Twist of Fate

by FirePhoenix8

Harry is taken the night Dumbledore is about to leave him with the Dursleys. With forces meddling in the timeline, Harry and Tom become the Riddle brothers. Follow the boys from the 1930s, WWII & Grindelwald, to canon years and a much changed future. Slash.

62. Part I: Chapter 61

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. Any original plots, ideas, and characters are mine.

AN:

Many little things happening in this chapter, mostly laying the foundations for what's to come :)

Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

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Part I: Chapter 61

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"….Lethifolds, also known as the Living Shrouds, are nocturnal creatures. They primarily attack sleeping humans. Although they have been known to chase awakened prey when particularly hungry…"

Harry did his best to mask his irritation as Professor Merrythought kept rattling off information in her usual harsh, strict tone.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, that had always been his favorite class in which he excelled as highly as in Charms, had lost some of its appeal for him. The reason was simple: it was the one class that Slytherins shared with Ravenclaws that year.

Even now he caught sight of Olive Hornby shooting Tom coy looks. The girl never lost a chance to sidle up to his brother during DADA, finding ways of getting partnered up with him when they had to practice spells and always managing to be selected into Tom's group when it came to projects.

"When attacking humans, a Lethifold enfolds them with its body, smothering its victim as it proceeds to digest them in a matter of seconds, leaving no trace at all behind…."

If Hornby and her gaggle of girlfriends weren't bad enough, there was also Tiberius McLaggen to consider.

The boy's pomposity had only increased after his grandfather, the erstwhile Minister of Magic Charlemagne McLaggen, had been sacked from office due to his incompetence and refusal to believe that Grindelwald could be a Dark Lord in the rise. After that rather ignominious fall from grace, the McLaggens had been quick to dissociate themselves from their relative, which resulted in Tiberius acting even more overbearing and pretentious than normal.

The Daily Prophet had recently reported that Charlemagne McLaggen had been sighted hiding in the jungles of Brazil, too afraid to return to England in case his own constituency had a mind to lynch him - news that had only turned Tiberius more outspoken and pedantic.

If the puffed up Ravenclaw boy confined his loud, self-important declarations to the subject of his disowned grandfather, Harry wouldn't have such a problem with him.

However, the boy didn't.

"…. yes, they won against Hufflepuff," Tiberius was saying as loudly as he dared, to a bunch of his housemates that had grouped together in one corner of the classroom - low enough not to be overheard by their teacher, but certainly wanting Harry and Alphard to overhear him, as they were just a few feet away. "But I saw no indication that their Chasers are particularly brilliant flyers as everyone else is saying."

The boy thrust his nose high in the air, as he shot Harry and Alphard a quick glance from the corner of his eyes. "It's quite clear that Black only got on the team because his aunt is the Captain. I don't think they're uncommonly talented at all. Evidently, it's all because of their brooms. After all, both Blacks have Comets 360, and Riddle has a Tinderblast, which I feel is quite an unfair advantage. It most certainly should not be allowed-"

In two days, Slytherin was going to play against Ravenclaw and all the usual intimidation tactics were being employed in the days preceding the match.

Not that his own housemates were above using dirty tricks to mine the confidence of Ravenclaws' Quidditch players, but that was expected from Slytherins, wasn't it? Harry wasn't even ashamed or annoyed by such schemes. They were useful, and more importantly, they worked.

However, it didn't mean that it did not irk him to the extreme to have Tiberius McLaggen pompously spouting about such things when they were in the middle of class – a class Harry valued and usually enjoyed.

"Can anyone tell me what is the only known defense against a Lethifold?"

Galatea Merrythought's demanding voice yanked Harry out of his grumpy thoughts, allowing him to take notice that, predictably, Tom's hand was already in the air before the teacher could finish her prompting.

"The Patronus Charm, professor," Tom said in a firm, matter-of-fact tone.

Professor Merrythought, usually a very stern and cold-looking witch, beamed at him. "Precisely. Twenty points to Slytherin!"

The Ravenclaws grumbled under their breaths –with the exception of Olive and her entourage, who shot Tom admiring looks- while the Slytherins smirked, eyeing Tom with a kind of possessive, proud zealousness.

Harry inwardly sighed with exasperation. That was another reason he wasn't enjoying his lessons as much as usual, lately.

In the months following The Slug Club's first gathering, all the teachers seemed to have softened even further towards Tom. Harry had the suspicion that their Head of House had told the whole Staff about what a self-sacrificing, humble orphan Tom was, in need of much aid to bolster up his self-confidence – to think of his own future and not only that of Harry's, supposedly.

Tom, of course, had played his part beautifully.

His brother had always answered questions in class with utter brilliancy and perfection, but progressively, he had begun voicing his replies with much more strength and conviction.

Their professors certainly thought that Tom was blossoming under their tender care. Harry had been catching sight of expressions of satisfaction and pride in most of their teacher's faces, like the one on Professor Merrythought right at that moment.

"Does that mean," piped up Tiberius McLaggen boldly, with a highly interested expression on his face that was shared by most of his housemates, "that you'll be teaching us the Patronus Charm, ma'am?"

A ripple of excitement washed through the class at that, thrilled whispers and murmurs quickly spreading.

"I'm afraid not," said Galatea Merrythought sharply, her eyes gaining their usual cold, harsh look as she glanced away from Tom to survey the rest of them. "The Patronus Charm is not part of Hogwarts' syllabus. It is a highly advanced-"

"Professor Tilly Toke," interrupted Capricia Carrow, her eyes narrowing to slits, her expression not crestfallen as that of all the rest, but rather sneeringly condemning, "promised to teach us the Patronus Charm on our Seventh Year."

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood, as Alphard shot him a quizzical glance, but he made a point of focusing on the Slytherin girl.

Trust her to have remembered that. Capricia Carrow had rather despised Toke after the wizard had used her as an example of how the Levitation Charm could be used to save lives.

It was one of Harry's fondest memories about the wizard who had died aiding him, no matter the man's reasons for it.

"As Professor Tilly Toke is, I believe, dead," snapped Merrythought briskly, not looking too fazed by it, "it is neither here nor there what he deigned to promise his students - with no authority or permission, I might add."

Disgruntled murmurs broke in the classroom, and the witch swept them all with a severe look, as she raised her voice, "However, we will be learning a rather simple manner of how to protect oneself from being chased by a Lethifold."

With a flick of her wand, a large trunk that had been at the furthest corner of the room and that clearly no one had noticed before, came skidding into the middle of the classroom where they were all standing, with desks and chairs pushed against the walls as usual when it was one of their practice lessons.

Professor Merrythought gave the trunk a brisk tap with her wand, and it rattled ominously, as she continued undisturbed, "As you'll soon see, Lethifolds move along the ground, gliding-"

"Soon see?" echoed Myrtle Mimbletinion in a screech, her eyes wide with horror behind her large, thick eyeglasses, her pimpled face going stark white. "You have one THERE?"

With his ears ringing, and gritting his teeth, Harry momentarily closed his eyes and tried to summon patience and understanding, failing miserably.

She, finally, was probably the main reason why Harry had stopped looking forward to DADA with the Ravenclaws.

That year they had finished with basic defensive spells and had begun studying dangerous magical creatures of all sorts and how protect themselves from such, and Moaning Myrtle had consistently shown utter terror for anything more frightening than a Cornish Pixie.

Though, by the look on her face now, it appeared that the mere idea of a smothering, murdering Lethifold caused abject, mindless fear.

"Yes," said Galatea Merrythought, almost spitting out the words as her gaze landed on Myrtle, one of the witch's eyebrows twitching with annoyance. "As in our all previous lessons, I have brought a live specimen for us to-"

Myrtle shrieked when the trunk shook and clanked once more, the girl jumping several steps back, which made her bump against Olive and her cronies, who made disgusted noises from the back of their throats and brusquely pushed Myrtle away.

Myrtle, of course, didn't take kindly to that, and began wailing in an ear-splitting, high-pitched voice, "I don't want to be here! I don't want to see a Lethifold!"

"Cease your whining, you silly girl," barked Professor Merrythought, her irritation now plain on her narrow, thin face. "You will be in no danger in my classroom-"

"I WANT TO LEAVE!" shrieked Myrtle in utter terror as the trunk rattled again, the girl now cowering further back, pressing herself against clumps of students, as though trying to find a way through which to escape.

"Go, then!" snapped Galatea Merrythought thunderously. "You are excused from this lesson!"

With a flick of the witch's wand, the classroom door flung open, and Myrtle certainly didn't think about it twice.

Letting out a wailing screech from the top of her lungs, she ran out of the room so quickly that she was merely a blur, as everyone instantly made way for her.

There was a massive sigh of relief when Professor Merrythought slammed the door shut with another wave of her wand, sparing their eardrums from further abuse when Myrtle's distant shrieks could no longer be heard.

"Form pairs of two," then barked Galatea Merrythought, rounding on them with a livid expression her face, her tone only softening a mite as she added, "Mr. Riddle, be so kind as to aid me in distributing these..."

