Chapter Eighteen
The Cheshire Cat
It had been three days since Harry's visit to Godric's Hollow. He had returned extremely late that night to the Leaky Cauldron, having made a midnight pit stop both to Flourish & Blotts and also to Knockturn Alley, where he went about pillaging through bookstores in search of information on locater charms, as well as anything else he could use to get by, including conjuring. If he could do a decent enough conjuring job, he figured his need for money would drop considerably; not to mention he could counterfeit bills and get them laundered in the muggle world, whereupon he could return to Gringotts and have them converted into galleons. It was all around illegal, and while that bothered him somewhat, he found he could lock up his conscience tightly enough not to get in his way. He was, after all, in the midst of a crisis and a little forethought would go a long way in terms of avoiding confrontations.
He was mildly disturbed to find that Minnie had disappeared, and prayed that she hadn't been stupid enough to go into the muggle world, for she would certainly not be able to find her way back. Resolving not to lament over the loss of his last companion, he forced himself to buckle down and begin searching for various methods of tracking and locating people. The sooner he managed to do that, the sooner he could round up his missing compadres and get the hell out of there.
It was on the fourth day, all the while under a basic illusion charm, eating fish and chips at the Leaky Cauldron, having been able to convert his conjured money into real dollars and finally dispense with the Imperius Curse, that he ran across the strangest sight he ever saw. Ron and Malfoy were chumming it up, both of whom were wearing the usual 'I'm a pureblood bastard' attire. It wasn't the Malfoy part that boggled his mind so much. It was the Ronald Weasley element that seemed to be throwing him for a loop. Ron? he thought curiously. Taking another bite and eyeing them speculatively as they ordered food in the most arrogant way possible, turning their nose up at everything, including old Tom the barkeep, and looking upon all the other patrons with haughty disdain, Harry felt an acute pang of loss at the absence of his two best friends. So engrossed was he in his memories and in staring at the two purebloods, he completely missed Ginny, who was swaggering over to where they were sitting and, to Harry's further chagrin, and mild annoyance, kissed Malfoy sloppily and greedily and wetly - ooh, gross, Harry thought - full on the lips. Then, to his dismay, she pointed out Harry to them and communicated something, which Harry realized quickly, was not a good thing. She must have seen me looking at them for what was probably longer than what passes for polite interest. Both boys narrowed their eyes and appraised Harry in a Slytherin sort of way, which made sense for Malfoy, but looked just plain wrong on Ron.
Harry focused his attention on his food, praying they would leave him alone, all the while keeping a third eye on their presence at all times. However, it was not meant to be. They approached, Malfoy and Ron taking position directly opposite Harry and studying him carefully. Peripherally, he noticed that Tom was looking apprehensively at Harry, and seemed to be silently begging him not to start trouble. If you only knew that I had you under the Imperius for the last week, he thought grimly. You may not be so quick to get worked up over my well-being.
"Looks a bit like a duffer, don't you think?" Ron asked, as if inspecting a doll or a mannequin or something.
"Yeah, a bit low on the food chain, if you ask me."
"A mudblood. Half-breed at best."
"And without two knuts to rub together, from the look of it."
Both snickered.
Christ, Harry thought. It's like hanging out with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. "Is there something I can help you with?" Harry asked in as polite a tone as possible.
"Definitely can't be a pureblood," Malfoy scoffed contemptuously. And then, turning to Harry as if acknowledging he were there for the first time, commanded in an imperious tone, "I've never seen you around Hogwarts. Where do you go to school?"
Harry was a bit surprised by the question. He supposed, reflecting on it, that they assumed they had a right to pump him for information. Perhaps the few initial comments were part of their intimidation routine. heck, keeping him off guard by forcing him to talk about himself was probably just another step in pushing people around; he supposed he should probably be taking notes. The tactics probably worked really well on younger kids. Even Harry was having trouble coming up with a decent response, or at least, something less belligerent than - "bugger off," he said finally, looking directly into Malfoy's eyes while he said this.
Malfoy in turn, sharpened his gaze, his expression turning dangerously predatory. "Mate, I think we have ourselves a tough guy."
