Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
I have now returned from Tanzania, and the site is alive again, so posting will recommence. Everything has been rewritten, but it's just little things here and there to try and make sure you all get the right perception of events :) obviously I want you all to reread and review again, but no pressure, it's probably only worth it if you disliked something and want to be sure it's actually gone.
Chapter 15
'Did you ever work out what the note you left yourself meant?' The portrait asked as Harry crumpled up the piece of parchment entitled The Big Book of Future Tournament Tasks.
'I can guess,' he nodded, setting fire to it with his wand. It would be best to get rid of the evidence that he was using a time-turner illicitly, just in case somebody did manage to come down here. Harry thought the eventuality unlikely, but Fawkes had managed and it would be unwise to underestimate Dumbledore's intellect.
It would be rather hard to explain.
'Did you guess?' Salazar pressed.
'There were dragons, the tiny model dragon that was used to select them bit me, and Katie Bell, one of my Gryffindor house-mates approached me after the match.'
'The small one bites,' Salazar smirked. 'Why so ambiguous?'
'If I had been forewarned too specifically the model would not have had the chance to bite me and I would not have been motivated to take it into the arena with me,' Harry began to explain, 'but if I hadn't told myself at all I probably would have ignored it and missed how useful it ended up being. It had to be just right.'
'Very astute of you,' the portrait complimented. 'It explains why you were grinning to yourself when you wrote the note, too.'
'I've never played a prank on myself from the future before,' Harry admitted. 'I found the concept entertaining.'
'So did Godric,' the painting grumbled, 'but he didn't have the decency to carry out his childish activities on himself.'
There was a brief interlude while Harry stacked the books Salazar had recommended he read on the desk. Most of them were ancient, leather-covered, heavy things with blackened pages and fading ink. Half of them were written in english so archaic Harry could barely understand it.
'What about Katie?' the founder asked when he finished.
'I can't be sure, because I didn't ignore her and see the consequences, but I imagine if I had ignored herm she would have been angry and I might have come to regret it.' Harry suspected the note had been left more for the purpose of Katie and their conversation than anything else. She had a short temper and was prone to taking revenge when she felt herself truly wronged.
'Important, is she?'
Harry considered that carefully.
'She's a friend and a team mate. Katie's also one of the few of my house-mates who never completely turned their back on me and has been trying to help me with the others all the while.'
'Don't want her changing her mind and undoing everything she did,' Salazar nodded. The snake mimicked the motion.
'That and I don't really have any reason not to talk to her. We were never close enough for me to expect her to instantly stand by me.' Katie had never really been more than a close acquaintance and team member before this year. He had spoken to the trio she was part of on and off, but normally just to say hi and chat about quidditch.
'She did, though,' his ancestor pointed out.
'In her own way, and not very openly, but I suppose she did, yes,' Harry agreed.
'I told you that you'd find people to stand with,' Salazar reminded him magnanimously.
Harry levitated the pile of books off the desk and lifted the portrait off the wall to carry Salazar out into the main chamber. The founder would not permit the use of any magic that was not tightly controlled in his precious study.
'Now I can finally teach you about the things I was exceptional at,' the painting rejoiced. 'I never really got to teach anyone about these before, you're the first real Heir of Slytherin.'
Harry leant the portrait against the foot of one of the serpent effigies and took a seat on the floor in front of the painting. Blood magic, and by extension parselmagic, were imprecise arts.
'Where to begin,' Salazar muttered excitedly.
'The basics?' Harry suggested. Slytherin looked rather crestfallen.
'Fine,' he sighed. 'It will an age to get to the exciting things, but I suppose it's better than you accidentally destroying the chamber… or yourself,' he added as an afterthought.
This had all the indications of being a very long, theoretical discussion.
'The only real theory behind blood magic is that it is based in sacrifice,' Salazar informed him, 'and the only real rule, is that whatever you sacrifice must be equal to whatever you are trying to achieve.'
