Chapter 25 – Speak With Forked Tongue

As far as Harry could tell, he could have been unconscious for a week when he finally opened his eyes. Ron and Hermione were the first faces he saw, closely followed by Ginny, who had been sitting at his bedside in the hospital wing holding his hand.

"Nice of you to join us," grinned Hermione, "How are you feeling?"

Harry blinked twice and brought the world into proper focus.

"Never been better" he groaned, "What happened?"

"Lockhart found you near McGonagall's office and brought you here," said Ron, "He said you'd fainted, and something about discussing it in your next lesson."

Harry groaned again. He would have preferred it if anyone else had found him, but he got the distinct impression that Lockhart wasn't very well versed in the differences between the practical use of Legilimency and a blatant invasion of privacy, and by now probably knew all that had been told by Dumbledore's portrait.

Ginny was giving him a look that could only say "Admit it; you really DO need looking after." If anyone else had looked at him that way, he would have treated it with cold resentment, but there was wisdom in her eyes that he couldn't just ignore. As the two of them exchanged glances, Hermione nudged Ron pointedly.

"Err, yeah," Ron mumbled, "Well, Madam Pomfrey said you'd be fine, so we'll leave you to get some rest for now. Be back later mate."

"Take care, Harry," smiled Hermione, and with that, they excused themselves from the wing.

The moment the door had closed behind them, Ginny leaned forward and kissed him. Hovering beside his ear, she spoke in a hushed and soothing voice.

"Now you can tell me what happened"

Though he wasn't altogether sure what happened himself, Harry wasn't about to keep anything from her if he could help it.

"I was in Professor McGonagall's study, talking to Dumbledore…well, his portrait anyway…and I just couldn't take in what he was telling me. I just felt so dizzy and confused, like I'd just been hit over the head with something. I remember getting downstairs, but I couldn't walk. Something happened to me…something strange. My brain just shut down, and then there was just blackness, nothing else."

Ginny stroked his hair softly and looked into his eyes with deep curiosity.

"What was it that Dumbledore told you?"

All of a sudden, Harry felt as though now was a time to be on his guard. He wanted to tell her; there was no reason why he shouldn't, but something inside was stopping him. Something didn't feel right.

"He told…he told me…" he began.

Ginny continued to stare at him enquiringly.

"Listen…could you fetch Professor Lockhart?" he decided, "I will tell you, it's just my head feels all strange again."

Slowly and reluctantly, Ginny left the room and returned a few minutes later with a slightly puzzled Gilderoy Lockhart. Just as he had been in Harry's second year at Hogwarts, Lockhart also looked somewhat apprehensive about being summoned on a matter of urgency.

"What seems to be the trouble, Potter," he asked, "I've been told you're not feeling too clever."

Harry looked nervously at him, his eyes occasionally wandering towards the girl at his side. There followed a gulf of silence, during which, only Ginny looked as though nothing was amiss, and Harry was signalling frantically with his eyes to the bemused professor. As Lockhart finally resorted to searching beyond the boy's eyes, he quickly turned his silent attention to Ginny, who was now looking more nervous than either of them. She slowly backed away, looking from one to the other.

"Harry?" she trembled, "Harry, what's g…?"

Lockhart had swiftly drawn his wand and performed a sleeping charm on her as the words were barely out of her mouth. He caught her before she hit the floor, hoisted her on to the neighbouring bed, then turned back to Harry, who was partly shocked, and partly ready to attack his Occlumency teacher.

"What did you…?"

"Harry, listen to me very carefully," Lockhart interrupted, motioning for him to stay put, "She'll be perfectly alright, but there are things I need to know from you before she wakes up. Firstly, has she been acting strangely at all before today?"

"Well…yes," Harry replied, realising that there would be little point in lying, "but today…just now…she was different. Like she seemed to be herself, but something told me that she wasn't."

"And what have you told her while she was like this? Has she questioned you at all? About anything?"

Lockhart appeared to be panicking more and more with each word that passed his lips.

"All I told her was how I felt when I left the Headmistress's study, and how I blacked out," said Harry, shaking his head in confusion, "Why, what's happened to her?"

Returning to the sleeping Ginny, Lockhart examined her eyes by the light of his wand, and attempted to provide Harry with an answer.

"Someone or something has a hold on her mind, and there's nothing amateur about it."

"Do you mean the Imperius Curse?" asked Harry in alarm.

"No, far more subtle," replied the professor, "and, if anything, more complex than the Imperius Curse. It has no control over her actions, but her mind has been laid open like a book, more so than it should be. In this instance, she is being used to gain information. What did she ask you?"

"She wanted to know what the portrait of Dumbledore had told me. I was going to tell her, but I couldn't help thinking that there was something wrong."

Lockhart returned to him thoughtfully.

"And indeed there was, Harry," he murmured, "Anything you disclosed to her would have been known by a third party, and this kind of magic can often seep into the brain unnoticed."

He put away his wand and lowered his voice to Harry, who was now massaging his temples anxiously.

