After Remus left, which had involved many promises of secrecy and of meeting again soon, Sirius began Harry's training in earnest. In the days before Harry's departure to Hogwarts, Sirius took him out to a forest clearing, for the demonstration of a spell he wanted Harry to learn.
"You need something other than stupify and expelliarmus," Sirius explained, twirling his wand in one hand. "The way you dealt with the troll shows a lot of promise, but we don't have the time to get your fundamentals up to scratch to really make use of transfiguration in a fight." Sirius smirked, pointing his wand at a tree. "What you need right now is an ace up your sleeve, something quick, powerful, brutal, that you can master quickly. Something adaptable and hard to counter in a way your enemies aren't expecting."
Harry watched Sirius pacing from his seat on a tree stump, nodding at Sirius' explanation. The brief moments of his fight against the troll plagued his waking and sleeping hours. Hermione had been so close to being killed, and Harry had only saved her by luck. He grit his teeth in frustration. Even after five years of study he'd come no closer to learning a spell that could do what Ron had accidentally done in their first year. He was in need of some serious help.
"I have a particular spell in mind. Your Father and I created it, well, adapted is probably more accurate," Sirius said with a wry smile. "It's based on quite a nasty spell from my family's library, divested of some of the unnecessarily violent aspects, like barbs that melt flesh and cause never ending bleeding."
Harry's eyes widened. What kind of spell was Sirius going to teach him?
Harry's eyes were fixed on Sirius` raised wand. Harry blinked as a dark streak took rapid flight across the clearing. It crashed into a tree with audible force, snaking around the trunk like an angry boa constrictor.
Harry looked at Sirius, impressed. "That looked pretty strong."
Sirius smirked, "It looks mildly impressive, but I can promise you, it is much harder to block than any other constrictor spell that looks similar. It will totally ignore a protego and it carries enough magical force that it will smash through most conjured shields."
Sirius conducted his wand in a twirl and what look like a sturdy black chain snaked through the air again, winding between different trees. "You can also control it, with enough practice, so that it avoids any attempts to dodge or block, and once it's got a hold of you, there's little chance of getting free."
"Could it stop a troll?" Harry asked.
Sirius flicked his wand again the dark links turned silver, tightened around the thick trunk of an old oak with a loud groaning creak. Sirius looked at Harry. "How do you think we stopped Moony whenever he got out of control?"
Harry glanced at the chain again, mind casting back to the memory of the insane strength of Remus' werewolf form.
"And you think I can learn it?" Harry said.
Sirius shrugged, "James first got it down when we were sixteen, which is around the age you'd be if we hadn't turned back the clock. Given your talent in transfiguration, which is most of the challenge in conjuring this, I don't see why not, given practice."
Harry pulled out his wand, determined. If his dad could do it at sixteen, then Harry would not back down until he had it mastered.
However, in the days following, and despite his best efforts, Harry didn't manage to conjure more than a limp, brittle chain, closer to stone than metal. Sirius kept on reassuring him that even that progress was impressive, but Harry wasn't pleased. He'd mastered the summoning charm in mere hours with the first task of the Triwizard Tournament breathing down his neck, and Harry was determined to approach this task with the same intensity. Who knew when he might need it.
Harry returned to Hogwarts with a much greater sense of direction than when he'd left. Now armed with his invisibility cloak, Harry could safely sneak off to the room of requirement whenever he wished.
Within his first week back, Harry spent at least an hour a day there. He'd made some progress on the strength of the chains, but it still fell limp out of his wand.
Apart from his minor obsession with learning Sirius' spell, Harry was enjoying his time back at the castle. Now that there was a plan, thanks to the assistance of Remus, the pressure was no longer so dire. Quirrell was dangerous, sure, but ultimately harmless, so long as Harry could avoid him and let Dumbledore's defence do the work.
Even his friends seemed more energized, though for different reasons. Ron had first greeted Harry with a huge grin, holding aloft a new wand. The biggest surprise, however, was that he wasn't the only one. Neville, too, returned from the holidays with a new wand and a look of constant surprise as he told his friends the story over and over.
"I don't really know what came over me, but I just said it to Gran, out of nowhere really, 'I don't want to use dad's wand, it doesn't suit me. If I'm going to be a good wizard I need my own.'"
