12.
Wake, the floaters rumbled. Harry obeyed and his eyes snapped open, though he didn't dare move a muscle. Immediately, he caught sight of a cloaked figure silhouetted by the pale moonlight filtering in through the large windows of the hospital wing. Harry lay on his side facing Draco's bed and he could see the figure placing a hand on Draco's face and the threads of magical energy putting his friend into a magical sleep. As the figure left Draco and approached Harry, he fought to keep his breathing even and shut his eyes again. He knew that energy signature anywhere.
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, gently shaking Harry awake. Harry sprang upright in half faked fear.
"Oh, it's you, Professor," he said in a low whisper, "I thought you were…"
"Everything is alright, my boy," Dumbledore replied as Harry trailed off, "and I know who you thought I was. For your fright to be so far reaching even in the safety of this castle, I am deeply sorry." For a moment, the old man even looked guilty. Harry knew better.
"It wasn't your fault, Professor," Harry muttered shakily, "you couldn't have known." Dumbledore patted Harry's knee and in the moonlight, his eye twinkled.
"I'm sorry I've woken you, dear child. I just thought that in the day's commotion, I might take these quiet hours to finally have a conversation with you. I feel that I owe you an explanation."
Harry drew up his knees and rested his chin there, waiting expectantly for the old man to speak. The floaters rumbled all the while, warning him to be prepared.
"I left you at the Dursley's hoping to give you a normal childhood far away from the troubles of the wizarding world. Following the defeat of Voldemort, the world was in chaos and a great many people meant you harm. What is more, people idolized you and I, a foolish old man, thought you would be spoiled from the fame and sent you away." Dumbledore paused and buried a hand in his beard. "What Vernon did to you, however, I did not anticipate. I never expected him to lay a hand on his own nephew."
Lies, the floaters thundered. Harry agreed and always thought the spirits to be a good judge of character. He remained silent, eyes downcast.
"I can never expect you to return to that house, dear boy, but you must know that I placed you there for your own good. You see, your mother bestowed upon you protection when she died. Your aunt's house was protected by the blood ward resultant of your mother's sacrifice and kept you from harm so long as you called it home."
Harry trembled involuntarily and shut his eyes hard. Dumbledore's hand came to rest on his shoulder and Harry almost believed the touch to be genuinely comforting, but remembered who the hand belonged to and felt sick all over again.
"I don't think-" Harry began, cutting himself off with a thick swallow, "I don't think I could ever call that place home, sir."
"I don't blame you. It came as a shock to me that the Malfoys were kind enough to take you in, however. They have treated you well?"
"They have, sir," Harry said, calming down a bit. "They treat me like real family. I don't care what people say about Mr. Malfoy. He's been kinder to me than my own blood."
"I must warn you, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking unpersuaded by Harry's testimony, "that Lucius was involved with the dark lord at the height of his power. Perhaps you can be persuaded to take up residence with the Weasleys?" Here, the truth was out.
"Mr. Malfoy isn't like that anymore," Harry said, aiming for naivety, "and Snape used to work for him too, didn't he? People can change. I like the Weasleys, I really do, but the Malfoys are family to me now."
"Harry, sometimes people say things and don't truly mean them. Even if the Malfoys treat you well and tell you they love you, they once sided with the man who wished you harm." Harry supposed he saw the point in that, but he wanted to decide for himself where the Malfoys stood.
"But Professor," Harry persisted, "we're really blood related. Besides, you said that my mother's sacrifice protected me wherever I considered home to be. Well, it's Malfoy Manor now." Dumbledore was taken aback and narrowed his eyes, looking searchingly at Harry, one hand still working through his prodigious beard.
"I see you care a great deal for your new family, Harry," he said at last, almost begrudgingly, "and while I do still hope you'll be careful around the Malfoys' associates, I'm happy you haven't turned to hate after what your uncle did to you." Harry didn't respond to that. Dumbledore spent a few more idle moments patting Harry's knee and stroking his beard contemplatively and Harry fought the urge to assault the old man with questions. Why hadn't he sent someone, anyone to check up on him with customary visits? Why the blocks on his powers? Why encourage his uncle to hurt him? What did he have to gain? What was he playing at, visiting at night to put on a show of affection? These questions, Harry barely contained with caution like a river being held back by a dam made of mud and sticks.
