Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
To those asking about time skips, there won't be any, many things still have to happen in these years of Harry's life as 'Harry Riddle'. Though you'll see that his school years at Hogwarts will not drag on unbearably, I'll only go into important events.
On another note, I'm sure that who Minerva McGonagall's parents were or the Minister of Magic in that year or other is information that can be found somewhere, in other things JKR must have written in filler books or her website and interviews. But I only consider canon what is mentioned in HP books, because I haven't read anything else of JKR's nor will I. So I'll only follow what's in the HP books, sorry.
About the whole Hetalia debacle, I don't mind readers commenting on other fics, animes or whatever else, in the reviews for this fic. Indeed, it makes me quite happy to hear and learn about other things that I might like :) And the person who recommended Hetalia was doing it as a kindness to me, to share something with me that they loved. And that's very nice. If you don't like Hetalia it's fine to say so, but please don't criticize or insult the person who does. We all have different tastes that we should respect.
Also, I did read the review left by a reader, though I didn't comment on it since it had been posted anonymously. But I did feel deeply touched that my fic helped someone through a tough situation in life, as words cannot express. You have my heart-felt admiration for what you overcame and gratitude for sharing such personal things with me, and my best hopes and wishes that you'll always be well.
Part I: Chapter 37
By the time Harry finally reached the seventh floor, all the previous excitement he had felt for being approached by the ghost had fairly dwindled, now feeling simply tired.
"I've been waiting for you for over an hour," snapped the Grey Lady ill temperedly as soon as she caught sight of him, as she floated before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his tutu-wearing Trolls.
"I'm sorry," said Harry with a heavy sigh. "I was… sidetracked."
The ghost was certainly utterly uninterested in his exploits, since she merely waved a hand impatiently, as she turned around and demanded sharply, "What do you see?"
Harry glanced at the expanse of wall she was floating before, and replied in a toneless voice, "Blue and bronze magic."
The Grey Lady snapped her head around to pierce him with a scowl, as she said with poignant sarcasm, "Oh, and it's just such an ordinary sight that you stand there, seeing it and acting as if it was nothing significant?"
Having lost all lingering traces of patience after his confrontation with Malfoy, Harry glared at her and snapped acidly, "Yes, it is a common sight for me. I see the Founders' magic all over the bloody castle!"
The ghost narrowed her eyes at him, and said sharply, "This is different, silly boy. Or don't you recall-"
"I remember what Santi called it the first time we all met," interjected Harry with frustration, carding a hand through his messy hair. "He called it the Room of Requirements." He then pointed an accusing finger at the expanse of wall covered by the lattice of magic. "But there is no bloody door, is there? So there's no room there!"
The Grey Lady shot him a snide look. "Children nowadays, you don't have an ounce of intelligence."
"Look, I should be in the stupid Yule Ball right now. Or better yet, in my bed, sleeping," groused out Harry, bristling and exasperated. "So just tell me whatever it is that Santi thinks is so important, and let's get it over with!"
The ghost let out an incisive, brittle bark of laughter. "Oh no, boy. It won't be as easy for you as that. I might have come to terms with the fact that Santi won't aid you in giving me salvation unless I disclose my secrets to you. But I won't give you all that information in exchange for nothing."
She paused for a split second, skewering him with her greyish, translucent eyes, before she said dourly, "And it seems that you'll not be bringing my salvation soon. You're not ready yet, according to Santi." Her lips twisted at that, before her voice hardened as she added, "Hence, I demand something else in return, for the time being. And in repayment, as a gesture of good will, I'll reveal to you the secrets of this Room."
Harry glanced at the lattice of colorful magic and then frowned at her, as he demanded curtly, "What do you want from me?"
"You'll know shortly," said the Grey Lady dismissively, before she gestured at the expanse of wall before them. "This is what Santi said. My mother created it."
"Your mother?" Harry stared at her, boggled. "But the magic I see is blue and bronze – it is Rowena Ravenclaw's."
"And who do you think I am, foolish boy!" she bellowed at him. "You know my name is Helena – Helena Ravenclaw, child!"
Harry blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded, before he trailed his gaze up and down over her and shot the ghost a very dubious look. "Are you sure? I've never heard that Ravenclaw had a daughter-"
"Of course I'm sure!" The Grey Lady gave him a dark, seething glower at that. "You want more proof of the truth of my words? Very well, stand aside!"
Harry was quick to do so, very wary of her clearly unbalanced temper. And he stared, frowning and mystified, as she floated up and down before the wall, as she had being doing the first time he had seen her.
Though instead of desperately mumbling 'I need redemption', she was now repeating thrice, "I need a place to speak to him, a beautiful place. I need a place to speak to him, a beautiful place. I need a place to speak to him, a beautiful place."