Apparently, Neville's Gran had agreed on the spot and taken Neville through the Floo to Diagon Alley the very same day. He'd even got an ice cream out of it, something that was apparently rarer than rain in a greenhouse.
Harry had kept an eye on Hermione for the first few weeks, wondering when she was going to bring up Flamel again, but apparently Harry's last words about it had put her off. Well, it was that or the fact that 'exams are only fifteen weeks away, Harry!'
Harry quickly settled back into life at the castle again. He would go to his lessons, spend some time with his friends, and sneak off in the latter part of the evening for some training. Besides the chain spell, he was making steady progress through the books that Sirius gave him for Christmas, starting with things that were familiar but unmastered with the aim to go with quality over quantity.
His professors continued to have high expectations of him, with McGonagall and Flitwick piling on the extra homework. After the unexpected benefit of McGonagall's matchstick to needle homework, Harry took the various challenges as seriously as he could, keeping in mind Sirius' words about the importance of fundamentals for using transfiguration in duelling. In DADA, Professor Quirrell didn't give Harry any more books, but he did often call on Harry to demonstrate spells that Harry knew for a fact weren't usual for first years to know. The man didn't seem to care, however, and seemed to just assume, correctly, that Harry would know whatever spell he had in mind. Harry had tried to deny his knowledge on one occasion, but Quirrell had simply given him a look and taken two house points off, gesturing for him to perform the spell anyway.
The first test of Harry's new tactic regarding Quirrell came with the announcement of the second Quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor were up against Hufflepuff, and Sirius was, once again, up in the stands, ready and watching for any signs of interference.
Professor Snape was referee once more, but this time, in the lead up to the match, he accosted Harry after class.
"A moment, Mr Potter."
Harry lingered as the rest of the class filtered out.
"Was something wrong with my potion, Professor?" Harry asked, curious. Snape hadn't called him back since before Christmas.
"No, your potion was passable. This is regarding the upcoming Quidditch match."
"Oh," said Harry, watching Snape carefully. Snape was clearly suspicious of Quirrell. Was he going to advise him to sit out, or feign an injury, like Harry and his friends had considered the first time around?
"I would like to inspect your broom."
Harry frowned. "My broom, Professor?" Harry hadn't considered the fact that his broom might have been tampered with before the match, but it was certainly possible. "But it hasn't left my trunk. Do you think that's necessary?" Harry asked carefully, unwilling to voice the elephant in the room. It felt a little odd talking with Professor Snape about preventing attempts on his life.
"A simple provision. It will only take an evening."
Harry nodded, "Sure, I'll go and get it for you then." Harry paused, feeling compelled to say something. "Uh, thanks."
"I'll be in my office," was all Snape said, waving Harry away.
Snape clearly found nothing, in the end, because his new Nimbus was returned to him without comment, and, though Snape was once again refereeing, he'd made no further attempt to talk with Harry.
Match day came and Harry decided he was as safe as he was ever going to be. It was a clear day, and cold. Harry hovered on his broom, taking a second to focus in the silent moment anticipating the start of the game. The whistle blew and Harry soared off into the sky.
"AND THEY'RE OFF! DID SOMEONE THINK TO REMIND POTTER HE CAN'T FIND THE SNITCH UNDERGROUND?" Lee Jordan called out to the crowd.
Harry grit his teeth, pushing his broom to instant high speeds, drowning out the commentary with the sound of rushing wind. He reached the limits of the stadium and rounded, rushing back in for his first harassment of the enemy.
Harry darted right in front of the sixth year Hufflepuff seeker, broom shaking violently in his hands at the turbulence. Harry heard a shriek and looked back to see the older boy dangling underneath his own broom.
"POTTER WITH A TEXTBOOK FELLOVER FLY-BY!"
Harry smirked, now that was more like it. He flew away, gaining height again rapidly. After last game, Wood had commended Harry for his harassment of Higgs but had left one thing entirely clear— Harry was not to attempt another dive. However, as Harry circled the top of the stadium, there was only one thing on his mind— redemption.
