Chapter 22

To all reviewers: MAJOR hugs and kisses! I know the last update took forever, and I was so happy to find out that people were still following my story! Your reviews keep the motivation flowing. :)

For the rest of the week, Harry and Salazar's anticipation grew higher and higher. The amount of magic coming from the egg grew higher and higher, and by Thursday night, it was so powerful that even a muggle might have been able to see it.

The magic seemed to have become too much for poor Trevor the toad, and as Harry was leaving the Chamber late Thursday night, the poor old amphibian gave one last faint croak before going on to the next great adventure. Harry was slightly worried about this, but Salazar reassured him that it was to be expected. A magical animal or being could handle and even benefit from strong fields of magic, as their bodies were designed to deal with it. For a mundane animal, or a muggle, strong magical fields were somewhat akin to radiation. Exposure to magic, either over a long term or in large amounts, was extremely harmful to their health. Harry was sadistically amused to learn that Filch was actually only 33 years old.

At any rate, the magic had continued to flow freely from the egg even after poor old Trevor croaked (Harry snickered at the unintentional pun he'd just made), so he assumed that Salazar was right, and everything was still progressing as it should.

Friday morning, just as Harry was preparing to go to breakfast, he suddenly felt an overwhelming jolt. Unprepared as he was, it brought him to his knees as it struck (though luckily, he was alone, and therefore did not have to try and explain it). When he recovered, he knew that his presence was requested in the Chamber immediately.

In the next instant, he had given the password, and found himself reappearing next to a frenetically pacing Salazar.

"You know, you could really take a page out of Helga's book and be a little more subtle in your summoning," Harry noted. "My ears are still ringing."

Salazar stopped his pacing to give Harry an incredulous stare. "You're about to witness the birth of a basilisk, and all you can do is complain that I gave you a tiny little push?"

"It's hatching?" Harry gasped, ringing ears completely forgotten.

"Yes! It's almost time now! Look--the egg has cracked!" Salazar sat down in front of the egg, staring as though the world would end if he blinked.

Harry remembered that he would need to stand back, at least at first, to make sure the baby imprinted on Salazar. He dispelled the cage from around the egg, and increased the temperature on the warming charm just a touch. The egg had indeed cracked, and was now beginning to shake very slightly.

A second crack appeared, perpendicular to the first. The egg shook harder. More and more cracks appeared, until finally, a head started pushing against the top.

"§That's right, little one,§" Salazar's voice came in a strange hissing coo. "§Keep pushing. Just a little more. You can do it.§"

And then the ambient magic that had surrounded the egg was siphoned away, as though going down a drain, and entered the tiny serpentine body that pushed its way out of the shell.

"§Mummy?§" it hissed.

Salazar gave a shout of pure joy. "By Morgana, it worked!" he whispered reverentally.

"§Mummy!§" the baby snake hissed, more insistently this time.

Salazar chuckled, and answered, "§No, little hatchling. My name is Salazar.§" He picked the tiny serpent up and began petting it gently.

The newborn pulled its head back and gave a confused, questioning hiss. Then it leaned forward again and said, very firmly, "§Mummy!§"

Salazar made his tone just as firm. "§Not mummy. Salazar.§"

"§Hungry, mummy!§" was the only reply.

Harry, who had been valiantly holding back, could no longer resist, and burst out into peals of laughter. Salazar, feeding a mouse to the newborn snake, snarled, "You are about three seconds away from being fed to my new pet."

Harry managed to stop laughing, but only to say, "So, Mummy. Does he have a name yet?"

Now Salazar turned to look at Harry. "Hername is Arietta. And why in Merlin's name do you have that ridiculous cloth tied over your eyes? Don't you want to see her?"

"You-you named her after me? And of course I want to see her, but that whole 'death in one glance' thing makes that a bit difficult, doesn't it?"

"Lion cub, take off that silly cloth now! Arietta hasn't hurt me, and she won't hurt you either!"

"Easy for you to say! She can't kill you, you're already dead!"

"I'm sure you recall what the power of a basilisk stare did to Nearly-Headless Nick. She could do the same to me. But she will not."

