Autumn 1992

Freya Heimir

16 August 1992

"You're leaving at last."

Harry, who had just entered the living room, stopped at the sight of his haggard-looking stepmother.

Fleamont, who Harry did his best to pretend didn't exist, opened his mouth, but seemed unable to form a reprimand. Harry was use to that and it was no matter anyway. He had a tongue.

"Are you in your cups, Madam? At this time of morning?" Harry asked. "It's so…naff. Low rent as Uncle Frederick would say." He sniffed and looked down his nose at her. "But you're a Smith. How can you be anything but uncouth and rundown? I'd drink, too."

Fleamont gaped at Harry. "Boy!"

Harry ignored him. Naomi would never speak to him like that in front of Henry, James, Charlus, or Sirius, but she was way too comfortable around Fleamont and Euphemia. It was time to force his hand.

Naomi had flushed. "Why you nasty, little shit."

Fleamont started as Harry smirked. "You would know about being nasty and shit."

"You are nothing," she spat with malevolence. "Just a bastard and a second son and you will learn that. You are worthless. Even your mother didn't want you."

"Naomi!" Fleamont barked. "Enough."

Harry ignored him as he continued to smirk at her. "Unfortunately for you, you're not the first person to say that. Funny thing about that is it's always said by a parent or grandparent who has a kid I'm better than."

Naomi's face became impossibly red and she seemed to shake with fury. Delicious.

"At this point, I understand you're trying to convince yourself because there's no way you're stupid – well you are," he mused. "Tell, me stepmother, did you finally see my scores? You did. Oh, good. I'm glad it's driving you to drink." Harry laughed as he walked to the backdoor. The sound reminded him of Bellatrix. "All Potters wash twice a day, Madam. You left the rabble in Kent."

He stood on the steps and exhaled. He really needed to get away from Cassiopeia.

"You have been around the Blacks – "

Harry jumped and spun around with his wand in hand. "Stupefy."

The spell, however, never materialized.

"…too much," Henry finished. He pointed at Harry's wand. "But that is excellent. And with a spell on your tongue, too? Fantastic reaction. I'm impressed."

Harry huffed. "Thank you."

"Uncouth, rundown. I believe these are Cassiopeia's favorite words for Charlus." He pointed to the door with his thumb. "Nothing she said bothers you? I would've come in, but I was doing something." He cleared his throat. "I'll speak to her and tell your father."

Harry looked around, but could see no evidence of what his grandfather had been doing. "Are you drinking in the bushes?"

Henry snorted. "No."

"Smoking? Hiding a body? What?"

"Never you mind."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Sneaking your girlfriend out of your son's house like a teenager."

Henry ignored the statement, but color rose in his neck. "Answer my question."

Harry snorted. "No, I'm not worthless and no one with a kid who can't compete with me can convince me I am. Well, not anymore."

Henry placed a hand on the back of Harry's head. "You're not worthless. Even if you don't win the tournament this year."

Harry felt gooseflesh rise with the hair on his neck.

"You can try to be blasé all you want, but it's your idea to win all three tournaments and at a young age. There's a reason for it and why you're working so damn hard to get it," Henry said. "You look forward to smirking in faces. If only Abraxas wasn't dead, but my son and your stepmother are excellent substitutes, are they not?"

Harry inhaled.

"I'm saying that even if you don't win you will have proved your worth to those you want to prove it to." Henry brought Harry's forehead to his lips. After ruffling his grandson's head, he said, "Come on."

An hour later, Harry was in Karkaroff's office getting tossed around.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Harry picked himself off the floor. "Problem, sir?"

Karkaroff nodded. "I thought I'd taught you to be a proper attacker? What happened this summer?"

"I know I'm fast and I know I can win by attacking first," Harry said. "I lost when I had to go on defense because I don't know how to come out of it. You can say protect, defend, then attack all you want, but so far I don't know how – "

Karkaroff held up a hand. "Shut up. You know how, you imbecile. You just don't do it. Do. It. Now! And you better attack!"

He motioned his wand and Harry followed suit. By the time he left Karkaroff's office he was sweaty and in pain. He downed some Soothing Tonic and took a shower before heading to the Banquet Hall.

"Where the hell have you been?" Andrei asked. "I went to your room about five times and you weren't there. I thought you'd left."

Harry snorted. "With Karkaroff."

He looked at him in disbelief.

"All day?" Mia asked.

Harry inclined his head.

"Good luck. I mean that," she said.

Harry exhaled. "Thank you."

Harry sat down to find Rai was no longer at the table. Rolf, Mafalda, and Aello were, however. Aello was on an island by herself, no doubt do to Mafalda, so Harry beckoned her over.

