Apologies for the short chapter. Tooth aches, headaches and dentist visits was the entirety of my free time this past week. Still I hope you enjoy and I'll try to post what can be considered the part 2 of this chapter sooner than I normally update.
-REVISED 4/2/2023.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
Among Snakes
Upon taking off the sorting hat, the accents of Harry's robe and uniform changed to the deep green and silver colors of Slytherin while Nova hopped back on his shoulder. After a moment of stunned silence, the Slytherin table shouted and hollered like triumphant maniacs, as if Harry was some ultimate once-in-a-lifetime prize they had won and could now lord over the rest of the school. Most everyone else was motionless, though Gryffindor seemed to be the first to break out of their stunned detachment to glare at him.
'It's amazing how fast that instant hate appeared,' he thought to himself as he ignored everyone's chatting or glare and made his way to the Slytherin table.
Even among the professors, only Flitwick, smiling as he graciously did, and Snape, with a blank expression, clapped properly. His mother, which he now had a better view of, was clapping very slowly, unsure of how to react. Harry wondered how much she knew about Dumbledore's suggestion for Hardwin to ''watch out'' for him. He shouldn't care really, not after her part in whatever happened to this-Harry. He tried not to look directly at her, not simply for the sake of his fiery emotions but also because if anyone could connect his resemblance to James Potter, it would be her, and possibly Sirius. Luckily, Nova was on his shoulder, blocking most of his face from the professors' direct view.
Harry looked over the excited Slytherins and spotted an empty space beside Malfoy. 'Better the devil you know,' he mentally said with a physical shrug. He took a seat next to a surprised and confused Malfoy—the only one he could see not clapping. Harry could see Draco wanted to ask him how this unnatural turn of events happened, but Harry wasn't willing to explain anything in front of so many people. He told Malfoy, "Later," and Nova hopped on the table to the wonderment of everyone nearby. Harry was grateful he didn't have to tell anyone not to touch her as they waited for Dumbledore's start-of-term notices.
Draco leaned in and said, "That barmy madness took nearly ten minutes. You shattered the record for longest sorting."
Draco looked around his classmates. To the left of Draco was Crabbe and Goyle. Ahead of him was Nott, Parkinson, and Zabini, and on Harry's right was Greengrass and Davis. Draco noted many of them, along with the older years, were trying very hard not to look at the phoenix on the table, pruning its feathers in front of Harry, or at his eye-catching scars. Most of them failed utterly, while others had a look of sheer greed or envy in their eyes. Draco understood. In their minds, this was the son of the immortal alchemist whose philosopher's stone could turn any base metal into gold. They easily saw Harry as potentially being the wealthiest wizard in all of Britain. And with great wealth, came great power.
"I could care less," Harry plainly voiced as he massaged the base of Nova's neck.
It was nice to shower his phoenix with affection but in truth, Harry needed to do something with his hands. Seated amongst so many future Death Eaters, he could feel them twitching for deadly action. There was a strong argument in his mind that he could save a lot of lives by killing them all now—Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, the Carrows, and who knew how many others—and the only thing keeping his hand from reaching his wand—aside from Nova—was the possibility his reckless actions might do more harm to the future than good. What made sitting among them so much worse was they all looked eager to embrace him into their narrow-minded fold, as if he believed and agreed with their superiority nonsense.
"Does that also include being Slytherin," Draco whispered. "Because I never saw that coming."
Any further conversation was suspended for the moment as Dumbledore went through his usual start of term pitter-patter. Before he could introduce the delegations joining them for the year, Harry's number one target barged through the Great Hall doors. Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastor Moody, but a careful eye on his mouth revealed the tell-tale sign of a quick lick of his lips. A key figure in the enemy's organization, Barty Crouch Jr., featured very prominently in Harry's plan to destroy Voldemort, or at the very least, hinder the monster severely by eliminating the zealot. Harry could feel his magic start to boil with savage want at the mere thought of Barty Jr.'s ability to walk around breathing, as if he deserved to live. Harry forcibly returned his focus on Nova, using her as a focal point to regain control.
