Not sure how I feel about this chapter. The actual content is more than fine, but the way it's written isn't exactly in the way I like. It was written many months in advance, and I feel like the style is a bit off. I've edited it, obviously, but the structuring of the chapter makes it impossible to make some of the edits I would have preferred to make.
I've started a Discord. I intend for it to be a small, relaxed server - nothing to fancy or grand. If you have any questions about my writing, want to discuss my work, or simply want to hang out, you're more than welcome to join. The link is in my profile.
Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Riddle's Plight
XI. The Crux of the Cave
As the month of February crept onwards, a sense of normalcy finally returned to the castle. There had not been an attack in months now, and despite whatever Ernie Macmillan had said, Harry was not simply biding his time.
Lockhart, of course, claimed it was all thanks to him.
"A good thing I was here." he had told them during their last Defense Against the Dark Arts class, "The miserable creature was frightened, no doubt about it! Imagine if another poor soul had been your Defense teacher this year - we'd have a death on our hands! No, you're lucky the monster knew I was here!"
"Reckon it's read his books?" Harry had heard Seamus Finnegan mutter from the front, "Or heard about the pixies? I'd be terrified of the nutter, too . . ."
He'd been placed in detention for a week for that, but Harry's respect for the resident firestarter had gone up just a bit.
But even that had not dissuaded Lockhart, who seemed positively certain he had scared the monster off. Very few students seemed to believe him - just a few of the younger students, and all from either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.
And mostly girls too, come to think of it.
The rest of the students weren't so sure.
And why would they be? Unless it's a Flobberworm, Lockhart can't have done a thing to it.
A thought swam through his mind, and Harry grimaced.
Especially not if its an Acromantula.
And yet Lockhart was still certain he had finished the job. He couldn't answer what was the monster was exactly, nor where the Chamber was - but he was more than happy to go on for ages about just how he had killed the miserable creature.
"He isn't telling us what it is because he doesn't want us to be afraid." a sniffling Hannah Abbott had said as they left the Defense classroom that very day, "He's protecting us."
We'd probably be in more danger if Lockhart was protecting us than if he was actually attacking us.
He'd said as much, too. Daphne seemed to agree - but Hannah Abbot had glared at him before stalking off with her redheaded friend, Susan Bones. Harry still remembered the look of mistrust on the girls' faces.
It isn't there fault, though. They're just in the same house as bloody Macmillan.
Either way, Harry didn't care much. There were far more pressing things on his mind.
Like the monster.
It was an Acromantula; Harry was almost certain of that now. It would explain the voice Harry had heard, and why he had seen the stream of spiders scurrying out the window when he had discovered the Hufflepuff girl and Nearly Headless Nick.
But, despite how much sense it made, the answer birthed just as many questions as it answered. How was it getting around? Why were the spiders fleeing from it - unless Acromantulas ate other spiders as well? Harry certainly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.
But more than that - more than any of that - why could no one but Harry hear it?
Thin, wispy outlines sank through Harry's mind. A girl with bushy brown hair, and a pudgy boy with hair black as night. Two redheads, two - one a boy, the other a younger girl. A small, glowing man in a jester's outfit, hovering a few feet above aged marble floors.
Hermione and Neville. Ron and Hermione. Peeves, too.
The first three weren't particularly accessible, though, and the fourth almost definitely wasn't. As for Peeves -
After what happened, I doubt he'll ever willingly speak to me again.
His fingers slid across the edge of his robes, and he nodded thoughtfully.
That's probably a good thing if we're being honest.
The few resources that remained were not proving particularly useful. He'd spent hours in the library researching, but the information on Acromantulas was sparse at best. Very few had ventured close enough to document much. Harry imagined most weren't all too interested in how the oversized spiders communicated with one another. The fangs, and the beady black eyes, and the long, spiny legs were more than enough.
But Harry had gotten used to it by now. Large though they were, Acromantulas were, at the end of the day, just overgrown spiders.
And Hagrid's brought worse.
A three-headed dog flitted through his mind. Beneath it, a dark, shiny egg began to crack. A small black dragon clawed its way to the surface, covered in a thick, slimy liquid.
Norbert.
Harry had wondered what had happened to the egg. He'd found out from Hagrid just last week.
Harry smiled.
It was nice, spending time with Hagrid again. He still wasn't convinced the man was entirely innocent, but he definitely wasn't entirely guilty, either.
He wouldn't set any creature on anyone, but I suppose an Acromantula might not listen to him.
