Chapter 17
Being a student in their final year gave one some perks. As the NEWTs loomed on the horizon, my free time was virtually non-existent but I was compensated somewhat by a few select privileges. Some such privileges were codified in the school regulations and were as much intended to help prevent students from being overcome by stress as anything else. Most, however, were more like traditions.
Seventh-years had first pick of places to sit and read in the Library or the common rooms. Teachers looked the other way when seventh-years visited the kitchen for extra food—though students were only actually punished for that if they'd done something to particularly annoy a given teacher anyway.
And nobody asked questions if a seventh-year paced around the corridors with no rhyme or reason for hours on end between classes. It was a very bleak privilege, but one that I made full use of.
It may have been my final year at Hogwarts—and wasn't that a saddening thought—but it was only Harry Potter's second. And in Harry's second year Lucius Malfoy attempted to open the Chamber of Secrets.
Dumbledore had covertly checked incoming first-years' luggage and found the diary right where it had been expected—in Ginny Weasley's belongings. He took her aside, explained that it was cursed, urged her to keep quiet about it except to her brothers, and sent back to her House with a calming mug of hot cocoa. That had been yesterday evening.
This morning, Harry Potter had been called to see the headmaster on unspecified business and neither had been seen in the hours since. Lunch had passed with their places in the great Hall empty. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom had been closed by Albus's orders, though none but myself knew why.
Albus and Harry had gone to slay the basilisk. It wasn't like in the original books where two desperate school boys had shanghaied a charming fraud into escorting them. This time, Harry was in the company of Dumbledore himself. Albus knew what to expect and what precautions to take. I suspected that if I were to check with Hagrid he'd very specifically and fervently deny letting the headmaster borrow a rooster.
Albus should have no bother in defeating the giant serpent. None at all. And yet...
And yet they were gone so long. They should be fine, but if they weren't there was a very real risk that the basilisk was loose in the castle once more. I didn't know what it might do in the absence of any orders, but I feared the worst—that it would follow the last edicts of Tom Riddle and begin hunting Muggle-borns.
The corridor was empty, but every slight sound made me jump and twitch as though the snake was about to loom out of the shadows at any moment and strike me dead with its terrible eyes.
It was unlikely, I knew. Dumbledore would be careful, he wouldn't risk the castle like that. But it wasn't impossible and so my skin crawled.
My stomach churned through my first few classes and I wasn't sure I'd be able to swallow my dinner. I made myself go anyway. I was glad I did.
Dumbledore once more held pride of place in the Great Hall, beaming down at his students. I spared a glance to see if Harry was at his table—he was—before returning my gaze to the headmaster. As usual, Albus had an uncanny ability to tell when he was being watched and turned to meet my gaze just long enough to wink before turning to converse with Professor Snape.
I took my usual place—another seventh-year privilege—and began to eat, forcing the delicious tasteless mush into my stomach. The day had been as nerve-wracking as any exam and had brought me to a realisation.
Conflict scared me, but being passive was even worse.
—tN—tN—tN—
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to your Defence Against the Dark Arts class." The face of Gilderoy Lockhart beamed at us all from the front of the classroom. I resisted the urge to twitch. The wizard stepped around his desk and began striding around the classroom, speaking as he went. He didn't have a terribly large audience. There wasn't even a dozen students taking Defence Against the Dark Arts for their NEWTs.
"Now, I gather that in your time at this illustrious institution you have had quite a number of teachers of varying quality. Quite understandably, you are all likely quite worried about the potential state of affairs this year. Well worry no more, I tell you! For I, Gilderoy Lockhart, am here to instruct and educate you to the best of my considerable ability.
"Now, I'm sure that students as diligent as you all—congratulations on making it to your final year, by the way—are all familiar with my books already. As such, we need not concern ourselves with them any further this year save as reference material. Instead, we will devote our time to the practical application of what you have learned so far and to developing new and innovative ways of bringing the battle to the Dark Forces that threaten us."
It was certainly a more inspiring opening than the one I remembered Harry receiving. Our teacher suited words to action and ordered us to the front of the room with only our wands. Then he cleared the floor with a wave of his own wand and turned to face us once more.
