The Twins Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

by whereweleftoff

Following up their dangerous first year at Hogwarts, James Dean and Harry Andrew Potter, alongside their adopted brothers Travis and Brian, prepare for a whole new year at school. However, someone, or something, conspiring to make this year just as wild and wacky as the last, and in order to survive, they'll need to keep their wits ABOOT them, eh... Partial redux of the OG.

12. Chapter 12: Miraculous Madness, Monsters

If you're reading this, much love. After a weekend of homecomings and a Friday the 13th, all I have to say is DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE. For F***'S SAKE THAT IS THE WORST LIFE DECISION YOU COULD MAKE AND NOW MY ARMS ARE SORE FROM CPR!

Anywho… please…

ENJOI

…

So it turns out Harold Andrew Potter, James Dean Potter's twin brother, was a Parseltongue. He can speak the language of snakes, and even exert a certain amount of control over them. After the incident with the dueling club, Harry became Public Enemy Number One and the prime suspect for Slytherin's Heir.

In the Midwest of the United States of America, there was a phrase that summed up everything James had to say on the matter, as well as his feelings about the revelation:

OPE.

He didn't get a chance to talk to Harry that night, as Hermione and Ron had nabbed his twin and all but carried him away from the scene, leaving everyone in a complete state of shock or anger. In fact, because it was a weekend and there were no classes the next day, James didn't even get a chance to see or talk to him then, either.

"I just wanna talk to him," James urged as Percy crossed his arms, blocking their path into Gryffindor Tower.

"No."

"I just wanna talk to him," James reiterated calmly.

"You can't talk to him."

"I just wanna talk to my brother," James repeated in a monotone voice.

"Leave him alone."

"You leave him alone! That's my brother, my twin! You can't keep me away from him! You literally just let Padma in five minutes ago!"

"Her twin didn't just speak to a snake."

"This is bull, Percy! This is discrimination! Its- its- its-"

"It's sexism, really," Travis added stoically.

"Yes, that's it! SEXISM! You're discriminating against me because I'm a GUY!"

"... Get out of here, Potter."

All day Sunday, James was the subject of abuse. The rumor mill swirled about Harry being the Heir, and the reason why he was hiding in his dorm was because he knew he'd been found out and didn't want to be attacked. Of course, James, being the twin, was the next best thing for people to take their anger out on.

Surprisingly, Malfoy and the rest of Slytherin spent all day denying and downright fighting people on the rumors. There was no way the heir to their house was a Gryffindor, they argued, and no way the kid who fought off the Dark Lord could possibly be one who would do his dirty work. It felt weird, having them defend him, but the more they did, the more it started to make sense to the more rational members of the school. As it stood, Hufflepuff was now a house divided, ripped between hating the Potters and wondering if it really was them to begin with at all.

"I know it wasn't you two, Bezzie," Bem told James at lunch, the large, portly black kid nodding sagely as he piled a generous portion of potatoes on his plate. "You all are good folk, and good folk can come from bad places or bad people who can talk to snakes."

"Thanks, Bem," James gave him a small smile, but still picked at his food with a sick look of worry on his face as he looked around at all the angry and odd stares he was getting. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, but his usual veneer of not caring what people thought of him was shaken by the fact that this was different; they weren't fawning over him as one of The Boys Who Lived, but as a vile, repulsive, bloodthirsty demon.

To get his mind off things, James decided to research and learn a whole host of spells he saw used during Lockhart's botched Dueling Club meeting. He found "Protego," a shield charm that blocked many magical attacks as well as physical onslaughts, which Kiara seemed to pick up rather quickly. He also came across the Blasting Curse, "Confringo," which was as deadly and difficult to master as it sounded. James, Travis, Brian, and Kiara spent the rest of the afternoon and early outside on the edge of the Forbidden Forest practicing their dueling skills, gleefully avoiding the drama inside the castle.

By Monday, the tides had turned back and forth on the school wide argument. Harry had finally come out of his room, but that only caused a fresh wave of "There he is, he's the Heir," comments. James knew Harry was now struggling, hell James was still suffering. Travis, Brian, Kiara, and he had to fend off three separate attack attempts from angry students that morning already, and while it boiled James's blood to no end, he continued to play the victim to the professors, who put all the would-be attackers in detention.

He was starting to get sick of letting discretion be the better part of valor.

At lunch, Harry was late, but silently urged James and company to move to the Gryffindor table. Acquiescing, James led his brothers and Kiara to the new table and sat down across the table from the Golden Trio. Ron ate quietly and slowly, Hermione looked sick, shifting her gaze from her untouched food to Harry to James and back, and James just let Harry think about what he was going to say.

"I didn't know," he finally blurted out.

"I know," James nodded. "Considering the fact you looked as shocked as everyone else, I think it's a given."

"I was telling it to back off. To get away."

"I figured," James agreed simply. "Considering the fact that it went from pissed to running away, I would say that was a given."

"You're the only one who seems to think so."

"The Slytherins all seem to think so," James pointed out. "They've actually switched gears, been telling anyone off for even considering you're behind all this nonsense."

"That's… surprising," Harry admitted, looking sick at the prospect that Slytherin house, of all the houses, would be the one defending him.

"Right?" James scoffed.

"And we believe you, too," Hermione added, putting her hand on Harry's shoulder.

"It's possible Slytherin is denying it because they all know who the real heir is," Ron jumped in.

"Possible, which we will find out over break," James told him deflating his zeal a bit. "I doubt they, as a whole group, know more than anyone else, though. If any of them know, they are probably keeping it to themselves or in small group."

"Like Malfoy's gang?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Like Malfoy's gang," James said placatingly.

"Right," Ron nodded, feeling affirmed. "Just like Malfoy's gang."

"I can't get over the way he looked at me," Harry murmured into his soup.

"Oh, for the love of-" Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head, then. "Then go find him, talk to him."

"Him?" Travis asked, confused.

"Fletchley," Ron and Hermione both answered, looking angry.

"Oh."

"I wouldn't recommend it," James added, soothingly. "He's an idiot, but he's still a person, and persons have, you know, person feelings and such."

