Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
Today's chapter arrives, just in time for lunch...
Chapter 48
'What have you been up to?' Slytherin asked, leaning forward to peer at Harry. 'You must be awfully cheerful to forget that you aren't allowed to put your feet on my desk.' He'd been a bit tetchy since Harry had forgotten to come back to the chamber and hang him up for a few days after the ritual.
'It's not your desk anymore,' Harry reminded him, 'but yes I am happy.'
'Are you going to answer my original question?' The founder leant a little further forward, dislodging the serpent from around his neck, briefly giving Harry a glimpse of a slender, silver chain.
'My plan is taking shape perfectly,' Harry explained, still smiling, and not moving his feet off the desk.
'Which plan is this?' Salazar inquired curiously. 'You had several.'
'They're all part of the same plan really,' he grinned. 'Find the Prophecy, find out why Voldemort is after me, destroy his horcrux, or horcruxes if there are still more than one left and kill him.'
'Which part, then?' The founder asked impatiently.
'I'm one spell away from getting rid of Dumbledore for as long as the Ministry remain against him, and I can't see a way it will fail.' Harry smiled icily. 'Even Riddle's horcrux couldn't come so close.'
'Just because you cannot see a way, does not mean it doesn't exist,' Slytherin warned.
'I know,' Harry agreed, 'but if I cannot think of one after so much careful thought, then the chance of it being disrupted seems small.'
'Would you care to share this work of genius with me?'
'Dumbledore has been keeping too close an eye on me,' Harry began happily, 'with Snape's lessons in occlumency and the school wards should he ever look at them. I don't know what he's keeping his sacrifice,' both Harry and Salazar sneered, 'alive for, but if I start to look like a threat he will eliminate me.'
'You think you've found a way to outmanoeuvre Albus Dumbledore?' Salazar asked, a hint of skepticism in his tone. 'Riddle was always wary of him for a reason.'
'He thinks I am on his side,' Harry smiled, 'and why would he not. The other sides are Voldemort who murdered my parents and seeks to kill me, or the Ministry who continue to slander me. Never in his darkest dreams does he imagine that there might be a fourth side, my side.'
'So you think you will take him by surprise?'
'I will. Neville has started a group to openly flout the Ministry's rules about teaching students under Dumbledore's influence to fight. I managed to get them to name themselves Dumbledore's Army,' he grinned. 'Once the group is discovered there will be nothing Dumbledore can do. Either he tries to fight the Ministry, which helps Voldemort, or he lets the Ministry expel thirty of the students including his martyr and those closest to him.'
'If there are as few loopholes in your trap as you believe then you have done exceedingly well,' Salazar congratulated, sliding into joyous parsletongue. 'It is no more than he deserves for even thinking about trying to sacrifice my heir, a member of my family.'
'There are a few loose ends,' Harry admitted. 'I won't be in suspicion if I can indirectly betray the group, but while I'm fairly confident ordering somebody else to lead Umbridge to the list that is to be her proof will not break the contract I signed when I joined I'm not certain.'
The founder looked thoughtful. 'What are the exact terms?'
'It wasn't a specific written contract,' Harry told him. 'I will be very careful about how I word my instructions to Marietta Edgecombe, the girl who will tell Umbridge, and that should be enough.'
'You're replacing Dumbledore with the woman who tortures children,' Slytherin hissed, suddenly furious.
'Only temporarily,' Harry's smile turned a little sinister. 'On the back of the list is a map, one that I drew and concealed with an enchantment requiring an activation phrase-'
'Where did you learn to do that? I never taught you any enchanting,'
'Fleur is very good at it,' Harry grinned. 'She's taught me a few little pieces when I've asked.'
'All that time in France was worthwhile after all,' Salazar commented dryly.
'The phrase is for the Greater Good,' Harry told him. The painting enjoyed the irony every bit as much as he did, chuckling darkly. 'The map appears to lead into the forest to something important, I intend to entice Umbridge into investigating it.'
'I assume she won't be coming back from her investigation,' Slytherin remarked amusedly.
'No she won't,' Harry grinned, 'there are an awful lot of acromantula in that part of the forest, with a little help she'll wonder right into the middle of their nest unaware.'
