Revised AN: I removed the long, old, opening AN. You're welcome. This is an hour or so later than I would have like to post, but I had unexpected company over. Also, a heads up, I've finally E-published some stuff in my original setting; for those who are interested, there's a link on my profile page, though this is the stuff I actually charge for. Please feed the author!
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Chapter 4
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Harry joined the whispering crowd in the stairwell, and climbed partway onto the banister in order to see what had their attention. He saw the corpse of the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, laid out on the second floor landing. None of the other students cared to approach the cat too closely, instead preferring to gawk.
"Excuse me," Harry said, and began pushing his way through the crowd as politely as he could manage, until he reached the small clear space around Mrs. Norris.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE, THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS OPENS ONCE MORE!
After making careful mental note of the specific wording, as well as style of writing, Harry bent over to check on the cat. He first held his hand over the cat's nostrils, then after finding no sign of breathing, waved his wand over the cat in a few random gestures, and mumbled under his breath. The gestures and words did nothing but establish a plausible cover should he need it, while he carefully swept a tendril of his magic around, and then through, the cat's corpse. The corpse was practically overflowing with some form of malignant, dark magic, and Harry withdrew his hand, carefully to avoid actually touching the creature.
"And what are you doing, Potter?" The silky hiss of Severus Snape's voice sounded.
"Attempting to determine the cause of death, sir," Harry said, tone carefully neutral, as he resisted the urge to look at the professor, "It appears to be magical, as there is no sign of physical trauma, asphyxiation, or drowning. Poison is possible, but seems unlikely, as Mister Filch feeds his pet personally, and it would seem pointless to go to great lengths to poison a cat with a poison that does not leave obvious trace. Disease is also possible but unlikely, but I have heard nothing of Misses Norris showing any symptoms prior to this point."
Snape stared silently at Harry, but it was some time before he said anything.
"Very good, Potter," Snape said eventually, "Your head of house will be arriving shortly to handle this."
And with that, he left. Harry was so shocked that he froze for a moment; this interaction was nothing like anything he had found any reason to expect of Snape thus far, and he was uncertain…
Ah, Harry thought, McGonagall's influence. The Scotswoman did hold authority over Snape as the Deputy Headmistress. Turning at the sound of approaching footsteps, Harry saw McGonagall approaching, already opening her mouth to ask him what was going on. After a couple minutes to fill McGonagall in on what he had already told Snape, the senior professor turned to look down at the dead cat, frowning severely.
"Mister Filch will be most upset," McGonagall said, "This could simply be, and most likely is the work of an overly vindictive student, taking revenge on the caretaker," She sighed, before continuing, "Still, no point in taking chances."
With a flick of her wand, she levitated the cat's corpse into the air, and began moving towards the infirmary.
"Save for Mister Potter or Prefects," McGonagall said as the crowd moved to follow her, "None of you are to follow me."
"Why does Harry get to go with?" Someone in the crowd asked.
"Because he did something useful, rather than stand around gawking foolishly," McGonagall said.
Grumbling, the crowd dispersed, save for a pair of prefects following McGonagall. None of the other students noticed that Harry had remained at the site where the cat was found, inspecting the surrounding corridor and other rooms. It took Harry nearly half an hour to find the shred of leathery green material wedged into one of the banister joints of the stairwell, but Harry was certain that its strong magical signature meant it was most likely the clue he was looking for. He still spent another half hour searching for other clues, before heading to the Owlery to contact Hermione.
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"Definitely some form of snake," Daniel Trent, Professor of Herpetology, said, "Big bugger too. Don't suppose you've got a larger sample?"
"Sorry," Hermione said, shaking her head even though the professor was in the process of inserting the shred of scale into a microscope and focusing it.
"A shame," Trent said, "Judging by the proportions, this blighter is at least fifteen meters long."
"Fifteen meters?" Hermione said faintly, going distinctly white.
"Yeah," Trent said, not noticing the change in Hermione's tone, "I'd give it a margin of error of about three meters, but he's a big blighter, whatever exactly he ends up at. Where did you say you got this?"
"A friend who needs a warning," Hermione said, dashing out of the laboratory.
((()))
"Oy, Harry," George Weasley said quietly, and Harry's attention immediately focused on the Weasley's voice.
Harry quickly looked up and down the corridor he had been walking through, but was unable to spot the Weasley. Sweeping a quick magical probe of the corridor did not reveal anything either, and Harry dropped into a wary stance, drawing his wand. A wry chuckle drew his attention again, and Harry trained his wand on the source of the sound. A moment later, there was a ripple in the air, and a pair of red-headed twins appeared, one pulling an invisibility cloak to his side.
"'Lo Harry," The other twin said, smiling broadly "Glad you're out again, we had the whole Quidditch team and some of the Prefects with us, but still weren't sure if we'd be able to break you out. This is your cloak, innit?"
"Yes," Harry said warily, lowering his wand, but keeping it in his hand.
"'S awesome," The first twin said, tossing it to Harry, "Found it on the stairs in the dorm the night you attacked Dumbledore."
"We made some discreet inquiries," The second twin said, "Nobody seemed to be missing it, and you were the only one we couldn't ask, until you got out on Tuesday."