"'Person feelings and such'?" Travis laughed derisively.

"I think what James is trying to say is that if you confront him, he is going to feel like a cornered dog, and it won't end well," Kiara said to patch what James had word vomited. "He's not going to take you running him down very well, and he won't listen. You should just give it time?"

James nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, what she said. He's just scared, like everyone else, only he had to face a big freaking snake last night that was going to hurt him. As a muggleborn, he feels singled out, by you specifically. Let your actions do the talking for now, and let the truth win out."

"But he hates me," Harry whined nearly in tears, deflating into his seat and looking down. "Everyone hates me."

"Screw 'em," James shrugged and reached across the table, slapping him on the shoulder. "We're the ones whose opinions matter, so flip 'em the bird, and keep being Harry Freaking Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Not So Great At Getting Away With Pranks Little Brother."

Harry scowled. "Ten minutes. You came out ten minutes sooner than me, that doesn't make me your little brother!"

"Ten minutes means I'm older," James laughed. "Besides, technically, by law, Travis and Brian are our adopted brothers, so that means we're little brothers to them, too."

Harry nodded and laughed, but it disappeared again as he again fell quiet and pensive.

"What is it now?" Kiara asked gently. "I'm not trying to sound rude or even intrude, but…"

"But I'm a Gryffindor. The Hat put me in Gryffindor, right?"HJhHat

"Yeah," James laughed. "Being able to talk to snakes doesn't mean you should be in Slytherin, assuming that's what you mean."

"It is," Harry affirmed, biting his lip and looking scared of what he was about to admit. "Because… it wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"It let you choose?" Brian asked, coming out from the clouds and into the conversation. "That's weird…"

"How is it weird?" James asked, incredulous.

"Because that isn't what I was shown."

"Show-what, dude?" James demanded, looking even more confused and frustrated. "Are you okay, my guy?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're spacing out more than usual," Travis said with a shake of his head. "You're also saying weird crap like what you just said, like all the time."

"You do seem to be acting strange," Hermione contributed, a worried look covering her face. She gave James a look that said 'If there's a better time than any.'

"I hadn't noticed," Brian said, already looking off in the distance…

"Hey!" James barked, snapping his fingers in front of Brian's face. "You had been doing so well with the daydreaming up until recently, what's the issue?"

Brian flushed and looked away as he came back to reality. "I-er, I don't wanna talk about it."

James and Harry shared a deep look of concern, one that was mirrored on Travis's and Hermione's own. Ron looked as confused as Kiara, and they kept quiet. James steeled himself, as he and Hermione again shared a look. He gulped, as he was about to do something he swore he'd never do, but…

"Dude," he said, turning to Brain again. "We need you here, now, in the present, yeah? If there's something going on, we could help you-"

"Don't," Brian cut him off. "You're not Mom, don't try to be her."

"I'm not trying to be Mom, I'm trying to be your brother."

"Then be a brother!" Brian screeched, his black eyes losing their foggy dullness and sharpening into orbs of fierce, angry black focus as he pounded his fists on the table and stood. "Lemme figure it out!"

"Figure what out?" Hermione asked. "We can help-"

"The VISIONS!" Brian roared, spit flying from his mouth as he shook. "YOU CAN'T HELP ME, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT I SEE!"

Everyone in the Great Hall was left silent and confused as Brian stormed out, knocking over a poor, loopy looking blond haired Ravenclaw girl on his way out. She looked familiar, but James paid her little attention as he chewed on his lip and wondered just what the hell happened, and what was happening to Brian.

"Did he say visions?" Ron asked, looking more lost than ever.

…

"So anyway," Ernie MacMillan said, a little too loudly that evening in the library, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while, right? Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton, that really nice muggle boarding school in Windsor? That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it's the Potters, then, Ernie?" Hannah Abbott asked anxiously, chewing her bottom lip and looking around for any trace of the Potters, not even realizing they were sitting three tables behind them. Harry looked to be holding back tears and was shaking as he tried to finish his final potions essay, whereas Hermione and Kiara had given up entirely and were rubbing his back in an effort to calm him down. Travis had frozen, the tip of his quill pooling an ink blot on his parchment. James and Ron had both set their quills down, and were red in the face, and any passive observer would be correct in guessing they were seeing red, as well.

"Hannah," Wayne Hopkins replied, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "He's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent person who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. James Potter has had nothing but run-ins with Filch, ever since we all started here last year. Next thing we know, Filch's cat is attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying and stalking both of them since the beginning of the year, and at the Quidditch match, he was taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud and when his arm bones disappeared. Next thing we know — Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said a girl named Leanne uncertainly, looking between Hannah, Ernie, and a quiet Susan Bones. "And, well, they're the ones who made You-Know-Who disappear. Harry and James can't be that bad, can they?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, but even from three tables away, anyone could hear Ernie's next words. "No one knows how they survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, they were only babies when it happened. They should have been blasted into smithereens, and what happened instead? They're mother becomes a cripple, James disappears to America of all places, and then one of their parent's best friends ends up missing. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that and do that much 'collateral damage.'" He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You- Know-Who wanted to kill them in the first place. Didn't want a pair of Dark Lords competing with him. I bet they had a hand in what happened to their mother… I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

That was it. James and Ron both lost their composure and with slammed fists, they both pounded the table and stood, making to march their way to the Hufflepuffs. Travis tried to stop James, and Hermione tried to hold Ron back, but they slipped out of their respective grasps. Wayne, Susan, and Leanne noticed them and balked, looking like deer caught in the headlights as Ron laid a hand on Ernie's shoulder and whipped him around in his seat, balling Ernie's collar in his fist and pulling him forward.

"Ron, no!" Hermione cried in protest, but it was too late.

"Ron, yes," James hissed in appreciation. "Don't listen to her. I got ya back, pally."

"That's my best mate you're talking about there," Ron thundered into the now sheet white face of MacMillan. Even Pince looked too scared to shush him, and she merely chose to ignore the encounter and hide behind her desk.

