The fifth of March was a pleasant day – the sun was shining, the birds were singing as they flittered about the Hogwarts grounds, students were able to venture outside after classes without getting soaked to the bone.
For Harry, it felt like any other Friday, and he'd had a fairly productive day. It had started with Charms, where Professor Flitwick had taught them the basics of Finite, a spell that could counter most charms and transfiguration spells. While they hadn't progressed to the practical side of the spell quite yet, he thought he had the basic theory down well enough to give it a solid effort.
Double Herbology had followed Flitwick's class, and it had been a practical class on the caring for Mandrakes – specifically, the ones that would be used in the creation of the potion that would be administered to those that had been petrified throughout the year. Each student had been as careful and serious with the Mandrakes as possible, and only one student had needed to visit Madame Pomfrey – fellow Gryffindor Oliver Parker hadn't worn his earmuff's properly and the plants' screaming had caused him to pass out.
He'd been lucky – the scream from a mature Mandrake could kill.
After lunch, where Hermione had been rather smug about duelling him to a draw the night before, it was double Alchemy, another practical lesson, and the last of the day. He had sat with his friends, as he always did, and they focused on the process of transmuting a feather to stone – though what practical application that could achieve was beyond his comprehension.
Still, he considered the class a success – only three cauldron's had exploded, and none of them had been because of Seamus!
Pansy Parkinson's had been the first. They had been working away, only for the shrill cry of, "Get down!" sent them all scrambling under the desks. When the debris had stopped raining down around them, they had all slowly edged out from beneath the long workstations and dared to look around. Pansy had been lucky, for a small crater was carved into the floor where her station had been.
Dean Thomas had been second, though his hadn't been quite so violent – it was tiny, in comparison. Just a minor flash of light, and his face had been covered in a sickly green ichor.
The last had surprised him – Hannah Abbott. She was usually one of the better students in the subject, and had rarely had anything go wrong while brewing, or even applying her practical work. Hers had exploded quite similarly to Pansy's, only her cloud had been a deep violet – and her station was much closer to his and his friends than Pansy's had been.
The rest of the class had gone rather smoothly, with Professor Saller not even assigning any homework for the weekend – an event that had all of the students silently cheering.
After class, while everyone went and did their own thing – his friends disappeared to the Library to continue their search and he had wandered off to his session with Micca. It had been another interesting lesson, though, vexingly, he still struggled to consciously speak Parseltongue – something that vexed him intensely.
He usually sat with Micca in the Magical Languages classroom, meditating while she instructed him one way or another. While he had shared details of his lessons with his friends, there was much he couldn't tell them – there was so much about Parseltongue that was feeling.
Snakes, generally, were not an emotive species, and instead relied on expressing themselves through magic, which is where the true beauty of the skill lay. There was something incredibly profound about knowing how a snake truly felt, beyond hearing the words. It broke his heart that so many considered it a staple of Dark Lords.
Today, Micca had introduced him to a wonderful Sapphire Anaconda – it had easily been the largest magical snake Harry had ever seen, though his experiences had been limited to those that had Familiars and the young that were in Magical Menagerie.
Her size had been staggering and he'd initially expected Professor Kettleburn, or Hagrid to burst into the room in an attempt to introduce her to a class. She was almost as long as Hagrid was tall, and her body was so thick that he had only just been able to wrap his arms around her.
Her name was Jenei, and she had been a wonderful conversationalist, though – her quick wit had often left him scrambling to keep up, and her scales had been beautiful to look at, shimmering in the fading sunlight that peeked in through the large windows along the wall.
She had told him of her home, and of her wizard – a friend of Micca's from Asia who had met Jenei when travelling the Americas. He spent several hours simply chatting to the snake, and while he knew that she could easily crush him with her body, she had been nothing but sweet and gentle with him.
It was nice to hear of her and her wizard's travels and even to hear of other Parselmouths that she had come into contact with. He had smiled as she'd threatened to devour the whole school for shunning a Speaker so foolishly – even Micca had laughed, despite her attempt to remain the responsible teacher.
In truth, the three of them had lost track of time – their usual one-hour session had ended up stretching into three. Micca had been sitting cross-legged opposite him on the floor, and Jenei had curled her body up behind Harry, encouraging him to recline on her so she could comfortably rest her wide, arrow-shaped head on his chest.
Before they had parted ways, Jenei had expressed a desire to visit him again – something he quickly agreed to, and even offered to introduce her to his own Familiars, Clara and Hedwig. She had visibly perked up when he mentioned Clara being a Phoenix, and it seemed humans weren't the only ones they left in wonder.
Micca had left first, Jenei wrapped around her body with a spell to reduce her weight, while he had remained behind to tidy the room – and to dust the snake-tracks off of his uniform. The room had been kept relatively undisturbed, only the occasional chair or table out of place from Jenei exploring the many corners before he had arrived.
He smiled, thinking of his new serpent friend. One of the first things Micca had shown him was her own snake Familiar, Asclepius, a small Asian Vine Snake that was always wrapped around Micca's wrist – almost like jewellery. The little, bright turquoise serpent had a remarkably sized personality for one so small, and its bright orange eyes, with their horizontal black slits were remarkably perceptive.
Though, he'd be the first to admit that he struggled to remain serious with Asclepius – the first time he had met her, she had inched out of Micca's sleeve, and the way she had peered at him down her nose made her look as if she were squinting and displeased with him. Even now, with nobody around but himself, he snickered at the memory.
The door opened behind him, and he looked over his shoulder – his left hand stopping half-way through dusting off his chest, while his right flicked his wand into his hand.
Tensions had remained high throughout the school, and more than one student had attempted to corner himself and Neville over the year. The last attempt had been only a week ago, and Harry had hesitated in defending himself – after all, there were six of them, and only himself and Neville.
It had been a short scuffle, and they'd barely managed to get away, but at least he'd broken the nose of the Slytherin ring-leader. That the group had been composed of sixth-year students from all four Houses saddened him.
"Potter." Lilith Kullens said evenly, her arms folded across her chest, her long fingers tapping rhythmically on her uniform sleeves. Harry took a deep breath and regarded her warily – her family were known to have supported Voldemort and were often the most vocal in their demands against the Muggle-born.