Besides, after what happened with Fluffy and Norbert, Harry could easily imagine Hagrid raising an Acromantula like a pet. It wouldn't exactly surprise him if that were the case - and judging from Emily's memory, it was.
His fingers curved around his tie, and his smile grew further.
She'd been another big influence as of late. Countless nights had been wasted away by her side, talking, learning, and listening to the strange stories she told. She'd taught him a fair bit, too - most of it related to the Mind Arts in some fashion. Harry still had a hard time grasping some of the finer aspects of the art.
But at least I'm not accidentally getting in people's heads anymore.
Harry had learnt a lot more from her than just the Mind Arts, though. Strange spells - many of which Harry had seen scrawled within her notebook - were something she provided in endless supply. The temptation to sneak out and properly test them was almost overpowering. But in the end, Harry decided not to, instead accepting her company as a consolation prize.
It's more than a consolation prize.
An image of a girl, one blank and blurred, sprouted within Harry's mind. She sat within a rather familiar book - one with a dark, peeling cover and tainted yellow pages. The girl smiled at Harry, a challenging, pleased grin etched upon her face.
Not that I'd ever admit it to her.
The girl only smiled wider, winking at him. Harry groaned.
"What?"
Harry opened his eyes, looking around.
The corridor outside the Potions classroom was as dark and dreary as ever. Only the torches provided any light, and they were far and few between. The second year students all stood outside, waiting for Snape to let them in.
Harry turned his head. Daphne studied him carefully, her eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.
"Nothing." Harry muttered.
"What's taking so long?" asked Nott from his other side, "These idiots will blow up the castle if he doesn't hurry up."
Harry crooked his neck, shifting his gaze to see whatever had caught Nott's eye.
In the far corner stood Malfoy, his cronies flanking him on either side. He was leaning against the cold stone walls, sneering at the three Gryffindors opposite him. Harry was surprised to see Neville Longbottom glaring angrily at the platinum blonde. Hermione's hand was wrapped tightly around Neville's wrist, and Ron's arms were linked with the arm on Neville's other side. They were both dragging him backwards, doing their very best to turn the boy back around.
"He's not worth it, Nev." Ron was saying, glaring daggers at the Malfoy. The blonde Slytherin boy smiled smugly, his arms crossed, "Just ignore him."
Malfoy laughed. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly.
"You're lucky the Heir of Slytherin's slowing down, Longbottom." snarled Malfoy as Neville finally looked away, "Otherwise everyone in the family would've gone stiff -"
Chaos cracked through the corridor like a whip; Neville spun around, and Ron, rather than stopping him, turned as well. They both yelled at the top of their lungs, their wands outstretched - Lavender and Pavarti shrieked, Crabbe tackled Malfoy onto the ground -
An invisible shield flared a bright white for a fraction of a second. Neville and Ron's spells dissipated at once, and a deadly silence overcame them all.
"Detention." sneered Snape, his bat-like cloak billowing in the still corridor. He pointed at the newly opened door with his wand, "In. Now."
Nobody needed to be told twice.
-(xXx)-
He's joking. He has to be.
But Lockhart wasn't. He stood at the front of the Great Hall, adorned in robes of bright pink and looking as vexatious as ever. The hall around him had changed, too - the walls were adorned in large, lurid pink flowers, and heart shape confetti was falling from the cloudy white ceiling.
"Happy Valentine's day!" he shouted, smiling down at them all. He seemed oblivious to the other staff, all of whom looked as though they would rather be anywhere else, "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here . . ."
Harry felt his jaw drop as Lockhart continued to address the hall. Beside him, Daphne sat with her eyes closed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Golden plates and utensils clattered, and Harry turned to Nott. The boy was banging his head against the table, groaning. If Harry wasn't feeling so sick, he might've laughed.
He forced his gaze up, watching with trepidation as Lockhart's hands soared into the air.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart, motioning towards a bunch surly-looking dwarves. They were all bedecked with golden wings and bright pink baskets. Harry even spotted one of them holding a bow and arrow.
If that thing comes anywhere near Nott, he'll use the bow to shoot himself.
"They'll all be roving around the school today delivering Valentines!" exclaimed Lockhart. Harry twitched.
And if it comes near me, I'll do the same.
"- and the fun doesn't end here, either! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.
They weren't the only ones who looked upset, either. Many of the students were groaning, their breakfast forgotten - though a few girls suddenly seemed to giggle uncontrollably on the opposite side of the hall.