The professors came to the door and the student body stood up as one.

Morozov stood in front of his seat. "Good evening, Durmstrang."

"Good evening, Headmaster," they said together.

"Sit." Morozov remained standing. "I want to congratulate Mr. Viktor Krum and Miss Monica Saxena on a job well-done." He held out a hand towards their table. "And, of course, Miss Freya Heimir our Triwizard winner."

Harry looked down the table to wear Morozov pointed. He met the electric blue eyes of a beautiful girl with long, golden blonde hair. It framed a triangular face that had full, bow-shaped lips. There was something familiar about her, but Harry couldn't place it. He knew he'd never seen this girl before, though.

"Durmstrang made a lot of noise in all three tournaments last June." Morozov looked around the hall and his eyes lingered on Harry for just a moment. "I want you to scream this June and all others thereafter."

••

Professor Munter

17 August 1992

On the first day, Harry had his first new professor: Hludowig Munter for Dark Arts. He was an old man with long, white hair and an amber eye. His left eye no longer existed as Henry had taken it many years ago.

Harry always felt a burst of pride whenever he saw his grandfather's work. Today was no different, but he, for once, chose to stamp down the urge to grin.

They headed to the dueling room after attendance was taken.

"You will come here every Tuesday," Munter said. "Don't bother with the other room." When they were all seated he said, "I know Professors Karkaroff and Black taught you theory and the steps to becoming decent duelists. Today we will begin practicing. Potter, onto the platform."

Of course.

He called his name as if it was a curse.

Harry stepped onto the platform and Munter joined him. "What's the most common form of protection?"

"Defense," Harry heard himself say. "Most people don't know how to protect properly because the Shield Charm doesn't allow anything to pass through from either side."

Munter looked displeased with the answer. "How do you protect properly, Potter?"

Harry hesitated then shrugged. "I haven't figured that out yet."

Munter curled his lip. "Liar." He whipped out his wand. "Defend yourself."

Harry barely had time to prepare for some nasty looking green spell shot towards him. But Karkaroff had acquainted him well to such teachings. Charlus had taught him to endure.

Which he did. Much to Munter's frustration.

When Harry was finally down, it came from a quick slicing of his shins.

"Get up."

Munter didn't need to tell him for Harry was already on his feet. Bellatrix had taught him to get back up.

Munter shooed Harry off the platform. He only just made it off the steps when it and the platform disappeared.

"By December," Munter said, "I expect everyone in this room to be able to defend and protect themselves properly. Today we will work on the most common form of protection: the Shield Charm."

They worked in pairs with Harry leaning against the wall watching Rolf and Mafalda.

"You're bleeding," the former said.

Harry nodded. "Don't worry about me." He'd been there before. "Your movement is too long and those seconds are precious. A slash is just a longer flick and we're duelist, so slash long enough so that the difference is clear."

For the remaining hour and fifteen minutes, Harry helped Mafalda and Rolf with their charm. He even helped Aello make sure hers was strong enough.

"She's good," Harry commented after class.

"That's why your shins are fucked up," Mafalda said before walking away.

Harry snorted and laughed behind her. "Some people are just so nasty." He looked at Rolf. "Do you know where the place I can get this fixed is?"

Rolf looked at him in disbelief. "You're an idiot."

"Among other things, but I don't see why it's necessary to insult me in my hour of need."

"Why don't you know where the Infirmary is?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry. Some of us haven't been playing with dangerous plants that send us to a medic every other day."

Rolf stuck out his tongue then dragged Harry away by the sleeve of his robes.

Harry was taken to a long room on the ground floor. The walls and floor were honed limestone. Beds with white sheets and one fluffy pillow were lined up against the walls with curtains on their left or right side. Arched windows hung high above each bed and chandeliers hung from the high ceiling.

"Sit," Rolf said pointing to a chair. He then went to go knock on a door.

A woman with a bun full of platinum blonde hair exited a room wearing pale yellow robes.

"What has happened to you today, Rolf?"

"Ha!" he said. "Nothing. It's my friend." He led her over. "Harry, this is Madam Yahontova. Madam Yahontova, this is Harry Potter."

She smiled at Harry. "What ails you, dear?"

"My shins." He lifted his robes to show her a set of deep gashes that had his white socks soaked red. He hadn't realized how bad it was.

Rolf hissed.

"I'm required to ask how this happened," she said as she went about mending his legs.

"Do I have to answer?"

She hesitated while Rolf shook his head just behind. She sighed then, upon seeing Harry's eyes on Rolf, pursed her lips. "No, you don't have to. Where are you coming from? It must be a class this early in the morning." She tutted. "You've been bleeding for a while. A good portion of the blood had dried."

