A/N: For obvious reasons, there's a scene from the original version of the story that I've decided to omit entirely in this re-work. Anyone who has read the original version will know what it is and hopefully understand why I deleted it and edited all references to it, (it's more difficult to find the original now that the story has been deleted from fictionhunt, so RIP to the original version.) Hopefully it's censored enough that this fic won't be flagged, but if the rating needs to be changed I will happily do that instead.
Chapter 6 - Trapping the Roach
"Are you sure about this, Granger?" Harry asked, a bit harshly on his part, but it was all the restraint he could muster given what she'd just whispered to him.
"I can't prove anything," the Gryffindor witch said calmly, noticing the change in Harry's behaviour. "At least not yet." she added smugly.
Harry eyed her with fierceness. "What are you planning, Granger?" he asked briskly. In the corner of his eye he saw Nymphadora snort because of the tone he used.
Hermione took a deep breath and began, her voice a little shaky. "I saw the way he was looking at Dean. It was very quick and subtle, but it was there. Nobody noticed it except for me, I think. Half the girls are just in love with the pompous man and the boys just mock him." she said and paused before continuing. "He looks at Dean as though he is a… well, a... well it's just sick!"
Harry chewed his lip. "Did you notice anything, Cass?" he asked, looking at the Slytherin girl.
"No, never." She said with a shake of her head.
Harry sighed. They would need proof of what Hermione suspected, but it would be difficult since Lockhart probably locked the door when doing whatever he did in his office, and obliviated the students afterwards. Harry didn't think the professor was actually crazy enough to do anything that would leave physical evidence.
"We need to know if your suspicion is correct, Granger. I'm amazed that you didn't just run off telling the whole school about this, you being a Gryffindor and all..."
Hermione grimaced. "I may be a Gryffindor, Potter, but I am not stupid."
"So... How do we do it? How do we prove what Lockhart is doing with the students?" Tonks asked before any heated discussion could spring up.
"One of us will have to earn a detention with Lockhart," Harry said bluntly. Nymphadora visibly flinched at the suggestion. "He probably won't try anything with you, Tonks, you are a seventh year. Cassiopeia and I are able to cast shields if he tries to obliviate us. One of us will have to do it."
Granger was about to protest, but Harry stopped her with a simple lifting of his hand. He knew he was the one that was going to do it, not only to prevent risk but also, if Dumbledore saw reason to look into his memories, he could occlude that everything was plotted.
"On my next DADA class I will do something that grants me a detention with Lockhart. If he tries anything against me I will stun him. And then the Headmaster or Professor Snape can look at my memories."
But that was not the only reason why he would be the one to do this. He had something else planned for the vile professor.
"And what if he doesn't?" Granger asked.
Harry thought for a moment. He supposed if their first plan proved ineffective, a backup plan would be sufficient. The next best thing would be to stun Sophia when she next had detention and, using Hermione's supply of Polyjuice Potion, meet Lockhart disguised as the Slytherin girl.
"If he doesn't, then… We will just have to try again," Harry said casually.
They talked some more, setting the details of their plan in stone and discussing alternative ways of dealing with the problem should anything go wrong. Tonks was the first to leave; determined to try and subtly warn the students to behave in Lockhart's classes, and avoid detentions.
Hermione stayed a bit longer, and that gave Harry the opportunity to confront her. She began to rise out of her seat when Harry caught her arm.
"Look, Granger, I know that you are brewing Polyjuice Potion," he said to her.
Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. She was certain when he had met her at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom she didn't have anything to suggest it was Polyjuice. Since the potion was almost finished she didn't need the written formula in front of her anymore. "How?" She whispered her question.
"I just do, all right?" Harry stated. "Now, I don't care what you plan to do with it, but I want some of it in case we need it. Lockhart may not try anything against a student he hasn't had in detention before. You remember when Tonks first started investigating, there were several students acting oddly?" she nodded "Well, now it is only three. Thomas, Sophia and the Weasley… girl..." Harry stopped his speech suddenly, his eyes drifting to the side a little.
Hermione turned to look in the direction Harry was looking, but saw nothing unusual. "What?" She asked him.
Harry wasn't staring off to the side because he'd noticed something physically, rather he had just come to a realisation in his mind. Ginny Weasley never had any detention with Lockhart! How could I have overlooked this?
Ginny Weasley never acted like the other afflicted students, the only shared "symptom" was some memory lapses. And what was the significance of that book she carried? Whatever it was, the girl must have been suffering from an unrelated condition.