"At least someone's happy." mumbled Nott darkly, raising his head off the table.
"Relax." Daphne raised a spoon to her lips, "You've got nothing to worry about, no one'll be sending you any Valentines -"
"Oh, very funny."
"- but you, on the other hand," continued Daphne, now facing Harry, "You might be more of a problem."
"Me?" asked Harry in disbelief, "Why me?"
Both Daphne and Nott stared at him, eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised.
"You're you." said Nott, as though Harry had forgotten, "Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived. The most famous wizard in modern time -"
"Right, I got it." interrupted Harry, "I just thought -"
"That people forgot?" asked Daphne, "That just because people think you're the Heir of Slytherin, people are going to forget what you are?"
"What I am?" muttered Harry, "What do you mean, 'what you are?'"
Daphne stared at him irritably. Her gaze slid across his features, and her eyes slowly widened. Sighing, she turned to face him, pushing her plate aside.
"Harry, you're famous. As in, really famous." she whispered quietly, "You're up there with Dumbledore. You're a symbol. A symbol of power. Everyone knows your name, everyone was raised hearing about what you stopped - people would give their lives just to bow before you."
"They would give their lives for that?"
Daphne watched him carefully, as if trying to figure out if he was joking. Eventually, her lips curled into a thin, tight line, and she nodded.
"I remember, when I was younger, there were revolts." she continued, "People wanted to see you, people wanted to hear about you. Dumbledore told the world you were with family, but it wasn't enough. Cornelius Fudge - he's the Minister of Magic, by the way - had to literally pass new laws just so you'd have some semblance of privacy."
"I remember hearing about that." murmured Nott under his breath, "They made it illegal to even write about you until you're an adult -"
"- but last year there was an article in the Daily Prophet about me being sorted into Slytherin -"
"Rita Skeeter." said Daphne simply, "She has a habit of writing about what isn't meant for the public to hear. She got in really hot water for that, mind you - Madam Bones showed up at her house with an entire squad of Aurors -"
"What?" Harry balked, "Aurors? What are Aurors?"
"Dark Wizard hunters." explained Nott, "Elite force, notoriously difficult to get into."
"Sort of like those muggle secret agents, I think." added Daphne, "As for Madam Bones, she's the Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement."
"Susan Bones' aunt?"
"That's the one." agreed Daphne, nodding, "But we've digressed. Rita got away with it, but only because it was the most popular issue the Daily Prophet sold in about a decade. It's the only reason she wasn't fired, I think. But there hasn't been an article about you since."
"Then people still wouldn't know much about me, would they?" asked Harry.
But Daphne shook her head.
"Actually, they would." she said, frowning, "Everyone knew last year would be your first year at Hogwarts. If you were a parent in the Wizarding World and you had even an ounce of curiosity in you, what would you ask your child to do?"
Learn more about me.
"Exactly." Daphne nodded, watching as his lips curved downwards, "So when we all saw that the person that's supposedly Merlin reborn was actually good, what do you think we all did?"
"Wrote home."
She nodded again.
Harry grimaced, but his lips slowly rose as a mischievous grin spread from cheek to cheek.
"'Actually good.'" Harry repeated, smiling, "I thought you didn't like me much?"
Daphne rolled her eyes.
"I didn't know you." she corrected, "That doesn't make me blind."
"So you all wrote home, then?" asked Harry.
Daphne and Nott nodded.
"Almost everyone in the school."
"Then why hasn't anyone - well, I dunno - come up to me or anything?"
"Dumbledore asked them not to." said Nott tiredly. Harry and Daphne both turned to him, "The year before last. It was part of his End of Year speech, apparently. I heard one of the older students talking about it last year."
"Which is why Creevey came up to you." said Daphne thoughtfully, "He didn't know not to."
"So it'll keep getting worse as time passes." Harry summed up dryly.
"More or less."
Brilliant.
Harry turned back to his food, his appetite suddenly lost. He was far more wary of the eyes on him now.
I almost preferred it when they were glaring at me.
Many of them still were. It was somewhat strange that Harry took comfort in that.
A boy on the opposite side of the hall slowly stood up, trudging away from his filled plate and across the length of the hall. Harry watched as two others chased after him, both of their faces flooded with worry.
Granger. Weasley.
Harry watched Neville Longbottom. The pudgy, often timid boy allowed his friends to join him, and after an uncharacteristic glare at Malfoy, stalked out of the hall. Harry silently wondered what Malfoy had been alluding to back in the Potions corridor - whatever had happened to Neville's parents.