Harry gaped when a large, ornate door suddenly appeared on the wall, glowing even more powerfully and beautifully with Rowena Ravenclaw's magic than the wall had been.
The loony ghost – Ravenclaw's daughter, if she was to be believed– sank through the door immediately, leaving Harry to stare at the doorknob, shifting uneasily on his feet.
However, he was too intrigued and curious to give it another thought, and swiftly yanked the door open and trotted inside.
He instantly skidded to a halt, letting out a hitched and stunned exhalation of breath, as he was utterly awestruck by what he encountered.
He was in a meadow of a forest, filled with vibrant green grass under his feet and towering trees, with a spring and meandering creek a few feet away, its water indolently rolling by, the sound and rhythm lulling and soothing as it was accompanied by the chirps of birds, from somewhere above.
Furthermore, everything was doused in Rowena Ravenclaw's magic: thin strands of blue and bronze, like sparkling threads of dew, weaved through the grass, the water, the tree leaves - even to the sky, Harry saw, as he glanced upwards, gobsmacked.
It was strange, he realized. There was no ceiling but no sky and clouds either, just sunlight that seemed to cover everything. Glancing around, he also glimpsed, in the far away distance, how the grass and trees merged into faint, fade walls.
The Grey Lady was floating about the grass, not looking entranced and filled with awe and wonder as Harry was by the beauty of their surroundings and its mere existence inside a 'room'. Instead, she was glaring, her expression profoundly bitter, as if the Room had constantly failed her, unforgivably.
"My mother was very proud of this creation of hers," the ghost muttered quietly as she floated before the brook and stared down at its clear, rumbling water. "Its magic does as its name tells. One has to walk, thrice, before the wall outside, saying or thinking about something that is needed, 'required', and the Room will provide."
She abruptly turned away from the stream to pierce him with angered eyes, as she snarled with rage, "It has its limitation of course! The Room cannot create food, cannot conjure books that haven't been written, or provide knowledge that hasn't been discovered, it cannot give you salvation, it can't dispel a Curse within you!" Her expression morphed into one of hatred and despise, as she spat out, "My mother wasn't all-knowing, perfect, and all-powerful as she liked to believe. Indeed she wasn't! In her quest for knowledge she made many mistakes. She did things she shouldn't have, she created a terrible thing, didn't she? Yes, Santi wants me to tell you about it, but not yet. Not without a price, as I've said."
Harry stared at her with wide eyes, startled and unsettled by the ghost's evident loathing of her mother, and one as famed and exalted as Ravenclaw, at that.
The Grey Lady gestured upwards as she hissed out scathingly, "That which looks like sunlight is magical, artificial – it's not the same as the true thing."
Her expression abruptly turned wretched, as she clamped her arms around herself, shuddering as she closed her eyes and breathed out fervently, "I remember, I still do, how the sunrays felt when they touched my skin, the feeling of prickling grass under my bare feet, the soft rumbling of a nearby stream, the sound of birds singing in a forest. I want to feel all those things again, the real thing, not an imitation that pales in comparison - what this room provides."
With her eyes still closed, she carried on in a distraught, embittered tone of voice, "Not even my mother's Room can pander to the needs of a ghost. I cannot touch what this room can conjure up. I cannot run through the meadow, or swim in the water, or even have grass feeling solid to my touch."
She went silent, and Harry felt a surge of pity as he gazed at her, before he frowned in puzzlement and shook his head. "I don't understand. What are you asking of me?"
The Gray Lady snapped her eyes open, her expression looking feverish as cried out impassionedly, "To help me in having my senses filled with sensations and feelings! To know the taste of food again, to be able to sleep and know its peacefulness, to have dreams once more, and feel the warm, gentle touch of another!"
Harry merely had the time to blink before the ghost was upon him, clutching his shoulders in a painful grip, as she said desperately, "I already told you who I am and showed you how to summon the Room. I'll tell you everything I know, even beyond what Santi wants, if you help me now in return. I'm not asking for much, just to let me feel, to let me live again! I only ask for one day of every month, during a year, until the next Yuletide."
"You're not making any sense," groused out Harry, shaking his head. "How do you expect me to help you with 'living again'! You're dead!"
The Grey Lady's eyes seemed to brighten and gleam manically, as she breathed out, "Let me show you."
If her expression had instantly made Harry feel very wary and apprehensive, what happened next made him jump several steps backwards, in fearful astonishment.
The ghost had suddenly shrunken, so fast that he wasn't even sure what had happened when there was merely a ball of white light floating before him in her place.
Before he even had the chance to gather his wits back, the ball shot towards him, striking him and sinking into his chest, disappearing from sight.
"What's happened?" Harry cried out frantically, glancing down at himself, frenetically clutching the dress robes on his chest. "Where are you – what have you done!"