'How tragic,' Salazar sighed, his tongue dripping with sarcasm. 'That gets rid of the two trouble causing teachers, but you still can't take advantage of it yet.'
'I think my godfather will tell me about the Prophecy if I can convince him I know enough that there's little point in withholding the rest. At the very least I should learn what the Order of the Phoenix is planning.' Harry swept his feet of the desk and tapped the time turner. 'If the worst comes to the worst I can use this to go back and change my conversations with Sirius to make sure he is convinced.'
'You're willing to experiment with it now?' His ancestor's face lit up.
'No,' Harry reminded him sternly. 'I don't know why you're so eager to lose the only descendant you have that isn't a mass-murdering megalomaniac in the currents of time.'
'You wouldn't be lost,' the painting retorted.
'How would you know?'
'I'm Salazar Slytherin,' the founder replied, but he sounded more hopeful than anything else.
'Nice try,' Harry laughed.
'Fine,' Slytherin relented. 'I wanted to ask you about something different. You're doing well to deal with the Ministry and Dumbledore, but Voldemort will make himself know soon. If he's allowed to launch a surprise attack on the Ministry you will find yourself hard-pressed to defeat him.'
'You are right,' Harry realised. 'What can I do?'
He considered his options. It was obvious that nobody would believe him if he tried to tell other people without proof, and he doubted Voldemort would be so kind as to turn up at the Ministry to prove them wrong.
'I need to make it look as if he's returned,' Harry concluded.
'And you need to do it well enough to be beyond reasonable doubt,' Salazar added. 'What did those articles say about why Voldemort wasn't back?'
'No proof of his return except the word of Dumbledore and myself, neither of whom is having much luck convincing anyone with Rita Skeeter out there defaming anyone who speaks up adjacent Fudge.'
'Anything specific?'
'Voldemort was reported dead thirteen years ago, though no body was found, and they cited the lack of the Dark Mark over any of the disappearances that were claimed to be the work of Death Eaters.'
Slytherin smiled triumphantly. 'There you have it,' he proclaimed.
'What do I have?' Harry asked, not at all following.
'If someone disappears under the Dark Mark, that should begin to make people think twice about the Ministry's propaganda. Especially if it's someone noticeable.'
'The Ministry will just cover it up,' Harry dismissed.
'So find someone willing to publish or spread the story, or make it so spectacular that it cannot be ignored,' Slytherin replied evenly.
'The Dark Mark is quite hard to miss by all accounts.' Harry had seen the court transcripts and seen the pictures from the last war. 'I could cast it in a handful of locations that make it hard to ignore, but I don't know how.'
'Find out,' Salazar shrugged, making his serpent bob upon his shoulders. 'There must be some former followers of Riddle around somewhere.'
'I suspect most of them are with Voldemort,' Harry commented wryly, 'but I'll ask around, Sirius might know.'
He reached for the mirror and started towards the nearest dark corner. 'Don't say anything,' he warned his ancestor, 'he has sharp hearing.'
'Sirius,' he said, waiting for his godfather's face to appear in the mirror.
'Harry.' It took a few minutes for him to appear. 'This isn't the best time, Podmore got himself caught and sentenced to time in Azkaban for being somewhere he shouldn't be.'
'He's an order member?'
'Yes, we're trying to re-organise everything so it works without him, but it's proving difficult.'
'I have a question, just a quick one,' Harry smiled winningly. 'Are there any former Death Eaters I should be looking out for, ones that aren't obvious?'
Sirius snorted. 'I can think of one or two straight off the top of my head. There are a handful of those who were acquitted under suspicious circumstances like Malfoy and Macnair, but the only one close enough to be a risk to you is Snape, though Dumbledore assures us he's trustworthy.'
'Snape?' Harry asked, not believing his luck was quite so brilliant.
'Oh yes,' Sirius glowered, 'don't turn your back on Snivellus, he's not to be trusted, no matter what Dumbledore says.'
'I won't,' Harry assured him, 'and I'll be taking Dumbledore's advice with a pinch of salt from now on too. A former Death Eater shouldn't be teaching at a school.'
'He doesn't always make the best decisions,' Sirius agreed, 'but I have to go, this is quite serious.'
'Bye, Sirius.' Harry raised a hand into the mirror's view just before it flared white and he found himself staring into his own, ever so slightly luminous eyes.