"Doesn't matter. Anyway," he continued, snapping out of his train of thought. "We might need the Polyjuice to go into a detention disguised as Sophia Shaqif, as a backup plan. For now, we will try my first plan and try to keep her away from any detention with Lockhart."
Hermione bit her lip. She had already brewed the necessary amount for the task she had in mind, she supposed she could spare a little.
"All right," she said slowly, "but I will give you only enough for one person, and for one hour."
Harry nodded. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn't need more than fifteen minutes.
—/—
It was the second week of December when Harry had finally gained his detention with Lockhart. It was no easy task, for Harry had known that the DADA professor wasn't as idiotic as he tried to appear, and would notice if Harry clearly did something on purpose to win a detention.
During the two weeks since the revelation (supposedly) of Lockhart's heinous acts, Cassiopeia had managed to talk with Sophia and warn the girl to act perfectly in Defence classes, which was successful. However, Hermione didn't have the same luck with Dean Thomas.
Harry was still trying to decipher Ginny Weasley. His best guess was that Lucius Malfoy had put a spell or something on the girl that day in Flourish and Blotts. But what goal did the aristocratic man have in mind? Opening the Chamber of Secrets?
He had spoken with Professor Binns, who told him that only a parselmouth could open the Chamber, and Harry didn't believe that Ginny Weasley was one. He was certain that he hadn't opened it himself, so the only conclusion was that Neville Longbottom did it. Which was ridiculous.
Harry had been in a foul mood for those two weeks. Having to deal with Lockhart, trying to figure out the mystery around the Chamber of Secrets, and on top of all that, the secrets about himself. He had snapped at Anthony and Septimus several times for no reason, so for now they stayed away from him. Thankfully Cassiopeia was always there, but mostly silent and observing. She knew more than anyone why Harry was so edgy.
She had told him that he was looking more like a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin with all his deciphering, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that the plan regarding Lockhart was a bit Gryffindorish. The girl suggested that they should take the matter to Professor Snape, or even Dumbledore himself. But Harry shot that idea down.
It wasn't that he didn't trust both his head of house and the headmaster to deal with the DADA teacher properly. It was far more simple than that; Harry was a Slytherin, and he planned to make the most out of that.
Yes, he was worried about the students, and had tried his best to protect them the way he could. But he also wanted something for himself once all this was done. Being the son of two Death Eaters could tarnish one's reputation, as he had noticed since McGonagall's visit at the orphanage. Even now he still wasn't sure why Tonks and Hermione had accepted him the way they had. But he would use this opportunity to improve his image for all the wizarding world to see.
And what better way to do so than being a poor boy who was victimised and helped unveil a web of abuse?
He and Cassiopeia would be pictured in a good light, Lockhart would be exposed, and the students would be safe again. Everybody would win.
Except for Lockhart.
Harry stared at the liquid inside the vial in his hand. It had no taste or colour. The smell was very subtle, probably only a Potions master would notice it. He had began to brew it two weeks ago, the day following the conversation with Cass, Granger and Tonks. It took three days to be ready, but now it was done, and it was deadly.
The Mortem Pro Iustitia draught was something he had discovered in a book at Grimmauld Place. He obviously didn't have access to the ingredients needed to brew it at school, but he had owled Kreacher requesting the elf to buy them. The book classified the potion as a dark one, and Harry surmised that it indeed was.
Back in the Middle Ages, some crimes in the Wizarding World were punished with Mortem Pro Iustitia. A person who had committed a crime against another would drink it and the potion would make an accorded justice, giving the suffering needed before death. If, however, no crime was committed, the person wouldn't suffer from its effects.
The potion was derived from the Flagelo draught, a common torture concoction. However, two more ingredients were added to the same recipe to make it Mortem Pro Iustitia: the blood of a child, which would purify the potion, giving it the sense of justice. And the hair of the person that had suffered from the crime.
Now he only needed the hair of Sophia Shaqif and Dean Thomas.
The hair from the girl would be easily taken by Cassiopeia, and Harry only hoped that she did so discreeetly. And he hoped Hermione would do the same for Dean Thomas.
Harry supposed that thirteen year old boys shouldn't just go around killing people. That brought about a whole philosophical debate with himself.
He knew that killing someone was a huge step… but a step for what, exactly? He couldn't answer.
Did he like the Dark Arts? Yes.
Did manipulating people to do something for him make him feel good? Terribly.
Would he put other people's welfare aside if that meant that his life would be better? Probably.
So why would he hesitate in killing Lockhart, especially if the man was as gruesome as Harry believed him to be?
Then Harry realised the horrible truth; he wouldn't.
As he thought more about it he came to realise that he hadn't chosen that particular potion because it would make justice. He had chosen it because it would make Gilderoy Lockhart die a horrible death, full of pain and suffering.