"To begin with, what is the most important weapons we have against the Dark Arts? And I'll give you a clue, the answer is not your wands or your magic."
I'd spent much of my last few years writing ex-aurors and other noted warriors against the Dark Arts for advice and knew the answer.
"Experience, sir." He smiled—teeth flashing—and gestured for me to elaborate. I still wasn't comfortable being the centre of attention, but I continued anyway. "There are many things that are useful in fighting the Dark Arts. Reflexes, to be able to react in time. Knowledge, to act appropriately and effectively. Courage, to be able to act at all when confronted with fear. And all of these come from experience. The more actual practice you have in dealing with the Dark Arts, the faster you will be able to recognise what to do and do it. The more familiar you are with something, the more likely you are to be able to conquer your fears. In general, that is."
"Succinctly put and well-reasoned! Twenty points to your house! Now, for obvious reasons, we can't unleash a Nundu on you in class or pit you against actual Dark Wizards intent on murder. As such, we will be working with three different kinds of exercise for the most part.
"Firstly will be duelling. Though it would be more accurately referred to as sparring as we will not be dealing in manners and bowing. I will group you up, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in larger groups. Sometimes you will be sparring against one person, sometimes you will have to contend against multiple people. Much of the time you will be on your own, other times you will have to work with others. Duelling will hone your battle reflexes and tactical thinking as well as improve your aim and technique when casting.
"Secondly we will be doing simulated exercises. In these, I will give you a scenario and you must pass them with your own knowledge. I may put you into an obstacle course laden with deadly traps, require you to identify danger in an apparently-harmless selection of objects or set you to hunt down an unknown creature somewhere in the castle. While I shall endeavour to ensure your lives are not imperilled in these, I cannot guarantee that you will not require the aid of the marvellous Madam Pomfrey at some point.
"Finally, there will be research projects. Every two weeks, you will each be assigned a topic. It may be a curse, a creature, an object or the description of a Dark Attack. You will then have to investigate that topic to the best of your abilities and return to me with details demonstrating your complete understanding of it. For example, for a curse, I would need to know what it does, where it originates from, how to counter it and who is likely to use it and why. You will have unfettered access to the Restricted Section of the Library for these. In fact, I'll be handing out passes for each of you at the end of this lesson for the year." The megawatt grin vanished. "Do not abuse them." It returned.
The year was looking up already.
—tN—tN—tN—
"My apologies for questioning your judgement, Professor Dumbledore," the Defence teacher said, perfect smile marred by a frown. "But is it really appropriate to involve a student in this?"
'This' was the further exploration of the Chamber of Secrets, an expedition party of three. Following the defeat of the Basilisk in the first week of term, Dumbledore had requested that Harry leave the entrance open. Without the parseltongue barrier, we were free to venture into the Chamber for ourselves to examine what else lay within. After all, it was known as the Chamber of Secrets. Plural, not singular.
"It is quite alright, Professor Lockhart," Albus said, humming cheerily. "As I'm sure you've observed in your classes, Poe is a capable student with a record of being mature and reliable. They've also made a particular study of the magics of concealment and counter-concealment, skills that would greatly benefit from a real-life exercise under controlled conditions. They're also an Animagus capable of flight incidentally, and is, therefore, an invaluable ally in exploration."
"An Animagus so young?" The younger professor turned to look at me while still walking, his eyes seeming to see me in a new light. "Quite remarkable. But I'm still not sure that's it's entirely appropriate, even with such great wizards as yourself and I, the renowned Gilderoy Lockhart, as protection!"
I cast a few detection spells and found nobody within range. A few privacy spells foiled any remote surveillance.
"Very renowned, Professor," I said. "But I was under the impression that Gilderoy Lockhart preferred lilac to black?"
He came to a dead stop and spun around to face me fully, eyes wide and wand pointed squarely at my chest. I covertly cast a shield and used a spell I'd created that would make me appear to be in the same place while I stood a bit to one side. My opponent didn't notice the trick, though Albus's darting eyes alerted me that he saw through my deception.
"Calm down, Sirius," Albus said, giving his own wand a twitch to break my illusion and uncover my true location. "Poe is quite trustworthy, I assure you."