"And you seriously think we hurt our mother?" James laughed at him over Ron's shoulder, sneering at the taller Hufflepuff boy. "What the actual hell is wrong with you? Has your petty gossip gotten so shameless that you'd suggest I would stoop to hurting my own family, on purpose, when I was still just a baby?"

"We were with Harry and James the night Norris got petrified, Ernie," Ron told him in a dangerously low tone of voice. "There's no way either James or him could have done it. And the night Creevey got hit? Harry was locked up in the Hospital Wing, regrowing his bones while James and his brothers were in the Gryffindor Common room, with us. How could he open the Chamber when they weren't even there to begin with?"

"I-I-I don't-"

"It's called an 'alibi', MacMillan," James huffed. "You would know that if you spent more time reading and less time jabbering and spreading hysterics about shit you know nothing about."

"Look at him, Ernie," Ron wheeled the Hufflepuff around to look at a sobbing Harry, who now had his head buried in Hermione's chest, while she and Emma glared at him. "He was trying to tell that snake to back off, to leave Justin alone."

"And it's not like we don't get it," James pointed out, holding up a finger. "We do. It does look bad, from an ignorant point of view, but if you add an ounce of rationality to it, you'd realize that Harry made that snake docile and slither away when it was about to attack your friend."

"He's… got a point, there," Susan said shyly, obviously afraid to speak out against her group.

"It does make sense," Hannah agreed.

"But parseltongues are evil-" Wayne tried to rationalize, but was cut off by James slamming the table and leering at him.

"Prove it," James challenged. "Show me evidence, empirical data. You telling me the great Merlin was evil, too?"

"Leave Harry and James's names out of your mouth," Ron warned, letting Ernie's collar go with a shove and patted his balled fist. "Or I'll replace your words with my fist. Got it?"

"I love how much of a good influence I am on you," James whispered as they made their way back to their table and started gathering their stuff. He raised his voice just loud enough so that the Hufflepuffs could hear him. "C'mon, Hare, we'll go study in Gryffindor Tower. We'll curl up in your favorite spot, where ignorant imbeciles can't instigate incendiary idiocracy."

"Right," Harry nodded, pulling himself out of Hermione's hug and squeezing Kiara's hand before gathering his things. The rest followed suit, and they filed out of the library and made the solitary trek back to the Gryffindor commons, nobody saying a word as they marched.

…

Moonlight scattered across the sheets of ice covering the lake as Brian stared down into the opaque black depths. Staring at it may be a bit misleading as really, he wasn't seeing the water, or hearing the breeze, or even smelling the freshly powdered snow from his vantage point atop Ravenclaw Tower. He had the foresight to bundle up before climbing to the roof of his house's peak, but even then, he didn't feel the iciness cutting through his layers or skin down to the bones.

In his daydreaming, he was seeing the school, in its entirety, as it was; warm, bright, happy, and welcoming, filled with magic and joy and opportunity. It held smiling faces and screams of triumph, the bitter taste of failure and the drive to try again. He saw Travis, worse for wear in his face and missing his right leg but smiling as he and a girl whose face he couldn't see but fielding a familiar shade of brown hair curl up with each other in Ravenclaw Tower. He saw Harry and Ginny, smiling and laughing as they danced in a ballroom, dressed in finery and looking older, wiser, but content.

Uncle Sirius, wheeling a crying Lily down a boardwalk on a familiar Isle of Wight beach boardwalk, both of them looking into the sunset as Sirius took his mother's hand and for what for seemed like the first time in a long time, cried. He saw a familiar woman, tattered and beaten in war-torn clothes huddling a baby with hair that changed colors randomly, crying as she hugged her child tight and screamed into the night air, all alone. He saw Hermione being successful in some black-tiled office, smiling as she took a moment to spare a look at a picture of an older, more grizzled Ron, who, dressed in a cheap suit and tie, walked into her office with a dozen roses.

He saw McGonagall, now the Headmistress, cheerily welcoming new students to Hogwarts as Flitwick lined them up for their Sorting. He saw glimpses, glimmerings, a scant few images of a group of rocker dudes, of which Brian himself was a part of, back to back on a massive stage playing their hearts out. A pretty young girl with black hair and green eyes, squealing and running towards him screaming, "Uncle Brian!" A young, prim and proper dark skinned boy with curly blonde hair and sky-blue eyes, stiffening his upper lip as he adjusted his Ravenclaw tie as he pinned a Head Boy pin to his chest before turning to kiss his mother.

He saw more and more faces, most happy, some sad, some downright in the darkest places of their lives, but they were all alive, well, and older. It made him happy to see them all living their lives, succeeding, or learning from their failures. But he was getting worried, as he wasn't seeing James. He stayed afloat in his daydream, not daring to try and force it and break the flow of the storiesthe Lady of Fate was showing him.

Then he finally saw James. James Dean Potter, an unfamiliar sword in one hand, a staff in the other, dressed in a weird set of leather armor, with a full-faced motorcycle helmet hanging from a belt. James had his back turned, looking over his shoulder at an unfamiliar blonde woman dressed in a blue and white dress, before looking back out at the horizon. It was all bright white light, but the light toned down as the sun crested the horizon and revealed a demolished but still standing Hogwarts, from the vantage point of one of the surrounding mountains. People were milling about and cheering, or crying, or yelling. Faintly, Brian heard a distant voice say, "The Dark Lord is dead! We're free!"

The blonde woman smiled a small but happy smile and wrapped her arms around James's waist and kissed him on the cheek. James turned his upper half into her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, planting a firm, wet kiss on her lips and grinned. Brian could see his eyes, now, and they looked… old. He was obviously only a teenager, and was stouter, taller, and better built, but his eyes didn't belong on the face of a late teen. They belonged… they looked… they looked a bit like Dumbledore's.

"Looks like you really did it after all, Caster," the woman, who looked to be about James's age said. Her green eyes glittered in the dawning sunlight, as the breeze flitted the blue bow that kept her hair pulled up. "It wasn't a bad dream after all."

