Absentmindedly, Harry took the bottle from Hermione, raised it, said, "Cheers," and gulped it down.
Hermione also raised her bottle and tilted it back. The next thing either of the teens knew, pain was ripping through their body; it is not an easy process to change almost every aspect of your physical being-the change in skeletal structure alone would be enough to put anyone in tears. Unfortunately for the teens, it wasn't just skeletal reconfiguration, and they were both in so much pain there was no sound, and their eyes were tightly closed.
A few moments later, they were human again. "At least we know we have forms," Hermione groaned weakly from her prone position. Harry just grunted in response. "I wonder what they are, though," she mused thoughtfully. Harry was just amazed she could be in this much pain and still think; he had no idea that he had instinctively taken as much of her pain as he could onto himself.
Hermione snapped from her reverie when she finally felt Harry's pain being broadcast through their bond. Gasping as she realized what he had done, she exclaimed, "Harry! Why would you do that?"
She felt a sudden wave of confusion and worry at her question as he asked nervously, "Do what?"
"Why would you take my pain?" She asked impatiently.
She felt him start across the link before he settled into an odd feeling of pleasure. "Well, I didn't do it on purpose," Harry replied, "I didn't even know I could." Hermione relaxed a little, and Harry continued, "If I had known, I would have taken more."
Hermione shook her head and tried to take the pain back, only to find that Harry's was diminishing at a great rate and taking hers, too. Harry felt her concern as she asked, "Harry, what are you doing?"
Hermione felt his mischievousness as he replied, "If I took your pain, I can send it. With our connection, Voldemort's probably not feeling too good right now," he smirked, getting off the ground; Hermione laid there for a minute, shocked-and pleased-by her boyfriend's novel idea. Harry helped her up, but they were quickly back on the ground as Hermione tackled him and gave him a searing kiss-he had not only gotten rid of their pain, but hurt Voldemort at the same time.
After a few enjoyable moments, Hermione broke the kiss, gasping. After another few moments where the two caught their breath, Hermione wondered aloud, "I wonder how we discover our forms. I know we only have to take the potion for the first time, but how do we change when we don't know what we are."
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. What did the book say?"
Hermione blushed a little. "I don't know, I haven't read past the potion and the forced transformation," she admitted.
Harry gave a gasp of mock surprise. "Hermione Granger didn't read everything she possibly could?" He teased, receiving a playful smack on the arm for his jibe. Rather than complain, though, he just grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the entrance.
However, they quickly realized they had a problem when they reached the tube-how were they supposed to go up? Hermione groaned, and Harry felt a wave of realization flow over him as she said, "Why didn't I realize it before? Flight of Death would never slide down a smelly, dirty, tube!" She exclaimed.
"Er…Flight of Death?" Harry asked, confused.
Hermione, feeling his confusion, responded, "Voldemort. If you break it up, Vol is flight, de is of or from, and Mort is death." She paused for a moment, before saying, "I suppose it could be Flight from Death, as your memory of his memory showed an utter terror when you stabbed the diary."
Harry just shrugged again, asking, "Okay, but how do we get up?"
Hermione snapped back to focus (although she flushed a little), and shared her revelation. "It occurred to me that Riddle thought too highly of himself to slide down a disgusting tube, plus he would have to get back up. The best explanation would be stairs! Try saying stairs in Parseltongue, Harry!" She encouraged excitedly.
Unable to find a flaw in her logic, he turned to do as she said. Stairs, he hissed at the tube. He felt another wave of realization flow across the bond, but he almost fainted when he realized it was accompanied by arousal! Turning to give his girlfriend-wife, he mentally corrected-a puzzled look, he ended up with his jaw on the floor.
Hermione-hearing him hiss-realized just how talented his tongue was, and really wanted to put it to use that was less than academic. She was licking her lips as Harry turned to face her, and really effect she had on him. Before he could say anything, she pounced on him, giving him a searing kiss; neither noticed that Harry's Parseltongue had formed stairs.
Harry was in the middle of a wonderful kiss with Hermione when he suddenly felt her lips part, and something push at his. Startled, he allowed her tongue entrance, thinking,What the bloody hell is going on? This is great, but it doesn't seem like Hermione. His brain, however, was not in complete control, and he didn't pull apart until the two of them heard a sound that Harry remembered all too well from second year; the sound of a slithering snake.