Had for the blood was now gone and all that remained were two gashes. She waved her wand and the skin began to mend.

"A curse." She summoned a foul-smelling paste which she put on the wounds. "Sit tight."

"You're not going to say anything?" Rolf asked.

Harry shook his head.

Rolf shoved his shoulder. "Why?" he hissed.

Harry shook his head. How could he explain this to him? Never in his life had he run to tell anyone…any adult a thing. For a sizeable portion of it, he couldn't. Then when he could there was no one to tell on.

In all honesty, he didn't want to explain. To explain would require touching on the how's and why's of his relationship with the twins and Regulus and Karkaroff and…

"Pride."

Rolf rolled his eyes.

Madam Yahontova returned to inspect his shins. "There will be a faint scar that may disappear in a few years."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

She cleared her throat. "I will be speaking to the Headmaster. I wish for him to know that, at the very least, Professor Munter refused to heal your shins and, at the very worst, did the deed."

Harry met her eye then said, "Thanks again."

••

Dragon

5 September 1992

Harry had been in his bedroom reading about the Confundus Charm when someone knocked on his door.

"Yeah?"

The door opened and, much to Harry's surprise, Draco Malfoy entered the room.

"I was told I can't hurt you, but I'm not afraid to die."

Draco hesitated before stepping inside and rolling his eyes.

"My brave Dragon."

Draco's cheeks pinked. "Shut up, Potter."

"What do you want, Dragon."

Draco hesitated then paced and hesitated again. Just as Harry began to feel annoyed, he blurted out, "My father came to see me."

Harry paused. "Okay?"

"That's it? That's all you have to say? Lucius Malfoy came to Cassiopeia's house."

"Did you tell her that?"

He shook his head. "I haven't said a word."

"Why are you saying something to me?"

Draco hesitated. "I-I wasn't around him, but I have been around Grindelwald. Mother can't do anything to him."

"I can't either." He sighed. "Why are you here, Malfoy? Did your father say anything important? Or did he come to give you a pep talk?"

"He said he l-lo…he said it would all be ours again soon. That I should go home and plant my feet."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "He killed your grandfather and let you keep the house? Yeah, that makes sense."

"I'd rather have me grandfather."

Harry nodded. "Fine, Malfoy. I'll try to get this info to the appropriate people."

Draco stepped forward with his hand out. "Thank you."

Harry stared at Draco hard. "You can't be serious?"

Draco dropped his hand. "I'm trying to be polite."

"Try to be gone, Malfoy."

Draco nodded and the left room, shutting the door with a bang. Harry was tempted to go after him, but he was supposed to be mature now. Slamming the door was nothing to bash a face in for.

••

Unveiled

17 October 1992

Harry's second term had been largely uneventful. He did brew Veritaserum with Thanos the middle of October and, on the same day, Harry received a letter informing him of Lucretia's death.

He and Mafalda were pulled out of school and Charlus came to pick them up by himself.

"We're going to have a long conversation about your spending," Charlus had said.

Harry ignored him as Mafalda gripped his hand. She'd been gripping his hand all day, ever since he paid her a visit. She was grieving and he had allowed it, but he found he preferred too talkative Mafalda to under-Harry-Mafalda.

The funeral was the next day and Harry stuck to the Blacks. Charlus did the same whenever he wasn't at Ignatius' side. He suspected it was out of respect for Lucretia and Ignatius for every time he was near a Prewett they had something to say.

"I don't like these people," Harry said to Cassiopeia.

They were sitting at a table in a corner observing the room. Charlus was mulling over his wine. Callidora, a woman who looked a lot like Cassiopeia, was conversing with her mother, Lysandra.

"No," she drawled. "They are annoyingly uppity and I cannot needle or retort at a funeral. It's infuriating, but some of us must display good breeding."

Harry nodded. "They're not dressed well enough to feel superior about anything."

"Too right. They could have attempted to look decent, at the very least."

Charlus had his hands over his face while Callidora and Lysandra had their mouths covered.

"How could I have let this happen?" Charlus said. He looked at Harry. "You are a nightmare." He pointed at Harry. "I heard what you said to your stepmother. I don't like those words."

Cassiopeia looked at Harry, who grinned. "She was in her cups, so I called her rundown and uncouth."

Callidora laughed as Cassiopeia smirked at Charlus.

"Even you look better than the Prewetts," Cassiopeia said to Charlus. "To home training."

Charlus looked at her. "I was trained in the house. You were outside in the kennel."

Harry clamped down on his lip as he did he best not to laugh.

