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Jedi Order: The Origins
By: Tellemicus Sundance
Co-Authored by: Fiori75
#02 –Room of Mysteries
Friday, November 4, 1994
If Harry had thought matters would improve once everyone got used to the idea of him being champion, the following day after the Goblet of Fire spat out his name showed him how mistaken he was. As it wasn't the weekend, he just couldn't avoid the rest of the school. He had to go to his lessons—and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought he had entered himself for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they didn't seem impressed.
The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their champion's glory. A feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, thanks in large part to Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, whom Harry had normally got on very well with, did not talk to him even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray. Though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grasp and smacked him hard in the face. Ron wasn't talking to Harry either. Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though both answered her normally, they avoided making eye contact with each other. Harry thought even Professor Sprout seemed distant with him, but then she was Head of Hufflepuff House.
He could understand the Hufflepuffs' attitude, even if he didn't like it. They had their own champion to support. He expected nothing less than vicious insults from the Slytherins. He was highly unpopular there and always had been, because he had helped Gryffindor so often, both at Quidditch and the Inter-House Championship. But he had hoped that the Ravenclaws might have found it in their hearts to support him as much as Cedric. He was wrong, of course. Most Ravenclaws seemed to think that he had been desperate to earn himself a bit more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his name.
Then there was the fact that Cedric looked the part of a champion so much more than he did. Exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair, and gray eyes, it was hard to say who was receiving more admiration these days: Cedric or Viktor Krum. Harry actually saw the same sixth-year girls who had been so keen to get Krum's autograph begging Cedric to sign their school bags one lunchtime!
But it was Double Potions that was the straw that finally broke the camel's back. On an average day, Potions was a horrible experience. But these days it was nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for living and breathing, let alone being a school champion. It was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine. He had already struggled through four days' worth of having Hermione sitting next to him intoning 'ignore them, ignore them, ignore them' under her breath and he couldn't see why this class should be any better.
When he and Hermione arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment, Harry thought they were S.P.E.W. badges, then he saw they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:
SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY
THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!
"Like them, Potter?" asked Malfoy loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do—look!"
He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one which glowed green.
POTTER STINKS!
The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all-around Harry. He felt the heat rise in his face and neck.
"Oh, very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone. "really witty."
Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.
"Want one, Granger?" asked Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see. Don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."
Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He had reached for his wand before he'd thought what he was doing. People around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.
"Harry!" Hermione said warningly.
"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now—do it, if you've got the guts—"
For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then at exactly the same time both acted.
"Furnunculus!" "Densaugeo!"
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles. Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hand to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up. Hermione whimpered in panic, clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!" Ron hurried forward to see what was wrong with her. Harry turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth, already larger than average, were now growing at an alarming rate. She was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin. Panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.
"And what is all this noise about?" asked a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations, but Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."
"Potter attacked me, sir—"
"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.
"—and he hit Goyle—Look!"
Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.
"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.
"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron snapped. "Look!"
Ron forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth. She was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubling up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.
Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."
Hermione let out a whimper, her eyes filling with tears as she turned on her heel and ran. Ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.
It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time. Lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor. For in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.
"Let's see…" he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."
As the class of red and green colored students filed into the classroom, Harry didn't budge from his spot as he glared at the Professor's retreating back. Harry's ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces.
After spending the majority of the summer working in peace on his lightsaber project, researching magic he didn't yet comprehend, finding out the finer points of technology he hadn't already known, experimenting with and building his models by combining the two, and having a damn-good amount of fun doing so. After having experienced such a high in a workshop that was eerily similar to a potion's lab, to now have plummeted so far down into the gutter, losing both his friends' supports and with the strong likelihood of being targeted by both the Slytherins and Snape. He could almost literally see it happening in his mind's eye. If he went into that class, today and now…bad things were going to happen. It was just… He just… He couldn't… He wouldn't…
After only a moment of relative indecision as he watched the class funnel inside, Harry abruptly turned on his own heel and followed after Hermione, leaving the dungeon. As he departed, he could literally feel Snape's glaring but triumphant eyes following and boring into his back until after he'd vanished around the corner and up the stairs. He just knew that Snape was going to make him pay this, but at this moment in time, he just didn't care!
Harry's original intention was to follow after Hermione to the hospital wing to support her during her recovery, then escort her to Gryffindor common room where they could get an early start on their homework. However, he had barely taken three steps out of the stairwell when he realized that neither Hermione nor Pomfrey would want his presence there, especially during class hours. So, with no real destination in mind and hotly burning temper just under the surface, he started stalking the lower halls of the castle, looking for an adequate place to brood in peace.
His sulking wandering was halted as he reached a very familiar doorway. Normally, he'd have done his utmost to utterly ignore this particular doorway. There were so many bad memories connected to this stretch of hallway and what lie behind that doorway in particular. But, as he thought on what he knew of it, Harry realized that this doorway (or, more specifically, the one that lie hidden behind it) was exactly what he needed right now. For inside the Chamber of Secrets, he was guaranteed to have the privacy he sought so badly right now.
Earlier…
The look on Snape's face as he closed the door behind him was that of unpleasant triumph, his eyes somehow seeming to glitter in delight. He practically strutted over to his desk, grabbing a bit of parchment and a quill as he reached it. "Well, it would appear that Mr. Potter has decided that he's exempt from attending class. That'll be 50 points from Gryffindor and a detention tonight for Potter's failure to attend." Predictably, this caused a rouse of anger from the Gryffindors and muted cheers from the Slytherins.
Once finished making a note of the deduction, Snape turned to face the class. "Antidotes. You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then we will be selecting someone on whom to test one—"
A knock on the dungeon door interrupted Snape before he could even finish his first lecture. With only a slight wave of his wand, the door burst open and there stood the familiar form of Colin Creevey. The Gryffindor was beaming happily, apparently not taking in the sullen and friction-laden atmosphere of the class as he entered and moved over to Snape's desk and the man behind it.
"Yes?" Snape asked curtly.
"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs," Colin said, the source of his good nature now becoming clear to all. Everyone knew of Colin's strange obsession and hero-worship of the Potter boy after all.
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, who smile faded from his eager face.
"Potter is not presently here," the man stated bluntly. "And he will have an hour of class and detention to follow that. He will be free afterwards."
