Chapter 18 : To pick a Lock, to break a Heart
AN: Quick note about the timeline: after checking some school year timelines, I realised that the length of Hogwarts years are pretty whack. Although all years start on September 1st, some summer holidays start in July (GoF), most mid-June and one even on the first of June (HBP). For reference about the current dates: In Harrys first canon year, summer holidays started on the 20th of June and Harry, Ron and Hermione went down the trapdoor on the 4th of June. This is moved a few days back till after the exams now, the day before the end-of-year feast.
Also, to clear up any confusion: this chapter is set one day after Ron got petrified, not the same evening.
''It came for you,'' Severus claims, pacing up and down his living quarters as Harry and Hermione are both sat at the table.
''You don't know that.''
''Don't I?'' The tone is as unbending as the man's spine. ''The Minister for Magic visits Hogwarts to ensure you are safe and a week later, someone is petrified right next to your bed? This is no coincidence and you shouldn't be so quick to brush it off. Have you truly been blinded by Lockhart's words of invincible fame that you were so reckless as to leave the castle after that incident? You think your safety is a funny matter?''
''No, I-''
Furiously, Severus gets up in his face, threateningly leaning over the table. ''The only reason I did not confiscate your invisibility cloak was because I believed you would use it responsibly! And what do you do? Sneak off to the grounds! Harrison, has all sense left you?''
''Someone has to feed Fang. He can't hunt for shit.''
''Language!''
''No-one else was taking care of Hagrid's dog! You weren't.''
Fingers that are stained blue from some powder or root slam on the wooden surface in frustration, but when Severus retreats, he only pinches the bridge of his hooked nose. ''I thought both of you were sensible enough to heed rules set for everyone's protection. If you wanted the dog fed, you needed only have gone to a teacher. To me.''
''Hagrid asked me.'' Which is only true on a technicality. Hagrid had asked him that very thing; that it was a request of roughly three decades ago doesn't change much in Harry's view. He has been careless, so the same responsibility to look after Hagrid's belongings falls upon him.
''In that case, Cornelius Fudge may have been right in his claim that Hagrid endangers students,'' Severus snarls back. ''I'm taking fifty points from Gryffindor. From each of you.''
Harry can't care less about the House Cup now – with everything going on, he also doubts many of his peers do - although Hermione gasps for both of them. She's not lost a single point this year.
''Will Hagrid be released now?'' He is impatient to brush this whole parent-child discipline spiel aside. Ron being petrified was unfortunate, but hopefully it at the very least serves to prove the Groundskeeper's innocence. It will technically help Ron as well, who will likely be allowed to move onto second year without having to take a single exam. Last evening, the boy had loudly been lamenting in the common room about the very first exam being Potions.
Severus does not reply immediately, face clouding over. ''I am certain, Fudge would lose too much face otherwise. However, this is no cause for celebration. Not when he's caught a bigger fish instead. You must have noticed the Headmaster's empty chair during dinner?''
Of course he'd taken note of it, but Harry hadn't dared hope this to mean the man had been removed already. Dumbledore might as well have been busy dealing with soothing ruffled feathers after a Pure-blood (blood-traitor or not, the public would have a field day) had been attacked.
''Professor,'' Hermione whispers, convincingly hesitant. ''Does this mean the Headmaster… Has the Ministry-''
''He has been taken in for… questioning. In a more comfortable environment than Hagrid, I'm sure, but I doubt this is dealt with any faster. Until the culprit is caught…'' Thin shoulders sag as Severus shows a moment of vulnerability. Desperation washes over his face like a shadow. Harry does feel guilt now, looking at his godfather who has no idea what the future will hold for the children he tries his very best to shield. ''If the culprit isn't caught before the end of the year, I can't say what will become of the school with the Headmaster gone and a monster on the loose.''
''But there's antidotes,'' Harry reassures. ''Professor Sprout and you are working on that, right? Aren't those almost ready?''
''A temporary solution. Who would return to the castle after summer if there were still a constant looming threat of being petrified around the corner? This is not a Quidditch injury that's easily fixed. We don't even know the source.'' Then, Severus jerks his head up. ''I am only adding to the problem,'' he grounds out, clearly realising he shouldn't be sharing this with two eleven-year-olds. ''Starting tomorrow, the Heads of Houses will comb the castle once again. And for that purpose, Harrison, you will hand me both your cloak and your map without protest. You can earn them back by not moving from places where you are supposed to be until the end of the year.''