Cassiopeia wagged her finger. "Your hands resemble ham hocks, Charlus, don't speak to me."

Harry laughed out loud and had to get away from the table and Charlus' offended look.

He went to sit by Narcissa, who was with a tall, beautiful woman with brown hair that fell down her back in thick curls. In fact, her dark eyes and square jaw made her look a lot like Bellatrix.

"Are you Unicorn's mother?" Harry asked.

Narcissa shook her head. "Everyday she curses your name for that. You don't know how many people call her Nymphadora Monoceros."

He shook hands with Andromeda, who asked, "How did she get that name?"

With a grin, Harry leaned forward to tell her the story of 'Nymphadora Monoceros.'

Later that evening, Harry sat beside Charlus in the seat Darius, who was stocky with brown hair and heavy-lidded, blue eyes, had vacated. Charlus' brow was furrowed and he had a deep frown as he watched Darius with Dorea, a graying blonde who was aging gracefully and arrogant in it.

"Sorry about your friend," Harry told Charlus. "She's the one you sat next to on the train?"

Charlus nodded. "Most people think it was Iggy, but yes. She still tried to get me to be apart of the family after things ended with Dorea. Her and Cass…" He poked Harry's arm. "I don't appreciate the laughter."

"I didn't mean to."

"Did you also mean to spend all your money?"

Harry snorted. "Hell no."

"What did you buy and I want the truth."

He grinned. "Furniture."

"Harry."

"That was the truth."

Charlus nodded. "Very well, I'll indulge you. Where is this furniture?"

"In a manor in Gloucestershire. The small village of Stinchcombe to be exact."

Charlus stared at Harry. "That's not funny, son."

Harry opened his backpack and pulled out the stag head pommel of Henry's cane.

"What did you do?"

"Spent a bloody fortune on furniture because who knew it would cost so much," Harry spat. "There's no reason for a sofa to be so expensive. And the wood. Great Merlin, the wood. Why does it cost so much. I see why you live in other people's houses. You buy one then you also have to furnish the blasted thing."

Charlus was grinning by the time he finished. "When do you intend to reveal?"

"Christmas."

"Can I see it now?"

Twenty minutes later, after giving their goodbyes to Ignatius and Mafalda, they stood before Dawn Park. The walkway was flanked by patterned, manicured grass. The Palladian estate had tall pillars and an intricate, symmetrical pediment. The cornice was ornate and the frieze was full of stags and unicorns and bluebell relief sculptures.

Harry laughed as Charlus ran down to the house like a kid at Christmas.

••

The Chamber of Secrets

14 November 1992

Almost a week after Halloween, Harry received a note from Cassius.

Well, Potter, I don't know how you knew, but something weird has happened: the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. We found Mr. Filch's cat stiff as stone just hanging from the ceiling after the Halloween feast.

Dumbledore also started checking our shit randomly.

Warrington

A few days after, he returned to his room to find his Durmstrang book glowing. He had just finished questioning Winter under Veritaserum and it had been unsuccessful. So he opened the book with a huff to find Morozov had sent him a note.

Come see me tomorrow morning. Early.

So, the next morning, at what he considered a reasonable time, Harry headed upstairs to Morozov's office.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning, Potter," Morozov said. "I hear you're making excellent progress. I suspect you'll be able to join us next year at Castelobruxo."

Harry took a deep breath. "You know every time someone mentions progress or a tournament, I start shaking. That's never happened to me before."

Morozov looked amused, but said, "For the sake of your fraying nerves, I'll end that vein." He passed Harry a note. It was lavender with a golden seal on the back. This one was in the form of a phoenix.

"Oh what now?"

He opened it to find two simple sentences written in long, loopy letters. It read:

I require your assistance. This parchment will bring you to me Saturday evening at ten my time.

Harry threw his head back. He now regretted informing Grindelwald of his parseltongue abilities.

So, Saturday evening, under darkness and snowfall, Harry headed back down the rainbow bridge. At eleven sharp his time, he was yanked to Scotland.

Breathless, he landed in Dumbledore's office. His feet slammed into stone and he wobbled, but he didn't fall.

"It's the middle of the school year and late at night," Harry announced. "I don't appreciate being harassed."

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry huffed. "I don't know anything about the Chamber of Secrets. Tom didn't share that with me."

Dumbledore paused as his eye widened a fraction. The surprise was gone in a blink. "How is it that you are aware of that?"

Harry smirked. "I have eyes and ears everywhere." He stepped over to the windowsill. In two uniform lines, what looked like hundreds of spiders were crawling through the cracks. "You have an infestation. Thank Merlin I didn't come here."

"I assure you, they are leaving." Dumbledore got to his feet. "Walk with me."