"Are you sure? I'm awfully fond of being alive, you know."

"Harry, Arietta's stare is nothing compared to what Tom would do to me if I allowed you to come to harm."

Harry blushed. "All right, then." He took his blindfold off, and slowly opened his eyes.

Arietta, in his admittedlly biased opinion, was beautiful. Her scales were a shimmering blue-green colour on the top and sides, and her belly was a pearlescent white. Her head was crowned with a tiny crest a shade darker than her scales. Her eyes, when Harry finally looked into them, sparkled like topaz.

Harry gently picked her up and brought her to eye level. "§Hello, Arietta§," he hissed gently.

"§Nest mate?§" she hissed back, butting her nose gently against his.

"§Nest mate,§" he confirmed wryly. "§My name is Harry.§"

Arietta pulled her head back and yawned, exposing tiny gleaming fangs. "§Sleepy, nest mate!§"

Harry smiled at her. "§Then go to sleep, little one. Mummy will watch over you.§" With that, he handed Arietta back to Salazar. While he Conjured a large, soft cushion and cast Warming charms over it, Salazar was--Harry couldn't believe it. Was he really?

Yes, the fearsome Salazar Slytherin was really cuddling a baby snake, and hissing a soft lullaby.

It was hilarious, and Harry knew he would be having a good laugh over it later, but at the moment, he could only think of how terribly sweet it was, and his heart warmed as he Disillusioned himself and whispered "§exit.§"

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The following Thursday, Harry was walking back from class with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and several other Gryffindor students. He was only half following the conversation, as he was thinking about an excuse he could use to get away to see Arietta again. She was already twice as big as she had been a week ago, and he was fascinated watching his little "nest mate."

"Are you even listening, Harry?" Ginny's voice interrupted his reverie.

"Um...sorry, no. I was thinking about next week's Quidditch game. What were you saying?"

"I was just telling Hermione how much I liked her book bag," the red-headed girl replied. "It's dragon hide, it can hold as much as you want to put in it, and it'll never get heavy. It has compartments for quills and inks that keep the quills from ever breaking and the ink from ever spilling, and the straps have special comfort spells on them. I wish I could get one like it!"

Harry looked at the bag in question. "Hey, that is nice," he agreed. "Is it new?"

Hermione gave him a quick wink, then blushed and replied, "Yes, I just got it last Friday. It's been ever so useful, I don't know how I ever got along without it. The brown dragon hide is beautiful, too."

The girls in the group started giggling, but just as Parvati opened her mouth to ask another question, Hermione quickly said, "Does anyone need help with the essay for Astronomy?"

Neville, Seamus, and Lavender all started asking questions simultaneously, and the conversation moved on to the gravitational pull of the moon and its effects on the tides, and why this was important for magic.

Looking back on it, Harry was quite confused. Hermione's new book bag was nice, but why was everyone still talking about it a week after she got it? Why had she winked at him? Why did all the girls giggle when she talked about it? And why had she changed the subject so quickly and obviously?

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Another week later, Harry was in the Chamber, feeding Arietta. She was now three times the size she had been at birth, making her about forty-five centimeters long, and seemed to eat almost constantly. But Harry still thought she was one of the most adorable things he'd ever seen. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Hey Salazar?"

"Yes Harry?"

"It's after the Easter holidays now."

"So it is. My congratulations on having mastered the art of reading a calendar. Perhaps next year you will learn to tie your own shoes like a big boy."

"Ha bloody ha. The sorting hat never mentioned that Slytherin was the house for wanna-be comedians."

"Didn't it? It must be because our sense of humour is under-appreciated. The subtleties of our wit are lost on those who prefer the idiotic showboating and pratfalls of Gryffindors."

Before Harry could respond to that, Salazar continued. "However, I will give you the benefit of the doubt and I assume you had a reason for mentioning the date. I hope you will prove me right."

"You promised to give me a hint if I hadn't found Rowena by the Easter holidays."

Salazar scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So I did." He did not seem inclined to say anything else.

"Well?" Harry asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"Patience, lion cub, I am deciding how much information I should give you. She would be most upset with me if I made it too easy. She likes those who can prove their intelligence, after all."