'That's it?'
'Of course that isn't it,' Salazar exploded. 'Blood magic is a very subtle, delicate thing. It requires a full, true understanding of magic and self. You cannot really sacrifice something when you do not know its value, nor can you attain a result you do not already understand the implications of.'
'What can I actually do with it?'
'Anything and everything,' the portrait responded. 'Parselmagic is merely an example of complex blood magic. This chamber, the thoughts of sufficiently intelligent serpents and our magic, are all bound to the blood that flows in my veins, and thus in yours. It is my finest creation,' the portrait announced proudly. 'The ability to speak to animals was once more common and applied to more than just snakes, but over time it was lost. The last witch recorded as being capable of speaking to animals died half a millennia before I was born. I attempted, originally through other means, but eventually through blood magic, to recreate part of what was lost. I was not prepared to sacrifice anything more than I did, so my piece of magic only responds to serpents as they are easily summoned.'
'What did you have to sacrifice?'
'Something that was of equal value to me,' Salazar replied, 'someone, to be precise.'
'You sacrificed a person,' Harry exclaimed, horrified.
'She was dying already,' the founder snapped. 'We sacrificed the little time we had left together, much as it meant to us, to create something that would aid our children and their descendants for as long as they survived.'
'Sorry,' Harry apologised. 'I should have known better than to assume.'
'Yes you should have,' the portrait retorted viciously. 'You do not understand the magnitude of the sacrifice. I and my daughter searched for many years for an artefact rumoured to be able to cheat the laws of death and enable us to speak with her again. I never found it. I was forced to give up when I became to old hunt for it, but my daughter had not before I died. It is possible she was successful, but I would not know either way. That sacrifice defined the rest of the lives of myself and my daughter in one way and then the rest of our descendants in another. That is the power blood magic can wield.'
'How does it work?' Harry asked, eager to move away from the sensitive topic.
'Blood is the most potent magical medium, personal and puissant. Blood magic makes use of it as a conduit through which to perform otherwise impossible feats.'
That struck a familiar tone with Harry.
'Like surviving the Killing Curse, perhaps?' Harry raised a finger to trace his scar.
'There are very few pieces of magic capable of achieving that,' Salazar replied thoughtfully. 'The Killing Curse is not a simple spell. It is a derivation of the only other field as powerful and complex as blood magic itself. Blood magic could be used, but it would come at the cost of the caster's life, or more, rendering the protection irrelevant.'
'But you could cast it to protect someone who shared your blood?'
'Perhaps,' the founder mused. 'It would not be easy. To make a whole bloodline immune to such a powerful curse would cost more than anyone has to give.'
'I survived it,' Harry told him quietly. 'When I was a baby Voldemort came to kill me. He managed to murder my parents, but his intended final victim reflected his curse back onto him.'
'That could well be blood magic,' Salazar agreed. 'If both your parents were involved then only your exact blood, a mix of their own, would be afforded protection. It would reduce the sacrifice to a level that would be possible to make, though it would have still been very dear indeed.'
The painting frowned and stroked the head of the snake that curled around its shoulders. 'From how you described events I would guess that they carried out a blood magic enchantment that would come into effect should they both die to keep you safe. Your safety from this attacker would be the goal and it would certainly constitute as a sacrifice dear enough to protect you.'
'It lasted at least as long until I was eleven,' Harry remembered. 'When Voldemort tried to harm me in my first year here he burned at my touch.'
'It may still be in effect. Your parents sacrificed their lives and every moment they would have spent with their child, there is little of greater value to a parent.'
'I'd rather not need it,' Harry decided.
'You will not,' Salazar reassured him, 'but it is a powerful advantage while it lasts. The magic will protect you in anyway it can as long as it lingers in your blood. Still, it goes without saying that you should avoid lethal spells, especially the Killing Curse.'
'Why especially? Dead is dead.'