Certainly knowing that she was referring to Tom and not him, Harry automatically moved closer to Alphard as he watched how his brother reached the teacher's desk, which was now laden with piles of pots.

Several minutes later, Harry and Alphard glanced down at the pot they had been given to share. Strangely enough, it was filled with small rubber balls.

"Very well," said Professor Merrythought sharply as she stood beside the rattling trunk once more, "as I was saying, Lethifolds glide over the ground. Yet, their movement can be impeded by throwing seemingly unobtrusive obstacles in their path, such as the rubber balls you are now holding. On the count of three, once I have opened the trunk, I want you all to begin throwing the balls in its way…."

As the witch began counting aloud, Harry instantly turned to grab a handful of rubber balls from their pot, which Alphard was holding.

And then blinked, befuddled, when he saw it was suddenly empty.

"Where are the-" began Harry as he glanced up at his friend, but his voice trailed into nothingness as he gawked at boy.

Alphard was standing there, with empty pot in hands and with a hazy, dreamy expression on his face, but that wasn't what was making Harry gape. But rather the fact that his friend's cheeks were weirdly distended, hugely round, like that of a blowfish, so big, as though he had stuffed inside-

Harry ogled at him, dumbfounded. "Did you stick the rubber balls in your gob?"

"W'at?" came a muffled, choked, unintelligible sound from Alphard's overstuffed mouth, and apparently the boy suddenly realized what he had inexplicably done, because he went red and began hacking and spitting out the contents of his mouth.

Harry stared at the pot now containing slimy, saliva-drenched rubber balls, and gawked at his friend once more. "Why did you do that?"

They were surrounded by enthusiastic cries. Distantly, he even saw a weird shadow weaving through the classroom, looking distressed, gliding jerkily from one side to the other as it was pelted with rubber balls by the rest of the students - undoubtedly the Lethifold, which resembled nothing but an undulating, misty, thick black cloak.

"I think I'm going mad," whispered Alphard in a strangled voice, his grey eyes distressed, his cheeks now pale, as he grasped Harry by the lapels of his school robes with the hand that wasn't clutching the pot.

Harry swallowed thickly at that, dismayed, because he thought he had an idea regarding what it was all about.

He had noticed Alphard acting strangely during the past week, every since they had drank the potion of the Mayan ritual. And he himself had felt some very weird things as well.

As the guide book had said, they had indeed been having nightly dreams about being their animal forms. Very much like the first hallucinatory experience they had had in the Room of Requirements: Harry always dreamed about soaring above snow-capped mountains, and roaring puffs of fire, and batting powerful wings, and even hunting… hunting humans.

Once, he had dreamed he had flown into what had decidedly looked like a muggle village, with claws extended as he swooped down in the middle of the night, grasping a little boy who had been lingering about. Clutching the screaming child and then soaring high up into the dark skies with a roar of delighted triumph – and hunger.

Harry had made himself not to think about it for too long. After all, it wasn't real. He was merely seeing scenes from the life of one of his Animagus form's kind – generic at best.

It was the other things –things that the guide book had certainly not mentioned- that had been worrying him.

Harry had always preferred any type of meat to be cooked medium-rare, at most, yet lately he had been hungering for nearly burnt steaks and chicken legs. Alphard for his part, seemed to have lost his appetite for the first couple of days, until one evening in which there had been a wide plate of corn cobs for dinner in the Great Hall.

Alphard had dived for it, nearly jumping across the Slytherin Table to reach it, with a strange sort of desperation. And in an instant, his friend had frantically nibbled and gobbled down eight cobs.

After that, Alphard had stopped attending the Great Hall for meals. Harry suspected his friend had resorted to going to the kitchens instead, as to no longer make a spectacle of himself.

He didn't know what the house-elves had been feeding the boy, but Alphard had certainly been looking less starved, as well as increasingly jittery and shameful.

Harry, for his part, had also been feeling weird sensations.

His eyesight –which he had considered excellent after he had lost his eyeglasses in Norway and Dorea had made him drink an eyesight-correcting potion- became even keener and sharper at the most unexpected of moments, never lasting for long, but always catching him by surprise, startling him when he could suddenly see every freckle on a boy's face from across the Great Hall or the grainy shape of every speck of dust at the furthest end of a corridor.

Furthermore, he could no longer sit still, not on the bench of the Slytherin Table in the Great Hall or on chairs during class time. He always squirmed on his seat, highly uncomfortable whilst feeling his backbone tingling, as though a long tail was about to spring out from his last vertebra.

And Tom was already giving him harsh glances every time he fidgeted on his seat, as though Harry was behaving like a little boy who hadn't yet learned how to hold his pee, or worse, shooting him narrowed-eyed, suspicious looks.

Not to mention that his shoulders blades kept itching and aching, as though a pair of wings were bursting to come forth.

It was all highly unsettling – because none of it was supposed to happen.

"I think," continued Alphard in a choked voice, his eyes wide with anguish, "that we botched it somehow. I think we made it more powerful than it was supposed to be."

Harry shifted nervously on his feet, feeling a twist of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn't been in the best of moods when he had been casting those strange-sounding Mayan spells at the magical mushroom. He was quite certain, then, that he had been at fault, and not Alphard's brewing skills.

"And it won't stop," whispered Alphard frantically, his voice carrying a high-pitched tone of agony. "I don't think it will ever stop until we manage to transform!"

"Maybe," murmured Harry quietly, shooting their surroundings a wary look to ascertain they weren't being watched or overheard. Thankfully, it didn't seem that way. Everyone was still distracted with the fleeing Lethifold. "Maybe we should go to the Infirmary. Miss Nightingale might know how to help us-"

"We can't!" nearly shrieked Alphard in alarm, violently shaking his head and looking more anxious and disconsolate than ever before, as he tightened his clutch on Harry's robes. "What we did is illegal – we could face the Wizengamot for it!"

"Then what do we do?" pressed Harry, highly perturbed.

Alphard gulped loudly, before he whispered frenziedly, "We have to find out what we are. And we have to learn how to transform as soon as possible!"

At that, Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head to a side, as a slow grin formed on his face. "I don't think you will have any problems with the first part. After what I've seen-" he pointedly gestured at the pot in Alphard's hand "-it's pretty clear that you're some sort of –"

"Don't say it!" moaned Alphard, sounding distressed and abashed.

Harry blinked at him, startled. "But it's a good thing! We both know that small, inconspicuous forms are the most useful-"

Alphard shook his head at him, looking irked, mutinous, and decidedly sullen, as he turned his back to Harry and abruptly strode towards the teacher's desk with pot in hand, only then Harry realizing that the class had ended.

---

Three hours later, after their last class of the day, Harry was cheerily floating on clouds.

'Admit aloud that you're a complete dimwit-'

Harry slightly frowned as the silky voice permeated through his head, meshing with the warm and comforting folds snugly coddling his mind, making him feel utterly relaxed, blissfully unconcerned and happy.

Opening his mouth, he paused, his frown deepening.

Why had he been about to say that he was an idiot? Because he wasn't, thought Harry miffed and mutinous, no matter what other people thought-

'Tell what you know to be the truth,' insisted the soft, crooning voice, though this time with a touch of angered asperity. 'Say that you're a half-brained imbecile. And,' added the voice, now laced with smugness, 'state who is Hogwarts' most brilliant student of all.'

Well, that was easy, it was his brother Tom. But why would he say it aloud?

Harry slowly shook his head. His brother was already fatheaded enough and full of himself as it was.

And what if Tom overheard him? His brother would become unbearable if he somehow witnessed Harry proclaiming him 'the most brilliant of all' – and that sounded silly, anyway.

Not even if he was drawn through the streets by stampeding hippogriffs would he ever say such a thing-

'Say it!' snapped the voice crossly, reverberating in his mind like a whiplash.

No, he didn't think so, decided Harry firmly, unwittingly clamping his mouth shut.

He wouldn't be caught dead singing his brother's praises, ever, and something funny was going on: his forehead was burning fiercely and he wanted to rub his scar, and his body was itchy, and he was beginning to feel a mite irked-

Abruptly, he heard a loud snarl of fury and Harry blinked, his knees nearly buckling under his weight when he found himself limply standing in the middle of the Room of Requirements.

Momentarily disoriented, he staggered a few steps backwards, as he glanced around and slowly remembered – Room of Requirements, looking like the Slytherins' Dueling Chamber, imitating its appearance and magic, to be able to practice the Dark Arts unnoticed by the school's wards… right… and Tom's face, there, suddenly inches away from his, seething with fury.

"How do you do it!" demanded Tom irately, his handsome features contorted, his dark blue eyes narrowed to slits, like burning embers.

Harry stared at him for a moment, and then grinned widely. "It didn't work? You failed to Imperio me – again?"

"How. do. you. do. it," bit out Tom in a very low, ominous tone, portending great doom to befall him if Harry failed to give a prompt, satisfying explanation.