And Harry further realised that, if he could, he would even like to bear witness.
The thought made him shiver.
It wasn't as though he actually cared about being a nice, honourable person. Harry knew he was too far gone for that.
Nice people don't break arms in revenge. Nice people don't curse a whole orphanage to be tormented with nightmares. And they certainly don't manipulate a second year student into a future loyal spy.
Harry's face contorted when that last thought struck him. Loyal? Spy? What was he planning exactly, a war? He really didn't know what he would do in the future, and neither why he wanted to gain influence in the other Hogwarts houses. In normal circumstances he would never even associate with Tonks or Granger, acting as a good person that wanted to help them; he would just tell Snape or Dumbledore and be done with it.
Harry knew that if he had really made the effort half of Slytherin house would be grovelling at his feet. He supposed that his restraint was actually an act of mercy on his part.
His life was a bit messed up, he knew. But as of right now it didn't matter, he had one thing to focus on right now; the death of Gilderoy Lockhart.
He didn't really know how much it would change him, if at all... But one thing was for sure: if the professor was indeed what Granger first proposed, he deserved to die. And Harry felt quite secure that he was the one to seal that man's fate.
—/—
Cassiopeia was walking in circles outside the door to the DADA classroom. Harry had gone in about ten minutes ago and she had begged him with anguish to be careful while he was in there, to which he had responded with a casual "nothing will happen". It was the tenth time she'd heard him say that today. Tonks sat on the floor near her, her hair a deep shade of blue even before they had all met up outside the classroom. She had similarly wished Harry luck before he'd entered, and now the two waited in silence for whatever should occur.
Cassiopeia heard the door open and she and Tonks sprang to attention. They watched as Harry got out of the DADA classroom, and he looked deeply troubled. He was pale, fidgeting, and seemed rather… elsewhere.
Something had gone wrong.
Harry reached out for both of them, panting heavily. He seemed catatonic for a brief moment as they held him by his forearms, and then he began to retch.
"Harry!" Cassiopeia shouted.
Her friend was very, very out of himself. He retched again, prompting Tonks to cast a scourgify.
"I can't…" Harry cried "I can't believe what I did. I can't…"
"Please go and get Professor Snape," Cassiopeia asked Tonks with pleading eyes. The Hufflepuff nodded and ran for the dungeons.
"Harry, please tell me what happened!"
"It was so hard... Oh Merlin. It can't be healthy to do something like that!"
"WHAT DID YOU DO, HARRY?" Lestrange shouted and slapped Harry because he was very incoherent, though not too hard.
And then Harry began to cry. That didn't bode well, not at all. Whatever happened with Lockhart wasn't good. At least Harry hadn't been obliviated.
"Harry, you need to tell me what happened," the girl softened her voice and pulled Harry into a hug, softly caressing his hair.
"I-I... Cass, it was so hard to pretend, to fake emotions. How can someone do that?"
The girl frowned. What in Salazar's name was Harry talking about?
She just stayed there, embracing her friend and trying to comfort him until Tonks returned, with Professor Snape in tow.
"What happened, Miss Lestrange?" Snape asked with his cold and distant voice. Cassiopeia felt that Harry calmed a bit in that moment with their head of house present.
"I was waiting for Harry to get out of his detention, and then I met Tonks. I decided to talk with her since Harry hadn't come out yet. But when he did he was like this, sir," she replied, praying that Tonks hadn't accidentally told Snape what they planned.
"I see," he then reached his pockets and pulled out a vial. Calming draught, Lestrange guessed.
"Here, Mr. Potter, drink it."
Harry took the potion and drank it in one gulp. A minute later the effects appeared, and Harry was breathing calmly again and seeming more like himself.
"Now, Potter, tell me what happened."
"Lockhart... He... He tried to..." Harry stuttered, in spite of the calming draught he was still distraught.
Snape raised his hand to signal for Harry to stop speaking. "Perhaps, I should just see for myself. With your permission, Mr. Potter."
Harry breathed a little harder, and reluctantly nodded. With a wave of his wand, Snape muttered a Legilimens and entered Harry's mind.
Harry tried his best to push only the last few moments of what occurred in the DADA classroom to the front of his mind. He didn't want his head of house to see the numerous events leading up to this carefully-planned-out day, and he hoped he was successful.
Having seen all he needed to see, Snape stopped the Legilimens and exited Harry's mind. Snape looked haunted. And angry. He quickly conjured a Patronus and sent it for Dumbledore. Cassiopeia was still hugging Harry. She didn't know if that was an act... But could Harry fake all of that so masterfully? The vomit? The crying?