Colin went pink. "Sir—Sir, Mr. Bagman wants him. All the Champions have got to go. I think they want to take photographs…"
"As I'd stated, he's no longer here," Snape bit out sharply. But then he glanced contemplatively over the class. "He's no doubt followed after Granger like a lost puppy. Parkinson, so glad you could volunteer to go and retrieve the boy," the Slytherin head sneered, adding just one more insult to the ratty little mudblood.
Though Pansy did wish she had actually been given the choice to say no. Still, the chance to see Granger helpless would be at least somewhat worth it…that and missing class with Longbottom when he wasn't being watched by one of the golden trio. Draco could deal with the caustic effects of his fun by himself today.
So, with only a marginal amount of haste, Pansy left the classroom, ascending from the potential hell of clumsy fools and trending onwards to the mixed pleasure of gloating over Granger whilst still technically running an errand. That it was an errand that technically helped Potter of all people was just something she'd have to live with. Much as she had gotten used to the various odors that emanated from Draco's lackeys, her Head of House's inability to actually teach a dangerous subject, or her mother's constant urging to be better.
She'd just have to gloat at Granger's misfortune extra-hard to counter out her own, it was only fair. Nodding in affirmation to herself, Pansy was just about to continue on her journey when she spotted something that did not fit the picture she'd formed in her head. Harry Potter was wandering around on the first floor.
Potter wasn't heading up the stairs, much as she would have kept doing had she not seen him. He wasn't attending to his mudblood like some sort of lost puppy as he had every other time she got injured. Nor did he look like the sullen brooder Draco had always painted him as. He instead looked thoughtful as he started drifting about the first floor almost aimlessly. His right hand idly playing with some kind of silver tube he pulled from his pocket.
Strangest of all though was the sudden stop right outside of the haunted girl's lavatory.
Frowning in confusion and slight anger, Pansy hurried forward, wanting to trap the boy inside. This way she could probably get the wizarding idol to explain just why he suddenly felt the urge to seek out the company of an annoying ghost. Oh yes, she was very interested in the boy's unexpected detour. But just as she reached and partially opened the doorway, she heard something that she hadn't heard for almost two years, a sharp, mysterious, but also rather threatening hissing noise that seemed to echo through the bathroom. House of the Serpent she might be in, but the entire wizarding world had been long taught to fear the voices of those who spoke the tongue of snakes.
Immediately following this terror-inducing noise, a brilliant white light flared to life, casting the entire room into stark hues of blinding whites and deep blacks. At the same time, a grinding sound of moving stone and a rattling and screeching of rusted metal gears filled the air. After only a moment of this noise and light, everything died down and Pansy could see inside once again. She stared in shocked surprise at seeing Potter striding towards a large, man-sized hole in the wall that had obviously just opened. Without a hint of hesitation, the boy stepped into the hole and dropped out of sight.
Opening the door and hurrying inside, Pansy rushed to the hole and stared down into the darkness underneath. Faintly, she could make out the noise of the boy sliding ever lower into the tunnel that was revealed. "What—What is all this, Potter?!"
Frowning, Pansy leaned back and looked towards the exit with an expression of hard contemplation. She was weighing her options of rushing back to the dungeons to inform her Head of House of these strange events, or instead acting like a Gryffindor to sate her mounting curiosity and jumping in blindly after him. After several more glances between the two choices she had, Pansy finally let out a heavy sigh of resignation. In another moment, down went Pansy after him. Never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.
It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. She glimpsed more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as the one she was in. It twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and she knew that she was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons were. And then, just as she had begun to worry about what happen when she hit the ground, the pipe leveled out. She shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in.
Quickly climbing to her feet, Pansy could see the fading shine of a Lumos spell as Harry was already moving away. Drawing her wand but not igniting her own spell, Pansy quickly but carefully followed after him, trying to remain on the outermost edges of the light that Potter had made. After a few minutes of walking, they came to a stop because of a large cave-in that was blocking most of the tunnel ahead. Most of it, because Pansy could see a small area near the top that was just large for a small kid to slip through.
Waving his wand in an almost annoyed manner with a mumbled spell, Pansy watched as Potter cast a large-scale Reparo charm. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she watched enormous and tiny chunks of fallen rock alike rapidly ascend back up into the ceiling, large cracks closing, and the slight sag of the ceiling rising back up into a proper arch form.
'I didn't think Potter had this much power already!' If you listened to Malfoy, and indeed most Slytherins' opinions, then Potter was little better than a Squib in terms of raw power, finesse, and potential. But Pansy had never fully ascribed to that belief. The boy was at best an average wizard, courtesy of his lazy work ethic and Weasley's influence, but that had been all she'd assumed he was. But now, she realized it was something else entirely. 'Either Potter has been hiding the depths of his power or he's never been pushed to his limit before!'
Potter had started moving forward again during her contemplation and was nearly out of eyesight when she came back to herself. This turned out to be a good thing for Pansy since he was just far enough away to not hear or notice the crunching noises of the bones shards as she tried and failed to move daintily over them without making a sound. As she was doing this, Pansy glimpsed something in the receding light from ahead. It was huge but still rather crushed from the cave-in earlier, lying right across the tunnel. It took a few moments, but Pansy soon realized it was peeled snakeskin.
"Oh shit, that's a big snake," she couldn't help uttering quietly in awe.
And it was just as that quiet statement was spoken that Pansy froze, her eyes widening in dawning suspicion. Was she…? Could Potter really have…? Was it possible that she was…in or near the Chamber of Secrets?!
Pansy had known that the Chamber was at the center of the events during her mutual Second Year with Potter, that something had happened there when the youngest Weasel had been taken, and it ended with Lockhart tragically gone mad. But the Chamber had supposedly closed itself off due to Harry's 'heroic efforts.' The working theory amongst the Slytherins was that the now-crazed former hero had used Potter's gift of Parseltongue to gain entry and had fought the Beast therein. The other option would be that Potter himself had somehow beaten the Beast…at age twelve.
When the running theory was that he was a talentless near-Squib? Nobody in Pansy's House had even considered it, not when someone with far more actual experience was also present. Though, with his recent display, combined with the size of the small gap that had been present in the now fixed rubble? The implication was frightening to an extreme, because it quite frankly did not fit the picture she had formed of Potter in her head. That he was also apparently traipsing around in the sanctum of Slytherin, was a known Parselmouth, and had casually displayed raw power she'd have passed out trying to match? The very real possibility of such a thing was staggering and painted a slightly worrying picture.