Harry was reminded strongly of that cool summer morning back at the Old Place, back on his second day at Mosaics, with the demons. Keeping his hands under the table, Harry silently conjured a snake, and silently cast the Imperius curse on it, willing it to go forward and wrap itself around Ron's leg. Simultaneously, he silenced Malfoy just as he was in mid-speech. The abrupt silence caught him off guard, and he crossed his eyes just as TNT had done, as if trying to look at his own mouth to see just why the sound had stopped.
"What's the matter, Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?"
Peripherally, he noticed that many of the patrons had stopped what they were doing and were now watching the unfolding display with interest. Some of them looked amused, others apprehensive, and yet others still wore inscrutable expressions. "Mate?" Ron asked, glancing over at Malfoy. "What's the matter?"
This only served to incense the blond-haired Slytherin, as he had already spent the last thirty seconds in utter silence, first trying to figure out what had happened and then trying to communicate through wild hand gestures to his partner. Harry simply sat back and enjoyed the show, a smile curling the edge of his lips, as he watched the seeds of chaos take hold. Malfoy resorted to drawing his wand, which, under the circumstances, was a rather threatening step, but instead of pointing it at Harry or anyone else, he simply pointed it at himself and clearly, to Harry anyway, mouthed the words 'finite incantanum'. Unfortunately, this did not have the intended effect. Will wonders never cease, thought Harry, now more amused than ever. The ferret can't even cast wordlessly.
"Er, Draco?" Ron continued uncertainly.
"It was Ginny who finally put it together. Stepping next to Draco and clinging to his arm in a very Pansy Parkinson, sycophantic sort of way, she said, all the while pointing a finger at Harry, "He did something to him. Probably's got his wand stowed under the table. Must have been the silencing charm."
Malfoy started nodding vehemently and pointing at Harry to accuse him.
"Harry simply steepled his fingers and leaned forward onto the table with his elbows. Ron simply drew his wand to dispel the charm. "Er, Ron?" Harry asked in as polite as a tone as he could muster under the circumstances.
"What?" Ron asked, irritated at having been interrupted while he prepared to cast the counter-charm.
"You may wish to look down."
"Huh?" he asked, blinking in confusion.
It was Ginny who looked down first, and, seeing the six foot long adder that was slithering under the hem of Ron's robes, screamed in terror and took several steps back.
God, this is too easy, Harry thought. You should really stop baiting them.
"Wha-?" Ron asked, looking down and not quite comprehending the sight of the dark tail of the snake and all that it meant as it disappeared under his robes - that is until he felt it crawling up his leg. "Aack!" he exclaimed, a look of utter horror stealing over his features. Unlike Ginny, who was now putting distance between herself and them, Ron merely stood frozen in place, all his attention transfixed by the feel of the cold body sliding along his leg, all the while hissing, its forked tongue wetting Ron's thighs.
Malfoy, meanwhile, had backed up too, though for no particular reason, except that he didn't understand what exactly was wrong with Ron, and because he himself had been effectively crippled.
Harry leaned forward and drew Ron's attention with the sound of his voice, which had softened to a sibilant hiss. "Now listen to me, Weasley," he said, his eyes boring into Ron's. "You're just a hair's breadth away from death. You may or may not be aware that there is a giant snake under your pants, and it has contented itself to stay there for a little while. As long as I will it there, in fact. Its fangs, are highly poisonous and will drop you dead within seconds of a single bite. All it will take is a single thought from me; just one command, and your life will be extinguished." Harry snapped his fingers for effect. "Just like that," he said. "Now, I trust that you're a pretty smart guy, and that you'll understand when I say that the best course of action for you and your cronies to take is to go back to your table at the other end of the room and sit down nice and quiet like. You're going to go about finishing your meal and then you're going to leave, and once you've done that, and you've left, and you've managed not to piss me off in the process, you'll find yourself no longer in mortal peril. Are we clear, Weasley?"
Ron couldn't help but nod feebly, an act which satisfied Harry to no end.
"Good," Harry said, leaning back. "go then and do not bother me again. Ever."