Do not fight me. Calm down, child! You're going to expel me, if not!
"What?" croaked out Harry faintly, his face losing all its color, as he unseeingly stared forward with wide eyes. "Where are you!"
Relax, boy! You're not making this easy for me. Stop fighting me!
With his heart stuck in his throat with horror, Harry frenziedly glanced around, though he knew it was pointless. There was no one else in the Room of Requirements now, and he had a fairly good idea of where she was.
He didn't think he had ever felt so ill in his life. He felt as if he was unbearably filled to the brim, about to break from his seams, with his stomach churning sickly, his head pounding, dizziness and disorientation sweeping through him as his breathing turned haggard and wild.
Stop panicking!, the voice in his mind said sharply. This takes a great deal of concentration, will power, and energy-
"I'm not panicking!" roared Harry furiously, feeling thoroughly insulted and indignant. "I'm feeling sick, I feel about to throw up!"
He suddenly bent over, pressing a hand over his mouth as he gagged convulsively and panted, "Please get out! It's horrible!"
Give me a chance, I beg-
"Get out!" yelled Harry hoarsely, feeling so faint he was certain he was going to lose consciousness soon.
You have to relax. You have to clear your mind!
"How can I clear my bloody mind when you're speaking to me in it!" snapped Harry hotly as his wobbling legs abruptly gave way and he haphazardly fell to the grass in a bout of sickly dizziness.
Yes! Lay on the ground, breathe slowly, and calm down-
"I don't want to calm down," said Harry woozily, feeling as if his head was swirling vertiginously. "Get out from me."
Please! I beg of you, I implore you!
At the despair and wretchedness of her voice, Harry tightly closed his eyes, biting his lip.
"Alright," he mumbled with a heavy sigh, and he let himself collapse backwards unto the ground, feeling utterly expended, not thinking he even had the energy to move a finger.
"What did you do?" he then said weakly as he tiredly laid spread on the grass.
It's called possession.
"What?" choked out Harry, his eyes flying open in dismay, anxiety, and alarm.
It doesn't hurt you!, quickly said the Grey Lady's voice in his mind. I won't harm you in any way, child. You felt ill because you were battling me, but now you're feeling better, are you not?
"Maybe," croaked out Harry uncertainly. "But I feel drained."
It's to be expected, the first time it happens, said the Grey Lady coolly. It will pass.
Harry scowled, as he retorted crossly, "While you sound quite well. Jolly good for you, I suppose!"
You are my only resort, she said pleadingly. I dare only do this with you, because we can strike a deal. Hogwarts' ghosts are forbidden from attempting possession on the living. If any of the teachers found out, I would be banished from the Castle, and I would forever drift in a limbo. In the nothingness between the living and the dead.
Harry frowned at that, perturbed and shaken by the picture she was giving him, though still unconvinced of yielding to her wishes.
When I became a ghost, she added grimly, I appeared in Hogwarts. I am forever bound to it. Her voice turned despondent, as she added in a murmur, I cannot leave its walls. I can only gaze from the windows, and see suns setting, moons dwindling, and I can only look from afar, as life passes by all around me and I'm trapped in my cage, in isolation.
Sighing, Harry absentmindedly rubbed his prickling scar, as he muttered quietly, "Fine. We'll give it a shot, all right? But I make no promises if I can't bear it again."
I understand. I thank you for the chance.
Harry nodded, feeling quite stupid at doing it at someone he couldn't see, or actually speaking out loud to empty space, but at least his stomach had settled and his strength was returning to him.
Well… this is a…
…surprise…
"What is?" said Harry, frowning at her hesitant, disturbed, and wary tone of voice.
Suddenly he felt very weird, as if something was shifting inside him, as if she was carefully prodding and poking about.
"What are you doing?" he said as he felt a strange surge of agitation and a rush of blazing rage that wasn't his own, his head beginning to pound again as his scar began to prickle even more painfully.
I didn't expect to have company in here, she said, still sounding unnerved and unsettled. You're much more than you seem, Harry Riddle.
"What?" Harry blinked, thoroughly confused. "What company? What are you talking about?"
It's Dark…. Oh yes, very much so. Is it a-?
She went silent, before she spoke again, her tone highly disturbed and fearful, A despicable, dangerous evil thing it is, but…
Abruptly, Harry felt as if something within was gripping him tenaciously, not painfully, but suffusing him with cajoling warmth, holding onto him resolutely and possessively.
"What are you doing!" demanded Harry frenziedly, feeling strange at the bizarre sensation that felt tingling and pleasant yet also so very odd.
It's not me! said the Grey Lady in an astonished tone of voice. It likes you. Indeed, it seems to be contently ensconced and coiled up with your own. Even merged, I dare say.