"That's irrelevant, Albus," the disguised Sirius Black snarled. "This was supposed to be a secret. You haven't even let me tell Harry yet, but you feel the need to inform a random seventh-year?"
"I did no such thing," Dumbledore assured him. "Poe made their own deductions and told me of them when I requested their presence on this little trip."
"How?" Sirius's tone had not wavered an inch, still glaring at me intently. At least his wand was now at his side instead of directed at me.
"Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud," I said. "The person who came before us to teach was not."
"That explains how you knew who I wasn't, but not how you knew who I was. And it begs the question of how you knew that about Lockhart, but that's a separate issue. How did you know who I was?"
I wavered for a moment before admitting the truth.
"I borrowed the Marauder's Map from the Weasley twins to check. You seem to be coping well for a man released from a life-sentence in Azkaban, Mr Black."
"Over a solid year of bloody therapy will do that to you," Sirius muttered, relaxing. "The Map, you say? How did you even know that existed?"
"The Weasley twins have adopted me as a mentor of sorts in uncovering the secrets of Hogwarts. They told me about the Map shortly after they found it—an incident involving Filch's office, ask them about it yourself—and I've borrowed it a few times since. While I had possession of it a while ago, I took the liberty of Concealing your own presence on the Map. It can be undone quite easily if you know it's there, but in the meantime, it should prevent your cover from being blown too soon."
"Clever, very clever," Sirius said, looking almost impressed. "The Map can't be fooled, but it's readers can. Alright then, you can stay. Let's see how good those wits of yours really are."
—tN—tN—tN—
Dumbledore had made a point of defanging the basilisk before leaving the Chamber the first time and had likely extracted any other lingering venom as well. The rest of the basilisk's corpse still lay in the chamber, curled at the foot of the colossal statue of Salazar Slytherin. I gathered that the headmaster planned to bring in specialists to remove the body and extract anything valuable or otherwise of interest at a later date. First, though, it was our job to clear the Chamber of any lingering traps or nasty surprises.
I had been casting my own detection spells every few minutes all the way down and had turned up nothing beyond the Chamber's own Unplottability spells and other secrecy charms. I was more than a bit impressed at how extensive they were. If I had not already been inside the area they were protecting, I doubt I would have been able to find them at all.
Once in the Chamber proper, Albus had conjured a flock of glowing lights to illuminate the room in its entirety. It really was quite large, though the fact that it was almost entirely flooded somewhat ruined the effect. I cast an Imperturbability Charm on my robe and boots before stepping down to keep the water off. Along with whatever else may be in it.
"There's old magic here," Dumbledore voiced aloud after a few moments of running his fingers along surfaces I couldn't see and mumbling to himself. "Very old and powerful. Not quite as dark as one may have imagined."
"Slytherin was likely far from the dark figure he's been painted as," I said. "While it's true that the breeding of a Basilisk is considered a very dark and dangerous act of magic, particularly when doing so to act as a weapon, I have found little else in the way of hard historical facts to support the image of him as a Dark wizard. He was a Parseltongue, yes and a noted Legillimens, but neither of those is innately evil."
"Quite a historian, I see," Sirius said, snorting. "I didn't see History of Magic on your timetable though, so I'll take your theories with a grain of salt."
"Now, now, Sirius, don't be so childish," Albus chided. "Poe is entirely correct. While Salazar Slytherin may have fallen from grace, the details surrounding the events that lead to his expulsion from the castle are... Muddled to say about the least. It is not unlikely that the remaining member of the school may have taken to tarnishing his name to reduce the damage done by his departure. And it goes without saying that while he later turned to the perilous philosophy of blood purity, he founded the school alongside each of the other founders and taught alongside them for many years."
"Besides, his House is still around," I chimed in. "If he had truly turned to the dark arts then don't you think that the other founders would have worked to expunge his legacy in case he, you know, had created some kind of hidden weapon for his heirs to use against them?"
"Fine, fine, I see your point, doesn't change the fact that Slytherin was likely a slimy git."