"No," James smiled, a stoic expression that didn't quite reach those hardened, wizened hazel eyes. "It is real. Guess I didn't go crazy out there, after all…"

"Briton has a future," she replied, keeping her arms wrapped around him as she looked out into the horizon. The way she said 'Britain' as 'Briton' was odd, and Brian couldn't quite place the accent in the way she said it, but it was different than the rest of her average American accent. "It warms my heart, darling."

"So long as Redtail's pure heart beats…" James muttered and put a hand to his chest as if he was quoting something. Where his hand rested over his armor was a hole, as if made by a dagger or the tip of a sword, and Brian felt a pang in his chest, as if he himself had been stabbed, but the pain was dulled by dissociation. "I guess that means as long as I am alive, the Wizarding World should have nothing to worry about."

"Me either, in that case," the woman giggled, but it was the giggle of somebody who had never giggled before, like she was trying the laugh out for the first time.

"I've never heard you giggle before," James chuckled deeply as the woman blushed. "It's cute, keep doing it, and maybe this bright future can stay that way."

Despite the corniness of what he was seeing, it filled Brian's soul with hope to see that James Dean Potter, his beloved brother, had crafted such a future, if only in Brian's rambling daydreams. Brian heaved a sigh as the image drifted away, and he silently bid whatever future James had with the mysterious blonde woman good luck and hoped that it would come to pass.

But were they really just daydreams? His mind asked the question, nagging at his soul for an answer. The rational part of his brain wanted so desperately to think so, but the number of times his soul showed his brain that something was going to happen while in this fugue state was too high to be mere coincidence. It wasn't always right, but damned if it wasn't right more often than not.

These thoughts, these queries his brain asked his soul, made the image of a successful and happy Hogwarts disappear into wisps of smoke in his mind's eye. Replaced was a darkness, a more... recent darkness, a current darkness that seemed to be permeating the very stone foundations the castle was built upon. Icy tendrils of dread tingled Brian's spine as he felt, more than heard, the hunger that had been haunting his dreams ever since Halloween night. A small, diminutive form, bathed in shadow, pointed to him, to it, and like a compulsion, a need to obey, he lurched forward.

Hunger, it, the thing Brian was now, screamed internally. I'm hungry! Need... to kill... need... to feed!

Tears fell down Brian's cheeks and turned to ice in the wind as the horrifying thoughts and feelings cascaded over him like winter waves crashing against a cliff face. He could his body being forced into what felt like a pipe, him being propelled only by the movement of his stomach and the wiggling of his back. It hurt, it reeked, and it felt so... degrading, to have to travel that way. He didn't know why he had to, why he couldn't just be free to move as he pleased. It was agony, a torturous, painful, millenia-long suffering that he'd endured, having to hunt and feed on vermin and listen to the commands of another pitiful being.

Suddenly, there was light, and it blinded him as he fell onto the cold, rough, hard ground of aged, yellow granite stone. Brian's eyes- or rather, the creature Brian was seeing through's eyes- seared from the sudden intensity, and but narrowing them into slits made it bearable as they adjusted.

The air smelled of smoke and stone, but there was, yes, there was just a hint of it. Brian managed to separate himself enough from this creature to realize that the smell that got it excited was not something he himself should feel elated over; it was the smell of a person.

Yes, yes! The creature's mind roared. Finally, real food! Through the creature's nose, Brian could smell who they were, a vague image of a face, pale, with dark, immaculately cut and styled hair, dark brown eyes and chubby face-

Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Brian recoiled mentally from the revelation, which in turn almost made him slip off the ice-covered roof. Being jarred from the vision, Brian steadied himself even as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He knew, deep down to the core of his being, that what he just saw wasn't merely a vision, it was an occurrence, happening as he sat there.

But what could he do? Brian cursed as he sat there, staring as his hands trembled and his heart started hammering in his chest. He was just a kid, a prankster throwing parler tricks to combat boredom! There wasn't anything he could do against this monster.

He needed help, but... the only ones who he could turn to all thought he was going crazy, that he needed a shrink. Besides, James and Harry and Travis or even Hermione were about as powerless as he was to fight this thing. If only he was more powerful, knew better spells!

If only... if only he was Dumbledore.

That's IT! He thought victoriously. Dumbledore would help! He knew at least something about this monster, and he was the most powerful wizard ever! Brian yanked himself up, not even bothering to stretch his frost bitten and stiff muscles before slipping down to the window he'd crawled out of.

It was just around eight o'clock, which meant that while the castle was technically winding down for the night, it wasn't past curfew just yet, so he could run and not worry about consequences. Emerging into his shared dorm, he began shucking his layers as he ran, scaring Michael Corner and Bem in the process.

"Damn, Bezzie, where you going?" Bem asked him. "Where you out on the roof this entire time?!"

Their cries and questions about what he was doing were ignored as he ripped off jackets and sweaters and left them in his wake as he sprinted down into the commons.

Samhain al-Fulani saw him coming and tried to intercept him, stop him from his warpath, but Brian scowled and shoved past the prefect, who flew backwards into the wall and gasped at Brian's audacity. Brian didn't bother replying, hell, he didn't even bother to take the ladder, opting to merely drop down to the bottom of the entrance, crouching and rolling as he landed. The door swung open on its own, and before al-Fulani could even react further, Brian was gone, sprinting down the stairs towards the Gargoyle corridor.

He hoped beyond hope that Dumbledore hadn't changed the password to his office since the start of term, where his vision showed him McGonagall going into his office. Brian made it to the entrance to the headmaster's tower in minutes and screamed as he approached the ugly old gargoyle halfway down the hall, "Lemon drop! LEMON DROP!"

"CORRECT, CORrECT!" the gargoyle responded, yelling back at him before dropping in a spiral, opening the staircase to the Headmaster's Tower. "WHY ARE WE YELLING?"

"Thank you!" Brian hollered as he started bolting up the steps to the Headmaster's suite.

"You're welcome!" the gargoyle responded. "So nice to finally have a guest with manners..."

Brian would have laughed at this under normal circumstances, but as it stood, he was on a mission. He made it to the top, tripping as his foot caught on the sill of the top stair, but managed to keep his balance by thrusting himself into the threshold. Not even taking a second to regain his composure, he stumbled through the waiting area that he, along with his brothers, had waited in at the start of the year and slammed his way through Dumbledore's door.

