In the last chapter: Harry goes down into the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny. Down there, he encounters a full-bodied Tom. Tom sicks the Basilisk on Harry, and despite Tom's orders, the snake tries to kill Harry. Harry ends up killed by the Basilisk, but not before getting Tom to promise to not hurt Ginny. When Harry wakes up, Tom's back in the diary and Ginny's awake. They have a heart-to-heart about Ginny's experience over the past year and the two bond. Harry promises Ginny that Tom will be safe with him.
Harry was right to think that Dumbledore had caught wind of the absences and had the entire staff searching the castle for the two missing students. Severus Snape had been walking down the corridor with the bloody message still drying on the wall when Harry and Ginny emerged from the entrance of the chamber via wandless magic on Harry's part. Not wanting the entrance to the chamber to be discovered, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over both he and Ginny as Snape angrily stomped past the bathroom without a second glance.
Harry didn't take off the cloak until they were far enough away that nobody would be able to come close to discovering where the entrance was. Then they were conveniently found by Minerva and Poppy near the grand staircase. Poppy ushered Ginny away to the medical wing immediately, and was only barely dissuaded from dragging Harry along with her when Harry vehemently assured that he was fine and would see her as soon as he was done meeting with Dumbledore, which is where McGonagall was trying to take him at that moment.
The headmaster was waiting for him in his large office, littered with discarded old books and metal trinkets, sipping at a ginger tea. McGonagall left as soon as he was seated, leaving Harry alone with the genial headmaster. Albus didn't waste much time before asking Harry what had happened.
Harry explained coming across the writing on the wall, explained that he had been curious about the diary ever since he'd seen it slipped into Ginny Weasley's cauldron by someone in concealing long robes that day in Diagon Alley. He told a detailed but slightly altered account of the year's events with the diary and discovering a wizard named Tom Riddle and Salazar's Chamber of Secrets. He went through briefly how he had his suspicions about the recent petrification's and where the chamber might be located. Then he went back to that night and how he knew Ginny was in trouble. When he went on to the events inside the chamber, Dumbledore stopped him politely for the first time in his long explanation.
"And how exactly did you get into the chamber, Harry? From what little I know of it, it can only be opened by the 'Heir of Slytherin'?" He inquired non-accusingly. Harry hesitated.
'Tell him. He already knows you're a parselmouth, he had a spy in Little Whinging and they told him about the incident at the Zoo. He just wants to know if you trust him enough to tell him. We haven't done much to gain his trust. This'll help us in the long run.' Death spoke up from over his shoulder, the gentle suggestion deciding Harry's next words. Harry trusted his friend, so he didn't wait much longer to debate it himself.
"I'm not the heir, but I'm a parselmouth, which I suppose is a gift almost exclusive to the Slytherin line and how the chamber is opened. I don't know how or why I am one, but I know I'm not the heir. Such a title would have come up with the rest of my inheritances at Gringotts." Harry answered and Dumbledore only nodded, but Harry could tell he was pleased with the truth.
With that out of the way, Harry continued to explain how he'd come across the scene in the chamber. Tom having taken a temporary physical form, telling Harry that he was the wizard before Voldemort and he needed to drain Ginny of life to give himself a permanent physical body. He told Dumbledore that Tom had sent the Basilisk after Harry to keep him from stopping Tom and that Harry had to transfigure a sword out of a quill in his pocket because he didn't know any spells that would have worked against the snake.
He said that he had read about the Basilisk's armored flesh, so he waited for his chance and then stabbed the Basilisk through the soft pallet inside its mouth and up into its brain. When the snake was dead, he ripped a tooth from its mouth and used it to stab the diary.
Knowing the destructive nature of horcruxes, Harry acted confused as he explained how the diary combusted into golden flames and burned until there was nothing left of both the diary and Tom. That was when Harry and Ginny made their way back up and were discovered by Poppy the school nurse and McGonagall.
By the time Harry finished, the sun had risen, bringing an end to the horribly long night and the start of the day before exams. Dumbledore called Poppy up to escort Harry down to the hospital wing and insisted that Harry take the day off classes to rest and recover. The headmaster had tried to convince Harry to exempt himself from exams, but Harry had refused.