Harry paid enough attention to understand Dumbledore was speaking and the delegation from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang were making their flamboyant entrances, but it was hardly the amount of focus he was diverting to the best way to bring Crouch down. The two problems he was facing were Moody's eye and the potential for collateral damage. They were in a school full of children, and the last thing Harry wanted was casualties. He would have to be careful of all the methods of detection Moody no doubt had for Crouch to use—most notably, his eye. Additionally, no matter what, Harry couldn't snatch the man up around any witnesses, whether they be human, ghost, or portrait.
'Oh, how I really wish I had the Maruader's Map,' Harry mentally yearned.
The only time Harry paused his mental calculations was to evaluate Fleur's condition when the Beauxbaton students entered the Great Hall. He never had the chance to check her over before flaming away and was worried her injuries might have been more serious than what he could see. He scanned the Prophet and the French paper for any mention of Delacour, injured or not, and found none, which he took as a good sign. The Delacours were a prominent family, and if one of theirs was seriously injured or killed, he was sure it would have been reported. Seeing her now, beautifully smiling, charming almost every man, woman, and ghost in the room, Harry felt a sense of relief. After her graceful dance number and curtsy, the Beauxbaton delegation took their seats at the Ravenclaw table.
Harry ignored most of the murmur surrounding Krum as the Durmstrang delegation took their seat at the Slytherin table. While nearly all eyes gazed at the international Quidditch sensation, Harry noted that Malfoy didn't attempt to make conversation with the Bulgarian this time. The silver-blonde haired scion made no move to greet Krum, reminding him yet again that Draco was much older than he looked and had suffered more than most in the room.
The rest of the announcements were as Harry remembered them before they're finally allowed to eat, and everyone bombarded him with questions. Harry was preparing a plate for Nova when Pansy Parkinson blurted out loudly, "Is that a real phoenix? Why's it black? Shouldn't it be red?"
Theodore Nott quickly followed up with, "Are you really the son of the immortal alchemist? Does that mean you're immortal too?" Zabini and Greengrass didn't ask him anything as they ate their dinner, but Harry can tell they were listening as intently as everyone close enough was.
When Harry didn't immediately answer with the same zeal everyone seemed to be possessed with, Tracey Davis asked, "Why did Draco walk up to you earlier? Are you friends or something?"
Realizing he wanted to remain open to relations—he wouldn't say friendships—with Tracey, he knew he should answer her, but establishing his character was also integral. He had fake scars for a reason. Playing the damaged persona fit his mind frame and kept him from being a talker. Harry prepared his own plate before answering.
"It's a real phoenix," he began. "No, I'm not immortal. And I've known Malfoy for a while," he vaguely answered before snapping his deathly white pine wand out of his wrist holder and into his hand, causing several eyes to spring up confused.
"Is that your wand?" Pansy asked, aghast as he began casting detection charms over the food. Harry noticed Draco stop eating, put his fork-full down and wait, seemingly for the okay from him. The majority of those close enough are looking at him oddly.
"Hello," the blonde-haired girl beside Harry greeted. "I'm Daphne Greengrass, heiress of Noble House Greengrass," she said cordially.
'She smells nice,' he thought, then mentally berated himself for the useless thought. Aside from her gracefully stunning face, Harry couldn't say he knew the beautiful girl well, or much at all. He purposefully had to dive into the archives of his perfect recall for her profile. In his timeline, he had seen her a number of times around school but had never directly interacted with her—not that he would, being Gryffindor. Harry faintly remembered the boys in the commons giving her a high rank among all the girls in school. She had turned a lot of heads and possibly broken a lot of hearts. Other than that, Harry didn't recall her head on the prison wall, so there was a good chance she became a Death Eater or the wife of one—though possibly not by choice. He finished scanning his food before responding in just as cordial a manner as her.
"Hello. I'm Ares Flamel."
When Harry began to eat, Draco did as well, while making a mental note of Harry's various social snubs. Draco would have to talk with Harry about it later, and said nothing for the moment.
Greengrass continued, "May I ask why you're examining your food?"
The way everyone feasted on his replies, as much as they did on the delicious food in front of them, was more annoying than when he was the Boy-Who-Lived. It made him feel like a caged animal in a zoo. Harry answered her simply because she was the only one who introduced herself. Everyone else was too impressed by his phoenix or his surname to even be polite. Greengrass and Zabini, at least, kept their cool.
"I didn't see the house elves prepare it," was all Harry said. When he saw Greengrass' brows move together, confused, he explained further, "I can't be sure there isn't anything poisonous or worse in this if I didn't see it made."