"Oh!" Professor Dumbledore yelped as he did, flipping his chair around in surprise as Brian fell through it. "Mr. Gates? How did you-"

"Professor Dumbledore!" Brian screamed manically as he attempted to get his footing, but he merely floundered in his desperation.

"That's me," Dumbledore replied, his shocked visage turning amicable and nonchalant almost immediately as he stood and helped Brian get up. "Calm down, son, what's the matter?"

"No time," Brian wheezed. "No time, Professor, we need to move, now! The Chamber is open, I saw it! The monster is going to attack!"

Dumbledore's face darkened and he frowned at Brian. "How do you know this?"

"I saw it!" Brian explained, pointing at his head. "I saw it here!"

Dumbledore cocked his head.

"I'm not crazy, Dumbledore, please believe me when I say it's happening right now and if we don't move Justin Flatchley is going to die and-"

"Take me there, Brian. Take me there right now."

Brian stared at the Headmaster in disbelief, but only for a moment before grabbing the old man's wrist and dragged him, as fast as the Headmaster could go, out of the portal and down the stairs.

"Tell me more about what you saw," Dumbledore ordered as he let the Ravenclaw lead him. "You were there?"

"N-no," Brian stuttered, but didn't let his bashfulness slow his stride. "I was on top of Rvaenclaw tower, letting the-"

"What, Brian?" Dumbledore asked, gently prodding him. "Tell me what happened."

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Brian muttered, stiffening his upper lip. "Like everyone else."

"I dare say, son, that I'm a fair shake away from being like anyone else. You saw these in your daydreams, haven't you?"

Brian spared the Headmaster a sideways look of suspicion, but nodded.

"I see," Dumbledore nodded and gave him an understanding smile. "There are some gifts certain people are granted- whether by birth, or the product of circumstance, that allow them to accomplish things that others would consider to be in the realm of fantasy, Mr. Gates. I have a sneaking suspicion you have at your disposal a gift, one that you, after the past few months, might consider to be a curse."

Brian's face went stoic as he mulled the headmaster's words, before stuttering to a complete stop. He turned back to Dumbledore, who gasped lightly at what he saw, and muttered. "It's happening. We're too late, Headmaster. Justin... He's frozen, just like that rest. Sir Nicholas…"

What Dumbledore saw was Brian's eyes, the once black, foggy pools turned inextricabaly white, milky orbs. Pupiless and unseeing as a blind man, but seeing a thing of a whole different sort. Dumbledore himself had only ever seen such a sight once before in his long life, and after that ezperience, he knew his suspicions were confirmed.

Dumbledore's eyes drooped in sadness as he and Brian, whose eyes slowly returned to normal, mourned their failure. As Brian's vision returned, his eye caught sight of a marching line of spiders, an army's worth, fleeing the scene like war-torn refugees, across the floor, up the wall, and through the cracks in a near desperate bid to flee the grave and disturbing scene that lay awaiting them further down the hall.

Darkness then overtook Brian's soul as he was once again shoved into that tube face first. His mind was cursing from being denied a meal, and the last image Brian saw before darkness befell his vision was a blurred image of himself and Dumbledore through the kaleidoscope body of a ghost, hand in hand, watching as he faded away…

…

The evening had brightened considerably for the group as congregating in the Gryffindor Common Room had allowed them to use laughter and jokes to clear the events of the day from their minds. Kiara and Hermione were giggling as Ron and Travis goofily re-enacted their Quidditch highlights from over the summer by using a fire poker and an ash bucket as props. James stayed quiet and watched the madness unfold, keeping a close eye on Harry while also sitting deep in thought, the other half of his mind worried sick about Brian.

Their resident bard had been missing all day since his blow up in the Great Hall at lunch, absconding from classes and not showing his face to anyone ever since. James hoped he hadn't managed to do anything stupid, or worse, end up somewhere stupid because his brain was out in Cloud 9. The thought of him falling through ice on the lake or being taken prisoner by centaurs in the black forest ran through James's mind like nightmares, and he scared himself sick thinking of what could possibly happen to his occasionally dunder-headed best friend.

"Hey," Hermione whispered to him. She must've gotten up and sat next to him on the loveseat while he was spaced out, because he didn't recall her getting up. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed gently, and he let her, feeling reassured by her warmth. "He'll be okay, you know?"

"I hope so," James muttered, arching an eyebrow faintly and scowling. "Ever since he was brought to the orphanage, it was me and Travis who looked out for him. He was always just... out there, y'know, always looking off into space. He'd walk into a woodchipper given half a chance and a good daydream, and we were the only ones who cared enough to keep him safe."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, turning in the seat towards him and putting her hands on her lap.

"Well, you see, just like us, everyone treated him like he was a freak at the orphanage. They all were religious. You know they type, you came from a muggle upbringing; magic is evil, the things they do are of the devil, that kind of Salem Witch Trial nonsense. Mother Agnes never treated us poorly, hell, she loved us, but she couldn't control what the priests, other nuns, or even what the other kids did."

"That sounds... awful," Hermione whispered.

James screwed his face in distaste at the memories. "It was worse. The abuse some of the kids endured was just... I remember it all. I have to, because of the perfect recall and all. But everything the nuns and priests did to the other kids, it rolled downhill. We were treated terribly by the other kids because the nuns and priests wanted nothing to do with us."

"Seriously?" Hermione muttered, looking sad but angry at the same time. "They're supposed to care for the kids- what did they do, exactly?"

A flash of memory, a boy crying and screaming as he limped back to the boys dorm, flashed across James's mind, making him shiver. "Trust me, you don't want details. It was a Catholic orphanage, you figger out the rest."

"Right... so, is this what Brian endured?"

"No. Hell no, if anyone at the orphanage had so much as touched a hair on that kid's head, Travis 'n I'd kill 'em. No, what he endured was worse. It was his family. That's all I know, 'Mione. That his family was evil and screwed him up."

"Is that why he's so..." she waved her hands in front her eyes.