Utterly unfazed by his brother's creepy, menacing aura – much used to it by now- Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

Tom shot him a look of utmost disgust, before he muttered under his breath angrily, as though raving to himself, "I do not understand it. I am infinitely more powerful than the idiot, vastly more knowledgeable and immeasurably cleverer… I cannot be surpassed in this when it took the imbecile months to learn the Killing and Cruciatus Curses, and I mastered those in just one week-"

"The 'imbecile' can hear you, you know?" interjected Harry waspishly, scowling.

Tom's gaze flickered back to him, with piercing intensity, as though trying to flay him layer by layer, as he continued in a louder voice, "It has to be something else." His eyes narrowed to slits once more, calculatingly. "Perhaps…" He cast him a nasty, scornful sneer. "Perhaps it's your idiotic pigheadedness-"

"Pigheadedness?" interrupted Harry, scoffing. "Funny. Grindelwald's book calls it something else, doesn't it? Says it's a matter of willpower and-"

"You do not have stronger willpower than I!" snarled Tom, venomously glaring at him.

"And yet," said Harry coolly, as he shot him a smug, toothy grin, "it wasn't me who was impersonating a chicken yesterday."

Tom flushed red with rage, and Harry was wise enough not to chuckle –though he did, in his insides, as he had done the other day for hours on end.

It had rather surprised them both that Harry seemed to have a knack for the Imperius Curse. It was the last of the Unforgivables Curses that they were learning, and it had become apparent at once that he could throw it off with relative ease. And even though Tom had mastered how to cast it almost immediately when practicing with live animals, so had Harry, much to their astonishment.

Maybe it was due to the fact that he had had such trouble with the other two Unforgivables because he abhorred causing pain, having to see the animals writhing and screeching with agony, or to see their bodies lay motionless on the floor, dead still and dull-eyed.

The Imperius Curse, though he considered it as awful as the other two, had the sole benefit that he didn't feel so terrible with himself after casting it. He didn't have to bear with shrieks of pain or deadened eyes, at least.

Furthermore, he had rather enjoyed himself the other day when they had entered the phase of leaving animals aside to practice on each other.

On the other hand, Tom hadn't been amused when Harry had made him prance and hop around the room, flapping his arms as though they were wings, cackling and cooing.

And by the time that Tom had crouched on the floor with knees set wide apart, following Harry's order of 'Now lay your baby egg like a good mother hen', he had known he had been in serious trouble.

His scar had flared with blinding pain, making Harry wince, grunt, and realize that even if his brother couldn't throw his Imperio off, Tom was still managing to plot his death in his befuddled, fuzzy brain.

As one who had come to highly value his own hide, Harry had quickly flicked his wand and ended the curse just as Tom had begun to look constipated, and it was only thanks to his fast reflexes that he managed to dodge his brother's savage retaliation.

In the second that it took Tom to recover and stand up straight with a hiss of outraged fury, a jolt of light had shot towards Harry –and by its color, he suspected it had been one of his brother's well-practiced Cruciatus Curses.

Of course, it had narrowly missed him as he dived to a side, and he hadn't thought about it twice before he scampered out of the Room of Requirements, guffawing with laughter.

"Do not dare to ever," spat Tom, his eyes flashing murderously, "mention that again. It was merely a fluke!" He skewered Harry with an intense gaze, as he added crisply, "Today, you will cast the curse on me until I manage to defeat it."

"Alright," muttered Harry with a roll of his eyes.

Tom narrowed his eyes at him, as he whispered in his most silky, soft, and lethal of tones, "Beware. Make me humiliate myself again and you shall pay direly for it, little brother."

Instantly, Harry wiped off the expression on his face, swallowed thickly, and gave a jerky nod of the head.

Apparently having decided that he had instilled abject, terrified fearfulness in him, Tom smirked as he waved a hand grandiosely. "Begin."

And Harry did.

Though, just like the other day -no matter what he had promised to Tom- he wasn't about to forego the chance of bringing his brother down a couple of notches, of enjoying some good-natured fun that could really hurt no one, and of gifting himself with memories that he would treasure till his last dying breath.

Thirty minutes later, after having cast a nonstop succession of Imperius Curses making Tom believe he was a kitten licking itself clean to then chase an imaginary ball of yarn, a monkey scratching fleas from under its armpits, and a baby seal playing ball with its tail and flapping flippers, Harry instantly hightailed it and dashed out of the room, followed by Tom's furious roar, "YOU COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE-"

"Sorry!" shouted back Harry as he kept running as fast as his legs could carry him, choking with sniggers and chortles. "Got Quidditch practice - see you later!"

Secure in the knowledge that as soon as he was back in the midst of the general population of Hogwarts he would be untouchable, Harry reveled in the images forever etched in his mind – his best to date, he admitted quite delightedly and proudly.

Nevertheless, he would make sure to sleep in some empty classroom that night – no point in giving his brother an easy chance to get even.

Especially since he knew that Tom was holding a grudge ever since Harry had managed to make him see reason regarding the 'Zar issue'.

---

A screechy, wailing sound made Harry jerk awake, groaning as he grasped his wand from the nightstand and gave it a flick, muttering sleepily, "Tempus!"

Floating, glittering red numbers made him realize it was seven in the morning, as expected since he had cast the alarm spell the previous night and set it precisely for that ungodly hour.

Groggily rubbing his face and squinting in the darkness, Harry muttered, "Lumos!"

He gawked as the bright globe of light emanating from the tip of his wand washed his surroundings.

He was in his bed, amidst mounds of feathers, with bed sheets thoroughly torn, and he even caught sight of several holes and burn marks.

Not to mention that both his pajama top and bottom were dangling off his body like pieces of tattered rags joined by flimsy, frail threads, as though having been attacked by a pair of demented scissors.

Dazedly turning around, he eyed his pillow, which was completely ravaged, with the stuffing ripped out of it – which would explain the feathers….

Harry swallowed thickly. It all seemed to indicate that something had happened during his sleep, when he had been dreaming that he was his animal form, fighting against what had looked like some sort of enormous hawk.

Was it possible that he had transformed?

Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath with a hitch of dismay, Harry quickly rose to his feet. He didn't have the time to spend in befuddled musings, he had a Quidditch match to prepare for.

After casting a series of haphazard spells to mend it all as best he could, he tiptoed around the dormitory, accompanied by the snores of Neron Lestrange and Thaddeus Avery as he collected some of his belongings to take a quick, invigorating shower.

Though he paused by Alphard's bed, seeing that the boy's curtains were drawn shut.

Harry shook his head, realizing his friend still hadn't woken up.

"Al, get up, quick," hissed out Harry quietly, as he yanked one curtain open. "We can't be late-"

He stared, feeling a frisson of alarm and worry. Alphard's bed was empty. It looked slept in, but the boy wasn't there.

Harry quickly darted glances around the gloomy darkness of the dormitory. All the others were still asleep but there was no sign of Alphard anywhere.

Taking a deep breath, telling himself that it just meant that the boy must already be making his way to the Quidditch Pitch to fly around and warm up, he hastened to get ready – just in case.

Two hours later, donning his Quidditch robes and with his Tinderblast in hand, Harry was truly panicking.

The whole House was awake by then, even though most slept in on Sundays, clearly because they all intended to go to the game.

He had already seen Dorea and his other teammates in the Great Hall for breakfast, but there was no sign of Alphard anywhere.

"What do you mean that he wasn't in your dorm?" bit out Dorea Black, pining him with grey eyes narrowed to slits, as she paused a fork holding a piece of fruit from reaching her mouth as Harry anxiously hovered by her side of the Slytherin Table. "Where is he, then?"

"I don't know!" said Harry fretfully. "I've looked everywhere for two hours-"

"Then look some more!" snapped Dorea as she slammed her fork on the table, glaring at him. "The match against Ravenclaw starts in an hour and I want to go over tactics with the whole team-"

Harry didn't linger to hear the rest of it as the girl began to get more wind under her sails, her tone rising in anger.

He was soon running all over the castle, asking random students if they had seen Alphard.

The only thing he got in return were giggles from some girls that eyed him in his Quidditch uniform with appraising glances and fluttering eyelashes, grunts of denial from older boys, or just shakes of the head from the rest.

All the while, Harry kept casting the Tempus Charm, seeing his time running out.

He had even gone back to their dormitory, to check there once more, but with no success. At least he had had the presence of mind to get Alphard's Quidditch equipment –robes, pads, boots and gloves- along with the shrunken Comet 360 from the boy's trunk, stuffing it all in a rucksack.

It was a good thing that Harry knew the locking charms of Alphard's trunk, since the boy had insisted on it. The times they had asked Charlus Potter for his Invisibility Cloak, Alphard always kept it in his trunk and had wanted Harry to be able to access it if he wanted to.

With rucksack now hoisted on a shoulder, and panting to catch his breath, Harry stood before the great, opened front doors of Hogwarts, frantically glancing at all sides as lingering students passed him by in a rush.

The last Tempus spell had informed him that he merely had twenty minutes to go before the match began, most students having already left for the Pitch.

"HAS ANYONE SEEN ALPHARD BLACK?" Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs, at the world in general, absolutely frenzied and at the end of his wits.

"Black haire' boy, ain't he? Runty?" said a gruff voice, with a thick cockney accent.