"Potter, we are going to see the Headmaster and you are going to tell us exactly what happened," Snape said and Harry only nodded, looking calmer but uncomfortable all the same. "Thank you for informing me of this. You may go to your dorms, it is nearly curfew," Snape said to both girls, who very reluctantly turned away and went to their dorms. "Come, Potter," the professor said and began to walk, not bothering to wait. Harry followed his head of house close behind.
—/—
Lucius Malfoy had just apparated to the place the Dark Mark had summoned him to, once again wearing the cloak and mask of a Death Eater. The uniform, made to look sleek as well as refined, still fit him perfectly as it did almost a decade ago.
The second he'd gained awareness for his surroundings, he was met with the agonising sensation of the Cruciatus Curse. For most victims the curse gave the sensation of a thousand knives, but when used by one as powerful as the Dark Lord himself, this curse was the stuff of legend.
Some minutes after the Dark Lord's disciplinary action was done, he glanced around and saw his Lord; now looking no older than he did in his forties, accompanied by another Death Eater, also cloaked and masked. The Dark Lord had a feral gleam in his crimson eyes, and Lucius had a feeling he was prepared to use the curse on him again at a moments notice. He scrambled to move from his position on the floor to a kneeling position at his master's feet.
"Lucius, you took longer to get here than I expected." hissed the voice of the Dark Lord. "Are you aware that I am not pleased with you, Lucius? She told me something very interesting about you. About your... lack of responsibility."
"My Lord, I-"
"Silence!" Voldemort seethed, echoed by the threatening hiss from Nagini who was no doubt somewhere in the room; Lucius didn't dare to look. "The only reason I summoned you here was to remind you that I expect better from you, Lucius. There will be other meetings soon, in which more of your fellows will be present. And you shall be properly punished as I see fit."
The second his master was done speaking, Lucius heard a loud hiss erupt in his ear; he jumped when he realised Nagini had slithered to his side and placed her fanged jaw right beside his head. She looked at him hungrily with her mouth still open before his terrified form. She then slithered her way to her master's side, opposite the masked Death Eater beside Voldemort.
"Now, Lucius;" The Dark Lord began, bringing Lucius' attention back to him. "Tell me what has happened in the Ministry during my absence..."
In the conversation that followed, Lucius did his best to recollect all the important events that had occurred in the past few years, careful not to leave out any details, and mindful of not filling his master's head with any pointless drivel that would ultimately be useless for his exploits. Fortunately for him, the Dark Lord had not asked him about the diary, and Lucius had to admit to himself he was terrified of what the Dark Lord would do when he learned that it was now inside Hogwarts, and in the hands of a student.
He wasn't looking forward to the next summons.
—/—
Harry had just finished telling Dumbledore his version of the events. He told him about the detention and how Lockhart had offered to teach him a new spell - and gave the briefest of explanations as to what happened next.
"We must now collect the memories to present as evidence. Severus, please extract Mr. Potter's memories, while I extract Gilderoy's," Dumbledore instructed. Snape seemed ready to protest before Dumbledore stopped him, "We both know what will happen if you see what happened through the eyes of Lockhart, don't we Severus?"
Snape glared at Dumbledore, but nodded his agreement anyway.
He got up, briskly told Harry to follow him and walked with hard steps towards the dungeons. Mid-way, Harry realized that something was wrong, very wrong.
"Enter," Snape said when they reached his office.
As soon as the door was closed the teacher waved his wand, locking the door and putting powerful silencing charms on it. He turned to Harry, looking very furious.
"Do you have any idea of what you've done?" he snarled "Do you know the danger you put yourself in? What are you? An impulsive, arrogant Gryffindor? You and your three little friends should have gone to a teacher with your suspicions!"
Damn. Harry thought. Snape had seen their plans when he'd cast the Legilimens earlier; he'd seen a memory of Harry brewing the Mortem Pro Iustitia, writing to Kreacher, blackmailing Granger to get her hands on a hair of Dean Thomas. And, of course, the events that occurred with Lockhart. Harry thought he had occluded those other memories in favour of the ones he'd wanted his head of house to see, but it seems Harry wasn't as adept as he thought. Clearly he was a bit out of practice. And he was silent in the face of the professor's rage.
"And do you have any idea how much damage you might have caused to yourself using Occlumency to disguise your emotions like that?"
Harry averted his gaze with the question laid on him.
When he didn't reply, Snape spoke with feral intensity, "Answer. The. Question."