"You think someone would actually poison your food?" Greengrass asked, startled.
"It's happened before," Harry offhandedly stated, trying very hard to ignore the memory of cursed or rotten food they would give him in prison. They thought it was funny to give Harry a genuine fear of food and would randomly poison what they gave him so he'd always have to guess. When Horcrux-Voldemort eventually made him realize that they couldn't kill him, Harry ate anything they gave him, poisoned, cursed, or not, because his hunger trumped his immediate safety. At least being sick gave him something to do.
Harry was vaguely aware that his action had drawn some attention from his professors, most notably Dumbledore and Snape. Then Parkinson takes another stab at getting answers.
"I'm heiress Pansy Parkinson, of Noble House Parkinson," she said. "Can you tell us how you got your phoenix?"
"Certainly," Harry answered in a higher tone than normal. He immediately noticed many ears perk up at this stunning revelation, including Draco, though in his case it was more shocking. "If you take a chicken egg and stick it on the very top of your head. It has to be the very top—that's important. And walk around with a chicken egg on the top of your head for thirty consecutive days, it'll hatch a phoenix."
'Please, oh please, let some Slytherin idiot try,' Harry mentally pleaded.
"Really?" Parkinson asked excitedly. "Is that really what you did?"
"Would I lie?" Harry responded far too innocently.
In a feat of impressive timing, Nova flapped her powerful wings, lending authenticity to the prank, and blowing away anything on the table that didn't weigh much. To his left, Draco was grinning, and his shoulders shook as he silently laughed to himself. To his right, Daphne does everything she can to maintain her composure, but the upward tick of her full lips and knitted brow were obvious give-aways.
Even the well dressed Zabini, who held no expression of humor, stated, "That's a good one." Harry didn't remember much of the tall, dark-skinned boy besides following him once, and a comment he made to Ginny.
"Theodore Nott," Nott announced. "Heir and future head of Noble House Nott." Harry was going to have to ask Draco why they all insisted on adding their houses to their names like it had some greater meaning. "So, you're a true Flamel, aren't you? Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House Flamel?"
Harry took his sweet time chewing, amazed they're actually ruining the delicious taste of the food. Harry and the Flamels were expecting the questions, even expecting to make the paper in a day or two's news cycle, but it was still annoying to hear.
Once he swallowed, he simply answered, "Do you know any others?"
Nott looked around before replying, "Well, no, but for all we know, you could've been raised by some bottom feeding muggles with the same name, and be a mudblood yourself, eh Draco?" Nott nodded to Draco with a wide grin, expecting a laugh, but none was forthcoming. Draco continued to eat, and oddly enough that bewildered everyone but Harry.
Harry gripped his fork tighter as Nott so casually used that slur, fanning the fire of emotions within him. Having been raised by the worst Muggles, Harry was acutely aware that bigotry and prejudice had nothing to do with one's blood. It was exactly like Salazar Slytherin claimed: weak-minded fools who formed opinions based on the claims of other prejudiced idiots, treating those they deemed 'lesser' like little more than cattle simply because they weren't born into the right family.
Harry tilted his head and squinted his eyes as he responded in a tone thick with sarcasm. "Oh, yeah, because it's so simple to be home-schooled in magic, by non-magical parents, and still transfer straight into fourth your? Yes, I think you might be onto something there."
Draco leaned over and hardly whispered, "It wouldn't surprise me if I saw an egg on his head tomorrow."
At that, Harry snorted and smirked when Tracey interjected, "I've noticed you haven't answered the question. Are you really related to the immortal alchemist? Or would you simply prefer we believe you are with no proof."
Everyone who was close enough had an ear open for his answer. Personally, he didn't care what they believed, but he'd rather get this out of the way. The faster they learned, the quicker they'd stop bugging him about it. Instead of responding to her, Harry extended his hand and allowed the official heir ring of House Flamel to show with a small flash of white. It was a thick ring with a clear emblem and letter F on its face. Since many of them were heirs themselves, they easily spotted its authenticity.
"I suppose that would have been hard to fake, Miss?" Harry asked.
"Tracey Davis, soon to be Black," she stated then added, "Of Noble and Most Ancient House Black." Her smile told Harry how much she enjoyed the title and status.