He had already done all of his studying and he did not need to give Professor Snape more reason to think him entitled. He didn't mention the last part, but it was no less true. Harry sighed internally as he walked down to the hospital wing with the tired-looking nurse as his warden behind him. I should really deal with the Snape-situation soon, though. The man is unreasonably-persistent in his hatred against me. Harry thought reluctantly.
How could Harry speak out against a Professor without making the situation worse for himself? He had learned very young that adults listened to other adults, not the disenfranchised child.
Well, those thoughts would have to be left for another time.
Harry had spent the rest of the day in the hospital wing either talking with Ginny, watching the overwhelming nature of her older brothers from the sidelines, or having to endure the fretting and chastisement from his friends. Poppy had chased the visitors off all day, since they were supposed to be in class, but they would eventually sneak back in.
Closer to the end of the day, Harry woke up from a brief nap to find Anthony sitting beside his cot. Ginny was sleeping in the next bed over and the wing was silent as a church. Harry smiled at his friend and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Instead of returning his smile, Anthony took Harry's hand in both of his.
"Harry . . . I know you've always treasured your secrets and that there are things that you can't tell me—I'm your friend, I notice a lot more than you'd think—but you really put yourself in danger this time. I know I couldn't stop you even if I tried, but please, Harry, if you're in trouble or if you're doing something dangerous, tell me! I won't tell on you, you know that, but I can help. You don't have to do everything yourself. Even if all I can do is provide an ear to share the burden, don't feel like you can't lean on me." The earnestness of his face and voice struck Harry oddly thoroughly.
Harry reached out and pulled Anthony half off his chair and into a tight hug. Harry . . . didn't want to leave his friends embrace, he wanted to hide in the folds of Anthony's robes like a child hiding in his mother's skirts. Breathing in the familiar warm scent of his friend, Harry spoke in a whisper.
"Maybe one day . . . I'll tell you, Tony." The half-promise wrapped around them and bond them tight like a thick scarf tied snuggly around both of their necks.
They pulled back and easily slipped into conversation about Quidditch and how the Ravenclaw team won this year against Gryffindor. The conversation was no longer strained and the air around them nothing but comfortable. They had a deep understanding of each other, you see. Harry kept his secrets, but only because he had to, and Anthony kept pulling Harry deeper into the fray of their friendship, but only because Harry needed someone to keep his head above water and Anthony needed Harry to give him a reason to keep kicking his legs and pumping his arms.
Draco and Harry's relationship was different, but no less important. If his and Anthony's friendship was based on an interdependency, then his and Draco's was based on the opposite. Harry and Draco didn't need each other, they simply liked being around each other too much to not be as close as they were. Harry genuinely cared for Draco, and he knows the blonde felt the same, even though Draco would rather bite the end of a wand than admit such a thing out loud.
Harry and Anthony . . . their friendship was symbiotic. They depended on each other. And when it was time, Harry would bring Anthony into his world of secrets and there would be no way out for either of them. Harry understood this. Anthony understood this. It was how things could be so comfortable and natural between them, even though Anthony knew Harry was keeping a lot of things from him, big things.
When Harry attended class again, it was in high spirits. Dumbledore had bought his story, nobody had discovered the chamber or the very-intact-diary, and Ginny bounced back like a rubber-band and slotted seamlessly—aside from a few baffled looks from Draco—into their little group.
Which meant that the twins often visited the Ravenclaw table—much to the other Ravenclaws chagrin—to check in on their little sister and occasionally try to peddle off some pranking supplies to the fresh set of ears. Michael had tried to buy some items from them, but as soon as Anthony piped up about how if he heard of a single one of those pranks being used on Harry he'd be shoving one of those animated fireworks 'you-know-where,' the twins had barred the vile boy from their supplies and Michael had turned paler than Hedwig.
Exams came and went with little fuss—actually, the amount of 'fuss' expressed had been like a competition in the Ravenclaw house. Obviously, there were those that disregarded the integral warning to not be competitive or smug about intelligence, because there seemed to always be battles of wills and wits whenever it came to opportunities to prove one's intellect.
