HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Only one day late. So my taxes were only half the ordeal I thought they'd be. :) Enjoy.
CHAPTER 34: A New Year Begins
3 January 1993
The Hogwarts Express
Blaise Zabini sat alone in his compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express reading a book while occasionally reaching into a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans and hoping he didn't pull out one that tasted of earwax. Harry and Neville were returning to Hogwarts via Floo, while Theo had remained there for Christmas. So among the Hogwarts Second Years who he actually considered friends, that left only...
"Ah Blaise!" said Hermione brightly as she stepped into the compartment with a flourish. "Here you are. I've been looking for ages."
"No you haven't," he replied without looking up from his book. "We left the station less than five minutes ago."
"Well, it felt like ages." She crooked her head to study the cover of Blaise's book. "Hmm. Lords and Ladies by Terry Pratchett. You do realize that that's a Muggle fantasy novel and not a primer on Wizengamot etiquette, right?"
He glanced up and favored the girl with what she might have considered a sneer if she hadn't understood the affection behind it. "Naturally, Hermione. The fact that I got it from Barnes & Noble in Manhattan was my first clue. What? Can't a wizard show appreciation for a good Muggle book?"
"Not as a rule, no, though I'm please to see you are an exception." With that, she turned her back on him and erected a privacy charm.
"Really, Hermione? You're afraid that some Pureblood book critic will find out that I'm reading Terry Pratchett and cause problems? Surely Pureblood bigotry isn't that bad!"
She ignored Blaise's humor and sat down opposite him. "I want to talk about Harry's Parseltongue."
He snorted softly. "I think you mean Jim's Parseltongue. Harry doesn't talk to snakes, Hermione, he just wears them as insignia like the rest of our House."
"See, what's interesting, Blaise, is that your immediate response to a simple vague statement like 'I want to talk about Harry's Parseltongue' is a categorical denial rather than just saying 'whatever do you mean, Hermione?' You know, the way someone would respond if they had no idea that Harry was a Parselmouth. Very suggestive, that." Blaise frowned at her, but she continued before he could say anything. "But anyway, that's not important now. Whether Harry is a Parselmouth or not, he would never feel comfortable talking with me in part because he knows I'm not an Occlumens and anything he tells me might be gotten out of me with Legilimency. So, my font of all knowledge about Slytherin secret keeping, how do I become an Occlumens?"
He frowned even more deeply and set the latest book about Granny Weatherwax aside. "Hermione, becoming an Occlumens is potentially very dangerous. Harry and Jim are both trying to learn it because they've both learned secrets they shouldn't have and don't want to be memory-wiped. Your ... suspicions about Harry being a Parselmouth – which probably half the school shares whether he is or not – are not a good reason for you to rewire your brain!"
"Really, Blaise? And what secrets did you have at the age of eight that led you to do that very thing?"
"Obviously," he said through gritted teeth, "I can't tell you because they're personal enough to protect with Occlumency."
"Of course not. Because I'm not an Occlumens and you couldn't trust me to keep your secrets."
"No, because they're personal!"
"All of them, Blaise? You don't have any secrets you would be willing to share with me if you knew my mind was protected?" He didn't answer. "Anyway, I've already had one Dark Lord rifling through my brain and I don't wish to repeat the experience whether I hold any of your or Harry's secrets or not. I do have my own secrets, you know."
He crooked an eyebrow at her.
"Well, someday I'll have secrets that I want to keep at all costs. Probably."
Blaise crooked his eyebrow even higher. She sighed in exasperation.
"Look, I want to do this. If you think Occlumency is something I should avoid despite its obvious value, make your case. You may not think much of Gryffindors in general, but you know I'm reasonable."
He laughed. "For some definitions of reasonable, I suppose." He took a deep breath and exhaled as he thought through the possible ramifications. Truth be told, Hermione was someone whose intelligence and rationality he respected, and it would be nice to be able to confide in her at least a few of the things he couldn't share with anyone else.
"Alright, here's the basics. Occlumency is the art of organizing and controlling your own mind. The basic art involves the ability to detect intrusive psychic attacks and defend against them. Those who study the art generally organize it into a seven-level tree, and at each level there are ancillary powers and effects that branch of from the basic defensive power to provide other benefits. A level one Occlumens gains a photographic memory. A level two can suppress his emotions no matter what the trigger. A level three can choose what emotions to feel in response to any situation and can also recognize when he's acting out of emotion rather than rationality. The powers get more esoteric after that. It's not actually necessary to rise above level one if all you want to do is keep a Legilimens from reading you – you can just practice the level one exercises for a long time until they're completely ingrained and that will keep out all but the most skilled Legilimens. But mastering the higher level secondary powers will cause your psychic shields to grow more quickly if you don't stumble into any of the pitfalls of the higher level powers. For example, level two lets you suppress your emotions, but you can misuse and abuse that power. Let's say you're deeply in love with someone who breaks your heart. You might make the spur-of-the-moment decision to simply never feel love again. And if you impulsively strip yourself of the ability to feel love, you will likely never turn that emotion back on again of your own free will. It would take a Mind Healer going in with Legilimency and performing psychic surgery to reactivate those emotional connections. And it's like that with all the emotions. Turn off your fear response and you become insanely reckless. Turn off your anger response and you become robotic in your interactions with others. It really can be terribly dangerous, Hermione, which is why I'm very glad I had multiple tutors. You probably won't have access to such tutoring and will be on your own. You know, like Jim was when he almost let Rookwood's book turn him into a psychopath."
