I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that.
Halloween day was rainy and cold at Hogwarts. It was one of those days when no one seemed able to get warm. Even Professor Flitwick wore a scarf as he began his Charms lesson.
"Good afternoon, class!" Professor Flitwick called out. He was in his usual teaching spot, standing on a stack of books on top of his desk.
"Good afternoon, Professor Flitwick," the class answered.
"Today," Professor Flitwick said, "we will be learning one of the most important spells that you will ever learn. It is absolutely critical to any career in the magical world. It is the general-reversal spell." Professor Flitwick pointed his wand at the blackboard behind him, and a series of diagrams appeared, showing the proper wand movements.
"The incantation," lectured the tiny professor, "is 'finite incantatum,' and I must emphasize how important it is to pronounce that correctly. Now, who can tell me what the general-reversal spell is used for?" Professor Flitwick was pleased with how many hands went up to offer an answer. "Mr. Weasley," he said, selecting Ron.
"It stops any magic effects that are on something," Ron answered, "or somebody."
"Correct," confirmed professor Flitwick. "Take 5 points. If you know exactly what spell you'll be cancelling, and it's a fairly simple one, you can use the shorter version by just using "finite.' If there is any doubt, though, use the full length. I recommend using the full length version at all times, anyway. Correcting an ill thought out shortcut almost always takes far longer than doing things proper to begin with."
Professor Flitwick levitated an assortment of objects to the students desks. There were dancing teacups, snowglobes with blizzards raging inside, rubber balls that were changing colors constantly, and any number of other, similar objects.
"Your task for this class is to cancel the spell on the object now on your desks. I will be going around that classroom reapplying the charms as you remove them. Go ahead and start!"
Professor Flitwick wandered around the room while the students worked. He corrected a few who had reversed the wand movement and were actually enhancing their objects spell to make the situation worse. He came to Harry's desk, where the young Jedi was doing a fine job cancelling the snowstorm in his snowglobe.
"Ahh, Mr. Potter," said Professor Flitwick, "and how are you today?"
"Just fine, Professor," Harry answered back. Flitwick leaned a bit closer so he wouldn't be overheard.
"I wonder if you've worked at all on that experiment we tried last year," he inquired. "Do you remember?" Flitwick was referring to the time he had taught the Padawan how to repair the glass Harry had thrown himself through to get to a duel with Master Amani on time. Harry had demonstrated an unusual ability to almost fly during the descent, and Professor Flitwick was quite intrigued by the possibility.
"I have, a bit," answered Harry. "I can do it for longer than I did before, but it's still pretty tiring."
"Well," said Flitwick, "if you ever need a quiet place to practice, you might consider practicing here. As long as class isn't in session, this classroom is always empty. It might be a good idea to get that flying thing down pat," Flitwick suggested.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "I'll do that."
The Halloween Feast was rather over the top this year. Harry learned from Percy Weasley that Halloween was usually celebrated with far more festive events than the simple feast they had partaken in the previous year. Percy explained that since Harry's first Halloween at Hogwarts also coincided with the ten year anniversary of You-Know-Who's downfall, it had been decided that a simple, more solemn affair would be more appropriate. This year they were doubling up on the fun to make up.
As Harry and his friends entered the Great Hall, they found the place was illuminated by lanterns made from the shells of the giant pumpkins Hagrid had grown. They were the largest pumpkins anyone had ever seen. Each one was able to hold three grown men inside them. Or one Hagrid.
The feast consisted of turkeys, hams, roast beef brisket, and every side dish you could name. The Toad Choir, under the direction of Professor Flitwick performed a concert before the food was delivered, and a group of gnomes had been hired to play live music. Professor Flitwick even got Professor McGonagall to let her hair down long enough to transfigure some leftover ham and turkey bones into a troupe of skeletons that he then charmed to tap dance. Everyone ate more than their fill, including Harry. No one ate more than Ron Weasley, though. Not that anyone tried. Seamus Finnigan was heard loudly proclaiming that Ron was single handedly responsible for half of the dancing skeleton material.
After the Halloween feast, Ron tried to get Harry interested in a game of chess back in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry quite liked the game, but was nowhere near as good as Ron was.
"Sorry, Ron," Harry said. "Master Toma will be on patrol tonight, and he asked me to join him. I'm going to have a nap before we begin. Maybe tomorrow night?"
Ron felt a stab of jealousy pierce him. It was something he'd been fighting against for a long time now, but lately he found himself thinking more and more about how much Harry had and how much he didn't.