Before exams, some would brag about how little they'd studied because they already knew everything that they could possibly be tested on and wouldn't let it show how stressed they may be because of the upcoming tests. And so, it kind of becomes a competition to see who could appear the most relaxed and care-free before the exam, and then get the highest scores afterward.
Michael was definitely one of those people, as well as Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal. Morag had been completely off Harry's radar over the past year since she had said some awful things about Hermione behind her back at the Hallowe'en feast. Though, Harry had heard a few things from Hermione about Morag being unpleasant and Mandy sometimes taking her side, especially against the first years.
Apparently, there was a particularly odd girl who had come in that year that had agitated Morag's nasty-side, through no fault of her own. Hermione had stood up for her in the instances that she had seen it happen, but the first year had yet to react to Morag's abuse. Harry wasn't sure who the girl was, and he knew that Hermione said she was handling it, but if the harassment carried on in the fall, Harry decided that he would step in. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to, for all their sakes.
The year came to an end and everyone went home, and for the first time, Harry wasn't dreading it. The train ride seemed to go oddly quick, between reading books on unique spells not taught in school, chatting with his friends, and occasionally drifting into a bored slumber, the time it took for the sun to set and for the train to pull into King's Cross Station seemed to pass without any delays.
The smile that Harry greeted Sirius and Remus with was genuine and eager. Remus was the first to embrace Harry, followed by the usual bone-crushing hug Sirius often gifted him. When Sirius eventually pulled back, he ruffled Harry's hair, which had grown out a bit since Christmas, reminding Harry that he had been meaning to get it cut.
"Merlin, you're growing like a weed! What the devil are they putting in your food there! Soon we won't be able to call you our 'little bird' anymore." Sirius fake-mourned with a sorrowful whine. Harry glared up at his godfather.
"You've never been able to call me that!" Harry's voice turned dangerous as his eyes narrowed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the edges of Remus' lips turn up treacherously.
Sirius' brow quirked up at that. "Well, not to your face, obviously." The face-splitting grin that overtook Sirius in that moment almost made Harry feel guilty about the stinging hex he snapped at Sirius' stomach in immediate retribution, almost.
Sirius and Remus escorted their little ward home, teasing each other the whole way but doing it with a rejoicing elation in their hearts at being reunited.
Unlike the previous summer, Harry didn't receive a grace period to fully enjoy the long holiday before his companion set in on his training. While last summer consisted of Hexes, Jinxes, and Charms that could be used to defend oneself, this summer was about Curses and Curse Breaking. Hexes and Jinxes were inherently juvenile, silly really, and were relatively harmless in practice. Curses, on the other hand, were all considered dark magic.
Harry has no inhibitions when it came to learning and using dark magic, but he could see why Death waited a little while longer to delve into that particular caste of magic. No matter, Harry's just glad to be rounding out his catalog of spells. It made him more prepared.
Despite what the general population had come to believe, practicing dark magic didn't effect a person in any irreparable way. It's more generous with the amount of magic it calls on, which can drain a persons' magical reserves to the point that said person could either feel ill or a sort of heady-high that one might experience when holding their breath for too long. But those reserves always replenished themselves with time and care, any change or damage done to a person because of dark magic would be purely psychological and has far more to do with whatever act is facilitated by the curse than the magic itself.
In short, using a curse to cut someone from navel to breast bone would be about just as traumatizing as doing such manually. Magic wasn't inherently bad or dark because of what it's used to do, it's about the act itself.
Curses weren't the only thing Harry started learning as soon as summer began. Apparently, if Harry was ready to learn magic that could be used to harm, control, or kill someone, then he was ready to learn something he didn't even know existed until then. The Language of the Dead.
According to his companion, the language was only taught to the dead, a language so powerful that just speaking it could be considered a form of magic on its own, a whole new type of casting. Many centuries ago, Necromancers could use magic to manipulate the veil and speak to the dead, it didn't take long for the Necromancers to learn the language and use it in the world of the living. Other wizards didn't understand this new form of magic, so they classified it as too dangerous and made the practice of speaking and learning the language illegal and forbidden.