"What the bloody hell are you blabbering about!"
Nothing, boy! she snapped, though she still sounded stunned and flustered. There's nothing to be done about this. I don't think it will hurt or bother me, if I leave it alone.
"I want to know what you're talking about!" roared Harry at the end of his rope, jerking upwards to sit up straight on the grass.
You have a peculiar soul, said the Grey Lady coolly, that is all.
"A peculiar soul?" he echoed, perplexed, before he bit out churlishly, "What's that supposed to mean? What was moving in there!"
A component of your own soul, she retorted flatly. There's no danger to you. Nor me, I believe, if I'm careful. Thus, now that we've regained our strength, let me concentrate on the task-at-hand!
And then Harry moved.
It was the strangest, most uncomfortable sensation he had ever felt, as his limbs moved with a volition of their own, jerkily and awkwardly, his body clumsily clambering upwards to his feet.
"How can you – don't do that!" gasped out Harry, thoroughly rattled and shaken. "Don't take control over my body!"
That was the deal, snapped the Grey Lady impatiently, as she moved Harry's feet, one after the other in the direction of the door. One day a month, I'll live through you!
"I didn't agree to hand my body over to you!" hissed out Harry furiously. "I thought you'd only be along for the ride!"
That's not good enough, she said sharply.
"Well, that's all you'll get," snarled Harry infuriated as he dug his heels in, managing to abruptly halt his feet.
In the next moment, though, he tripped and stumbled as he battled against a force that wasn't his own, his muscles aching and struggling as they attempted to obey two opposing wills.
"Stop it!"
Abruptly, a loud, shrieking, piercing cry of pain boomed in his mind, making Harry clutch his head, wincing and moaning.
"Helena?" he croaked, cringing. "Helena, stop screaming - stop whatever you're doing!"
I'm not doing, she gasped out in a pain-ridden voice, sounding weak, frail, and terrified, I didn't… I won't take control over your body again!
Harry blinked, as he was suddenly encompassed by a mantle of viciously triumphant satisfaction, abruptly being suffused with chilly calmness.
You have a very nasty, said the Grey Lady stiffly, possessive, and merciless protector in your soul.
Harry frowned at that, before he shook his head and gritted out, incensed by what she had attempted, "Right. I think I've had enough. You've had your fun for the day. Now get out, I'm going to bed!"
I don't think so, she said sharply, her tone hard. We struck a bargain. We still have some hours left.
"To do what?" said Harry incredulously. "It's nighttime, and after the stunt you tried to pull-"
I've said I won't take control again, she interjected acerbically. And I prefer it's night for what I wish to do. We'll go to the Forbidden Forest.
Harry gaped, before he said disbelievingly, "It's filled with dangerous creatures – I'm not going in there!"
I can help with anything we might encounter, she said nonchalantly, if you willingly subject yourself to my control. I don't think your… soul would hurt me if I had your consent. I can wield your wand for you, and use your magic and voice to cast spells-
"Absolutely not," bit out Harry, scowling darkly, before he grumbled crabbily under his breath, "I'll manage."
Can't you do anything about your jingling bits!
Harry's ears turned red for the umpteenth time. "My family jewels don't jingle – they aren't bloody bells!"
They bother me. How can you walk with those dangling things constantly getting in the way-
Turning scarlet, Harry hissed out with supreme aggravation, "You're welcome to posses a girl, then!"
I would certainly prefer it, muttered the Grey Lady glumly. But you know why I can't.
"Exactly," Harry griped sourly. "We're stuck with each other, Helena. So for both our sakes, stop talking about my private parts!" He scowled as he added sharply, "And don't call them wiggly, dangly bits or jingly, bitty pieces or anything else!"
What should I call your 'unmentionables', then? she demanded flatly.
"Don't call them anything at all!" cried out Harry with exasperation. "You shouldn't be even thinking about them!"
He shook his head, feeling he must be in some bizarre nightmare, arguing with a female ghost about his private parts because they annoyed her. Honestly, it was the height of wackiness. He didn't think he could feel more discomfited or weirded out.
"You're Ravenclaw's daughter, right?" he said finally, trying to put a closed lid on the subject once and for all. "I hardly think witches of your times spoke about such things!"
You'd be surprised, said the Grey Lady dryly.
Harry groaned, rubbing his face with a hand, now not even wanting to think what girls got around together to gossip about.
Catering to the Grey Lady's wishes was proving to be more trouble than it was worth. Harry had half a mind to swirl around, stomp into Professor Slughorn's office, and demand an exorcism.
In the beginning, their incursion into the Forbidden Forest had gone fairly well. Harry had been alert and cautious at first, gripping his wand and shooting wary glances at shadows.