An unexpected setback, an entirely unjust price for the crime of feeding a dog.
Protesting will be useless. Severus does not dole out punishment often. When he does, it is when he's utterly convinced of being in the right and no amount of pleading or bargaining will make the man budge.
''I'll go get them,'' Harry thus concedes through gritted teeth, avoiding Hermione's startled look. The items are mere boons, he is not dependent on them. He has shadow magic and illusions for invisibility and detection spells for noticing people approach. It is more of a hassle that Severus will be able to track his movements now than Harry not being able to track anyone else's.
Back in the dorms, he retrieves his disobedient pet from where she's slithered underneath his pillow to hide. ~We will need to separate for a bit,~ he tells her. He tries to put as much regret in his tone as he feels but alas, Parseltongue is not well-suited for such emotions.
~I want to stay! I'll be good, won't look at anything!~
Sighing, Harry picks her up and strokes dark green scales to calm her down. ~Not to punish you. I need to give my drawing of the castle to one of my family,~ he explains. ~He is aware of how to use it and I know not of the spells that can conceal you from it. It'll be suspicious if he sees your name near mine for weeks. I'll bring you to our secret room and pick you up when it is safe.~ It will make feeding difficult, but he does not dare release her on the grounds, where harm might befall a tiny serpent such as she.
''You cannot leave the common room alone at this hour,'' Percy thunders, jumping up from his chair when Harry and Hermione head for the portrait hole.
''Professor Snape wanted me to fetch several items,'' Harry surly replies.
''In that case, 'I'll come along,'' the nosy Prefect announces. ''A trip to the dungeons and back is not safe.''
Highly inconvenient. Sadly, traversing the castle alone does break the current rules and Harry had thoughtlessly thanked the House-Elf Severus sent to watch them in his stead as the simmering potion he'd been working on would have explosive consequences if left unattended any longer. The House-elf had squeaked and popped away, taking Harry's good manners for a sign of dismissal. He's grown too used to Kreacher. A shame that he cannot call for Kreacher right now, the Elf is only bound to Sirius.
Thankfully, the Polyjuice potion Hermione and he have been brewing was finished earlier today, the vials secure in his friend's school bag after she'd picked them up, for Harry does not wish Severus to get strange ideas when spotting him and Hermione on the Marauder's map, spending extended amounts of time in a broom closet near the library.
''Fine,'' he shrugs. Getting rid of Percy will be easier in the dark corridors than arguing here. ''The first thing I need is in the Owlery,'' he states once having exited Gryffindor Tower.
''The Owlery? What do you need to fetch there?''
Not feeling up for spinning elaborate lies or another manipulation attempt, Harry merely urges the Prefect to keep up as he hurries along, Hermione at his heels as always, more incentive for Percy to take hurried strides not to get left behind. Harry activates the map halfway to check whether there are any Professors patrolling. It does not look like it – the teachers themselves do not wish to be caught out alone either, he supposes. Not even Filch is on the move, pacing his office.
The corridor leading up to the Owlery is blessedly devoid of portraits as the chattering disturbs the animals too much – according to Hogwarts, a History, which Hermione oftentimes likes to read out aloud to him. Although the part about needing to go into this particular tower wasn't a lie, it's a highly convenient spot for an ambush as well.
Hermione and he make the perfect team, the girl distracting Percy while Harry covertly points his wand at the Prefect's back. It takes four tries before he pulls off a nonverbal Imperius curse and he feels a tad lightheaded after, but it succeeded and that is what counts. ''You'll take care of the owls until we get back,'' Harry orders, pushing the boy inside. No-one else will visit the Owlery tonight, that is for certain.
''What spell is that?'' Hermione whispers in awe as Percy stiffly strides over to the cabinets with cleaning and preening tools.
''None that I'll openly admit to ever casting,'' he grimly replies. ''I'll have to wipe his memory when we get back, I can't have him announcing to the teachers that I ensnared his mind.''
''Will you teach me?''