Could he possibly also possess the blood of Slytherin?
Chamber of Secrets
'I guess I shouldn't be surprised that nothing's changed much since then,' Harry thought as he gazed upon the chamber he'd entered a few moments earlier. He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.
Lit up by the Lumos he still had active, Harry glanced around himself as he walked slowly down the center of the chamber. Even though it was less than two years ago, he could clearly remember what he felt last time he'd walked down this path. The fear of running into the basilisk, the worry for Ginny's wellbeing, the sense of exposure brought on the hollow eyes of the serpent statues. But soon enough, he'd passed by those and found something else to focus on, namely the rotting and rank corpse of the basilisk from where it still lay in front of the massive carved statue face of Salazar Slytherin. Harry was unsurprised to see that the entrance to which the basilisk came from was still wide open, since neither he nor Tom Riddle had bothered to try and close it. This caused what would've otherwise been a severe expression on the statue's face to seem like it was comically gawking as if horror or disbelief at having to witness its most dangerous weapon be killed and left to rot right in front of it.
Moving forward up to the edge of the flooded moat that separated the statue from the rest of the chamber, Harry couldn't help but begin to grow angry as he stared at the statue. He couldn't help but think of the legacy that this man had left. More than just Voldemort, the killer of his family, but a systemic and enduring hatred that allowed for so much more. Soon, he found himself glaring up at the face angrily. "This is all your fault, you know. All of it started with you. The prejudice, the Purebloods, the wars, Voldemort. All of this is entirely your fault."
There was so much more Harry wanted to say. He wanted to rave and cuss about the man for championing such a vile way of thinking. He wanted to curse and defame the actions this distinguished figure had promoted. But for all that he wanted to do, he held himself back. After all, what he really wanted was to do all those to the real Salazar Slytherin, not some statue.
"You know you're supposed to have been something great?" Harry half mumbled to himself, and half to the statue as his gaze fell to the waters at his feet. "The four of you could have laid it all out perfectly, but no. You just had to hate. Wish you'd have met a little green man in a swamp to teach you how not to be a wanker. Maybe then your House would be tolerable."
Harry might've hated the modern day Slytherins (or most of them) passionately, but he also understood that they hadn't started out that way. He knew that once, long ago, they had been just another school house with wide-eyed and eager students wanting to learn the secrets and the mysteries behind the majesty and awe of magic. He knew that the darkness that enshrouds the House was only a comparatively recent development and that Slytherin himself wasn't technically to blame for the way the wizarding world and his House had turned out. But even so, it was hard to separate his anger from all the misery and pain that the House of the Snakes had, are, and will put him through and to not want to blame the man who'd created the House in the first place.
In the corner of his eye, he could faintly see the glowing eyes of some more jeweled serpents carved into the walls of the chamber, seemingly watching him, judging him. The faint ripples that were floating through the waters made those same serpents somewhat appear like they were alive and dancing. It wasn't intentional on his part, but the sight of dancing snakes reflexively triggered Harry's Parseltongue as he spoke up next.
"Magic is a wondrous thing," Harry mumbled as he stared at the green-tinted waters at his feet. "But I guess it can't solve everything wrong with the world."
As if in reply, the eyes of those serpents flashed faintly for a split second before dying out again. It was so faint and sudden that Harry almost thought he'd imagined it. Before Harry to could turn away, a sudden golden glow emanated from the depths of the waters in front of him.
"What the?" Harry gasped in surprised as he took a step back slightly, eyes wide and his wand at the ready. But after a few moments, he stepped forward again and peered down into the watery depths, gazing down at the strange glow he could see underneath. "That looks like torchlight. Is there another cave down there?" He could faintly see what looked like a tunnel down at the bottom of the moat, some four meters below, which was clearly where the flickering lights were coming from. "What's going on down there?"
It was a second's time of deliberation before Harry promptly decided it was worth the effort and potential danger to go exploring. Pulling off his cloak and discarding his red Gryffindor shirt and slacks, with only his undershirt, boxers, and socks, he gripped his wand in one hand and his glasses in the other as he dove into the cold water without a moment's hesitation.
The water was cold, frigid even. And while he'd expected it to be, that didn't stop him from nearly losing his breath once he'd dived in. The cold was biting and all-encompassing, digging into his skin like thousands of needles, quickly sapping him of his body heat and trying to smother him in its icy grip. But he ignored it as best he could, kicking valiantly against the waters as he swept his arms through the water, pulling himself ever deeper into its clutches. Sadly, he realized too late that his initial assumption about the depth of the water was quite inaccurate. It must've been closer to ten meters deep, rather than the mere four he'd first thought.
Swimming with his hands occupied by his glasses and wand were awkward, but he still kept going. Due to not wearing his glasses, everything he could see was a dark, dreary, fuzzy haze with the only light he could see being the golden glow of the tunnel below him. Before, on the surface above, the glow was merely a curiosity that poked at his natural inquisitive nature with the promise of a mystery to be solved. But now it was like an irresistible siren's call, the flickering glow that of lit torches and fire which were beckoning him forward with the promise of fire and warmth.
It took him longer than he'd have liked, but after several long minutes of pulling himself deeper towards the promised warmth desperately, he finally drew level with the tunnel. Despite his lungs burning with the need for fresh air, Harry grasped the edge of the tunnel wall and pulled himself inside it. Much to his surprise and relief, he could feel the water around him quickly start warming up as he drew closer to the source of the light. The tunnel must've been about two meters long and ended quite abruptly. Yet at the roof of the tunnel, he could see the wavering light and distortions of a surface. 'A cave! AIR!' Frantically, he pushed off the lakebed and shot upwards towards the surface, breaking through it in a spectacular splash and with a loud gasp.
Panting heavily, Harry quickly slipped his glasses onto his face and looked around the cave he'd entered. It was an entrance hall, if he had to guess. The cave was about three meters tall, three meters wide, with the walls all roughly carved out as though dug by chisels and pickaxes. Lining the walls on opposite sides were neat rows of large candles that floated in midair in much the same fashion of those of Great Hall, lighting up the cave with the same warm glow that had drawn his attention in the first place. The floor was just as roughly hewn, but with an obvious path of neatly placed and polished cobblestones that led down the center of the chamber towards a simplistic looking door as black as obsidian with a copper-colored latch. The air in the cave was breathable, with a peculiar taste of mint in it. And, most importantly to Harry, it was warm.