But it had become pleasant, as the Grey Lady asked him to stop in that bush or other, to smell at this or that flower that bloomed at night, or to caress a tree leaf, or to walk without shoes so that she could revel in the feeling of cold, soft snow and crushed old leaves under the soles of his feet. Or to stand, staring at the moon to bask in its beauty, to take a deep breath of fresh air and slowly let it out, taking pleasure in such simple things which she found so marvelous.
It had been peaceful and enjoyable, even for Harry, since through her he felt the wonder and awe caused by ordinary experiences he had taken for granted and never paused to consider or take pleasure in.
However, she became more and more demanding, increasingly finding fault in everything about him because it wasn't the same for her as when she had been alive: Harry didn't walk properly –you shuffle and lumber too much!- he wasn't fluid and elegant in motion, or as willowy and lithe as would have been preferable to her tastes.
In short, his boy's body and ways marred things for her, clearly crushing whatever idealized notions she had envisioned about the experience beforehand.
Harry had the inkling that, in life, Helena Ravenclaw must have been a very supercilious, spoiled, and demanding witch; clearly too perfectionist, haughty, and filled with lofty, high expectations that must have been impossible to meet by others, or even by her life or herself, at that.
It was certain that her demands and complains soon fed him up, added to his tiredness and to the surge of blazing pain he once felt in his scar. The latter giving him a clear indication that the Yule Ball had to be over and his brother must have gone back to their dorm, finding that he wasn't there either.
Indeed, Harry was fairly sure that Tom must have been in a towering rage, and he didn't have the foggiest idea of how he would explain his absence. He couldn't even come up with a remotely convincing lie to tell.
"Well," said Harry with faked cheerfulness. "This was nice, wasn't it? I think we're done-"
I'm not tired, said the Grey Lady curtly, her tone then turning fervid, I want to see more, feel more!
"Of course you do," grumbled Harry under his breath, lifting his lit wand again as he wearily dragged his feet forward.
Only once a month, he reminded himself hopefully.
For a year.
Harry groaned.
Whatever mysterious, crucial secrets she possessed, they had better be bloody fantastic or he would string up Santi to the highest goal hoop in the Quidditch Pitch and invite Alphard over to shoot some Quaffles.
He sighed as he cast on himself another Warming Charm, to then glance around pensively.
"Well, if you want to keep on going," he said musingly, "we could pay a visit to a friend of mine that lives somewhere in here."
He might as well kill to birds with one stone. He had been meeting Nagini every Saturday night at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as they had agreed, but the snake had always only lingered for enough time to tell him she was well before giddily and excitedly rushing back into the forest.
And last Saturday, Harry had waited for hours but she hadn't turned up.
"You're like a mother hen with a bad case of empty nest syndrome!" Alphard had cried out in between amused snickers and chortles, when Harry had expressed his anxiousness. "All worried for your little darling who has spread her wings and gone into the big bad world! What - Tom was the dad and you the mom?"
The boy had guffawed even harder at his own quip. Harry hadn't been amused.
Tom hadn't been of much help either.
"She's always been quite self-sufficient," his brother had hissed out irritably, "there's no cause for concern. She's fine, I'm sure."
And Tom had waved a hand dismissively to return to his studies of German, which was quite rich since the boy hadn't bothered, once, to go see Nagini.
At present, Harry glanced around the dark forest with a frown on his face, as he lifted his lit wand, trying to discern where she could be. "Helena, do you know where snakes go-"
Suddenly, he jumped in the air and instinctively ducked as a whooshing thing zoomed a hair-split away from his head, twanging loudly as it pierced bark.
Harry stared, utterly startled and perplexed, at the arrow embedded on the tree trunk behind him, which would have speared his head if he hadn't moved out of the way out of sheer reflexes.
Don't use magic! cried out the Grey Lady anxiously. And lower your wand – NOW!
Harry obeyed instantly, though he gaped at the small figure that appeared through the trees and galloped towards him.
It had to be younger than him, with a face and torso of a little boy, and the body of a colt, carrying a bow in hands, already stringed with another arrow as he aimed at Harry again.
"You're trespassing, human!" spat the little centaur, in a high-pitched, squeaky voice like that of a toddler, which didn't serve much to sound threatening, no matter the bow and the harsh expression and hate-filled glare.
"We do not attack children, Bane," said a low, deep voice reprovingly.
And Harry suddenly found himself surrounded by more centaurs that had sprung from behind trees: all of them very young except the one who had spoken last, who seemed ancient, with long white hair, a strong torso marred with old scars, and a greyish pelt on his horse-like body.
"He's a wizard, Elder Muno!" snarled the little centaur, who was cantering up and down before Harry, menacingly striking his hooves on the snowed ground as he kept his bow aimed at him. "He's invading our territory!"