And that was how Ron ended up eating lunch with a really big snake molesting his lower half.
Minnie had managed to hitch rides with four different truckers, getting all the way to the very spot where Harry had touched down with his new broom. She had sensed that the ethereal waves of energy had stopped pulsing, but still, the lingering sent of it remained in the air, wherever Harry had ended up had left a kind of beacon afterthought that still pulled her towards it. However, it was in the midst of the Black's lawn, which was heavily warded against magical and muggle intrusion, and as such, despite Minnie's efforts, which were enough to drive her past the repulsion wards and bring her to the inner ward sanctum, was not enough to take her all the way. She was hit with a powerful sleep charm from mutated Dreamweed that was growing in Lily's magical garden. As such, Minnie fell asleep and remained that way until Sirius found her lying prone on the lawn, face first in a shrub, snoring no less.
Well, he thought to himself, you don't see that everyday. Sirius knelt next to the girl and checked her vitals, which seemed to be fine. Then he made a swishing motion with his wand, and ascertained that she was mostly muggle, though there appeared to be a slight vila element somewhere in her blood. Interesting, he thought, returning to a standing position and nudging her with the tip of his boot. Of course, he realized after a moment of pondering. The anti-muggle Dreamweed. Not actually knowing how to counter one of Lily's personal charms, he did the only sensible thing and began calling for his wife. "Oy, Lily! Muggle on the lawn!" And, with that out of the way, Sirius apparated to work, or at least, as close to it as he could get.
The Fidelius
The Fidelius Charm is among one of the most ancient and complex charms in the known wizarding world. It requires mastery in all of Potions, Transfiguration and Charms, making it one of the most demanding spells to execute. So demanding is it that only a handful of wizards and witches on the planet have been able to cast it over the last two thousand years, and, as such, it has remained both obscure and irrelevant to daily living. The term 'Charm' in the title of the spell is misleading, because the Fidelius is actually a layering of seven distinct spells and three potions. Lesser versions of the Fidelius have been constructed using fewer spells and fewer potions, but they do not achieve the same level of security. Unlike other wards and protections, the Fidelius renders the object of the charm impregnable to outsiders, the only weak link being the Secret Keeper. The beauty of the charm, however, is that the secret keeper can take refuge within the charmed environment, making the protection of the charm recursive and thus foolproof. Only if the secret keeper chooses to expose him or herself by leaving the charmed area does he or she risk exposing the charmed area to potential threats.
Three of the spells required fall under the category of Charms, two under Transfiguration and one under Defense Against the Dark Arts. These six spells are amongst some of the most difficult to cast, and require mastery in the area of magic before a witch or wizard can properly execute them. While these spells are difficult enough on their own, it is the last spell that causes witches and wizards the most difficulty. This spell is a light spell that has not been classified. Scholars today cannot agree on how to understand the spell either through its arithmantic components or through its purpose. It is regarded, therefore, as simply light magic, similar to that of Merlin's spells, many of which have not been executed since Merlin himself. For a history of the uses of the Fidelius and its tactical and strategic advantages and disadvantages, flip to page eight. For a breakdown of the spells used in the Fidelius's execution, flip to page 16. For the potions used, flip to page 92. For a breakdown of the arithmancy relating to both the potions and spells, flip to page 224.
Page 24.
The defense spell used in the Fidelius is known as the Null Shield. Unlike conventional shields, which create barriers to incoming spells, thereby deflecting or absorbing them, the null shield creates a magical vacuum. Spells that enter the non-magic field experience magic depressurization, effectively causing the spell to diffuse harmlessly as the spell is pulled apart to fill out the non-magical field. The Null Shield is known to be effective against all spells, excluding the three unforgiveables, and, theoretically, all spells based on soul magic.
The Null Shield can take the form of just about any shape, ranging from a spherical ball to a disc, to toruses and cones. This makes the shield extremely versatile, because a caster can, in theory, surround himself with the shield, effectively cocooning himself and others around him from attacks. It should be noted that the size and the complexity of the shape impact the difficulty of the spell. The threshold for execution of the shield is already extremely high, in part because it requires extreme focus and in part because it requires in-depth magical knowledge, or, in some cases, intuition.