"Kullens." He answered, raising a brow slowly. He kept his wand in his hand – he wasn't about to be cursed without defending himself.
"We need to talk." She said, stepping into the room properly and closing the door behind her with an audible click. Her long, dark hair flew wildly about her head as she turned – the thick tresses which were usually tied back neatly were loose and fell to the middle of her back. He didn't even think Daphne's hair was as long.
"So, talk." He replied, walking casually behind one of the tables – at the very least, he could flip it for a quick bit of cover if he needed to.
"You're a Parselmouth." She said, stepping into the room in slow, lazy strides and pursing her lips. "And you just finished with your tutor." The heels of her boots clicked against the flagstone floor.
"I can see why you're a Ravenclaw." Harry snorted, rolling his eyes. "Lilith, the entire school knows I'm a Parselmouth – it's not exactly news."
She said nothing, instead, her dark eyes simply bored into him and her jaw rolled side to side slowly. "You're not behind the attacks."
"Well done." He muttered, throwing his arms out to the side.
"Ruhxu is."
"What did you just say?" He demanded, his eyes snapping to hers instantly. He darted around the table in long strides. His coat remained forgotten on the table where he'd left it at the start of his lesson with Micca, but even without it, his shoulders became tense and the doublet he wore felt constricting and stifling.
Harry stepped so close, he was practically nose-to-nose with the girl – he had to give her credit, for she didn't even so much as bat an eye. His wand flicked to her throat. "How do you know that name?" He hissed, his magic roiling beneath the surface.
"The same way you know it, I would assume." She said, her eyes darting about his face as he stepped back slowly, his wand held steadily before him.
"You're a Parselmouth." He muttered, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His fingers shifted on his wand and he took a slow breath. "You're the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Merlin, no!" Lilith spat, her face scrunching. "I'm just a Parselmouth. I've heard it a few times now, but I only realised when we heard it in the Great Hall at the same time."
"So, why's it taken you so long to mention it? Why not take it to a professor?"
"Get the wand out of my face, and I'll tell you." She scowled.
Harry frowned and ran his tongue over his teeth slowly. "Your family isn't known for playing fair – why should I believe you won't curse me in a heartbeat?"
"Seriously? You know what? Fine." She snapped, flicking her wand into her hand, and tossing it in his direction – he caught it with his free hand, though he maintained his watchful gaze and placed the wand on the table behind him.
He tracked her carefully as she moved through the room, her blue-trimmed coat swishing about her legs as she moved to one of the tables on the far side of the room – a distance they were both keen to maintain. If she lunged to attack him, he would have time to react, and likewise, she wouldn't be caught off-guard if he moved suddenly.
"I know better than most the reputation of my House, Potter." She snipped, hopping up on the table behind her. "I would think you'd know better than to paint an entire family with the same brush."
"House Black is very different to Kullens." He replied, fingering his wand at his side.
"On that, we can agree." She nodded, kicking her feet idly. "When did you know you were a Parselmouth?"
"Why should I tell you?" He asked, chewing on the inside of his lip. "Besides our classes together, and your family's reputation, I don't know you, Lilith."
"Have I ever made any comment about you? Or even laughed at your expense?"
"You haven't, but that doesn't mean shit and you know it."
They were quiet for a time, their eyes locked across the distance between them – he could feel his eyes twitch as he reached out with his magic. She felt wild and chaotic – unpredictable – and that was what worried him the most.
"My family are bastards – each and every one of them." She sighed, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling as she leaned back on her hands atop the desk. She folded her legs and shifted her weight to her left hip. "I hate them."
"That's a strong word."
"Says the orphan boy." She replied, glancing at him with a raised brow. "What do you know about parents beside what you've been told?"
"Careful, Lilith – don't make Draco's mistake." He growled, narrowing his eyes. "I only just got done with those detentions – it'd be a shame to have to start them again."
"You're not nearly as intimidating as you think you are, Potter." Lilith sighed, rolling her eyes. "I know enough about you to know how you'd follow up that threat with a girl." She paused for a moment, and her eyes softened. "Draco was a kind boy, once – whatever spiteful creature it was that you did beat senseless, it had it coming." She sniffed.
"Who says I won't do the same to you?" He challenged, his muscles stiff.
"You do." She scoffed. "You're the honourable sort." She shrugged.
He didn't say anything to that, and just continued to glare at the girl. He shifted against the desk, resting his weight on the wood behind him and folded his arms across his chest, making sure to keep his wand arm on top and ready to react.
"Look – there's no reason why we can't get along." She said after a while, the final rays of the sun making her almond skin appear almost golden for a moment before the last of the sun disappeared.
"In the time you've been in here, you've given me no reason to trust you, and more importantly, you brought up my parents."
"No, I simply reminded you that you don't understand the concept of hating family." She corrected, sitting up and resting her forearms on her knees. "You've no idea what my family are like, Potter – not a clue."
"And you think I'll share things about myself to you just because of that?" He laughed. "Come on Kullens, you should know better than that – you're in Ravenclaw."
"I'm in Ravenclaw, which is why I did my research – as best I can, given that we're stuck in a castle for most of the year." She smirked, sitting up. "I propose a simple trade – information for information."
Harry chuckled and shook his head slowly. "If you think I'll tell you anything about myself for information, you're mad."
"I don't know – you don't know what I know yet. Agree, and I'll tell you everything first – in a show of goodwill."
He pursed his lips and ran his tongue over his teeth again as he eyed her – he had no reason to distrust her other than ambushing him in this room and the reputation of her family. While he agreed her family were bastards, he admittedly knew little about Lilith – in fact, he hadn't even known Lilith existed until he'd first attended Hogwarts, which was rare as far as children of Lords went.
"On one condition – I can refuse to answer, and your information had better be exceptional before I even consider answering in the first place." He said finally, ignoring the triumphant smirk.
"Ruhxu is a Basilisk."
"I know."
"You do?" She frowned, glaring at him. "There's no way you could have known that – I had to dig through fifteen volumes on the Founder's to even get a hint of it!" She cried, throwing her arms in the air.
