Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: …at the bottom.
17 November – Sunday
HGPOV
Hermione shifted in her seat for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on her book – a terribly interesting charms reference – and pretend that she wasn't sneaking looks at Harry over it ever few seconds. It wasn't easy. She'd never really had a crush on a boy before, but then, no boy had ever saved her life before, either.
She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting of "The Harry Potter" after reading about him, but it was probably something similar to muggle tween celebrities. Beautiful and untouchable and somehow perfect in every way – or at least with the appearance of such. And, she had to admit, at first glance, Harry was all of that and more. He was completely cute and brilliant and so nice and basically perfect. It hadn't really surprised her when they hadn't gotten along in the beginning. The cute, popular boys had never liked her before.
And then he'd come and found her when she'd been in the bathroom crying because of that foul oaf Ronald, and he'd been so very sweet. She'd seen a side of him that she never had before. She wasn't sure if anyone at Hogwarts had seen that side of him. So real and human. That's when she'd realized that he wasn't perfect and that he needed someone to see him for who he was and not the celebrity.
And… that was when she'd really fallen in love with him.
The fact that he'd then gone and been all heroic and saved her life immediately afterward had just ensured that she was a goner for life.
Of course, she'd learned a lot more about Harry Potter since Halloween. Since she'd been spending time with him alone in the library, she'd found that he wasn't always as warm and nice as he appeared. In fact, he could be downright cold sometimes. He got this look in his eye when he was annoyed with her… It was like… It made her feel rather like a fly about to be swatted – small and helpless and a little bit scared. It also made her proud, in an irrational way. Proud that she could see that side of him that she was sure no one else did.
Then there was the Life Debt between them. She still blushed to remember how horrifically she'd blundered that. She hadn't read about Life Debts before, so she hadn't realized exactly what it meant. When he'd invoked the debt, she'd stupidly thought that it meant he was just using her or something. It had happened to her before. A popular boy being nice to her just to get her help with homework or something like that. That, of course, was ludicrous because the last thing Harry needed was her help academically. He'd just seemed so cold when he said it, and it had sounded like… like he really didn't want her around.
But then she'd read about Life Debts and she'd realized that wizards considered it an honor to fulfill a Life Debt. And she'd really thought about it and figured out that Harry wouldn't have enforced that particular demand if he'd truly been quit of her. One doesn't demand that another keep his secrets unless he intends for her to learn his secrets. And, yes, he wasn't exactly spilling his guts at the first opportunity, but he obviously expected her to be around him enough to figure them out.
As soon as she'd realized her blunder, she'd tracked him down and apologized profusely for the misunderstanding. He'd been gracious enough about it that she was sure he'd expected her to do just what she'd done. If possible, it was even more embarrassing to realize that she was so predictable to a boy that remained a mystery to her.
She wondered what he must think of her. Was she just some annoying bookworm who didn't know how to take a hint and leave him alone? Did he appreciate being able to study in silence without being alone as much as she did? Was there any chance at all that he could ever like her as more than a friend?
She self-consciously shoved part of her bushy hair behind her shoulder. Probably not, but if Harry was anything, it was unconventional. If anyone could see passed her bossy, bookworm nature and see something in her worth liking, surely it would be him?
"This makes no sense!" Harry snapped suddenly, startling her badly. His voice was pitched to a whispered hiss with respect to the fact that they were in the library, but his annoyance was nonetheless quite clear. "I have found no less than three completely dissenting explanations on the difference between Light and Dark magic."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, setting down her own book to focus on him completely. He didn't talk to her too often while they were alone in the library, but she absolutely loved it when he did. He was completely brilliant, but he didn't really debate academics in general. Not that there were a lot of people in the Gryffindor Common Room looking to debate academics. She loved to listen to the way his mind worked and even play Devil's Advocate, even though he always won their debates.
"This book," Harry explain, giving an irreverent shove to the offending text, "asserts that Dark magic is defined as any magic created for the explicit purpose of doing harm to a human being – note that it rather hypocritically ignore all those spells that may have been created for the explicit purpose of doing harm to goblins, house-elves, veela, centaurs, or any other magical creature that is every bit as sentient as humanity. This book, on the other hand," he stabbed a finger into another of the open books in front of him, "is quite clear on the fact that Dark magic is defined as any magic that requires negative emotions, such as anger or hatred to cast, whereas any spell that requires positive emotions, such as happiness or love is considered Light magic. Those that do not require an emotional component are labeled as Neutral magic, which is something that most of these books don't even acknowledge as existing.
"Finally, this book," he waved dismissively at the one he'd just grown too frustrated to continue reading, "makes no acknowledgement of any such thing as Light magic, but insists that Dark magic is a perversion of magic that poisons or sometimes even fractures the human soul to use and invariably drives the user insane over time.
"Furthermore, I have found lists of Dark Lords and Dark Wizards known to exist over time. There are even some speaking about famous Light Wizards, however, in all of my searching, I could discover nothing that actually explained how they are differentiated except perhaps by their deeds. From all of this, I can only conclude that no one knows for certain what Dark Magic is or perhaps that it is merely something made up to classify spells that the Ministry deems inappropriate. Considering how many records there are of perfectly sane Dark Wizards, I find it exceedingly difficult to credit the theory that it drives people insane. I suspect that to be propaganda hatched by "Light" wizards. Given how much I've heard about insane wizards and witches that are not tied to Dark magic, I suspect that the wizarding world needs to devote a lot more resources to psychology and psychiatry, but that's another issue entirely.