'Did I understand that correctly?' Salazar asked. His speech was very quiet, but slightly distorted with anger, wavering between English and Parseltongue. 'Your Potions teacher, the wizard Dumbledore forced you into learning occlumency from without knowing you could defend your mind, was, and likely still is, a Death Eater.'
'I believe so,' Harry answered coldly.
'If I were still alive.' Slytherin's speech shifted all the way into Parseltongue as angry silver and green sparks shot from his wand across the canvas, making his snake flinch.
'He knows how to conjure the Dark Mark,' Harry reminded him. 'This betrayal is a blessing in disguise.'
'What will you do?'
'I will take it from his mind,' Harry decided, turning to leave. 'I promised I'd practice with Neville for the first time before my detention, I'll be ready.'
'It won't be easy,' Slytherin warned, catching him at the door. 'If Dumbledore trusts him he's either going to be righteously angry or a very impressive occlumens.'
'Nothing that is necessary is easy,' Harry replied, smiling bitterly. 'I have an idea of how to get past his defences easily, without him ever realising, in fact.'
'What?'
'I believe he was fond of my mother.' Harry's reply echoed back through down the chamber to the founder.
He strode towards the stairs up to the bathroom, turning things over in his head. Harry needed the incantation, and this was likely the only chance he would get to learn it without anyone realising. The risk would have to be taken eventually, and it would only grow larger the longer waited.
Perhaps it would be best to learn a little more about Snape first.
He realised then that it would have been a good idea to ask Sirius, but it was too late for that, the mirror was in Salazar's study, he was halfway up the steps and Neville was already waiting for him.
Harry stepped out into Myrtle's bathroom, splashing quietly across the floor towards the exit.
'Harry?' The ghost drifted tentatively through the side of her cubicle.
'It's me, Myrtle,' he smiled. 'How have you been? Seen anyone in the Prefect's Bathroom lately?' He asked lightly.
'Not that I was interested in,' she sulked, 'but I did once watch Cedric Diggory and his girlfriend take a very long bath together.'
'I did not need to know that,' Harry remarked. He'd never be able to look at Cedric and Cho the same way again. They were an intimate couple, always staring close to each other, touching, and kissing, but there were some lines his imagination just didn't want to cross.
'There aren't many attractive male prefects at the moment,' she commented, rather wistfully. 'You'd be surprised how many couples I've seen in there, though.' She gave him a rather wicked glance. 'I remember a certain head boy and head girl going there together once.'
Harry knew instantly she was probably referring to his parents, and fought down a shudder. Myrtle probably had half a century of naked male prefects stored in her head. An idea suddenly occurred to him.
'Did my mother know Professor Snape?' Harry asked, feigning mild curiosity perfectly.
'Oh yes,' Myrtle smiled. Harry silently prayed to whatever deity might exist that she was not about to tell him housemother had Snape had bathed in the Prefect's Bathroom together. 'They were very good friends once,' she gossiped, 'but they had a big falling out one year, she was crying about it in the Prefect's Bathroom on her own.'
'Thank you,' Harry smiled, hiding the sudden malice that had welled up within him for Severus Snape. 'I need to go, Neville's waiting for me. Take care, Myrtle.'
'I'm dead, Harry,' she laughed, flushing a faint silver, before vanishing back into the pipes.
It's a fair point.
He didn't disillusion himself upon leaving this time, it was during classes for most students, though both he and Neville had a free session after Herbology today, so he wasn't afraid of being seen. It also seemed prudent to save his magic. He'd mostly recovered from the ritual, only a slight tiredness lingered, but it was best to be prudent.
Surprisingly nobody had actually commented on his lack of glasses, though whether that was due to Hermione telling everyone he must have changed to contact lenses, or the fact that nobody had cared enough was unclear to him.
Neville was leaning against the wall next to the fat lady, watching, with some apprehension as spoke with the other portraits abut singing.
'Perfect timing,' he noted, as Harry joined him. 'Are we going up to the seventh floor?'
Harry considered it.
'There not much point,' he decided in the end. 'We'll just go in there.' He led Neville into nearby empty classroom and closed the door, throwing up a silencing charm for good measure.