''One day,'' he promises, always having a weak spot for her thirst of learning magic. Hermione is both a power well and a sponge, two of the best attributes a teacher could hope for in a student. He'll have to be careful Voldemort doesn't snatch her away. Hermione is his apprentice. In a twisted way, Harry supposes he must be glad that his Intended is likely to underestimate the girl for her blood. ''You'll need training in other branches first,'' he placates her when Hermione puts on her thundercloud face. ''This is a spell many adults will never be able to cast. A solid foundation in mind magic is preferable.''
''Fine,'' she huffs. ''So, why are we here? Only to get rid of him?''
In answer, Harry walks to the food storages usually meant for the owls in winter when prey in the snowy mountains becomes too scarce for hundreds of them to share, taking out four of the magically preserved mice. ''Hera will need one a week, and while I must hopefully not leave her in the Room of Requirement for more than two, I might have to until the end of the year if Severus really keeps a hold of my map for that long.''
Hera is not happy about being left behind, even with several mice that will keep her fed for the next month. Before today, Harry never imagined a snake could imitate wailing, a series of long hisses whining desperately in his ears.
He feels horrible over having to lock her up, but only two spots within Hogwarts don't show up on the map, and he does not wish her to accidentally come face to face with her much older and deadlier cousin in case the Basilisk wakes from her noises and has the time to investigate. Harry never figured out exactly how the basilisk was awoken from its slumbering other than 'by using Parseltongue'.
~I'll visit when I can,~ he promises. ~You'll get some fresh air as soon as all exams are over too.~ Though 'fresh' is debatable, when he only plans to bring her out to fulfil his plans in a corridor far beneath the castle.
Now Dumbledore has been arrested, Harry only needs to keep the teachers on their toes for a bit until moving in for the staged kill. With examinators visiting Hogwarts for the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s during the next two weeks, he prefers to wait until those nosy people are gone.
Unwilling to face Severus again after the reprimands of today – he's not looking forward to another tirade if the man sees they've returned without a chaperone - Harry is a tad petty and breaks into the office instead of knocking on the door to Severus' private quarters, leaving the invisibility cloak and blank marauder's map in a pile on the tall desk.
''Can't you enchant the map so he won't be able to read it?'' Hermione asks on the way back. ''You know so many illusory spells…''
''Not without risk of interfering in the existing charms on it. The Marauder's map is one of the most complicated enchanted objects I've ever come across. I'm still astonished by how they pulled it off. I wouldn't wish to compromise this spellwork. Attempts to mess with the password or forcibly conceal the map itself might unravel the entire thing. My strength lies in offensive and defensive magic. Utility charms were never my favourites.''
''How did you ever survive in the wilderness?''
''That was all you,'' Harry admits with a sheepish smile. ''I'd have died from starvation and a broken back without your foraging spells and bottomless bag. Well, of course I learned a few of those charms later in life, but I can't say I was good at them.''
''You're good at some,'' Hermione observes when Harry meticulously modifies Percy's memory.
''I classify it as defensive magic. Memory wiping is dead useful in battle. If your opponent forgets the reason why they attacked you in the first place, you can usually get a curse or two in before they find a new reason.''
''Remind me to never duel you in earnest. You're scary.''
That's rich, coming from the one who'd demonstrated a full body bind to a shocked Harry and Ron before the end of his real first year at Hogwarts, he silently thinks. He doesn't get the chance to voice that thought, for Percy slowly comes to his senses and ushers them back towards Gryffindor tower, fully convinced they all just returned from the dungeons. For good measure, Harry had sent a mild stinging hex towards the boy's feet right before the memory wipe, to make the soles hurt like his own did after running up and down so many flights of stairs. Such details are important when covering tracks, coming only second to being informed.
To cover all fronts, that latter realisation draws him towards the library the next day under guise of studying for the exams. Quirrell has no reason to avoid him here, where Harry can perfectly well walk up to the librarian's desk without a whiff of suspicion about his intentions.
''Sir?'' he politely asks, mildly amused when Quirrell purses his lips and stutters out a ''P-Potter?''
For good measure, Harry holds up his charms textbook. ''Sir, I'm trying to study for my charms exam, but some of the spells in here are not described in as great of a detail as I would like. We covered both the fire-making charm and the ice jinx, and I can't grasp the exact distinction that makes these standard charms when other elemental magic is covered in transfiguration or Defence. I'm afraid exactly such knowledge will be tested. Could you recommend any particular book about charms classification?''