Harry swiveled around at that, and had to crane his neck far back to see who had spoken.

A massive, hulking boy was squinting down at him, of wiry, bushy, tangled dark hair and beady black eyes, wearing scruffy, woolen school robes smudged with dirt.

Harry recognized him. He was that half-Giant first-year boy that the Prewetts twins had taken a shine to.

"Runty?" echoed Harry momentarily bewildered, before he realized that anyone would seem 'runty' to the enormous boy before him. "Yeah, I suppose." His green eyes widened hopefully, as he rushed out, "Have you seen him, then?"

"I might've," grumbled the boy, squinting down at him, suspiciously. "Ye're his friend, ain't ye? I've seen the pair of ye runnin' around – always togethe'."

"Yes, we're friends," said Harry impatiently. "So have you seen him or not?"

The half-Giant gave him a considering, narrowed-eyed look. Harry noticed the boy's small, beady eyes straying to the large Slytherin crest on his green and silver Quidditch robes. Clearly the boy didn't think much of it, as an expression of dislike, wariness, and even greater suspicion crossed his broad, blunt face.

"Fine. Com' wit' me," grunted the boy a second later, as he clumbered around and took thundering steps down the entrance stairway of the castle.

Having to sprint to catch up with the boy's immense strides, Harry flung his Tinderblast over a shoulder, secured the rucksack, and followed him, panting.

"I'm Hagrid," rumbled the boy, shooting him a quick, assessing look. "Rubeus Hagrid."

"Harry Riddle," said Harry wheezily as he attempted to keep up with the boy's lumbering gait.

Hagrid grunted at that. "I know. Prewetts told me about ye." He shot him a squinty-eyed look. "Said ye were alrigh', even if ye're a Snake."

"I reckon I am," said Harry absentmindedly, puzzled as he realized they were heading towards the Forbidden Forest. "Where are we going?"

"To yer friend," replied Hagrid gruffly.

Harry shot him a look of great astonishment and concern, as he said thickly, "He's… in the forest?"

"Aye," grumbled Hagrid shortly.

Not knowing what else to ask or say to the strange, intimidating boy, and rather wanting to distract himself from the fact that time was running short, Harry observed him as they made their way into the Forbidden Forest.

He caught sight of the weirdest wand he had ever seen poking out from of the boy's pocket. It was very short, thick and stubby, with big knots in its wood.

A moment later, Harry nearly tripped over a tree root as he caught sight of something else: a spindly, hairy thing had crawled out of the half-Giant's bulging pocket, looking like some sort of stick-like, furred leg-

"What's that?" Harry gasped in alarm, pointing at it.

"Whot's wot?" Hagrid frowned at him, before his beady gaze followed the direction of Harry's fingertip, and he quickly stuffed a massive hand inside the pocket, shooting him a shifty look, as he muttered quickly, "Just, er… a Chocolate Frog I'm savin' fer laters."

"That didn't look like a –"

"We're almost ther'!" boomed Hagrid as he suddenly quickened his earth-shattering strides.

Everything else vanishing from his mind, Harry hurried after him, urgently glancing around to catch sight of wherever Alphard was.

Though he was beginning to think that maybe he shouldn't have been so stupidly trusting. Perhaps the half-Giant was luring him there to waste his time, to get revenge on Slytherin House by making him be late for the match, or something.

He wouldn't put it past him, the boy was a Gryffindor after all. Not the smartest and certainly not too cunning in general, but they did like their nasty pranks.

"Ther'," said Hagrid as he halted abruptly.

"There?" repeated Harry, glancing around. He saw nothing but immensely tall, ancient trees all around them. "There what?"

"He's up ther'," said Hagrid gruffly, gesturing with a massive hand. "I saw 'im earlier when I was – er…" The half-Giant shifted uncomfortably, for some reason wriggling the hand he had stuck inside his bulging pocket. "Well… was just strollin' around, I was, for a bit of fresh air - and saw 'im." Hagrid's tone softened, as he added, "Didn't have the heart to wake 'im. He looks so peaceful, dozin' up ther'."

Having barely caught half of what the boy said, Harry had already glanced up and paled.

Indeed, there Alphard was, still in his pajamas, high up in one of the branches of the tree in front of them, curled on himself and snoring placidly, as though it was the most comfortable spot in the world and his best, restful sleep in ages.

Harry couldn't entirely fathom how Alphard had managed to get all the way up there, though there was little doubt that he had to come down, post-haste.

However, he wasn't sure that shouting his name would be a good idea, not if it would startle Alphard and perhaps make him fall.

Hastily glancing around, Harry immediately leaped to a side to grab several pebbles as he settled his Tinderblast and rucksack securely against a nearby tree.

Squinting up his eyes against the glare of the morning sun, he took aim and hurled a pebble.

It struck the dozing Alphard right smack in the middle of the forehead. Though the boy merely scratched his forehead sleepily, and didn't wake up.

Exasperated, Harry took aim and tried again, with all the strength he could muster. This time, it hit Alphard squarely in the face, hard and right between the eyes, as Harry had planned.

With a cry of pain, the boy's grey eyes flew open, and then widened in horror as he scrambled on his branch, obviously stunned and panicked when finding himself in such a place.

"Don't move!" shouted Harry immediately.

"Harry?" Alphard said in a high-pitched squeak, as he attempted to balance precariously on the branch, hugging it tightly with arms and legs. "What's happened? Where I am? What am I doing up here!"

"Wouldn' we all like to know!" chortled Hagrid cheerily. "Reckon ye have a thing fer nature and the outdoors. I do too-"

"Who's that?" Alphard stared down at them with wide eyes.

"Rubeus Hagrid. He…um – found you," replied Harry, before he glanced at the half-Giant. "Can you do a Levitation Charm? It would be best if we both cast it at him to bring him down, to be safe-"

"Ain't great shakes at magic, meself," muttered Hagrid, before he brightened. "No need fer magic, most times, really. I can catch 'im!"

"What? What did he say?" yelled Alphard, sounding highly alarmed.

"Tiny, short thing of a wizard, me dad is," Hagrid rumbled on, chortling with fondness. "I've always carried 'im around, easy. He likes it!" He gazed up at Alphard, assessingly, before he cracked a good-natured grin. "It'd be easy with ye too – I'll catch ye!"

"No, no! I don't think that's a good idea-" began Alphard in a clearly highly dubious and panicked tone of voice. "I rather you use a Levitation Charm, Harry-"

"Rubbish!" chuckled Hagrid, demonstratively holding out his thick arms. "I can catch ye, ye'll see! Jump!"

"It would be faster, Al," said Harry musingly. "But I'll cast several Cushioning Charms around Hagrid to break your fall, just in case you don't land in his arms. Alright?"

"I suppose," said Alphard feebly, not looking at all thrilled with the idea.

Harry cast around the charms on the grounds surrounding Hagrid and then gave Alphard the thumbs up. "Ready – jump!"

Visibly swallowing, Alphard disentangled himself from his branch, crouched and scrunched his eyes shut, before he leaped.

Harry's eyebrows shot upwards as he saw that everything went splendidly well, in an instant. Hagrid effortlessly caught Alphard, not even buckling the slightest at the impact of the weight or taking an unsteady step back.

Soon, the half-Giant gently settled Alphard on the ground, grinning. "See? Told ye."

"Thanks," breathed out Alphard, looking winded nonetheless, with pine needles sticking from his disheveled hair and smudges of soil staining his pajamas.

Harry nodded, shooting the halfbreed boy a warm smile. "Yeah, we owe you."

Really, Felix and Felicity's open displays of affection for the boy seemed to be deserved. The half-Giant wasn't that bad after all. Rather kind and good-natured, to be honest.

Hagrid's cheeks flushed, as he flapped a massive hand and mumbled awkwardly, "No nee' to mention it."

Harry smiled at him even more widely, before he remembered and went white, flicking his wand as he muttered anxiously, "Tempus!"

"Is that the hour?" cried out Alphard utterly aghast.

"We've only got five minutes left," said Harry urgently as he reached his rucksack and thrust it to his friend. "Everything's there, change – quickly!"

They were soon shouting their thanks and farewells to Hagrid as they dashed above the Forbidden Forest on their brooms, zooming towards the Quidditch Pitch, from where they could hear the Commentator obnoxiously wondering where the two missing Chasers of Slytherin's Team were.

---

Three hours later, Dorea Black was shouting at them, looking so beside herself with fury that her charmed hair was no longer a sleek sheet of glossy black hair but a frizzy, disorderly mane, bristling, as though crackling with electricity.

"Never have I been so disgusted – so humiliated!" she shrieked, her grey eyes looking as though they were spitting fire. "What were you thinking? What were you doing! I've never seen anyone play so dreadfully in all my years as Captain!"

Alphard had his head hung low, looking miserable. Harry wasn't feeling much better, though he kept holding Dorea's outraged, furious glare with a steady gaze.

He felt immensely guilty, yes, and deserving of the harsh scolding, though he couldn't see how they could have avoided everything that had happened during the match.

It had all gone wrong.