Same as me, probably.
But one of them had become famous for it, and one had not. One was a legend, the other was not. One was a symbol - the other was not.
Harry wasn't sure which was better. He decided that whatever had happened to them was no business of his.
If they were my parents, I wouldn't want anyone to know. It isn't their business. No one's but mine.
Light shined through the windows, and Harry nodded to himself. It was clear just which one was better. He trailed a finger against his scar, shivering as a soft burning sensation swam through his body.
But I've got a chance at revenge. Something to fight against. He doesn't.
Once again, Harry wasn't quite sure anymore.
-(xXx)-
"Now, Nagini."
Blood trickled upon the jagged rocks like crimson ink. The droplets slowly slid down its surface. A moment later they vanished entirely, leaving the stone unblemished.
A blazing silver outline flared to life on the wall opposite her. It glistened for a moment, the stone within it crumbling to dust. When the light dulled, an opening remained, leading further into the darkness.
The spirit flickered.
It was cold - wet, even. Damp, darkened rocks covered in moss stretched for as far as the eye could see - which wasn't very far. Only here, pressed against the wall of the cave, could something more be found.
A lone, shadowy spirit pulsed from just before the opening, its blood red eyes glowing with forgotten power. She took in the jagged rocks that surrounded her before turning, her gaze falling upon her serpentine companion.
"Come, Nagini. We shall heal your wound later."
"Yes, my lady."
The large serpent bowed her head. Voldemort's eyes lingered on the cut just beneath her eye, watching as rivulets of bright red blood leaked to the ground. She waited for a moment, then turned around and continued onward.
The earthen passage was wet and grimy. Mossy stones were covered in dirt, and muddy waters covered the jagged floors. Before her, Nagini slithered forward, her long, serpentine body contorting as they moved onwards.
Perhaps she shall suffice.
Had it been anyone else, she would not have even considered it. Even Bella, whom was the closest thing she had ever had to a friend -
"Master?"
Voldemort shifted, her eyes glowing malevolently. She turned to her companion, resuming her pace as she swam through the stale air.
"It is nothing. Continue."
Bits of stone slid to the ground as Nagini slithered past. The dark spirit watched as the great serpent raised its head, her forked tongue flicking up and down.
A better choice than Bellatrix. Not nearly as reckless. Her mind is much more intact, too.
Her form twitched. Had she a mouth, her lips would no doubt have fallen into a frown.
Pointless thinking. I won't be able to make another any time soon.
"No matter." she whispered, her voice high and wispy, "The others had all been accounted for . . ."
I am the first. Three are at Hogwarts, one is in Gringotts, and one is in what remains of my dear mother's home.
Voldemort flickered, her deep red eyes flashing irritably.
Six. Not seven.
"And not one of them is hidden away here." she snapped, "Not anymore, not in a very long time . . ."
Beneath her, stones crumbled to dust. Her scarlet eyes glowed like blood in the light.
But the old fool doesn't know that.
An invisible grin spread across lips that weren't there.
What a shame.
They arrived at the edge of a great black lake. The cavern that encompassed them was one so high that the ceiling could not be seen. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake; it was reflected in the unmoving body of water below. The greenish glow and the scarlet light from the spirit's eyes were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness.
"Wait for me here."
Voldemort glided across the surface of the lake. She could just barely make out the outlines of those who lay within - muggles, witches and wizards alike. All united in death.
All dead in vain. Protecting nothing more than a worthless trinket.
"You can thank Bella for that." the spirit whispered, her scarlet eyes flashing above the lake's surface, "Her cousin, too."
Regulus Arcturus Black.
Voldemort glanced at the basin. A glowing emerald liquid sat within it. Her reflection stared back at her from within its contents, but it was wrong, broken and twisted -
The Drink of Despair. Just as potent as ever, after all this time.
There was something else, too. A long, silver locket hovered inside the basin, mixed within the sickly green potion. A letter 'S' was inscribed upon it, made of cheap jade stones and nephrites.
Not a bad forgery. It would fool most people who hadn't seen the real one before.
"Like Albus, for example." she hissed, "I suppose I have to thank you for that, Regulus Arcturus Black -"
The old fool will remember, eventually. And when he does, he'll come looking here.
"- you've no idea how much you've helped me . . ."
Her form flickered again. Voldemort's gaze shifted from the basin to the water's surface. Her reflection stared up at her.