"Dark, as applied to a witch or wizard, seems to be intended to mean those that use Dark magic, but is much more accurately termed to apply to any criminal regardless of the magic that they use. It is also used by the public to label anyone suspected of doing 'Dark' magic or participating in criminal activities. Entire family lines tend to be stuck with the label, actually.
"All I can conclude is that Dark Magic is a manmade label that has virtually nothing to do with the kind of magic one uses and a lot to do with the political climate, one's personal leanings, and current Ministerial dictates."
She could only stare at him in more than a little bit of wonder as he concluded that rant. Had he really just ripped apart the greatest socio-political dividing force in the wizarding world? Was it possible that it was all actually built on a platform of prejudice and manipulation?
Before she could even begin to put together any sort of rebuttal, he stood and walked away, his curt, "see you later," making it clear that she wasn't meant to follow.
With a disappointed sigh at his departure, she pushed aside her own book and eagerly collected those he had left behind. She had to read this for herself and figure out how much truth was behind his conclusion. Of course, she expected it to be considerable. Despite being a boy of strong convictions, she'd also discovered that Harry was not prone to being blinded by his own beliefs and desires. No, he tended to be extremely methodical when it came to research. He wanted to explore every available opinion and slant on an issue and then find the truth. And if that truth went against what he wished to be true, he might do a little more research, but she'd never seen him deny something obvious because he wished that it wasn't.
With that in mind, she had a pretty good idea of what she was going to find, but she wanted to read it for herself anyway.
HPPOV
"Good morning, Lord Slytherin," Harry greeted the portrait just a few minutes after leaving Hermione in the library. If there was one place he could get an answer to his question, Salazar's library would be the place.
"Greetings, young Heir," Salazar responded in kind. He'd been very specific with Harry about proper ways to address people. Harry couldn't really use that too much because it wouldn't fit at all with his Boy-Who-Lived persona. He was muggle-raised, after all. He was known to be intelligent and studious, but he was also a Gryffindor. He'd never heard anyone in Gryffindor using proper etiquette and addressing people by proper titles. At least not here in school. Salazar, however, was likely to not let him in if he didn't address him as he deserved.
Salazar said nothing more, simply swinging open to grant him entrance. One thing Harry had learned since he'd started coming here was that the way he'd just entered had been a secret rear entrance when the rooms were created, which is why he entered into a store room. The original entrance was beyond the other side of the library, passed the drawing room and formal parlor. Now it was nothing more than a blank stretch of wall.
Once he got into the library, Harry sat down at the table facing the portrait and pulled over a roll of parchment, quill, and ink that he'd situated there for just this purpose.
"You look like you have a question," Salazar's portrait smirked down at him.
Harry nodded, "Is there a difference between Light and Dark magic? Or, better, is there even such a thing as Light and Dark magic?"
Salazar's smirk turned into an approving smile. "Very good, my heir. Very good. The answer is no. Light and Dark magic as they are understood today are complete fabrications. To my knowledge, the myth first appeared around 8,000 years ago when Daeal Sita, Lady of House Sita failed in her revolution and was denounced as the first Dark Lady. 'Dark', at that time, was defined as any who dared to stand against the Magick Blessed king of the land. Of course, later evidence strongly suggests that Magick herself had nothing to do with the monarch of that land, when an assassination succeeded in leading to a revolution nearly two centuries later.
"Nevertheless, the designation of 'Dark' was adopted rather quickly by other lands, and the definitions varied, but in general focused on the theme of 'Dark' being anything that was opposed to the present governmental body. Within half a millennium, 'Dark' had become a commonly accepted term throughout most of Europe and Africa and even into parts of Asia.
"It was around 6,000 years ago that the notion of 'Dark magic' really took off. It was at the culmination of a war, not surprisingly. Whilst the winners were rewriting their recent history to their liking, they included in this a list of spells and rituals created by their enemies – magic that had been used against them. They declared it 'Dark' and banned its use or even a record of how it was done. The winners of that war were the liberals of their culture. The conservatives, the traditionalists, were the losers and thus the 'bad guys'. It is that war, fought in central Europe, that was the beginning of the modern concept of 'Light' as the liberals and 'Dark' as the conservatives.
"There were changes in various areas as further wars were fought over the following millennia, but the concept persisted in the world of my youth and still survives today in most of the magical world. As I understand it, the ICW nations, which encompass the majority of the magical world, are weighted close to seventy percent in favor of the 'Light'. Our traditions are dying, our history is being forgotten, and the Forsaken are not only growing more powerful, but if I understand correctly, they now outnumber us around 700 to 1."
"You sound like you want me to do something about it," Harry couldn't help but note despite the fact that he knew Salazar hated to be interrupted.
"Of course, I do," Salazar snapped. "Magical society has existed for 20,000 years, and those Magick forsaken animals could potentially wipe us out. Even if they do not, we are in very real danger of all of our history and culture being subsumed beneath the heathen doctrine of the Forsaken as the liberal fools try to mold us in the image of those Magick will not touch and call it progress."
The man looked somewhat insane again, Harry noted dispassionately. "I understand all of that," Harry nodded, because he really did. "I'm just not certain that I'm the man for the job. You want me to be a Dark Lord, to lead a revolution against the liberals in control of Britain, and then probably the ICW. While I admit that I haven't studied the subject in great detail yet, I am aware of what happened to the last two Dark Lords in Europe. One is, to this day, rotting in a prison of his own making and the other was killed in the process of trying to murder me, as a baby. Sorry, but I'm not all that eager to get in line to be next."
Salazar's anger calmed somewhere during that and he looked visibly startled by the end. "Tom is dead? He tried to kill you?"
"Um…" Harry frowned, caught off guard. "Tom, as in your last heir to come down here? Are you telling me that Tom became Voldemort?"