Alphard had at times flown as though terrified of being in mid air with nothing solid connecting him to the ground, fumbling several passes Dorea had made at him. Or just seemingly became distracted, a weird expression of longing crossing his face as he gazed at the distant Forbidden Forest, dreamily.

Harry, for his part, hadn't been any better, though his ailments had been different.

All throughout the match his shoulders blades had kept itching, his Tinderblast felt unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and redundant under him, and at times he had dazedly found himself flying off high up into the sky, soaring aimlessly but with a glorious sensation enveloping him, only coming back to himself due to Dorea's roars and shouts from the Quidditch Pitch.

Needless to say, they had lost the match. Though, he supposed, the very last part had been the worse-

"And you, Riddle," she spat as though his name was a dire malediction as she pointed a finger at him, visibly trembling with rage. "Why did you catch the Snitch, for Mordred's sake? You're not the Seeker!"

"I didn't mean to!" howled Harry heatedly, for what he felt was the umpteenth time. "I told you, I told Professor Sykes – I just felt something fluttering around me. I didn't even see it. I thought it was a bug or something and I just caught it to get rid of it, so that it wouldn't bother me!"

"That's no excuse!" thundered Dorea looking livid. "You should have paid more attention. And if you were going to decide to catch the Snitch, you should have done it when we were in the lead – not when Ravenclaw was winning!"

"I didn't decide to catch it!" roared Harry indignantly. "And how was I supposed to know that Sykes would rule that the match was over when a Chaser caught the Snitch-"

"You heard her," growled Dorea through gritted teeth. "She found a precedence in Quidditch Throughout the Ages. In the World Cup of 1356, the Ukrainian Chaser caught the Snitch and-"

"And they settled it with a penalty for the Ukrainian Team, yes, I remember," snapped Harry, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wasn't my fault, though, was it, that you missed the goal hoop?"

Dorea looked ready to throttle him as she snarled, "How was I supposed to score the Quaffle when I had the entirety of Ravenclaw's Team piled up in front of the hoops!"

"Maybe if you had let either Harry or me do the penalty," murmured Alphard softly, "we could have scored-"

"As if I had been about to trust either of you two idiots!" bellowed Dorea irately, glowering at them. "After that ignominious, pathetic display of-"

"We're sorry," Alphard was quick to mumble, shamefacedly.

"There will be consequences for this," spat Dorea, narrowing her seething eyes at them. "For both of you. Do not believe that there won't."

And with that, she shot them her most disgusted, dirty look and stormed off.

Alphard let out a long bout of breath, turning to Harry, his face pale and distraught. "We certainly messed up."

"Do you think," began to whisper Harry, swallowing thickly, though he cut short as he caught sight of several people glaring at them all around the common room.

Harry quickly grabbed his friend by the wrist and pulled him out into the corridor, soon finding an empty classroom in the dungeons.

They both plopped down on chairs, downcast, as they stared at each other.

"Do you think the potion is affecting us more and more after each passing day?" Harry finally murmured, worriedly. "I think it is. I've been feeling-"

"Of course it is!" said Alphard frantically. "And it's turning very unpredictable, isn't it?" He moaned dejectedly. "I don't even want to know what will come next!"

Harry shot him an intense, pointed look. "What happened to you this morning? Or – er, last night?"

Alphard instantly snapped his mouth shut, looking nervous, sulky, and wary, before he said grudgingly, "I think I sleepwalked."

"I've never seen you sleepwalk before," said Harry slowly, piercing him with his eyes.

"I know!" groaned Alphard disparagingly, as he sunk his face in his hands, mumbling dispiritedly through his fingers, "I tell you, I'm going around the bend. I don't think I can stand it for much longer-"

"Al," said Harry softly, as he stood to his feet and approached the boy, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me. What do you remember? Do you think that you transformed?"

Alphard instantly snapped his head up, glowering at him, as he bit out, "What makes you say that?"

"Because there's no other way you could have gotten up that tree unless you'd turned into a…" Harry trailed off at the furious look his friend gave him, and sighed. "There's no shame in your Animagus form, Al. I don't know why you're so disappointed with it-"

"Who said anything about me being 'disappointed'?" snapped Alphard truculently, scowling. He snorted loudly, as he shot him a dark glare. "And how can I be, when I don't really know what it is to begin with?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn't press the matter. It was rather obvious what Alphard's Animagus form was, as they both knew perfectly well.

"Look," Harry tried again, his tone mollifying, "I'm just saying that perhaps you did transform last night because I think I did too."

"You did?" breathed out Alphard, looking momentarily gobsmacked, before his grey eyes went wide with excitement and curiosity. "Then you know what you are!"

Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't feel it happening. I was asleep. When I woke, I was myself."

He quickly explained the state of his bed and pajamas that morning, and Alphard stared at him, gaping and looking rather hysteric.

"Then it can happen again!" said Alphard in a high-pitch, all color draining from his face. "And maybe next time, it won't be when we're in our beds. It could happen during the day, in the middle of the Great Hall!"

Harry sighed with deep weariness, as he slumped back down on a chair. "Maybe it could. I don't know. But there's nothing we can do about it, is there?"

Alphard shot him a disconsolate look, as he whispered shakily, "We're so going to get expelled."

---

The new Pariahs of Slytherin House, that was what he and Alphard had become.

It made Harry recall his less than fond memories from when he had been an outcast during his first two years at Hogwarts, when they had all thought him to be a 'mudblood' who had cheated his way into Slytherin House.

He liked it even less now that he knew it was well deserved, given his disastrous performance against Ravenclaw.

Not a day went by when their housemates didn't nastily jeer at them or throw them very filthy looks, as they grumbled about the Quidditch Season's statistics and what their only chance at the Cup hinged on.

As both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had already played against Hufflepuff and won, it all depended on which of the two would win against the other, and for how much.

If Gryffindors trounced the Ravenclaws with a minimum lead of 150 points in the next match – a tall order, indeed- then Slytherin would still have a chance if they then defeated Gryffindor, by over 200 points.

It wasn't looking good, such scores were nearly impossible, but the Slytherins were giving it their best to manipulate the tricky situation to their benefit.

They had begun unleashing a fierce campaign of intimidation and hazing against the Ravenclaw Quidditch players, intended to crack their confidence to such degree as to render them useless in the Pitch.

Feeling a twang of guilt, Harry had to admit that it was working. So many Ravenclaw players had been hexed, jinxed, found unconscious in bathrooms, cruelly pranked, brought to tears by nasty, merciless insults, suddenly sprouted boils and tentacles, or fallen ill with mysterious diseases, that not a day went by when there wasn't at least one Ravenclaw player moaning in the Infirmary.

The Mediwitch Miss Nightingale and the rest of the Staff were livid, but of course, if there was one thing Slytherins excelled at, it was covering their tracks.

Not one was caught, not one shred of condemning evidence had been found, to in any way allow the professors to point their fingers at Slytherin House, though they surely knew who the culprits were without a doubt.

However, that wasn't stopping the Astronomy teacher and Head of Ravenclaw House, Perpetua Fancourt, from docking points like a madwoman, right, left and center, when a Slytherin in her class so much as breathed too loudly.

Of course, Tom saved the situation as the vaunted hero of the House, by redoubling his efforts in class to earn as many points as possible with his perfect answers and essays, so as to not damage their chances of winning the House Cup as well.

The only positive event, as far as Harry was concerned, was that he and Alphard had not yet sprouted scales, feathers, or fur in the middle of the Great Hall. In fact, neither of them had had any indication that they had unwittingly transformed during their sleep either.

The potion was still in effect, since they still had their dreams, but it seemed that Alphard had been right and it had now turned so unpredictable that it seemed to have entered a somewhat dormant period.

Though, it just made them feel more wary and frazzled, especially in Harry's case, who hadn't had a good night sleep in ages.

Tom was furious with him, for having performed so pathetically against Ravenclaw, still for having thwarted his plans for the 'resurrection' of Salazar Slytherin, for disappearing at odd times, and particularly –as Harry highly suspected- for still being better at him in the Imperius Curse.

Well, Harry had always known that his brother could hold unto grudges like none other, but it had become ridiculous.

He had begun camping in empty classrooms at nights, once more, not to mention always sidling into large packs of students during the day in between classes.

It seemed that Tom's vicious, vindictive streak had only increased with the passage of days as Harry's exhausted grumpiness did so as well.

Finally, he did what any sensible person would do: negotiate.

"If you want me to help you with the Imperius Curse," Harry snapped at his brother hotly, "no more trying to Crucio me when I've got my back turned in the Room of Requirements! Or hexing me in the hallways! There's only that many curses that I can dodge in time, you know?"

"Fine. I promise," spat Tom tartly.

Harry scoffed at that. "I'm no idiot." He glowered and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll take your Wizard's Oath or nothing at all."

Tom looked ready to do murder, but eventually, with much ill grace, virulent snipping, and seething glares, he had grudgingly acquiesced.

Harry breathed a little more easily after that, but not completely, he still kept an eye on his brother dearest. Especially since his brother was once more butting in his nose where it wasn't welcomed.