Climbing out of the water, Harry collapsed limply upon the stony floor, breathing hard as he tried to relax and let the heat of the cave soothe his cold and wet body. It took several long minutes, but he eventually got enough of his strength back to take his wand and cast a basic drying spell over himself. It was a simple spell he'd learned back in his second year, but it was oh-so-useful in times like this. A much drier, but still somewhat cold Harry pushed himself up to his feet and made his way over to the door.
As he drew to about two paces away from grasping the door latch, he stopped and stared. The reason for this was because glowing green words had suddenly appeared upon the obsidian door as he'd drawn nearer. The script... it looked sort of like English, but also not. Some words looked to be spelled phonetically and others just scribbled in something that resembled letters, and then there was just the gibberish. Harry could only stare in incomprehension at the strange words and even stranger shaped letters.
"What kind of language is that?" He felt that he should recognize it, half-forgotten memories from primary flirted with the more advanced warding books he couldn't make sense of even when his brain wasn't just recovering from the lack of oxygen.
It was the knowledge that the strange writing looked vaguely like a ward that set his mind whirling. Half remembered talks with Bill Weasley about ward schemes meshed with his summer lessons. Examining the door carefully he saw that while there were more words around the door, it seemed to lack anything beyond the magic necessary to conjure the floating words.
Perhaps it was a greeting?
After several moments of confused staring, Harry shook his head and shrugged. Ignoring the words, he continued forward and grabbed the latch. The latch moved with no resistance and the door slid open with little more than a creaking groan of long-unused hinges. The room beyond the door was pitch black, but that didn't stop him from stepping into it. Igniting his wand as he closed the door behind him, Harry started looking around at the mysterious chamber he'd found. He quickly forgot about the strange words on the door since, in his mind, it probably wasn't important anyway.
The room he found himself in was very different from the rest of the Chamber of Secrets. In fact, it reminded him of the brief moments he'd spent in the Slytherin common room, except homier. It felt almost like stepping into his own common room in fact, save that the colors were in dark green and vibrant silver. Yet there was the odd splash of red in places, such as the large and inviting sofa set near an unlit hearth, the occasional shade of blue such as an old fur-lined cloak left hanging alone upon a stand as if it had a place of honor, and finally there was the large yellow rug that depicted a large and happy cartoonish badger cuddling up to a snake that somehow managed to convey extreme grumpiness on its reptilian face.
It was a distinctive clash with Harry's memory of the posh and decorative room he and Ron had tried to question Malfoy in. The Slytherin Common Room had been so decorative it almost didn't seem like it would be a good idea to truly relax there for fear of damaging something. Yet this small lounge with three adjoining hallways looked quite lived in and welcoming. As if this wasn't just some private place for Salazar and Salazar alone. Something completely at odds with the written history.
"Okay, something strange is going on here," he mumbled.
After a moment of staring, he turned towards the hearth and cast an Incendio. The long-dry wood that still sat in the old hearth caught easily and soon filled the room with its warm golden glow. A glow that was made quite a bit brighter thanks to the whitewash that was plastered upon the entirety of the walls and ceiling surfaces. That done, Harry extinguished his Lumos spell and decided to explore the new area more fully. But before he moved, he cast a quick magic-revealing charm and waved his wand about in a simple searching pattern, seeking for any hidden curses or traps that might have been laid. In doing so, he almost was knocked off his feet by what he detected.
The hallway to his right was easily the most benign of the three. The charm revealed that it was filled with a lot of spells he'd once detected inside the Hogwarts library. Spells made to keep the books arranged, just as Madam Pince layered upon her own domain to keep order within her library. 'That must be Slytherin's secret – eh, personal library, I guess.' However, as he swept his revealing charm to the side, that is when he almost was put down on his ass.
The central hallway's door had magic flowing through it that almost blinded Harry. Power the likes he'd never felt flowed through him and sparked Harry's long dormant survival instinct. Above everything he had ever learned over his brief 14 years upon Gaia, Harry knew that approaching the central hallway would mean his certain doom. Magic, both his own and ancient, informed him that the only thing that laid behind that sturdy door was certain death. For both his body and his immortal soul. Such was the magics that protected the central corridor that Harry almost would've forgotten it even existed as he turned his attention away from it, if not for the sheer existential dread that the doorway exuded.
Finally, there was the corridor to his left. This was what truly drew Harry's senses. More than the library or death corridor, Harry felt the call of magics he couldn't understand down the left-hand path. All his spell could really reveal to him was that whatever Salazar Slytherin had kept within the room was beyond Harry's abilities with the spell to understand. Because if the feedback he'd received was correct, then the very heart of the world rested before him along the left-handed path. Yet, despite the complexities, Harry felt assured that nothing was actually protecting the door before him. Mysteries of great magic hidden deep underground and protected only by its secrecy and a door…and a now very dead thousand-year-old murder snake who was already protecting a near-mythical secret chamber that already allowed only select few entry. That door was probably the single-most protected door in existence, just by that nature alone.
Shaking off the memories of plunging his arm into the King of Serpents mouth on the vague hope his pointed metal stick would kill it before it could swallow him whole, Harry moved towards the left-hand corridor. Ignoring the slight beeping noise that had started to permeate through the Common Room. Grasping the door latch carefully, even respectfully, he slowly opened the old door. As the door slowly cracked open, bright light burst out from around the seams, filling the corridor with its blinding radiance. Though somewhat surprised, Harry continued to slowly open the door, letting his eyes adjust to the new brightness as best they could in the process. The light that shown from within wasn't just a simple, unified whiteness but more of a shifting kaleidoscope of colors, changing from reds, blues, greens, yellows, and a large variety of other colors. The display was truly as dazzling as it was blinding.