'I've got the hang of clearing my thoughts,' Neville told him, 'even when I was angry in Umbridge's lesson.'
'We'll find out,' Harry grinned.
'What are we doing?'
Harry adopted a more sombre expression. Neville would likely not enjoy this, even if it did make him stronger. 'I will attempt to break into your mind and see your thoughts,' he replied, 'you will do your utmost to empty them and stop me from seeing anything.'
'Will it hurt?' Neville asked, slightly hesitant.
'Yes,' Harry answered bluntly, 'but you'll be a better wizard for it.'
'Then let's go,' Neville decided, taking a seat on the desk.
Harry slipped his wand from his sleeve, raising the slim piece of ebony and staring directly at Neville.
'Legilimens,' he whispered.
He spared no effort from the spell, and Neville's thoughts were immediately known to him. Harry could see the admiration his friend had for him, the loyalty, the devotion and he followed it, glimpsing flashes and fragments of their time together, the moments in which Harry had bolstered his confidence, taught him, improved him and shown him that he was more than just a failure.
He broke the connection.
'Try again, Nev,' he suggested. 'It's not at all easy.'
He repeated the spell, just as forcefully as before, but this time he focused on the pain Neville felt from the intrusion, he concentrated on it, fed it, even as Neville struggled to clear his mind. To his credit his thoughts did eventually fade away, and Harry was left seeing nothing and ended the connection.
'That was good,' he praised him.
'What are you doing when you cast that spell?' Neville asked. 'The first time, you saw all my memories of when you were helping me,' he squirmed slightly, 'you went through every moment in which I was most grateful you.'
'I forma connection between our minds with it,' Harry explained. 'It enables me to see what you are thinking, if I can then get you to think about what I want to know, I win.'
'You aren't going easy on me, are you?' Neville asked hesitantly. 'I've never succeeded with anything the second time of trying.'
'I'm not trying any of the more insidious, crueler methods of seeing what I want,' Harry admitted, 'but that's because I'm teaching you to clear your mind, not protect a single thought from me.'
'Try,' Neville demanded. 'Do your worst.'
'Do you realise what you're asking, Neville?' Harry asked softly. 'I can drag every one of your worst memories and suspend you in them, twisting them about one another in a grotesque parody of a nightmare until your sanity leaves you.'
'Do it,' Neville responded firmly, swallowing hard, but looking determined.
'Legilimens,' Harry hissed, casting it more strongly than he ever had before.
The moment the connection was formed he fed a scatter of images to his friend. The circle of masked Death Eaters in the graveyard, the fear of the basilisk and the burn of its venom in his veins, then pain of the Cruciatus Curse, the endless torment of an instant.
Neville's mind flooded with thoughts and emotions. Fear of the Death Eaters, rage, burning hot, and the face of Bellatrix Lestrange, the hollow, empty eyes of his broken parents in the ever so white ward of St Mungo's.
Harry ended the spell and Neville slumped over on the desk, holding his temples, with tears running down his cheeks.
'I'm sorry, Nev,' Harry told him gently, 'you weren't ready to face something like that so early. I shouldn't have let you convince me.'
'When you try again,' Neville whispered hoarsely, wiping his tears away with his hand, 'I'll be better and I'll stop you.'
'You should bear in mind that I am quite talented in the mind arts,' Harry told him quietly, 'they are an obscure field I intend to master.'
'Did I do well?' Neville asked. 'I know you saw everything, but I didn't do too badly, did I?'
'Neville,' Harry placed his hand on his friends shoulder, 'you did exceptionally well. You successfully managed to clear your thoughts when in pain, keep practising it, whenever you're angry, or sad, or at all emotional, try to empty your mind, and you will quickly improve.'
'Are we done?'
'I think you've suffered enough for one day,' Harry smiled. 'I have to go and endure detention with Snape now.'
'You showed me things,' Neville murmured, 'you showed what it felt like to be under the Cruciatus Curse.'
'I'm sorry,' Harry apologised. He knew it was a terribly cruel thing to do, especially to Neville, but his friend had asked for him to do his worst, so he had.
'Don't apologise,' Neville snapped, suddenly angry. 'I'm glad you did,' his rage faded, 'it helped me understand.'
'Understand what?'