Salazar nodded distractedly. "Yes, he fancied that name for himself. I don't begrudge him that. It would be difficult to take seriously a Dark Lord Tom or a Dark Lord Riddle… He's dead, though?"
Harry shrugged, "Some say that he is. Others say that he'll be back. I have no idea."
"Hm," Salazar hummed thoughtfully, "I can't be sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if he'd survived. He was quite assiduous in his quest for immortality. I don't think I've ever met anyone quite so frightened of death."
Harry's brow rose as he thought about that. Voldemort was afraid of death – paranoid, even. That was a strange thought. Everyone was afraid of Voldemort, but he'd never heard of Voldemort being afraid of anything, before. Well, no, that wasn't true. People said that he feared Dumbledore. It made Harry hate the old man more, for some reason. He supposed he was relating to the former Dark Lord on some level now that he realized the man had been an heir of Slytherin as well.
It was such a human thing to fear, death. It wasn't a fear that Harry shared. He'd wished for death too many times to truly fear it, though he had no desire for it anymore. And Rhast never would have let him try to greet death sooner than necessary.
"It's no wonder your name has such a bad reputation," Harry snorted after a long moment of silence. "You incite all of your heirs to sedition."
"Yes, well," Salazar said sourly, "being dead myself, there is little more that I can do to preserve my world than to educate my heirs and… encourage them to take the action I cannot."
"Well, I'll keep it in mind," Harry promised, "but I don't think I'm all that interested in being a Dark Lord." The image from the mirror flashed through his mind and he hastily banished it. That happened at least once a day – sometimes more. Especially when he was around Draco or Dumbledore. He wasn't sure that it would ever stop happening. Not until he'd either achieved his desires or truly changed them. The enchantment of that mirror was insidious and unrelenting even though he had looked into it only once.
No, he could achieve his desires without becoming a Dark Lord. Of course, he'd have to be careful to avoid getting caught torturing and murdering people to death if he planned to return to polite society afterward, but he could do it if he planned it properly. And he could see his potential enemies tremble in fear of him without being known as a Dark Lord. There were more ways to threaten people than with physical pain and death, after all. With enough political and fiscal power he could destroy his enemies entirely within the realm of legality. Well, planted evidence or the like may sometimes be necessary, but it would all seem legal.
The fact that Salazar didn't look the slightest bit dissuaded by his decision left him wary. Doubtless, the portrait figured he still had six and a half years to change his mind. Harry planned to stick to his guns though. He was not going to die young or spend more than half of his life in some prison in an attempt to bring satisfaction to the underdogs of wizarding society – the conservatives, as Salazar called them.
Hopefully Voldemort was still alive. He could champion The Cause and Harry could continue to worry about just himself and Rhast. With luck, Voldemort wouldn't take the incident between them when Harry was a baby too personally. It was hardly Harry's fault that the world decided to deify him for something completely outside his control. Maybe if he made that stance public Voldemort would leave him alone.
9 December – Monday
HPPOV
Harry tapped an almost inaudible rhythm against the edge of the table with one hand, his other holding a book that he'd been not-reading for over an hour. Rather than spending his early mornings exploring the castle as he'd done the first few months here, Harry now spent the time studying with Salazar. Though, officially, he was learning Latin, Salazar always made sure to include some conversation about the Heathens (muggleborns), Apostates (halfbloods), and Liberal Fools (Light purebloods). He was a man of extremely strong convictions and he never missed an opportunity to foist those convictions on his heir.
Though Harry maintained that he had no interest in being a Dark Lord, and he knew that he found the Light purebloods and halfbloods rather distasteful for their willingness to abandon their own culture, he was less certain with regard to muggleborns. Though he understood Salazar's feelings on the matter as well as was possible given the fact that he had no family at all, much less children, he wasn't sure that he shared those feelings. Oh, he knew himself well enough that he suspected he was capable of following Salazar's bloody example if he suffered such a tragedy later in life as Salazar had with his second son. That didn't mean that he was totally ready to vilify all muggleborns though. It really wasn't their fault for being born as they were. It wasn't their fault that the Light dominated government allowed them to grow up ignorant and didn't even offer proper instruction on wizarding culture when they finally did enter the wizarding world.
Hell, Harry himself was in the same situation. Though his magic hadn't been stolen, he'd been raised in ignorance just as they and he credited himself with no fault for the fact that he entered the magical world ignorant. That could be blamed entirely on the Ministry's current policies regarding muggleborns. Well, that and his aunt's pathological aversion to magic.
No, he couldn't quite see how he could blame the muggleborns. He couldn't even fully blame those like Dean Thomas who entered the wizarding world and didn't even try to learn anything about his new world that wasn't required for his classes. It really should be required for them to learn. There should be a wizarding culture class that was required for muggle-raised students, including the halfbloods that grew up mostly in the muggle world.
He blamed the government and Dumbledore, the Liberal Fools, as it were, for the fact that wizarding culture was being allowed to die. As to the muggleborn situation with regard to squibs… Well, that he did plan to study when he was older and had a better foundation in the wizarding world and magical theory. Surely, if it was possible to create the muggleborns through a magical ritual, it must be possible to reverse it. Salazar had said that only a single wizard was involved in the ritual, though there were a lot of human sacrifices. Still, Harry wouldn't necessarily be against using human sacrifice. It's not like it was that difficult to find muggles who would be better off dead. He'd grown up with three shining examples. If the sacrifices were required to be babies, that might give him pause, but he'd worry about that if it came to it.