"Yeah. He daydreams to get away from the pain of everyday existence. You don't see it because he's always dressed up in long sleeve shirts and everything, but he's got a lotta scars. I mean, I get it, he came from a terrible place, and was treated so awfully that even now he can't bring himself to tell anyone what he'd endured and getting away from reality is the only way he's ever been able to cope. Mom's been working with him on that, and he's been doing so good."

"Maybe with everything going on lately, he's having too much reality exposure."

"I thought that, too, but there's something else going on... You've heard the weird crap he's been saying. 'The visons told me you'd say that,' or 'I didn't see that this morning.'"

"You think he's going crazy."

James shook his head. "No. I know him. I know he has some sorta… talent? I think, however, that whatever he's going through is far worse than just losing his marbles."

"Mister Potter!" McGonagall's commanding voice cut through the cozy atmosphere of the Common Room, and soon, everyone fell quiet as James and Harry turned. McGonagall, still dressed in her robes but looking disheveled, marched in, Flitwick not far behind her. "Ah, James, Travis, you're here too. Good. I need you three to follow me, please."

"What's going on," James demanded, his mind immediately defaulting to the worst possible scenario. He bolted up and sprinted to her staring her in the eyes with a mad gleam. "Is he okay? Tell me he's okay,"

"He's fine," McGonagall soothed, losing the edge to her voice and walking up to him to put a hand on his shoulder. "There's been an incident, however, and we need you three in the Headmaster's office immediately."

"If there's been an incident then we're going to him, not Dumbledore," Travis stated simply, setting his jaw and getting ready for an argument.

"Then you will come with us to Professor Dumbledore's office, because that's where he is."

James and Travis shared shocked looks, and turned to Harry, who looked like he was going to be sick.

"Lead the way, then," James shrugged after turning back to her. "He's not in trouble, is he?"

"Oh, good heavens no," Flitwick responded as he wiped his brow. "On the contrary, he might just be-"

"Not here, Filius," McGonagall ordered, looking at the other students and shooing them. "Back to your business, mind your own! Now, boys, follow me."

Ron, Hermione, and Kiara stood up to follow, as well, but McGonagall gave them a hard stern look. "Not you. This is a Potter family matter."

"Miss Kennedy," Flitwick said, motioning to her to come forward.

"Y-Yes, Professor?" she asked timidly, scared of what he had to say.

"Now, now, child, you're not in trouble. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for you to stay here, in Gryffindor, if only for tonight. For your own safety, yes?"

"Safety?" Ron asked. "There's been another-"

"Not. Another. Word. Mr. Weasley," McGonagall stated as concisely as she could. "Miss Granger, please assist Miss Kennedy in finding appropriate accommodations for the evening, and then you'd all best be off to bed. James, Harry, Travis, please follow me."

Ron and Hermione grumbled and looked put off, but Harry assured them everything would be fine, and they set off. James had about a million questions banging around in his head, but all of them centered around Brian. He knew in the back of his head that there had been another attack, hell, it was implied by the conversation they just had, but he didn't care. She said he was alright, so that couldn't mean he was the one attacked, right?

Or maybe he was attacked? He just managed to get away, then, right? Or maybe he was "alright," in the fact that he was petrified? The thought made James's stomach flip. Or maybe... no, he wasn't the one behind all of this. Brian was, out the three of them, the most sensitive and in touch with his emotions, he couldn't bring himself to harm another person, it'd completely ruin his entire psyche. So why? Why did the professors have to be so cloak and dagger?!

James wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted answers and he wanted them now, but with how the two Heads of their respective Houses were walking, briskly, but with their heads on a swivel, told him that acting like a brat and having a temper tantrum wouldn't get him anywhere. So, he kept his mouth shut and bounced his fist on his thigh nervously as they marched, enduring the torturously thunderous silence.

The entire castle was quiet. Even at this time of night, you'd hear Prefects patrolling, ghosts whispering in the night as they meandered the halls, or even Peeves' distant laughter. Not even the many animated portraits, who would sleep and snore and make noise were in their usual sleeping spaces. As they walked past, James noticed that they were all, in fact, wide awake, watching the group as they passed and not speaking a word.

It was like the entire castle was dead.

…

Brian and Dumbledore stared at each other as Brian sucked on the acid pop the headmaster had given him. His mother was talking as she was wheeled up next to him, talking about the work she and he had been putting in to help him through his mental issues. It was all stuff he'd heard before. It was all "Coping mechanisms," and "Never showed any significant sign of traumatic stress that indicated violent behavior." It galled him to hear his own adoptive mother speak about him like a test subject, but he was wise enough to know that wasn't really how she saw him. She was just being professional so she could explain to the Headmaster he wasn't, in fact, a psychopath.

He knew this to be true because even as she talked to Dumbledore, her hand stayed panted firmly on his in his lap, squeezing it tightly, the way any mother would to comfort her hurt child. The act itself made him feel better, much the way the acid pop was settling his no longer churning stomach.

"-I'm telling you, Professor," Lily reiterated again. "There's no way he could have possibly-"

"Lily," Dumbledore cut her with a kind smile. "I don't think Brian, or any of the boys, for that matter, are responsible."

"The notion that they are is- you don't?"

"No, I don't," Dumbledore affirmed, watery blue eyes twinkling as he sat back and reclined his chair. "I called you and James here tonight because, well... I wanted you to be here while Brian and I discuss the matter he brought before me earlier, and to possibly shed some light on what is going on. You see... I believe Mr. Gates here has a particular gift known to be quite rare among even the most powerful of wizards and witches across the world."

"A gift?" James Sr. asked, concern written over his face. "What kind of gift?"

"Well, James, this evening, I was enjoying a nice spot of tea," Dumbledore started, motioning to the front of his now stained robes. "When Mr. Gates here burst into my office, screaming that he'd seen the Chamber of Secrets open and that a particular student he knew was in danger."

James and Lily's eyes bulged as they turned and stared at the now blushing Brian.

"What were you doing out there by yourself?" James hissed, more worried than angry.

"I wasn't there," Brian defended, shrinking into his defensively. "I was on top of Ravenclaw Tower when I saw it."