"You realise I'm friends with Tracey Davis – someone mad on creatures – and Hermione Granger, right?" He snorted, smirking. "Try again."
"How about the fact that it was Hagrid that was expelled and had his wand snapped for opening the Chamber last time?" She replied smugly.
Harry blinked in surprise – he hadn't heard anything about that. The gentle giant that cooed over Clara every time he saw her had been held responsible? It didn't make sense! Hagrid was one of the kindest people he knew within Hogwarts – in fact, outside of Hope and McGonagall, he had made the largest effort to ask after him in class. For that alone, Harry liked him – Clara liked him mostly for how he spoiled her rotten.
"Bullshit." He muttered, shaking his head.
"Oh no, he was accused, all right." Lilith smirked. "Shortly after Myrtle Warren was found dead in the second-floor girl's bathroom – turned in by one of the Slytherin Prefects, if you'd believe it."
"True or not – do you really think this will get me to tell you anything about my experience as a Parseltongue?"
"I think it a fair trade – after all those hours you've spent in the library with your friends, you never once found out about this."
He flicked his wand into its holster and levelled Lilith with a look – he truly wasn't sure what to make of the Ravenclaw. Cornering him in the classroom, she seemed as bold as a Gryffindor, and if what she said about Hagrid was true, she was as resourceful as a Slytherin, and more than earned her place within Ravenclaw.
"You get one question." He said after a time, huffing out a breath as he strummed his fingers against his arms. "If I don't like it, you don't get another one."
"I want to join your Parseltongue tutoring sessions." She said immediately, making him blink. Her words had been louder than any other time she'd spoken, and they had tumbled from her mouth as if she'd been holding them in the entire time. Her shoulders heaved as she gulped in mouthfuls of air.
"You want to what?" He asked, dumbly.
"You heard me, Potter." She answered him – there was a desperate glint to her eyes that he hadn't noticed before, or perhaps, she hadn't allowed him to see it. She hopped off the table and approached him slowly. "Look, you don't know me – that's fine, I understand that. I'm a Kullens, and you're a Potter – you have no reason to trust me – but I hate my family. I want nothing to do with them, and they want nothing to do with me. What do you think they'd do if they found out I was a Parselmouth?"
"From what I know about your father? Groom you to become the next big thing after Voldemort." He grunted, ignoring the way she flinched visibly at the mention of his name. "His own personal Dark Lady."
"I'd rather die." She sniffed, standing taller. She was shorter than Harry – of a similar height to Daphne and Hermione, though her thick hair seemed to add an extra inch in there somewhere. "I want to explore my magic, all of my magic, and become the best witch I possibly can, but I will not become some puppet for that man."
"You realise Parseltongue has no benefit to spells other than casting in a language nobody can understand, right?"
"It doesn't matter – he'll see it as a sign that he can use me for his own ends." Lilith snarled, her fists clenching at her sides. "My brother too."
Harry scratched at his cheek absently as he took her in – gone was the confident, confrontational girl that had appeared in the doorway to the classroom, replaced by the desperate one whose eyes shined with unshed tears. "I can't imagine you just want to join my sessions."
"I swear, that's all I want. I don't want your protection if that's what you think." She replied. "You're powerful Potter, but you're still just a child."
Harry made a noise in the back of his throat and ran his hand through his loose hair. He'd long-since untied it and tucked the leather tie into his coat pocket. He rubbed absently at his scalp near the base of his neck, privately relishing the sensations as he thought over the girl before him.
He pursed his lips; his mind counting the benefits and the potential risks as best he was able. It was true, their families had never gotten along in the past – the Kullens were very much a believer in the old ways of their world, of the subjugation of those they deemed lesser. While House Potter had its own dark and bloody history, they had always held themselves by their honour, and treated those they ruled over fairly.
The two families had clashed in the Wizengamot more than once, and Harry had even found an old journal of some distant cousin that had mentioned punching one of the Kullens some two hundred years ago.
Never before had he heard of someone in that House feel that way about their own blood. The Kullens were a notoriously private family, with little ever escaping their walls about their inner politics – to have Lilith break that tradition in such a spectacular way as she had…
He chewed on his bottom lip before nodding sharply once. "I don't trust you in the slightest, and if this is some trick to injure or threaten either myself, my family, or friends, I'll deal with you myself – is that understood?"
"I understand." Lilith nodded, a tear from each eye slowly tracking their way down her cheeks as she fought to contain her smile. "I-" She tried, only to stop and take a quick breath. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry shrugged and picked her wand up from behind him – he glanced at it a little more closely. It was shorter than his own by a little over an inch, and the obsidian wood resembled the Blackthorn of his own. He handed it to her carefully, his eyes watching her for any sudden movement, his body tense and ready to throw himself to the side if need be.
Lilith nodded at him and pocketed the wand before turning toward the door – he watched her go silently, still not quite sure what to make of her. As the door closed behind her, he shook his head and turned toward the window.
The sun had long-since set, and the evening meal would be in full swing – he clasped his hands at the small of his back, with his legs a shoulder-width apart and closed his eyes, reaching out with his magic to feel his friends. He brushed against them in an attempt to reassure them – he was forceful enough so they would feel him without a doubt, but not so much that they would be worried.
In all, the experience took only a handful of seconds, and when he opened his eyes once again, he swept them across the many lights he could see that dotted the castle grounds. The warm, orange hues of candlelight flickered proudly out of each window, with the full moon sitting high in the sky above the forest.
A light swung lazily back and forth as it emerged from the treeline by Hagrid's hut. In truth, it didn't take him more than a second to make up his mind, and as he spun on the spot, he called for his Phoenix. When she appeared almost instantly, he grinned as he stroked her feathers, and laughed when she nipped at his sleeve.
"Hello girl." He murmured, trailing the backs of his fingers down her neck and along her breast. "I need you to do me a favour before you go hunting – can you do that?"
She cawed softly and stood a little taller, her little chest puffing out proudly as she peered at him down her beak. "I need my cloak – can you get it for me? It's hanging next to my armour."