"Heir-apparent," Harry stated, obscuring the ring again. "Not that it matters much when the head of your house is immortal." Harry could see the ring send a ripple throughout the Slytherin table, up to the Durmstrang representatives, but not beyond. Not to say the Hufflepuffs didn't hear or spot his ring, then alert anyone else who would listen. It was just that Slytherins refused to cross house lines, even to pass along obviously juicy gossip.
"Does that mean that you're immortal-" Nott started but was interrupted by Draco.
"Oh, will you let the man bloody well eat in peace," Draco declared not only to Nott, but anyone else who wanted to bother Harry with questions. As if a silent Malfoy wasn't shocking enough to these Slytherins, he was also defending him without using his father's name, bragging or campaigning for favors. Tracey in particular seemed the most suspicious.
Harry raised his brows in pleasant surprise a moment before returning to his meal graciously. He was relatively quiet after that, and Draco didn't push for conversation any more than the others, which he was grateful for. Soon, the meal cleared, and the student body was bid goodnight before the prefects led everyone to their houses. Harry felt weird traveling down to the dungeons with Draco at his elbow, rather than up toward Gryffindor commons with Ron and Hermione.
They reached a stone wall, and their prefect, a tall, large boy, said loudly and clearly, "Brotherhood." The bumpy-faced prefect then began to explain that the password would change every month, posted on the notice board, and if you forgot it, you'd have to wait outside until someone let you in. The wall moved to the side, and they all entered the Slytherin common room. It was exactly like Harry remembered it the one time Ron and himself snuck in during their second year. The room's color palette was a variety of blacks, greens, silvers, or dark oak. Even the lighting throughout the room gave off a greenish hue. It was furnished with ornate and plush-looking couches, chairs, and tables scattered throughout the cavernous room, and there were snake ornaments everywhere. Almost every fixture had some sort of snake motif or carving on it.
Harry noticed that none of the upper years had retreated to their rooms, but instead had taken up the best seats in front of the largest fireplace. The entire house remained in the spacious common room as the gruff prefect with a nose that had been hit with too many bludgers addressed the first years in an arrogant and commanding voice.
"Settle down!" he yelled. "I am your seventh year prefect, Zemdai Khan. Allow me to be the first to welcome you into the noble house of Slytherin. As members of this prestigious house, you will abide by its rules and its... unique expectations without question." Khan grinned disgustingly at the first years. Harry noticed many of the sixth and seventh year boys smirking and nodding their heads with their prefect, but none of the girls expressed a similar vigor, and their body language read as stiff to him.
"First off, you are Slytherin as much as Slytherin is you, but only as far as the best you have to offer," Khan continued. "That means you're only really Slytherin when you are exemplary. To fail in any aspect of your time here is to fail your house and your housemates. Gain as many house points as possible, be better than the rest and never be late. The other prefects will help guide you to your classes to make sure you know where they are." Khan put his hands behind his wide back and began to slowly walk around the first years, not unlike a shark prowling for prey.
"Second, never give others the opportunity to catch you alone," the prefect loudly instructed. "This is the best house in Hogwarts. That means the other houses will do everything they can to humiliate and hurt us because they feel inferior to us! You must never give them the chance. Always stay with at least one other Slytherin, even if you have to go to the lavatory." Khan glared at many of the first years hard enough to intimidate them. Being two or three times their size, he must seem like a monster glaring down on them.
"Third. A part of the reason why we are so great is because we don't care if you're out to break the rules," he disclosed. Khan waited for some of the surprised first years to settle their bemusement. "It's true. This is the house of the cunning. If you do something the rules say you're not supposed to, it doesn't matter... SO LONG AS YOU DON'T GET CAUGHT," he angrily yelled. Harry didn't like the open invitation for wanton mayhem. It could lead to all sorts of deplorable trouble.
Khan actually had the nerve to glare at Harry, intent on putting fear in what he must think was simply a meek fourth year with a phoenix and a title. Little did he know he was been tortured for decades and stood toe to toe with Voldemort countless times. This pathetic display of intimidation was no more threatening than a stiff breeze. When Harry didn't back down, Khan grunted and continued addressing the firsties.