"So this Chamber of Secrets we keep hearing about is outside?" Lily asked.

"No, it's inside... I don't know where, but I swear I saw it."

"You're not making sense, Brian," Lily shook her head.

"No, I didn't see it," Brian said pointing at his eye. He tapped his temple and pointed at his head. "I saw it. In my head."

James... looked at him like he was crazy.

"I'm not crazy!"

"No one is saying you're crazy, Brian," Dumbledore chuckled. "Calm down. You see, Lily, James, there are certain witches and wizards who can... shall we say, see the future?"

"Seers," James muttered. "Many want to be one, to the point of faking it, but those who really are-"

"Rarely want to be one," Lily finished, looking at Brain with sadness, hugging him to her suddenly as she now understood the implications.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed partially while bobbing his head side to side as if looking for a better answer. "But also no. I think this is a peculiar and unique case that doesn't quite fall into any known, currently understood category."

"What do you mean."

"Well, Seers typically cannot choose where or when they receive prophesies. They come to them when Lady Fate, as Brian dubbed it, deems it so. Thing is, prophesies are always on the money, at the very least from a certain point of view when reflected on in hindsight. When Mr. Gates crashed into my office this evening, he wasn't seeing a prophesy, he was seeing what was happening right now, and what he saw was a student named Justin Finch Fletchley be attacked by the same monster that attempted to take the lives of Argus Filch's cat and Colin Creevey, previously."

Silence reigned as Lily and James took in the information, and they shared worried looks, as if they were afraid to ask the next logical question.

"Yes, James," Dumbledore affirmed. "It was true. Brian led me straight to the scene of the crime, and all evidence at the scene suggests it had been done way too recently for the boy to have done it, come and get me, and then lead me back to it. The poor lad who was attacked was lucky enough, like the two before him, to have not been killed by whoever-"

"Whatever," Brian corrected matter of factly. "It... it wasn't a person, it was something else. I... kinda saw everything from its point of view, like... I was a part of it. It made me sick, feeling like it, but it was angry and pent up and wanted to eat. I dunno what it was, I never saw its reflection, I just know that it was cramped and uncomfortable and angry and it wasn't a person."

"Of course," the headmaster conceded, holding up his hands. "But I can see you two are still dubious; Brian, why don't you tell your parents everything else you told me?"

"Really?" Brian asked, looking unsure. Dumbledore gave him an assuring nod and waved his hands at him to continue. "Okay, well, uh... you guys know I daydream right? Well, like I told Mom, sometimes, when I'm daydreaming, these... things... happen. Like, visions. I see sometimes what was, like, y'know, the past? I know because one day at the orphanage I saw a vision of a soldier as he died on a beach on an overcast day, and there were a bunch of machine-guns going off further up the beach. Later that day, the Nuns during history class showed us a documentary about D Day and I watched on the film that same solider I saw die on that beach as he was gunned down."

"Okay..." James muttered, looking disturbed. "That's..."

"Not something a kid should see? Yeah... I didn't really enjoy that one... But yeah, Sometimes I see the past, sometimes, I see things that don't even exist, like they're in a totally different realm or something. Other times, I can see things that are happening right now. Like last week, I needed help on my Potions homework, but James wasn't at the Tower, and I fell into a daydream, and I found him in my head while he was in the library, and I got the answer from watching him do his homework."

"So, you used your astral whatever to cheat on your homework?" Lily deadpanned.

"It wasn't cheating! I used his answer to look it up on my own!"

"Please, Brian," Dumbledore chuckled. "Continue."

"So yeah, there's times where I can see what's going on right now. And then I can see... like, sometimes, if I focus hard enough, or lose myself well enough, I can see the future. It isn't always accurate, but I have been able to see what might happen every once in a while. It's hard to get a hundred percent right, but I've gotten somewhat decent at it."

"Hoo-kay," James breathed, taking it all in, rubbing his face, the sound of the scratching of his five o'clock shadow filling the Headmaster's office, "And you are sure this is real, Albus?"

"As sure as I am that my hair is, in fact, white," Professor Dumbledore assured him, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he lifted his beard to affirm to himself his own statement. "Though, I have been wrong before..."

The joke made them all laugh, easing the tension in the room a bit. "You see, Lily, that is why I asked you about your assessment of Brian's mental state and his history. I didn't want to pry, Brian, as I now know that what you have suffered has been... well, I don't know the details, and you don't need to give them, unless you want to, but I understand they were awful. You daydream to cope, and you have, it seems, somehow managed to take your natural born ability to See and expanded it beyond what you were given."

"So, that's what you meant earlier," Brian stated more than asked. "When you said something about people having gifts from birth or through circumstance."

"Very astute," Dumbledore praised, smiling. "It would seem you are a product of not one, or the other... but both."

A knock came at the door to the office. "Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Ah, Minerva," Dumbledore greeted, waving his hand at the door, and a clicking sound echoed from it. "You're right on time. Let's keep this all between us, yes?" he asked Brian, Lily, and James. "Until you're ready to talk about about it with them?"

Brian nodded, his face looking neutral. "I think... I think I am. Its better if they know now, than to keep dodging bullets, right?"

"Very well," Dumbledore smiled softly at the boy's wisdom, and with a grin, he said, "Please, Minerva, bring them in."

"Dude!" James screamed as McGonagall opened the door to Dumbledore's office. He and Travis both bolted in, James practically climbing over his own mother to get to Brian to hug him. "You really are okay!"

Brian flushed lightly as his two best friends wrapped him up in their embrace. James had the wherewithal to sling and arm around his mother, too, lest she feel left out, but he focused on Brian.

"Where have you been all day?" Travis demanded, giving Brian a noogie. "We were scared you walked off into the lake and drowned or something!"

"I'm fine," Brian managed to murmur. "I was on top of the Tower all day."

"What in the sam hell were you doing on top of the Tower?" James Dean scoffed. "It's a blizzard out there!"

"Language," Dumbledore lightly warned.