"He is but a child, Bane," interjected the old centaur, trotting forward to pierce Harry with a slow, considering, and pondering look. "And he's not alone."
"He's the one foretold!" piped in another little centaur that came cantering up towards them, looking smaller and younger than the rest, with a coltish palomino body and blue eyes that gazed at Harry with wonder, fascination, and excitement. "The companion of The Fates, isn't he?"
"The what?" said Harry baffled, blinking at them.
They're speaking of Santi, said the Grey Lady dourly. The Fates is what Centaurs believe him to be, when they see the signs of his existence in the Stars.
At that, Harry felt even more bewildered than before, while the old centaur gave the little one a proud and fond look, patting him on a shoulder. "Perhaps he is, Firenze." He shot Harry a grave look. "But we've been known to make mistakes when reading the movements of planets."
"But it is certain that his presence has brought changes in the Heavens," chirped Firenze, looking thrilled and intrigued as he gave Harry another glance over.
"Changes that should not have occurred," interjected the Elder Muno, as he shot Harry a piercing, narrowed-eyed look.
"We do not discuss before humans what we learn from the Stars!" snarled the other little centaur, the hostile one, as he glowered at Firenze and the Elder, and brought up his bow again to menacingly aim at Harry.
"Yes, that's quite correct," said the old centaur in his low, deep voice, to then turn to the little ones. "Go back to your lessons."
Grudgingly, they all trotted away, not without first shooting Harry looks of dislike or distrust.
"You too, Bane," added the old centaur sharply at the only two who remained, "and take your brother with you."
Bane narrowed his eyes and spat angrily in his high-pitched, squeaky voice, "He should not be allowed passage-"
"Go."
At the Elder's sharp command, Bane struck his small hooves on the ground furiously, but then turned around and galloped away, soon followed by the smaller one, Firenze, who gave Harry a parting glance filled with lingering, awed curiosity.
Harry was then left alone, to be confronted by the adult centaur, who stared at him as if seeing through him and beyond.
"I will allow you passage through our territory," said Elder Muno in his gravely tone of voice, laced with a hint of warning, "as long as you are carrying her within."
Harry gaped, while something in him stiffened.
"Her mother was always very respectful to my kind," continued the old centaur, "and it is due that we repay that kindness by granting her daughter access to the forest which was once hers and of the Founders."
My mother was 'respectful', snorted acidly the Grey Lady in his mind, because she wanted to glean from them the knowledge of their Seeing abilities.
"Beware of my condition," added Elder Muno sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Next time, if you're alone, you'll be forcefully expelled from our lands."
Harry warily nodded his head in understanding, before he said quickly, "I'm only looking for a friend. She's a snake. Do you know where she might be-"
"A snake? She'd be where all snakes go," replied the old centaur dismissively, before he turned and galloped away.
"And where's that!" cried out Harry with exasperation, but the centaur had already vanished into the darkness of the surrounding trees.
It's a snake you're looking for? said the Grey Lady impatiently. Then I know where it must be.
"You do?" said Harry, frowning. "How-"
Just follow my instructions, she said sharply, and we'll get there.
Harry did as she asked, and it wasn't that long until they reached a clearing in the forest – and a very strange one at that.
He hadn't realized for how long they had been in the Forbidden Forest, or all that they had walked, since they had to be at the other end, where the forest ended. He could see Hogsmeade not far away, and the hill filled with caves that he and Alphard had discovered, very close by.
But the strangest thing was the vast clearing itself. There wasn't a tree standing, no snow on the ground, that was blackened, no greenery in sight, as if they were on infertile land, and everything looked ravaged, as if a hurricane had passed through long ago, ripping out everything, leaving only stumps of trees or coils of old roots, all which seemed to have been scorched by fire.
"What is this place?" he breathed out, disconcerted.
A place ruined, wrecked, and laid to waste by magic, replied the Grey Lady flatly. Touch the ground, and you'll understand.
Mystified, Harry complied, crouching down and sinking his fingers into the black earth. It felt wet, as if snow melted as soon as it touched it, which was explained by the fact that the ground was unaccountably very warm.
"It's hot and we're in the middle of winter," muttered Harry, frowning. "I don't understand." He shot his surroundings a bewildered look. "What happened here? You said something about magic?"
Indeed, said the Grey Lady dourly. In their duel, they used such magic and powerful, terrible spells, that they destroyed this land. It still bears the lingering consequences, as you can see.
"A duel?" asked Harry bemused. "Whose?"
The Grey Lady heavily sighed, as she replied quietly, I was fifteen when it happened. My mother and I were in her Astronomy Tower, from there, we saw it. The beams of light coming from the faraway treetops of the Forbidden Forest, the clouds of smoke and blazes of fire, the blinding lights of powerful incantations, the destructive winds that tore… Indeed, such a display of power as none have ever seen since. Godric and Salazar were, after all, the most powerful wizards Wizarding kind has ever known.