The null field is generated by a thin layer of magic that extends from the caster to encompass the null field. Spells based on soul magic, such as the unforgiveables, connect to a caster's magic, and so will connect through this thin layer and travel through the layer, thus circumnavigating the field altogether, rendering the shield useless against the unforgiveables except under certain circumstances. The manner in which the shield is used for the purposes of the Fidelius is to affix the field to an object, thus detaching the energy from the caster. In this respect, the shield will be effective against all forms of magic. Note, placing yourself within the field will render you incapable of casting magic. As well, your magical core will be suppressed, which may have associated side effects, like reduced immune function. Prolonged exposure may have unknown, permanent side effects, including trauma to one's magical core. Very little is known about these effects. It is important that the caster be competent enough to cast the shield so that it forms the correct shape for the charmed area, if it is expected that the charmed area is meant to provide a suitable environment for habitation. The shield should be sufficiently hollowed out so that the field does not impinge on the daily living of the inhabitants.
Lily was confused, to say the least. It had come as something of a shock to hear that her supposedly dead son may very well be alive and running about. It was the kind of news that lent itself to endless questions, to the reopening of old wounds, to the surfacing of new ones - especially when it came part and parcel with the news that the central character in question was, in all likelihood in the service of Lord Voldemort, and that, at the very least, he was pretty much guilty of murdering a bunch of aurors while fleeing Hogwarts, not to mention the use of the Imperius curse against several unsuspecting innocent people, and the theft of the world's most advanced broom, the Orbital, the protections over which he apparently shattered - and wandlessly to boot.
As impressive and rather frightening as all those things were, which made Lily think that, on a rational level at least, she should treat him like any other hostile agent and simply wash her hands of the whole affair, the simple fact was that she loved him. Or at least, would if he were truly her son. She had also had the presence of mind to point out that the figure had stolen the broom for the apparent purpose of flying to Godric's Hollow to spy on her and James Potter. Secretly, that rather pleased her to no end, though it did little to answer the multitude of questions that were flitting through her brain as she baked muffins on that blustery Saturday afternoon. She had barred Sylvia from leaving the premises until the whole sordid mess had been dealt with - an act that greatly annoyed her daughter, who retaliated by throwing a tantrum and locking herself in her bedroom.
"YOU NEVER LET ME GO ANYWHERE!" she had wailed, slamming her door for effect. "IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT THE BLOODY WAR! DO THIS SYLVIA! DO THAT SYLVIA! YOU HAVE TO! IT'S THE WAR'S FAULT, SYLVIA, NOT MINE. WELL, SCREW THE BLOODY WAR! I HATE IT ALL!"
Lily just sighed and continued baking her muffins, not knowing what else to do. She was young enough that she still understood how children thought; how even trivial things could loom like cataclysms in the mind of a child, and the only remedy she knew for those injustices was simple time, and when, Sylvia had cooled enough, she would go talk to her and they would hammer out some sort of compromise, which would probably be shattered come the next day, when new revelations about the situation were uncovered.
And then of course there was the strange girl they had found slumped on the lawn. At first, Lily was downright surprised by the fact that a muggle had penetrated the outer layers of the anti-muggle wards. It would have taken great strength of will or determination to push past the notice-me-nots and Diversion Charm, which meant that the girl was clearly fixated on entering the charmed region, though for what purpose was anyone's guess. Lily was fairly certain it had to do with Harry; a deduction which had proven correct when she said his name upon waking. What was more disturbing is that, in her bleary state, the muggle had been looking directly at Lily, had been looking directly into her eyes and seemed to have recognized her, as though the muggle had mistaken Lily for her son. And Sylvia had said he had green eyes. A very uncommon colour.
The oven chimed, indicating that the muffins were ready. Lily took them out and took two and put them on plates, which she then brought to the living room. She wasn't terribly comfortable doing this, but she needed answers and this seemed like the only recourse available to her. Baked into the muffins was a combination Calming draft and fidelity draft. It wouldn't make the girl tell her the truth, but it would at least let Lily know which of the muggle's answers were false.