She nodded seriously. "But you will help me get started? I promise to be careful, and if you and Harry can help me find a tutor, I'll do whatever he or she says."
Blaise rubbed his forehead. "Alright. On your own head be it. Let me talk to Harry tonight, and I'll let you know what I've decided in a day or so."
She smiled eagerly.
Hogwarts
Late that afternoon ...
Harry, Jim, and Neville stepped through the Floo back into the Headmaster's Office promptly at five o'clock, where Dumbledore was on hand to welcome them before sending them on their way to stash their luggage before the evening's feast.
"Oh, and Harry?" he called out just as the boys reached the door. "I am free to review your Occlumency shields this evening after dinner if that is acceptable."
"Yes sir," Harry replied. "I'm looking forward to it."
The Headmaster nodded. "Jim, Professor McGonagall will provide you with a weekly schedule for your Occlumency lessons with me."
Jim nodded with a smile, as he was looking forward to actual Occlumency tutoring instead of self-study (and particularly, self-study from a dark textbook). The three boys left the Headmaster's office, with Neville and Jim heading to Gryffindor Tower to put their luggage away. Happy to be away from the tension of Potter Manor, Jim's good mood lasted all the way to the second floor of the tower where their rooms were supposed to be. Then, he stopped suddenly on the landing in surprise. Where there had previously been a single door with a sign saying "Second Years," there were now two doors about fifteen feet apart. One had his and Neville's names on them while the others were for Dean, Seamus and Ron. Neville frowned and shook his head before walking past Jim into their new room. Once inside, it was clear that someone had simply rearranged the furniture and then conjured a large brick wall dividing the old dorm room in half before transfiguring a second door.
"Oh well," said Neville trying cheer the other boy up. "Look on the bright side. At least we won't have to listen to Ron snore all night."
Meanwhile in the Slytherin Dungeon
Harry had just dropped his trunk off in his dorm room when Theo and Marcus both entered.
"Harry, do you have a minute to talk?" Theo said. "Downstairs in ... the room?" Marcus simply stood behind Theo with his arms crossed.
"Of course," said Harry, intrigued by their demeanor. Minutes later, they were all three down in the Prince's Lair. Upon entering, Harry hissed a few words to the Hydra which to his disappointment still did not answer. He sighed and then turned to the other two.
"So, what's up?" he asked.
Theo and Marcus looked at one another. "First of all," the prefect began, "did you get our Christmas presents?"
"Two copies of Beedle the Bard? Yeah, I did. I have yet to figure out why it's so popular that each of you would send me one."
"Well," began Theo, "we didn't mean to each send you a copy. That was ... bad planning on our part. But that's not important now. Did you read the story that we both had bookmarked?"
"Yes. The Tale of the Tree Brothers. Very moving though a bit below my grade level. Now what's this about?"
"It's about Blaise Zabini," said Marcus abruptly. Harry stiffened his back.
"What about him?"
"Harry," Theo said quietly, "that day last term when you had the Occlumency seizure – how much do you remember about it?"
"Not much. I remember thinking that my Parseltongue was gone and then ... I dunno, everything went black."
"You had a seizure because your Occlumency shields buckled. And to help you restore them, Blaise used Legilimency on you to forge a temporary psychic link so that he could support your shields with his own. And when you came back out of it, you asked Blaise about 'the Deathly Hallows' before passing out. Do you remember any of that?"
"Um, not really. What's a Deathly Hallow?"
Marcus huffed in annoyance. "The magical items that Death gave the Three Brothers in the story, Potter! Try to keep up!"
"Sorry!" he replied somewhat indignantly. "I didn't grow up reading wizarding fairy tales. Now kindly get to the point."
"Harry," Theo said firmly. "There are a lot of wizards and witches who think the Deathly Hallows are real. Some of those wizards and witches have ... weird ideas about the Deathly Hallows. And a few have extremely weird ideas about them."
"What sort of ideas?" Harry replied in a cautious tone.
"Depends on which weirdo you're talking to," said Flint. "Worst case scenario? Grindelwald was big on finding and mastering the Deathly Hallows." With that, he whipped out his wand and began drawing flaming marks in the air. A triangle, then a circle, then a vertical line.
"These marks make up the Sign of the Deathly Hallows. Sometimes, they're arranged differently. Maybe the triangle is outside the circle or inside it or maybe the line is horizontal instead of vertical. But it's always a line for the Elder Wand, a circle for the Resurrection Stone, and a triangle for the Cloak of Death." Marcus flicked his wand, and the three symbols merged with the triangle on the outside and the line bisecting the circle from top to bottom. "This arrangement was the insignia of Grindelwald's armies."