Hold your tongue, young one, the floaters chanted like a mantra, for the old one must not know of you discontent or your anger. Keep your feelings hidden and you will be safe. Again, Harry obeyed and waited. He looked up, however, and found Dumbledore looking straight into his eyes and a probe grazing lightly over his thoughts. Harry was ready for it and he let Dumbledore into his mind, letting him read his affection for the Malfoys, mundane things about school, and his anxieties over the thing that lurked the halls. Everything else, everything important, he locked away under the strongest shields he could muster. Dumbledore pulled away looking satisfied and Harry knew the ruse worked. Pretending to fall asleep shortly after, Harry could hear the alarmed sounds of McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey bringing someone else into the hospital wing. Harry cracked one eye open and felt aching shock and grief grip his heart. It was Collin, petrified with his camera still clutched in his arms. As soon as Dumbledore and the other professors had gone, he flung himself from the bed to Collin's side.
Fear not, for he is alive, the floaters said, sensing his anxieties, he is petrified, a death-like state that is reversible. Look into his soul and use your power to free him. Harry's breathing evened and he looked closer at the boy lying in a cramped position on the bed. The Collin's soul was still firmly attached to his body in the living plane, but in the astral plane, he could see that it was being locked in place by a malignant magical energy signature. Harry prodded the coil and wrenched it from Collin's soul. The thing writhed against the unexpected force and burst after it lost its grasp on Collin's life force. Collin was at once free again and he started violently on the bed.
"Collin! Thank goodness you're alive," Harry said, grasping Collin's shoulders to calm him down. Relief washed over him along with a rush of fondness for his would be stalker. "You're okay now, Collin. Just breathe. That's right, breathe. I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey." He left Collin sputtering on the bed and shuffled rapidly to Madam Pomfrey's office in the back of the hospital wing. The old woman emerged in her nightgown and found Collin awake and moving again. The only explanation for his miraculous recovery she could offer was just as it sounds-a miracle. Harry eagerly agreed that it was indeed a miracle and shuffled back into bed, keeping his eyes on Collin until his heavy eyelids finally closed.
As Christmas creeped closer, Hermione's potion looked closer to disgusting completion. Harry spied the lumpy contents of her cauldron and winced, imagining that the stew of unwholesome ingredients tasted as bad as it smelled. Their study group collectively decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas to see their plan through.
"Don't worry about Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, as Hermione proposed something about cakes and sleeping draught, "I'll just instruct them to wait for me in a broom cupboard. No, really. They'll do it if I ask. I don't get why either."
Hermione made a face and rolled her eyes. She disillusioned the cauldron and packed her things. "We better get to dueling club."
"They're bonkers for letting Lockhart sponsor that club," Ron exclaimed as he lurched to his feet. "I haven't seen him cast anything since he's been here."
"I have," Blaise said, scoffing, "and I can tell you he's no better at simple charms than you, Weasley. That chair you blew up in charms was just bad aim. Lockhart can't even manage to blow things up on accident."
"Yeah," Ron agreed, missing the insult, "and I have a busted wand!"
"Harry, you coming?" Draco asked impatiently. Dueling club had him bouncing eagerly on his heels.
"Yeah yeah, hold on," Harry replied. "I just need to actually use the bathroom in here for once. You lot go on ahead." He waved them off. As soon as the door shut, he turned and called out to the empty bathroom.
"Hey Myrtle? Can I talk to you for a minute? I know you're here. You're always here." Myrtle emerged from the wall behind him, giggling.
"Why Harry," she cooed, "this is the first time you've ever called out to me. You reconsidering my request that you let me watch you bathe?"
"No, Myrtle," he chuckled, "I just wanted to ask you a few things." Harry wandlessly conjured a chair to perch on in a show of power that made Myrtle's grin falter a little. The ghost hovered closer to the ground, suddenly wary of Harry's tone. Harry was calm and devoid of the usual squeamishness that accompanied having a conversation with Myrtle.
"How did you die, Myrtle? Did it have something to do with the Chamber? I know you hang around us for the sole reason that we're poking our heads into this Chamber business." Harry followed Myrtle with his eyes as she fidgeted.
"That's very rude of you to ask, Harry. A ghost's death is her own business." She paused, as if debating something in her head. "I suppose I can tell you since you're so cute. I died here in this very spot after seeing this giant yellow eye. And yes, I guess I did die the last time the Chamber was opened. I thought that this time, maybe one of you might die too and I'd have a playmate to spend eternity with."