By the time he'd opened the door fully, Harry's eyes had somewhat adjusted to the radiance and he was able to peer inside carefully. What he saw brought him up short, standing in the threshold as he gawked. What lay beyond the door was another large cavern that seemed every bit as large as the Chamber of Secrets above him, if not larger in fact. And protruding from the rocky surface of the many large boulders, stalactites and stalagmites, the cavern walls, ceiling, and floor, and even the carefully carved steps that led down into the chamber proper, was a vast array of many thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of glowing crystals. It was easily the single-most beautiful sight Harry had or would ever see in his life. But that wasn't the only thing that brought him up short. Even with his extremely limited knowledge and training, Harry could literally feel the pulsing that each of the crystals were giving. It was like ultrasonic air waves that sent vibrations through air and caused tingles and shivers to run up his skin. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that these powerful, nearly visible waves of raw power was pure magic.
"Wh-Wh-What are these things?!" Harry gasped out, staring in shock as he continued to gawk.
Gathering his courage, Harry carefully stepped into the new cavern, looking around in wonder and curiosity. He didn't even make it quarter of the way down the steps before he stopped and squatted down to more closely examine a nearby cluster of crystals that were protruding from a large chunk of granite. This particular cluster were packed with blue, green, and yellow crystals. Reaching forward, he made to touch one of them but flinched back when an unexpectedly strong pulse of magic flared out from the crystal he'd been about to touch. The pulse wasn't anything harmful, but it did give him a strange sensation, a feeling of…hesitation? Of not belonging. That this crystal wasn't…meant for him and that…to take it would be somehow…inappropriate. Like taking another wizard's wand without consent from either the wizard or the wand.
Frowning slightly, Harry reached forward again but more slowly, cautiously. When his hand drew closer, the same crystal pulsed again, and the feeling returned. Curiosity overruling his sense of propriety, Harry ignored the feeling and gently laid his finger upon the crystal. A shiver run up his arm as he felt the crystal literally shudder beneath his finger for a split second. But then, after just a moment of contact, the crystal settled down and a sense of…acceptance washed over him. Gently, respectfully, grasping the crystal and extracting it from its resting place with minimal effort, Harry raised it to his face to stare at it. This particular crystal was a blue one, no bigger than the size of his pinkie's fingernail, yet it was shining as brightly as a blue neon sign at night. And the aura of power it was exuding was quite potent. He could literally feel it pulsing across his skin, traveling through body as he stared down at it. The strength of the aura wasn't nearly as overwhelmingly impressive as the massive collection around him, but it was still a remarkable amount all on its own.
The crystal felt right in his hands now, like it belonged there. In fact, it was a feeling that he remembered having felt the first time he'd grasped his wand back in Olivander's, but somehow more so. Where his wand felt almost like a small flame bursting to life as it connected with him, the crystal was like the sun, filling him with warmth and energy. Magic flowed through the gem, both his own and what felt like the magic of the earth itself.
It was with a sudden start that Harry realized what he was holding. This tiny blue gem was pure, crystallized magic! He was literally holding solid energy. The concept was mildly dizzying, even more so because it meant that every single crystal in the chamber with him must also be of the same basic property as the one he held now.
"What are you?" Harry breathed as he stared at the blue gem.
He had barely even finished speaking his thought aloud before he was stuffing the crystal into his sock. After all, it would be far easier to carry it around in there and less awkward than putting it into his boxers, especially since his undershirt had no pockets. Grabbing his wand, he stood back up and forced himself to turn away and head back up the steps. Once the door to the crystal cave had been sealed shut behind him, Harry found himself swamped by the comparative darkness of the room and had to wait for a long few moments as he eyes once again readjusted.
"Okay, what else is in here?" Harry asked himself, unable to hide his now bubbling excitement at the possibility of what other treasures he may find next.
Hurrying back into the Hidden Common Room, he continued forward as he headed for what he assumed was Slytherin's personal library. Opening this door with far less hesitation, he entered the dark room and quickly sent another Incendio burst into the hearth and lit the wood aflame. As the room lit up, he gazed around it with interest. Lining the walls of the room were a series of large and beautifully ornate bookcases that were filled with varying amounts of books, scrolls, and parchment. In the far corner, a large desk sat and had upon its surface a massive roll of parchment and some of the more archaic tools to cut and measure it. In the center of the room, there stood a simple pedestal upon which a closed book wrapped in simple dark leather and binding. A minor curiosity to Harry that this book would have a place of supposed importance in this chamber, but he soon turned his attention away as he continued to study the rest of the room. In doing so, he spotted another door that was partially hidden in the corner, just barely visible around one of the bookcases.
Turning, he approached the nearest bookcase and looked it over carefully. It didn't seem to have any magical protections surrounding it, no ward schemes that he could see, and no curses to prevent unwanted removal. Maybe the curses had faded over time? Then again, this was clearly Slytherin's personal library, in a secret chamber hidden within an already heavily protected cavern far from the rest of the school. And Harry was getting a strong impression that this chamber had not been visited for centuries, at the earliest. Would extra magical protections really be needed?
"Better safe than sorry," he said, raising his wand and casting a couple of magic-revealing charms, searching for any hint of magic anywhere on the bookcase and elsewhere in the chamber. After a few moments, he did come up with a few positive reactions, but all of them were faded to the point of nonexistence and none of them were malicious in nature. From what he could assume, it seemed the fading magic in the room was the natural result of time wheedling away at it.
Reaching up, he grabbed one of the books. This book, like all of the others, was hidebound with the only hint of a decoration on the cover being the title that had been written in golden ink. However, the letters were again written in that odd runic-like style that he couldn't read. Flipping open the book, he hummed out in disappointment that even the pages were written in that style as well. Closing the book, he stuffed it back where he found it before grabbing a random one from another shelf. Again, it was more of that runic writing. Trying a third book, a loud groan of growing disappointment escaped him at what he saw inside.
Replacing the books, he headed over to another bookcase. After just a few moments, he groaned again before stuffing the books back and heading to another. In less than five minutes, Harry had verified that all of the books in here were indecipherable to him. There was nothing he could read! "Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT!"
As he was glaring around the room, he paused when he noticed that one book that was resting on the pedestal. What was so special about this book that it wasn't with the others? Moving forward, he reached to pick it up but stopped, pausing to stare at the cover of the book. More specifically, he was staring at the names written under the title. Yes, the title and the author names were all written in the same runic gibberish as the rest, but these names were so iconic that he could easily recognize them despite the slightly different and more stylized letters used.
"A book written by each of the Founders?!" Harry yelled in shocked awe, grasping the book and holding it up almost reverently as he gazed at it. "Oooohhhh, I'm DEFINITELY taking this one! …Plus, if I left this book here, Hermione would kill me. Literally kill me. And feed my body to Hagrid's spiders."