"Should you get caught, and cost this house points for whatever reason, you can expect immediate and adequate repercussions—the higher the amount of points lost, the worse the punishment will be. Fourth. Anything that happens in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin. If you are caught gossiping about what goes on in-house, or Merlin forbid, with a professor, you can expect severe repercussions. I repeat, SEVERE repercussions. That brings me to the last rule. In the eyes of the school, we represent a united front, at all times. Any and all internal disputes are resolved in-house. We have dueling pits here for just those kinds of 'discussions.' Any and all disputes against other houses—Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and those daddy-sucking Gryffindor—are supported by every member of Slytherin whether you agree with it or not. Outside this common room, we are one. Slytherin is one. No matter what."
He made sure everyone understood that point before his sinister expression returned. He was standing exactly where he started but made sure to stare at Harry as he continued.
"Above all other rules, never violate that one, because I will make it my personal mission to break you of your lapse in judgment, and make a clear example out of you. Does everyone understand?!" It was more of a point than a question so the first years nodded.
"Everyone has their own room. Your name will be by the door. It has the bare essential. If you know the spells, you may alter it however you like. Do not ask a prefect to alter anything for you because the answer will be no. Now get!" he commanded, pointing in the direction of their rooms. Harry turned to Draco assuming his room was with the other fourth years when Khan called, "Oi, Flamel!"
Draco, along with everyone else, didn't move far away, eager to see how Harry might submit to the ''older'' boy. Harry returned his attention to the portly prefect who squared his large shoulders and tried to step into Harry's personal space. Nova expanded and flapped her wings threateningly, devoiding him of the notion that intimidating her master was a good idea. Khan hopped a couple steps back, looking at the angry phoenix wearily.
Trying his best not to look intimidated, he asked, "Did you get all that?"
"Only the parts that were in English." Harry said in his best condescending tone.
"That's prefect Khan to you, and you best watch your mouth, boy," Khan threatened before turning to Draco. "Show him his room. Fourth year wing. And make sure he knows why I don't care who his family is." He glared at Harry, threatening, "Final warning." Khan turned, and took the big seat in front of the fireplace, surrounded by sixth and seventh years.
As the biggest group of bullies in Slytherin laughed amongst themselves, Draco asked Harry with an impending sense of farewell, "He's not going to make it, is he?"
"Fortunately for him, he's not my concern," Harry easily answered, turning to head to his room. "But I'd be surprised if he did," he finished.
They silently made their way to Harry's room. Upon entering the fourth-year wing, they turned right as Draco explained that boys were on the right and girls were on the left. At the end of the hall, they stopped at a door with the name Ares Flamel on a gold plaque on the wall beside it. Once inside, Draco was about to talk when Harry frustratingly put his hand up, halting the blonde from uttering a word. Harry flicked his wand out of his wrist holster and proceeded to cast layer after layer of protection, detection, and privacy charms.
Once finished, he looked at Draco and stated, "The next time you start talking without a privacy charm, I'm going to have to think of creative ways to make you remember."
Draco tried to retain as much dignity as he could, but nodded anyway. The room had a bed, table, chair, and another room for his shower and toilet. It was the bare essentials, as Khan had said, but Draco looked around for a moment, his brows knitted in confusion, and stated, "That's weird. Normally your trunk is here before you are, but I don't see yours."
Harry removed the chain with his shrunken trunk from around his neck. "It's more secure this way." Harry turned the trunk back to its normal size. After using his magic on the top compartment, providing a blood sample, then whispering the passphrase, "From Ruin," it allowed Harry to open it and fetch Nova's stand. With Nova comfortable, Harry turned to Draco as the silver blonde said with something of a smirk, "Low and behold, Harry Potter, the Slytherin."
"Stuff it Malfoy," Harry returned unamused.
"At least tell me why you're here instead of Gryffindor," Malfoy asked.
"Maybe later," Harry answered before digging for information of his own. "What can you tell me about second year? Specifically about the Chamber of Secrets."
Draco took a moment to gather his thoughts, leaning on the desk, then answered, "I can't say there were too many differences. All the kids who got petrified were healed by the end of year. We never learned who the heir of Slytherin was, or where the chamber was, or what was petrifying students. Whatever it was, did ultimately stop."
Harry massaged his jaw, curious how the event was resolved in this timeline. If Hardwin didn't have the Horcrux, he wouldn't be able to know parseltongue and enter the chamber. "So, it just ended one day? Nothing was resolved?" Draco took a moment to think, then nodded. Harry asked, "Did Hardwin at least speak parseltongue when you dueled him? If you dueled him?"