"You can be obnoxious without being evil. Just as well or Azkaban would be packed to the gills." Sirius flinched at the name of the prison and I winced, cursing my choice of words. "Ah, sorry, I forgot that you—"
"Don't." Sirius's voice was determined. "It's just a name. I can deal with it. Besides, that was almost funny. But enough about whether or not Slythery got a fair trial, are any of the rest of you finding anything in here? Because I'm not. Not a single living thing, not a single dark curse, not a ghost, nothing."
"It is a bit surprising," Albus agreed, brow furrowed in what I recognised as intrigue. "I had expected for there to be something down here beyond the obvious." He waved a hand towards the still serpent and statue.
On a hunch, I cast a spell that checked for deceased beings. A corpse-finder.
"Oh. There... I think I found something," I said, my stomach already churning slightly. Albus glanced over, not having caught what spell I used. Sirius just tensed and raised his wand, as if to do battle. "In those little alcoves... No, behind them, in the wall. And under some of the stones. There are... creatures. Dead creatures. Not ones that I recognise, though I must admit that I have not taken Care of Magical Creatures."
Dumbledore's expression fell. He seemed to have reached his own conclusions about what had happened. With a wave of his wand, he uprooted one of the stones I'd indicated. The heavy block ground out of the floor and floated to the side, settling back down with nary a whisper.
Beneath it was a hollowed out space filled by a long desiccated skeleton. Parts were missing, likely fallen out of place, but it was smaller than a human with at least six arms and what I thought was a long tail. Albus levitated a skull into view. It was long with half a collection of razor-sharp teeth. Then he levitated the other four skulls.
"Merlin..." Sirius whispered. "He didn't just hide a basilisk down here. He hid an army."
"Not necessarily," I corrected, mouth running on automatic. "These could have been added later. Someone had to be able to access the Chamber to move the entrance, it stands to reason that there's been at least one heir that's made use of the place without feeling the time was right to unleash the basilisk. I'm more concerned with... More concerned by the fact that I don't recognise that. I don't recognise the shapes of any of these. What are they? Do either of you know?"
"I do not," Albus said. It was a quiet statement, not because he wished to make less of his ignorance but because I rather suspected he was experiencing the same horror as I was. "I will consult with experts in the field, but I have my doubts that they will turn up anything either."
"What do you mean? How could Slytherin, how could anyone get ahold of so many dark creatures so obscure that you don't think anyone will know what they are?" Sirius asked, turning slowly on the spot, wand flitting from shadow to shadow.
"Because Slytherin may have created them himself," I said, my own voice sounding as though it were coming from a great distance. "There is precedence with the basilisk, which requires an involved breeding process and no small amount of experimentation. Given his aptitude for communing with snakes, it would not be unreasonable for him to experiment with the creation of servants intended to best take advantage of that affinity. To see how far the definition of 'snake' can be stretched. I've read some texts in the Restricted Section about this sort of thing but... Albus, I'm seeing hundreds of these corpses. Maybe even thousands. It's hard to tell with how densely some of them seem packed."
"I see them too, Poe," Albus said. "The only thing in our favour is that they seem truly inert. Whatever purpose they may have been created for, they have, to use the Muggle turn of phrase, long passed their expiration date."
"If they were experiments, Slytherin wouldn't exactly be in a position to verify their longevity, I suppose," I said, forcibly keeping my tone light. "There were probably spells, maybe even potions, intended to keep them alive and well until they were needed, but a thousand years is a long time. Long enough for nearly any spell to fade, any potion to lose its potency. The heir Salazar's legacy awaited never came, or was too timid to make use of them. However long Salazar had expected it to take, it was too long, too long by far. In the end, the only one that survived was the basilisk. And now it too is at rest."
"How poetic," Sirius commented. "And I would like to propose that we leave the spooky dead creatures here and go back up. We came here to make sure that there wasn't anything dangerous hidden away. The only things we've found are corpses. Unless there are inferi hidden among them or there's some strange poison or plague in there, then our job is done. We can leave the rest to some of those magizoologist specialists you were talking about earlier. They'll know how to handle this."