Just to be sure, he carefully opened the book and started leafing through the pages. Sure enough, it was written in the same gibberish as the other books in the library. But this time he wasn't angry or annoyed, just excited and determined to now figure out a way to translate it when he got back upstairs. 'Maybe Hermione will be able to?' Putting that thought aside and forcing himself to not remember the reason he came down here to begin with, Harry gently set the book back where it had been. He could pick it up later, when he was ready to leave.
Moving over to the door, he opened it to find yet another room of darkness. Once finding and igniting the hearth inside this room as well, Harry paused as he stared at what he found inside. This room was clearly a workshop of some kind. There were various tables and benches filled a lot of different knickknacks. He recognized some of them easily enough. On one table was what looked like an old muggle farm plow. Another table had what seemed to be a pile of discarded stones, some cracked and broken or with scorched surfaces, but all with carved runes upon their surfaces. Another table had a large pile of diagrams and reaction tables surrounding a basic potion set. He even saw what looked like a partially built suit of chainmail armor and plates resting upon a mannequin. On the table nearest the armor set was a large cluster of medieval weaponry, ranging from broad swords, spearheads, daggers, warhammers and axes, and even a couple of arrowheads. Sadly, all of the metal on the weapons had become rusted to the point of uselessness as the iron aged and decayed.
However, one weapon stood out from among the pile simply because it was the only weapon that still gleamed with the razor-sharp perfection of being freshly forged, sharpened, and polished. Moving forward towards this peculiar weapon, Harry gently grasped the short sword and examined it. "Wow, this looks like the same metal that Gryffindor's sword is made of." Granted, he had no idea exactly what the Sword of Gryffindor was made of, though it was clearly a magic alloy of some kind. But this sword shone with the same perfection and shine, fitting into his grasp as though it had been made specifically for him, just like the other one. "Did Gryffindor and Slytherin work together to forge the Sword? If so, then why didn't Slytherin ever use this one? Was it just a prototype like my lightsaber and the Sword was the final product?"
Setting the sword down, Harry moved over to the table that had many diagrams and charts upon. As was the case with the library, everything was written in that runic form. Unlike the library, he was able to somewhat decipher the likely meanings of the manuscripts thanks to the illustrations. He saw images he'd seen numerous times before in his schoolwork, clearly the precursors to the modern textbooks for Potions, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and even several charts dealing with Transfiguration and Herbology. But the diagram that really caught his attention was the one that was hidden towards the bottom of the pile, this one bearing a perfect image of the gleaming sword behind him. Picking up the diagram, he stared at it carefully, searchingly. Sadly, after just a few moments, he conceded defeat to being unable to read it. But rather than put it back, he took the parchment and tucked it under his arm as he moved on. This was definitely another thing he wanted to have translated, if only to figure out how the Founder(s) had managed to get the steel to stand the test of time and keep it from rusting.
But, for now, there were still other treasures to search for!
Great Hall, Hogwarts
Lunch had finally rolled around and the usual flood of students rushing for the Great Hall and the promised meal occurred. Animated conversation swept into the large chamber as the din of hundreds of voices filled it with idle topics of classwork, favorite sports and players, speculation on the Tournament, and any peculiar drama their partners had shared with them about the happenings of the outside world. All in all, it was a rather relaxed and comfortable setting not at all dissimilar to many others prior.
One of the rare exceptions to the almost universally relaxed atmosphere of the Great Hall was seated towards the far end of the Hufflepuff table with the rest of his year-mates. Cedric Diggory was picking at his food with quite disinterest while he was gazing around the great hall with a searching and somewhat concerned eye. And as he searched, he could not help the small frown on his face from growing. The object of his search was the noticeably-absent Fourth Champion, yet everywhere he looked he saw someone wearing one of the damn badges. Finally, after scanning every spare inch if his own table, did he spare one more check. It only took a passing glance over at the Gryffindor table to see that the famous Boy-Who-Lived wasn't present, much to the clear confusion of his Housemates.
"Something wrong, Cedric?" a familiar lilting voice asked from beside him as a soft body slid gracefully onto the bench beside him.
Glancing over at his girlfriend with a reflexive small but happy grin, he hummed in greeting to her. But at seeing her searching stare, he sighed, "Perhaps, Cho. Did you know that there was a special ceremony that happened a little while ago for the Champions?" Seeing her surprised and somewhat confused blink, he added, "It was just a simple test that Mr. Ollivander did to make sure all the Champions' wands were working properly. Then, we had pictures taken for the newspaper and spoke briefly with Mrs. Skeeter."
"So, what happened that has you worried?" Cho asked, nodding her head in understanding.
"Harry didn't show up."
"What? Why?" Cho asked, clearly surprised.
"We don't know," Cedric admitted. "I suppose he probably didn't know at first. Professor Dumbledore was able to catch a passing student and send them to collect Harry, but he never showed. Apparently, there was a fight of some kind down in the dungeons and one of Harry's friends had to go to the infirmary. Professor Snape thought that Harry went with them, but Madam Pomfrey says that Harry didn't show up there either. Dumbledore, Crouch, and Bagman all went searching for him. But after an hour, they gave up and we did the ceremony without him."
"Huh, that is weird," Cho said, confusion coloring her voice as her face adopted a worried expression. "You don't think something bad happened to him, do you? I mean, with how everyone in the school has been treating him and…well…" Her glance around the Hufflepuff table didn't go unnoticed to Cedric. He easily understood what she was implying.
Grimacing, he was about to retort that of course none of his house would do such a thing. But he stopped himself short, it wasn't even two years ago that everyone had become convinced that Harry's moral character was of a questionable sort, malicious even. They'd thought he'd attacked one of their own, and a lot of following talks had been of retaliation, talks that even Cedric himself had participated in on the side of getting even. It wasn't until Granger had been petrified that he'd even begun to question his usurpation, and then the boy had helped Lockhart on his Final Quest. It had taken Harry fainting in the presence of Dementors, something no dark wizard would do, for Cedric finally to believe that Harry couldn't be a dark wizard in the making.