He was taken through the silent castle where the wind whistled through cracks in the walls. Every candle was lit, which he doubted was standard practice. The suits of armor they passed looked to be perspiring under the heat of the castle and the cold seeping through the walls.

"Did you ever solve our problem?"

Dumbledore sighed. "No, unfortunately, and I fear I'm about to make it worse." He shook his head. "We searched every student and I personally went through the possessions of every professor. Nothing."

They stopped on the second floor in front of a blank wall.

Dumbledore waved his wand and the ghost of writing appeared on the stone. The blood had been dripping down the wall.

"'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.'" Harry sighed. "You don't think it's cruel to bring a little boy here under these circumstances?"

"I require a parselmouth."

Harry sighed. "Because Tom is unavailable?"

Dumbledore stared at him.

Harry sighed. "What do you want from me exactly?"

"You must find the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry exhaled.

"My caretaker's cat hung from the ceiling right here Halloween night. She's not dead," Dumbledore assured, "but she has been petrified. The bathroom down there was flooded. A young boy – a muggleborn – was found petrified last Saturday evening. The film in his camera was left smoking and melted." He turned to Harry. "Have you made anything of the spiders?"

Harry touched his forehead. "I don't know enough about spiders to answer whatever riddle you're dangling…" He tilted his head. 'Mr. Filch's cat was stiff as stone.' "What's petrified mean? Like gorgons?"

Dumbledore inclined his head.

"I don't think old Salazar has Medusa in his chamber," Harry said.

"Indeed. She would have died long ago," he said. "You're very close to the mark, I can assure you of that."

Harry scrunched up his face. "The monster would have to be a snake and one that can…" His face transformed into an image of disbelief. He scratched his neck. "You said there was a flood?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"So the cat saw it through the puddle and the boy through his camera," Harry concluded. "How does a basilisk just slither through this full castle without anyone noticing? I didn't even know they could petrify."

But it made sense. One had to look directly into the eye for it to kill. It made sense an indirect view would put someone in a deathlike state.

"It's coming and going through the pipes, I believe," was the answer. He pointed his finger. In a soft voice, he said, "Through that door is a bathroom, which has never worked well. I believe the Chamber is somewhere through there. What I need you to do first is speak with the ghost who dwells in the bathroom."

Harry sighed then shook his head before walking down the hall to the bathroom door. He glanced behind as he felt Dumbledore. However, he could no longer see him.

He stepped into the bathroom. "Hello?"

There was a splashing noise then the ghost of a girl about his age appeared. She'd been plain with long pigtails and large, thick glasses.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she announced.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I – uhh – have to go," he said. "Excuse me."

While he did, in fact, use the toilet, she asked, "Why don't you know where the boys' lavatory is?"

"I don't go here," he said. "I'm visiting Uncle Albie and I got lost. So – err – why are you in here?"

"Because I can't use the bathroom?" she sniffed. "Because I'm dead!?"

Harry took a deep breath so as to be able to stamp down his laughter. "No, because the other ghosts roam the castle. I've never seen you before and I've been here a few times." He stepped out of the stall to wash his hands.

"I died in here," she announced.

Harry paused for a fraction of a second. "So why do you stay?"

"So I can be alone," she said with a sigh. "No one comes in here. The faucets barely work and no one wants to bother with Moaning Myrtle," she finished with a pout.

"Myrtle? Is that your name?"

She nodded. "Myrtle Warren."

"What house were you in, Myrtle?"

"Ravenclaw," she said.

Harry smiled. "I would've been a Ravenclaw, too, had I come here. So, Myrtle, am I the first person you met this year?"

She shook her head. "I met another muggleborn like myself. She's a Ravenclaw, too."

Harry perked up.

Myrtle pointed to a stall. "She and her friends are brewing a potion."

Harry stepped into it. He opened the lid of a cauldron to find a muddy brown potion simmering away. "I'm taking this."

"That's stealing."

Harry shrugged. "And brewing Polyjuice Potion is illegal and, I'm sure, worthy of suspension." He straightened and left the stall. "Anyone else?"

She shook her head.

Harry licked his lips. "This may be rather rude, but how does one die in a bathroom? Besides drowning."

"Ooh, it was dreadful," she said sounding way too excited. "I had run in here because Olive Hornby was teasing me something dreadful. I'd just gotten my new glasses and she was relentless. I was crying in that stall – " She pointed to the first one. "Then I heard footsteps and a boy speaking something funny. A language I didn't understand," she said. "I stepped out of the stall to tell him to go away and that this is a girls' bathroom, but…I died."