But the real one's in danger now. I hadn't thought that possible.
"No matter." the spirit turned, floating past the broken stones that littered the earthen floor, "It shall be hidden somewhere else, once I am strong enough."
She drifted back to the island. The great serpent raised its head again, and Nagini paused, her tongue flicking through the air. Voldemort floated past her, bits of stone crumbling to dust as she passed.
"Come, Nagini . . ."
-(xXx)-
Trophies of all sorts and sizes littered the room. They were interesting enough - some of them were even a fair bit impressive. But at the moment, neither Neville nor Ron could find it in themselves to appreciate them.
"Look at this one." called Ron, glaring angrily at an oversized trophy to his left, "'Best Bludgeoning Hex, 1968'. Who needs a trophy for that?"
"I don't know." Neville mumbled, scrubbing a smaller award on the other side of the room.
It was the afternoon of the twenty-fourth; the month of February was slowly reaching its end. Though the winter snow was finally beginning to fade away, the cloudy white skies persisted, casting a dull, dreary glow into the room.
It was meant to be a good day, as most Sundays often were. They had somehow finished all their homework the day prior (at Hermione's insistence), and had more than enough time to play a relaxing game of Wizard's Chess by the fire.
But Snape, it seemed, had finally remembered about the detention he had given them.
One Malfoy deserved.
Neville grit his teeth, wincing slightly as he pushed his fingers a bit too hard against the metallic trophy. He shook his hand, placing the trophy down and picking up another.
I'll get him. He won't say a thing about them ever again.
"Hurry up!" barked Filch, striding into the room. He seemed in an irritable mood - he often was these days. Neville didn't blame him much.
"We're on it, we're on it." groaned Ron, ducking slightly as he cleaned the bottom of a large award case, "Only about four hundred left to go -"
Filch stomped out of the room, not bothering to listen. Ron glanced up from behind the award case. He looked around conspiratorially, as though one of the trophies would tell him off. Once he was certain the coast was clear, he yanked his wand from the pocket of his robes, turning to Neville.
"Know any Cleaning Charms?" he asked almost desperately, "My hand's about to fall off."
Neville shook his head.
"Gran doesn't let me clean anything. She thinks I'll blow everything up."
Ron groaned, pocketing his wand. He looked significantly more depressed than before.
"I can hear mum already," he mumbled, turning back to scrub another award,"'That's what happens to boys that don't clean their rooms! Why, what Gilderoy Lockhart would say!'"
"Hermione, too." muttered Neville, "She'd tell you off for not paying attention in Flitwick's class."
"He can't have taught us Cleaning Charms." Ron protested, "Flitwick isn't that -"
He trailed off.
"That what?"
Neville turned around. Ron had paused, his cleaning rag lying on the ground forgotten. He was staring at a shiny silver award, one tucked away in the furthest corner of the room.
"Nev?"
"Y-yeah?"
"D'you remember that girl Hermione told us about last year?" Ron asked slowly, "That Riddle girl?"
Neville thought hard for a moment.
"I think so." he said eventually, "The one who got all perfect scores, right?"
Ron nodded, pointing at the trophy.
"Come take a look."
Neville glanced at the door. Filch was nowhere to be found, and Mrs. Norris -
Right.
He quickly set his rag down, joining Ron on the other side of the trophy room. Sitting atop an impressive wooden stand sat a silver trophy which read:
'Awarded to Emily M. Riddle
for
Special Services to the School
1943'
"Emily M. Riddle." Neville read aloud, his eyes widening.
"E. M. Riddle." said Ron, nodding, "It's her."
"But what'd she get this for?"
"Special Services to -"
"I know that." said Neville quickly, "I mean, what did she do?"
Ron shrugged.
"How would I know?" he said quietly, "She went to Hogwarts - what, fifty years -"
He froze, and their eyes met at once. Neville was positively certain that they had both reached the same glorious conclusion.
"Malfoy." whispered Ron, "He said it, didn't he?"
"It's been opened before." said Neville, nodding, "The Chamber of Secrets."
"Fifty years ago." finished Ron, "On the bloody dot."
"We've got to tell Hermione." Neville set his rag down, his hands on his head, "For all we know, it could be for her O.W.L. scores -"
"HURRY UP!" roared Filch from somewhere down the hall.
Neville had never seen Ron scrub something so furiously in his life.
-(xXx)-
Serpensortia.