"Maybe you could tell me which floor to search?"

Salazar smirked. "No, that would not be possible."

"Why not? Is that really narrowing it down too much?"

"That is not the reason I cannot answer your question. However, telling you the true reason would be giving away too much."

Harry couldn't make any sense of that, and sighed in frustration. "Is there anything else you might deign to tell me? You're not giving me a lot to go on here."

Salazar stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Two more things. First, many people in the castle have spoken to her, though very few ever realize it. You may have already spoken to her yourself."

Harry thought about that for a moment, wondering what it implied. Did that mean she Obliviated people after speaking to them? That she was in disguise? That she only interacted with people on a subconscious level? Still pondering, he asked, "And second?"

"Second...do you know how to enter the Ravenclaw common room?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "I've never been there, but I assume it has a password, just like Gryffindor and Slytherin?"

"That would be a 'no,' then. My second hint is this: Find out how to enter Ravenclaw Tower. Once you've done that, and taken at least a week to think over it, if you still can't figure it out, I might grace you with another hint."

"Well, that part should be easy enough," Harry mused. "On another note, does Gryffindor's spirit only exist in the Hat, or can he appear like you and Helga?"

"Godric's spirit can manifest itself anywhere within the same room as the Hat. He's always been big on the formalities, though--pomp and tradition and ritual. He won't speak to you until you greet him properly as the family Patriarch."

"The what now?"

"The family Patriarch. The male head of the family. Godric enjoys talking to people, especially those of his line, but he would never let any member of his family dispense with the formalities. I can't count how many times I've heard him dither on about 'proper respect for wizarding traditions.' While he was Headmaster, he made sure all muggle-raised students were educated in wizarding customs, and he was actually the one who started using the word 'Mudblood' for those who refused to adapt."

Harry was quite taken aback at this version of history. "Seriously? Then...how did you and your house get the reputation for only allowing pure-blood students?"

"Godric's oldest child, Garret, was of a rebellious nature. He hated formal behaviour, and enjoyed spending time amongst muggles. He fell in love with a muggle girl and married her. That in itself would not have been problematic, but he insisted on sharing his magical nature not only with her, but also with her family, and then her entire village. At first, things were fine. The villagers were thrilled by the magical solutions Garret offered for their problems, and he was very popular with his neighbours. Godric passed on, and Garret became the head of the family. He used the name of Gryffindor to encourage wizards and muggles to live together in harmony. As Godric had never written down any of his ideals, the philosophy associated with the Gryffindor name changed."

"You said 'at first' the villagers liked Garret and his magic." Harry commented. "What happened to him?"

"As you know, there are many problems that magic cannot solve. As problems of that nature arose, the villagers began to be less grateful and more suspicious. They did not understand magic, and began to fear that Garret would use it against them. It all came to a head when the son of a man Garret had a public disagreement with fell ill. Garret attempted to cure the child, but he did so with a potion. As you may know, but Garret did not, most potions are poisonous to muggles. The child died immediately after consuming the potion, and Garret was blamed for the child's death. The villagers turned on him, and killed his wife and two children. Garret himself barely escaped with his life, and he fled to Hogwarts. He arrived at the castle gate gravely injured. I was the one who found him."

"That's horrible! Did he--did he make it?"

"No. He lived just long enough to tell me what had happened, and to warn me. The villagers had been told where to find Hogwarts, and were planning to attack. He begged me to do whatever I could to fix his mistake, and those were his last words."

"I don't understand. How could muggles attack Hogwarts if they can't even see it?"

"A good question. The attack was easily repelled, but in the aftermath, Rowena, Helga, and I decided to make sure it could never happen again. It took a great amount of planning and power, but we cast the wards that would make Hogwarts invisible to muggle eyes. I left the school and spent the rest of my life trying to fulfill Garret's dying wish, ensuring the secrecy of the magical world. This, of course, included publishing books on the subject. As history progressed, those idiots who believed in magical inbreeding co-opted my writings to promote their own agenda, and thus was my reputation made."

"Wow."

"Indeed."