"No," Draco says with realization. "I mean we did duel, but he just banished the snake. He's a much better duelist than you were." Draco absentmindedly stated before quickly backtracking. "Well, not so much anymore. Why?"
Harry wasn't sure how much to tell Draco, but decided some context wouldn't be bad. "I told you about the diary, but I didn't tell you about the Chamber of Secrets. The entrance is on the second floor girls bathroom and I want to use it for various reasons since only someone who speaks parseltongue can open it. In our time line, I went down there and fought a Basilisk before destroying the diary with its Basilisk fang."
"So that's how you got it," Draco said, slightly astonished. "Bloody hell you fought an actual Basilisk."
Harry nodded, then continued, "The problem is I can't be sure if Hardwin killed the Basilisk in the Chamber, or destroyed the diary some other way because I'm not sure if he has a Horcrux or not."
Draco took most of the news in stride, except for Hardwin's eye-opening revelation. It didn't make sense to Draco and he asked, "What, why, and how?
"Lots of theories but not enough evidence to support anything for the moment," Harry answered. "I still need to get into the Chamber, which might still have a live and hungry Basilisk in it." Harry turned to a shocked Draco with the hint of a smile and asked, "You still sure you want to help, Malfoy?"
Draco turned his stricken face toward Harry, locking eyes before stealing his features. "Did I stutter, Potter? I said I'm in, didn't I?"
Harry shrugged before saying, "Stop calling me, Potter. The Chamber's where I'm planning on keeping Crouch Jr."
"Crouch Jr?" Draco repeated in confusion. "How are you going to bring Crouch into Hogwarts?"
"Oh, Malfoy," Harry chimed with such amusement. "Didn't they tell you anything?" Harry then explained how Crouch Jr.'s death was faked as well as the plan to impersonate Moody and lead Harry to the cemetery on Riddle's property.
"Can't anything be simple with you?" Draco asked, exasperated.
"Welcome to my life," Harry begrudgingly answered.
"I can't imagine it'll be easy taking him alive," Draco continued. " Moody's bewitched eye, plus whatever other methods of detection the real Moody has for Crouch Jr. to use. I remember he was a wicked fighter among all the Death Eaters. Even father said he'd never willingly fight him. Sounds tough. You have a plan?"
"Nothing I like," Harry admitted. "For the moment, I have the element of surprise, but there are too many students he'd no doubt use as shields. I don't want to give him that option. There's a map that'll help me get him when he's alone, but I'll need to steal it from Hardwin or the twins."
"We could ask Faux-Moody if he'd train us," Malfoy suggested, and at Harry's curious look Draco continued. "What? If he's Crouch Jr., then wouldn't he want to train Lucius Malfoy's son? That'll get us alone with him, then we can take him."
"He's supposed to act like the real Moody who is notorious for bringing down Death Eaters and the like," Harry pointed out. "The last thing he'll want to do is train a Malfoy. Plus, Crouch hates all Death Eaters who walked instead of helping the monster like they should have. He'd kill you as easily as any other Death Eater who didn't support his master. I'll put some serious thought behind it later."
Malfoy simply nodded in understanding. "What about training? We can't just expect to battle the Dark Lord without proper training."
"We'll train both physically and obviously magically," Harry thoughtfully replied. "For physical conditioning, we'll train in the morning. As for magical, if the Basilisk is gone, we'll train down in the Chamber. For a teacher, honestly, I can't think of a single witch or wizard that's a perfect fit. I'd prefer Moody over anyone, but-"
"But with him being trapped in his own trunk and all," Malfoy finished before suggesting, "Snape?"
"He was a fair duelist, at best, and we don't need a duelist," Harry answers. "We need a fighter—a combat specialist. And even if Snape was an option, I could never trust him. Is he the same as I remember?"
"He's got less of an edge," Malfoy informed him. "But for the most part, I'd say, yes. He smiles at least once a month in this timeline. How about Sirius?" Harry locked eyes with Malfoy at the mention of his Godfather. "He's supposed to be the best fighter out of all the Aurors. Even father hates admitting how good he is."
"I'd be open to it if I knew more," Harry evenly stated. "Relationships, loyalties, personal history, they're all different in this timeline. And more than anything, I don't want to travel down a path that leads to Dumbledore, which will be hard considering most roads lead to him or Voldemort. I'll send Nicolas and Perenelle a letter asking if they know anyone that I can pay to train us. For now, I'll see to the Basilisk before I test your skill level."