He'd tried to make amends, to get to know the boy he'd lost Quidditch to twice and beaten only on a technicality once. He'd found him oddly bookish, yet inventive. His tome already resembled Cho's own collection of runic arrays, and he wasn't even taking the class! He'd just picked it up as a hobby over the summer, and already he was catching up to students a year ahead of him. It was with that thought that Cedric had once again found himself doubting Harry, using the very knowledge the younger man had shared to him in trust, to sour his judgment.
If he could do that, what might others in his House be thinking?
"I'm not sure," Cedric finally admitted, his eyes taking in his own house once more. "I don't want to think someone from my House could have done something to him…"
"But the Chamber?" She asked knowingly, remembering well the opinions within her own House on that matter.
"Yeah… People were against him then, and they're against him now. I think Skeeter might even try and spin his absence into something, the way her eyes lit up when she realized he wasn't coming." She'd smiled as well, throughout the whole interview. Her quill had also never stopped moving, even when no one was talking.
"That does not sound good. And you say he's been gone how long?" she asked her voice curious yet leading.
"Since morning classes?" he half asked, knowing his girlfriend had spotted something he'd missed. Following her eyes, he saw that she was searching out the other side of the Hall. Particularly, in a place he'd never look for Harry at. That way lay the Snakes.
"Well, so has Parkinson," Cho replied calmly. Doing so drew his eyes to the fact that, yes, one of Malfoy's chief sycophants was in fact gone and had been for quite a bit. Also missing from the table were a handful of Slytherin's upper years, several like Slytherin's chasers were not known for their conduct on (or off) the field. Put together, it didn't paint a very good picture.
"You don't think they might have…?" He asked, his voice slightly hoarse as he became a little worried about the younger boy.
"We should go check," Cho nodded decisively. Before he'd even had a chance to change or doubt the course, he was rising as she pulled his arm up with her and forced him with more than words into action. It was something that endeared her to him in ways beyond her natural beauty.
Smiling slightly, he knew there was only one answer he could give. "Lets."
The conversation at the head table was much more stunted and subdued. Most of the Professors that sat there had been long time acquaintances or friends for many years. They'd spoken and interacted many times and had many different conversations over the years. As such, with so many casual topics already covered, they mostly sat in comfortable silence as they tried to enjoy their meals while keeping a casual eye out for any potential trouble that might suddenly erupt among their students.
But that was only true for most of the faculty. A certain Headmaster and his Potions Master were having a hissed conversation of considerable importance.
"—and you're sure that's what happened?" Dumbledore was asking, gazing quite pointedly over at Snape.
"Why would I lie about that?" Snape snapped back somewhat irritably. He had every right to be annoyed. Dumbledore had been grilling him for details about what had happened with the missing Boy-Who-Lived during the confrontation between him and young Mr. Malfoy. "He left to escort Granger, I'm sure of it."
"…Very well," Dumbledore wasn't happy about the lack of information but at least he knew what had caused the initial mystery to spring up.
Turning back to his largely untouched plate of food, the old wizard started slowly eating his lunch as he continued contemplating the problem at hand. He barely even tasted his steak and potato stew, which also had a chunk of buttered warm rye bread on the side, and a goblet of watered-down wine. Though alcohol was bad for thinking rationally, it was exactly what he needed to calm his nerves. 'If this is going to be the theme of the Tournament, this is looking to set a very bad precedent.'
When Fudge had approached him three years ago with his plans to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, Dumbledore had immediately gone off to research everything available about the history and past of the tournament. Research that included many bizarre and outdated ceremonies, rituals, rites, and tasks that the past selected Champions had to accomplish. Needless to say, he quickly understood just why the tournament had been abandoned hundreds of years ago. Most of those rituals and tasks were dangerous for even fully grown and experienced wizards! Even he, in his youth and prime, would've had some trouble with some of them! So, after reviewing and researching everything available, Dumbledore realized that the original tournament had been less about the students competing and winning glory, and more about the various gathered nations trying to forge or cripple alliances with one another. It was all just one giant game of politics barely hidden under the auspices of an international tournament, like the Quidditch World Cup but far less fun.
Once he'd understood this, Dumbledore had approached Fudge and managed to talk him into trimming down the tournament into just three Tasks and two ceremonies, cutting out all of the rest because they were either too dangerous or were just added in for flair and potential bureaucratic and political maneuverings. Plus, all of the extra free time would give the Champions the chance to study for the classes, which is why the original tournament rules said they were exempted from school. The three Tasks were the absolute minimum required by the original tournament rules that the Champions needed to complete. The Yule Ball 'ceremony' had been just a standard political 'meet-and-greet' among Purebloods and their heirs getting to know each other and those of the other nations, disguised as winter's solstice dance. Despite the political origins, Dumbledore decided to keep this ceremony because he felt it brought fun back into the tournament.
But perhaps the single most important ceremony of the entire tournament was the Weighing of the Wands. In old times, this portion of the tournament was the only one that truly focused solely on the champions. Even if the Goblet of Fire had selected them for the tournament, if they had been found to be 'unworthy' of competing, the Champion would be declared inept and a new one would be selected (though most didn't know that since it rarely happened). The ceremony was a very simple affair of ensuring that their wands were in acceptable working order and to ensure that no one had or would tamper with them for the duration of the tournament. However, there had always been a subtle undertone to this ceremony that seemed to echo throughout the tournament in question. If one champion was more favored than another, if there was a rivalry or romantic drama between the champions and thus their nations. It didn't matter, whatever happened in or during the ceremony tended to hint towards what one could expect from the tournament as a whole.
So, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the controversial Fourth Champion, not showing up was a very big deal!
Dumbledore was always a bit conflicted with his feelings and desires towards the boy. He strongly suspected that the boy's destiny was still deeply entwined with that of Voldemort's, who he still believed was still alive out there, somehow. Two years ago, he had found his first real clue in the form of a cursed diary as to how that might still be the case, from the boy himself no less! Having watched the boy slowly grow up within these halls over the past three years, Dumbledore was sure that the boy had what it would take to finish Voldemort off when the man finally rose once more.
Although the boy seemed to have inherited his father's lackadaisical motivation, only doing the barest minimum to pass his classes, save those that actually interested him. Though, Dumbledore suspected that was partially due to Mr. Weasley's influence. However, with Remus' report of his sudden interest in Runes, Harry was finally showing some signs of his mother's intellect. He was apparently shooting through researching and mastering them at speeds that were frankly astonishing. Sure, the boy was attempting the impossible by combining Muggle technologies with magic, but he was hardly the first and most assuredly wouldn't be the last. Still, the old wizard couldn't help smiling every time the thought crossed his mind. This new hobby of his just further illustrated to Dumbledore just how much of his mother's son Harry truly was. Dumbledore had high hopes and great expectations for the boy if Voldemort didn't rise within the next decade or so.