The world around him faded away until it was just Harry and the snitch, hunter and prey. Harry's eyes roamed the pitch in the pattern he knew worked best. He circled at the right height, hovered in the blind-spot of Hufflepuff's beaters, avoiding their attention, and most importantly, he focused his entire being on identifying the slightest flicker of— ah, there it was.
Harry dived.
"NICE LITTLE TWIRL BY JOHNSON, GRYFFINDOR MAKING A DECENT START TO THE G— WAIT A MOMENT, POTTER'S DIVING! POTTER— LOOK, HE HAS THE SNITCH!"
Harry pulled out from his dive with plenty of height to spare, snitch aloft. His shocked teammates quickly crowded the air around him, yelling in shock and joy.
Harry looked Wood in the eye, who hovered just outside the rest of the celebrating squad. Wood looked back, a slow grin spreading across his face. He nodded, and Harry smirked, nodding back.
Harry enjoyed his newfound popularity as the author of Gryffindor's first win of the year. Despite knowing quite well that the opinions of his peers didn't matter, Harry enjoyed the special kind of vindictive pleasure he gained by turning the words of his former haters against them.
"It was a great catch," McLaggen said, clapping Harry on the back and knocking the toast from his hand. His hand lingered on Harry's shoulder as he turned to Katie, beside him.
"I kept telling them all, you know," McLaggen continued, "I didn't believe what they were all saying about you. We have the best chasers in the school."
Katie looked surprised, and pleased. "Uh, thanks McLaggen."
"Hey, McLaggen," Harry said, prying the boy's hand from his shoulder.
"Yesh?" McLaggen said through a big mouthful of egg.
"What does 'shag' mean?"
McLaggen paused his chewing.
"Harry!" Katie said, peering around McLaggen. "That's not a nice word. Where did you hear that?"
McLaggen turned to Harry, a worried expression on his face.
"Well I heard McLaggen call you an 'easy shag' earlier and I wondered if that's what he meant when he said we have the best chasers."
McLaggen choked and Katie Bell turned to him with a revolted expression.
Harry sat back in his seat and sighed a happy sigh, while Hermione just shook her head from across the table.
Harry wasn't winning, however, when it came to homework. On top of his extra work from McGonagall and Flitwick, the teachers were starting to ramp up for the upcoming exams. Fortunately, he was prepared.
Quite reliably, Harry had about four weeks notice of the teachers' switch to exam prep because of Hermione's eagerness to over-prepare. Using this, he had secretly written all his remaining essays, remembering quite easily the titles Hermione had drilled into him in his first year. Harry was eager to make sure the upcoming Easter holidays would be free of study.
Harry had plans after all.
"Sirius?"
"I'm here, hold on." The mirror shifted from black to Black as Sirius' face appeared. He peered at Harry, who was sitting on a chair in the room of requirement, face shining with sweat.
You been training?" Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair.
Harry nodded, -"Yeah. I've finally got the chain itself down, it's just the movement that I'm still struggling with."
Sirius looked impressed, "I keep saying it, Harry, but its true, this is not an easy spell. It took James almost a year, including the whole summer, pretty much, before he managed to get it. You're making incredible progress."
Harry shrugged. "I don't know when I'll need it. It could be the difference between a friend living or dying, so I have to keep trying until I've got it down. You said yourself, my repertoire is way too limited right now. Stupify and expelliarmus won't work against Voldemort, especially since I'm pretty sure our wands won't connect any more."
Sirius gave a hesitant nod, "I suppose. Still, don't overdo it. You don't want to injure yourself, or burn out."
Harry sighed, "I know. I'm honestly doing fine, though. I've got a good routine and I'm still able to play Quidditch and hang out with my friends and all that. It just helps, having something to focus on, you know?"
Sirius nodded, looking a bit less worried. "That's good, Harry. Easter holidays are nearly here now, so you should be able to relax a little then."
"Apart from our little job."
"Apart from our little job," Sirius agreed with a small smile. "Speaking of which, I've got the necessary tools prepared."
"You mean, you've bought some roosters," Harry said.
Sirius sighed, "You could let me make killing Slytherin's basilisk sound a bit cooler than just 'buying some chickens'."
Harry laughed. "Fine, fine. You've secured the tools. Is Remus coming?"