Standing up, Draco asked in disbelief, "You're not going tonight?"
"Pretty much," Harry answered. "I'm thinking four in the morning, when everyone's asleep. There's less chance of Hardwin or the twins seeing me on the map at that time."
Draco shook his head as if he couldn't believe Harry would do this. "I guess I'll see you at four in the morning." The platinum-blonde stopped halfway to the door and said, "I forgot to mention, you're going to want to ward your door to keep Khan or any of the Upper Order from breaking in."
"What the hell is the Upper Order and why would they break into my room?" Harry asked with a frown. It nearly sounded like a challenge to Harry. "Not that I wasn't going to ward it anyway."
"Every year has its own faction. Myself, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott, Parkinson, Davis, and Greengrass would be fourth year's faction. The Upper Order is the faction for all of Slytherin. The way most wouldn't want to cross me because of my family name, everybody is taught not to cross the Upper Order. The Order was primarily made of prefects but it's grown in the last few years," Draco explained.
"So, Junior Death Eaters in training, is it? My way is law; do it or die, sort of group," Harry summarized as Draco nods. "And these top dicks break into peoples' rooms?"
"Basically," Draco answered with a half-nod. "They say it's to motivate the younger years to protect themselves at all times, even among your housemates, but it's done to any witch or wizard, regardless of year. It's to teach you to always be on guard in life, especially in places you consider safe. If your wards aren't good enough, they break in and haze you. Khan, in particular, is probably the best in-house at dismantling wards."
Harry shook his head at the lunacy of Slytherin house. No wonder Salazar was in a huff about this den of idiots. "Is that why he thinks I should be afraid of him?"
"No," Draco answered. "He's vicious—as you'd expect of a Slytherin—but in his case, he's not privileged by status like most of us."
"Privileged, or burdened?" Harry eying Malfoy sternly.
When Draco realized he slipped into old, self-indulgent habits, he shook his head and corrected himself. "He's not as misguided. He's a little more clear-cut; primitive and brutal. He doesn't have a family that any of our parents can threaten, so there's nothing that can stop him from doing what he wants. Since his first year, I've heard they've tried to expel him a total of eight times for going too far. As you know, Dumbledore doesn't expel anyone. So Khan gets a slap on the wrist and then he gets revenge. After the eighth victim, no one messes with him anymore. He'll keep away from heirs, and the like, but anyone else is fair game."
"I..." Harry paused to reign in his anger before clearly asking, "Dumbledore and Snape approve of this? I can't for a second think McGonagall would allow any of this."
"I'm pretty sure McGonagall doesn't know too much," Draco reasoned. "She might be Deputy Headmistress, but she's still head of Gryffindor, and Snape only talks house business with Dumbledore."
Harry shook his head in amazement, stating, "I've never heard of anything like this from other houses."
"It's not called the Den of Snakes for nothing, Potter," Draco retorted. "If you want to stay safe, you really have to be on guard here, all the time, or you'll regret it. Most of the time it's nothing but embarrassing stuff that's forgotten about in a week, but sometimes... sometimes it's more than that."
Harry's frown turned dark, murderous, as Draco's implication set in, and he asked, "What do you mean?"
Malfoy was more alert of Harry's tone but answered anyway. "I mean you have to protect yourself as best you can here, women especially. It's why we're in groups. Alliances and pacts are formed here just like in the real world to advance agendas and safeguards against threats. If you thought we were all great chums here like you, Granger and Weasley, you couldn't be more wrong. Friends here is the best way to ensure a knife to the back, and everyone knows it... or they learn to."
When Harry had no words of reply, Draco continued.
"The first night isn't bad by comparison. The older kids know first years aren't going to have great wards to protect themselves. The most that'll happen to them is something embarrassing but painless. After that, they have time, usually a month or two to learn something decent or it gets worse. The only real rule is no lasting physical damage. The emotional damage serves to show us who's weak, and who isn't. No matter what they do, you keep it in and shrug it off, because if they smell weakness, they'll stay on you until you break."
Harry's expression grew darker with every sentence and Draco couldn't help but take a small step back. Harry asked, "You said it happens to all years?"