'Most lethal spells are really no different from other curses in that they just cause something to affect you. In the case of most lethal spells the effect is what truly kills you. The Killing Curse is derived from soul magic. It literally tears your soul from your body. The curse kills you outright rather than causing or creating something to do so.'
'Soul magic?'
'Not something I ever more than dabbled in,' Salazar admitted. 'It is the equal of blood magic in some ways, but far more abstract in its concept and very dangerous because of it. I know of few uses for soul magic worth their cost. The Killing Curse is one of the few soul magic spells that has no permanent effect. Using it causes the soul to fracture, but over time, in the right conditions, a soul can heal. If you are interested there is a very old Egyptian book in my study. It's hardly a guide to the field, but the wizard who wrote it, Seth, is attributed with the first use of the Killing Curse. He was likely its creator.'
'The name sounds familiar,' Harry frowned.
'You might have heard it in the muggle world. The muggles of Egypt used to us that name for their God of murder. Whether there's a connection is unclear.'
It seemed a fairly obvious connection to Harry. A wizard capable of using an unblockable, spell that killed instantly and left no mark upon the body would have left an impression in the days before the Statute of Secrecy.
'Did you bring all the books I recommended?' Salazar asked, gazing at the still floating tower of tomes.
'Yes.' Harry named them one after the other, descending down the stack.
'The Secrets of the Darkest Arts?' Slytherin questioned when he reached the final tome.
'I didn't mean to bring that,' Harry realised, staring at the weathered book and the sheafs of parchment wedged within the pages. 'I must have stacked the other books on top of it in the study.'
'It probably has something useful in it,' Salazar decided. 'Blood magic was used in quite questionable ways and the element of sacrifice didn't help its reputation any. It will likely feature in there somewhere.'
'I'll read it last,' Harry conceded. It was the largest of the books and pieces of old, ivory parchment stuck out from between the pages towards the very end. The edges of annotations and notes in a neat, flowing script were visible on some.
Harry hadn't had the chill of seeing that writing since reading the diary and watching Tom Riddle write his name in flaming letters in the air of this very chamber.
'Take them to the Room of Requirement after this tournament meeting you have to attend,' Salazar suggested, 'just make sure you aren't seen reading them and bring them back to the study afterwards. Most of those books were old and valuable when I bought them; they'll be worth a fortune now.'
Harry cast a quick time-checking spell only to find that it would soon be time for the meeting.
How does he even know what the time is?
There was no watch or clock in the study, and Salazar hadn't even known the year when Harry came down into the study for the first time.
'There's nothing else I can teach you until you've read those and understood the two principles of blood magic and their applications. It isn't a pure subject like transfiguration, but it can be used to augment or create wards, enchantments and other such areas.'
The painting suddenly went very quiet.
'I just quoted Godric,' Salazar murmured in absolute disgust. 'He used to go on and on about how blood magic wasn't really a field in its own right.'
Harry carried the portrait back, ignoring the founder's rambling about Godric's disdain for his areas of expertise. He had learned to just wait until the painting had finished rather than being ignored when trying to interrupt.
It's probably a result of being on his own in here for a thousand years.
Salazar was still grumbling about Godric's lack of appreciation of his parselmagic when Harry left, taking his cumbersome golden egg with him.
'All our champions are here,' Bagman cried delightedly as Harry entered the room. Crouch gave him a disapproving frown for being late.
'The first task,' the weary official began dryly, 'is over. You have each obtained the golden egg your dragons were guarding and achieved a score for your methods.'
'Some of which were spectacular,' Bagman cut in enthusiastically, staring at Harry. The man was dressed in the black and yellow of his former quidditch team, but the robes looked considerably tighter than they must have been a decade ago.
'The egg,' Crouch continued with no hint he had even heard Bagman speak, 'is your clue for the second task. Solve it.'
Harry examined the object he was holding and noticed most of the others doing the same. There was nothing of note on the outside he could see.
I'll have to try opening it.