Harry blew out a breath. "Yes, that was dreadful," he said. "Where did it happen?"

"Somewhere over where you are."

Harry nodded and started searching the faucet. "Did you see who it was?"

"No," she said. "All I remember seeing were a pair of great, yellow eyes. My body sort of seized then I was floating away." She laughed and twirled in the air. "I was determined to come back. By the time she left, Olive Hornby was ever so sorry she'd teased me."

"I think I found it," Harry said as he eyed the small snake on the copper tap.

Dumbledore came into existence and stooped down beside him.

He tapped the engraving. "See?"

"No, I do not," he said. He stood and pulled his wand out. "Get your wand at the ready and open it."

Harry straightened and pulled out his wand, but didn't open the chamber. "I'm not sacrificing myself for you. At the first sign of danger I am out of here. You've lived hundreds of years. I'm sure you understand."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Yes, Uncle Albie understands."

"Open," Harry hissed.

The faucet began to creak and groan before spinning wildly on its own. It sank into the sink, which sank into the ground. A pipe, big enough for them to slide down together, was left in the stone floor.

"Congratulations. We've found the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said. "I wonder if there are any other rooms like this?"

Dumbledore looked at him. "It'll be difficult for you to find out."

"Hardly. I found the Chamber of Secrets in a…" He looked at his watch. "Half-hour. I can find other chambers and rooms in eight months."

"And if I enact an age line?"

Harry looked him up and down. "I'll throw a fit to get here then place your cup under my control. It's sentient, right?" He nodded. "It can be controlled."

The twinkle disappeared from Dumbledore's eye. "You're still dangerous."

"As are you. Luckily for the both of us, we have a common enemy. Stairs." A set appeared and Harry nodded. "I can't imagine Tom Riddle sliding down this all undignified like." He held out his hand. "After you."

Dumbledore lit his wand then hiked his robes before stepping into hole. The stairs curved in different directions as Dumbledore led the way down the steps deeper and deeper into Hogwarts.

"He couldn't have created a hole on an upper floor?"

"I imagine it was much easier to get down here during Salazar's time," Dumbledore said. "The pipes."

Harry cleared his throat. "So – err – Myrtle?"

"His first kill. However, I believe it was an accident. From beginning to end," Dumbledore said. "I imagine he had no notion someone was in this bathroom. For all his faults, he would never be so careless. I also believe he wanted his father to be his first and his grandparents to be his second and third."

Harry nodded. "She didn't tell you any of what she told me?"

"No," he said. "She is a muggleborn, so she despises me. She was also inconsolable. She stays in the lavatory to avoid running into her old Head of House."

"Okay," Harry said. "How does the Heir of Slytherin open this chamber from an Albanian forest?"

Dumbledore looked at him. "Guess."

"The book? But how…" Harry touched his forehead. "Nevermind."

At last the stairs began to level and Harry felt cold air that made him shiver and his teeth chatter. He waved his wand to place heating charms on them both.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said.

Harry gripped his wand as they neared the bottom. "Lumos."

But the tunnel was still so dark they couldn't see that far ahead. Water squelched underneath their boots as they crossed wet stone.

"There are bones on the floor," Dumbledore told him. "Be aware so you don't frighten yourself and leave me to my fate prematurely."

Harry stamped down a laugh, but levity fled him as he spied the outline of something long and wide up ahead. Harry grabbed Dumbledore's robes.

"You're just gonna keep walking? Without a care like that?"

"You are ignorant of snakes after having spent so much time with Nagini?"

Harry nodded. "It's probably why I'm ignorant. I'm a cat person for a reason."

"Snakes are cold-blooded and the floor is wet," Dumbledore said. "It would never rest here in this tunnel. It's too cold." He moved his boot so that something crunched. "And icy. It will be in a place Salazar ensured would be warm for an eternity. When you feel heat again is when you worry."

Harry exhaled. "Alright."

They walked past the skin, which was a vivid, poisonous green. Harry stooped down to touch it. It was hard, but, much to his surprise, flexible.

"Err…can I have the snake? I'll stick with you to the end if you say yes."

"The whole snake?"

Harry bit his lip. "I'll split it with Flamel. Or Slughorn, but not both."

In the darkness, he heard Dumbledore chuckle.

The tunnel continued to twist and turn until they reached a solid wall where two carved snakes were entwined. Large, glittering emeralds that rivaled his eyes made up theirs.

"What a waste of precious jewels," Harry said. He blew out a breath, but he could no longer see it. "It's warm."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it is."

Harry exhaled. "Open."

The snakes, and thus the wall, parted to reveal a wet chamber. Stone pillars entwined and, with the help of more carved snakes, held up a ceiling too high to see in the darkness.