"There is no easy way to put this, but your trust of Ginny Weasley is about to be put to the test. It's clear that your involvement with her is known outside these walls, and someone is using her against you."

Harry got the impression that the professor knew just as well as he did who that 'someone' was.

"There is only one solution that I can see," he went on, "well, two, if the two of you were willing to cease all contact."

This was immediately answered by a violent shaking of the head.

"Well then, I can only suggest that she begins the study of Occlumency herself, and to guard against the threat of your other friends being affected in such a way, I shall have to educate you in the ways of Legilimency a lot sooner than expected."

He once again gestured to Harry, who was on the point of getting out of bed.

"For now, just get some rest," he said, "We shall speak later on when you are properly recovered."

Cursing under his breath as Lockhart departed, Harry rested his head back on the pillow and watched Ginny sleep. He knew she was strong, but this still seemed so unfair. All he knew was that he would need a great deal of help to keep his emotions under control in the days ahead.

It was dark when Harry awoke from a uniquely dreamless sleep. Something had woken him. A voice had woken him. Reaching for his glasses, he looked around to see who had spoken, but Ginny was gone and the room was completely deserted. Then he heard the voice again.

"Can you hear me?" it asked.

It was different from a normal human voice, and Harry realised that not only could he hear it around him, though rather distantly, but also inside his head. He recognised the pattern of the voice, and felt a slight chill come over him. It was the voice of a snake. However uncomfortable it made Harry to speak in parseltongue, an ability he had learned of shortly before learning he was a wizard, he felt he should make some kind of reply.

"Yes, I hear you," he responded in the same whispered, hissing language.

"Do you hear my pain?" came the voice, echoing within Harry's ears, "It pulses like the flowing of my blood."

This was utterly bewildering to Harry, but he still felt the need to continue the conversation.

"Why are you in pain?" he asked.

"Who can say?" replied the voice, "There are those who walk tall, and those who slither among them, but most who even draw breath will also know pain. YOU do, of that I am certain."

Harry was becoming very suspicious of where this was leading, but a natural curiosity drove him onwards.

"Who are you?"

He then heard a laugh, or whatever a laugh could be in the tongues of snakes.

"As I am, I have no use for a name," said the voice mockingly, "Though if I did, I would take no pleasure in introducing myself. You have every right to ask, and I have every right to refuse"

Alright then, where to from here?

"Could you at least tell me why you are speaking to me?" Harry settled on.

"Because you answered," hissed the voice coldly.

There was a pause as Harry wondered what he could really say in response to this, but the voice spoke again and interrupted his thoughts.

"I want to ask you a question," it said, "You need not even speak your answer aloud, for it is sure to be engraved upon your mind, just as your fate is inscribed across the stars."

On hearing these words, Harry did what he could with what little Occlumency he had learned, and pulled a blank veil over every distinguishable thought in his head.

"Why should I answer YOUR questions, when you only seem to speak in riddles?" he seethed defiantly.

The voice sounded very angry now, and the hiss was beginning to cause stabbing hot pains in Harry's ears and behind his eyes. His scar began to burn as the voice articulated its rage.

"I DEPISE RIDDLES!" it uttered venomously, "I WILL ASK A SIMPLE QUESTION, AND YOU WILL GIVE AN HONEST ANSWER!"

The storm then calmed and the voice descended into quietly sick and twisted tones.

"What do you fear? What would it take to break that courageous heart?"

Reeling slightly from the pain, Harry held the veil in place and hissed back.

"I have no use for my heart when hatred is all that is left."

Even within their common tongue, Harry couldn't quite make out what followed. It was as if the voice was a blend of displeasure, annoyance and amusement, but without any clearly discernable words.

"Bold sentiment indeed," it said, "though nothing short of pathetic. Your tender age belies your strength, but your heart is as transparent as your laughable attempt to repel me, and don't you dare try to preach hatred to ME! What you know of hatred is but a teardrop in the ocean."

Harry was beginning to lose his temper, and feared that this would open his mind further.

"LEAVE ME NOW!" he replied angrily, and as loud as the language would allow.

He heard the poisoned laughter once more.

"Very well, I shall do you that courtesy," it said smugly, "After all; I have already sensed that fear in you that you refuse to admit. Farewell."

After a few deep breaths, Harry could be sure that he was free of the presence. Raking his hands through his hair, he realised that he had been sweating quite heavily, and there was a small tremble in his hands when he tried to hold them still.

His first impulse was that the voice had been that of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord had invaded his mind before, in his fifth year at Hogwarts, so he knew it was possible. This theory was, however, dismissed after a few moments' thought, as the voice hadn't just been inside his head. He had heard it clearly in a way that suggested that whoever or whatever it was had been fairly close at hand, and he refused to believe that any magic of Voldemort's could allow him to pass the well-protected borders of Hogwarts.

There was only one thing for sure; both he and Ginny would be seeing Professor Lockhart the following morning. Harry would be pushing himself beyond every limit he had.