Harry Potter and Gryffindor's Secret
Chapter 8: The Basement Room
By: Lin-z
AN: Here it is, chapter eight! If you have any questions/comments/concerns, please direct them to my e-mail address: icklebugger1983@yahoo.co.uk or leave your e-mail address in your review. I will answer any received in a timely manner! Oh, and I'd like to extend a public thank-you to the people who beta-read this for me, and to Coqui, who has offered to do it again next time! I've made quite a few revisions in the previous chapters, including an author's note regarding Harry's birth-year in chapter 6, so, if you want, you can go back and read it.
Disclaimer: I, of course, am not J.K. Rowling or Warner Bro's, and therefore neither own nor imply rights to Harry Potter. (Do I have to do one of these each time??) Oh well. On with the story, you say? Right then!
Harry sat astride his Firebolt, soaring high above the Earth. It occurred to him that he hadn't the slightest idea as to why he was flying, or where, for that matter, but he was powerless to change directions. Resigning himself to the self-steering broomstick, he looked down to the ground over which he was flying. There was a troubled dark sea, and a short distance away was an island. Actually, to Harry, it seemed to be more of giant rock with a great stone fortress atop. As he neared the fortress, he recognised it from pictures he had seen in his History of Magic course books as Azkaban, the famous wizard gaol. His broomstick slowed and began to descend, cutting through the cold salty spray of the crashing waves as they broke against the rocky cliff.
The broom came to a stop just outside an open window, and Harry scrambled off, crouching on the ledge. He climbed off the sill, jumped, and landed lightly on the floor just below. He turned around, leaning out of the window to collect his broom, discovering that it had vanished. He was about to reach further out to search for it when he heard voices approaching the room in which he now stood. Before he was able to properly conceal himself, though, the two men had entered the room. They appeared not to notice the frightened teenager by the window, however, and continued conversing in the same hushed tones. They appeared to be making small talk, as if waiting for someone else to arrive.
Harry listened carefully, trying to decipher what it was they were talking about, but, not hearing anything of particular interest, he decided to take a look at the room around him. It was a cavernous stone room, rectangular in shape. It's rough stone walls looked much like the outer walls of the fortress. Torches in brass fixtures burned at intervals along the walls, lending a flickering, surreal atmosphere to the stone chamber. Close to the centre of the room there was a square dais, upon which was a gilded throne. The throne was made of green velvet, and appeared to be resting upon legs of coiled golden serpents. The two Death Eaters standing before the dais abruptly ceased speaking as a third robed figure glided into the room.
Harry slapped a hand to his scar as a burning pain rent his forehead. He knew, without having to see the serpentine visage, that the man who had just entered the room was none other than the iniquitous Voldemort, the vilest dark wizard of recent history. Voldemort was wearing robes of blackest velvet, his face set in an unpleasant scowl as he approached his place on the dais.
The moment Voldemort had entered the room, the two Death Eaters prostrated themselves upon the floor, arms stretched out before them, foreheads touching the cold stone floor. Neither dared look up as the dark lord seated himself upon the gilded throne, sneering disdainfully at his cowering subjects. Once he was seated, they crawled forward one at a time and kissed the hem of his robes, then crawled back and resumed their previous positions.
'Get up,' he hissed. The Death Eaters rose to their feet and looked to their master expectantly. 'Lucius,' he spat, and the taller man to the right stepped forward. 'Yes, my lord?' he replied. 'You have performed admirably. Do they suspect any, shall we say, foul play?' Voldemort questioned.
'No, I don't believe so, sir,' Lucius Malfoy replied. 'I was in hiding nearby when they discovered him. They believe he had an accident on his broomstick. They do not suspect our part in this.'
Voldemort smiled, which, on his terrible face, was anything but pleasant. 'That is good, you have done well. You are free to go,' the dark lord said, turning to face the other Death Eater as Malfoy hastily exited the room.
'Nott,' he said. 'Your last mission went well, as we now have complete control of Azkaban and the Dementors. How goes your new assignment?' he inquired.
Nott looked around uncomfortably, twisting his fingers as he thought how best to answer his master. 'My lord, it is difficult. Gryffindor's book has proved most elusive. I can find no records on where it or Slytherin's potion might be located,' he answered reluctantly.
'Crucio!' Voldemort shouted, and Nott fell to the floor, writhing as the curse wracked his body. A few moments later Voldemort lifted his wand and Nott shakily returned to his feet. 'I am sorry, my lord,' he said in a voice little more than a whisper. Voldemort ignored his feeble apology. 'You will find the location of Gryffindor's spell book, or next time the punishment will not be so easy.'
Nott nodded. 'Yes, my lord,' he replied.
'You may go. Tell the others I approve of muggle torture, no killings, mind.' Voldemort watched the retreating form of his minion and slammed his fist against the arm of his throne. 'Mark my words, I will have Harry Potter!' He yelled to no one in particular.