Harry raised the cloak in front of him, carefully inspecting it while he could still see the twins, albeit distorted, through its near-transparent material. He also probed the cloak heavily with his magic, but in neither case could he find anything changed from what he already knew of it. So, after stowing his wand, he carefully folded it, then placed it into his pocket, not looking away from the Weasleys the entire time.
"You saw my attack on Dumbledore?" He eventually said.
"Mate," The first twin said, "Most of Gryffindor saw it."
"You really think you can make that much noise without people noticin'?" The second twin asked.
Harry frowned almost imperceptibly. I should have thought of this, he realized, such loss of control is unacceptable.
"I suppose I was somewhat preoccupied at the time," Harry said evenly.
Both the twins snorted; one rolled his eyes.
"Fair enough, mate," The second twin said, "Anyways, we'd like to make a deal with you."
"You let us borrow the cloak sometimes," The first twin said, "And we'll let you borrow something right useful of ours."
"What would that be?" Harry asked.
The first twin grinned, pulling out an old piece of parchment.
"It's called," He said dramatically, "The Marauders' map…"
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When Harry found Luna Lovegood the first time, she was having tea with the inhabitants of one of the castle's portraits. The girl had her own teapot and cup, and was sitting on a picnic blanket, while the occupants of the portrait did likewise in their illustrated meadow. Harry paid it a few moments of attention as he passed the girl in the corridor, since it was a highly unusual occurrence, but ultimately determined it was of no particular importance to him, and continued down the corridor.
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Harry was alone, so he allowed the fierce grin he felt within to roll across his face. Placed before him, on the floor of an unused classroom, was the Marauders Map, showing a far more complete map of Hogwarts than any he'd seen before. An extensive array of secret passages, both within, and leading out of the castle and grounds, were clearly marked, and would be quite useful. More importantly, however, every living creature with a name was shown, and labeled. Harry's grin passed beyond 'fierce' and into 'terrifying.'
He could definitely make use of this.
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"Oy," Katie Bell said, "Harry, could we talk to you for a few minutes?"
Harry, who had been a little bit more than halfway across the common room on his way out, turned to face the Chaser, and saw that the rest of the Quidditch team was seated together. They had unusually somber expressions on their faces, which Harry found made him hesitant to join them. As he could not think of a legitimate reason not to, however, he walked across to the set of couches they were at, and sat down slightly apart from the others.
"Harry," Katie said softly, "You've probably heard by now, that most of the house saw your fight with Dumbledore, and that McGonagall explained why afterwards."
Harry nodded, keeping his expression carefully blank.
"Well," Katie said carefully, "She told us that your uncle was in prison for thirty years for child abuse, but said that the details were private. She only told us as much as she did because she wanted us to understand that you weren't attacking without reason, and that even men like Dumbledore make mistakes, and they can have really nasty consequences. She said that if she heard about us swarming you and asking 'impolite and invasive questions' the whole lot of us would be in trouble. We already know you're a very private person, it's hard to miss with how you behave all the time, but just wanted to let you know that since we're not only housemates, but also teammates, if you ever do want to talk about any of that stuff, or have any questions about the Wizarding world since you grew up muggle, we're here."
The other two chasers nodded emphatically, the Weasley twins grinned broadly, while Wood just looked at Harry. Harry sat, his control slightly strained, as he tried to figure out just what the emotional response that had been evoked within him meant. Half a minute later, he was no closer to figuring it out, and it was becoming disturbingly difficult to maintain his neutral expression.
"Thank you for your offer," Harry said, standing, "I am not certain how to respond to it, but must attend to other things now. Goodbye."
He left.
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"A snake, estimated length of forty-nine feet, with a sixteen foot margin of error," Harry said, "Considering the condition of the cat, Hermione thinks it is most likely a Basilisk."
McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair before opening her eyes to gaze across her desk at Harry.
"That would be consistent with Salazar Slytherin's affinity for snakes," She said eventually, "And considering both the near-limitless lifespan, and the powerful natural magics possessed by Basilisks, it would certainly be the sort of creature Slytherin would place within the chamber."
Harry nodded, but said nothing, watching the deputy headmistress carefully. It was some time before she spoke again.
"Unfortunately," McGonagall said, "I cannot send the students away to safety based upon the suspicion of such a thing, especially considering how the Wizarding world would regard such evidence from a muggle source. This still could be nothing more than a wretched prank, even if I am all but certain it is not."
"What will you do then?" Harry asked, carefully keeping the disappointment from his voice.
"I will use a cat's-paw," McGonagall said with a wry smile, "And work with the rest of the faculty to attempt to keep the student population safe. In the meantime, I will require students to move in groups, with a prefect, in order to minimize the chances of a random encounter."
"Or raise the number of casualties in such an encounter," Harry said quietly.
"A genuine risk," McGonagall said gravely, "But I am lacking in better options. The only wizard here who would have any real chance of defeating a Basilisk of such age is professor Dumbledore, and he cannot be everywhere at once. Until I can justify either bringing in Auror teams, or evacuating the school, this is really all I can do within the bounds of the rules."
Harry stiffened slightly at her words, something she did not fail to notice.