"Was this eye attached to anything? Do you remember anything else at all?" Harry locked his fingers together and leaned his chin on his knuckles, smiling sweetly at Myrtle. His eyes followed her as she fidgeted. Ghosts were tricky to sort out even with the Sight. Myrtle's swath of magical energy was always moving like spun sugar, but when he concentrated, he could see the murky malignant energy signature that followed her to the grave. It was the same sort that clung to Collin's soul, only much larger and much angrier.
"I don't remember!" Myrtle stomped her foot and while it made no noise, her outburst caused a toilet across from her to explode. Harry didn't flinch and merely flicked a finger to cast a shield charm over his head to deflect the water. Myrtle tensed and slowly backed away, almost forgetting that she was a ghost.
"You've been holding back, Harry," she said, winking at him.
"Well I've just decided that as long as we're being truthful here, I might as well lay all my cards on the table. You wouldn't lie to me, so I won't lie to you." Harry leaned back into his chair, waiting patiently. Myrtle huffed and crossed her arms.
"If you must know, I followed someone in here because I heard crying and I saw a huge yellow eye in a huge snake's head by those sinks before poof, I was dead." Myrtle huffed again resignedly and muttered, "I've been here ever since in this wretched place."
Harry tapped a finger to his lips in thought. "How old did you say you were Myrtle?"
Myrtle narrowed her eyes and responded. "I'll be 14 forever if that's what you're asking. I've been a ghost for oh-say fifty years give or take. People stop counting after you die." Harry rose and banished his chair.
"Myrtle, how would you like to be done with this whole ghost business? What's keeping you here? Obviously, you don't like being stuck here."
Myrtle scoffed and threw her head back. "You think I want to stay? I've tried everything to cross over. I've even annoyed the staff enough that they've tried having me exorcised. The most that ever got me was a mild headache."
Harry closed his eyes, unsure of exactly how he was going to do this. Look into her soul and take the evil away. Take the pain away and ease her into the afterlife. You were born to do this. Feel what is right. He reached out with one hand and felt Myrtle's soul as if he could feel it, cold, yet pulsing with the potential for life.
"What are you doing, Harry? I can feel something. I shouldn't feel anything. I'm a ghost," Myrtle asked, trembling.
"I'm letting you go home, Myrtle," he said, opening his eyes, "I can make all of the pain go away, Myrtle, on the condition that you help me." Myrtle gasped and she knew his words to be true. She trembled and cried as she nodded her head.
"I will, I will. Oh, I've wanted this horrible, endless life to end for so long. I watched my parents die knowing that I could never be with them again. I'll do anything you ask. What would you have of me?" Myrtle's figure crumpled in on itself as she fell to her knees. Harry squatted to be level with her.
"Oh, Myrtle," he sighed, "You don't need to do anything. I'll take care of you. This won't hurt a bit." She nodded and Harry closed his eyes again, seeing her only in the astral plane. He found her soul and ripped out the malignant thing that killed her in the first place. Myrtle whimpered and shivered as the black presence dissolved from her form in a miasmic cloud. Harry mended the rest of her soul and when it was whole and smooth again, he pushed it away to the part of the astral plane he knew he could never enter as a living being. He opened his eyes and Myrtle the ghost was gone and in his hand floated a wispy sliver of quicksilver he knew to be a memory.
"Find whatever did this to me, Harry, and thank you." Myrtle's last words rushed by Harry's ears and suddenly, he was well and truly alone in that bathroom. Harry stood and pulled a vial from his bag, guiding the memory into it with his wand. You've done well, child, the floaters whispered to him, and your power with the dead grows by the day. Harry smiled at their praise. "She's with you, then?"
She is. She was and always has been. We are one and she has been with us all along just as you are even as you breathe.
Harry shook his head, still not quite understanding what that meant.
"I am Legion, for we are many," he chuckled to himself.
That is true as it has been said of us since before man understood death.
"Well Legion, I'm late for dueling club," Harry said, finally leaving the bathroom behind.
Harry emerged in the Great Hall just in time to hear Snape shut down another one of Lockhart's boasting speeches.
"For the last time, the students don't want to hear how shiny your teeth are in comparison with the night's sky, you dolt!" Snape paused for breath and fixed his gaze on Harry.
"Potter! Come here. I need you to demonstrate a proper dueler's stance for your peers. I'm sure Professor Lockhart would agree with me when I say students will learn better watching one of their own." Harry sighed and acquiesced, dropping his bag on the floor by the dueling platform.
"Would anyone care to be Mr. Potter's opponent?" Professor Lockhart asked, trying to look useful.