"No, we decided against it in the end. If Remus gets caught on Hogwarts' grounds without permission… Well, who knows what the ministry would do with him."
Harry nodded. "When should I expect you then?"
"I'll meet you at the shrieking shack at lunch time, when everyone is busy, and we can go over the plan. I'll use the invisibility cloak and follow you to the chamber from there."
"And you're certain that a rooster is going to kill it?"
"As certain as I can be without having seen it myself. Every source agrees, and I've bought fifty of them just in case."
"Alright then," said Harry.
They looked at each other and grinned, nervously. "See you on Saturday."
The first weekend of the Easter holidays had arrived. Harry left the library just before lunch, so that he and Sirius could arrive at the chamber with halls as empty as possible. Harry was nervous, but who wouldn't be, at the prospect of invading the lair of a thousand year old basilisk with your only plan resting on the vocal chords of a few chickens?
Harry had no intention of getting another scar on his arm, especially since Fawkes was unlikely to show up again this time.
The grass was still dewy from the chilly springtime morning, and the hems of Harry's robes were soaked by the time he got to the whomping willow.
It took a few attempts but Harry managed to hit the gnarled root at the bottom of the tree with a stone, making it freeze in place.
He crawled into the tunnel.
Memories swirled in his mind as he clambered his way through, brushing roots and webs out of his face. The last time he'd been here, things had not gone to plan. Peter Pettigrew escaping that night was something that still haunted his dreams.
Eventually the tunnel of dirt made way to a corridor, with stairs that led upwards into the shrieking shack.
The building creaked ominously around him as he made careful steps up, mindful of the aged and ill-maintained wood.
Harry heard footsteps above him. Sirius must have already arrived.
Harry reached the top of the stairs and moved down the landing,
In the gloom of the boarded up shack, Harry could just about make out a figure standing with their back to him through a doorway.
"Sirius?" Harry called.
The figure froze, and turned. Harry's world exploded as he half dived, half flew into the hallway. Harry skidded across the uneven floor, tucking his arms to his chest.
He pushed past the shock, fumbling for his wand, which was somewhere amidst the debris.
He breathed out in relief as his hand found the familiar wood, and he staggered to his feet. His vision was a blur of greys and blacks, and he raised a hand tenderly to his face. The feel of glass embedded under his left eye confirmed his suspicion, his glasses were broken.
Harry slowed his ragged breathing, wand held out in front of him, other hand trailing the wall beside him for balance. He opened his mouth but had to spin into another doorway as his vision was filled with purple light. The wall behind where he'd just been fizzled, releasing a nasty smell of burning wood and dirt.
Harry flung a series of stunners and cutting curses around the side of the doorway, his heart racing in his chest.
"Who are you?" He shouted. "I don't want to fi—"
It was a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that saved him this time. Harry dived away, the wizard somehow having got into the room behind him. Harry flicked his wand, shooting spells out as fast as he could, half running, half crawling back through the door. Harry's foot caught on something and he shouted, tumbling down a short flight of stairs, and hitting the wall.
Harry groaned, but breathed out a sigh of relief. He'd kept a hold of his wand. Harry sat against the wall perfectly still, eyes fixed on the landing above him and the single beam of light that shone through the doorway behind it. The light flickered and Harry flicked his wand, a huge black chain snaking upwards.
The sound of metal screeching made Harry wince, and made him miss the crack of Apparation.
"Harry!"
"Sirius?" Harry yelled. "There's someone—"
Harry covered his head as a green spell splashed against the wall beside him.
He heard Sirius yell and saw the multicolour flashing of spells being exchanged above him.
Harry slowly got to his feet, spitting at the taste of blood in his mouth.
"Get down, Harry!" Sirius yelled and Harry lurched to the side as a huge snake flew down the stairs hissing wildly as it crashed into the wall. Harry stuttered out, "Stop!" The snake paused its squirming, and Harry blasted it apart with a reducto. He spat out a chunk of bloody pulp that made it into his mouth.
Harry crept up the stairs, the sound of spellfire having moved into the room to the left.