He was so lost in thought that Dumbledore failed to notice that his bowl was empty of stew until he brought his spoon back to his mouth and didn't taste anything. Blinking and coming back to reality, the old man forcefully pushed his thoughts aside. After using his buttered bread to scrape up what little streaks of stew remained in his bowl and downing what was left of his wine, Dumbledore stood and departed from the table. He had a lost Champion to find, preferably before he managed to get himself tangled up in even more trouble than he was already going to be in.
Chamber of Secrets
It had been the better part of twenty minutes now. As Harry delved into the secrets he had found, another had been wondering just what sort of trouble she had stepped into. Each and every step of the journey had left Pansy with growing questions and a deep-seated unease. The boy's display in what was apparently the Chambers entrance hall was bad enough. But the corpse of the Ancient Serpent King? Pansy would be forever thankful that she could blame her current state on the brief swim. After all, no one would ever know that she'd briefly lost control of her bladder, save herself and the dead basilisk.
Yet instead of doing the intelligent thing, which would have been to immediately turn around upon realizing that, yes, the snake was dead, and, no, Potter had not set it as a guard. She'd instead acted like a stupid lion and followed Potter into the true sanctum of the greatest of the Hogwarts Founders. Personally, she blamed her Ravenclaw of a father for that. Ambition combined with curiosity tended to resemble courage. At least that was the story she was sticking with if anyone asked. Which is how she now found herself standing before another locked door after emerging from the pool of water for a brief swim.
Clad in only her undershirt, skirt, and socks, Pansy stared at the glowing runes on the door before her. Well, that was slightly misleading. They weren't runes per say, but they certainly might as well be since most modern wizards and witches couldn't read them anymore. A thousand years of 'culture exchange' between Great Britain and the rest of Europe, as well as William's conquest had resulted in the English language and writing changing into something completely different. The writing Pansy saw now was that of Old English. She knew it because not only did she have a thirst for knowledge but reading and writing Old English was a family tradition from her mother's side. One last flickering ember of resistance against the invading hordes who've been trying to snuff out all traces of their original culture.
The message she was reading on the door was rather ominous, but also the implications it suggested were threatening to tear apart what little of her world view remained. In simple terms, the message was a warning from Salazar Slytherin (the Founder Salazar Slytherin, she was quite sure!) to the 'lion-brained buffoon' to remember to dry and clean himself off before entering again or next time there would be 'painful consequences'. The idea that not only did Godric Gryffindor, the hated enemy of her House, know about this secret room within a secret chamber, but was also apparently a frequent enough visitor that Salazar would leave a reprimanding message to clean up after himself was so ridiculous. That it implied that the two of them had been on friendly terms. It went against everything of what she'd been taught and believed all her life!
But…how was that possible?! It was a known and accepted fact for generations that the two of them had been bitter rivals after Hogwarts' completion. An example of this was when they started taking students based of their differing views on who should be allowed to learn magic. And then there was the history of the Chamber of Secrets itself. By its very nature, the Chamber was supposed to have been a secret from the other Founders. But, admittedly, a secret that Slytherin had only shared with his own House, which is how it trickled out and eventually became known to the wizarding populace at large. That Slytherin had built the Chamber as means of hiding and storing a 'horror within' for his future heir to eventually come and purge the school of all those unworthy of learning magic. Clearly, that horror had been the basilisk she'd seen earlier, probably killed by Lockhart two years ago, because even with the mounting evidence she refused to believe that a twelve-year-old lout of a half-blood could have killed an Ancient Serpent King. Anyway, by the known facts of the Chamber, there is no way that Slytherin should've needed to do anything so trivial as leaving the equivalent of a sticky note behind for one of the other Founders like this. That implies that they must've also known about it and could even access it! But if that was case, then the known history was…wrong?
And just how many other things about Hogwarts, the Founders, and other such things had the history books gotten so badly wrong over the years as well?!
As Pansy was busy processing all this, she just continued to stare blankly at the door and the Old English message upon it. Her brain was wracking itself, trying to piece together some semblance of understanding and to restore or repair her shattering world view. She was so overwhelmed with all this new information and the insinuations it carried, Pansy didn't realize she'd been standing at the entrance of the hall for the better part of half an hour, wand hanging limply in her hand. It wasn't until the latch unclamped and the door swung open that Pansy started to snap back into reality. By the time she did, she found herself staring into the equally surprised but much more greatly alarmed eyes of the boy who'd been the source of her dilemma.
"Potter…" she said, her voice soft but neutral. She just stared at him as he recoiled in surprise, eyes widened in alarm, fumbling for his wand while simultaneously trying to hide a large leather-wrapped tome behind his back.
Tellemicus's Note: Damn, after so long, I FINALLY have been able to somewhat move past that Burj Khalifa-sized roadblock I've had in my head while trying to write the ending portion of this chapter. But now that I'm finally past it, we can move on with the storyline and get to the fun parts. You know what I'm talking about: learning to use the 'Force', completing and practicing with his lightsaber, and just making waves in the world simply by being himself. But it looks like he won't be alone in making them this time!
Fiori75's AN: Look, as a Trekkie, I will give you Jedi a bone. Star Trek Would not exist without Toy-boy Lucas. It's just ever since Revenge of the Jedi, when the wookies helped the rebelion take dowe the second Death-Star, thing have been going downhill... oh wait, that's right. That is not actually how the third movie went down, he sold out then and everything has been shit since. Unlike Star Trek, where Gene Roddenberry kept a fuck-mothering Death Grip on what was supposed to happen even after he died! Lucas sold out and we got the fucking ewoks. Hence why Star Trek will always be the better series. We. Did. Not. Sell. Out. unlike you jedi who now belong to a god damn rat... i'm sorry mouse.
Star Trek= Freedom! (TS: I call bullshit! xp Star Wars is unquestionably the best ever!)
And I really do mean that. I have a promotional button that my dad got at a science-fiction-convention. It reads Revenge of the Jedi. Star wars started to die way back even before Lucas gave us Jar Jar Binks.