Hermione seemed aware of it, too, as fear replaced her other emotions. "H-Harry," she stuttered, "w-what g-gender was the b-basilisk?"
Harry-all too used to these situations-replied calmly, "I have no idea." Concentrating, he hissed, Who is there? He noticed that Hermione's arousal returned, and shook his head, wondering just what was going on.
He pushed the thought out of his head as he heard a reply. Who speaks? A hissing voice demanded.
Slightly amused, he replied, I asked you first, exactly the way a child would.
I am Serpenta, the last Queen of Serpents, the voice replied. Harry thought he caught a hint of fear, and some feminineness as well. Now answer me, the voice demanded with false bravado.
Seeing no reason not to, Harry replied, My name is Harry Potter. How old are you? He asked gently; he was pretty sure it was young, since an older one would have come out of the darkness due to its immense size.
The gentleness of the question seemed to throw the serpent off balance, and it replied, My mother said I was seven before she died, so I guess I'm ten.
Harry winced in guilt; the basilisk may have been trying to kill him, but he knew what it was like to lose parents at a young age. Hermione, of course, wouldn't allow this, and pushed her feelings of love at him. Feeling a little better, he sent back a wave of gratitude.
Harry, don't worry about her eyes killing you, Hermione said through the bond; she had been listening in through Harry. They become lethal at the age of 25, so you're safe.
Harry shot her a look of disbelief. And how exactly would they test that, Hermione? He asked his wife, who blushed and didn't reply. Turning back to the darkness where he believed Serpenta was, he hissed, Serpenta, if you close your eyes and come out, we promise not to hurt you.
Why do I have to close my eyes? Serpenta asked.
Your eyesight can kill with a glance, Harry replied, not entirely sure he should be telling her. However, she sounded like a frightened child and he couldn't help but empathize. And I want to be your friend, Harry added, ignoring Hermione's start. It would be difficult if I was dead.
There was pause, and when Serpenta replied, she sounded a little shocked. You want to be my friend?
Harry's heart broke for the longing he heard; he knew many people considered basilisks to be Dark, but none of them had heard the longing in this one's voice for a friend. Yes, he replied. I never used to have any friends, and I always enjoy making a new one.
I'll be your friend, Serpenta hissed happily. And I'll keep my eyes closed, too, she added determinedly.
Harry and Hermione heard the slithering sound again at the end of her declaration, and soon saw a head Harry immediately recognized as belonging to a basilisk, but much smaller. As Serpent fully came out of the darkness, they realized she was very small-only five feet long. Harry supposed they simply never stopped growing. Thankfully, Serpenta had kept her eyes closed.
Harry-seeing the small size of the snake-instinctively got down on his knees and put out his hand; it looked like he wanted to pet the snake. Instead, Hermione felt a building of his magic, and a small, grey beam shot from his hand to the baby basilisk. A few moments later, it was over, and both participants sank to the ground.
"Harry!" Hermione screamed aloud and through the bond, trying to lift him back up. To her surprise, Harry lifted himself back up, shaking himself and looking tired, but he was doing okay. "What did you do?" She asked him.
Harry smiled and put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. There was another beam of light between the two of them (green this time), and Harry again felt weak for a moment. Regaining his strength, he replied, "I took a look at the power of the basilisks eyes, took your knowledge of arithmancy, and made us immune."
Hermione just gaped at him. After about five seconds where she just kept running 'made us immune' through her head, she managed to ask, "How?"
Harry smirked and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips before replying, "We practiced wandless magic by visualizing what we wanted it to do; so I got it to give me what I needed." He started to turn away, but turned back and said, "And you were wrong, the Basilisk's eyes harm everything except another basilisk, and they're deadly right away." Turning away from Hermione's shocked expression and back to Serpenta, he hissed gently, You can open your eyes now.
Are you sure? Serpenta asked hesitantly. I don't want to hurt my new friend, she said pleadingly.
Harry chuckled softly, responding, Yes, I'm sure. He watched as Serpenta carefully opened her eyes before starting introductions. Serpenta, this is Hermione. She is my wife, and can understand what we're saying, but she can't speak. She wants to be your friend, too.
Serpenta turned to Hermione with wide eyes, making Harry glad he had performed those spells. Really? Serpenta hissed to Hermione. You want to be my friend? Hermione, listening through Harry but unable to respond, nodded. Serpenta wriggled herself around, making the two teens laugh at the serpentine version of a happy dance.