Hermione could be annoying, but she was tolerable. The more time she spent around him, the more tolerable she became, and he didn't think he was just getting used to her. She seemed to be using that perfectly capable brain of hers to figure out what irritated him and then avoid doing it. Dean Thomas was absolutely intolerable, but Harry figured that had more to do with his personality than his being a muggleborn. Seamus was a halfblood and he was just as annoying. Terry Boot, from Ravenclaw, was a muggleborn and he seemed no more annoying than his halfblood and pureblood classmates. Justin Finch-Fletchy and Wayne Hopkins from Hufflepuff were also just as tolerable as their other yearmates.
He did feel a slight twinge of pity for the poor squib that he knew existed for each and every one of the muggleborns, but hating the muggleborns for it didn't seem likely to help anyone.
So, he continued to put up with Hermione and treat her as he had been since cashing in his Life Debt. When they were alone in the library he mostly ignored her, but it was sometimes kind of nice to have someone to talk to if an idea came to him. She was good at arguing and seemed to be eager to take up an opposing view to anything he said more for the sake of the argument than because she actually disagreed, he thought. It was… well, 'fun' certainly wasn't the right word. If he went ahead and called their arguments fun, next thing he'd be calling her a 'friend'. He mentally shuddered at the thought.
In his mind, a friend was someone he trusted completely and with whom he could share anything. Rhast was his friend. Athena might be his friend. Salazar had potential. Admittedly, he trusted all of them because the odds of being betrayed by any of them were exceedingly slim. Rhast was his familiar and basically couldn't betray him. Athena was a post owl who took her responsibilities very seriously, and the worst she could do anyway is deliver his mail to the wrong person, which she was quite literally bred not to do. Salazar was obscenely loyal to his heirs from what Harry could tell. The only one Salazar could betray him to was Voldemort, and with any luck at all, they wouldn't be enemies, so that wouldn't be too bad. He knew without a doubt that the man would never turn him in to Dumbledore or the Ministry, at least.
Harry had absolutely no plans to make any friends among the humans in Hogwarts. Acquaintances, sure. Allies, certainly. Enemies, inevitably. Friends, though? Definitely not. He couldn't even begin to imagine having that much trust in anyone.
The image of an adult Draco from the mirror flashed through his mind but he immediately pushed it away. He was getting good at that.
"It's nearly curfew," Hermione said quietly, jarring him from his thoughts.
He glanced at his watch and was surprised to find that it was already a quarter to nine. They'd just have time to replace the books they weren't taking out and hurry back to the tower. He'd already been caught out after curfew once by Filch and twice by Snape and he had no desire to serve any more detentions. And losing House Points was bad for his image, particularly within his House, so he wanted to avoid that, even if he saw less than no value in winning the House Cup. Bragging rights? That's what they were competing for? Well, perhaps he'd have felt differently if he felt like he actually belonged in his House, but he had his doubts.
With a nod to Hermione, he started closing his books, making a note of those he wished to look at again. He still refused to check out any book that he wasn't comfortable with Dumbledore knowing that he was reading. Hermione had seen him smuggle books out before and she'd looked so righteously appalled at the very idea that he'd nearly laughed at her. Instead, he'd just smirked and told her that it was a secret. She'd been forced to fume in silence. He hadn't bothered to explain to her why he was doing it, just smirking and ignoring the question when she asked. She hadn't brought it up a second time despite the fact that he could see her fighting down the urge every single time he did it.
He wasn't taking out any books tonight. He had some homework to work on tonight and early tomorrow morning he was planning on broaching the subject of occlumency with Salazar. If anyone could teach him, it would be Slytherin, and it would save him the trouble of looking for books in the restricted section. He was still trying to figure out how to get in there and read books without being detected, of course, because that would just be good to know. Besides, the skills he was picking up to do it would be applicable in other instances, as well, he was sure.
Hermione left the library a few steps ahead of him and he immediately heard her say, "Oh, hi, Neville! Harry and I were just finishing up in the library. What are you doing down here this late?"
Harry joined her in the corridor to find her talking to a damp and exhausted-looking Neville Longbottom. "Detention?" he deduced before Neville could respond to Hermione.
The boy nodded with a big sigh, "Filch. He had me scrubbing the trophy room. I don't think my hands have ever hurt this much."
Harry bit back a smirk. Manual labor must be a horrific punishment for a rich kid like him. Not that Harry wasn't rich, but he hadn't been raised that way. Harry actually did know what it was like to work until his fingers bled and then work some more, and Neville did not look anywhere close to that. Still, smiling at the misfortune of others was bad form – even when said misfortune was funny.
"I can't believe that Professor Snape gave you a detention just because you failed to brew that silly potion," Hermione sympathized. She had found that particular potion "silly" because its function was exactly the same as muggle dish detergent.
Harry lifted an eyebrow at her and said as politely as possible, "He didn't get a detention for failing the potion, Hermione, he got the detention for blowing up his cauldron and endangering everyone in the room." He gave Neville an apologetic look – he'd been practicing that one in the mirror and he personally thought he was getting good at it. "You really should try to study more for Potions."
Neville sighed despondently, "I do try. I just get so nervous as soon as I walk into that room. Professor Snape completely terrifies me."
"Professor Snape isn't that bad," Harry countered. With a glance at his pocket watch he started leading them toward Gryffindor Tower. "I think half of his intimidation is crafted just to ensure that his students take his class seriously so that they don't kill themselves or each other by acting like idiots." He paused, then smirked and added, "Don't tell him I said that, of course. I doubt he'd appreciate the assessment."
Neville shuddered, probably at the idea of going to Professor Snape and repeating Harry's assessment.
Hermione nodded approvingly and Harry quickly changed the subject before she could launch into a lecture about the sanctity of the Professors' authority over the students, etcetera. She hadn't tried lecturing him on that particular topic before but he'd seen her do it to other people in the common room or during meals – usually when they were disparaging Snape.