"However," McGonagall continued, "I am quite aware that you will not be content with such measures yourself, nor to be inactive while such a creature is almost certainly on the loose within the school. So, I will tell you this: The most important thing right now, is to discover where the Chamber of Secrets is. If we know where it is, we can either take control of it, or bar the creature's access to the school."
Harry nodded at her implied suggestion, not allowing himself to show the fierce exultation within, that confused as well as excited him.
"One other thing," McGonagall said, opening one of her desk drawers "Before we are done tonight, Harry. I realized, recently, that you are probably not aware that your parents left an inheritance for you. I have acquired the key to your trust vault from Gringotts from the Headmaster."
She extended a small key to Harry, who took it.
"The Potter family, while not known for their wealth," McGonagall said, "Were comfortably well off. I believe you will make responsible use of the wealth this makes available to you."
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Harry said.
"You're welcome, Mister Potter," McGonagall said, and nodded towards the door to indicate he was dismissed.
On his way back to the Gryffindor dormitories, Harry realized he had never had enough money before, to wonder what the appropriate thing to do with it was. Perhaps he could acquire the tools necessary to cut into the box he had acquired at the end of last year…
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Harry fought the rising anger within him, fought it hard. It was a difficult fight, but he knew it was necessary; Hermione had done a great deal for him, and he could not afford to make a habit of losing control at those who angered him; anger was too easily a tool in his enemy's hands. Harry returned his attention to the letter from Hermione.
…So I told her how she could find out for herself. I didn't even hint at what I know about what you've been covering in private study, and Professor McGonagall didn't ask. I'll understand if you feel betrayed by what I did tell her, and understand if you don't want to be pen pals with me anymore. I hope you'll still let me help you with your studies and other research, but I know you value your privacy a great deal, and if you don't feel safe letting me know what you're looking into anymore, I'll understand.
-Sincerely, Hermione Granger.
Anger warred with the need for clear thought within him, and after nearly a minute of turbulent indecision, Harry chose to head to the edge of the forbidden forest, and practice his blasting curses. Forcibly.
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Harry 'patrolled' the night. Functionally, this meant positioning himself in an abandoned classroom on the sixth floor of the castle, near the core staircase, so that he would have access to the stairwell, and from there most of the castle as quickly as possible. While his eyes were on the map, Harry practiced his wandless magic and blind awareness, summoning and banishing a set of fist-sized bean-bags from outside of his range of vision. He nearly gave himself away when he accidentally summoned a desk, which was not quiet.
Harry decided to add learning to control the proportion of power he put into his spell to his training regimen.
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Hermione, Harry wrote, Thank you for being honest with me about your conversation with McGonagall. I apologize for taking a week to respond, but I needed some time to put my thoughts in order. While I do feel betrayed by your disclosure of information to Professor McGonagall, I agree that it was the rational course of behavior, and considering how Professor McGonagall has used that information, I cannot fault your judgment in who to trust with it. Dumbledore was holding me captive. Professor McGonagall convinced him to release me, and further, to resign as headmaster of Hogwarts. As to allowing you to assist me, I am more than willing to do so, your skill as a researcher, and raw intellectual capacity, far surpasses my own.
Thank you, for your past, present, and continuing assistance in my studies and research.
-Sincerely, Harry Potter.
P.S. The enclosed key contains access to a Gringotts vault that should have adequate funds to aid your research. I trust your judgement in using them appropriately, but please do not exhaust more than half of them without consulting me.
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"I suppose you wish to know why I informed your housemates of your personal history," McGonagall said evenly.
Harry took a small sip of tea, then placed his cup back on the table that lay between them.
"Yes," He said simply.
"The reasoning behind my decision is twofold," McGonagall said, "Firstly, I decided that it was in both your, and your housemates', best interest that they not fear you, and informing them of the reason behind your actions was the most effective way I was aware of to prevent them from fearing you. Secondly, it was both a combat situation, and an emotionally charged situation, and I am prone to making snap judgments in such situations, both as a matter of training, and natural inclination."
Harry nodded slowly, taking another sip before responding.
"Training," He said, "I assume, to remain in motion, to continue to act, in combat, as a matter of instinct?"
McGonagall nodded.
"I was but a child when Grindlewald was defeated," She said, "But I have some memory of those times, and when Voldemort made his bid for power, I made certain I was amongst those who stood against him. It is also because of this training that I recognize what you are doing to yourself, Mister Potter."
Harry responded to her words with an inquisitive expression, but no words of his own.
"Mister Potter," McGonagall paused for a moment, "Harry," She continued, "I see the way you move, I remember the knife you killed the troll with, and when thinking about your fight against Dumbledore, your wandless magic there was not accidental, it was deliberate, if crude. You are training yourself, training yourself, effectively, for war."
Harry said nothing, simply continuing to stare silently at McGonagall.
"Why?" McGonagall said eventually, "Is it because of how your parents died?"
Harry looked away, and a moment later, spoke.
"Something like that," He said quietly.
McGonagall sighed.
"I don't like remaining in the dark, Mister Potter," McGonagall said, "But if you do not wish to tell me, that is your right. I do hope you'll tell me at some point or another, though."
Harry nodded quietly, and they spoke of it no more that evening.