Harry nodded. "Noted. So when do we get to the part where this is relevant to me?"
Theo frowned. "Man, Christmas at the Potters has made you cranky! It's relevant because you're the Potter Heir, and if you stay the Potter Heir, you will eventually inherit, among other things, a certain invisibility cloak that is the only such cloak I know of that's lasted more than a century without losing its enchantments. In fact, according to some stories, that same invisibility cloak has been in your family since the founding of the Wizengamot if not longer, whereas the typical invisibility cloak available for sale today will wear out after a decade or two at most."
Harry stood open-mouthed for several seconds. "You think the Potter Cloak – the one that my idiot father gave to my idiot brother so that he could use it for pranks, and that my idiot brother subsequently allowed to be stolen – is the legendary Cloak of Death?!"
Theo and Marcus looked to one another, before Marcus spoke. "Let's just say it's a possibility, especially since it kinda widens up the list of suspects for who might have stolen the Cloak from Junior if it's, you know, an object of worship for some people. And let's also say that Theo and I are ... concerned about how Blaise Zabini abruptly decided to glom onto you back when you were a firstie now that we know the Hallows are something he seems to think about a lot and especially connection with you. It's potentially ... sinister."
Before Harry could respond to Flint's odd conspiracy theory, the door to the Lair began to open. Marcus dispelled the flaming symbols he'd created just as Blaise Zabini himself stepped through. He stopped suddenly as the other three boys stared at him.
"Am I late for a meeting?" he asked coolly.
"Not at all," Harry said. "We were just comparing notes on what we each got for Christmas. How was your holiday?"
Blaise smiled. "Magical, Harry. Absolutely magical."
Near the Great Hall
Just before dinner
"Pssst!"
Amaryllis Wilkes looked around sharply at the sound until she noticed Jim Potter partially hidden behind a suit of armor. She looked around to make sure no one was watching before moving over to the nervous boy.
"What is it, Potter?" she asked warily.
Jim looked around as well and swallowed. "I, um... Listen, after what happened before the break, I ... I just wanted to say thanks... Again. And also, I wanted to give you this." He held out a small box wrapped in silver foil to the girl. "It's nothing much. Just a token of appreciation for how you helped me. And also a late 'Merry Christmas' I guess."
She gave the boy a dubious look and then carefully took the box and unwrapped it. Her eyes widened. It was a box of very fine chocolates from Honeydukes.
"Wow. Thanks, Potter. That was ... very thoughtful of you."
"You're welcome, Wilkes." The two looked at each other nervously, as if neither knew what to say next. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), they were saved from making small talk by the arrival of someone else.
"Potter?!" exclaimed Cormac McLaggen. "You're hanging out with Junior Death Eaters now?!"
With McLaggen were several other Third and Fourth Year Gryffindors. Jim studied them, wondering with a mixture of fear and anger whether any of them were one of the pair that had jumped him before Christmas. Behind them, he also noticed Ron and several younger Gryffs holding back and watching.
"Who I hang out with is none of your concern, McLaggen," Jim said coldly while moving to position himself between Wilkes and his fellow Gryffindors.
McLaggen took a step forward. "I think it is our concern if we've got the Heir of Slytherin lurking in our house and he's consorting with the Toymaker's daughter!"
Several students gasped at the accusation. Jim's hand inched towards his wand, while McLaggen and his cronies bowed up aggressively. But before the spells could start to fly, another voice cried out.
"That's quite enough!"said Miranda Bonneville, the Sixth Year Slytherin prefect as she stepped around a corner. Behind her were Cassius Warrington and the two Slytherin Beaters. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you fine upstanding Gryffindors that there's to be no fighting in the corridors. Supper is awaiting. Run along!"
McLaggen and the other Gryffindors glared back and forth between Miranda and Jim before departing for the Great Hall. Ron was the last to go. Oddly, he didn't look as angry towards Jim as the older Gryffinors, but there was a coldness to his expression that made Jim shiver a bit. He left without a word.
"Everything okay, Potter? Wilkes?"
"We're fine," mumbled the shaken boy as he watched his former friends stalk off without him.
Miranda moved closer to Potter and Wilkes and spoke quietly but firmly. "Potter, on behalf of Slytherin House, I thank you for being so protective of Miss Wilkes."
"It was nothing," Jim said blushing slightly.
"I disagree. Given Miss Wilkes's background, I don't think it should surprise you to know that she's been the victim of a great deal of unpleasantness since the school year started. Pranks. Hexes. Insults. The occasional threat of physical harm."
Jim stiffened and turned to look back at Amy, who looked away in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry to say," Miranda continued, "that much of this abuse has come from your House. So I assure you that it means a great deal for someone of your stature to be so tolerant and protective of her. Again, you have the gratitude of House Slytherin."
The boy nodded almost dumbly. "The gratitude of House Slytherin," he thought. "That's something I never thought I'd hear ... or for that matter see any value in receiving!"