She spread her wings and tilted her head as she burst into flame, and in a heartbeat, she was gone. Harry stared at the spot she had occupied only moments before as he waited for her to return, only when she did, she was in the air, flapping her wings powerfully with his father's cloak in her talons. He grinned and accepted the cloak from her, offering his thanks as he did.
She didn't wait after that, disappearing in another, final burst of flame, leaving the room feeling that little bit darker and empty. Harry wasn't afraid of the dark – he never had been, after all, what did he have to fear? He was a wolf, and it was in the dark that they prowled.
He threw his coat over his doublet, and then tossed the cloak over his head – the thin material still allowing him to see his surroundings.
Hurrying out the door, he made sure that it clicked quietly behind him – while the meal was still going on, being caught wandering the halls, by Filch in particular, always led to at least one detention – and students were never permitted to leave the main castle at night.
He hurried down to the ground floor, taking the steps two at a time – his coat and cloak both fluttering around his legs as he moved. His wand, he knew, was secured in its holster, and, in the unlikely event that he lost his wand – his dagger was always tucked into his right boot.
It was strange to think that he may need it in the unlikely event that Hagrid was responsible for the attacks – not that he believed it in the slightest, the man was one of the most gentle beings he'd ever had the pleasure to meet. Still, it paid to be prepared.
He left the castle through the main entrance, opening the main door the smallest amount and squeezing through the gap – though just before he fully went through, he paused long enough to glance into the Great Hall, where the meal was in full-swing. He caught sight of Hermione's head of hair, and Neville sat across from her – both laughing happily. From the lack of dark hair, he assumed both Slytherin girls were at their own table.
He passed through the rest of the way with a smile, glad to see his friends enjoying themselves. He made his way down to Hagrid's, crossing the large, rickety covered bridge that covered the path from the castle. The cloak flapped about him in the howling wind, and more than once, he had to throw out a hand to stop it flying away in the breeze.
When he finally made it to the door of the hut – the Whomping Willow had thankfully ignored him on his way down – he could hear the deep barks of Fang through the door, even as the windows rattled in their frames. He knocked twice, heavily, and licked his lips anxiously as he heard Hagrid's heavy footfalls on the other side.
The giant of a man opened the door slowly, a loaded crossbow held steadily in one hand while his dark eyes darted back and forth. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Harry slid the cloak from over his head and looked between the crossbow bolt that was levelled – unintentionally – between his eyes, and the man in the door.
"'Arry? Blimey, scared me half t'death you did! What'yer doin' out 'ere at this time?" Hagrid cried, blinking down at him. He glanced around once more before ushering him into the small abode with a large, meaty hand.
"Any reason for the crossbow?" He asked, warily eyeing the weapon as Hagrid set it in the corner. Fang panted happily as Harry grinned at him, rubbing the large dog between the ears.
"Oh, I was expectin'," Hagrid murmured, only to halt and clear his throat. "Well, I suppose it doesn' mat'er."
Fang's tail thumped against the arm of the large chair he was curled up on, and for the first time since entering, since it was the first time that he'd ever been inside the small hut, Harry allowed his eyes to roam the interior. He'd often wondered how such a large man could fit comfortably in something so small and squat.
All around the room, and even hanging from the ceiling itself, were cages upon cages for all sorts of animals. By one wall, there was a huge pile of firewood for the large hearth that took up the far wall, and a large table and chairs dominated the centre of the room. On the other side of the table, there was a small wall with a large oak door – no doubt Hagrid's bedroom.
"I jus' put on a cup o' tea – want some?" Hagrid offered, lifting the heavy iron pot from the hook by the fire, steam wafting steadily from its spout.
"If it's not too much bother." Harry smiled, balling the cloak up in his arms. "Expecting someone, then?" He asked, pointing to the crossbow as he hopped onto a chair, his feet only just touching the floor.
"Oh, nothin' t'be worried about. Bet'er safe than sorry, 'ey? Wha' brings you out 'ere anyway – shouldn't you be eatin'?"
"I wasn't hungry, but I wanted to ask you something." Harry began, noting the way Hagrid's hands trembled as he poured the tea into the small china cup. He glanced up at Hagrid, who was almost sweating in his nervousness. "What do you know of Myrtle Warren?"
Hagrid's eyes darted to his own, and the large man stumbled back as if he'd been struck. Harry grimaced at the pained look on the man's face.
"Where did you 'ear that name?" Hagrid muttered, his face pale behind his dark hair and thick beard.
"I found it – in a book." He cringed internally at the lie. "It said she was the last person to die in the school, you know, the last time the Chamber was opened."
Hagrid placed the kettle on the floor and slumped into the chair across from him, his face buried in his large hands. "She was a Ravenclaw, an' died in the girl's bathroom, apparently. I felt somethin' awful when I 'eard about tha'. I don't know 'ow he got out – I always made sure the box was locked tight!"
Harry frowned and shifted in his chair. "Who's he?"
"Aragog, o'course!" Hagrid sniffed, running his hands down his face. "'E was tiny back then – just the size of my 'and."
"It wasn't a snake, was it?"
"Wha'? No!" Hagrid blinked, shaking his head furiously. "He's an Acromantula – a spider."
"He's still alive?" Harry gasped, gripping the edge of his seat – Acromantulas were incredibly dangerous, and heavily regulated. It wasn't just their large size that made them dangerous, but their intelligence, thick exoskeleton, and their colonies that could number in the hundreds. Harry didn't consider himself scared of spiders, but the thought of an Acromantula…
Hagrid nodded sullenly. "Aye, livin' in the forest."
Harry glanced at the dark trees through the far window and swallowed nervously. He'd always thought the forest eerie in the moonlight – but now it felt that much more terrifying, for an Acromantula wouldn't think twice about hunting a human. "Hagrid – he didn't kill Myrtle."
The large man stilled and peered at him curiously. "Why would you say tha'?"
"Because I think I know what did, and Aragog would have eaten her if he had." Harry muttered, just loud enough for the Groundskeeper to hear. Harry shivered as he thought he saw a shadow move beyond the trees, though it was likely nothing more than a trick of the moonlight and the wind. "And I don't think you're a Parselmouth either."