"Someday, when I'm in a stronger position, I'll attempt to clear your name."

"Harry, you don't have to do that. I'm more than used to it by now."

"But it isn't fair! You deserve a good name, and the wizarding world deserves the truth!"

Salazar just laughed. "Gryffindors. Hasn't anyone ever told you that life isn't fair?"

"Do you really think that I, of all people, don't already know that?" Harry snapped. "The world is never going to be a perfect place, true. That doesn't mean we should never try to make it any better!"

"You're right, Harry. But this is a minor injustice, and long in the past. Focus your energy on the injustices of the present."

Harry set his lip stubbornly. "The damage done to you might be in the past. But it continues affecting the students in your house to this day."

"So it does. Do you really think exposing the truth about me would change the reputation of my house?"

"It couldn't hurt."

"Perhaps. Don't you have a class to be getting to?"

"I do. But before I go, I'm afraid my muggle upbringing was rather lacking in muggle etiquette, let alone wizarding. Does the library happen to have a book that could teach me how to greet my family Patriarch?"

"Of course. I suggest 'Complete Guide to Manners and Etiquette.'"

"Who's the author?"

"Me, of course."

Harry laughed. "Thanks, Salazar. I'll see you later. §Arietta, be good for mummy.§"

As Salazar aimed a smack at his head, Harry whispered "§exit,§" disappearing and dodging the blow.

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Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, reading the book Salazar had given him that morning. It was sort of dry, but not terrible. At the very least, it was quite informative. Harry wondered how much of it had changed since Salazar's time, and when Hogwarts had stopped teaching this sort of things to muggle raised students. If he was ever in a position to have a say in the matter, Hogwarts would do so again.

Hermione came in through the portrait hole and smiled at him. "Hey, Harry, can I talk to you for a sec?" she asked.

"Of course," Harry replied.

She sat down next to him and glanced at the book open on his lap. A frown came over her face. "Harry, what on earth are you reading?" she whispered urgently.

Harry was surprised. Okay, not a lot of boys his age were especially concerned with manners, but there weren't a lot of boys in his position, either. "Er...it's just a book about wizarding etiquette. Why are you looking at me like that? I know it's not quite a usual subject, but it's still rather useful."

Hermione drew her wand and cast an several privacy charms, along with a Muffliato spell. "Harry," she whispered. "Where did you get that book? Did you honestly not notice?"

Ignoring the question of where the book came from, Harry, completely bewildered, asked "Notice what?"

"Harry, that book isn't written in English, or any other language I recognize. And as far as I'm aware, the only languages you know are English...and Parseltongue."

Harry groaned inwardly. This was one book he had expected would be in English, and that wasn't about a suspicious subject, so he hadn't bothered using a concealing spell. Now that Hermione mentioned it, though, he could see the squiggly lines that a non-Parselmouth would see the book as.

"Hermione, I swear I didn't know," he told her. I can see it now that you've told me, but I swear, it just looked like English to me."

"But where did you get it? I'm sure the library wouldn't have anything like that."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, Harry, why would you even ask me that?"

"Because I want to tell you the truth, but I'm afraid of how you'll react. You have to promise me that even if what I tell you makes you angry, you won't tell anyone else."

"What could be that bad?"

"Promise, first."

"All right, Harry. I swear on my magic that I will not reveal to anyone anything told to me by Harry James Potter in the next five minutes."

A flash of blue surrounded her, showing that the oath was binding.

Harry took a deep breath. If Hermione could accept this, maybe eventually she could accept his relationship with Tom?

"There's a library in the Chamber of Secrets. I got it from there."

In hindsight, Harry supposed he should have expected her reaction.

"A whole library? Really? Is it big? Are all of the books in Parseltongue? Oh, I can't even imagine what must be in there! Can you show me?"

After continuing to babble in that vein for a good minute, Hermione seemed to catch herself. She paused, and put a stern look on her face. "That is, I mean to say, are you sure that's safe? I'm sure it must be full of dark magic."