Harry watched as a lime green serpent burst from the tip of his wand, falling to the earth with a soft thud.
It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon; they were about halfway through March now, and the final remnants of the ice and snow had vanished from the Hogwarts grounds. Still, the air was cold and the sky white like ice. It rained more often these days, and the grounds were almost wet. The grass that Harry, Daphne and Nott now sat upon had needed to be thoroughly dried because of it.
"What is this?" hissed the grass snake, looking around as its forked tongue flickered, "Where am I?"
"Hogwarts." Harry hissed back, "A school of magic."
The snake turned its head. The tip of its tail shook slightly, scattering the damp soil. Harry watched as the snake stretched its jaw, baring its fangs as it took him in. Its eyes, though dull, seemed to light up with surprise or excitement. Harry wasn't quite sure which, if either.
Legilimency doesn't work on snakes, then.
Once again, Emily was right.
Of course she is.
"You speak?" asked the snake. Harry could hear the surprise in its voice now.
"I do." agreed Harry, "Is that good?"
The snake eagerly bowed its head. Harry vaguely registered Daphne and Nott, both of whom had gone stiff.
"Very, Master." the snake crooned, "Very good. It is an honor to meet a speaker."
Harry nodded, slowly slashing his wand across his chest. The snake vanished at once.
How would it know about speakers if I've just conjured it?
"Since when have you known how to do nonverbal magic?" asked Nott faintly, staring at where the snake had been just moments prior.
Harry shrugged.
"Around Christmas Break, I think." he replied vaguely, "I'm not very good at it yet."
Nott shook his head in disbelief.
"How are you not surprised?" he asked, turning to Daphne, "You didn't know, did you?"
"No." said Daphne blankly, staring at something off in the distance, "But I don't think it's as hard as they say. Mother managed it near the end of her fourth year."
Nott shook his head again.
"Grandfather thought you might, you know." he said eventually, "Manage something like this, I mean."
Harry looked up.
"Your grandfather?" he asked curiously, "Why?"
"Not sure." Nott's fingers fell to the ground, drawing something in the dirt, "He was talking about it during Christmas. Asked about you."
"What did you tell him?"
"Not much." admitted Nott, "Just that you're unnaturally good at magic, and that you get in trouble for sneaking out past curfew all the time."
"First of all, I haven't snuck out in months." defended Harry, "And secondly, I'd rather that than getting in trouble with Madam Pince all the time. According to her, you're public enemy number one."
"She's absolutely barmy." hissed Nott. He finished adding the final touches to his drawing in the dirt, "But nevermind her. Grandfather said a bit about you, but I didn't get much of it. Dad interrupted him. Said it didn't matter what you were, because you're a half-blood."
Harry felt his breathing slow. Daphne, who was still staring at something far away, stiffened, her palms curling around the soft grass beneath them.
"Grandfather says he's an idiot." finished Nott, glancing from Harry to Daphne and back, "I'm starting to think he might be right about that."
"What else did he say?" asked Harry, "Your grandfather, I mean."
"Not much." muttered Nott, "Something about a book. Someone dying too, unless I'm mistaken."
Brilliant.
Harry turned back to the barren grass before him, waving his wand in an intricate manner. A different snake appeared within his mind this time - one of varying hues of brown, with a long, peculiar rattle attached to the end of its tail.
Serpensortia.
A rattlesnake burst from the tip of his wand. It glanced around quickly before turning to him, glancing at him as though it awaited instructions of some sort.
"Hello -"
"Vipera Evanesca."
The snake turned, its fangs bared as it poised to strike - but it quickly faded away, its jaws clenching with an audible snap. Both Harry and Nott turned to Daphne, frowning - but she was still watching something off in the distance. Harry followed her gaze.
Sitting on the opposite side of the Great Lake were Hermione, Neville, and Ron. The former sat in the middle, her eyes glued to where the rattlesnake had just been. There was a thoughtful expression upon her face, one Harry had only ever seen twice before.
Before the trip to the Third-Floor and the Polyjuice Potion.
They watched as the girl slowly stood up, muttering something to her two friends before heading back towards the castle. Ron and Neville glanced at each other, each sporting confused looks similar to the ones Harry and Nott had shared a moment prior. A second later they shot to their feet too, hastily following after their bushy-haired friend.
"Be careful, Harry." whispered Daphne, her voice barren. Harry met her eyes - a stream of worry poured from within, "Please, be careful."
"I will." he promised quietly, "I will."