With that Cassius Warrington stepped forward. "Mr. Potter, I don't think we've ever been formally introduced. I am Cassius Warrington. I believe you already know Peregrine Derrick and Lucien Bole from the Quidditch Team. From what I just saw, I am concerned that you yourself might be suffering from some level of threat from your own House. I know that you are quite skilled at Defense, but if you're interested, we and some of our friends have a small informal Defense study group. Currently, it's only five Slytherins and four Ravenclaws. We've never invited a Gryffindor before ... and honestly, never thought one would accept if we did invite him. But if you don't feel safe among the Gryffindors, you are more than welcome to join us for advanced Defense training. Several of our members are Newts-level Defense students and are on the Auror Academy career track. I think you could learn a lot with us."
Jim swallowed. "Yeah, I bet I could. But what exactly would I be learning in a Slytherin Defense class?!" After a second, he gave a weak smile. "Your offer is very generous and kind, Mr. Warrington. I'll consider it carefully."
Warrington smiled. "I hope you do, Mr. Potter. Despite the differences in our Houses, I think you'll find that we have much to offer you."
With that, the Slytherins all nodded respectfully to the Boy-Who-Lived (who thought this was among the most surreal experiences of his life) before heading on to supper with Amy Wilkes in tow.
After they left, Jim exhaled and shook his head. "At this rate, I'll get that Howler from Dad I've been expecting before the week is out!"
The Headmaster's Office
9:00 p.m.
After supper, Harry made his way to the Headmaster's Office, where he spent the better part of an hour staring into Albus Dumbledore's twinkling eyes while fending off his Legilimency attacks. Finally, the old man called it a night.
"My congratulations, Harry. Your skills are remarkably impressive for someone of your age. I am not entirely certain that you could block Voldemort himself for any extended length of time, but to be honest, if you came under his hand, it is likely that no amount of Occlumency could hold him at bay. It is for that reason that I must also ask you to take a secrecy vow which will make it impossible to coerce the secret from you and also prevent you from intentionally or unintentionally revealing the secret."
Harry cocked his head. "Does this mean you don't trust me, Headmaster?" Dumbledore started to respond when Harry laughed. "It's alright, sir. To be honest, I'd have been concerned if you'd been willing to just tell a twelve-year-old the secret without any additional precautions. What sort of oath do you propose?"
Secrecy oaths, of course, are not as stringent as Unbreakable Vows in that they don't impose a death sentence on violators. Harry himself was quite familiar with secrecy oaths having already sworn a few already. By swearing an oath never to reveal a particular fact to anyone who didn't already know it, the oathtaker actually devotes a portion of his own magic to preserving the secret. The oath's most basic function is to prevent the oathtaker from accidentally revealing the secret. If he gets too loose-lipped, the oath will nudge him and remind him of what he promised. If he's drugged or becomes intoxicated, then he will stop talking altogether rather than drunkenly reveal the truth. He will likewise become physically unable to speak about the secret when under the effects of Veritaserum or physical torture, and while the oath will not shield against Legilimency, its effects can augment the oathtaker's ability to resist having his mind read, even more so if he is also an Occlumens. The most powerful secrecy oaths provide even greater protections – the oathtaker will feel a strong intuitive reluctance to discuss the secret with someone who he thinks knows it but who actually does not (including imposters) or even when there are hidden eavesdroppers nearby who might overhear. Finally, the oathtaker can intentionally reveal the secret, but doing so will cause Magic itself to permanently brand him in some way, usually with a permanent disfigurement that mark him forever as an oathbreaker. In Britain, wizarding law forbids wizards and witches branded as oathbreakers from testifying in court cases, from entering into contracts that are not magically enforced, and even from some areas of employment for which trustworthiness is deemed paramount.
Harry furrowed his brow as he absorbed Dumbledore's explanation of how secrecy oaths applied in their situation. "Did they make Sirius Black swear a secrecy oath?" he asked abruptly.
"A very astute question, Harry. The answer is no. There is a necessary design flaw in the Fidelius Charm which ensures that no other type of secrecy oath could bind the Secret Keeper in any way. The spell makes it impossible for anyone to learn the secret by any means other than intentional revelation, including direct observation of the truth, and it also erases knowledge of the secret from people who knew it before the spell was cast. But Magic always demands a price for effects of such a global impact, and with the Fidelius, the price is that you must put absolute faith in the person you choose to keep the secret."
Harry nodded and swore the oath Dumbledore demanded. The boy saw the benefits of the oath, and anyway how could he complain? According to Dumbledore, Jim himself had been made to swear the same oath once his parents found out he knew the Prophecy in order to reduce the chance of him accidentally revealing it, and Peter Pettigrew had sworn an even more stringent Unbreakable Vow. When the oath was complete, Dumbledore rose and went to a cabinet from which he produced a pensieve and a small vial. Minutes later, the two emerged from Dumbledore's memory of Sybil Trelawney's ill-fated job interview. It was illuminating to Harry in many ways. For one thing, he'd never imagined that a True Seer could deliver a Prophecy despite being visibly intoxicated. Harry thought through the words of the Prophecy.