At this display of anger another shock of pain shot through Harry's scar, and he burst up in bed, panting as if he had been running. Two pale and sleep-rumpled faces jerked back at Harry's abrupt return to wakefulness.
'Harry, are you all right?' A Sirius-shaped blur inquired. Harry found his glasses and slid them on.
'Harry, you gave us quite a fright! What happened?' Ron added.
Harry rubbed at the lingering pain in his scar. 'I'm fine, I think I had a bad dream is all. Why are you two awake?' he asked.
'I woke up when I heard you thrashing about in bed. I tried to wake you,' Ron said, 'but when you wouldn't wake I ran to fetch Sirius, and he couldn't wake you either. That was strange,' he finished, looking at Harry worriedly.
'You weren't dreaming about You-Know-Who again, were you?' Sirius asked, his worried expression matching Ron's to perfection.
'Erm, no … of course not! Just one of those bothersome "oh dear, I've gone to school in my knickers" dreams,' Harry lied. 'I'm okay, so I'll just go back to sleep now,'
Sirius looked doubtful. 'Are you sure?' he asked.
Harry nodded. 'Yeah, thanks. You can both go back to bed now,' Harry replied as he removed his glasses and adjusted the bulky cast to a more accommodating position. Ron and Sirius nodded and said goodnight before returning to their own beds.
Harry lay back against his pillows and closed his eyes, thinking. His night-time rendezvous with Voldemort had proved informational, but Harry didn't know what to make of it. Voldemort must have abducted him somehow and broken his leg, which would account for why it would not heal magically. He had read, at one point in his research for the Triwizard Tournament, that there were certain injury curses which could not be healed by magic, and had to mend naturally. He knew, however, that if he told anyone that Voldemort had done this to him, that Sirius would doubt his abilities as a protector and Harry would be forced to leave, and that simply wouldn't do.
He also now knew that Voldemort had taken residence in Azkaban. That must have been a recent occurrence, because it had only been a week or so since Pettigrew had been administered The Kiss, and that wouldn't have happened with Voldemort in command. This he had to tell someone, and he resolved to write a letter to Dumbledore in the morning.
The thing that bothered him most, though, was that he now knew that Voldemort was up to something again. He had mentioned a Book of Gryffindor, and a potion of Slytherin, but as he had never heard of either, he didn't know what to make of them. Harry determined to do a little investigation of his own. Whatever they were, they must be important and dangerous to have Voldemort seeking them. For the time being, however, he was perfectly content to succumb to exhaustion and soon fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next day passed uneventfully. Harry, Ron and Hermione spent a good deal of time working on their holiday coursework, much to Ron's displeasure. Sirius let them alone until mid-afternoon, when the doctor arrived with Harry's crutches. Sirius and Dr Matthews went into Harry's room to find the three of them surrounded by stacks of books and parchment, arguing about Divination assignments.
'You can't just keep making it up,' Hermione was saying. 'Sooner or later she's going to find out what you've been doing.'
Ron waved her away. 'As long as we predict plenty of doom-and-gloom, she's perfectly happy!' Hermione frowned. She definitely didn't like that class, but it was almost a personal insult when people didn't do their homework properly.
'Hi kids,' Sirius said. The three of them turned around, surprised to see Sirius and Dr Matthews standing in the doorway.
'Hi,' they replied.
'So Harry, are you ready for your crutches?' Dr Matthews asked, holding out a pair of wooden crutches.
'Am I ever!' He said, reaching for the crutches.
'I've given them a cushion charm, so they shouldn't be that uncomfortable. If you'll stand up I can fit them to your height.' Harry took the crutches under his arms, and stood up. The doctor placed them at the correct height, and showed Harry how to use them.
'Thank you, Dr Matthews,' Harry said as the doctor prepared to leave.
'You're welcome, lad. You're to come see me in three weeks, mind. Want to make sure the bone is setting right.' 'All right,' Harry replied. The doctor bade them good day and Disapparated with a pop.
'Wow, Harry, those are neat! Real muggle crutches!' Ron exclaimed, crossing the room to get a better look at Harry's new crutches.
'Oh yeah,' Harry said, smiling at Ron's enthusiasm, 'they're real swell.'
'How about some lasagne?' Sirius asked. 'Sounds great!' they replied, and they all made their way downstairs for dinner.
After everyone had had their fill and all was cleaned up, it was time for Ron and Hermione to leave. Hermione's home had been connected to the Floo Network for the evening, and with a pinch of powder, she was gone. Ron left soon after, making arrangements to have Harry visit the Burrow later in the summer.
***
The next day, being a Monday, Sirius had to go to work. Before Azkaban, Sirius had been an Auror, so he was now employed by Albus Dumbledore, trying to find leads on what was going on with Voldemort. He and Harry breakfasted together, and then it was almost time for Sirius to leave.
'Harry, I have a question for you,' Sirius said.
Harry looked up from putting the dishes back in the cabinet. 'Okay, what is it?' he asked.
'Just what were you doing outside the other day?' Sirius inquired.