Harry laughed. "It is a whole library, and it's quite big. Most of the books are in Parseltongue, but not all of them. I'm sure there a lot of books in there that can't be found anywhere else in the world. I don't think it would be safe for me to show you. And it has a section of dark magic, but that section is actually only a small part. And you already knew I was studying some dark magic."

Hermione smiled at him. "I know I told you this before, but be careful, Harry. And I respect your right to privacy, but you should know that you can always talk to me about anything. I won't judge you, and I won't tell anyone else your secrets."

"Thanks, 'Mione." Harry put the book away in his bag to cast the concealing spell on later. "Now, before all this came up, you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Oh, yes. Harry, I appreciate all the gifts, I really do, but honestly, you don't have to keep sending them! I'm actually getting a bit tired of all the attention. It's terribly frustrating trying to study while all the girls gossip about who could be sending them."

Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Hermione, what are you talking about? All the gifts?"

"Oh, you know, the perfume, the flowers, the books, the chocolates, the bookbag. They were all very nice, Harry, but really, it's enough!"

"Hermione, those weren't from me. Well, I mean, the perfume was, but those other things you mentioned, I didn't even know you got them."

Hermione froze. "Harry, are you serious? Who else could have sent them?"

A horrible possibility occured to Harry, one that he didn't quite want know how to bring up. He was horrible at being delicate. But it couldn't be ignored.

"Erm...well...you know I think you're a beautiful girl, and smart, clever, funny, caring, and passionate. Any bloke would be lucky to date you. I'm sure there are dozens of guys who like you enough to send you gifts."

"Thanks Harry. Now, whatever you're trying to say, just spit it out."

"Well, it's just...um...did you...did you...check the gifts for curses? I know, I know, that's a horrible thing to say, and it's horribly insensitive of me to suggest that no one would send you nice present just because they like you, because they would, and it probably is exactly what it looks like. Please don't hex me?"

Hermione just laughed. "It'd be awfully hypocritical of me if I got mad at you for suggesting that anonymous gifts might be hexed, now wouldn't it? I didn't check them yet, since I thought they were from you, but I'd better go do that. Would you give me a hand?"

"Sure, if you really want me to," Harry said in surprise. He knew Hermione didn't think he was stupid, but he didn't think she would ever consider him able to help her solve a magical problem. It was rather nice, he decided, to be respected for his abilities.

Harry and Hermione checked all the gifts, but neither was able to find anything.

"Just as I thought," Harry grinned. "You've just got yourself an admirer with deep pockets and exquisite taste. Congratulations."

Hermione blushed, and Harry bid her goodnight.

An hour later or so, he was back in Tom's study. After a quick, but satisfactory greeting kiss, they sat down together on their love seat.

"So, little serpent. Three more months until the Consort ritual. Have you finished with that book yet?"

"Well, I read the instructions for the ritual itself, but you didn't really expect me to read the entire thing, did you? It's rather dry."

Tom sighed. "Please tell me that you also read the introduction? It is absolutely essential that you understand the basics of ritual magic as a whole."

"I did, though I thought your summary conveyed the information just as accurately, and quite a bit more efficiently."

"Forgive me if I don't quite recall what I wrote, it has been fifty years, after all."

"You summarized the introduction in three sentences. Follow the instructions precisely, there are consequences for failure, and the results are permanent, so be bloody damn sure. Tell me, Tom," Harry winked flirtatiously, "Are you 'bloody damn sure' about this?"

"Would I do this if I wasn't?" Tom rebutted, giving Harry a quick kiss. "But returning to the point, when you feel that you have finished with the book, please return it to the Chamber library. It has been some time since I read it, and I wish to refresh my memory so that I may begin making the necessary preparations."

"Sure thing. I'll bring it back tomorrow."

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Hermione discovered her mistake, and attempted to rename the Association for the Salvation of Serpents, but it was too late. The wizarding world was already overcome with buttons, t-shirts, and patches sporting slogans such as:

-I heart A.S.S.

-A.S.S. is for everyone

-Proud A.S.S. supporter

-A.S.S.: Not just for Slytherins

-I'm an A.S.S. man

-The world needs A.S.S.

And while Hermione was slightly embarrassed, A.S.S. made so much money from selling these items that funding was never an issue again.