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..." He looked up at the Headmaster. "How did James and Lily Potter defy the Dark Lord three times?"
"That was indeed one of the more vexing questions raised by the Prophecy. After all, what level of oppositions counts as 'defiance' for purposes of satisfying a prophecy? You know, I initially suspected that Neville Longbottom was more likely to be the Prophecy Child rather than your brother or you. Neville was a Pureblood, after all, which I'd have assumed someone like Voldemort would more likely consider a threat. But more importantly, Neville's parents were also both Aurors who had fought against Voldemort's forces repeatedly prior to their deaths, and each of them had killed several high-ranking Death Eaters in the course of their duties. Alice Longbottom was six months pregnant when she ended the life of Boruslav Lestrange, the father of Rabastan and Rodolphus and father-in-law to Bellatrix Black-Lestrange. As for your parents? Well, James was both an auror and a Lord of the Wizengamot, even as young as he was back then, and in both arenas, he had challenged Voldemort many times in ways that might constitute defiance. But your mother? Well, she wrote a very famous and much-admired Letter to the Editor of the Daily Prophet in which she denounced the Death Eaters and Voldemort and encouraged her fellow Muggleborns to take up arms and stand with the government against the forces of bigotry. She also fought Bellatrix Lestrange to a standstill in a duel in Diagon Alley during the December prior to your birth. But as for a third defiance, I've never been sure what it might have been. I finally concluded that it must have been her decision to marry a Pureblood like James despite the social stigma, but frankly, I've always found that ... unsatisfactory."
Harry considered that before continuing with the Prophecy. "'And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.' I assume the mark is the V-scar on Jim's forehead. Do we have any idea what the mysterious power is?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "I am somewhat embarrassed to say that my best theory to date has been ... love."
Harry coughed. "... love, sir?"
"I admit it's not a well-reasoned theory. But I've never been able to detect anything magically unusual about Jim that's not explained simply by the fact that he's growing up to become a powerful wizard, though to be honest, he's no more powerful for his age than either you or Neville or even some of your peers such as Draco Malfoy or Hermione Granger. True, he somehow immolated the body of Quirinus Quirrell last May and so was able to drive Voldemort's shade away, but how he was able to do so remains a mystery. So instead, I've tried to work backwards from the other part of that phrase. What could the power be that Voldemort knows not? His occult knowledge is vast, and I am not ashamed to say that his knowledge of the Dark Arts exceeds my own. But from his actions and conduct, it seemed clear that Voldemort suffers from profound psychosis, and he has continually exhibited overtly sadistic behavior, especially towards his own followers. During the war, he was notorious for inflicting the Cruciatus Curse as punishment for even the mildest transgressions. So I began to wonder if his apparent inability to experience or understand the emotion of love might represent the power he knows not."
"... love," Harry said again, still somewhat dubiously. Dumbledore sighed.
"While a weak theory, Harry, I assure you that it's not as far-fetched as you might think. Believe it or not, there is in fact a standing research group that has been in place for centuries within the Department of Mysteries that is devoted to studying the supernatural implications of love. There are a number of obscure esoteric spells that can only be cast by a wizard who possesses strong feelings of love for another. I understand you are presently studying the Patronus Charm, and for most wizards who can perform that spell, the happy memory which fuels it generally pertains to one's loved ones. Similarly, there are many dark spells which can only be cast by one who does not feel love or, worse, is willing to sacrifice the object of his true love for the sake of power."
Harry absorbed all that. The Headmaster was right, of course. While it offended Harry's cynicism, "love" was certainly as plausible as anything he could come up with. He decided to move on to the next part of the Prophecy.
"'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.'" He frowned. "Does that mean that literally no one can kill either Jim or Voldemort except the other? That they're both effectively immortal until one of them kills the other?"
"Yes and no. I believe that whatever mechanism Voldemort used to achieve functional immortality is one that only the Child of Prophecy can overcome. However, I do not think that the reverse is true. Jim, despite his being recognized as the Boy-Who-Lived, is only the most obvious candidate to fulfill the Prophecy. If he were to die at the hands of Voldemort or anyone else, the Prophecy would eventually reorient itself towards another viable candidate."
Harry swallowed. "Me. Or Neville, I suppose."
"Correct, my boy. Though I suspect that your metaphysical proximity to Jim makes you the stronger candidate, which is why I was willing to reveal all this to you. We already know that Voldemort believes your parents to have defied him three times. And I suppose, in a pinch, Fate might consider the scar you received from the blast of Voldemort's bodily destruction to be him 'marking' you, albeit in a roundabout way."
The boy was silent for a moment. Then, he shook it off and focused back on the last of the Prophecy.
"'Neither can live while the other survives.' That's an ... odd way of phrasing it, don't you think? Is there a difference between living and surviving that Fate would consider important?"