"I'll do it," Draco shouted, as he made his way to the platform through the throng of students in his way. Harry shot an amused glance Draco's way as they bowed and assumed their stances. Snape pointed out their raised arms and posture as well as the placement of their feet before allowing them to continue with the duel. Harry shot fairly basic curses at Draco, who complied.
"Notice that since we are indeed in an academic setting, duels do not need to be overtly forceful or harmful to either participant," Snape called out didactically over their casting.
"Duels can also include seconds," Lockhart said, showing some of his minimal understanding of dueling.
"The purpose of this club," Snape continued, ignoring Lockhart, "is to help you all practice your defense spell repertoire in practical use. While we are no longer at war, it is still important that you learn to protect yourself and learn to use your magic responsibly. The wand is as much a weapon as it is your commonplace tool." Snape allowed the class to observe Harry and Draco duel at an easy pace, generally one spell at a time followed by a dodging demonstration.
"Boys," Snape called after five minutes, "show us what you've learned over the summer." Both of them grinned and launched into a much faster paced duel. Harry moved first, firing off two curses, a full body bind and an expelliarmus. Draco dodged one and deflected to other and shot two of his own curses at Harry, who rolled out of the way. The casting sped up rapidly and soon, both boys were panting from the exertion. After a numbing hex seemed to hit one of Draco's leg, he lost some of his composure and a spell misfired.
"Serpensortia!" The spell flew from his lips before he could even think about it and an irate snake flew from the tip of his wand onto the stage. Harry lowered his wand and looked quizzically at Draco, who shrugged his shoulders. The viper that Draco summoned weaved erratically on the floor and avoided Draco's attempts to banish it. Lockhart pulled out his own wand and Harry had to dodge one of Lockhart's own misfired spells. The snake, incensed by Lockhart's casting, struck out as if to attack the nearest student. Harry hissed to tell the snake to stop without thinking and the Great Hall froze. He knelt to pick up the snake and hissed at it quietly to calm it down. The boy he saved glared at him as the whole hall started muttering to themselves.
"What the bloody hell was that? Parseltongue? So you're Slytherin's heir?" The boy spat at Harry and looked disgusted.
"Oy Justin Finch-my-last-name's-too-long-Fletchly," Draco spat, coming to Harry's defense, "Potter just saved your sorry hide, so you'd better be thanking him instead of throwing around baseless accusations."
"You would know, wouldn't you, filthy Slytherin trash," Justin bit back, defensively. Some of his friends joined in and agreed with him. "If he isn't the heir, then explain how he knows Parseltongue?"
"Mr. Finch-Fletchly," Snape cut in, holding Draco back, "None of that language here. Twenty points from Hufflepuff. I am aware of Mr. Potter's abilities and I have examined it closely. It is likely a side effect of being hit with the killing curse as an infant. The Chamber is not real, Slytherin has no heirs, and all of you will stop with this nonsense this instant!"
"I don't believe that for a second," Justin persisted, "how do we know what you're saying is true? How do we know the killing curse caused it?"
"Well, the next time you save the wizarding world and survive getting hit with the killing curse cast by the only living parselmouth of this age, let us know," Draco spat, shrugging off Snape's hold. He took a stunned Harry by the arm and lead him off the stage. Harry shook himself and asked the snake where it came from before handing it off to a perturbed Lockhart with instructions to send it to some rainforest in Brazil. He ignored the looks the other students shot his way as he left the hall with Draco.
"I'm so sorry that happened, Harry," Draco said frantically after finally obtaining some privacy outside. Harry leant against one of the stone columns in the sundial garden with his head in his hands. Draco, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Neville, and Blaise formed a tight, protective half circle around him.
"No, it wasn't your fault," he said, shaking his head. "It would have happened eventually. I just can't believe so many people would react like that. I mean, I know parseltongue's dark and all, but to think that they would even think that I could do those awful things to Mrs. Norris and then Collin-"
"Nobody believed that prat, Harry," Draco said, "and I defended you because I know you didn't do anything he's accusing you of."
"We don't believe any of it either Harry," Hermione said gently, "and the school knows it's rubbish. He's just scared. We all are."
"If I were you, I would have cursed Justin into the next century," Pansy said, crossing her arms. "I admire your restraint."
"Thanks for your reassurances," Harry said, pushing himself from the column and gathering his things, "but I would prefer that the school didn't think I was some murderous psychopath. The sooner the polyjuice potion is done, the better." The rest of the group agreed with him heartily and they made their way to the greenhouses for Herbology.