Not a single word was spoken as Sirius and the figure exchanged spells. Finally, Sirius twirled his wand, shooting a whistling projectile faster than Harry could make out. Harry heard a pained cry, the crack of Apparation signalling the end of the fight. Harry slowly rounded the corner, bloody hand trailing the wall.
"Sirius?"
"I'm here, Harry." Sirius said, turning back to him. "I didn't get a good enough look at him. Do you reckon it was Quirrell?"
Sirius seemed to realise for the first time the state that Harry was in.
"Harry! Are you alright?" Sirius rushed over to him, waving his wand over Harry. Harry felt his nose straighten with a crack and a sharp pinch as the glass was pulled out of his skin.
"Ow," Harry said, raising a finger tenderly to his nose and the skin beneath his eye.
"Did you get hit with anything?" Sirius asked, putting an urgent hand on his shoulder.
"No," he said. "Not that I could feel, anyway."
Sirius chuckled darkly, "You would know."
"I'm good, then," Harry said. "I just need to fix my glasses, if that's even possible.
"Hold on," Sirius said. He waved his wand in a slow arc. At first nothing happened, but then Harry's glasses frame flew into Sirius' hands. Harry could hear, rather than see, shards of glass pinging back into the frame. Eventually, Sirius handed them back to Harry.
Harry finally got to see the destruction the last few minutes had wreaked.
The shack must have been barely standing, and it had hardly been a beacon of architectural stability before the fighting had started. Shards of wood covered almost all available floorspace, large holes puckered the walls and ceiling, and a haze of smoke filled the air.
The strangest thing, however, was not the damage, but the scattered piles of clothes, food, and a single piece of parchment. Sirius levitated the dusty page in front of them.
"This looks like a map," he said. "No idea where of, though. The language is European but I have no idea what."
"Has someone been living here?" Harry said, slightly revolted.
Sirius nodded, "Looks like it."
"Why would Quirrell be staying here?" Harry asked.
"It can't be him," Sirius said. "This is the den of a man who has nowhere better to go."
Harry shuddered at the idea. If not Quirrell, who was this strange man who had attacked him for walking in on their makeshift home? Why had they said nothing, and why on earth would they be hiding in the shrieking shack of all places?
"Do you think we should do this another time?" Sirius asked, "If you're not up for it—"
"No, I'm fine," Harry said, shaking himself. "We should just get this over with."
"We should also get out of here," Sirius said. "I hit them with a curse, but they might come back, and it doesn't look like there's anything else here that gives us a clue who they are."
They gingerly made their way down the stairs, which were even creakier than before. When they reached the end of the tunnel, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak from his robes and passed it back to Sirius. They walked up to the castle in silence, partly out of the lingering shock of the encounter, and partly because Harry didn't want to be seen wondering around apparently talking to himself.
Not a soul accosted them, that is to say, not a soul but Myrtle.
"Hello? Who is trying to use my toilet?"
"Hello, Myrtle," Harry said.
"Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm Harry." Ah, of course, she'd not met him yet.
Harry walked over to the tap with the snake embossment, peering around just to make sure he'd found the right one.
"Are you going down there?" Myrtle asked, sounding hesitant.
"Uh, yeah," said Harry.
"Well don't die. I'm not sharing my toilet with a first year, that's just gross."
Harry blinked. "I'll try my best, thanks, Myrtle."
Myrtle sniffed, then dove into her toilet with a splash, leaving only the lingering sound of gurgling; from her or the toilet Harry was unsure.
"Still a weirdo I see," the disembodied voice of Sirius called out from beside him.
Harry jumped slightly. "Oh, yeah, she's not too bad, really, just a bit lonely. Living by yourself in a toilet will do that to you, I suppose."
Sirius snorted, peering at the sink. "So how do you open this thing?"
"Open," Harry hissed. He stepped back as the sink unit began to rotate, sinking into the ground to reveal a deep hole.
"Show off," Sirius muttered, pulling off the invisibility cloak and handing it back to Harry. "So we just jump down?"
Harry nodded, tucking the cloak back in his robes. "Yep." He stepped over the edge.
"Woah, woah, hold on, you lunatic," Sirius said, grabbing Harry's shoulder and pulling him back.
"What?" Harry said. "I did this last time and it was fine."