"A Parselmouth?" Hagrid gasped, wide-eyed. "Not in my wildes' dreams! Fascinatin' creatures, snakes are."
Harry smiled at the man, who just moments ago had such a dejected and defeated look on his face, who now was smiling in wonder as he stared at the wall distantly, no doubt thinking of all the wonderful things he could ask snakes. "I'm sorry you got blamed for it."
Like someone had flipped a switch, Hagrid returned to the present, and smiled sadly. "Dumbledore ne'er believed Riddle – the lad tha' found me with Aragog – an' hired me after they snapped me wand. Great man, Dumbledore – great man."
"I'm sorry they snapped your wand – I can't imagine having mine snapped." He muttered, his thumb absently trailing up and down his right forearm as he thought about the piece of wood with one of Clara's feathers in it. "It'd be like losing a piece of myself."
Hagrid shrugged. "They let me keep the parts – don' tell no-one, but I used it t'make me umbrella over there – see?" Hagrid grinned impishly, his cheeks turning a deep red as he nodded toward the umbrella propped up against the corner. Harry grinned back at him.
"I won't tell a soul." He promised. "Can you tell me about the Prefect who turned you in?"
"Aye – Tom Riddle was 'is name." Hagrid muttered, a dark look sweeping across his features. "Sixth year Slytherin lad at the time – quiet, an a powerful one to boot. Never heard nowte abou' him after 'e graduated, come ter think of it."
"What do you mean?" Harry frowned, finally taking a sip of his tea. "In a school this large, it's normal to have people fade away – surely."
Hagrid shook his head slowly, his eyes becoming distant again. "Not this one – there was somethin' about 'im. Who knows – maybe You-Know-Who got 'im, or he booked it out of the country."
"What do you mean?"
Hagrid took a deep breath and shifted in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him under his weight. "Yer can always get a sense o' someone by their magic – one of the firs' things they teach. Somethin' about Tom rubbed me wrong the nigh' he found me wi' Aragog – it were like this, honestly." Hagrid said, nodding absently toward the castle through the window. "Students attacked all year, petrified in the 'alls."
"You think Tom knew something?" Harry frowned, tilting his head. Hagrid shook his head and shrugged a shoulder.
"Not a clue – bu', 'e shoulda known tha' an Acromantula doesn't petrify people like tha' – only a-" Hagrid paused, his eyes wide as he jumped out of his chair. "A bloody Basilisk!" He yelled, his chest heaving with each breath.
Harry jumped to his feet and held his hands out to calm the large man down – to the side, Fang barked loudly. "Hagrid, I know it's a Basilisk, but you need to calm down."
"Calm down? Calm down? How am-" Hagrid paused, Harry's words slowly registering with him. "You knew?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Hermione figured it out around the time Colin was found. We've been looking for the Chamber's entrance ever since so we can tell Amelia and the D.M.L.E, otherwise they could be searching for years."
"But-"
"Hagrid," Harry said slowly, placing his hands on the large man's wrists. "I've been hearing it ever since my first detention with Lockhart – it took Hermione to work it out. I thought I was going mad." Harry smiled up at the man when his eyes softened at the mention of Hermione. "I need you to keep it to yourself though – the last thing anyone needs is a panic, don't you think?"
Hagrid was silent for a time, his heavy breathing the only sound in the hut beside the crackling fire. Eventually, he nodded. "Alright, but you promise me that you'll let Dumbledore know the second you find it, y'hear?"
Harry nodded, and scrunched his nose as Hagrid mussed his hair. "Thanks, Hagrid."
"Yer just like your Da' – always gettin' inta mischief. You keep tha' 'Ermione close – she's a smart one, she is." Hagrid paused and glanced around the room. "Basilisk's ain't t'be trifled with, 'Arry – I mean that."
Harry spent some time with the large man after that, and the two of them found themselves discussing far more pleasant topics, until eventually, Hagrid mentioned his favourite resident of Hogwarts – Harry's Phoenix.
He grinned as the Groundskeeper barely refrained from bouncing in his large chair, and even Fang looked to be excited at the mention of her. It had gotten late in any event, and Harry had little desire to walk back to the castle in the dark, especially now knowing there was an Acromantula in the forest – at least with the Basilisk, it would be instant and painless. With one of the large spiders – it could last weeks.
Closing his eyes, he reached out with his Familiar Bond and felt Clara, flying around the mountains on the other side of Hogsmeade – she was alone, and already done with her hunt. Calmly, he called her to him, and not a moment later, the bright flash of light brightened the insides of his eyelids.
Fang barked merrily and hopped off the large chair, while Hagrid called out in delight and clapped his meaty hands together. "Oh, 'ello Clara! Always a pleasure!"
Clara cawed and hopped onto the table, her long, smouldering tailfeathers trailing over the edge neatly. Harry ran his fingers down the feathers on her breast, and she nipped him affectionately on the knuckle of his thumb before nuzzling his cheek.
"Beau'iful," Hagrid murmured. "Can't say how glad I am t'see her, 'Arry."
"You're welcome to see her any time – she likes the steaks you give her in class." Harry grinned, watching as her black eyes darted the large man as her wings twitched. "Sometimes I think she likes you more than me."
"Not above buyin' her affection – 'ere, I had a steak around here earlier." Hagrid muttered, standing up and shuffling over to some cupboards that were recessed into the wall, the clattering of tins and jars filling the small hut for a few seconds before he returned to the table, juicy red steak held victoriously in his hand, wrapped in a white cloth.
Clara hopped forward twice, her head moving this way and that as her eyes tracked the meat. Harry knew her eating habits were demanding – everything he'd learned of Clara suggested she required lots of meat to maintain her strength and health. When Hagrid placed the steak on the table and pulled the cloth back, she tore at the meat with abandon – her sharp talons held it in place while her hooked beak shredded the meat into thin strips that she guzzled quickly, tossing her head back as it disappeared down her gullet.
Watching Clara devour her food had always fascinated Harry – perhaps it was simply because, despite being his Familiar, he still knew so extraordinarily little about them. Even years later, it was still weird to find the gems that she would cough up after a particularly large meal – she'd coughed them up for weeks after their stay at Arpton over the summer.