Intellectually, Ron knew he had many things Harry had never known, like parents and siblings. Ron also knew the things he had were far more important than the things he lacked. But there was another side of him that he didn't like that wouldn't go away. A small, petty side of him that kept turning the argument around in his head. Harry didn't have to wear second hand clothes and carry second hand books. Harry didn't have to use a second hand wand.
Ron was well aware that this was not Harry's fault, but Ron didn't think that made it Ron's fault, either. In a secret part of his mind that he didn't even want to admit existed, Ron knew he didn't want Harry's money. He would be too proud to take it if it was offered. What he wanted was Harry's life. Or at least one just like it.
It wasn't fair that Harry got to do all the cool things. He got to carry around a lightsaber, and he had a special teacher that let him go out after curfew on patrols. He got to go off and have grand space adventures in the summer. Ron had to make do with low level quidditch with his brothers using past-their-prime apples as bludgers, a muggle basketball for a quaffle, and nothing more than wishes and dreams for a golden snitch.
Ron once again swallowed the hurt and tried not to look too disappointed.
"Sure, Harry," he said. "Maybe tomorrow night."
On patrol that night, Harry and Toma were discussing Harry's classes.
"I'm doing very well in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm not having any problems with Herbology, either, though I'll never be as good as Neville is in that class. I'm not doing as well in History and Astronomy, however."
"What is the problem in those classes?" asked Toma. "I know your interests include history, and you did very well in it last year."
"I am interested in history," Harry said. "I am not interested in a monotone recitation of goblin wars that all sound exactly the same. I honestly think a protocol droid would make a more interesting teacher."
"And astronomy?" Toma asked.
"The teacher and I are having disagreements," Harry said.
"Why am I not surprised," Toma said. "What type of disagreements?"
"The type where she teaches blatantly false information," Harry griped, "and your grade suffers if you try to correct her. Everyone who has grown up outside of this isolated, pureblood island is having trouble, Hermione included. It didn't help matters when Professor Sinistra took points off of me for insisting that black holes are real. She doesn't believe in them." Toma knew Harry well enough to know that wasn't the end of the story.
"What did you tell her?" He asked.
"Nothing too bad," Harry said. "I simply offered to take her to one in person and show her they were real."
"Harry," Toma said, "you are going to have to learn that not everyone is going to want to see the world in the same way you do."
"But the information she's teaching is wrong," Harry protested. "She doesn't believe in anything she can't see through a 70mm antique telescope!"
"It's important to realize that not everyone is going to see the truth as you know it," said Toma. "Some of those people are going to have authority over you."
"So I should just put wrong answers down?" asked Harry, offended at the thought.
"What is more important to you," asked Toma, "changing Professor Sinistra's worldview, or passing her class?" Harry thought about that. "Keep in mind," Toma continued, "that just because you put the words on paper, that does not make them true."
"I don't want to fail the class," Harry said, "but I also don't want to put answers I know are wrong down either. Which should I do?"
"This path has been laid before you," Toma said. "It is not my decision to make."
"You're starting to sound like Master Yoda," Harry said, smiling.
"Thank you," Toma replied. "A higher compliment cannot be…" he abruptly stopped and looked behind him.
"I feel it, too!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his lightsaber.
A sense of immense danger rose in the Force, followed by a wave of fear which washed over Master Jedi and Padawan alike. Both of them were able to turn the fear aside, with Harry finding it more difficult, but still managing to focus.
Two green blades ignited as the Jedi assumed defensive positions. Whatever was approaching was coming fast, if the intensity of the waves of terror was any indication.
Harry and Toma heard a POP from behind them. They swiveled around to see Dobby standing with his hands clutching his tea towel.
"Dobby!" Harry yelled in surprise.
"Dobby tried to warn Harry Potter!" The house elf shrieked. "Dobby is sorry, but he must save Harry Potter!"
"What? No!" Harry cried out, realizing what was about to happen. It was too late to stop the determined elf. Dobby rushed forward and grabbed Harry's leg. With a swirl of wind, the world went black. Harry felt like someone had squeezed him through a hose, and before Harry could blink he appeared in the Gryffindor common room.
A few Seventh years, still up in a late night study session, yelled in fright as Harry and Dobby apparated into the room with a crack like a gunshot.
"Dobby!" Harry yelled. "Take me back!"
"Dobby will not!" The elf sobbed. "Harry Potter must stay safe." The distraught house elf disappeared with another pop, and the older students stared in shock as Harry dashed out of the room.
Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, sifting through requisition forms. It's too bad magic can't vanish paperwork, he mused to himself. At just after midnight, he looked up in alarm as a caterwauling sound pulsed through castle.
Far quicker than his age would indicate, Albus Dumbledore had his wand out and his hand reaching towards his Phoenix. Fawkes knew the drill, and flew at the headmaster, allowing his old friend to grab hold of his tail feathers. In a flash of flame, they were gone.
The headmaster flashed back into existence outside the Gryffindor dormitory, as that was where the wards had pinpointed the exit point of an unauthorized apparition. He caught sight of Professor McGonagall running up the corridor. She had also heard the alarm and was rushing to check on her charges.
They very nearly stunned Harry Potter, who ran out of the portrait hole with his lightsaber blazing. Without waiting to answer questions, the Jedi flung himself over the railing, free falling to the entrance hall seven floors below. Dumbledore and McGonagall stared down at the Jedi in time to watch him perform a forward flip, orienting himself feet down. As he passed the third floor, Harry reached his hand out and let out a blast with the Force that pushed him over to land on the second floor stairway. He took off in a sprint down the same corridor where the creature was last encountered.
"I hate it when he does that," Minerva McGonagall said to Dumbledore, before belatedly realizing that the headmaster was already gone.
As Harry ran down the corridor, he threw all of his senses forward, searching for his master. All of the torch sconces had gone out, leaving the hallway in darkness. He could see the light of his master's lightsaber ahead, and he pushed on. He heard Headmaster Dumbledore calling his name from behind him as the old man tried to keep up. In the tiny corner of his thoughts that was all he was allowing to concentrate on anything but getting to Toma Kendet, he was impressed that the Headmaster was able to keep up with him at all. He was using the Force to enhance his speed, after all.
Staggering to a halt, Harry gaped in horror at the sight before him. Toma Kendet, his Master, his brother, his father, was standing straight and still. His still lit lightsaber was poised as if to strike, but the stroke had not been allowed to be completed. Grabbing one of his master's arms, he tried to pull it down, but it was like trying to reposition a statue. Toma Kendet stared with frozen eyes at the wall at the end the corridor. Something had been painted on the wall in front of him with some sort of acid. In smoking letters that were slowly eating into the surface of the wall spelled out the message: "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened! Enemies of the Heir, Beware!"
The castle was in lockdown again. Toma Kendet had been moved to the hospital wing, where he lay on a bed, with his lightsaber still raised above his head. Harry had been able to turn it off, but was unable to remove it from his Master's clasped hands. The Jedi Padawan was now sleeping in a bed nearby, having been forced to take a dreamless sleep potion by Madam Pomfrey.
"I cannot believe this," exclaimed Minerva McGonagall. "What could have killed him?"
"He is not dead, Professor McGonagall," said Headmaster Dumbledore, examining the Jedi. Professor Lockhart was also leaning over Toma. He had a troubled look on his face as he tried to indent the skin on the Jedi Master's arm, to no effect.
"I concur, Headmaster," the defense professor said. "He has been petrified."
"How?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again," said Dumbledore. Severus Snape entered the hospital wing.
"I have done a preliminary analysis of the substance that was painted on the wall," the potions master said. "It is related to the venom we found in the last encounter, but was much more corrosive. The main component, however, was blood."
"Acid blood?" McGonagall said incredulously.
Lockhart had closed his eyes in concentration, digging up a memory. "This reminds me of something I saw once in India."
"You have seen something like this before?" asked Dumbledore.
"Well, not the acid blood, no," Lockhart admitted. "But the petrifying, that I have seen before. This was, oh, about six or seven years ago," explained Lockhart. "I had been asked by the government of Magical India to go on an expedition over there. A couple of small villages had been wiped out by disease, and there was some concern that a rogue Nundu might have been breaking out of the jungle."
"I'm surprised you didn't write a book about it," snarked Professor Snape. "Natterings with Nundus, or something equally ridiculous."
"Severus," Dumbledore admonished.
"I might have, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued, "had there actually been a Nundu. The deaths were instead caused by an unfortunate outbreak of a rather deadly, but mundane disease. The muggles had the containment well in hand." He turned again to the petrified Jedi laying in a combat pose on the bed. "I am reminded, however, of the frozen village of Damangahr."
"What is this frozen village?" asked Professor Mcgonagall.
"While we were trekking through the jungle in search of the Nundu," explained Lockhart, "my guide told me of a frozen village nearby, which was quite the local mystery. We weren't having any luck finding a Nundu, so we had him lead us there." Lockhart frowned and looked down at Toma again.