"I must concur, Sirius," Albus said, lowering the stone block back into place, entombing the skeleton once more. "There is nothing more we can do. I'll send an owl to interested parties this evening and then the excavation of the fabled Chamber of Secrets can begin in earnest. Our part is done. Come now, I believe that there will be hot chocolate waiting for us."
I resisted the urge to shift into a raven and fly straight out of the Chamber. Instead, I followed after the two older wizards, still casting detection spells constantly, to be safe. And if we left faster than we entered, if we each placed our own separate sealing charms on the entrance as we passed through, we didn't mention it.
The Chamber's secrets were for others to unravel and I would love to hear their findings. From a distance.
—tN—tN—tN—
NEWTs were, strangely enough, both nasty and exhausting. The papers—or parchments, depending on how pedantic you were—put the OWL exams to shame both in length and complexity. Where OWLs had been more annoying, by and large, the NEWT exams were genuinely difficult. But I picked my subjects well. Those I elected to pursue to the end of my Hogwarts career were those that I had the deepest interest in from the very start. Those were the fields that I honed in sleepless nights until sweat dripped down the length of my wand to steam at the tip.
I Transfigured as easily as breathing, shifting a cup to a cat, a dragon, a ball of fire, an intricate ice sculpture, and finally an inanimate facsimile of a human being. My Charming ability was no less sharp. As accustomed as I was to working spells for detection, protection, concealment or convenience at a moment's notice, I managed even the most complex spells perfectly in complete silence.
My Potions work had grown in the preceding two years. Snape was not a good teacher, but as his class shrunk and those he deemed unsuitable were weaned out, he was able to act as a mentor, which suited him far more. Lectures delivered from the blackboard was replaced with sharp discussion and detailed criticism as he circled the classroom and observed us as we worked. I was tempted to try and steal his old Potions textbook—if it was even there to be found—but elected to emulate the Half-Blood Prince's example and annotated my own text with the results of experimentation. Snape's expression as he examined it one day was the closest I'd seen him come to respect.
More reasonable he may have been, Snape was still a harsh taskmaster and his classes were noteworthy for being the only one universally agreed to be harder than its exam. I failed to complete one of my potions on the day of the exam, but my work was otherwise flawless. I had likely missed out on an Outstanding, but I was optimistic that my grade would still pass muster.
Maths was an old foe for me and even armed with magic I was able to handle it in my Arithmancy exam. As usual, I was convinced of a number of operational errors, but it was the best I could.
Defence was the final challenge. My year was moderately lucky in that we had three and a half years of competent instruction. After Quirrel's unplanned departure, the post was filled by a rotation of Hit Wizards and Aurors on leave. It was a disjointed manner of teaching but still worlds ahead of the faltering lectures delivered by Quirrel's facade. Sirius was a bit rusty at the start of the year, but he hid it well and was well into his stride by the time the school broke for Christmas. He may never have been an auror, but his experience in combat against other witches and wizards was real. He also made a point of teaching the Patronus Charm to as many people as he could.
In spite of the patchy coverage of the material, I was able to perform to the required standards in spellwork and beyond them in creativity. The theory side was one of the few papers that I found easier than the practical.
And then I was done. Exhausted, but accomplished. My results would not come for a while, but I had officially completed my Hogwarts education and could go on with the rest of my life.
—tN—tN—tN—
"Congratulations on graduating, Poe."
Albus toasted me with his teacup. I raised my own cup and brought it against his with a chink. We were seated in the Headmaster's Office on either side of a small table Albus had pulled out for the occasion. I was doing my best not to get distracted by all the instruments and baubles around me.
Ironically, in spite of having met and conversed with Albus in a multitude of locations around the castle and beyond, this was the first time I'd been in his office. I supposed that was just a quirk of wanting to be sure that nobody noticed that Albus and I were meeting for private conversations on an irregular basis. But it still struck me as funny, in both the 'strange' and 'humorous' interpretations of the word.
"Thank you, Albus," I said, my mouth breaking into a genuine smile for a moment. "It's good to have the exams and homework behind me."
"Indeed. I take it that any insinuations that worse is yet to come would not be received well?"
My grip tightened minutely and my smile became significantly less-genuine, just for a moment before I reminded myself that Albus was making a joke.