Dumbledore grinned rather broadly at that. "Very good, Harry. A very insightful question and one that I've grappled with for years. The answer is ... I've no idea. What I know of Divination tells me that every word is important, even if its import cannot be immediately understood. I am convinced that the very distinction you've drawn – living versus merely surviving – is important to fully understanding the rest of the Prophecy. Alas, I am no closer to understanding that distinction than I was when I first heard the Prophecy in 1980. After all, Voldemort survived for over a decade, during which time Jim enjoyed a life of considerable prosperity and comfort."
A barely perceptible wince flashed across Harry's face. Dumbledore noticed the reaction and suddenly realized what he'd just said. He deflated slightly. "A life that you were denied, Harry. I've said it before, but ... it cannot be said enough. For my role in wrongly declaring you a squib thereby leading you to your placement with the Dursleys, I humbly apologize."
"It's alright, sir. It's ... it's the past, and I'm not much for brooding. I know your intentions were good and that it wasn't your fault I was left there unattended. You have no cause to apologize to me."
From his perch nearby, Fawkes let out a soothing trill that lifted the spirits of Harry and Dumbledore both.
"That reminds me, Headmaster. You never did tell me who was the third person was who got a wand with one of Fawkes's feathers."
"Didn't I? Oh yes, I remember our earlier conversation now. It was a brilliant young man who overcame a tragic upbringing to become one of our very best students. He was sorted into Slytherin in 1938 and rose to become Head Boy. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Harry's eyes opened wide. "Tom Marvolo Riddle had a wand that was brother to mine and Jim's?"
The Headmaster was surprised at Harry's response. "You know the name, Harry?"
"Er, yes sir. After what happened last Halloween, the members of my study group were curious about that whole 'Heir of Slytherin' business and did some research. His name came up. I gather he got a Special Services Award over it. I did think it odd, however, that no one seems to have heard much of him after his graduation."
Dumbledore shook his head almost fondly. "Indeed. Tom Marvolo Riddle. A name I haven't thought of in a very long time." He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "It's getting rather late, Harry, and you don't have much time before curfew. Let me escort you back to the entrance to the dungeons, and along the way, I'll tell you what I remember about the young Mr. Riddle."
Meanwhile in the Slytherin Dungeon...
Amy entered the dungeon with her bookbag over her shoulder. She'd spent a few hours studying alone in the Library while she thought about what had happened earlier with Jim Potter. As she crossed the Common Room, she noticed Ginny Weasley sitting on a divan chatting with Astoria Greengrass. Ginny looked up towards her as she passed, but Amy spared her a glance and no more. Instead, she made her way down a side corridor to the study where Warrington held court over his circle of Pureblood friends. She entered and closed the door behind her.
"Well, that went reasonably well. Although I think you overplayed it by inviting Potter to the Slytherin Dueling Society. We've got a ways to go before he'll be remotely comfortable in a room full of Slytherins shooting off hexes at him."
Warrington sniggered. "He'll come around. You just keep working on him."
"It might be helpful if I actually knew what your plans for him were. It's not like he can get resorted into Slytherin even if he does have dark tendencies."
"You just leave the planning to us, Wilkes. You're job is to give the Golden Hero someone towards whom he can feel protective. You lead him to us and we'll do the rest."
"The rest of what? You think you can turn Jim Potter into a Dark Lord and then, what, ride his coattails to glory?"
Warrington and the other Slytherins stiffened at that. "You forget who you're talking to, Wilkes," snapped Miranda Bonneville. "Just as you've forgotten that you came to us to ask for protection for yourself." Miranda smirked. "Not to mention your little blood traitor friend."
Amaryllis' face hardened. She lifted her chin and took a step forward, her eyes flashing dangerously. "No, Miranda, I think it's all of you lot who have forgotten who you're talking to! You with your schemes about turning Jim Potter dark. Warrington, Bonneville, Derrick, and Bole. All of you so proud of your mighty Pureblood families. Don't make me laugh! You forget that my father sat at Voldemort's right hand!" The other Slytherins all gasped at her use of the forbidden name. "That my mother chose to die in Azkaban rather than betray the Dark Lord! And all while your families were as gray as last year's underpants! All of your families so eager to whisper your support for the Death Eaters but not a Dark Mark to be found on any of them."
Wilkes took a second to regain her composure while the older Slytherins looked at one another nervously. Then, Amaryllis continued more calmly.
"As for Ginny Weasley, I am seeking protection for that little blood traitor for one reason and one reason only – because if anything bad happens to the Weaslette while I'm sharing a dorm room with her, I'll catch the blame for it. I need her and her miserable blood traitor family's golden reputation to rehabilitate the Wilkes name until I can marry well, have a child, and finally gain access to the birthright that would have been mine years ago if I'd only been a boy instead of a girl. Only then will Arthur Weasley's miserable brood get what's coming to them!"
She stepped back and crossed her arms defiantly. "So, do we have an understanding?"
