Chapter 2: And So It Begins
Harry opened his eyes. Looking around, he realized he was in a bed, an extremely soft one actually. Also, the whole room he was in was done in green and silver motif.
He blinked, thinking 'where could….'until remembering what had happened the last time he was awake. So this was the Chamber of Secrets. 'Strange, I don't remember there being an infirmary in the chamber' he thought, as he kept looking around.
He spied a portrait on the wall, the occupant of which was looking at him in undisguised amusement.
"Um...mind telling me who you are, and what part of the chamber this is?" he said.
The man smiled, before replying"For the second part of your question, this is one of the high priority rooms in the medical wing. As for the first, well, why don't you make a guess?"
At this, Harry looked again at the portrait, and this time, really looked.Green robes with silver embroidery, shoulder length black hair and green eyes that reminded Harry of his own.
Only these eyes shone with a depth of experience and wisdom that Harry was sure wasn't present in his own. As he looked, the answer to the man's identity came to him. He supposed that there never really had been much doubt. He'd just been hesitating from acknowledging it. "Slytherin, your name is Salazar Slytherin" he breathed.
"Completely correct, Mister Potter ," The portrait answered. "But then, it never really was much of a question, was it?"
"How do you know my name" Harry asked.
"Oh you were lying there with your mind ready to burst, I'm afraid I took a look through it. A small one, mind you and I also put up a tiny little barrier between your mind and the memories of my dear little descendant that were wreaking such havoc upon your thought processes" was the painting's reply.
"What do you mean by that? You read my mind? And what's this about your descendant's memories?" Harry asked. This was ridiculous, he was in some sort of hospital in the Chamber of Secrets, the portrait of Salazar Slytherin had just gone through his mind, and he had Voldemort's memories in his head?
The portrait was offended by his remark, as he gave a sneer, before replying "You are slow, aren't you, child? I meant exactly what I said. The memories of the man you know as Tom Riddle were hard at work destroying your mind bit by bit, a process made even worse by the partial assimilation you had done with them. I put up a small barrier so that you would be able to absorb them properly when you awoke. Speaking of which, you really should do that right now, before the situation gets any worse."
Harry wasn't having any of that though. He asked "Um…OK, but what exactly do you mean? I don't understand. How did Voldemort's memories get in my head? What is a partial assimilation? And why would I absorb Voldemort's memories?"
The man was now getting visibly annoyed. "Listen, child, you don't know what's going on, fine. But all you really need to understand is that you are currently in the very real danger of becoming a vegetable for the rest of your life, and I'm one of the only people on the planet who can save you from that fate. There will be time enough for your questions later, but right now we need to act!"
Harry was worried. The man seemed sincere in what he was saying, and Harry had no desire to be a drooling husk for the rest of his life. Images of Lockhart flying through his mind, he said "Very well, but you will have to help me, as I've got no idea how to go about absorbing someone's memories, and you apparently know."
The painting smiled, his mood quickly turning around."Of course, you only have to ask for help to be answered." Growing serious, he continued. "Now that we're agreed, understand that this will hurt quite a bit. I will reduce it as much as possible, but you need to be prepared nonetheless."
"Oh, and I will need to enter your mind." He added on an afterthought."I didn't know you needed permission to enter my mind."
"Well, I don't really, but it's always better to observe proper courtesy. Now, this is how it works. I shall enter your mind, assimilate the memories into my own, and then pass on the finished product to you. All I need you to do is to look into my eyes."
Harry did so, and soon he was aware of a presence in his mind. He flinched slightly as he felt a small pulse of magic pass through him, realizing that it must be the barrier Slytherin had spoken of, now gone.
He felt the rush of memories invade his mind, before they were suddenly diverted, no doubt into Slytherin's own. As minutes passed, he gradually became aware of a small flow of thoughts flowing from Salazar's mind into his own. Focusing, he realized they were just simple facts, albeit very detailed.
He remembered the name of an orphanage in the East end of London, the names of its staff, the names of the children, the colours of the clothes they had worn, and their faces. Everything there was to know, he did. The small flow of thought quickly grew to become a river of memories, and he remembered yet more. Maths, science, and English, as they were taught fifty years ago…children, who had terrorized him till he realized that he was better than them … Actions he had taken in both revenge and as pre-emptive strikes…He remembered strangling rabbits, and taking bullies to caves and leaving them there.
He remembered Dumbledore coming and telling him about magic, and then seven years of blind ambition and a quest to findthe legacy of his discovered ancestor, followed by a purge, culminating in murder. He saw a young Tom Riddle as he put on the Sorting Hat, and took his place in Slytherin. He saw Riddle as he discovered his heritage …As he spent all his time in the library, in his quest for knowledge and power. He saw Riddle as he mastered the Unforgivable Curses, as he killed his father, and drowned himself in the Dark Arts.
Above all, he remembered Learning.
The knowledge of spells, potions, and rituals, pieces of magic wonderful and vile passed through in his mind's eye. Recollections of journeys across vast distances, finding masters and ferreting out their secrets, of fighting duel after duel, as he destroyed giants among men while establishing his absolute superiority.
The memories were now a veritable flood.
More information than he could possibly imagine …He could feel it being drilled into him, combining with his magical core.
The basics came first: The Levitating Charm, Calming Draught, and simple Transfiguration …All of the lessons from the first year to the O.W.L. exams.
Then harder things came: Human Transfiguration, Advanced Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Magical Creatures. The Polyjuice Potion, the Draught of Living Death, and Veritaserum. Subjects he had never studied before.
The knowledge kept coming Spells, Potions, and Ritual Instructions that would never be found in the Hogwarts Library.
He learned the Unforgivable Curses in an instant. He learned hundreds of charms, curses, hexes, and jinxes in the blink of an eye. He learned the Dark Arts, Rune Magic, Occlumency, and Legilimency. He learned Ancient Spells long forgotten.
And still the lessons continued.
He learned how to make Port Keys, how to Apparate. He learned Healing, Ward Magic, poisons, and antidotes. He was now fluent in languages he had never heard of, much less spoken.
Magical knowledge wasn't the only thing to come. He saw bank accounts, plans, safe houses and emergency caches. All of a sudden, he knew the innermost details of the Dark Mark. He knew which Death Eaters were utterly loyal and which ones were traitors.
It kept coming for what seemed like hours, wave after wave of facts, breaking down and embedding themselves deep into his mind. Till at last, it reduced, before tapering off completely. And afterwards, darkness enveloped his vision yet again as he receded, this time not in unconsciousness, but in a deep, peaceful slumber. His Last thought was, 'I know what to do now'.
As he slept, the portrait of Salazar Slytherin watched. He knew just how important this boy was.
He had felt the outburst of magic when the boy had unleashed his magic and destroyed those dementors, and he knew just what it was that he had felt. There had been necromancy, and his beloved mind magic, just to name two of many.
The sheer array of magic that had been in play at the time meant that the boy was very powerful. And now, he lay completely within the power of Salazar Slytherin. Most delicious of all, however, was the irony. The boy was a Potter, and there had been potent war magic in his aura the night before last. To the uneducated, the two things were unrelated, but Salazar knew better. After all, War Mages came from one line only.
His face remained as calm as ever, but in his mind he was screaming to the heavens 'Look, Godric, look upon your heir, and weep. For you may have killed me, but my will is done regardless'