All practitioners were either sentenced to death or had their memories wiped to oblivion. The language was forcibly eradicated and forgotten, while Necromancy—also called soul-magic—became the highest form of taboo in all magical communities. Death had been scorned by the treatment of his language, his magic, so he then refused to aid in any form of bastardized-soul-magic which resulted in the fatal or horribly painful and disfiguring repercussions of using the counter-fit magic.
It explained why the magic was currently so forbidden in wizarding society, and why Voldemort's body and soul had been so mutilated by the magic towards the end of his life. Death explained that if Harry was to learn soul-magic—which would be necessary for deconstructing the horcruxes and getting them back into Voldemort's body—he would first need to understand the language of the dead.
And so, his studies began once again.
However, just because his studies had intensified in comparison to the summer previous, didn't mean that Harry no longer had to keep up appearances. So, he lied to Sirius and Remus and told them he was spending all those hours to himself practicing dueling. During Harry's second year, there had been a dueling club formed by Lockhart and Snape, Draco had joined, but Anthony and Harry opted out—much to Lockhart's disappointment at not having an opportunity to get close to the BWL. Though he didn't partake, they didn't know that.
Harry lied and told them he wasn't actually that good at dueling and he wanted to practice over the summer, because Draco said that he would be practicing as well and Harry didn't want to be 'embarrassed.' It wasn't hard to convince the pair that a twelve-year-old would be petty enough to want to upstage his friends.
Though, to completely abate any of their possible worries, Harry made sure to spend time with them as often and for as long as he could afford. It wasn't like it was any kind of chore, Harry genuinely enjoyed his time with them, but the more he was around them, the more he picked up on their behavior.
At first, it was just the lingering glance on the other when they thought no one was looking, and each smile reached the crinkling eyes and ignited the skin. Then it was the touches. The fleeting brush of a palm against the small of a back as they passed, or the way their hand was instinctually drawn to a shoulder, elbow, or back whenever they're within reaching distance. Also, every time they were in the same room, they migrated closer together until they could be seen as a unit, rather than two separate variables.
Once, Harry even saw them kiss at the door as Sirius rushed to his mind-healer session, which he was late to. It had been chaste and as natural as putting on socks before shoes. Just a simple peck that they had done too often to really think about.
By the time they sat Harry down after dinner one night to explain to him how they were 'more than just friends,' Harry had already figured it out and decided that he really didn't care. In fact, he was relieved. Aside from being glad that they had someone to rely on while Harry was away at school, Harry was pleased to know that they wouldn't be seeking outside entanglements and bringing new people that Harry didn't trust into his life. It sounded rather selfish, even to Harry, but the fewer people involved in Harry's personal life, the better.
Harry wasn't ignorant to the proclivities of adults. With neither Remus nor Sirius married, they were bound to eventually seek . . . pleasures of the flesh. However, when Harry said as much to reassure the pair that he was approving of their relationship and choice in partner, Remus had turned bright crimson and Sirius looked very tired and slightly humored by Remus's stuttering response.
"H-Harry! How do you even know about that! You're too young—"
"Actually, it is quite natural for me to know these things. I am nearly thirteen and I'm already beginning to go through the process of puberty. In the years to come, I will be going through many changes—mentally and physically—and without the proper information, I might end up confused, scared, or even ashamed of matters outside of my control. So yes, I know about sex and sexual encounters, I know about puberty and development. 'Shielding' me from 'adult' subjects will only teach me that my body and sexuality is something to be ashamed of and can lead to very unhealthy behaviors later on in life. I do not need to know anything about you intimate relations, but there is no need for you to pretend it isn't happening." Harry finished speaking and the silence from the stunned adults in front of him stretched on.
Sirius blinked owlishly and leaned over to talk in a quiet voice to Remus. "I feel like we just got the 'sex talk.'" Remus smacked Sirius' leg, but didn't disagree with him.
Harry shrugged off the looks from the others. "I read." He quipped easily, and with that, he got up and left to go make himself some tea with milk and honey.