Minnie was looking about interestedly at the multitude of photos that lined the walls and the mantel of the fireplace, as though she were curious about the nature of family dynamics. Lily supposed that Minnie, like Harry, probably had had a strange life. She took a moment to study the girl, her deep, golden hair that cascaded down her backside in long smooth streams, the soft lines of her eyes and nose and mouth; her unmarred skin, the glitter in her eyes, the fullness in her red lips, her gentle lashes. Lily would have thought the girl to spend much of her life grooming herself to be a doll, except that the grace and eloquence of her visage was naturally present. She seemed to make the tattered, grass-stained clothes that clearly didn't quite fit her look stunning. It was nearly magical the way she exuded an aura of intimacy and child-like naiveté, which, unlike the power of vilas, which tended to suppress the rational element of members of the opposite sex, was acquired by virtue of some inner divine beauty. It was as though she were the child of God, and only those few lucky blessed enough to feel the awesome warmth flowing from her could truly appreciate just what she meant to the world. If Lily were fifteen years younger, she would probably be incredibly jealous of the muggle girl.
"Ahem," she said, gathering Minnie's attention. "I thought you might be hungry."
Minnie looked up from the family photo that she was now holding in her hands, her silver eyes locking with Lily's emerald ones before focusing on the plate of muffins. "Yes, actually. Thank you." Minnie returned the photo to the mantel and took a seat in an armchair, though Lily noted she didn't lean back and make herself comfortable. Instead, she kept her back straight and her hands resting on her lap, as if aware that she were in the presence of an extremely dangerous being. Lily put the plate of muffins down on the glass coffee table that was between them, and took a seat opposite her. "so," Lily began in as gentle a voice as possible. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"
Lily picked up a muffin and bit into it. She was confident that she had enough tolerance to the Fidelity draft that she wouldn't be as obvious about showing signs of deception, and she figured the Calming draft wouldn't really hurt her during the process.
"I don't really know what to say," Minnie said hesitantly, her brows furrowing in concentration as she considered Lily's statement. "I mean, there's a lot about me. I'm sure you don't want to know everything."
"Why don't we start with your name?" Lily asked.
"My name is Minnie."
Well, that was something, Lily thought. At least I have a name. She wondered if she should cut directly to questions about Harry or if she should amble along asking either irrelevant or indirect questions. This is why you're a healer and not an auror, she told herself; not for the first time. You don't have the knack for this sort of thing. Lily, however, was derailed immediately by Minnie's next statement.
"You're his mother."
It was a rather simple statement, but it nevertheless chilled her to the bone to hear this stranger confirming for her the existence of her would-be dead son. It made her scared, because Minnie seemed to be scrutinizing Lily very carefully, as if understanding Harry through her. "I understand why he had to come and see you," she went on, oblivious to Lily's confusion. "He has your eyes."
When Lily next spoke, she managed only a strained whisper, her own emotions flowing through her in torrents. "How?" It wasn't a very comprehensible question, though Minnie seemed to understand, because she responded in a gentle but firm tone.
"It's not really my story to tell. I don't really know if he'll want to talk about it, because he must be very confused right now." Minnie then went on to demonstrate uncanny insight by saying, "I have no doubt that he has locked you away in his mind and will refuse to even think about it. I imagine seeing you was so huge for him, he didn't even begin to realize the ramifications to his own self until afterwards. You should know that he's dreamt of seeing you for the longest time; to feel loved, to recapture the childhood that was stolen from him. At the same time, he can't, because it contradicts everything he's ever learned; it contradicts the things that have kept him alive this long."
"Where - where has he been?" Lily asked.
Minnie smiled a sad sort of smile; like the way an adult will look upon an innocent child who has asked a naive question. "In another dimension, of course."
They sat in silence for a long time after that, Lily slowly digesting Minnie's few statements. Another dimension? she wondered. It made a strange sort of sense, she decided finally. After all, Harry had been murdered and all the second guessing she had been doing about herself and about James Potter and their failed relationship since news of Harry's return had simply been wearing her down. There had been no helping it; there was nothing she could have done. Eventually, Lily turned to Minnie, a determined resolve in her eyes. "Where is he?"