"Looks like she's enjoying it." Harry smiled slightly, rubbing Fang between the ears as the large dog rested his head in his lap, his eyes looking up at him pitifully. "You hungry, Fang? Is the mean fire-turkey eating all your food?" He cooed softly, running his hand down the back of the dog's neck.
"Fine bird, she is – a big'un too." Hagrid murmured, reaching out and softly stroking Clara's neck as she paused and looked about the room, her black eyes darting this way and that. "When did she last burn?"
"She's never burned ever since she matured." Harry replied evenly, leaning back against the chair. Hagrid blinked and glanced between the Phoenix – who had stood a little taller, and Harry didn't need his bond to feel the pride oozing from her.
"Truly?" Hagrid asked, and Harry simply nodded. "Well – you're a lucky wizard, 'Arry. Very lucky indeed."
"Doesn't feel like that when she's in a mood." He huffed, eyeing the Phoenix, who tilted her head smugly before snatching up the last of the steak. "Woke me up this morning by clipping me with her wings."
"A mischievous one, she is." Hagrid grinned through his beard. "Don't think I 'aven't seen you pickin' on that pathetic rat of Weasley's." He huffed, wagging a finger at the bird. "You know bet'er than to go for someone's Familiar."
"She wouldn't eat it." Harry shrugged. "She's far too fussy an eater for that, aren't you?" He muttered, letting her hop onto his shoulder – she'd taken a shine to his shoulder as a perch when in his room, or in the Common Room this year. Her presence also acted as a deterrent for many of the members of Gryffindor from bothering him and his friends.
Clara's soft trills answered him as she nipped at the top of his ear, making him laugh.
"Glad ter see she makes y'happy, 'Arry. Don' think I didn't notice 'ow down ye were after the attacks began."
Harry shrugged. "Madame Pomfrey gave me something to help with that around Christmas and being with Clara… helps." He sighed, reaching up with a finger and scratching her under the chin. "Hedwig is great, but she's far more delicate than Clara – I'm always worried I'll hurt her."
"Phoenixes are tough." Hagrid nodded solemnly. "Hedwig's just an' owl – a ruddy good one at tha', but just an owl."
"She's taken a shine to Hermione." He commented, glancing at the large man. "I let Hermione use her for classes – didn't seem fair to have two while she had none."
"Aye, they're good t'gether. Rare to 'ave a Familiar accept another witch or wizard handlin' them. Has she taken a shine to anythin'?"
"She keeps mentioning a Kneazle from Magical Menagerie that she met over the Summer – a big ginger one, it was. I was thinking of getting it for Christmas but thought her parents might not like me for that one." Harry shrugged as Fang huffed in his lap and nudged his hand with his nose.
"Best ter check with 'er parents first, lad." Hagrid grinned through his bushy beard. "Come on, you should get back to the school – it's late enough as it is."
Harry nodded and got to his feet as Fang plodded off back to his armchair – it was a little strange standing up and balancing the Phoenix on his shoulder, but after a moment of adjustment, he was fine. Hagrid handed him the cloak, which he'd placed on the table, and Harry smiled appreciatively.
"Thanks, Hagrid." He smiled, looking up at the man, whose cheeks were rosy in the warmth of the hut as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
"Anytime, 'Arry, anytime. Now, you'd best be off – I'll bet curfews called any time now. An' you remember," Hagrid added as Harry rolled the cloak up. "The second you get a whiff of where the entrance is, you go straight to Dumbledore, y'hear?"
"I will." Harry nodded, and not a moment later, he was consumed by the flames of Clara and found himself in his room – it was dark, and only lit by a small handful of candles, but it was his room.
Clara leapt from his shoulder and fluttered to her golden perch, and Harry quickly hung the cloak up next to the stand with his armour, making sure to smooth the creases out as his hands slid down it slowly.
He blinked, turning around and approached the tapestry that hung on his wall – his grandmother beamed up at him, her pearly-white teeth on full display as she looked at him proudly. He felt his heart flutter and a little of the weight he constantly felt on his shoulders wafted away.
His fingers drifted over her portrait, and she closed her eyes and almost leaned into his touch as they drifted over her. He ignored Cassiopeia, and the sneer she shot him, and instead focused on Arcturus.
Something in his chest constricted as the man looked back at him, his face full of pride and his shoulders square and powerful, every inch the man he knew Arcturus had been. Harry touched the picture, and Arcturus placed his hand against the pad of Harry's finger, and in that moment, it felt like the man was across from him once again, gripping his shoulder and offering all the words of encouragement that he could.
It was like he was still alive.
Harry's finger drifted down, ignoring Orion and Walburga, and brushed Sirius – his godfather smirking at him and nodding resolutely. Harry returned the nod and took a deep breath, clearing his throat and sniffing.
The last two months had been difficult, and they'd felt strange in the absence of Arcturus – he spoke to Sirius more through the mirror than by owl these days, checking in each night and reassuring himself that he was still there. It was always in these quiet moments before bed that things came back to him – there were no distractions in his room that were worth his attention, and if there were, it would only serve to cause him grief in the morning.
He sighed and ran his hands down his face as he turned back to the bed, sliding his wand out of its holster and placing it on the bedside table, the handle angled toward the bed for him to quickly grasp if he needed.
It had been a long day, regardless of how he felt about the absence of Arcturus, and in the morning, Wood was bound to be banging on his door at an ungodly hour with the match against Hufflepuff scheduled.
Harry ran his hands down his face as he stepped into the domain of Madame Pomfrey – all around him, the gleaming, sterile surfaces of steel trays and carts glinted in the afternoon sun, and the many, many jars and vials of potions stared back at him.
Many of the beds were occupied, of course, by the victims of Ruhxu, frozen still in shock with expressions of terror on their faces as they stared unblinkingly back at him. At the far end of the room, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers was surrounded by their teammates as they sipped at some concoction that Pomfrey had no doubt ordered them to drink.