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The second time Harry found Luna Lovegood was in early December, and he located her wandering the castle shortly after eleven at night on the marauder's map. It took him a few minutes to reach her from where he was 'patrolling,' and he chose to shadow and observe her from beneath his invisibility cloak. It fairly quickly became obvious to him, that she was idly moving from portrait to portrait, engaging those that were not sleeping in idle conversation. He thought it odd that she seemed to be wearing a full cloak indoors, until he realized that it was the only thing she was wearing.
When she started inspecting abandoned classrooms, looking for a place to sleep, Harry came to the conclusion that the odds of her being the suspected Basilisk's secret master were functionally nonexistent. After taking a moment to make sure he wasn't missing something obvious, Harry took off his cloak and approached the girl.
"Hello," Harry said softly as he neared her.
"Hello," The girl said dreamily, turning to face Harry, "What can I do for you Mister Potter?"
Harry raised an eyebrow; while he habitually referred to other students formally, he was not accustomed to receiving such forms of address himself.
"I was wondering, Miss Lovegood," Harry said courteously, "Why you were out and about in the castle so late."
"Oh," Luna said absently, turning back to the empty classroom she had been inspecting, "They wouldn't let me in the tower, so I had to find somewhere else to sleep."
"Well," Harry said, and Luna flinched at the deep current of tranquil fury that suddenly ran through Harry's voice, "I shall have to ask you to lead me to Ravenclaw tower, so that I may have words with 'them.'"
Luna turned to face Harry, fully this time, and much more slowly, wide fearful eyes taking him in. Harry realized, when he met her eyes, and saw the fear in them, that he was literally trembling with rage, and forcefully banked it down. It did not diminish, or recede, it was simply pushed beneath the surface. The fear also receded from within Luna's eyes, though her body-posture indicated a wary hesitance.
"If you would lead, Miss Lovegood," Harry said, with a tensely level voice, "I am not particularly familiar with Ravenclaw Tower."
Five minutes later, they stood in front of the entrance to the Ravenclaw dormitory.
"I'm sorry dear," A portrait Harry was not familiar with said to Luna, "But I still need an answer to Paternoster's Pecunarium before I can let you in."
"Paternoster's Pecunarium?" Harry asked politely.
"A Riddle from 1201 AD," The Portrait said, "Rather infamous for its insolvability. Five men claimed to have solved it, but none of them were willing to share what the solution was."
"And why do you require this riddle of a first year?" Harry asked, Luna trembling slightly as the tightly leashed rage began to rise in Harry's voice again, barely veiled beneath his attempt to maintain his customary even tone of voice.
"One of the fifth years has charmed me to require it," The Portrait said uncomfortably.
"Their name."
There was nothing but harsh command and fury in Harry's voice now, and the Lovegood girl was shivering.
"I'm sorry," The Portrait said, "I literally cannot tell you that."
"I see," Harry said, then paused for a moment, eyes closed as he took a deep breath, before continuing, "In that case, I recommend you leave your portrait to visit someone else, because I am about to force entry into the tower."
The Portrait raised an eyebrow at Harry. Harry responded by drawing his wand.
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Filius Flitwick awoke to a thunderous crash, and the sound of wood splintering. Not a sound he expected to, or wanted to, hear coming from within his house's dormitory, but spell misfires did happen. For a moment, he considered leaving whatever it was to the prefects, but guilty responsibility drove him out of his bed and into his bathrobe, then out the door to the Ravenclaw dormitories.
The first thing Flitwick noticed on his approach to the dormitory, was that the portrait that customarily guarded it was no longer in place; its frame shattered, the canvas itself missing. Flitwick's mood shifted from slightly frustrated, to deathly serious, and he leapt through the opened entryway, storming (as much as a man of his stature could), into the Ravenclaw dormitory, and immediately sizing up the situation. What he found, was not what he had expected. The first thing he noticed, was a trembling blond first year, wearing nothing, nothing, but her cloak. The second thing he noticed, was that though both the sixth year, and one of the seventh year prefects, were present, they appeared to be shocked into immobility.
The third, and most important thing he noticed, was Harry Potter standing over the female fifth year Ravenclaw prefect, his right foot planted on her left shoulder, pinning the slender girl to the floor. Also, his wand was pressed against the center of her forehead.
"You lie," Harry said quietly, his low voice somehow drawing out just how quiet the rest of the room had become.
The girl sneered up at him, spitting in his face, which he completely ignored.
"You'll be in suspension for the rest of the year for this, Potter," She said, her voice positively dripping with disdain.
"Perhaps," Harry said with a terrible calm, "But you will be expelled."
Filius Flitwick, who no man or women of any real intellect would mistake for being unintelligent, decided to hold his intervention until either something dangerous happened, or he understood more clearly what was happening.
"And how do you figure that, Potter?" The girl said, "Just because you accuse me of something, doesn't mean it's true, and you've just broken into the Ravenclaw dormitory and attacked a Prefect in front of witnesses."
"Because you are lying," Harry said, "You reveal it in your body language, your facial expression, and your tone of voice. There are truth serums, legilimency, and other means to prove your guilt as necessary, and once it has been proven that you, as a Prefect, have been stealing a first year's possessions, and locking her out of the dormitories in December with nothing but a cloak to wear, the Hogwarts Faculty will find that expulsion is the only appropriate punishment."