"So, what are you doing for Christmas, Neville?" Salazar had snapped at him for talking about a Christian holiday, but the Boy-Who-Lived would definitely use the Christian holidays, so he just tried to remember not to mention them around the testy portrait.
"Going home," Neville shrugged. "Gran always orders a feast from the house-elves and a few relatives stop by – mostly Gran's brother and his kids and grandkids."
"What about you?" Harry asked Hermione as they started up the many sets of moving staircases toward the seventh floor.
"I'm going home, too," Hermione grinned excitedly at the prospect. "We're actually flying to Italy on Christmas Eve to spend it with my Nana, mum's mum. Then we're coming back on Boxing Day to spend a few days with Dad's family in London, then home for a quiet week just the three of us until it's time to come back. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to get all of my holiday assignments completed. What about you, Harry? What are you doing?"
"I'm going to spend it with my family," Harry smiled as though this idea was anything other than the combination of repulsive and terrifying that it truly was. It wasn't that difficult an act considering that he had no intentions whatsoever to get anywhere near Privet Drive or his disgusting relatives. He had been intending to spend the holiday at Hogwarts enjoying the peace and quiet in the library, but Madam Pomfrey and Snape had put paid to that idea when they started questioning his home life. If he stayed at Hogwarts through the holidays it would only throw fuel on the fire of their suspicion. He'd be okay though. His Portable Abode was climate controlled. He'd have to buy some winter boots and a good coat for his trips to the laundry and the grocery and Diagon Alley, but it wasn't as though he didn't have enough money. And he could see about a trip into Knockturn Alley while he was in London. It would also be nice to be out from under the watchful eyes of Snape and the million portraits for a few weeks.
"I've never been away from them so long before," he said as though that might be a bad thing. "They always have a huge tree and piles of presents every year, so I'm pretty excited," about not being there. He was quite looking forward to cooking for no one but himself and being able to eat as much as he wished.
"That sounds nice," Hermione smiled warmly.
Harry gave her a small smile in return.
She opened her mouth to say something more, but all that came out was a squeak when the staircase they were on moved suddenly right before they could step off on the desired landing to keep going up. It swung around ninety degrees and stopped.
"This is the forbidden third floor corridor," Hermione noted nervously, looking at the landing in front of them as though it may animate and attack them.
To be fair, it wasn't impossible.
"Funny," Harry frowned grumpily. "One would think that the staircase wouldn't stop here unless there was a teacher present. There isn't even a ward. It's like Professor Dumbledore wants us to wander in here."
"Don't be absurd, Harry," Hermione immediately chastised. "I'm sure it's just a mistake."
"So, you're saying he's incompetent?" Harry asked innocently.
She blushed bright red and flapped her jaw like a fish a few times before managing to sputter out, "Of course, I'm not saying that! What a horrible suggestion!"
Harry rolled his eyes as he stepped forward cautiously. When the floor did not, in fact, animate and attack him, he walked forward a bit more, drawing his wand, just in case.
There was the grating stone sound of the staircase moving and he spun around to see that the stairs were, in fact, moving away. Hermione and Neville had followed him into the corridor and now they were trapped.
He sighed in exasperation and annoyance. He really should have seen this coming. It just went to show that he was not overly paranoid. If anything, he clearly needed to be more paranoid. How had he let this happen? More importantly, he corrected himself as he turned back the other direction, what, exactly, made this corridor potentially lethal?
"Oh, no," Neville whimpered.
Harry allowed himself to roll his eyes again since he was facing away from them and they wouldn't know.
"What do we do now?" Hermione's trembling voice asked a few seconds later.
Harry glanced back to find them both looking at him for an answer. He contained a smile. Just because he didn't want to be a Dark Lord didn't mean that he didn't enjoy having people defer to him. He glanced back down the corridor, wherein supposedly dwelt something that could inflict upon them a very painful death. "Let's wait here a few minutes," he decided. "The staircase might come back."
They both nodded rather eagerly so he assumed they were smart enough to want to avoid the possible death as well. He was glad there were no "true" Gryffindors here. Ron would probably want to go explore, like risking your life was some grand "adventure". If you really thought about it, it was kind of amazing that so many Gryffindors survived to graduation with an attitude like that.
Fifteen minutes later, it was well past curfew and the staircase still showed no sign of moving. Annoyingly, Harry didn't know any spells that might help with the fact that there was no staircase. Wingardium Leviosa doesn't work on anything living. McGonagall had used a spell to levitate him to the Hospital Wing on Halloween, but she hadn't cast it verbally, so he had no chance to try to repeat it. Even a spell to create a length of rope would be good about now, but he didn't know any of them, either. Frustratingly, it seemed that no matter how many spells he learned, he never had the one he really wanted for a situation. He was going to have to spend more time studying spellcasting instead of just theory and passive magic.
But, that was for after he'd survived this.
He looked back down the dark corridor. Was it worth the risk? What were the odds that someone had set this up to try to kill him? But surely there must be another way out of here somewhere down there. This entire school was riddled with secret passages – the normal kind, not even counting the parseltongue passageways. There was a good chance that he could find such a route down there if he looked.
With a small nod to himself, he pushed himself to his feet from where he'd been leaning against the wall next to Neville and across from Granger.