"I've never taken part myself—like I said, it's mostly older years—but for fourth years and up, it can get pretty bad," Draco says carefully. "As you might imagine, some of the older boys like to break into the girls' rooms. I can only speculate what happens. I know the girls tend to sleep three or four to a room for protection, but sometimes that doesn't work. It's part of the reason why Khan is so sought after. He can dismantle some of the best wards in Slytherin, and he's a good duelist. Heiresses are usually safe, but if you don't have allies or a powerful family, then... Well, I can't recall anything too terrible, but then again, I didn't- I wasn't in the right frame of mind to care."
"What time?" Harry demanded to know in a dire tone, his storming eyes glowing green. Harry's anger was ready to burst. It wasn't necessarily the Slytherin first years that had his insides twisting, but the memories he was shown over and over of what those disgusting animals did to Cho, Katie, Angelina, Alicia, Lavender, the Patils, Susan, Gabrielle, Fleur, Luna, Ginny... Hermione; His best friend. The one who stayed with him through everything. She suffered because these jackals never met the violent hand they seem to need to learn to stop. In his mind, this was ground zero for that type of violation, and Harry will not stand for it.
"What time what?" Draco asked before he realized what Harry meant to ask. "Oh, uh, usually around Midnight to 2 AM."
"Do the professors know?" Harry continued to hunt for more symptoms of this disease. Even if most don't know, he's sure those at the top must, and that makes him all the more angrier.
"I can't say, not for sure," Draco slowly stated, wincing as he feels—actually feels—Harry's magic smother and strangle the air in the room. It's hard to breathe, yet Draco feels the need to complete his statement, albeit carefully. "But I don't see how Snape and Dumbledore wouldn't know. Remember rule four. The few that have broken it... were made examples of."
"Change of plans," Harry abruptly stated. "The Chamber will be tomorrow night."
Draco was still straining against the magical force Harry projected, and was almost scared to ask, but did anyway. "And tonight?"
"Go get some rest, Malfoy," Harry said, ignoring his question.
Malfoy eyed Harry nervously and hesitantly asked, "...You're not going to kill anyone, right?"
"Death would be too good for them," Harry answered, barely aware of the question as his mind raced to formulate the best punishment for these misguided young snakes. At the time, Slytherin's request seemed like little more than a nuisance. Harry certainly didn't think he was there to be the parent these baby bigots needed. It was almost humorous to think he had traveled back in time to be a life coach to Slytherins, but after what Draco had said, after realizing that he was at the center of where it was all cultivated, he couldn't ignore it. More than that, he was looking forward to taking on this responsibility.
When he realized he was doing this not only for the women this might affect in the future, but also as a way of apologizing to them, he felt great shame. Shame because there was some part of his mind that was doing this as penance for his own failings. He blamed himself for failing to prevent the suffering his friends had gone through, and to relieve that guilt he was going to correct this error in their character. That this was as much for himself as for others was the definition of selfishness. Harry knew whatever punishment he settled on needed to happen, but he couldn't seem to separate the need for redemption from the remorse he felt.
It was a cycle he didn't wish to continue, so while he navigated the first-year halls, he was adamant about keeping this to himself and made a mental note to ensure Draco didn't tell anyone either. As tempted as he was to give them a target for their paltry ire, if he came out and let them know he was responsible for their suffering or embarrassment, whether justified or not, they wouldn't see the retribution for what it was; a lesson. They'd only see a challenge to their rule, to the status quo, to their dominance and completely ignore their actions as the source of their sanction. They were so self-absorbed they'd easily mistake a moral lesson for a test to their 'claim.'
'No,' Harry mentally decreed. 'This is one lesson they WILL learn, or it'll only get worse. So much worse.' He wouldn't let this cycle of dictatorial 'one rule over all' continue. This fight was also against Voldemort, Harry reasoned, and he raged against this problem with as much fire and devotion as he had for actually killing the Lord of Parasites himself.
A Basilisk among snakes indeed.
I'm considering this Chapter part 1 of 2 because I don't feel it's complete. But as I did not have much time this week and I really want to keep to my personal deadlines, I thought I'd post this now. I just know I wouldn't be able to finish what I feel is a complete chapter to my standards by tomorrow.
While not a lot happened in this chapter(I lament to say), I'd love to know what you think! Please leave a comment and thank you for reading.