The girl rolled her eyes, and attempted to reach for her wand; Flitwick readied himself to disarm the prefect. Flitwick's intervention abruptly became unnecessary, when a rather large steel knife of obviously Muggle manufacture pinned the arm of the girl's robes to the common room floor. Flitwick blinked; he had not even seen Harry move to plant the knife.
"Trying to attack a student?" Harry said mildly, "Not very good behavior on the part of a Prefect, Harry said, "Especially considering I've not threatened you with any physical harm myself."
The girl spat on his face again, and Harry laughed.
"Oh yes," Harry said, "All the witnesses will tell of how maturely you handled being accused by a second year, clearly the sort of behavior of someone who is too mature to mercilessly bully a first year."
Harry stopped laughing abruptly, grabbed the much larger girl by her collar with his free hand, and jerked her up until she was directly even with his face.
"Let me make something perfectly clear," Harry said, voice full of cold intent, "I do not abide bullies. You're a pathetic creature, I don't even care what your name is, it isn't worth me knowing. You're a fifth year, and a Prefect, so clearly you have some potential, but instead of making something out of yourself, you've made yourself into scum. Apparently, you pick on first years, because as I've just
shown, second years, are too much for you."
Harry shoved her back to the floor, and looked up to glare at the other students.
"I don't know how many of the rest of you were aware of this, and did nothing," He said, "But let me make something abundantly clear, this is your only warning. If I find Miss Lovegood suffering from bullying again, or anybody else for that matter, I will be back, and next time I will hold you all responsible."
The girl beneath Harry went for her wand again, with her other arm, and Harry stunned her silently, without even looking at her. He glared harshly at the assembled Ravenclaws for a long moment, before reaching down and ripping the unconscious girl's cloak off, and taking it over to the still-trembling Lovegood girl.
"I'll be taking care of Miss Lovegood now," Harry said, wrapping the cloak around the trembling girl, "I'll leave the rest of you to your head of house."
He whispered something in the girl's ear, and she led him off towards the girl's dormitories.
"Ahem," Flitwick said, gathering the attention of his students, his tone and gaze painfully sharp "Mister Potter may not be interested in who else knew of this, but I most certainly am, and while you can be certain I will be having words with him about his behavior tonight later, I will be having words with all of my Prefects, now."
((()))
Hermione smiled, a small, but deep thing, as she read her latest letter from Harry. It had started a couple of months ago, but was constant now; Harry referred to her as 'Hermione,' not 'Miss Granger.' As far as she knew, she was the only person Harry addressed by first name, rather than last with title. It gave her hope that she was making progress with Harry. She had begun telling him about things other than just what she had been researching for him in her letters a month ago, and was slowly, carefully increasing the 'social' content of her letters. Her next step, would be to invite Harry to come visit over Christmas; she intended to ask him next week.
She was also eager to show him the fruits of her now well-funded research.
((()))
Harry searched the night. He spent every other night 'patrolling' with the map, and the alternate nights tracking down the singular names he found moving about the map, discovering a great number of cats that students kept as pets, and, to his surprise, Hogwarts staff of house-elves. By the end of his second week on patrol, he had identified every cat, and the occasional toad that had decided to wander, and received a list of all the house-elves' names from 'Tippy.' He was already familiar with many of the castle ghosts, but discovered that several, such as Moaning Myrtle, were tied to specific locations, and had spent some time tracking them down, and making a list of their names, in case he forgot.
He was paying for his use of the map by lending his cloak to the Weasley twins for the entirety of every weekend, but he considered it well worth the exchange, even if he did not like losing his stealth option for two days out of the week. For two weekends, the issue was irrelevant, as he spent them in detention with Flitwick for the excessive force he'd used in Ravenclaw tower, but as the 'detention' sessions essentially turned into private tutoring with the charms master, he figured he's come out ahead, in the end.
((()))
Dear Harry, the letter read, I was wondering if you'd be willing to come visit for Christmas hols…
((()))
Harry began to notice a slight increase in how swiftly his control over his magic was developing, and spent an entire weekend experimenting with his magic to discern why. He determined that with his magical power growing, he no longer had to strain to effectively produce wandless magic. Much like overall physical dexterity, as his control overall was developing, it was less difficult for him to master the new pattern of magic for each spell without the crutch of his wand.
As an experiment, Harry decided to try learning an entirely new spell, and focus on it almost exclusively with his training. He selected 'Reducto' for his experiment.
((()))
Hermione felt a mixture of disappointment, and elation. Harry had turned down her offer to visit, saying that he intended to spend the time over break searching certain sections of the school that he normally could not because they were occupied during the term, but it sounded to Hermione like a polite excuse. On the other hand, he had addressed his letter to 'Dear Hermione.' She couldn't help but smile, thinking of that.
Maybe she wasn't getting him to open up very quickly, but at least progress was being made.
((()))
Near Christmas, Harry determined he had the Reducto curse adequately mastered. It had taken him a month, give or take a day or two, to be able to cast the spell wandlessly as quickly as he could with his wand. His 'patrols' still had not found anything, and he had to constantly remind himself that they were more than training time, and pay attention to the map. He had come across several false leads, that turned out to only be students pranking, sneaking away to the kitchen, or doing things he was sure he'd understand better when he had passed through puberty.