It made sense for the clue to be inside, given the object it was contained within was an egg.
Cedric was turning his over in his hands, Fleur was running her wand over it lightly, but casting nothing, and Krum was shaking his curiously, wearing an expression of mild displeasure. Harry suspected he preferred the more active, practical sort of tasks.
'Well unless any of you have questions this meeting is concluded.' Crouch did not seem the sort to answer questions, so Harry refrained from asking him how to open the egg.
'Harry,' Bagman caught his arm at the door. 'If you want a hand with the egg just give me a shout,' he whispered. He walked away with a wink, but Crouch cut him off with a stern expression and the two held a furious, muttered argument.
Harry received the distinct impression that Ludo Bagman was being severely dressed down for his offer assistance. He get some sympathy for the for the former beater, but only until he remembered that the man was a poor gambler and likely offered with his own interests at heart.
He should have been more cunning and not got caught.
Cradling his clue to the next round beneath is arm, he set off in the direction of the Room of Requirement.
Harry got as far as the Great Hall before he was stopped.
'Ginny,' Harry greeted coolly. She hadn't spoken to him since the beginning of the year and the World Cup. He had been surprised she hadn't tried; his isolation would have been the perfect chance to get closer to him and even if he had noticed he might not have cared.
'Harry,' she replied, very nervously.
'You stopped me,' he reminded her.
'I know.' She flushed slightly. 'I wanted to say sorry.'
'A lot of people have been from what I've heard.'
'A lot of people didn't want to try and stand up to Angelina and all the seventh and sixth years.' Ginny shifted uncomfortably, but Harry wasn't about to take pity on her. She might have hexed Ron, but no girl who professed to love someone, which he knew Ginny had done, ignored their intended partner for half a year.
'Angelina is having a change of heart, he told her. Harry rather suspected that she knew that. The timing of Angelina's change of mind and the sudden rush of apologies did not seem like a coincidence.
'Katie said that, did she?' There was far too much bitterness in Ginny's time for Harry to stomach. Ginny had missed her chance. She could have spoken up for him like Katie had, but she, like so many other Gryffindors, had not been brave enough.
How ironic.
'She did,' Harry replied, adding a little ice to his voice.
'I didn't turn my back on you,' she insisted. 'I just didn't want to suddenly act all close with you, because,' a red flush was steadily creeping up her neck and cheeks, 'I was afraid you'd think I was just trying to get close to you.'
'You should have done,' Harry told her bluntly. 'I probably would have noticed, but I wouldn't have minded all that much.'
'It's too late, isn't it,' she realised in a very small voice. Harry gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.
'Sorry,' he said eventually. 'If it helps I'll accept your apology.'
'I'd like that,' she smiled. 'I was hoping to be someone better this year, not just Ron's little sister who got into trouble and needed rescuing.'
'You succeeded,' Harry reassured her. 'I haven't seen you stick your elbow in a butter dish in years.'
'You saw that,' Ginny's flush returned.
'I tried not to laugh.' He regarded her more seriously. 'I'm not the same boy who rushed down to the Chamber of Secrets after a basilisk to save you anymore, Ginny.'
'I know,' she admitted. 'I don't think you were ever really the boy I couldn't be in the same room as without hiding. Hermione said you'd changed.'
'She's right.' Harry's voice cooled considerably at the mention of the witch who had broken his wand. He would be civil with Ginny and those who never really knew him well enough to want to stand up for him, but Hermione and her ilk were another matter altogether.
'Touchy subject,' she winced.
'You would not be fond of the witch who broke your wand either. I heard what happened to Ron.'
'He was being an idiot,' Ginny scowled, 'he still is.'
'Still?' Harry had not seen hide not hair of Ron since their fight in the common room.
'He and Hermione have some ridiculous theory that something happened to you at the World Cup. They think you were hit by some dark curse and that its affected you in the head.' Ginny snorted, clearly not thinking much of the idea.