"...I see that they would not. My apologies."
"No need to apologise. Just... Please don't bring that particular point of view up again."
I took a sip of the hotter-than-I-prefer tea and breathed deeply for a moment. I'd broken the moment and made things awkward...
"So, Albus, was there anything, in particular, you wanted to see me about? These are, ah, rather more formal surroundings than usual," I said after a moment of scrabbling for something to say. It was a good question though.
"Ah, I was curious about your plans going forward," Albus said, beard twitching as he smiled at me from behind his own teacup. "In particular, I wanted to offer some of my assistance and request some of your own."
"Well, I'm looking into starting up that line of books and games that I was telling you about," I said, dredging up the details. "At the moment I'm interested in getting premises in London that'd double as a shop and apartment. A small enough place, but it's doable. I think."
"In Diagon Alley?" Dumbledore said, one eyebrow quirked.
"No, Whimsik."
"Ah. A most pleasant little neighbourhood. Vastly more affordable than Diagon too. Even then..." Albus frowned for a moment, seemingly weighing something up. "If you'll forgive my presumptiveness, I have my doubts about whether you could start and sustain a business on top of paying for the premises."
"Yes, I'm still working out the kinks in that idea," I admitted. "I'm looking into anyone who might be able to give a trustworthy loan."
"I believe I can save you the bother of searching further," Dumbledore said, smile broadening suddenly. It took me a moment to twig to what he was suggesting.
"You? I wasn't under the impression that you were that wealthy yourself, Albus. Are you sure that's really okay?"
"Quite. Consider it a graduation gift to a talented student, an investment in an enterprise that could of service to the school... While I am not as wealthy as such individuals as the Malfoys, I am far from penniless, I assure you. The Headmaster's salary is not small and I have acquired rather a few other titles and positions over the years. And that's on top of some of my more profitable endeavours."
I had never considered Dumbledore's fiscal status. While I never thought him impoverished—certainly not in those robes—he never struck me as being wealthy either. Then again, Dumbledore was a very smart man. An old and influential one too. Even with his other duties, it wasn't hard to imagine that he had found some other ways of gaining income over the past century. Not to mention whatever rewards he received for stopping Grindlewald.
"If it isn't a burden on you, then that would be most appreciated Albus, thank you. Perhaps we can discuss it at a later date? I should be able to get more details on the property if I can tell them I have a source of finance."
"Naturally. Even if you leave this castle as a student, my door is always open to you, Poe."
"Then thank you. I'll get back to you on that. Now, how did you say I could be of use to you?"
Dumbledore straightened up, his cheery demeanour dimming.
"Yes... I'm sure you're as aware as I am, maybe even moreso, that it is highly probable that Tom will be returning to power in the near future. When that time comes... Can I count on your support? To fight him?"
I set my cup down carefully. Albus's question was one that had plagued me for the better part of a decade by now. I'd lost countless hours of sleep honing my skills in duelling and charming, done everything I could to be ready to fight—or at least to contribute. To do more than just survive. Albus was still speaking.
"I know you've made your own preparations, honed your not-inconsiderable talents. But there is a difference between being ready and able to fight in your defence, and being ready and willing to take the fight to the enemy. I would greatly appreciate having you by my side, but I cannot and will not force you to do so. If you so desire to live out the coming war in as much safety as possible, you have my blessing and support."
"I... I have been thinking," I said, working through my thoughts aloud. One of the things I appreciated about Albus was that he let me do that without interrupting. "About fighting. It scares me. I don't want to die. Or even be hurt. But I... I can't stay out of it either. At the start of the year, when you and Harry defeated the Basilisk, I felt wretched. I felt almost physically ill. And... And I don't think I can do that again. if... No. When Voldemort returns, you can count on me. I'm not sure how much use I'll be in a fight, but I'll do what I can. You can count on me for that."
"You sell yourself too short, Poe," Dumbledore said. He wasn't smiling, wasn't happy. And I appreciated that. I had just volunteered to risk my life, after all. "And thank you. When the time comes, I'll call you."
"And I'll answer," I said. I worked up the strength to feign a smile. "What else are we Gryffindors good for?"