"Where do you keep disappearing to?" Tom demanded acidly, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

Harry arched an eyebrow at him, as he paused in his study of German –duty still foisted upon him by Tom, of course– and simply flipped him the bird in response.

His brother hadn't appreciated that display of 'disgustingly mugglish, low-class rudeness'.

The fact was that, when he wasn't carrying on with his many 'side projects' or revisions for their end of year examinations, he was spending some time with the half-Giant boy.

Both he and Alphard had struck a tentative friendship with Hagrid after the boy had helped them out, and they enjoyed themselves quite a lot.

Hagrid was affable and kind-hearted, a bit barmy at times with his interest in strange things –like when he had asked them to show him the Thestrals they had been studying in Care of Magical Creatures- but on the whole, he was fun and pleasant company.

Though Harry had the inkling that the half-Giant was keeping something from them.

Hagrid would sometimes get that strange, shifty look on his face, looking half wary, half mutinous, and he kept going about with a pocket of his robes filled with something big, as though he carried a Quaffle around, which –for some reason- he petted often through the fabric of his robes.

Harry and Alphard exchanged glances in those occasions, but never pressed the boy. Hagrid would tell them if he wanted to.

His budding friendship with Hagrid not withstanding, as much as it lightened his days, it didn't dispel the fact that his housemates were very angered with him for having let them down in Quidditch.

To make matters worse, Harry had the feeling he was being stalked once more.

It had to be Myrtle again, though apparently she had gotten much better at stealth, for Harry hadn't been able to catch her in the act, much to his extreme annoyance.

---

On an early Saturday morning, Harry was trudging through the Forbidden Forest rather placidly, glad to be away from the buoyancy of the castle for some time.

The other day, Gryffindor had thoroughly smashed Ravenclaw House in the Quidditch Pitch, and the Gryffs had been boisterously celebrating ever since.

Even though it meant that Slytherin House could win the Cup if they beat Gryffindor in the last match of the year, it didn't mean that his housemates were taking their eternal rivals' smug partying any better.

Furthermore, Harry had already been thoroughly harassed by his housemates, some even threatening him that he'd better play his utmost best against the Gryffs 'or else' – all reverence towards his condition as Parselmouth and Slytherin Heir momentarily forgotten.

Thus, he had decided to disappear for a while and pay Nagini a visit. Last time he had seen her, he had thought something wasn't quite right.

She had looked as knackered and frazzled as he had, very short-tempered, and prickly. Haughty, willful, little snake that she was, Nagini had refused to tell him what had been bothering her.

He was planning on hashing it out, this time.

When Harry stepped into the vast, scorched clearing that was her home, he frowned. His ears ringed with the numerous hisses coming from the large tangle of snakes that were frantically slithering all around the grounds, such a cacophony of voices that he couldn't quite catch what they were saying, except that they all sounded disgruntled.

What worried him the most, besides their peculiar behavior, was that Nagini was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Nagini?" Harry hissed in alarm, as he stepped into the middle of clutches of rowdy male snakes.

It was a serpent that Harry identified as an Ashwinder that answered him in a sullen, grumbling hiss, "Nagini has left us. We have been searching for her. We cannot find her." The snake swayed, as it groused in a sharp hiss, "She has duties to fulfill with us!"

Bemused, Harry blinked at that, but his worry was too great to bother with the snake's cryptic complaint.

Hurriedly striding to one edge of the clearing –though careful not to step on any of them- Harry settled his wand on an outstretched palm as he murmured quietly, "Point me Nagini!"

His wand instantly spun in his palm until it pointed to the furthest edge of the clearing. As surreptitiously as possible, Harry followed the direction, doing his best not to be noticed by the other snakes that had kept slithering about searchingly for her.

With some amazement, Harry rubbed his eyes when he caught sight of a faint glow burrowed under a thick tree root, the glow almost completely hidden.

Understanding slowly came to Harry as he crouched on the ground and peered into the hole beneath the root. At first, he saw nothing but the glow again, as though it formed a tangled curl.

In the next second, though, stressed yellow eyes were peering back at him, as Nagini suddenly appeared before his eyes where the glow had been a moment before. She looked thinner than usual and was tightly coiled around herself, looking scared.

However, Harry could only fixate on one thing, as he hissed in a marveled, exultant hiss, "You did magic!" He widely grinned at her. "I knew you could! I told Tom I had once seen you camouflage with my pillow in the orphanage." Harry shook his head, snorting. "He didn't believe me, the git – but this proves it, you're of some sort of magical species-"

"Be silent!" hissed Nagini frantically, who didn't seem to have listened to him. She had tensed, her flat yellow eyes staring past him.

Harry understood why a moment later, apalled.

"The Speaker has found her!"

With that hiss that sounded like a triumphant battle cry, the riotous mob of male snakes came hurling towards him, as Nagini reared herself in the air, to her fullest –not that impressive- height as she hissed furiously, "Go away – away! Leave me alone, you lesser creatures!"

Harry didn't need to think about it twice. Foolishly prideful creature that she was –trait that she shared with Tom, the idiots- she wouldn't be asking him for help any time soon, though it was evident it was much needed.

He instantly picked her up in his arms, as the other snakes swarmed by his boots, all hissing loudly at the same time, their voices incomprehensibly meshing together, until Harry suddenly caught one phrase.

"…must mate with us more!"

"I do not wish to mate again!" Nagini spat in a rattling, indignant hiss, as she coiled in Harry's arms, her head dangling low as she menacingly snapped her maw at the crowd below her. "Presumptuous, vile, unworthy creatures – begone from my territory!"

Harry's eyebrows climbed upwards, as it came apparent to him that Nagini's once idyllic affair with her harem of male snakes had taken a turn for the worse.

"You have yet to bear us hatchlings!"

Nagini reared and ominously hissed at that, as Harry gawked at the Ashwinder from before, that had spoken.

Without a second thought, as he cradled Nagini protectively against his chest, Harry snarled furiously as he aimed a hard kick at him.

The serpent went flying high into the air, nearly landing at the other end of the vast clearing.

Harry became alarmed, though, when all the others pounced on him like a mass of furious, wriggling, spitting, fanged hellions.

"Flee!" commanded Nagini in a frenzied hiss. "Take me away!"

Needing no further encouragement, Harry turned heel and ran for his life, shooting spells over his shoulder as he clutched Nagini with his free hand.

It was about fifteen minutes later that he finally realized he had managed to leave them all behind, some stunned or petrified, as he weaved through the forest like a madman, intent on vanishing from their sight.

Pausing to catch his breath, Harry slumped against a tree trunk, wheezing, as he glanced down at Nagini. "What on earth happened with them?"

"Pestered me - nagging, worthless creatures!" hissed Nagini in a outraged tone, as she then mimicked acidly, " 'Mate, mate, mate with us!' Tired me, they did, with their complaints and demands!" She haughtily lifted her small, flat head high in the air. "I did not bear hatchlings – because they are not worthy of siring my hatchlings! It is not my fault!"

Harry stared down at her, having picked up not only a resentful tone, but also one of bitter dejection.

"Um, maybe you cannot bear their hatchlings because you're too young," offered Harry pensively, as he soothingly caressed her.

"I am not too young!" spat Nagini bristling at once, fully stretching in a clear attempt to impress him with her girth and length.

She didn't succeed, though. She looked outright emaciated and exhausted, and still as small as always. It was clear that there had been much 'mating' going around for some time, and they had left poor Nagini absolutely knackered.

"Or," continued Harry in a mollifying tone, "because they're not of your same species."

That caught Nagini interest, who pulled her head up until she pierced him with her yellow eyes, and hissed demandingly, "What is my species?"

"No idea." Harry shot her an assuaging smile. "But now that we know you can definitely do magic, I can look into it."

"I can do magic?" Nagini sounded confused for a moment, before she regally tossed her head to a side. "Of course I am magical – and very powerful too!"

Harry eyed her with amusement, before his expression turned grave as he frowned. "What am I supposed to do with you now?"

"Protect, cherish, and worship me," hissed Nagini imperiously, shooting him a jaundiced look, "as is your duty! And find me a new nest," she added, as an afterthought.

"Yeah, I reckon you need a new place to live," muttered Harry, as he glanced around their surroundings. "But I don't know if the forest is safe for you anymore - not with that lot after you."

Nagini briskly flung out her tail. "I do not wish to remain in this foul place any longer!"

Harry sighed. "I suppose I could take you to the castle…"

"To your dwelling?" Nagini perked up, before she added haughtily, "I would consent to it, if you vouch to give me the softest, warmest place in your nest-"

"I cannot take you to my dormitory," hissed Harry softly, shaking his head. "It'd be too risky. Snakes aren't allowed as pets at Hogwarts. You have to remain somewhere hidden…"

He trailed off as an idea struck him. Perhaps not the best, but they would have to make it work.

"Nagini," he hissed in a cajoling tone, as he scratched the soft scales of her underbelly, making her let out a purr-like hiss of pleasure, "remember that slumbering creature you once found?"

Nagini's contented hiss halted abruptly, as she tensed, fixedly staring up at him. "No. Not with It. It… scares me."