Warrington licked his lips. "We ... do, Wilkes. On Miranda's behalf, I apologize for our lack of appreciation for your efforts ... as well as for your family's noble service to the cause. Please, pull up a chair. Now that you've proven yourself, not to mention explained satisfactorily your protective interest in the Weasley girl, we can tell you a bit more about what we hope to accomplish."
Amy nodded, pulled out a chair, and sat down, no longer an agent of Cassius Warrington's Pureblood conspiracy, but a full member.
Soon after in the hallways of Hogwarts...
"When I first met Tom Riddle in 1937," said Dumbledore as he led the boy on a leisurely walk through the darkened school, "he was an eleven-year-old London orphan. It was the eve of World War II, and he was an inmate at Wool's Orphanage, his mother having died there giving birth to him on New Year's Eve of 1926. To be honest, my first impression of Tom was rather negative. I was Deputy Headmaster at the time, and it was my job to deliver his Hogwarts letter and explain to him the nature of magic and of this school. He was quite traumatized by his upbringing, and he admitted a past history of stealing from other orphans. He implied that he had even hurt some of them deliberately with magic, although he maintained it was self-defense. At the time, I was quite concerned about whether the boy would fit in here."
"What changed?" asked Harry.
Dumbledore smiled. "You and he had something in common: a great appreciation for the value of both learning and advanced preparation. The school provided a small stipend for charity cases such as Tom's, and after purchasing all of his school books and supplies, there was enough left over to pay for several books about wizarding culture and etiquette. The boy who arrived on the Hogwarts Express was far more sophisticated and cultured than the sullen angry lad I'd met weeks before, much as your own immersive study of culture and etiquette gave you an edge when you first arrived here. Of course, etiquette and intellect alone would not have enabled him to succeed as a Slytherin, but Tom had a third advantage that he parlayed into tolerance from Slytherin House, if not exactly open-armed acceptance. An advantage that he shared with your brother, Jim. Can you guess what it was?"
Harry shrugged. "Was he a Quidditch star?"
The Headmaster laughed. "I don't know that Tom ever touched a broom after his First Year. No, I refer to the fact that Tom Riddle was a Parselmouth."
The boy's head jerked around in surprise. "A Parselmouth?! But he was Muggleborn, wasn't he? And how did a Parselmouth ever be accepted enough to become Head Boy?"
"Oh in those days, Harry, Parseltongue was a disfavored skill to be sure, but it was not yet something that provoked unreasoning fear in wizards and witches. That only happened after Voldemort's rise to power. He was known for aggressively using Parseltongue as a tool for terrorism, such as by summoning entire generations of poisonous snakes and sending them en masse against his enemies. When Tom was here, Parseltongue was disfavored because it implied descent from Salazar Slytherin, but that was all. In fact, Tom's Parseltongue was apparently what eventually allowed him to discover his true heritage. His father was a Muggle, but his mother was Merope Gaunt, one of the last members of the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt, a House known for carrying the Parseltongue inheritance."
Harry thought about the name. He recognized Gaunt as being descended from Slytherin according to Salazar's tapestry, but he certainly didn't recall it as an Ancient and Noble House. "Is House Gaunt extinct?"
"Yes. It was a patrilineal house with very stringent limitations on acceptable marital partners. Merope Gaunt was excluded from inheritance because of her gender, and even if she hadn't been, Tom would have been excluded for having a Muggle father. The last males who were eligible to serve as Lord Gaunt died during the 1940's, and the Wizengamot acknowledged line extinction soon after. I vaguely recall that there was some scandal in the Wizengamot involving Toms's grandfather from back in the 1920's. I also seem to recall Horace Slughorn mentioning that when Tom returned to school for his Sixth Year, he was wearing the Gaunt Lord's Ring, but it had no political significance by that point."
"Were you not there at the time, Headmaster?"
"No," the old man said with a grim expression. "In the summer of 1943, I took sabbatical to join the British Wizarding Expeditionary Force against Grindelwald in Germany. I didn't return until fall of 1945, by which time Tom had graduated. I wouldn't see Tom Riddle again until many years later."
"What happened to him?"
"A good question. Despite his remarkable NEWTs scores, Tom never sought a job with the Ministry or even with any private concerns. To my surprise, he got a job working in a highly disreputable antiques store in Knockturn Alley. Then, he simply disappeared. For years, I assumed he'd emigrated. So many of our more talented Muggleborns and Half-Bloods do, after all. But then, in 1957, Tom showed up out of the blue to apply for the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts. I turned him down and he left. I never saw him again after that."
"Why did you turn him down for the job? It seems like he'd have been a natural at it."
Dumbledore stopped, and a look of mild confusion slipped over his face. "You know, Harry, now that you mention it, it is the oddest thing. I remember interviewing Tom for the job. I remember thinking he would be exceptionally qualified. And I remember thinking very firmly that he should not be hired." The Headmaster looked down at Harry. "But for the life of me, I can't remember why."