''M-Most would be in t-the restricted section, Mr P-P-Potter,'' he replies with a nervous laugh and wringing of his hands. ''As these b-b-books also cover many d-dark charms. Ah, b-but one in the 'Ancient m-magic' section comes to m-mind.''
With the Ancient magic section being a dusty shelf in the furthest corner of the library, wedged between other fields that were relatively unstudied at Hogwarts such as Astrotheology and Rumpology, Harry was glad the hint of needing a private conversation had come across. Minutes later, they are cocooned in a thick layer of privacy wards spun between the narrow bookcases.
Quirrel's back straightens as he suspiciously looks down at Harry. ''So, what is this about? I thought I had been clear about wishing to maintain low contact ever since you caught the Minister's eye.''
''I would consider helping a student in your library 'low contact' enough. I'm here for a multitude of reasons. First of all, I wish to inform you that as of yesterday night, Severus is in possession of a magical map that keeps track of the position of anyone within Hogwarts. I thus recommend not to wander in odd places for the moment.''
Quirrell looks none too happy about this development but says: ''I'm taking my order of being inconspicuous very seriously, Mr Potter. I've not been in any places that would be odd for my job.''
''Excellent. Secondly, the culmination of my plotting will take place on the seventh of June. As I figure you won't have many visitors in the library on the Sunday after exams, I have a task for you: keep Severus from using that map for the entirety of the day. He cannot keep track of my movements.''
''You want me to distract your godfather for a whole day? On the same day the teachers will be on high alert due to a supposed kidnapping to the Chamber of Secrets? We're barely acquaintances. Severus will brush me aside.''
''You've proven to be resourceful, I expect you to use that skill to the fullest. As long as no harm befalls him, I don't care how you do it. Get him out of the castle, knock him out, prattle on about potions all day, as long as he gets not a single chance to glance at the map after breakfast.''
''Potter, this is a farce of a plan. Not even a plan, it's preposterous to think that I-''
Harry hisses, fed up with the excuses. ''I have asked nothing of you this year but a listening ear. You vowed to help. Your Lord ordered you to help me wherever I needed. Too much is at stake today for arguments. I won't require this of you often, Quirrell, but you will obey me without question until the moment the Philosopher's Stone and the last Hallow are in my grasp. Understood?''
The man's heated expression relaxes, stern eyes taking Harry in. It reminds strongly of the reserved attitude Quirrell showed when going through the motions of the resurrection ritual. In front of Harry stands not a friend today, but a follower. They both recognise this.
''As you will, master.''
The tension Harry felt since Fudge's visit to the castle only builds up further over the next days. For the fifth- and seventh-years, exams have started without the Headmaster present to speak some encouraging or nonsensical words of motivation. Instead, Hogwarts welcomes more guests than usual, the examinators for the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s accompanied by a delegation of Aurors who don't seem very happy to be here before the monster has been caught either. It's a mild disappointment that Sirius is not among them.
The Aurors look to Lockhart more than to McGonagall, which leaves the Defence Professor frazzled now both his claim of the culprit having been caught when Hagrid was taken in turned out to be incorrect and his apparent 'protection spells' failed. The students whose admiration he craved are turning away from Lockhart whereas the Ministry is putting more and more pressure on the fraud to reveal the cards Harry had claimed the man to hold. At times, it looks like Lockhart will break on his own before Harry has a chance to.
It is a delicate situation, fear of the elusive monster and exam stress leading to the hospital wing overflowing with more students than Madam Pomfrey can handle at times. Harry himself uses the excuse of studying for his own exams that start a week later, to not get caught up in any arguments, be it with Severus or his peers. Even when one day, white smoke drifts from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, he does not venture outside to console the Groundskeeper after the harrowing stay in Azkaban, as getting caught doing anything but reading and attending class will draw too much unwanted attention.
In truth, he spends most of those hours in class and the library planning his exact route and timing on the big day, which inevitably includes a trip to Wizarding London now, tricky while having the Trace on him. He has an easy way of transportation, but circumventing locked doors and not being seen taking the Elder wand without his cloak and being unable to cast spells anywhere but in the depths of the Ministry itself will be challenging. He'll have to rely on the few potions he and Hermione prepared in secret when the Room of Requirement had still been freely available. Thank Merlin he saved the Polyjuice from being ruined mid-brew. Quite a few batches of other potions had gone to waste.