While settling down, Harry had a thought; if he could find the magic of the basillisk's stare, could he find the magic of parseltongue and give it to Hermione? Focusing on himself, he was enveloped in a grey cloud, but he was not pleased with what he found.
"What?" He growled out in rage.
Hermione jumped, startled by the pure anger in his voice. "Harry?" She asked hesitantly. "What is it?"
Harry didn't even hear her. He was busy contemplating what this meant. His scar appeared to be a piece of Voldemort, and that's where he got his original parseltongue ability from. Now it was part of him, but that wasn't what bothered him; if he had a piece of Voldemort in him, was he the reason that Voldemort didn't die? Did he keep him anchored to earth?
Then he remembered the diary-how it said it was draining the life force from Ginny to gain form. Was his scar the same thing? If it was, why hadn't it done that to him? Was this the connection he had with Voldemort? If it was, would he-like the diary-have to be destroyed?
Hermione wasn't liking this; Harry had blocked off their connection, but she could see from his expression that he was angry, sad, and feeling alone, just like he had been at the beginning of the summer. "Harry!" She yelled at him, very worried.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he shook himself, but it was short lived; he extricated himself from her muttering, "I have to go." He barely noticed that the stairs had formed, he only paused long enough to give Hermione parseltongue; just because he was now alone again didn't mean Serpenta had to be. After a whispered, "You can speak parseltongue, now," to Hermione, he hurried up the stairs.
Hermione sat there for a moment, stunned, hurt and trying not to cry. She shook her head to clear it, hissed, We'll see you later, to Serpenta, and raced after the man she loved. Fortunately, the stairs still had all the slime that the slide had, and Harry hadn't bothered to scourgify himself, making a clear trail of slime for Hermione to follow.
She soon realized he was heading towards the Headmaster's office and picked up the pace, no longer needing to follow the trail. She caught up to him and watched him blast aside the gargoyle that wouldn't open without the password. "Harry!" She screamed. She watched him hesitate for a minute, but he continued up the stairs anyway. Giving a small scream of frustration, she chased after him. When she saw the gargoyle start to reform itself, she didn't even hesitate to blast it aside so she could continue her chase.
When she got to the top of the stairs, she realized she was a bit late; Harry was already screaming at Dumbledore as everything in his office was flying around. Even Fawkes looked scared.
"-didn't you tell me?" Harry was screaming. "What else have you kept from me?"
"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione shouted over all the noise he was making. At the sound of her voice, Harry's muscles tensed and everything in the room froze, much like the Cornish Pixies from second year.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, answering, "He's talking about his scar, and the diary. He's talking about his connection to Voldemort. He's talking about Horcruxes. He's talking about the fact that he must die before Voldemort can."
Hermione was shocked for a moment. "What is a Horcrux, and why does it mean Harry must die?" She asked icily.
Dumbledore sighed, looking every bit of his 150-odd years. "A Horcrux is a piece of someone's soul, separated to keep that person anchored to earth. Harry's scar is one of Voldemort's."
"And why can't we just remove it?" Hermione asked impatiently.
Dumbledore shrugged helplessly. "I don't know any spells to do that."
Hermione snorted. "Do you know any spells to make someone immune to a basilisk's gaze?" Dumbledore frowned, shaking his head. "Well Harry did that, so what makes you think he can't move a Horcrux? And why hasn't that Horcrux tried to take him over?"
"He did that?" Dumbledore asked, clearly startled. Hermione nodded, still looking very angry. "Then I suppose it is possible," Dumbledore conceded. "After all, moving a Horcrux from one object to another shouldn't be too different from moving it from the entire soul to the original object." He frowned thoughtfully. "Harry, do you mind if I examine your scar?"
Harry nodded cautiously, but his hold on the link was weakening, and Hermione could now tell that he was afraid to hope. Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry's scar, and Hermione carefully watched as his expression went from shock, to disbelief, to glee. "I have some very good news for you, Harry," Dumbledore said. "What you sensed was not a Horcrux, but the residual energy of one."
Everything in Dumbledore's office came crashing down. "What?" Harry whispered. "How?"
"Well, I don't know exactly," Dumbledore said. Upon seeing Hermione's venomous look, he quickly continued, "But I would theorize that Voldemort accidentally removed it when he tried to possess you. It's possible that the Horcrux reconnected with him before you threw him out."