Minnie stood in one gentle, fluid motion, and clasped one of Lily's hands in hers. "Come and let me show you. We will find him together."
Harry Potter walked into Borgin & Burkes, his wand in hand, the hood of his cloak pulled up to hide his face in shadows. It looked the same as when he had last been in it, back before the start of his second year, when Lucius had come in to unload dark artifacts to avoid Ministry scrutiny. Harry took a moment to look around, enjoying the fact that he could do so without Borgin hanging around and scrutinizing him. The creepy looking hand thing was still there, as well as a number of items that Harry had never seen before. None of them, however, interested him very much, except for perhaps a particularly dangerous looking dagger. It had a simple, black rubber grip and a gleaming white blade that looked really really sharp. Keeping his wand in hand, he checked to see if there were any wards preventing him from picking it up. There were none, but there was a perimeter ward that ensured he wouldn't take it too far away without suffering dire consequences. He simply nulled it.
The handle felt warm and comforting in his hand, like old friends reunited after a long time.
"May I help you?" came Borgin's voice from somewhere behind Harry. He turned around casually, still holding the dagger and then made a show of sizing up the creepy store owner. It had not gone unnoticed to Harry that the man was speaking to him with an antagonistic tone.
"Now, now," Harry said in an infuriatingly calm and relaxed tone. "You don't need to be like that." Harry flicked his hood back to reveal his startling, emerald eyes and his messy black hair that made him a dead ringer for James Potter. He then cocked his head to one side and gave Borgin a questioning look. It seemed to take a moment for the old man to understand what it was that Harry was offering, or perhaps to decide whether to trust the kid. Eventually, Borgin made a decision and drew his wand, pointing it to Harry and saying, 'Legilimans." Harry felt the probe and directed it to his use of the Imperius, his theft of the Orbital broom, the murder of the aurors, before cutting Borgin off and making a show of looking around at the items in the store once more. After letting a moment pass so that the old man could collect himself, he then said, "No doubt you're wondering why your wards didn't alert you when I entered. Fear not, they were working fine." Harry paused, and, after a moment of thinking about it, he added, "Well, they were working. I can't say for sure what state they're in now." He turned and gave Borgin a hard, penetrating stare. "I trust we can come to an agreement over a few things."
"You the Potter boy?" Borgin asked, clearly shaken and trying to recapture some semblance of control.
Harry simply replied. "I'm not really going to answer that question." And then, he added, "But I would like to do a little bit of bargaining."
Borgin's eyes narrowed, as if suddenly scrutinizing Harry for the first time. In all honesty, Harry wasn't much to look at. He was abnormally scrawny, short, his hair was constantly mussed. On the upshot, at least he didn't wear glasses anymore. Still, despite his rather minute frame and sickly pallor, he cut a disturbing sight with his green eyes and intense gaze and his posture which communicated the simple message: I will kill you if you piss me off.
"What do you want?" Borgin finally asked.
"Tell me everything you know about this blade," he commanded, holding up the knife.
Borgin complied, saying, "It is known as Odin's Dirk. It is made from nundu bone and dried basilisk gore. It is highly magical at a core level and will permanently deform anything it cuts. If you want it, it will cost you a lot of money."
"Funny that you should have it on display in your front window," Harry mused.
"Only he who has dealt with a basilisk personally can even see the weapon," Borgin replied. "Now, I ask you again, who are you. And this time, I expect an answer."
Harry burst out laughing. "Don't tell me you've dealt with a basilisk, Borgin. It's laughable to think you could handle one."
"I'll have you know I have the only basilisk egg in the entire country."
Harry stopped laughing and turned a steely gaze to the man. In a voice that commanded obedience, he said, "Show me."
And so, that was how Harry found himself staring at a basilisk egg. Borgin's one and only, it was a prized possession of his; one of the few eggs that had come into existence and could be gazed upon by mortal eyes. "My God," Harry whispered reverently, the creature inside singing to him. "Where did you get such a thing?"