He didn't know her name – the Hufflepuff Chaser – but he knew her to be a seventh year, and a devil on the broom. Only an hour before, he'd tried to intercept her plays on the Quidditch Pitch while he hunted for the Snitch – she'd collided with the stands just before the end of the game, avoiding the Bludger from Fred and George, and now here she was.
Gryffindor had tied for the match, and it would likely all come down to the match with Ravenclaw on who left this year with the Quidditch Cup – Oliver had already been making half a hundred different plans to take on the Eagles next term. He'd been a pain in his arse in the lead up to the Hufflepuff game, he didn't want to think how he'd be leading up to that one.
Harry tore his eyes from the huddled Hufflepuff's and focused on one bed in particular. He had showered in the locker room beneath the pitch, and he'd changed out of his gear and into his usual clothes – it was a Saturday, and there was no need for the uniform.
There, with her mouth open in shock but with a firm glint in her eyes, was the form of Professor Cantrill. Her dark hair was loose and framed her head on the pillow, shimmering in its glossiness in the light of the room. Her skin was pale, causing the red of her lips to stand out harshly in contrast – she looked so strange, laying there.
He took up the chair next to her bed and settled in comfortably, flicking open the journal in his hands – it was the book Sirius had gifted him in his first year about the Marauder names. It had felt right, reading some of the scribbled notes between the pranksters to someone that had at least known them in passing. He'd considered bringing his mothers photo collection, but decided against it – after all, he wanted to at least feel like she'd be cheered up and not thrown into despair at the reminder of her lost friend.
He remained there for a while, quietly reading some ideas between James and Remus about Sirius's name, when the quiet click of approaching steps drew his attention. He looked up and nodded at the sight before him – at the foot of the bed was Wesley Williams, Hope's fiancé.
They'd met shortly after the woman was petrified – he'd rushed to the school the moment he'd heard, and for the first few hours, the two of them had sat at her side. Wesley was an accountant and owned a business in Canlams Plaza called Williams and Mattingly, jokingly named for his Beagle Familiar – Harry had seen the pictures of it.
He was a fair man, soft spoken with a wicked sense of humour – it had been no wonder he and Hope had gotten along so well at Hogwarts, and later as adults. Wesley, or Wes, as he preferred to be called, smiled at him, and nodded toward the book in his hands.
"Trying to get her to give you hints for your classes on Monday?" He asked, moving around to the far side of the bed, a small bouquet of red roses in his hand that he quickly placed in the empty vase – he brought them on each visit. They were her favourite, according to Wes.
"She was just about to tell me the secret to dealing with Snape." Harry replied, glancing back at the woman in the bed. "Now you're here, I'll never get her to spill it."
"Damn, you managed to get her to spill the beans on that? I might start thinking she likes you more than me."
Harry snorted as the man sat down and gently cupped her frozen hand, running the pads of his fingers gently across the back of her hand. "I'm pretty sure you have me beat in that field."
Wes flashed him a pearly-white grin, and his eyes crinkled in the corners in a way that made his eyes look darker in the shadow of his brow. "I should hope so – I've only been trying to put a ring on her finger for fifteen years."
He couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest – Wesley was a disarmingly funny man and had a way of putting Harry at ease that he hadn't expected when they first met. He didn't know why, or even when he had adopted the assumption that Accountants were often dull and boring people that played with numbers all day, but the man across from him had quickly squashed that notion.
"Do you mind if I ask how you both met?" Harry asked, placing the book on the bed, and folding his legs as he reclined in the chair. "I don't mean to pry, of course."
Wes pursed his lips and shrugged easily. "I don't mind." He said. "We were in the same year at school – I was a Ravenclaw, and she was a Gryffindor, and very good friends with Lily, your mother."
Harry nodded and wet his lips.
"If you ever tell her this next bit, I'll deny it." Wes smirked and leaned forward on his elbows, and Harry chuckled. "I first noticed her in second year. She thinks I didn't notice her until fourth."
"Who made the first move?" Harry asked, smiling.
"Neither of us, actually." He shrugged. "We got pranked – by your dad, actually. The infamous Marauders, terrors of staff and Slytherins alike."
"What did he do?"
"The two of us got hit with a spell that stuck us both to a wall on our last rounds of the night – I think it was supposed to have been for the Slytherin Prefects, but we ended up taking their route last-minute. Spent the entire night stuck to a wall with nobody to talk to but each other." Wesley shrugged with a chuckle as he rubbed his jaw. "We went to Hogsmeade the next weekend, and I've been chasing after her ever since."
"I'm glad you have each other." Harry smiled. "I'm just sorry she got attacked."
"So am I." Wesley muttered. "I hear her temporary replacement has been a bit of a nightmare."
Harry grimaced, thinking of the man – he was the second son of some Spanish Lord, and walked around with all the confidence that came with it. Many of the girls in the school would giggle as he walked through the halls, his fine robes billowing in his wake. Frankly, Harry thought him arrogant, though he seemed capable.
"Aye – but he seems to know what he's doing." Harry shrugged; at least thankful he hadn't had the option to pick his electives yet – something that wouldn't happen until the end of his third year. "I'm hoping Hope wakes up quickly enough that he's gone soon."
Wesley chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I'll bet – I saw him with his Thunderbird on my way in, down by the edge of the forest."
Harry shuddered.
"You alright there?"
"Just something I learned last night from Hagrid about it, is all." He muttered in reply, wiping his face.
Wesley tilted his head curiously. "You've gone a little pale – I can get the matron, if you'd like?"
Harry waved a hand. "No, no, nothing like that. I just learned about something that lives in there is all."
"Ah, one of those stories, was it? We used to think there was a den of Werewolves in there when I was a kid, and if you stayed out past curfew, they'd snatch you away."
Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "I bet Sirius and my dad loved that story." He snickered, thinking of Moony's reaction to the tale – how many times, he wondered, had they teased him over abducting students?
"I'm sure you get this all the time, but you look just like him – it's uncanny."
"I have my mother's eyes." Harry smiled sadly. "I have a few photos of the three of us together, and it even surprises me."
"They'd be very proud of you, I'm sure – I didn't know them beyond in passing, but from everything I've experienced these few weeks, to what Hope would tell me over the Summer, they'd be very proud of the man you're turning into."