Harry eyed her with sympathy, knowing how much it must have cost her to admit that much.

Nevertheless, he petted her again as he hissed coaxingly, "It is a Basilisk. His name is Zar. But I promise that he won't hurt you. I'll tell him not to." He shot her a wide smile. "And he'll adore you, Nagini, like the rest of us do. You'll see."

Nagini didn't look too certain about that, but after some more flattery and caresses on her key spots, she yielded with a sleepy, exhausted hiss of acceptance.

"Now, remember all the rules for Hogwarts of before," rattled off Harry as he helped Nagini slither under his sleeve to coil around an arm. "You cannot be seen by other humans. You cannot speak when there are others around. And do not go exploring on your own or you'll be caught."

"Yes, Master," hissed Nagini drowsily, as she affectionately nuzzled the slits of her nose against his skin, flicking out a caressing tongue.

Harry could only see the tip of her small forked tongue poking out from under his sleeve, and he sniggered. "Don't let Tom hear you call me that. He won't be pleased that you've replaced him with me."

"Tom is not worthy of being my Master," hissed Nagini grumpily. "He didn't visit me. He didn't take care of me. You did."

Harry petted her fondly through the fabric of his sleeve, and recommenced his trek through the forest.

It was not long after, when he felt the unmistakable feeling of a pair of eyes on him, watchful.

They were nearly reaching the edge of the forest that gave way to Hogwarts' grounds, and with wand in hand, Harry swirled around angrily. "Who's there?"

He blinked when he caught sight of a pair of big, sky blue eyes peering at him from inside a bush, bright with interest and curiosity.

"Come out!" Harry snapped, gripping his wand tighter, aiming in the bush's direction.

There was a nervous scattering, before the unmistakable sounds of small hooves cantering on the ground echoed, as a very small, palomino centaur came towards him, and halted, peering up at him once more.

"I know you," said Harry slowly as he stared at him, raking his brain to remember the name. "Er – Fiery? Or something like that?"

"I am called Firenze," piped in the small centaur in a high-pitched voice.

"Right," muttered Harry, bemused when the little creature merely kept gazing at him, looking excited but also nervous, anxiously glancing around as though knowing he was misbehaving and feared getting caught.

"And you are The Fate's Companion," chirped the little centaur in a whisper, his sky blue eyes wide as he gazed at him. "We met when you were carrying the Founder's daughter in you."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I remember." He tilted his head to a side. "Do you need anything?"

Firenze shook his mane of long, pale blonde hair, before he shot him a jittery look and squeaked urgently, "You are being followed. Take care."

And with that, the little centaur cantered away in a dash, disappearing into the forest.

Harry tensed and became on guard as he spun around, wand once more aimed in all directions.

Surely the centaur hadn't meant that Myrtle had followed him into the forest? She was too scared of her own shadow to ever come there.

But, if she had…

Harry furiously gritted his teeth. The Ravenclaw girl was just asking for trouble!

"Come out, Myrtle!" he yelled with vast irritation, doing his best to not show his anger. "I know you're there. This is a very dangerous place – you should not be alone!"

Nothing moved in the surrounding trees and shrubs, as though everything had gone suddenly still, except for the pleasant breeze that fluttered around.

The utter strange silence was abruptly broken by the sounds of thundering, reverberating footfalls and a pleading shout, "No, Aggy! Com' back her'!"

Harry had no idea what was the thing scuffling towards him at top speed - for a moment he thought it was some sort of furry ball. Though he recognized the hulking figure that came galumphing after it, giving desperate chase.

Later, he would damn his fast reflexes that had apparently been honed by Quidditch and Dorea Black to the point of automatically grasping anything resembling a moving ball.

Without a thought, Harry had swiped the skittering thing from the ground just as it attempted to dodge past him.

Harry took a look down.

Six pairs of small, dull black eyes stared back at him, from a many-legged, horrendous hairy thing, with menacingly clicking pincers.

A high-pitched shriek came out of Harry's mouth –which he would later refuse to admit to himself– as he flung his hands up in the air in utter horror, the thing being catapulted into the sky.

"No!" moaned Hagrid distressed. "Aggy!"

To Harry's utter astonishment, Hagrid managed to catch the thing as it came down, instantly cradling it in his massive arms with much tender protectiveness.

"Aggy," croaked Hagrid, with watery eyes. "Ye bad boy, ye! Runnin' away from me, when ye know…"

Apparently, the half-Giant was too overwhelmed with relief and lingering anxiousness to be able to continue, sniffling, as he then eyed Harry.

"Thank ye," choked out Hagrid. "Dunno know wot I would've done if Aragog'd escaped!"

"Aragog?" echoed Harry faintly, still staring at the creature with wide green eyes filled with horror. "You mean to tell me that - you know it?"

" 'Course I do," said Hagrid, as he gazed down at the creature with misty, adoring eyes. He glanced at Harry, as he then declared proudly, "He's mine. He ha'ched in the castle. I've been feedin' 'im."

"But," spluttered Harry incredulously, taking a terrified step back. "Hagrid! I think that's an Acromantula!"

Of course that he had never seen one before, but as with every highly dangerous creature, their Care of Magical Creatures teacher had taught them about them, and showed them pictures and the sort. Since, certainly, not even Professor Kettleburn was insane enough to actually show them a living, breathing Acromantula!

"Aye, I know," purred Hagrid in a sickeningly, loving tone. "Me dad bought me an egg from a traveler when we were stayin' in Hogsmeade fer me eleventh birthday. I'd never been to Hogsmeade befor'." He beamed at Harry. "I brought the egg wit' me when I started Ho'warts. And the lil' thing just ha'ched in a few days!" Hagrid went dewy-eyed as he gazed down at the creature in his arms once more. "Ain't he go'geous!"

"Gorgeous?" mumbled Harry feebly in a hitched voice, staring at the boy in stunned, disbelieving stupefaction.

Only when he felt Nagini stirring from her sleep –no doubt due to all the noise and yells - was Harry yanked out of his tongue-tied incredulity.

He hastened to pull down his sleeve when Nagini threatened to poke her head out in curiosity, giving her a reproachful jab with a thumb, and then rounded on the half-Giant who had clearly lost all his marbles.

"If that thing is an Acromantula, you must kill it immediately. They're very dangerous, Hagrid – they eat people!"

"Kill?" repeated Hagrid, looking utterly confused as he stared back at a frantic Harry. "Kill Aggy, ye mean? Are ye mad?" He blinked, bemusedly, at him. "Aggy's a good boy-"

"Acromantulas are extremely dangerous!" bellowed Harry frenziedly.

"Nah, they ain't," said Hagrid with a dismissive chuckle. "They're just misunde'stood, ain't they?"

Harry goggled, at that.

Though Hagrid didn't seem to notice, as he carried on, shooting him a blazing look, "I'll show ye!" He patted the Acromantula on its hairy back, as he prompted softly, "Aggy, this is 'Arry, me friend. Greet 'im like I've taught ye."

"Hullo Harry friend of Hagrid," came a rather alarming, deep, grave voice from the Quaffled-sized, lethally poisonous spider, it's tone dull and disinterested.

Harry took a step backward automatically, shuddering as he gripped his wand more tightly, choking out, "Hagrid, I really think you should best-"

"He gets these silly ideas, that's wot the matte' is," grumbled Hagrid as though talking to himself, shaking his wiry tangle of hair as he shot his 'pet' a reprimanding look. "Keeps tryin' to escape from the castle. Keeps tellin' me that sumthin' scares 'im but he doesn't know wot!"

Harry blanched, as he suddenly remembered all the things he had read about Basilisks. Like the fact that spiders were terrified of them, and instinctively fled from their vicinity.

"If he doesn't like Hogwarts," said Harry in a strangled, thin thread of a voice, "then why don't you let him live here in the forest? As he clearly wants to?"

"Are ye mad?" Hagrid gave him a scandalized look. "Aggy's jus' a baby! There're many dange'ous things in the forest – centaurs, even, I've hear'." He shot him a wild, panicked stare. "Wot if they trample all over 'im wit' their hooves? Wot if sum' other creature eats 'im!"

Harry rather thought that it would be the centaurs who would be in danger and not the other way around, especially when 'Aggy' got older.

"I can't leave 'im her'," said Hagrid resolutely, shaking his head. "I'm takin' 'im back to the castle. Ye could come wit' me," he then added, gazing at Harry hopefully. "I could use sum' help to feed 'im…"

The boy trailed off, shooting him a watery, pleading look.

"Er - look," stuttered Harry, alarmed, "I don't think that would be a good idea-"

"Now that ye know about 'im," said Hagrid, sniffling and peering down at him dolefully, "I'd like to count wit' yer help – fer when he tries to escape, ye see? An' to bring 'im food from the Great Hall an' all."

Harry bit his lip. He definitely didn't want to become involved in this madness. But then, he did owe the half-Giant a favor for helping him with Alphard when the boy had disappeared. And Hagrid was looking so miserable that Harry found his determination faltering.

"Oh fine," muttered Harry waspishly. "I'll help you, as much as I can."