Borgin replied in a whisper, fear and awe tinging his voice as he spoke. "There's only one being alive that could have brought me such a creature. He has asked that I keep her for him. You know of whom I speak. It is the Dark Lord himself. It is said that you stormed Dumbledore's school with You-Know-Who himself at your side. You killed those aurors and walked away. They say you are a member of his secret police; that you must be one of his most trusted and guarded allies. They say you are the Colonel."
Harry listened with only mild interest, until he heard the term Colonel. Did such a person exist? He did not know, but he was most curious to find out, and at the moment, if it helped him to lead Borgin on, then Harry was happy to do it. He had already planned to come in and pretend to be a badass dark artist. Playing off Voldemort was just a plus, as far as he was concerned.
"You will give me the basilisk," Harry said in his authoritative voice. Still, Borgin balked, looking unsure as to whether he should comply with this command. Borgin had been informed by Lucius Malfoy himself about the importance of this egg, and he was not confident in giving it up to just anyone without confirmation. Harry saw all this and was prepared to do whatever it took to have the basilisk egg. so, he simply turned to it, ignoring Borgin and speaking in Parseltongue. "Come, child. Come, king of snakes. Come to me and join me."
From the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Borgin was taken aback by Harry's use of the ancient language of snakes, and was more so when the egg began to hatch, having obeyed Harry's command. In a fit of terror, Borgin fled, not wanting to be subjected to the wrath of a basilisk, for, as any good pureblooded witch or wizard knew, the basilisk could kill at a glance. Harry simply waited patiently, Marv's voice speaking in his head; a statement made in a world far away. Tell me, Harry, is Legilimancy a fundamentally magical phenomenon? Harry now knew the answer. He understood it like it had always been with him. Yes. Yes, it was.
The tiny little snake poked its head out of the shell, the wet membrane from inside making its yellow eyes and greyish-green skin glisten. "Mother," it hissed.
"No, child," said Harry, looking straight into the creature's eyes. "I am not your mother."
"Then where is she?" asked it. "Where is the one that will care for me?"
Harry smiled a warm, gentle smile. "I will care for you, child."
"then you will be my mother," it hissed.
Harry shook his head. "No I will not. You must understand, child. Your mother is dead. But I will take her place, if you wish me to. If you do not, then I will understand that as well, and you may be on your way to go in search of that which you seek."
The basilisk infant seemed to consider this for a long time, and then, coming to a decision, understanding and resolve in its eyes, it said to Harry, "I understand. My mother is dead. You are not my mother. But you will take care of me. I will join you until I choose otherwise."
Harry nodded. "Indeed, that is wise of you, child. Come then, and let us go. I will transfigure you so that your eyes do not kill all that they see."
And so, the basilisk slithered onto Harry's outstretched hand, trundled along his arm, and curled itself around his bicep, and then promptly fell asleep. He then turned around to discover that Borgin was looking at him with a renewed fear and awe, much the same as when he spoke of the Dark Lord Voldemort. "You truly are a Parselmouth," he said quietly, his gaze flicking between Harry and the snake.
"Consider me to be the Dark Lord's heir," Harry said breezily. One day, Borgin would have to answer for his missing basilisk, and the Dark Lord would be most displeased to find out someone was pretending to be his heir. Undoubtedly, the Dark Lord's wrath would come down on poor, hapless Borgin. Harry wasn't particularly bothered by this. In fact, he was sure that he was downright apathetic to the whole thing. And, while he'd found two very interesting things to aid him in his future endeavours, he still had not fulfilled the task he had set for himself when he elected to come to the dark arts shop.
"There is only one thing left," Harry said, glancing down at his new familiar with affection. Still not looking at Borgin, he went on, "Tell me everything you know about a certain dark haired boy that worked here back in the fifties. I believe his name was Tom Riddle."
Borgin seemed confused by the statement, as if trying to piece together what some insignificant kid from so long ago would have to do with a fearsome Parselmouth in league with the Dark Lord. Still, he obliged, telling Harry everything he knew over several glasses of Firewhisky, which Borgin drank greedily, and which Harry simply vanished wandlessly little by little, only pretending to drink it. - a technique he learned from having to deal with Slughorn.