"How many Horcruxes does Voldemort have?" Hermione asked, clearly not feeling better.
"I don't know," Dumbledore admitted. Seeing that Hermione was about to explode again (Man that girl is scary, Dumbledore thought), he continued, "Slughorn knows, but he won't tell me." He paused, clearly hesitant. "Ms. Granger-"
"It's Mrs. Potter," she interrupted angrily.
Dumbledore gulped. How can a fifteen-year-old witch be so scary? He asked himself. "Mrs. Potter," he continued, "I understand you recently gained a vial of Felix Felicis for an excellently brewed Draught of Death. Perhaps you could use that to try and gain the memory from Slughorn."
Hermione snorted. "Why would we use that for something as simple as a memory when we could use it to kill Voldemort?" She asked.
Dumbledore looked startled. "I never considered using it for something like that," he admitted sheepishly. He looked thoughtful for a minute, but then laughed heartily. "Luck!" He exclaimed. "Luck is the power he knows not!"
"So how do we get the memory from Slughorn?" Hermione angrily interrupted his laughter.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, replying, "Alas, I do not know. I only know that he won't tell me, however, he might tell you, Harry."
"Me?" Harry asked, clearly startled. Hermione had the distinct impression that he was still trying to adjust to the idea that he did not have to die.
"Yes, you, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You see, much like Voldemort, Slughorn is a collector. But where Voldemort collects items, Slughorn collects people. You, The-Boy-Who-Lived, who has battled Voldemort 5 times, would be his crowning jewel. I know you don't like the attention, but we must know this information," Dumbledore said, sounding almost pleading.
Harry nodded unhappily, and-trying to change the subject-asked, "What happened to your hand, sir?"
Hermione looked in shock at his hands and noticed for the first time that the right one looked blackened and burnt. Dumbledore sighed, responding, "I injured it in the hunt for another Horcrux. Although it was not exactly desired, I consider it a fair trade for the destruction of that Horcrux."
"So that's three out of however many Voldemort tried to make," Hermione said thoughtfully, though she was still looking angry.
Dumbledore sighed yet again, saying, "Alas, I fear it is not so. I believe that the one from Harry's scar was an accident, so those were only two of his intended Horcruxes. The good news is, I believe I know another three and-"
"Three?" Hermione exclaimed. "How long have you suspected these Horcruxes existed?"
Dumbledore squirmed uncomfortably. "Umm…a few years or so…."
"A FEW YEARS?" Hermione screeched. "YOU KNEW THE PROPHECY MEANT ONLY HARRY COULD DEFEAT HIM, AND YOU KNEW ABOUT THESE HORCRUXES, BUT YOU DIDN'T TELL HIM? WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?" She demanded.
"I-I thought he should enjoy his childhood," Dumbledore said.
"ENJOY HIS CHILDHOOD?" Hermione screamed. "DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIS CHILDHOOD? HE HATED IT!"
Dumbledore wisely decided not to answer this time, and Harry moved to calm her down. "DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN!" She slapped him, and a look of shock and betrayal came over his face. Hermione's eyes widened when she realized what she'd done. "Harry, I'm sorry, but you should have talked to me," she said.
Harry's conscience reasserted itself; she was right, he should have talked to her. "I'm sorry, too. I should have talked to you. But I thought I had to die. How was I supposed to handle knowing I had to die rather than be with you?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat, reminding both teens of his presence. They blushed and looked down, but they both seemed to be smiling. "You may go Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he told them with twinkling eyes and a smile; he would ask them about the basilisk situation later.
"Thank you, sir," they said in unison, before grabbing each other's hand and leaving the room.
"Should we bring Serpenta to our room?" Harry whispered in Hermione's ear as they headed down the stairs.
Hermione thought about for a moment, and then shook her head. "No, we can't feed her, and there's Hedwig and Crookshanks to consider."
Harry frowned. "Good point. I hadn't thought about them," he admitted. "We'll have to visit her tomorrow, though, and read the rest of that book."
Hermione nodded as they reached their room. As they got into bed, she whispered to him, "I'm glad you don't have to die."
Harry gave a quiet laugh, replying, "I'm glad our fight was so short." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. Pulling back, he whispered, "Goodnight, 'Mione."
She snuggled into his chest and whispered back, "Goodnight, my knight." She fell asleep to the sound of Harry chuckling softly.