On the evening of the fifth of June, when the last exam has been written, the examinators clear out of the castle and McGonagall proudly announces that the petrified students will awake soon as the Mandrakes are ready for cutting, Harry almost feels bad for being about to utterly ruin the mood once more. That feeling deepens when the petrification victims return to the Great Hall during dinner the next day, the first reason anyone has had for a party – even if it's a small, subdued one under the watchful eyes of concerned teachers and the still-present Aurors.
Lockhart, who's uncharacteristically avoided the public eye, makes a desperate attempt at a publicity comeback by convincing the Heads of Houses to let the students have some fun outside, enjoying the beautiful weather near the lake with an elaborate picknick and a spontaneous re-enactment of the man's own 'adventures'. After failing to rope Harry into participating a second time (and the first time was only because Fred Weasley abruptly raised Harry's hand into the air at the question of who wanted to volunteer), Ron becomes the star of the show, gladly taking up the mantle of every major role Lockhart puts him in.
Harry considers asking what in Merlin's name the boy had been doing near Harry's bed in the fateful night Ron got petrified, but he does not get a chance to pull the other aside unnoticed. Ron won't shut up about having heard hissing however, which, considering that Slytherin's monster is actually a Basilisk, won't necessarily put more suspicion on Harry. Although it'll take some painful mental gymnastics to explain how a Basilisk reached the top of Gryffindor tower. Slithered up the outer wall and stared through the window, maybe? It would be large enough for sure to have done so.
''I feel pretty bad,'' Hermione whispers to him as she takes small bites out of a pumpkin pasty. ''Everything's so peaceful again. Hagrid is back, there's even rumours about the threat having passed and Professor Dumbledore being allowed to return for the end-of-year feast on Monday.''
''The origin of the rumours?'' he asks, at which she shakes her head. He does not bother with whispering as the crowd roars excitedly, Ron-as-Lockhart having managed to overwhelm Malfoy-as-a-Vampire and using the excuse of the script making him pull Draco's fangs to punch him across the mouth.
''Unsure, but with Aurors speaking to students, there is a higher chance of there being truth to it. Neither they nor the teachers were successful in locating the threat so far.''
''Maybe, but it'd make little sense for Fudge to let him go. There's been no attack since the Headmaster was arrested.''
''For supposed obstruction of the investigation and to take responsibility for the still uncaught culprit, not because they think he is behind the Petrifications,'' Hermione reminded.
Clapping when a beaming Ron takes bows and a ranting Malfoy stomps away, Harry leans closer to her to say: ''Well, it's a moot point anyways, Monday is one day too late. Don't feel too bad Mione. This'll all be over soon. You ready to play the victim?''
''As ready as I'll ever be.''
Potions cannot save the next
Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever
Will the monster-hunter come to weep?
The ominous words don't dry on the wall for long until McGonagall's amplified voice echoes through the castle. Trusting in the teachers ganging up on Lockhart on their own, Harry follows the instructions to return to the common rooms to not be reported missing as well. Soon enough, his Head of House and Severus enter to inform their students of the grave situation: Hermione Granger having been taken to the monster's lair, signalling the end of Hogwarts. The Hogwarts express is already on its way to take everyone home the following morning.
''I'm so sorry it came to this, Harrison,'' Severus whispers, foregoing his usual public stoicism to pull Harry into a tight hug. ''I know how much she meant to you.''
''Means. She's not gone until there's proof, right? Will Lockhart try to save her?''
His godfather grimaces, pulling away, only holding Harry by the shoulders still. ''I do not know where your sudden faith in that man came from. The rest of the staff and I have sent him off to take care of it, yet it's questionable whether he has a single clue of where to start or the courage to face anything more threatening than a mirror. The Aurors are combing the castle once more, however, and Quirinus mentioned to me that he found something in an old book about Hogwarts' earliest days that he wishes to show me. It's not much, but… I will grasp onto any possibility to turn the tables. Harrison… keep in mind that one always, always, has to be prepared for the worst.''
When the teachers leave the students to their own devices, Harry receives many more sympathetic words, and one apology he hasn't seen coming.
''I'm sorry too,'' Ron mumbles, ears flaming red. ''I thought… I actually thought you might be behind all this.''
''Me?''