"What we found in Damangahr haunts my dreams to this day," Lockhart said, solemnly. "An entire village of people had gathered on the shoreline of a lake, and had been completely turned to stone. The looks of fear frozen on the faces of those children… I don't think I'll ever get over that."
"Since I'm quite sure it only happened in your imagination," accused Snape, "I think you'll be fine."
"Severus," Dumbledore said, more forcefully, "that's enough."
"So," said Snape, "how did this supposedly happen?" He was impatient to get to the heart of the matter.
"You must understand," explained Lockhart, "that the event took place over a hundred years ago, in an out of the way little village in the Indian jungle. But, according to my guide, there was only one survivor. He was an old man who was found alone among the petrified remains of his family and neighbors. He had gone quite insane, so the story says. According to the records I was able to dig up, the survivor claims he was spared because he was ill. He had stayed in bed that morning, trying to rest. A group of children, however, had woken him by loudly shouting out that they had seen a monster in the lake."
"A monster?" interrupted an incredulous Snape.
"That's what he claimed the children said," answered Lockhart. "The village subsisted on fish that they caught in the lake. Either they were going to the lake to fish anyway, or they responded to the children's claims, but the survivor said that the entire village went to the lake as a group. Only he was left behind."
"Why would they all leave at once?" asked Snape, clearly trying to find a hole in the story.
"Damangahr was a very small village," answered Lockhart. "I only counted twenty three of the statues, so it's entirely reasonable that they would go as a group to perform the communal task of fishing."
"What happened then?" asked Professor McGonagall, getting interested in the story in spite of herself.
"The survivor claimed not to know," said Professor Lockhart. "He said they all went to the lake, but none of them ever returned. Eventually, he left to look for them, and found them all at the lake's edge, frozen like statues. He said nothing he could do could revive them. A few days after the event, someone from another village happened by and summoned the authorities. They came to the village and found him talking to the statues, pleading for them to move. They disregarded his claims, charged him with mass murder, and put him in prison for the rest of his life."
"And the Indian government just left the petrified villagers standing frozen on the edge of a lake for all time?" asked Snape, skepticism lacing every syllable.
"You don't have to take my word for it," defended Lockhart. "This is all well documented by independent sources. They turned the village into a memorial and forbid anyone from disturbing it."
"So you, naturally, went waltzing right through it," accused Snape.
"I thought you didn't believe me?" countered Lockhart. "If I didn't actually do it, then your taking offence to it is rather silly, don't you think?"
"We are dealing with an actual problem here!" thundered Snape.
"And as I am attempting to explain, this is a well documented incident of a similar type," responded Lockhart. "It is relevant."
"Enough!" Dumbledore said, sternly. "As it happens, Severus, I have also read of this frozen village, and Gilderoy's account matches the texts I have read." Snape looked mutinous, but held his tongue.
"The account I read was written by a curse breaking team dispatched by Gringotts about seventy five years ago," Dumbledore said. "They were searching for a hidden tomb near that village. I remember it specifically because they actually did find a monster in that lake." Everyone turned to him in surprise. "The tomb was guarded by a basilisk."
"But a basilisk does not petrify it's victims," argued Professor Snape, "it simply kills them."
"I have never examined a basilisk in person," Dumbledore said, "and they are rare and deadly enough that it is likely they have a few undocumented abilities. I would accept that under some circumstances, it might be possible for a basilisk to petrify it's victims instead of killing them."
"If this beast is a basilisk," countered Professor Snape, "and has been hiding in Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, then how could it be moving through the school? By all accounts, basilisks continue to grow for the entirety of their very long lives. One heralding from the days of the founders would be truly enormous. Are you suggesting that a multi-ton serpent whose merest gaze is death has been tiptoeing through the halls of Hogwarts... without detection?"
"I am suggesting, Severus," said Dumbledore with a sigh, "that we not discount theories out of hand just because we do not like them. Can you think of any other means through which anyone could be this thoroughly petrified?"
"I can think of a few potions that could cause a similar effect," answered the potions master, "though I can say for certain none of them were used in this case. There would be telltale conditions that are not present."
"Then if it is not a potion, and it is not a basilisk, then what do you believe it is?" asked Dumbledore.
"It could be an as of yet undiscovered creature, a potion I'm not familiar with, or a spell we've never heard of…" argued Snape.
"In which case," Dumbledore said, his tone indicating this discussion was at an end, "preparing for the most deadly creature that is known to exist will cause us only to be better prepared than we really need to be."