They both started at his movement, then hurried to get up as well. He smothered another smile. Herd behavior actually wasn't that bad when he was being treated as the shepherd. He glanced between the path ahead and Neville next to him. He'd been meaning to swear Neville to secrecy the same as Hermione. Though there were a lot of things that he could do with the Life Debt between them, secrecy was definitely the most immediately important. Though a Life Debt was for life, he thought it was best to use them now. Ten years from now, he hopefully wouldn't have a lot of need for help because he'd be powerful enough on his own. It was now that he was most vulnerable, so now is when he should use everything at his disposal. Having two people bound to keep his secrets meant that he could use them when he needed them without worrying about exposing himself.
Considering that they were about to venture into dangerous territory and that it might be handy if Neville was bound to keep secret what happened, Harry decided that now would be a dandy time to use the Life Debt. It wasn't like Hermione could tell anyone about it, anyway.
"Hey, Neville," he drew the boy's wide-eyed attention. "It's a bit of a strange time, but…" He drew himself up straighter and spoke formally the exact same words he'd used for Granger, inserting his name instead of hers.
Neville blinked when he started, then quickly straightened up as well, his round face becoming solemn enough that Harry knew for a fact that Neville had been drilled in such situations growing up. "So mote it be," Neville echoed him, bowing slightly from the waist. "I'm honored to repay my debt, Heir Potter."
Harry smirked at him a bit and clapped him on the shoulder briefly before returning his attention to the situation at hand. "Okay. I don't know about the two of you, but I'm not eager to spend the night on this landing waiting to see if the stairs come back."
Both Neville and Hermione nodded their agreement, though Neville's was done very hesitantly.
"So, I say we head down here a bit and see if we can find another way around. We're going to go slow and be careful. You two stay behind me. Light your wands with a Lumos and hold them up."
A pair of reluctant nods had them following his instructions without question, which was gratifying.
A few seconds after they started cautiously down the corridor, Neville uncertainly inquired, "Why don't you light your wand, Harry?"
"Because…" Harry replied distractedly as he moved to the side of the corridor to inspect a large tapestry for possible hidden passageways. "If there is something dangerous down here, I have the best chance of defending us." That was just a fact as he had already proven to think better under extreme stress than either of these two.
"Oh," Neville said very quietly, the light from his wand letting Harry know that his hand was trembling.
Finding nothing of interest with the tapestry, Harry moved forward, keeping his own wand in his hand and mentally running through the small list of spells he knew that could in any possible way prove helpful. "This school kind of sucks," he muttered as he paused to investigate an alcove.
"Harry!" Hermione snapped in a scandalized hiss. "How can you possibly say that?!"
Harry paused long enough to give her an incredulous look. "Because, Hermione, we've been here four months and this is the second time our lives have been in danger. At this point, I'm not exactly looking forward to the next six and a half years – assuming we manage to survive that long."
A pinched expression took over the girl's face. "Well, I'm sure what happened with the troll was extremely unusual, Harry," she argued, "and there's no guarantee that we're in any danger at all right now. I mean, Professor Dumbledore may have been just trying to deter people from coming down here. Really, it is pretty unlikely that he would knowingly leave something down here that could potentially harm the students and then fail to make absolutely certain that no one could become trapped down here accidentally…"
"Hermione," Harry said quietly as she stepped back out of the alcove. "Until I am certain that I'm wrong, I'm going to go ahead and assume the worst. With that in mind, would you please be quiet before you draw anything dangerous right to us?"
The girl paled a bit again and pinched her lips together tightly.
Harry nodded his satisfaction and continued looking for a way out of this mess. Perhaps, Harry reasoned after a few more minutes of searching to no avail, perhaps the dangerous whatever that was down here was placed down this particular corridor because of the lack of alternate means of access, and, unfortunately, escape. That also made him wonder if it was truly a coincidence that he would find himself here. Why him? Why again? Why had the stairs dumped them off here and failed to return?
He'd already concluded that someone had most likely deliberately let the troll into the school, though he had no more idea whether it had been targeting him or if he'd merely been unlucky enough to encounter it. Now, though… What were the odds of this happening by mere chance as well? Perhaps there was someone in the school trying to kill him. It wouldn't be all that surprising, honestly. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, with all the enemies inherent to that title. He didn't think it was Snape despite his suspicions about that man's loyalties. He'd seemed to hate Harry so much, so instantly that it stood to reason that the man hated him for allegedly killing Voldemort. Paradoxically, however, the man genuinely seemed to care about the well-being of his students. He'd even been involved in Madam Pomfrey's attempted intervention into his "home" life.
No, Harry would be extremely surprised if Snape meant him any true harm despite the vitriol he was constantly spewing at him. Which meant Quirrell was the next best suspect. Harry was decently certain that the troll was Quirrell's doing given what Rhast had told him. The man was constantly trying to get into Harry's head, which did not speak well of his intentions. He supposed the man had been or perhaps still was a supporter of Voldemort. Salazar seemed very convinced that "Tom" as he called him, was still around and would return eventually, and Harry had no reason to doubt him.
So, there was a rather good chance that his being in this corridor was someone's attempt to kill him. Given that, he wondered if it was terribly foolish of him to be exploring it at all. Perhaps he should turn back and just spend the night on the floor until either the stairs moved or someone found them. If someone tried to give him detention for being down a forbidden corridor or being out after curfew, he'd have a few choice words to express about the hazards of staircases trapping students where they shouldn't be and the lack of even the simplest of warding. Even the Restricted Section in the library was more secure than this supposedly deadly corridor!
Before he could give that more consideration, his attention was drawn by a strange sensation. There was some sort of magic resonating from the door at the end of the corridor up ahead. It felt like a combination of Charms and Warding and something else… mind magic by the way it tingled across his scalp. One thing he had learned definitively by this point was that the more layers of magic combined into anything, the more intricate it was. His fledgling knowledge of magical theory assured him that combining different kinds of magic and layering it into anything – enchantment, ward, potion, spell, etc. – it was extremely complex. Each addition increased the complexity exponentially.