Hagrid's broad face glowed as he beamed at him. "Ye won't regret it, 'Arry, I promis'. Look, he already likes ye!"

Harry bit back a very nasty retort at that, given that the Acromantula was balefully eyeing him in a decidedly foul-mood as they both began heading towards Hogwarts' grounds.

Hagrid happily chattered away about every bit of 'amazin' feat Aggy had ever accomplished.

Thankfully, Hagrid wasn't so much off his rocker as to not realize that he had to hide Aragog once they began approaching the castle. The Acromantula didn't go quietly, but the half-Giant finally managed to stuff him inside his overlarge pocket once more.

"The p'oblem is," Hagrid was telling him in a hushed voice as Harry followed him up a moving staircase, "that I can only nick the scraps left on me House table afte' meals. But Aggy doesn' like any of the food I give 'im."

'Of course he doesn't!' Harry had half a mind to shout. 'He'd much rather have a student for snack!'

Nevertheless, he didn't have the heart to do it, not when Hagrid was looking so fretfully worried.

"There's a solution for that," Harry said with a deep sigh, and proceeded to tell him about how to get into the kitchens by tickling the pear in the painting of a bowl of fruits.

Hagrid stared at him in worshipful gratitude, as he said thickly, "Thank ye! I'll do that!" His expression then turned to one of mild interest. "I've neve' seen a house-elf befor'. What're they like?"

"They're very nice," said Harry with a wide, warm smile. "They can give you anything you ask for – of food, that is."

"Oh," mumbled Hagrid, his bright curiosity instantly vanishing at the word 'nice', apparently.

Harry rolled his eyes, a mite exasperatedly, just when Hagrid made them halt before a cupboard in a corridor.

It took him a moment to realize that they were on the second floor. In fact, not very far away from Myrtle's bathroom.

Not liking Hagrid's chosen location at all, Harry couldn't do much about it without raising suspicions. Especially when the boy proudly showed him what the cupboard held inside.

It seemed that Hagrid had crafted some type of large, squared wooden box. Big enough for Aragog at the moment, but Harry did wonder what the half-Giant was planning to do when the Acromantula got as large as an elephant, as they supposedly did when reaching maturity at the young age of five-years old.

"Good." Hagrid clapped his massive hands together once they had left a sullen Aragog inside his box, closing the cupboard. The boy seemed to hesitate, before he added softly, "Ye won't tell anyone abou' it, will ye?"

"Of course not," said Harry tiredly, before he shot him a very pointed, stern look. "If anyone finds out, it would get you in loads of trouble."

"I know," Hagrid grumbled gloomily, before he cast him a glance vying for understanding. "But I must keep 'im wit' me. He's so lil' and youn'."

Wearily, Harry refrained from voicing his opinion once more. He would work on making Hagrid see reason some other day. He had no doubt that at some point the half-Giant would simply have to face the facts, at least when the Acromantula got even bigger.

"Who's that?" abruptly said Hagrid, sharply.

Harry flung around, only in time to see a flick of platinum blonde hair vanishing around the corner.

His eyes green widening with sudden understanding, Harry roared furiously, "Malfoy!"

Without another hitch of breath, so enraged that he was seeing red, Harry pelted after the boy.

It hadn't been Myrtle following him around lately, but Abraxas!

A jolted Nagini stirred and hissed in annoyance under his sleeve, but Harry paid her no mind as he ran down a moving staircase, took a turn, and saw Malfoy's figure speeding down a corridor.

"You prat!" bellowed Harry infuriated, as he leaped around a corner. "You've been stalking me – again? What did I tell you last time!"

Unsurprisingly, Malfoy didn't halt one bit at his yells, and Harry redoubled his efforts as he jumped three steps at a time down another stairway.

Soon, they were in the labyrinthine, narrow corridors of the dungeons, this fact making Harry feel an ominous twist in the pit of his stomach.

He spat the password and entered their common room moments after Malfoy, skidding to a halt.

Some Slytherins shot him looks of curiosity at his manner of entrance, but Harry saw nothing but Abraxas standing at the other end of the room, leaning down to whisper in Tom's ear.

Tom, who was seated in one of the best couches in the room right in front a merrily crackling fire, and who had apparently been revising for Arithmancy, given the tome in his hands.

However, Tom was not reading his book any longer, but intently listening to whatever Malfoy was murmuring.

Utterly incensed, Harry stalked towards them, his hands balling into shaking fists.

As he reached them, he caught the last thread of a whisper.

"…with an Acromantula, Marvolo."

Harry instantly stiffened, before he shot his brother an acrid jeer. " 'Marvolo' already, brother?"

Clearly his brother had forgotten to mention that little fact to him. Obviously, Tom had at some point made those 'closest' to him adopt his new name. Harry had no doubt that if Abraxas Malfoy was calling him by that, Orion Black, Neron Lestrange and Thaddeus Avery of their year must also be in the know. And who knew who else from the upper years.

Tom didn't smugly smirk at him as he would have done any other time. Instead, his dark blue eyes flashed dangerously as they narrowed at him.

Harry bristled, as he spat furiously, "So Malfoy has been following me around, spying on me, under your orders?" He fulminated Abraxas with a sneering, contemptuous look. "How the mighty have fallen, eh, Malfoy? You're my brother's lap dog now, I see."

Abraxas stiffened as he pulled himself up to his full height, shooting him a very nasty, chilly look.

"Malfoy has been telling me," drawled Tom with deceitful placidity, which was belied by the fierce burn in Harry's scar, "many interesting things, little brother."

"Can I bite them both, Master?" hissed Nagini gleefully, suddenly poking her head out of Harry's sleeve, opening her maw to reveal her small yet very sharp fangs. "I can feel your anger. I would be pleased to strike at those who annoy you. And the pale one smells delicious."

Abraxas, though certainly not understanding her, couldn't mistake the menacing tone of her hisses, and was quick to take a step back, his widening silvery eyes darting from snake to Harry and back.

Tom, however, went utterly still, his eyes fixed on Nagini, before they blazed with rage as he pinned Harry with his gaze, and hissed, "What do you think you're doing, you twit! You cannot bring her into the school-"

"A snake goes where it pleases," hissed Nagini with a disdainful arrogance she had certainly learned from Tom long ago, as she swayed and undulated before the boys, displaying her magnificence. "A snake choses its Master, and obeys those Speakers who prove themselves worthy."

"You obey ME," hissed Tom sharply, narrowing his eyes at her. "As you have always done, Nagi-"

"You have ignored me. Ignored my needs," she hissed tempestuously, flicking her tail at him as though to banish him from her sight. "I have chosen a better, worthier Master, this time."

Not that Harry hadn't enjoyed Malfoy's reaction at the sight of Nagini, but now it was only causing undue trouble.

Many of their housemates had gathered around, to look at her and listen to their hisses with fascinated, greedy looks in their eyes. Which was only making Tom seethe all the more, given the piercing pain in Harry's scar.

Undoubtedly, because it was Harry the focus of attention this time. Harry openly displaying his ties with their housemates' revered Salazar Slytherin.

Tom rose to his feet, slowly, coolly, as though utterly unflappable, as he hissed in a calm tone for their audience to pick up on but not understand the furious words, "You dare steal her from me?"

"Don't be a prat," snapped Harry irritably. "She'll always be yours first, we both know that-"

"I won't!" spat Nagini in a rebellious hiss, punishingly slapping both their arms with her tail –or better said, as much as she could reach with it, as she dangled precariously from Harry's arm in an attempt to make herself longer.

In her tiff with Tom, she could say whatever she liked, but the three of them knew perfectly well that Nagini had always been Tom's.

Tom had been the one to find her in the backyard of the orphanage when she had been a mere hatchling, had been the one to teach her more words, to teach her as much as she could learn at the time.

Harry had only found out about her existence several years later, when his brother had deigned to share the secret with him –of her, and the fact that they could somehow understand and speak to snakes.

Thus, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that no matter Nagini's anger at Tom for having been so inconsiderately cast aside by him, Tom would always be her favorite –no matter how much of a git he was.

Suddenly, a clearly stupid, bold sixth year girl attempted to touch Nagini –apparently to pet her or see if she was really- and the snake, obviously nettled beyond endurance, pounced.

Like a spitting Fury, Nagini flung herself at the girl, jaws wide open ready to strike-

"Enough!" hissed Tom angrily, catching Nagini in mid air by the head, bending it mercilessly to a side in a constricting grip.

"Don't hurt her!" Harry cried out apalled, as Nagini twisted madly in his brother's vise-like and clearly painful grasp.

As Nagini made a furious, retaliatory attempt to dig her fangs into Tom's fingers, his brother hurled her back at Harry, so harshly that Harry had to stagger to catch her as gently as he could.

Nevertheless, Nagini's display of untamed fierceness seemed to excite their housemates all the more, and that appeared to push the limits of Tom's restraint.

"You and I, it seems," hissed Tom thunderously, "have much to discuss – in private."

And with that, Harry was brusquely yanked out of the common room, Tom dragging him down to their dormitory in a relentless, punishing grip, as Nagini spit, hissed, and writhed in his arms.