Harry's lips pressed tightly together, and he awkwardly shifted in his seat as he coughed into his fist. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
Harry was simply content to watch Wes after that, as he made sure Hope was comfortable. He fluffed her pillows, adjusted her sheet and arranged her flowers before wandering over to Madame Pomfrey to ask about the treatment she was receiving – not that she could do much more for the professor than make sure she ate, drank, and was comfortable.
Sometimes, Harry couldn't help but think that the Mandrakes were taking a spitefully long time to mature.
He had read up on the potion they were all going to receive, of course. What had surprised him was how simple the potion was in theory – in practice, it was incredibly lucky that the key ingredients were being grown on the school grounds by Professor Sprout.
According to the book, which Hermione had found in, of course, the Library, any sort of magical interference with the harvested Mandrake would nullify the restorative properties – that meant Apparition to bulk order some immediately was out, as there was a very short, limited window between harvesting, and adding them to the potion. Two minutes, in fact. The entire potion would be brewed in the Greenhouses before carefully being transported to the Medical Wing – all by hand.
He sighed as he rubbed at his jaw. If her eyes weren't open, Hope would simply appear as if she were asleep – it was disconcerting. At the very least, she hadn't suffered pain, or even death – the memory of Justin still sat heavily in the hearts of those at Hogwarts.
How long he was left with her alone, he didn't know – the noise had subsided within the room considerably, and when he glanced over his shoulder, the Hufflepuff's were gone. He could hear the quiet murmurs of Wes and Madame Pomfrey coming from the direction of her office – the portrait of Tora smiled at him coquettishly and waved her fingers.
With a long exhale, Harry sunk into the magic around him and closed his eyes. He sank deeply within the currents and ripples of the school – like a lead weight in a pond. The deeper he sank, the more magic he wrapped around himself, like a favourite cloak that warmed him against the cold on a winter's morning.
It was peaceful, entrenched so deeply, and wrapped so securely. In this state, disconnected from his body, he often felt untouchable, and the events of the world felt less concerning to him, though he always made sure that he could find his way back – it wouldn't do for him to become separated from his body, doomed to an existence in the currents of magic and time.
Something in the back of his mind flared, and he could feel his magic react appropriately – there was danger. He slammed back into his body and blinked his eyes open rapidly. The sun was far lower than when it had been, and a number of tiles from the floor of the wing were floating around him, spiralling lazily through the air.
He wrestled his magic under control and got to his feet, his wand slapping into the palm of his hand as his eyes darted about rapidly. Something was wrong, but he couldn't work out what or where.
Stepping out into the main aisle between the rows of beds, he paced slowly, staring at the dark shadows in the corners of the room – in the back of his mind, the feeling continued to gnaw at him, while his magic screamed for him to take action.
He spun on his heel as the doors were thrown open, and his wand was up and levelled before he could register who it was.
He blinked in confusion at the sight of Headmaster Dumbledore, his blue eyes dark behind his half-moon glasses, and his pallor pale – almost matching his white beard and hair. His robes swished around his rapidly moving legs, and half a dozen members of staff followed behind him, all crowded around a dark figure that lay horizontal, floating through the air.
Another victim.
He lowered his wand and was just about to turn back to the reason for his visit, when he caught a glimpse of familiar brown hair.
His step faltered, and his legs buckled beneath him as his stomach lurched painfully. He gripped the bottom of Hope's bed so hard, the metal groaned. His entire body thrummed with magic, and he felt the world dim around him.
Hermione.
Harry stumbled forward, pushing away from the professor's bed, and forced himself between the larger bodies of the staff – he registered McGonagall, Flitwick, Lockhart, Morris – the Professor that taught Warding to the NEWT students – Professor Gillen, a portly, bald man that always smelled of perfume that taught Mind Arts, and Professor Twinkle.
The adults around him whispered harshly between themselves, though he barely paid any attention to their words – he did catch something about being found near the Trophy Room. He stepped up to her side and knelt by the side of the bed – her head was turned to the side, and her hand held a mirror in front of her face.
He felt sick, seeing the wide-eyed stare as she looked through him, and his stomach clenched at the way her mouth hung open, mid-gasp. Her cheeks were pale, looking almost like porcelain, and her hair framed her face on the pillow.
Almost unconsciously, Harry reached out with the fingers of his right hand and gently brushed his knuckles against the back of her hand, hissing at just how cold she felt. Harry had seen corpses in his life, and it terrified him that she looked far too similar to one for his own comfort.
His magic rose up within him again as a fork of crimson energy danced between his fingers. His breathing became heavy, laboured, and it seemed like the entire world around him became razor sharp in its clarity.
No matter how his magic singed the sheet of the bed, or how the staff around him backed up warily – the dark figures in his peripheral vision receding – not a single mark appeared on his friend. He gently twirled a strand of her hair around his index finger and brushed his knuckles across the softness of her cheek. She had half a dozen tiny freckles on her nose – he never noticed before.
A hand grasped his shoulder from behind and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked back, tearing his eyes painfully from Hermione as he looked up at Professor McGonagall – her eyes were shiny, and her skin pale. Her lips were pressed together tightly as she looked down at him.
He stood slowly as his chest began to heave once again. He nodded at McGonagall once before roughly pushing through the rest of the staff – his fingers twitched, and his teeth ground together as he stormed through the Wing to the large doors.
The doors themselves were practically thrown from their hinges as she stepped into the hallway – at the far end, the rest of his friends were running toward him in a full sprint.
"Harry!" Tracey called, panting. "We just heard! Where is she?"
He glanced behind him and nodded toward the domain behind him – the doors swung slowly back and forth and were bowed in the middle from the force of his magic, intended or not.
Neville stepped up to his then and gripped him by the shoulders – his brown eyes meeting Harry's own as something unspoken passed between them.
"I'll kill her." He ground out, his fists trembling at his sides as Neville wrapped his arms around him. Harry wrapped his arms around Neville as his whole body vibrated in his barely contained rage. He glanced at Daphne and Tracey in the ensuing silence, only speaking once he pulled back from Neville. He blinked away the unshed tears. "Ruhxu is as good as dead."