What all of that meant was that someone powerful and skilled had gone to a lot of work to build that ward by that door.
But it wasn't keeping students away from it. Quite the contrary, he was feeling a pull from it. It was trying to draw him toward it.
Just as he was processing that fact, he heard a whispered alohamora and his mind snapped back to the rest of his senses in time to see Hermione swing open the door.
He'd stopped when he'd become aware of the strange magic ahead, but he realized now that his companions had done the opposite. They'd succumbed to the ward and gone toward it. They were now several meters in front of him, standing right in front of the door. And now that the door was open he could feel a magical signature inside. It was powerful in a way that was very different from human magic and there was a wildness to it, a feral flavor that made him extremely wary.
He didn't hesitate, didn't even stop to think. He felt the attention of the beast inside turn toward the opened door. It was piqued and aggressive and Harry knew with an instinctive certainty what was about to happen. As when he'd saved Neville when he'd fallen off his broom, there was no time to think. He rushed forward, planted a hand on each of their shoulders and yanked them back.
They landed on top of him, knocking the air out of him quite painfully, and he heard a snarling growl and felt a gust of air rush into them. He lifted his head to see a massive paw sticking out through the door, trying and just barely failing to claw their feet. The frustrated paw was soon replaced by a gaping, slathering maw snarling at them as it failed to fit through the door.
Disturbingly, that head them moved aside and another took its place, only for another to shortly fight for dominance.
"Cerberus," he heard Hermione mutter through her shock.
Finally, managing to draw a breath, Harry pushed on the two bodies on top of him. Neville was a chubby boy at least twice Harry's weight and even Hermione probably weighed more as she was several inches taller than his tiny, frail frame despite the weight he'd put on since leaving the Dursleys. "C'mon, move. I can't breathe," he complained when his shoving failed to gain a reaction.
He felt Hermione flinch and finally roll off him. Thankfully, she rolled to the side and quickly moved further out of the reach of the beast desperately trying to eat them. Happily, it did not seem able to get its body through the door. Her move seemed to jar Neville into action and he followed her lead, quickly scrambling away from the danger.
"Blimey, Harry, you saved my life again," he gasped as Harry finally got to his feet.
Harry just nodded because there was no doubt in his mind that the Cerberus would have killed whichever one of them it managed to get hold of first. He wasn't going to complain about the Life Debts, they were quite handy after all. Still, he was a bit disturbed to realize that he'd endangered himself once more in a Gryffindor display of impulsiveness.
Then again, there really hadn't been time to think sometimes. If he'd paused to wonder what he should do, it would have been too late to do anything but watch them die. He supposed, sometimes, there really was nothing to do but trust his instincts.
"There's no way out down here," Harry said after a moment to compose himself. He glanced back at the snarling beast still trying to get to them, filling the corridor with some rather rancid dog breath, then looked at his companions again. "Let's go back to the stairwell and wait."
The other two nodded without any hesitation.
Five minutes later – it didn't take nearly as long when they weren't constantly stopping to search for secret passages – they were standing at the end of the corridor looking at the stairs, which were once again available.
Harry narrowed his eyes at them and let his magic out a bit so that he could feel at more of a distance. They seemed to be alone, he noted as he moved onto the staircase with Neville and Hermione joining him immediately. As soon as they were on, the stairs rotated back to connect the way they'd been trying to go up to Gryffindor Tower in the first place.
"That's lucky," Neville muttered.
Harry shook his head, "I very much doubt it."
They walked in silence up a couple of floors before Neville shakily posed, "What do you suppose that thing's doing in the school?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione demanded immediately. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
Harry gave her a look that expressed just how much he didn't appreciate her tone.
She blushed instantly, "Oh, I suppose you were a bit busy saving our lives."
Harry released her from his glare for that correction, but said nothing.
"There was a trap door," she muttered quietly a moment later. "It must be guarding something."
Harry shook his head, "Even if that is the case, why a Cerberus? Why endanger the students like that?"
"We weren't supposed to be down there at all," Hermione tartly reminded him.
"We didn't try to be down there!" he snapped right back, causing her to fall silent once more, her eyes slipping to the floor. "Not every adult has the best interests of children at heart, Hermione," he said more gently but still firmly. "In the muggle world there are millions of people who abuse or kill or molest children. There is no reason to think the wizarding world is any different. So, kindly stop placing blind trust in every authority figure. Someone with a professor's level access to the Hogwarts wards let a troll into the school, and someone placed a ward around that door with the Cerberus that was pulling people toward it rather than warning them away. Someone in this school has, at the very least, no concern at all whether the students live or die if he or she isn't actually trying to kill us. I'm sick of listening to you deify people who have done nothing to earn your respect."
They had reached Gryffindor Tower by the time he finished his rant and he quickly spat out the password before leading them inside. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm rather exhausted." He made a bee-line for his dormitory, certain that he could tolerate Granger no more this evening.
NLPOV
Neville watched Harry walk briskly toward their dorm, then glanced back at Hermione. Neville knew that Harry could be rather distant. He was usually friendly enough with everyone, though more with the kids that didn't skive off homework and mess about all the time. He was always quick to drop everything if someone needed help with something, especially their lessons. He was kind of a loner, though. He tended to spend a lot of time alone in the library or alone in the dorm working on homework or reading supplemental books for his classes.
In all the months that they'd been sharing a dorm and all of their classes, though, Neville had never seen the other boy so cold. By the look on Hermione's face, though, she wasn't so much surprised by Harry's behavior toward her, but rather somewhat disappointed. She did spend more time with Harry than anyone else as far as Neville knew. He supposed that she'd seen him like that before.