"Here? They dueled?" Harry glanced around, flummoxed, and quite astounded at the devastation caused. He shook his head, frowning. "I thought they had only argued. Everyone thinks that – all books say that!"
Of course books tell such, retorted the Grey Lady with an incisive scoff. Helga and my mother didn't want students to know what had truly happened. Didn't want to alarm them. Thus, they were only told that Godric and Salazar had argued, and nothing more.
Harry blinked at that, still crouching and with fingers dug into moist, hot earth. He cocked his head to a side, then, intrigued and curious. "So who won the duel?"
Neither, boy! snapped the Grey Lady waspishly. Salazar didn't come back, did he? And was never seen or heard from again. And Godric returned to the castle, gravely injured. She let out a brittle bark of scathing laughter. Oh, my mother and Helga tried to aid him, to heal him as much as they could, but he only lingered for some months. He eventually succumbed to his injuries and died.
"From Salazar Slytherin's spells?" breathed out Harry with wide eyes, utterly taken aback. "So Godric Gryffindor was basically killed by him and didn't die of old age as books say? And Slytherin left right after the duel so he couldn't have known that he had actually managed to kill Gryffindor?"
Precisely, she replied flatly.
Dazed and perplexed by the revelations, Harry shook his head, before he sighed and stood up.
"Well, I'll just check on my friend and then we'll leave, alright?" he said firmly, as he looked around searchingly.
It made sense that Nagini had to be there, since snakes liked warm places, and the earth was moist and hot. He just wanted to make sure she was well, because he was already dead on his feet, feeling as if it must have been the longest night of his life.
He wanted nothing more than to return to Hogwarts and flop down on his bed. And he had many things to mull over, at that: all the strange things the Grey Lady had said, for starters.
Moreover, after knowing about the Room of Requirements, there were two problems he fully intended to solve with its aid.
"Nagini!" Harry hissed as he glanced around. "Come out, wherever you are!"
You're a Parselmouth! the Grey Lady gasped out, sounding astounded.
"What?" Harry jerked his head to a side, startled, before he scowled. "Of course I am!" He frowned the next second, as he added uncertainly, "Didn't Santi tell you?"
No, he did not! she snapped, sounding extremely aggravated and infuriated. He hasn't deigned to pay me a visit since the time you and I met!
"Oh," said Harry, then flapping a hand dismissively. "Well, now you know." Then he hissed impatiently, "Nagini, come out, I know you're here!"
It is not possible! bit out the Grey Lady, apparently not in the disposition of doing Harry the favor of not delving into the subject. There hasn't been a Parselmouth in ages, boy! And you cannot possibly be one, since the last of Salazar Slytherin's line died in-
She seemed to clamp shut her figurative mouth, for which Harry was very grateful, before she breathed out slowly, sounding struck, Her baby, and the Caretaker who stole it.
"What?" Harry skidded to a halt, bringing up his perusing gaze to stare forward unseeingly. "You were there? You know about that?"
In the next instant, he nearly slapped a hand on his forehead. Of course she had to know about that – she had been a ghost since the times of the Founders!
He hadn't even though about asking Hogwarts' ghosts about the matter! Granted, he hadn't known until that day who the Grey Lady was. But still, he had wholly focused on plotting on how to get that information from the paintings of the Castle. They had to have been witnesses to a lot of stuff that must have happened in Hogwarts throughout the centuries. Furthermore, there were paintings in the dungeons that could have seen something – like that of a ship struggling in a stormy sea, with the pirates who had wanted to throw Harry overboard.
But if he was understanding things correctly…
Harry's heart started to thunder loudly in his chest, as he breathed out excitedly, "It was you, wasn't it? You were the witness! You heard Sherisse Slytherin's cries for help, and you went there, and saw Morgon Gaunt taking their baby away from her, and you told someone in the school about it and they chased him!"
How do you know about such things… the Grey Lady's voice dwindled, before it turned acerbic. Of course, Santi must have told you.
"Yes!" said Harry animatedly, widely grinning in triumph. "And he wanted me to find out who had witnessed it!" He paused, frowning deeply. "Though I don't understand why he didn't simply tell me, if it was you-"
It wasn't me, said the Grey Lady curtly.
"What do you mean?" Harry demanded hotly, darkly scowling, certain his leg was being pulled. "You just said that-"
I was, indeed, in the dungeons, she interrupted in a sharp tone of voice, which turned grim and bitter, hiding from the Bloody Baron, with futile hopes he would not think of looking for me in his own territory.