'When I was younger I used to resent my parents for not being stronger,' his friend admitted. 'It was a horrible thing to do, and I know how wrong it is, but I couldn't help it, until now I still hated them for not managing to resist, to stay sane, so I would have had parents like everyone else. I understand now.' Neville looked him in the eye, his smile spreading. 'I think that might be the best thing you've ever done for me,' he said quietly. 'I can't explain how much it means to only be proud of them like I know I should always have been.'
'You don't need to, Nev' Harry reminded him. 'Until I knew what happened to my parents I hated them with every fibre of my being for leaving me.'
He let his hand slip off Neville's shoulder and pulled him up onto his feet.
'You should head back to the common room,' he reminded him. 'We've got an astronomy essay to do for the end of the next lesson.'
'Don't remind me,' Neville groaned. 'Every single planet seems to be in some phase that indicated danger or imminent death. It's like how you used to describe Divination to us.'
'It might be a valid prediction,' Harry grinned, grateful for the lightened mood. 'If I hear the phrase Uranus is illuminated I might not be able to stop laughing before I suffocate.'
Neville chuckled, then looked rather despondent. 'I guess I'd best get started,' he realised. 'You already did some yesterday so I have to catch up.'
'We're both still ahead of Ron,' Harry assured him. 'I overheard Hermione telling him twice yesterday that if he'd paid any attention he'd know that there hadn't been an eclipse in over two years so he couldn't possibly have written about it for his whole essay.'
'I doubt he cares,' Neville commented, opening the door.
'You're probably right,' Harry agreed. 'If you're still up when I get back from Snape's detention do you want to help me enchant all of Ron's chess pieces to switch sides mid-game?'
'Can you do that?'
'Oh yes,' Harry grinned, 'he always swears when he plays, so if I use the word bloody as the activation phrase I can make them all change colour at least twenty times a game.'
'Can't they just ignore it?' Neville asked.
'Not if I do different words for different pieces,' Harry smirked, starting down the stairs to the dungeons. 'Then they'll all change at different points.'
'I think I can see where Katie learnt it all from,' Neville laughed, disappearing up the stairs towards the common room.
Harry continued on down towards Snape's office and its collection of interesting jars. He had a spell to learn by whatever means it took.
'Potter,' the teacher drawled, hovering in the shadows across from the door to his office. 'You are early.'
'Better early than late, sir,' Harry replied earnestly.
'Come in.' Snape swept from the shadows of the alcove he was lurking in into his office.
Why was he even out here?
'We will start where we left off,' the potions teacher told him, waving his wand to clear space from the centre of the room. 'Are you ready?'
Snape didn't wait for him to answer, his wand snapped up to point out menacingly from under his black eyes.
'Legilimens,' he uttered silkily, with a small, satisfied sneer.
Harry was ready. The moment the connection was made he pushed the memory to the surface, forcing it into Snape's view.
Not Harry, please no, take me instead-
His mother was screaming, Voldemort's cruel, high laughter echoing in their minds, before the words of the Killing Curse ended the memory in a flash of green. Harry could feel his pain, his guilt, far stronger than he'd hoped, then he could have dreamt. It would make this almost easy.
Harry reversed the connection, tearing back along Snape's thoughts, sending him images on the robes and masks and men he'd met in the graveyard. The potions teacher struggled to control his thoughts, but it was too late, among the myriad of memories of murder and worse Harry glimpsed Severus Snape thrust his wand into the sky, felt his magic surge, and heard him cry out the incantation.
Morsmordre.
Harry shattered the connection, ripping their minds apart, his wand tip already protruding from his sleeve, even as the former Death Eater looked up furiously.
'Obliviate,' he commanded, erasing the last few seconds. The last thing Snape would remember would be the screams of his mother before she died.
'Professor?" Harry asked, feigning some slight concern for the man.
'What was that, Potter?' The man asked, with none of his usual loathing. The words seemed empty without it. Hollow.
'My earliest memory, sir,' Harry answered honestly. 'I used to only be able to remember the words. I've always known them,' he remarked offhandedly, 'I used to murmur them to myself as a child, wondering what they meant.'
Snape was staring at him, horrified, and something cruel stirred in Harry's chest. This man had been a Death Eater, had tormented him, insulted his father and far far worse.