The Slytherin Dungeon, 1st Year Girls' Dorm
When Amy finally entered her dorm room, Astoria and Drusilla weren't in yet, but Ginny Weasley was sitting on her bed as if waiting patiently. As Amy closed the door, Ginny stood and walked over to her with her arms crossed. Her expression was cool.
"So, Death Eater, are you done selling me out to Warrington and all his Pureblood friends for the night?"
Amy sneered at her. "Yeah, blood traitor. For tonight, anyway."
The two glared at each other for a moment ... before each of them burst into giggles.
"See, I told you it would work," said Ginny.
"I know. But I still can't believe that Cassius Warrington at the age of fourteen thinks he's some sort of evil mastermind!"
"Now then," said Ginny eagerly, "before Dru gets back from the loo, tell me everything that happened!
Elsewhere in the castle ...
"So you left to fight Grindelwald right after the year the Chamber of Secrets was opened," Harry inquired.
Dumbledore looked down at Harry in surprise. "You are remarkably well-informed, Mr. Potter."
"I'm told I have an appreciation for both learning and advanced preparation. When somebody petrifies a cat and leaves a note about 'the Heir of Slytherin,' I take an interest."
"Indeed. Alas, I have few answers about the Chamber of Secrets affair. We never found the Chamber, if it in fact exists. We never discovered who the Heir of Slytherin was, though poor Hagrid was falsely accused of the crimes. We never even found out how the victims were petrified, whether by spell or by some sort of creature. There were, of course, tales about Slytherin's Monster, but that may have been misdirection."
"Well, what did the petrified students say when they were, um, depetrified? Unpetrified?"
"I believe 'unpetrified' is the proper English word, though I think it's more clinically proper merely to say 'revived.' And to answer your question, they had very little to say at all. Whatever effect caused the petrification also instilled a short term amnesia. None of the surviving victims upon revival could remember anything which happened within a minute or so prior to their petrifications except a strong recollection of 'big yellow eyes,' which again points to some sort of creature, but not conclusively."
"Moaning Myrtle said something about 'big yellow eyes.' Which reminds me: Why do you think she was killed instead of just petrified?"
"To be honest, I believe that her death was unintentional. She was actually petrified like the other victims but was in motion at the time, perhaps trying to run from her attacker. From the positioning of her body, it appears that she was petrified and immediately tipped over, and as she fell, her temple struck the hard corner of a wash basin at just the right angle to kill her. It is telling, I believe, that there were no further attacks after her death. I believe the assailant feared that Myrtle's death would bring about an auror's investigation, and even an accidental killing would provoke a far harsher legal punishment than mere petrifications."
"How were the students ... revived?"
"Mandrake Restorative Draught. An extremely difficult to produce potion, seeing as it calls for prodigious quantities of an incredibly rare, expensive and difficult to raise plant. Hogwarts is the only place it's grown in Britain, and one of the few in Europe. One of the many potent potables that can be prepared using fully-matured Mandrake root is a restorative potion that can cancel out any transfigurative effect on the imbiber, including petrification."
"I'm guessing we don't have any on hand, since Mrs. Norris is still petrified over two months later."
"The Mandrakes being grown in the Greenhouse won't be fully matured for months to come," Dumbledore replied. "Actually, though, we do have a very small quantity of Mandrake extract provided by Professor Lockhart. We have held it in reserve in case the mysterious Heir of Slytherin were to attack a student. But as you say, it's been two months and there have been no further incidents, so I think it should be safe now to..."
As they turned a corner, Dumbledore froze, the words dying on his lips. He reached out with a firm hand and pushed Harry behind him while pulling out his wand with the other hand. For his part, Harry gasped in surprise and once more paid respects to Blaise's Gods of Irony, who obviously must have been listening to Dumbledore talk. For sure enough, the Heir of Slytherin had struck again. In the hallway up ahead lay the petrified body of Cormac McLaggen, his frozen face in a rictus of fear. And on the wall above him, written in what might well be blood, was a message for the entire school.
Behold the Fate That Awaits You
Enemies of the Heir of Slytherin
The next chapter will be posted sometime between March 8 and March 10, 2016.
AN 1: "Neither can live while the other survives" has never made much sense to me. My fanon explanation is as follows: "Living" within the meaning of the Prophecy means "having friends, experiencing happiness, and being able to pursue one's life goals," while "surviving" means "not dying." Voldemort endured as a shade, but so long as he did survive, it was necessary to hide canon-Harry away at the Dursleys. At the same time, Harry was trapped at the Dursleys where he experienced survival rather than life, but while he was hidden away, Voldemort couldn't get at him and use Harry to resurrect himself. It is telling then that when Harry comes to Hogwarts and finally experiences some true happiness, it coincides with Voldemort returning and aggressively pursuing his agenda once more after a decade of quiescence.
AN 2: Yes, Hermione basically ruined Marietta Edgecombe's life in canon. I love Hermione dearly, but it always troubled me that she apparently permanently disfigured a classmate and never paid any price for it.
AN 3: The revised Prologue (now renamed "The Meeting Begins") will be posted later today. Check it out and let me know if it fixes the problems of the original draft.