"Goodnight, Hermione," Neville said quietly, receiving a distracted reply before he made his way up the way Harry had gone.
He could hear the shower running faintly in the bathroom as he entered their dorm. That was one quirk of Harry's that he had noticed. That boy took more showers than the rest of them combined. Occasionally, as many as three in a day. He didn't seem to be obsessively neat or afraid of germs or anything like that. He just liked to shower.
Neville took his time changing into his pajamas and was just lying down when Harry stepped out of the bathroom already changed for bed. The rest of their dorm mates were already asleep, Ron's snoring doing plenty to cover up any noise they might have made.
Neville's mind drifted back to what had happened that evening. "Hey, Harry," he whispered cautiously a few seconds after the other boy had settled himself in his bed.
"Yes?" he responded after only a second's hesitation.
"Do… Do you ever feel afraid?" he asked uncertainly.
He was surprised by the quiet laugh from the other boy. "Of course, I do, Neville. There would have to be something wrong with me if I didn't."
"You don't seem like it," Neville reasoned. "You don't seem like you're afraid of anything. You stand up to the Slytherins and you never shy away from Professor Snape. You saved me during flying and the whole school knows what you did for Hermione with that troll." Hermione had very enthusiastically told everyone about how Harry had rescued her at great personal risk. "How do you do that if you're afraid?"
"It doesn't mean that I'm not afraid. I just don't let my fear control me."
Neville turned over to look at the other boy in the dim room. How did one learn to control fear? That was a trick that he would give a lot to learn. He felt like his fear was always controlling him. "How did you learn that?" he asked.
Despite the shadows, Neville could easily see the way Harry's face hardened in response the question, his eyes turning icy in a way that frankly scared the crap out of him.
"Spend enough of your life afraid, Neville, and you either learn to control it or it will destroy you," he whispered darkly.
Neville swallowed uneasily. He was starting to realize that Harry really wasn't that much like everyone thought he was. Or maybe it would be more fair to say that there was a lot more to him than he showed anyone else. Thinking about what he had said, Neville wondered if he was ever going to learn to control his fear. Because he felt like his whole life was about everything that he feared. Disappointing his Gran, not living up to his parents' legacy, failing in school, Professor Snape actually turning him into potions ingredients, doing something else stupid in front of the whole school, being alone at the mercy of the Slytherins… and on and on and on. It was exhausting. Now, he had a new fear. That all of his fear was going to destroy him completely like Harry said.
"I wasn't supposed to be a Gryffindor," he admitted quietly, his self-loathing just about choking him. He knew that he didn't belong in this House despite convincing the Hat to put him here. "My Gran wanted me to be in Gryffindor like my dad, so I begged the Hat to put me here, but I know I don't belong. I should have let it put me in Hufflepuff." They were supposed to be really loyal. Maybe he'd have made a friend there if he was one of them.
"You're not the only one to go against the Hat's advice, Neville," Harry said after a moment. "I have absolutely no doubt that Hermione was meant to be a Ravenclaw." He hesitated a moment, then added, "It wanted me in Slytherin."
"What?" Neville gaped at the other boy.
Harry made a small movement that Neville thought was a shrug. "I already knew what kind of reputation Slytherin has. I knew what everyone would think if I was sorted there, so I asked it to put me somewhere else."
Harry sounded so matter-of-fact, but Neville could hardly believe it. How was it possible that Harry Potter was supposed to be a Slytherin?
"That's a secret, of course," Harry murmured with a wry smile.
"Of course," Neville agreed immediately. He couldn't imagine what would happen if the whole school learned of that.
"Goodnight, Neville," Harry said after a moment, completely casual as though he hadn't just told Neville something completely unbelievable.
"G'night, Harry," Neville whispered a moment late.
He lay in bed awake for a long time after he heard Harry's breathing deepen to join the others in sleep. He was still trying to wrap his mind around it. Harry was meant to be a Slytherin. The bravest boy Neville had ever met, heck, the bravest person he'd ever met, and he wasn't even supposed to be a Gryffindor. That could only mean that Harry's Slytherin traits were an even stronger part of his personality than his bravery.
But Slytherin wasn't all about mean and evil people. He did know that. Slytherin was for people that were ambitious and cunning and resourceful. Someone cunning enough to know that he should avoid being sorted into Slytherin. Someone resourceful enough to blend in amongst the Gryffindors. Sure, he stood out, but he seemed way more like a Gryffindor than Neville or Hermione did. Neville didn't know what Harry's ambition might be, but if he was supposed to be a Slytherin than surely he had one. That really only left Neville with one question.
Why had Harry told him, of all people? Well, there was the Life Debt preventing him from telling anyone else since it was clearly a secret, but… He still hadn't had to tell him.
Neville turned his head toward the other boy's sleeping form and dared to wonder if it was possible that he might have Harry as a friend. Maybe not yet, but… someday.
Author's Note: Wow, that ended up longer than I expected by almost three thousand words. Oh well, I'm sure you all don't mind too terribly much, right? It helps to make up for the short chapter last time. Once again, I pushed this later than I should have – procrastination is my vice, and yes, vice is the right word for it in my case. So, I wrote the entire second half of this chapter today, meaning that it isn't edited as well as I would like. I apologize for any issues inherent to that fact.
I hope you all enjoyed, and I do plan to post the next chapter on November 12th, barring any catastrophes in my real life. I can't give you any teasers because I haven't plotted it yet.
As always, thank you so much to all of my reviewers. You've made me smile and laugh and blush and generally feel like I wanted to keep writing. You have my gratitude.
