month or so."
"Ron," Hermione said suddenly, a thought coming into her head. "How well do you know Knockturn Alley?"
"Um, Hermione, what could you possibly want Ron to do in Knockturn Alley?" Harry looked aghast. "I've been there before, it's all just criminal underground and nasty artifacts."
"Basilisk parts are nasty stuff," she countered with a huff. "And I've been there too, I got the mead there after all. Come on, Harry, we are criminals now, fugitives of the Ministry. Do you think we could just walk into Slug and Jiggers and try to sell them parts of a 5X class beast without questions? What about wands? Ollivander's gone, maybe even dead. What are we supposed to do if we lose a wand in a fight, or it breaks?" She paused, observing them. Thankfully they're not too against the idea. What if...
"What if I told you that Hannah Abbott is in disguise, and working as a bartender in the White Wyvern?"
Neville goes pale instantly as Ginny shoots him a glance. He looks sick, and manages to croak out his disbelief. "Hannah's working at the White Wyvern?"
"I saw her yesterday, I wanted to see if I could find a wandmaker and accidentally stumbled upon her while working. I recognized her through the disguise and left her an altered DA coin that can send messages both ways, and a note so she knew it was me. If anyone knows about secrets and places to go in Knockturn, it's a bartender."
"You're a bloody genius Hermione." Ron grins. "Aye, it might be strange thing to get used to, but I can try to talk to her."
"Wands and holsters too, that's what you were thinking, right Hermione?" Harry leans forward. "It'd be good to have a faster draw, easier to deal with. Moody always complained about putting them in your back pockets." He snorted. "Said it could blow off your arse."
Giggles and laughter all around put them at ease for a moment.
"We can work out the kinks in that idea, but I think that works out just fine." Ron finally looked comfortable, and Hermione realized with a jolt that the redhead had felt worried that he wouldn't be useful. Always trying to live up to something else - he doesn't get it yet, does he? How different he already is? She's wrenched from the thought as Harry stands and his plate vanishes with a pop.
"Let's settle in and started, then." Harry grimaced. "We've all got a lot to do, and not nearly enough time."
AN: Hope you liked that little dream sequence, there's a good chance it'll become more important as we move forward. I'll have written up part of Chapter 10 and 11 by the time this gets posted. I don't want to spoil 10 yet, but in 11 we'll have some more discussions of ideas with Snape (should I include Dumbledore's Last Will and Testament and have Snape take care of it?), maybe idle moments while the crew gets to work, and hopefully I can start up on the first expedition into the Chamber of Secrets.
Something will be found down there but I haven't fully decided on what exactly, if you've got a suggestion then send a review and I'll definitely consider it. That goes also for what Harry eventually uses the basilisk corpse for. I almost definitely won't have a baby basilisk though, just wanted to poke fun at snake-mommy Harry.
No new spells this time.
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