'The dementors in my third year, they let me remember the rest,' he continued, 'it's the only memory of my mother that I have.'
The sallow face of the potions teacher paled, twisting, despite his best efforts to conceal it, in self-loathing and agony. The cold creature of malice in Harry's chest laughed in triumph, exalting in their revenge for a thousand petty slights and insults.
'I'm sorry,' the former Death Eater whispered, all the soft strength had left his voice. 'Please leave.' The wizard was all but begging.
Harry turned on his heel and strode out, pausing only when he heard the scream from within the office and the shattering of glass. In one instant he'd caused the man more pain than Severus Snape had ever managed to inflict on him or anyone else.
It was still less than he deserved from what Harry had seen in his head, but he permitted himself a small, cold smile at his achievement regardless.
He all but ran back to the chamber under his Disillusionment Charm, curfew was close, and he couldn't afford to attract any suspicion on himself while he was balancing so many things.
'I have the incantation,' he called out to Salazar, 'I stole it from Snape's mind and modified his memory.'
'He is an accomplished occlumens,' Slytherin snapped, 'he will notice the memory loss almost immediately.'
'He was far too emotionally distraught to notice the loss of a couple of a seconds. He was more fond of my mother than I knew,' Harry smirked cruelly, 'I showed him the memory of her death and followed through his memories.'
'What will you do with it?' The founder seemed slightly saddened by what Harry had done, but he supposed it was because he had not seen Snape's memories and did not know just how much the wizard deserved it.
'I will cast it somewhere it cannot be ignored,' Harry decided after a moment's thought. 'I'm going home for the first time in fourteen years.'
'You can apparate there?' The painting was skeptical, as it often was of Harry's plans.
'I know what it looks like, I've seen enough pictures to create a portkey to the memorial, it won't take too long to learn the spell.' Harry ran his finger across the back of the books until he found the one he needed.
'It is a simple one,' Salazar agreed. 'Don't get caught.'
'I have no intention to,' Harry grinned.
Flicking through the pages he skimmed the technical description of the spell, he only needed a one-use portkey that he would then destroy, it didn't need to be perfect.
'Portus,' he tried, tapping his wand against one of the empty inkpots on Slytherin's desk. Nothing happened.
Harry tried again, concentrating harder to envision what he wanted the portkey to do. This time a slight blue glow flickered around the edges of the object, and the moment he touched it he was jerked violently forwards to roll painfully across the wet grass of another graveyard.
His surroundings were enough to make his heart beat faster, and he snatched his wand up from the floor from where it had once again escaped his sleeve. Fortunately this time there was no Bertha Jorkins to pick it up before he could. It was clearly Godric's Hollow, he recognised the church, and the ruin of his parents' house was visible just down the street. His portkey had simply missed by a small margin. He picked up the inkpot from where he had dropped it and placed it on the ground away from any graves before destroying it with a small flare of fiendfyre to ensure there was no trace of his magic here.
Moving through the graveyard he spared a moment to pause before the graves of his parents, gazing down at the black lettered inscription on the white marble.
The last enemy to be destroyed is death, he mused. Voldemort might agree.
Tracing a finger over their names, he wondered how different things might have been if they had not died, if he'd grown up in this small quiet town as just Harry Potter.
It is a futile wish, he realised, walking along the row towards the gate past a dozen ancient graves whose names were worn away.
They all bore the same sigil at the top of the tombstone, an odd triangular shape, with some unrecognisable design inside. Only the most recent of those graves had a legible name.
Ignotus Peverell.
The triangle was likely the symbol of the family who must have lived here for generations until their last family member, Ignotus, had died and been buried alongside his ancestors.
The memorial was covered in flowers, the walls of the house with graffiti, messages of good will mostly, though Harry noticed a few declarations of the Dark Lord will return.
The cold marble likenesses of his parents reminded him of the Mirror of Erised, and suddenly Harry wanted to leave, to get away from this terribly sad place where the sorrow seemed to hang over the stone like fog, thick, grey and suffocating.
'Morsmordre,' he whispered, slipping his wand from his sleeve and pointing it into the sky.
AN: Please read and keep on reviewing, thank you to everyone who does, the more reviews I get the faster I write!