The only possible lead left he had was some kid hanging around the Gryffindor dorms he'd never met before, 'Peter Pettigrew.'
((()))
'Peter Pettigrew' was a rat. It did not take much of a leap of logic for Harry to recognize the rat as an Animagus. The only real question then, was why was an Animagus hiding out as a second-year Hogwarts student's pet?
((()))
"Peter Pettigrew, you say?" McGonagall said, her lips going tight in a way Harry had come to recognize as an indicator that she was very displeased.
"Yes," Harry said, handing over the unconscious rat, "I stunned him while he was sleeping on Ron's bed. I assumed, as professor of Transfiguration, and an Animagus yourself, you would know how to determine if my suspicions are correct."
McGonagall nodded sharply, taking the rat from Harry, and then placing it on the floor of the abandoned classroom they were within.
"I approve of your spell selection," McGonagall said, examining the rat carefully, "Stupefy is an excellent spell, though it is usually not taught until fifth year, it allows one a great deal of latitude in dealing with foes, rather than being forced to take more permanent solutions when they may not be genuinely necessary. Please, be ready to cast the spell again, as reverting an Animagus to human form is likely to wake them."
Harry nodded, and raised his wand. McGonagall made a series of sharp gestures with her own, and with a ripple of expanding flesh, there was a portly balding man where the rat had been a moment ago. A man with open, startled eyes, who was the swift beneficiary of a stunning spell. Harry calmly lowered his wand, while McGonagall, her grip on her wand having become white-knuckled, lowered hers, her hands trembling. Harry was surprised by this, having thought McGonagall far too solid a woman to be afraid or shocked by such a development, but when he looked to her face, he realized she wasn't trembling with fear or nerves.
She was trembling with rage.
"Well," She said crisply, her enunciation excessively precise, "This explains a great deal."
With a flick of her wand, she levitated the unconscious Pettigrew's body up into the air, and proceeded with a painfully proper gait, out of the classroom.
"Come with me, Harry," She said, "We have a great many wrongs to set right."
Harry followed, impressed despite himself, by the sheer aura of purpose that McGonagall projected. He had never seen anything like it before, never seen anyone with such intensity that it made him think that just maybe, perhaps, they possessed more sheer force of will than he did. It both excited and scared him.
"Peter Pettigrew," McGonagall said, as they proceeded through the castle corridors, "Was supposedly killed by your godfather, Sirius Black. Two months ago, when I visited Miss Granger concerning your history with the Dursleys, she informed me that Sirius Black had never received a trial, or that if he had, it was not on record, yet was still sent to prison. I have since been contacting some of my former students who work for the Ministry, asking them to look into the affair, but had not yet discovered anything more than what Miss Granger had. This, however," She said, and for a moment, razor-edged fury raised in her voice, before she regained control, "Explains a great deal."
Then McGonagall turned a corner, turned to stone, and her glasses shattered. Harry's combat reflexes screamed, and he threw himself down and to the side of the corridor, whipping out his invisibility cloak and wrapping it around himself.
"Mmmm…mmeeeeaaat…" A hissing voice said, and Harry's eyes narrowed.
The voice sounded entirely too much like a snake, and Harry sized up the situation. It took him a fraction of a second for him to link the myths of muggles about a Basilisk's gaze petrifying people, McGonagall's glasses shattering, and her turning to stone, with the Basilisk's actual ability to kill people with its gaze. Creeping forward quietly, Harry peeked around the corner, carefully looking directly at the floor, and using only his peripheral vision to see what lay beyond.
He turned the corner just in time to see Pettigrew's unconscious body disappear into a massive snake's mouth, swallowed whole. The snake spent a few seconds swallowing the unconscious Animagus, which Harry took advantage of by preparing the most effective means of fighting a Basilisk, without being able to lay ambush, that he'd been able to devise. Without carrying around a conspicuous weight of high explosives, anyway.
The snake turned its attention to McGonagall, and sniffed at her curiously.
"Ssstone thisss one," It said, "But someone else, I still smell, who is it, I wonder?"
Harry remained still and silent for a moment, thinking, before deciding to speak.
"Do you understand me, Basillisk?" He asked calmly, noticing to some surprise that his voice came out as a series of hissing and snapping sounds.
"Yeeesss sspeaker," The snake said, "I ssmell you and hear you. What do you want?"
"I want to know why you are attacking," Harry said/
"The Heir demandsss it," The snake said, "And I am bound to obey."
"And if you were not bound?" Harry asked.
"I would hunt in the foressst," The snake said, "As I have for centuries."
"How does one break the binding?" Harry asked.
"I do not know," The snake said, "It iss in the sstatue, I do not underssstand Wizard magicsss."
Harry nodded, though the snake could not see it.
"I will try to break this magic," Harry said, then withdrew quietly down the hall.
The snake sniffed about the hallway a few times, stared at McGonagall's petrified form for a moment, then turned and began to retreat. As it moved, Harry began to realize just how massive the creature was. 'Fifteen meters' was a big number in abstract, but in real life… It seemed to take the thing forever to turn around, more and more of its muscular coils sliding past him on their way back the way the snake had come. Eventually though, it completed its turn, and Harry took off in pursuit, following it down the castle corridors.