'Does anyone actually believe that?' Harry asked incredulously.
'Seamus and Dean, but a lot of the house is just sick of the whole thing now. Most are just avoiding anyone involved or waiting to see who turns out to be right. Neville still hangs around Ron and everyone, but it's because he hasn't got the courage to go make other friends.' Ginny seemed thoroughly unimpressed with all of them and she wrung her hands irritatedly.
Harry thought it quite appropriate the ones who had ignored and shunned him were now being ostracised in turn.
'They do deserve it,' Ginny agreed, seeing his smile.
The Great Hall was starting to fill with people as lunch drew near and Harry began to shift restlessly from on foot to the other. He could sense that Ginny was waiting for something, but he had no idea what it might be.
'What else?' He asked impatiently, the noise was getting too loud for his comfort. Harry had always disliked loud places and being near other people, especially crowds, but all the time he had spent alone or in the chamber has exacerbated things.
'I was hoping you'd come eat lunch with us,' she admitted.
Us?' Harry was automatically wary. Ginny was friends with a lot of people who had turned their backs on him. People he didn't particularly care to speak to.
'Me, the twins, Katie will be there,' she finished hurriedly and a little sadly. Ginny was not entirely over her crush, it seemed, as though well on her way to accepting things she still bore a grudge against Katie Bell.
It was a slightly illogical thing for her to do on Harry's opinion, as he had never consciously shown any interest in her. Admittedly she was the only girl he had hugged apart from Hermione, but Harry was fairly confident that a hug like that was quite innocent.
'I have to go play with this thing,' he answered, tapping the top of his golden egg. It made a surprisingly hollow ringing sound.
'I see,' Ginny said sadly. 'I hope the second task goes as well as the first,' she told him by way of goodbye.
It has to go better. I have to be better.
There was no way he would be able to beat Fleur Delacour if he didn't improve and he quite wanted to beat her. Salazar had convinced to him to try and win to get experience and that was his primary reason, but wiping the proud smile off the French witch's face came a close second.
Harry left the Great Hall before he was accosted by anyone else. He had decided to be civil with the Gryffindors that had not directly turned against him, but a confrontation with Ron or Hermione would likely turn as nasty as the last.
Making his way swiftly up to the seventh floor and the hidden room opposite the tapestry of tap dancing trolls Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to be away from all of the students. His feat with the dragons had turned disdain and anger to pride and respect, but to Harry, states were stares and he did not like them.
The Room of Requirement had taken the form of a rather simple, plain room. There was a bench covered in carvings of half-fish, half-human creatures wielding tridents. The swarm of what Harry assumed to be mermaids swam in excited shoals over the bench, scattering when he approached to sit.
A small bubbling pool commanded the centre of the room.
It was not exactly what Harry had had in mind when thinking of a place in which he could open the egg to get the clue, but he had yet to fully comprehend the subtler nuances of the room Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw had made. Neither of the two other founders had the foresight to leave a painting, or, if they had, asking the room for it did not bring them to him.
Harry turned the egg over in his hands, looking for a catch or clasp. There was none, but tapping the egg with his wand caused it to split in four and fall open.
A ghastly screeching filled the room and Harry slammed the egg shut again.
Some clue that is, he seethed, angry at the loud, sudden noise. He really hated violently noisy surprises. The mermaids on the bench froze at the screaming sound and gestured at him angrily. The carvings seemed no more fond of the noise than he had been.
He dropped the egg on the floor and kicked at it moodily. Harry had a while until the second task, for now he would focus on Salazar's teaching of blood magic. It was likely to be much more important to him if his parents really had used it as his shield when he was a baby.
The egg rolled across the floor next to the bubbling basin of water, teetering gently on its edge. Harry ignored it and reached for his stack of books on blood magic. They were a link, no matter how tenuous, to his parents and much more interesting than the golden clue.
AN: Please read and review, thanks to everyone who has!