"I was... well..." Brian looked down and away for a moment, steeling himself. He then proceeded to explain everything to them, his visions, his daydreams, his being mentally merged with the monster, seeing it attack Fletchley, everything. Travis looked... skeptical, but James seemed to take it in, nodding as if his suspicions were being confirmed. Brian left out the details of the future he had seen lest they be wrong, and he didn't want to get their hopes up about a bright and happy future that may have just been a wishful daydream.

"So... you can see the future?" Harry asked.

"Sometimes," Brian answered honestly.

"Wait, does this have anything to do with what you said after the finals last year?" James asked. "When you said you dreamed about Harry's nightmares?"

"I think so," Brian muttered, shivering at the thought. "I can see the future, the past, and what's happening now. It's kinda random, but I can sorta take control over whether or not I see it, sometimes."

"So, you saw… it, then?" James asked. "You saw what attacked them all?"

"Not really," Brian sighed. "I always see the attacks from its eyes. Like I'm it, or a part of it, but I can't ever stop it. That's why I've been so distant and weird lately. I feel... y'know."

"Powerless," James finished for him.

"Yeah..."

"Now that everything is squared away," Dumbledore interjected, looking a tad more serious. "I think it best we keep all of this a secret for now. Brian, you have an incredible gift, one that, if knowledge of it ever came to light, would catch the interest of many who would, let's say… not have your best interest at heart."

"Like Voldemort?" Harry asked, point blank. Flitwick squeaked at the name, and McGonagall shifted uncomfortably, but Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, that is the most obvious of culprits. However, there are others who would seek to use this power as a resource for their own bidding and are far less known than the man who gave you that scar, Harry. Also, this is a delicate matter, and Brian's intimate knowledge may make him a guilty suspect in the eyes of those who preside over the court of public opinion. Discretion-"

"Is the better part of valor," James finished for him as he stalked around Dumbledore's office. In his flurry to get to Brian, he had failed to take in the surroundings, and found Dumbledore's office to be... fascinating. It was a large, tall, two leveled circular room, lined almost completely with books along the shelved walls. Portraits hung of various different previous, long dead headmasters, and one in particular gave him the stink eye as he walked past. What James found the most peculiar, however, was a decrepit looking old bird who looked one squawk away from death's door. Half of its feathers had fallen out, and those that remained looked like they had once been a bright and vibrant blood red and sky blue that had marred into a dead maroon and puce purple with its age. It looked up at him and Harry, who had come to stand next to him, with milky white, cataract infested eyes and gave them a gurgling little cry.

"Harry, don't touch that," their father warned as Harry held a finger up to stroke its throat. With a sudden croak, it gurgled again before flaring its wings out in agony, and in a puff of smoke, lit itself on fire.

"Ah!" James cried, falling back and away from the heat.

"Professor," Harry stammered. "I-I didn't-"

"I see you found old Fawkes," Dumbledore grinned, giving them a surprising chuckle. "I have been telling him to get with that for days. He's been getting old recently and needed to molt."

"That was not molting," James claimed, looking disturbed. "The thing spontaneously combusted!"

"As it should," Dumbledore laughed, clapping his hands. "That 'thing' is a phoenix, an old friend of mine who lives though the cycle of birth, life, and death every few years or so. It's a shame you all had to see him on Burning Day, he's usually quite the handsome bird. Red, blue, and gold plumage, a beautiful song, and a loving friend. Wonderful birds, phoenixes. They can carry loads immensely heavier than their own body weight, have healing properties in their tears, and are highly faithful to those they bond with, to the point they have an almost telepathic bond with their chosen Masters. Get up, James, look in the ashes."

James Dean, Harry, Travis, Brian, and their parents gathered around the perch the bird had been on and looked down to see an obnoxiously ugly-cute baby chick, naked and featherless with yellow pale skin, emerge from the ashes. Black inquisitive eyes looked up at James and blinked, and it cooed at him sweetly.

"I think he's taken a liking to you, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said with an encouraging grin, motioning to him to pick Fawkes up. James did, and the baby bird chirped happily and buried itself into his shirt. "See? Fawkes is a special little bird, and while he's kind to most anybody, he doesn't usually take such a shining to someone like that unless they're either me, or another bird."

"You're not, uh, trying to pawn him off on me, are you?" James Dean asked nervously, slicking back his hair and unconsciously showing off his widow's peak. "I have a hard enough time taming the bird I got."

Dumbledore gave him a hearty laugh and shook his head. "No, heavens no, that bird is my best friend. Though, if anything were to happen to me, it is encouraging to know Ole Fawkes here has already chosen a backup plan."

James laughed nervously as looked down at the bird curled up in his arms. The last thing he needed at this point was a new responsibility, so he prayed silently that nothing ever happened to the old man.

"While I have you all here, Dumbledore sighed, once again taking on a more somber tone and staring at Harry. "And we are sharing around revelations and discoveries, I was wondering, is there anything else anyone would like to share?"

Harry gulped audibly and looked to James, who stared back wide eyed and confused. The thoughts of Malfoy's proclamation about Mudbloods being next, and the Polyjuice potion that was wrapping up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom filled James's mind, and he silently bade Harry to keep his trap closed. Harry looked lost, like he didn't know what to say, and that was dangerous. When people didn't know what to say, they had a tendency to blabber things they shouldn't, and James did not want to go down for Operation: Slither In like this.

And then there was the voices Harry was hearing. Harry hearing voices, Brian seeing things... the group was starting to really come off as a bunch of whack jobs. James pondered if maybe, since Dumbledore believed Brian, that he'd believe Harry, too. But he wasn't about to make that leap, not when it wasn't even his place to say.

He just hoped Harry didn't want to make that leap, either.

Harry had a lot on his mind, he knew, but James thought they were handling things well, considering, and they were on the case. It would anger their parents to no end that they were, too, which was all the more reason to not say a word. Yeah, Dumbledore could help, but the risks, especially in this situation, were too high.

James really, really hoped Harry kept his trap shut.

"No," Harry finally said, quietly.

"Now wait just a minute," James Sr. cut in angrily. "I know BS when I see it-"

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed, conceding. He looked disappointed, but waved James Sr. down and relented his stare. "But please if there's anything, anything that comes to mind later... please, feel free to speak. My door is always open."