Into the second floor girl's bathroom. Harry groaned internally; he had not liked intruding into a female's bathroom the first time, to speak with Moaning Myrtle, it was not something he was going to enjoy the second time either.
"Open…" The snake hissed, its deep voice barely audible from outside the bathroom.
The massive serpent rapidly slithered into the bathroom, and Harry silently followed, finding that one of the sinks had been moved aside, revealing a secret passage that was, thus far, not visible on the Marauders Map. Moving quickly, Harry reached the entrance, and found that it was essentially a pipe, and a rather filthy one at that. Thankful like never before for his cloak's inherent resistance to being soiled, Harry maneuvered rather awkwardly to ride his cloak down the tunnel, waiting until he no longer heard the Basilisk moving within it, before allowing himself to slide down.
Belatedly, he cast a silencing spell as he neared the bottom, narrowly avoiding giving his location away as he skidded across a silent, dark cave floor. Once he had come to a stop, he dropped his silence spell, and listened carefully. Hearing the massive snake recede further into the darkness, Harry paused for a moment to think. The snake clearly could navigate through the total darkness without difficulty, whether this was due to familiarity or thermal vision, he was uncertain, but he was all but certain it would detect any light he attempted to use to follow it. Harry made a mental note to research a charm that allowed him to see in the dark.
Before he managed to divine an effective method of pursuing the snake through the dark, Harry heard the snake say 'open' again, which triggered a low, grinding rumble that caused the stone and bone floor Harry lay upon to tremble slightly. Harry held himself utterly still, save for his silent breath, listening as the snake's slithering continued, even after the rumbling sound ended, then started again. He waited five full minutes in the ensuing silence, before determining that risking light was necessary.
"Lumos," Harry said quietly, shielding his eyes from direct line of sight with the tip of his wand.
The spell's light was almost drowned in the enormity of the underground cavern, a massive space that was littered with the bones of rats and other small creatures. Harry carefully stood, his dilated eyes straining in the low light, and eventually was able to follow the Basilisk's trail through the barely-lit cavern. He arrived at a massive door, engraved with serpents, that stretched from the floor to the ceiling of the chamber's wall; Harry was not certain if it was designed to be intimidating, pander to someone's ego, or both. Either way, it was certainly imposing.
"Open," Harry commanded the doors, and was not terribly surprised when they failed to heed his command.
After a few moments of thought, Harry focused his attention on the engraved serpents, and spoke again.
"Open," He said, but this time his voice emerged in a series of hisses and clicks.
This time, the massive doors did as he bade, slowly opening inwards. Harry wasted no time in moving through the doorway, playing his magical light back and forth before him, and keeping his gaze low. This chamber was less of a cavern, and more of a stone hall, and unlike the cavern, there was no littering of bones across the floor. There was, however, another person making use of a light spell. Harry immediately extinguished his own spell, stepping aside to look at the other source of light, seeing….
Ginevra Weasley. That he had not expected. Eyes narrowing as he quietly maneuvered himself out of the massive doorway, he studied the diminutive redhead, and almost immediately came to the conclusion she was possessed. She did not stand like an eleven year old girl, her harsh expression did not suit an eleven year old girl, and the book in her hand was so blatantly tainted magic that he could sense it as soon as he made the slightest effort to do so.
"Who is there?" The girl said, even her voice sounding as though it was being used in ways that were unnatural, "Has another of Slytherin's Line found the Chamber?"
Harry silently approached the possessed girl, remaining beneath his cloak.
"While I applaud your caution in remaining concealed," The girl continued in her distorted tone, "There is no need to fear me, for I hold no animosity towards others of Slytherin's line."
Harry continued to approach, as the girl began to cast a series of silent charms. Harry took note of the wand motions, to study them later. Once he was within ten feet of the wary girl, he allowed the tip of his wand to protrude from beneath the cloak, and cast a silent stunner. Cast at point blank range, the girl had no chance to dodge, and took the full force of the stunner, dropping unconscious immediately. Harry quickly crossed the remaining distance between them, and kicked the book out of her hand. Her entire body spasmed for a moment, before going still again, and Harry warily eyed the book. Unsure of what else to do, and unwilling to touch the artifact, Harry settled for using transfiguration to first shape a hole into the floor of the chamber, then close it up again after levitating the book into it, leaving a simple mark over the location.
Then, Harry turned his attention to the massive statue of Salazar Slytherin that dominated the chamber. With the diary buried, it was not difficult to sense the magic rolling off of it; it was older and far more powerful, which made him uneasy, even if it was nowhere near as twisted as the diary had been. Steeling himself, Harry walked over, and laid his hand upon the statue.
Magic. All throughout the statue, anchored to it, worked into it, bound into the castle's wards, and extending to touch something else, that Harry strongly suspected was the Basilisk. Harry spent several minutes feeling his way through the magic in the statue, not at all surprised to discover that its magic was far more complex and powerful than anything he was even remotely capable of. Fortunately, he also felt no obligation to tackle it all at once, and instead, followed the strands to the castle's wards, and began testing them experimentally. As he suspected, they turned out to be the source of power sustaining the statue's enchantment. Focusing his power tightly, he tore them apart, one by one, until none remained.