Harry gulped and looked at his hands. He had only ever heard his head of house use that tone of voice on Weasley and Longbottom; he felt an unfamiliar cold chill run up his spine when Snape used it on him instead. "No, sir." he meekly answered.
"I thought so." Snape scoffed, less angry than he was a moment ago but still angry nonetheless. "Now… I will extract only the memory that is convenient for us to show."
Snape performed the process to extract Harry's memory. And in spite of what he'd said, Harry was worried that Snape would reveal the truth about him and the potion.
"And I will not expose you, Potter, or your intentions. I might be angry because of your foolish plan and actions, but I do not think that… creature should be left alive." Snape admitted.
Harry internally breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."
"But your mother will be hearing about this, Mr. Potter. Of that you can be sure."
Harry lowered his head and nodded. That was fair.
"You may go now." Snape nodded as he removed the locking charms he'd placed on the door earlier.
Harry turned and opened the door to leave, but just when he stepped through the doorframe he heard Snape issue him two weeks of detention, and he rolled his eyes as he shut the door.
—/—
When Harry entered the Slytherin common room he wasn't too surprised to see Cassiopeia suddenly appear, taking off his invisibility cloak. "Harry?" she called his name.
"Hi, Cass."
"Was that an act?" she asked, looking worried.
Harry exhaled through his nose. He wasn't sure it had been or not. Harry knew that he wanted Cassiopeia and Tonks to have genuine reactions for the way he was acting, but the way he'd accomplished his task left him feeling disturbed too.
Now that he thought more about it, Snape's words made a lot of sense. The Slytherin Professor used Occlumency to conceal his true emotions, and to fake ones, for a long time. Harry used that method when he was alone with Lockhart, and the after-effects were leaving him shaken up.
It made sense to Harry that Snape probably did the same; being a spy, having to pretend regret, remorse, guilt. And, hardest of all, to fake liking Dumbledore, agreeing with his ideals and decisions. And look at what that did to Snape's behaviour. He was all in all not a nice person.
Unless that was an act too?
Harry shook his head, both mentally and physically. How the Professor handled his Occlumency was his own business. Harry had used it once in this method and it had left a scar he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to shake.
He wasn't sure what his mother's reaction would be, Snape had promised to inform her after all. But he hoped she would understand. She had been a Gryffindor when she went to school here, so if she were the one in this situation she might have done the same, right?
Now I'm just looking for excuses. Harry thought. Isn't it funny, how I'm more concerned about the fact that I had to fake emotions than I am about the fact I've just doomed someone to die?
"Harry? HARRY?" he shook his head, clearing his thoughts and saw Cassiopeia staring at him.
"It wasn't all an act, Cass. I did something bad, I..." he sighed and trudged his way to one of the couches. "I had to play along with Lockhart to make sure I had a memory that incriminated him. And… to..."
"To?" Cassiopeia asked, joining him on the couch.
Harry looked at her, gazing directly into her eyes as he spoke again. "To kill him."
Lestrange fell silent, her eyes blinking as she sat up a bit straighter.
"I made him drink a potion that will kill him in a month, in a horrible, painful way." Harry finished.
She turned her head away, probably lost in thought as she thought about what Harry had just said. Harry feared at first that she would shun him. That Harry went too far and that she wouldn't be his friend anymore, now that he had blood on his hands.
Instead, Harry saw a smile creep onto her small lips and she looked at him again. "Well done, my snake," she said.
Harry have a small sigh of relief. He should've known Cass wouldn't despise him for this. He instead felt reassured that their friendship was stronger than this, that she was proud he'd given Lockhart what he deserves.
Which was only a small comfort preceding the five-minute-long tongue-lashing Harry received for putting himself in so much danger.
—/—
In the great city of London, the tower of Big Ben chimed the eleventh hour of the night for all the city to hear. But on this particular night, it also triggered a phenomenon. A phenomenon which was occurring across various places throughout the world, none more prominent than great Britain.
A numerous amount wizards and witches felt a burning sensation on their left forearm. It wasn't a summons as it was for one of their league earlier in the day, but a warning, an assurance, a guarantee; The Dark Lord Voldemort was rising again.
Inside Azkaban, the aurors that guarded the cells heard several screams, but not the screams of pain or discomfort as they were accustomed to. They were screams of joy, of relief, and of promise.
One particular woman laughed like she had won what the muggles called the lottery, screaming 'I told you!' to all who could hear her like it was a mantra.
One particular man tried several times to ascertain that it wasn't a dream. That soon he would be free, or at least freer in some capacity, and that he would see his wife and son again.
In the maddened minds that occupied those cells, their dreams of freedom, power, domination, and longing began to be expected again.