'Um, I guess I just figured it wouldn't matter if I only went outside for a bit,' he lied. Harry didn't think his godfather would have a very easy time understanding that Harry was with Voldemort, and he knew that it would get his godfather needlessly upset.
'Hmm … Just be sure it doesn't happen again, okay?' Sirius said. 'Have fun Harry, and don't get into too much trouble, or we'll have to find you a nanny!' he joked. Harry groaned. 'I'm teasing,' Sirius added. 'How about this- when I get back home I'll start teaching you to Apparate!'
Harry grinned from ear to ear. 'Really?'
'Yes, really!' Sirius said.
'That sounds great!' Harry exclaimed. They said goodbye, and Sirius Disapparated.
Soon after Sirius left, Harry made his way to his room to write his letter to Dumbledore. He told his professor that he had had a dream, in the which he had seen Voldemort and a few Death Eaters in an island fortress resembling pictures he had seen of Azkaban. He asked if what he had seen had truly happened, then tied the roll of parchment to Hedwig's leg and sent her off.
Harry knew precisely what he wanted to do next. He hadn't been able to finish exploring that basement room he had found the other day, and he wanted to see how much of his parents' things were actually down there. He picked up his crutches and hobbled his way from the second storey to the basement steps, being very careful so as not to miss a step and tumble down. Just as before, the candles around the wall sprang to life just as he touched the base of the steps. The room was just as he had left it, with his parents' trunk in the centre. He cleared out enough space before it to allow him a place to sit, then sat in front of the trunk and lifted the lid. There were neat bunches of envelopes addressed to his parents, each tied neatly with a scarlet ribbon. Beneath the letters he found annuals of his parents' Hogwarts years, journals his parents had written, and various other memorabilia. There was one thing, in particular, that caught his eye. There was a folded piece of parchment attached to the lid of the trunk, and it bore his name. In emerald green ink, the words "Harry Potter" glittered as though they had been written yesterday. With tears in his eyes, he gently removed the parchment, and broke the seal (a red letter "P" with a rampant lion behind it). He unfolded the letter and began to read:
Our Dear Harry,
Harry, my son, as I write this letter and I watch you playing happily with your father, it saddens me to know that the only way you will see this is if we are gone. Voldemort's forces continue to gather strength, and I know it will not be long now until he finds us. Please know that while we are gone from this mortal world, we still love you and watch over you. As a wise man once told me, 'The dead we love never truly leave us.'
We are leaving this trunk with Sirius in hopes that you will, one day, be able to get to know us better through the items within. It contains our journals, annuals, letters (including some fluffy love letters your father insisted we include … your father is incorrigible), and photographs.
We love you, dear, and you mean the world to us. Don't forget who you are, and the potential you posses. You hold powers unique to yourself, and I pray that you never have to use them. If, however, the time comes that such powers are necessary, we trust you to make the right decision.
With all our love,
James and Lily Potter
Harry folded the letter and wiped the tears from his eyes. He carefully placed it where he had found it, and pulled out an old annual from 1978, his parents' final year at Hogwarts. He spent all day lost in his parents' memories, so lost, in fact, that he didn't hear his godfather's approaching footsteps.
'Harry,' Sirius called out softly.
Harry jumped and turned around. 'Sirius! Oh dear, you startled me!' he said.
'Sorry,' his godfather replied. 'I see you've found your parents' trunk,' he said.
Harry nodded. 'I found it sometime before I broke my leg, but I didn't have a chance to really look inside, so I came back today,' Harry said.
'That's fine,' Sirius said, 'I was going to show this to you shortly anyhow, but since you've found it on your own, what do you think?' he asked.
'It's incredible,' he replied. 'The only thing I had from my parents was my father's cloak, the one Professor Dumbledore gave me first year. It's been great having it, but it's nothing like this,' Harry said.
Sirius nodded sombrely. 'I think they knew somehow that they would never see you grow up, and they wanted you to have some way of getting to know them.' Harry turned his head, blinking rapidly and fighting tears.
'How about we go upstairs now and I start teaching you to Apparate, like I promised. I know it's not exactly legal for you, but if you only do it around the house, it shouldn't present a problem, and it will make it ever so much easier to get around, not having to use those crutches,' Sirius said, trying to distract Harry. He'd never seen him get emotional about anything- even last year at the end of the Triwizard Tournament he hadn't been like this. Harry smiled and nodded. 'That's an excellent idea,' he said, putting things back in the trunk and grabbing his crutches. Sirius helped him up, and together they walked upstairs, leaving the basement room and the memories it contained for another day.
AN: Yes, I know Apparating is illegal for underage wizards, but Sirius is just trying to make Harry's life easier, and this will come in handy later in the story, so yeah. Thanks again to the numerous people who have reviewed the previous chapters! (Those of you who weren't planning on leaving a review could take a lesson from them!) So here's farewell 'till next chapter! REVIEW! Ü (for those of you who asked what that means, it's a smiley face … the umlaut is it's eyes, and the U is a smile.)