"Right! So you did see-"
I only saw the Caretaker fleeing from a room with a wailing baby in his arms, snapped the Grey Lady impatiently. And Fawkes giving chase, shrieking, before he disappeared in a blaze of fire. He was the one who alerted-
"Fawkes?" Harry's eyes widened in bewilderment. "As in Albus Dumbledore's phoenix?"
Dumbledore's? she bit out snidely. Did you think that Fawkes hadn't chosen any other wizards before Dumbledore? Fawkes is as bound to Hogwarts as I am, boy! He has always been in the castle, choosing one of the professors to bind himself to, child! She paused to let out a scathing scoff. Oh, there's been decades in which none were worthy of him, given his standards, but he's always been around.
Harry didn't think he could feel any more confused than he already was. Though, slowly, the things Santi had said started to click together and make odd sense.
The 'witness' had answered the 'call for help' of Sherisse Slytherin, and she couldn't have been screaming that loudly, giving she was weak and dying from childbirth. And her rooms had been warded –though Morgon Gaunt had known how to go through them because he had gotten that information from Sherisse the night he had violated her.
It could only mean that Fawkes had heard her and gone through the obstacles of the wards in the same way in which he had when he had helped Harry.
Hadn't Santi said that phoenixes could hear cries for help and were able to cross barriers of magic when answering those? And that was why Fawkes had been able to fly into the portrait Harry had been in, no matter the magic that didn't allow the living to enter wizarding paintings.
And the 'witness' had tried to help Sherisse, because she had been 'good of heart, even though she was a Slytherin'. And Fawkes could have indeed helped her –Harry knew about the healing properties of phoenix tears ever since Alphard had bought a couple of them, to use for when they encountered the monster of the Chamber of Secrets, if they were attacked- but she had bled to death too quickly.
Fawkes saw, tried to help, chased Morgon Gaunt and then went to alert whichever professor he had been bound to – Santi had said that phoenixes could communicate thoughts to their bounded wizards through their singing. So that professor must have written down, one day, all that Fawkes had seen, and ages later, Mortimer Mullhorn must have found those records and written his unfinished book, copy of which the 'Pink Quill' later found and used to write her article in the Witch Weekly about Sherisse Slytherin and the 'M.G.' wizard who had taken advantage of her.
So, the witness had been Fawkes all along, who had always been in Hogwarts, apparently, though not always bounded to someone and not always in sight.
There was something he didn't understand, though.
"Why did Santi want me to know that it had been Fawkes?" Harry said in puzzlement. "Why is that important?"
How should I know? snapped the Grey Lady irritably. Why does Santiago do anything? Why does he want what he does!
Ignoring her mood, Harry frowned pensively as he said under his breath, "Unless what's important isn't that Fawkes was the witness, but rather that he's always been in the castle?" He cocked his head to a side. "Who was his first owner?"
I don't know, retorted the Grey Lady curtly.
Harry let out a heavy sigh, his excitement dwindling.
Vanishing the subject to a corner of his mind for later perusal, he crossed his arms over his chest, impatiently tapped his foot on the hot ground, and hissed warningly, "If you don't come out at the count of three, there'll be consequences to pay, Nagini!"
With narrowed eyes, Harry scoured with his gaze the moonlight surroundings, as he began, "One… Two…"
"Very well, I'm coming!" spat a put upon hissing voice. "I'm coming!"
Nagini's flat head poked out from underneath a coil of black, scorched tree roots, looking very irritated as she let out another vibrating, vexed hiss.
Harry scrunched his nose at the sight of her. She was incredibly filthy, her scales filled with dirt, as if she had dug for herself a cozy, warm little hole in the earth underneath the roots.
"Why didn't you meet me last Saturday?" he demanded angrily, glowering at her.
"I was busy," she hissed coolly, flicking the tip of her tail at him, which made mud splatter on the hem of his costly dress robes.
Harry narrowed his eyes at her, and said very suspiciously, "With what?"
The little snake opened her maws, baring her sharp tiny teeth, making her look as if she was giving him a gleeful, sharkish grin, as she declared triumphantly, "I have a mate – many of them!" She preened and let out a smug hiss, "I am wanted by all!"
A horrified Harry didn't have a chance to say anything as the ruined grounds seemed to come alive, countless of snakes of all sorts suddenly slithering out from behind tree stumps, from roots or the earth, all hissing at the same time as they dashed to Nagini's side and peered up at him.
"This is your pet human?"
"He truly is a Speaker!"
"Doesn't look much."
"This has to be the stupid one."
"Where's the other you say is the smart one, Nagini?"
"He's very scruffy looking – what's that on his head?"
"His hair!"
Harry stared at the snakes chattering and happily criticizing him, squirming and coiling and writhing all around Nagini, who now looked like a supremely haughty, worshiped, and fawned-over Queen with her harem, and he groaned, utterly dismayed.