It was more difficult than he expected, but he was attacking only a small part of the enchantment as a whole, with the entirety of his own power, and it simply could not hold up to the disparity in focus. Once he had cut off the enchantment's source of immediate power, he examined the single connection between the magic in the statue, and what he assumed was the Basilisk. It was a single connecting strand, and far more robust. Harry frowned, and decided it would be better to check on the Weasley girl before attempting something that might exhaust him.
Harry did not want to chance the Basilisk's return before he freed it, but was fairly certain that leaving a recently possessed girl untended for too long was a bad idea. Crossing the short distance to Ginny Weasley's unconscious body, Harry checked her pulse, breathing, and overall body temperature. She seemed unnaturally cool, but was also warming noticeably. He extended a probe and touched her magic with his, something he abruptly realized he had never done with a person before, when he made contact and found unexpected results.
The girl's magic responded to him actively, repulsing his probe with a strong flavor of fear. Considering the artifact that had been possessing her, Harry was not surprised. He could detect no residual taint from the book, however, so did not try to initiate contact again. Seeing that she was apparently in reasonably good shape, Harry levitated her to the edge of the chamber, out of the way in case he had to fight the Basilisk. Then he turned his attention back to the statue. He spent a few minutes trying to figure out the enchantments on it again, but was forced to conclude, again, that it was far beyond his abilities to sort out.
Forming up his magic and will, he attacked the tendril that he thought led to the Basilisk with everything he had. For a moment, it stretched, strained, then all at once it snapped. The statue trembled slightly, but there was no other immediately noticeable effect. Harry waited for nearly five minutes for other, more delayed effects to make themselves known, then levitated the still-unconscious body of Ginny Weasley again, carefully collected the cursed journal, and made his way back towards the surface.
((()))
When Harry finally reached the bathroom again, nearly an hour later, he was thoroughly drenched in filth, and feeling more than slightly irritable. He had resorted to transfiguring steps up the pipe, which was a taxing process, especially while maintaining his levitation of the Weasley girl. His primary irritation, however, came from the fact that the best plan he had been able to come up with thus far, was to go to Professor Flitwick with what he had found. His first choice, McGonagall, was currently not available, and he did not like the way his heart ached thinking about why.
It was well past one AM, when Harry arrived at Flitwick's door, the levitated Weasley still in tow. Harry briefly considered a few cleaning charms before he knocked, but decided that his disheveled appearance would lend urgency to his story. After mentally ordering himself and his agenda, Harry firmly knocked on the professor's door three times. Thirty seconds later, he did so again.
After nearly a minute's delay, the door opened and the tiny professor peered out at Harry.
"This looks to be quite the story, Mister Potter," Flitwick said, eyebrows rising, "Why don't you come in and tell me about it."
Harry did.
((()))
"O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible; and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands."
-Sun Tzu, Art of War, Chapter 6, Section 9.
End Chapter 4
((()))
(Old) Author's Note:
It's a good thing I write some pretty climactic personal confrontations, because with Harry's utilitarian mentality, almost all the early 'fight' climaxes are turning out very anticlimactic.
This is the last chapter that includes pre-written material; only maybe the first page or two was written before the previous chapter was posted. Between computer death experienced in the last week, and loss of pre-written material, odds are decent the next chapter will be either considerably shorter, or perhaps posted in two weeks instead of one. I had thought to finish out second year with this chapter, but there was simply too much material to cover in less than 10k words, and I didn't get this far until Friday, so broke it off here.
Someone in a review asked about some of my remarks about isolationist behavior and etc. being particularly present in the USA, asking for quoted statistics or somesuch. My comments in these AN's are generally based entirely on personal observation and experience. I was born in the USA, but moved to the Middle East when I was four years old. My family spent a few years back in the states when I was in middle school, but I was back in the middle east for high school, and then came to the states for college, and have lived here ever since. In the middle east, I lived in Dubai, which is quite possibly the most multicultural city in the world, and had friends from every inhabited continent except for South America (there just weren't many South American's in Dubai, I think I may have met one in passing once). I suspect if I spent time in Europe, NZ, Australia, or the more culturally western parts of South Africa, I would find similar patterns of behavior, but I specifically mentioned the US, because it is where I have the most experience. I have seen at least parts of it in every culture I've run across, however.
I am no longer a student, but still live in the college town the school I went to is in, and have gotten to know at least a freshman or few from each successive class after me (five after me now), and have observed patterns of behavior, psychological development over time, etc. I also have a number of friends from around the world that I know over the internet, most of whom I met when I was in high school, and were a year or two younger than me. As some of you no doubt have also experienced, and most have probably met someone like, I am the sort of person that will just naturally, in the course of conversation, end up having people pour their life's story and/or issues out to sometimes. That, especially combined with knowing college students, both my contemporaries and senior students, as well as maintaining relationships with younger friends who were still finishing up high school, has taught me a great deal about the way the human psyche, or as it is sometimes less technically referred to, the human heart, works.
This story and the characters within it, are in large part an expression of what I see as one of the fundamental things tearing the society I live in, and other societies I've visited or have friends in, apart.