Sirius rolled his eyes, "And you knew just stepping into a dark hole would just be fine, did you?"
"Yes," Harry said, "Because to make sure, I pushed Professor Lockhart down first."
Sirius looked at him eyes wide, then laughed. "Well, regardless, lets act a little more like wizards and use some magic." He tapped Harry on the head with his wand and shoved him forwards.
Harry flapped his arm for balance, expecting gravity to pull him rapidly down the chute, but instead he simply floated gently downwards. He looked up to see Sirius smiling and waving.
"I'll be down in a second!" Sirius called, waving his wand at himself.
After about twenty seconds of falling and slow sliding down the chute, Harry landed with a gentle crunch on the pile of bones adorning the floor of the chamber's entrance tunnel. A moment later Sirius landed beside him and Harry felt gravity reassert itself.
"That was much better," Harry admitted.
Sirius looked around, a fascinated expression on his face. "This is the chamber, then?"
"No," said Harry. "This is just the entrance."
Harry led Sirius down the twisting corridor, past the soberingly large shedding of the basilisk, and to the round door, ornamented with snakes, like almost everything else in this place.
"This is the front door," Harry announced and Sirius nodded, pulling a satchel from his shoulder.
Sirius placed the bag down on the ground and opened it. Immediately Harry could smell the strong odour of farm.
"You put the roosters in a bag?" Harry asked.
Sirius shrugged. "Where else?"
Harry honestly didn't have an answer to that so he ignored the bag full of chickens while Sirius summoned one up.
Sirius turned to Harry, "Right, I've put a silencing charm on these bad boys so that it doesn't startle the snake into fleeing."
"So are we just going to put one in the chamber and call the snake or what?" Harry asked.
"No, not quite," Sirius said. "We're going to use this one as bait while I disillusion the rest and place them around the chamber. Then, I'll use the Imperius curse to make this rooster sing, and if that doesn't work, hopefully the rest of them will be enough to finish it off."
"And what are we doing, apart from that?"
"You are going to call out the snake, and then run back out of the chamber as fast as possible. I will call you on the mirror if things go to plan, and if not, I'll be running right behind you."
Harry frowned, but nodded. "Alright, well, I hope I don't have to run for long."
"Me too," Sirius said, taking a deep breath. "Ready?"
Harry nodded. "Open."
Snake carvings slithered and, with a gentle rumble, the door swung open. Harry and Sirius stepped cautiously through the door and into the chamber.
They took no time to admire the grandeur, Sirius disillusioning roosters and Harry scattering them. Eventually they were ready and Harry walked as close to the large stone carving of Slytherin as he dared.
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!" The stone began to groan and Harry ran.
Harry heard a deep, cruel voice rumble behind him, "After so long, you summon me?"
A cockerel crowed, provoking a cacophony of calls from the roosters placed all across the chamber.
A ground-shaking thud was the only response from the king of serpents as it collapsed to the ground.
"Don't look!" Sirius called. "It's eyes can still petrify."
Harry stopped, and remained facing the other way.
"I'm going to cover it with something," Sirius called. "I'll let you know when I'm going to look, and if I don't say anything you'll know it's still not safe."
"Sirius!" Harry called, worried.
A few moments later Sirius called out again, "I'm looking." Then, "It's fine, Harry."
Harry breathed out the tension he'd been holding and turned around.
The basilisk hadn't even made it fully out of the statue, perhaps only thirty feet coiling onto the floor of the chamber.
"Wow," Sirius said. "That is a real beastie."
"It's definitely dead?" Harry asked.
Sirius responded by conjuring a long metal spear and banishing it through the open mouth of the snake, into its brain.
"Yep," he said.
"We should take one of the fangs," Harry said. "We'll need it to destroy the diary."
"I doubt it needs basilisk venom to destroy it." Sirius said, but still moved towards the mouth of the snake.
"Be careful," Harry said.
Sirius chuckled, crouching down. "You're one to talk."
A few cutting curses later, Sirius was floating the basilisk fang in front of them.
"We probably won't even need it," Harry said.
"Yeah, maybe we should just destroy it."
Sirius kept it hovered in mid air, deliberating.
"Eh, let's keep it. It's pretty cool." He dropped it into the bag.