Harry's eyes swiveled every which way as their boots squelched and echoed on the stone floor. "It's not in here…exactly," he said as he lowered his wand.

He headed to his left to walk along the wall, touching and listening with his eyes closed.

"Harry."

He met Dumbledore beside a tall statue. One Harry needed to crane his neck to see properly. The face was monkeyish. A long thin beard hung from the old face to the hem of his robes. This was not at all what he expected of Salazar Slytherin. Between himself and Tom he'd expected a handsome man who would do his greatest heirs justice.

A pity they descended from ugly.

"I smell food."

Harry jumped and, in a blink, had his wand pointed to the statue. "It's in there."

"How do you propose we free our prize?"

Harry exhaled and raised his wand. "Open," he hissed.

Nothing.

He shrugged and leaned against the statue with his eyes closed. Salazar was the precursor to Tom Riddle and, in a few ways, himself.

"You will be the Albus to my Gellert. We even look something alike, just as they do."

Despite his unfavorable opinion of Albus Dumbledore as a person, he long believed he was the superior wizard, to both Grindelwald and Tom Riddle. In Harry's opinion, Dumbledore was only weaker because he chose to be, but, in the event the two titans faced off, Dumbledore would emerge the victor.

And he did believe he was more similar to Dumbledore than Tom, but he wasn't all that different from Tom either.

'Opposite…but not at all dissimilar.'

Intelligent, angry half-bloods; rich, arrogant fathers and deceitful mothers who had impacted their lives greatly. Highly intelligent and insufferably arrogant.

Harry perked up as if a bulb had flickered on.

"Answer me, Slytherin," Harry hissed, "greatest of…" Something moved and Harry opened an eye to find Slytherin's mouth widening. "…all time."

Dumbledore raised his wand and pulled Harry away as he, himself, moved away from the wall. He could hear something heavy slide across the floor. Slytherin's mouth spread and fell until it hit the floor; until something was able to slide out of it. Harry's mouth, too, opened wide and fell as something heavy hit the stone and shook the entire chamber.

Dumbledore motioned his wand.

A few roosters crowed in his ears and the basilisk began to shriek. Harry cringed as he and Dumbledore continued to back away. He'd never seen anything so terrifying yet so fascinating.

At last, the basilisk hit the stone so hard he felt as if the earth was cracking at their feet.

The two stopped very near the opposite wall from whence they'd entered. Dumbledore banished the roosters while Harry stood there gaping.

"Bloody hell."

••

A Request

15 November 1992

The next morning, Harry helped Professor Flamel carve up the basilisk. With dragon hide gloves on his hands, he pulled each fang then milked them of all their venom. They ended up with pounds of body parts, most of which Flamel took. Harry took a good portion of the venom and the majority of the skin.

"Shh," she had said, "we will keep this from Horace and Nicholas."

Harry laughed and the sound echoed around the chamber.

Dumbledore returned from inspecting the tunnel.

"Find anything?" Harry asked.

"Yes, a study and an exit."

Flamel looked at him in surprise. Harry understood it wasn't because of the discovery, but the answer.

After a few minutes of silence, Flamel said, "During the summer, would you be willing to sit down with me to examine the pieces we have before us?"

Harry raised his eyes. "Ohh, the twelve uses of basilisk blood. Of course, that's if I'm not moping."

She laughed then said, "You will have Miss Delphine, Mr. Botan, and Miss Freya to contend with. I've seen them all and they are no easy marks."

Harry blew out a breath. "I know. I. Know."

"I'm looking forward to seeing what I missed last June," Dumbledore said. "You embarrassed some of my best and Minerva wavers between impressed and distressed."

Harry looked at him, but it was Mr. Flamel who answered.

"The Durmstramg contingent was young and you were missing a number of your best," he said. "We know of the names missing. And the last three years have been increasingly Durmstrang heavy in the final rounds. Our only hope seems to be Uagadou."

That afternoon, Harry sat in Dumbledore's office eating a BLT with a bottle of cold butterbeer off to the side.

He raised his hand. "Err…"

Dumbledore looked at him. He'd been reading through Secrets of the Darkest Art. "Yes?"

"Why do we believe the body of the wolf is cursed?"

"What else could be cursed?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry took a moment to answer. "You, my father, and Mr. Waffling all speak of personality when discussing the animagus transformation. Our body isn't the source of our personality…Do you think man is still a wolf in death?" Harry hummed. "You believe they are cursed men. Wholly different from creatures. Would a ghost transform into a werewolf?" Harry exhaled. "You've contradicted yourselves. Time and again." He grinned. "How delicious that I get to point it out to the world."