"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said, calming himself. "I apologize for my outburst."
"It's alright, Severus," Dumbledore said. "These are trying times for us all."
"Is there anything we can do for him?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"As it happens, yes," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "I approved a purchase request from Professor Sprout for the acquisition of a grove of infant mandrakes. I understand she is using them for her second year student projects. Once matured, a potion can be made which will restore our guest quite thoroughly."
"I will inform Madam Sprout that she should take over their care immediately," said Professor Snape. "With all due respect to her second years, it is now critical that those plants thrive."
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said. He looked over to Professor Lockhart, who was now examining the frozen Jedi Masters lightsaber, being careful not to touch it. "And thank you, Gilderoy," the headmaster said. "You truly have an astonishing memory."
"Of course, Headmaster," Professor Lockhart said. "I only wish I was able to return him to normal now. Poor Harry is going to be rather distraught when he finds out how long it takes Mandrakes to mature."
"I will be informing the school board of this incident, of course," Dumbledore said. "I will ask for a dose of Mandrake Restorative Draught be purchased. Hopefully we can have him up and about without having to wait for Professor Sprout's plants to grow."
"I'm sure Mister Potter will appreciate that," Professor Lockhart said.
"Let's keep this information to ourselves, for now," the headmaster instructed. "It is illegal to import the plants or the draught without a permit. To be honest, I don't see the Wizengamot approving it for non-wizarding usage. I doubt very much that they will, in fact."
"I don't imagine," Lockhart said, "that young Harry here would adhere to that law at all. As you wish, Headmaster."
"No, he would not," Dumbledore said. "I would not want him to get in trouble with the law, and if his Jedi companion were to be suddenly on his feet far sooner than he otherwise should be, it would certainly be noticed. I would be unable to protect him. I'm afraid that unless the Wizengamot approves the import of the draught, Mister Kendet will have to wait for the mandrakes we have here to mature."
Dumbledore glanced over to the sleeping Harry Potter, and tried to guess how the Jedi Wizard was likely going to respond to his master being taken out of the picture. This would have to be handled carefully.
A/N - I don't normally respond to reviews, (as much as I do appreciate them,) but felt this was the perfect opportunity to use one of my favorite Luke Skywalker lines from The Last Jedi.
Jostanos wrote: And no-one wonders _HOW_ Harry got back to Gryffindor Tower?
Didn't they set up wards and other protections that would alert the staff if _DOBBY_ made an appearance? No? Huh... I must have imagined reading such a detail in a previous chapter.
Me: Amazing, every word in that sentence was wrong.
I never wrote that Dumbledore was told Harry would be patrolling with Toma. I doubt any Jedi Master would put up with being told they can't train their Padawan, and certainly not Toma, who has already threatened to remove Harry from Hogwarts if he doesn't get his way. Also, we never see Dumbledore questioning Harry. We do read that Madam Pomfrey forced him to take dreamless sleep potion, so you're assuming that Dumbledore knows something I never said he knew.
As to the wards and protections to alert the staff if Dobby makes an appearance? As my Gilderoy Lockhart would say, "Tut tut! I see you only skimmed. If you had read the passage properly, you would know that Dumbledore said he'd put additional protections in place when they were discussing Dobby stealing from his office." He said that before he was told about the warning Dobby had given. Immediately before, but nonetheless, before. Also, Dumbledore never said what the additional protections would be, nor that it was solely keyed to Dobby. Finally, there was clearly some kind of detection ward going on, since an alarm did go off when Dobby apparated Harry to Gryffindor Tower.
I did write that Dumbledore would have the house elves keep an eye out for Dobby, but he wasn't in Hogwarts long enough for them to do anything about it before Dumbledore already knew through the wards.
Now, I can see your mind working, and can almost hear you say "But wait a minute! Dobby apparated into Hogwarts to get to Harry first! Why didn't Dumbledore go to the corridor where Harry and Toma were about to be confronted by the creature since that's where Dobby originally apparated to?" Well, to be honest, it's because if he did that, he'd have seen what the creature was and either defeated it or been defeated by it, which would either render this story quite short, or jump the drama up to 11. In the world of my story, however, the reason is because Dumbledore underestimates house elves, much like everyone else. Dumbledore's detection alarm only triggered because Dobby had to expend additional energy to side-along apparate Harry. Dobby's own apparition was subtle enough to stay under the radar.
Please don't take my tone seriously, I actually very much appreciate every single review, especially the ones that help me make this a better story. :)