Dumbledore looked at the ceiling. "I'm certain the taste is sweet, but it is something I have considered since reading Mr. Belby's book, which I'm sure is the reason you're sitting here crowing. Tell me this: what is your proof?"

Harry snorted. "Have you ever seen a ghost transform into a werewolf?"

"Why would a werewolf come back?"

"Why would Myrtle Warren come back?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "She wanted revenge and was an ignorant child."

"Logically speaking, Greyback can't be the only one of his kind. We know plenty of werewolf children have died and I doubt all of them have gone on." Harry shook his head. "If the key difference between the two is one is a curse that prevents transformation at will, then, by your own interpretation, they must both be of the soul or the body." He laughed. "Evidence points to the soul. Again, according to your own theory, which is proven by your ghosts, we are whole again in death."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. I will allow myself to be made a mockery of by a twelve year old."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please."

He spent the rest of the day at Hogwarts stuck in Dumbledore's office. He worked on his assignments while arguing theory with Albus Dumbledore. He could do that for a lifetime.

For dinner the Flamels joined them and they dined on smoked salmon, roasted potatoes, and sugar snap peas.

Mr. Flamel was a thin man with brown hair and eyes. A gold chain in the form of a triangle hung from his neck.

"A shame Perry got to you first," he said as the conversation turned to divination. "But I will wait my turn. How did you become fascinated by the subject?"

Harry smiled. "The myths were my bedtime stories once."

"So you will push divination as a legitimate study of magic?" Perenelle asked.

Harry's smile turned to her with a smirk. "Oh yes."

Perenelle narrowed her eyes. "What is this smile you have?"

Harry just shook his head. "I'm a happy person."

That evening, before Dumbledore handed him a portkey, he said, "I have another task for you."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I want you to get to know Horace Slughorn," he said. "One way or another, he can still have you and he will be happy to have you."

Harry rubbed his forehead. "Any reason why?"

"I want you to glean as much information about Tom Riddle as you can," he said. "He likes to collect prizes and he likes to be of use. Understand?"

Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was slowly roping him in and he wasn't being subtle about it.

"Why?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "I ask that you trust me, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "I've heard all about you and I'm not stupid enough to think you didn't keep me alive for a reason."

"You're a child," Dumbledore said to himself.

Harry nodded. "One who was closer to Tom Riddle than anyone else can say and one you just dragged into the Chamber of Secrets."

"As such I just placed a bright red target on your back. Who else would he suspect? He believed himself to be the last of Slytherin's heirs and didn't care for any other legendary parselmouths. No Potter other than yourself would indulge me," Dumbledore said softly, almost to himself. The man behaved as if he was arguing with his conscience.

Maybe he was.

Harry paused. "Yes."

"So that ends any potential chance you have to spy, doesn't it?"

He was arguing with his conscience.

"Oh," Harry said. "It's no longer your plan to get me killed. Why? What makes me different from all the men, women, and children who died for a greater good."

Dumbledore's face hardened as he seemed to return to reality. Pure fury was on his face and, as he brought himself up to his full height, he seemed to radiate power

Harry tilted his head. "I get why Tom is afraid of you, but I'm almost inspired. It's like looking into the future."

Dumbledore seemed to deflate. "I was told you despised the comparisons."

"Doesn't look like I have a choice but to be like you, so why fight them?"

Dumbledore turned on his heel and walked to the windows. "We all have choices, Harry. You have all the time in the world to be better than me."

"That's the goal."

"I don't speak of magic. I speak of morals, Harry; of being a better man. You will soon have to make choices," Dumbledore said. "Choose right instead of easy; mercy and kindness not brutish violence."

Harry tilted his head. "Why? They deserve it."

Dumbledore looked at him. "You cannot look in any direction without seeing a man or woman who made all the wrong choices. Why do you want to travel the beaten path?"

"I don't," Harry said. "The world isn't going to pay for my pain. The people who caused it will."

"Where does that end for you?"

Harry snorted. "If that was a long list, I wouldn't call Laurent Rosier grandfather, Cassiopeia Black aunt, and I would have run to you about your partner in crime a long time ago." He planted his feet. "You didn't answer my question."

Dumbledore looked amused for a moment. "Who are you to demand answers from me?"

"Harry Potter."

Dumbledore looked out the windows again. "Indeed. You are fearless; straight-backed and unbreakable." He exhaled. "Read Secrets of the Darkest Art and you will find what you're asking for. Then you will go to Horace."

Dumbledore sent him a parchment and Harry caught it. After a moment, it began to glow electric blue.

"Harry…"

He looked up.

"Pay attention," was the last words he heard before being yanked northward.