''Well… you're the son of the Head of Slytherin House and helped Slytherins with their schoolwork on multiple occasions in the library,'' Ron defends. ''Didn't help that you always disappear at odd hours and know really advanced magic. But- but I know you'd never hurt Granger. You can't fake friendship like that.'' A symphony of envious notes snuck into that one sentence. Before Harry's heart can crack for not trying harder to include Ron, the boy questions: ''What are you going to do? Do you have a plan? You don't really think Lockhart can save her, right?''
''Don't you? Thought he was your new favourite teacher after yesterday.''
Ron scoffs, face breaking into a grin that he badly tries to cover up, maybe due to the solemnity of the entire situation. ''Nah, just wanted an excuse to one-up Malfoy, been getting sick and tired of his bullying. Worked, didn't it? Better than intended, I even got in a punch.''
''It was a brilliant punch,'' Harry admits. ''Maybe you're right, maybe I shouldn't trust Lockhart to handle this by himself… Hermione and I did some research about the Chamber and its origins, I can at least go tell him what I know. Your brother isn't happy about anyone leaving the dorms though…''
''I'll take care of Percy if he stirs up a fuss. Least I can do. Though after today's bad news, I doubt even he will deny you of all people getting some fresh air to clear your head.''
''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The gratitude that floods his body from head to toe is the most genuine thing about this conversation. Having Ron on his side, no matter the circumstances, feels bloody wonderful. It is hard not to stomp the boy's arm or ruffle bright hair.
With the earlier confirmation of Quirrell keeping Severus busy, he feels safe leaving Gryffindor Tower.
~Hey girl,~ he hisses when collecting Hera, who is overjoyed to see him again, telling Harry all about the additional insects she'd hunted that had appeared in the Room whenever she'd thought of snacks. He secures her around his lower arm, reassuring the little snake how much he missed her company under his breath as he rushes to Lockhart's office. ~I'll tell you when we can speak again, yes?~ he gently tells her when they arrive, taking her tightening around his wrist as a confirmation.
It isn't in quite the same state as during his last lifetime, when Ron and he had stormed in on the man having practically finished packing and being on the way out. It had taken until dusk for the Defence Professor to pack every smiling portrait with the care he surely thought the precious paintings deserved. Now, Lockhart has barely started. ''Are you preparing all your weapons, Professor?'' Harry innocently inquires.
''AH! Oh- Harry, my goodness did you cause me a fright. Should you not be in the dorms?''
''I can help,'' he insists, careful not to accuse the other of fleeing yet. A confession right here in the office won't be valuable. ''Just a few days ago, Hermione discovered the likely location of the Chamber. I'm sure she got it right and that's why she got snatched!''
Awkwardly, Lockhart chuckles, leaning on his desk to hide the hastily opened drawers. ''It would be best to relay this information to the Aurors. They are- err, helping get the castle under control.''
''There's no time for the Aurors! They're not as competent as you, besides! Professor, the message was clear: Slytherin's Heir is challenging you. Hermione still lives, I can feel it; if we're quick enough this can still be stopped.''
It's obvious that Lockhart does not wish to give away he's been in the process of packing to leave now Harry rains praise on his heroism. Which means the fraud will try a different route of weaselling himself out of the danger at hand when a better opportunity strikes.
Harry doubles down, walking back to the open door. ''Imagine us taking down this threat together, professor. Your next book is just waiting to fly off the shelves!'' Lockhart perks up at this, too blinded by a flash of greed to realise how unfitting it is for Harry to appeal to sales figures and fame at a moment Hermione's fate hangs by a thread.
''I'll follow your lead, Harry,'' he states with far more confidence, a line undoubtedly spoken a dozen times when stumbling across the next unfortunate hero whose tale had not yet spread far enough to be too much of a hassle to cover up. He must already envision the way this will go down: Harry descending into the Chamber of Secrets and tragically losing his memory right after finding Hermione. In Lockhart's best-case scenario, Harry himself will never uncover how much of a liar the man, who prides reputation above everything, is.
That will be his downfall today.
Harry is prepared to deal with Myrtle in a multitude of ways, from another flirting attempt to asking her how she'd died again (which was how he'd gotten her not to raise alarm when bringing Hermione here earlier today), but the ghost is absent, perhaps to delight in the students' misery in another part of the castle. All the better to have one nosy witness less. Obliviating a ghost is terribly difficult.
''Here it is, this sink. If you stand here...'' Harry positions Lockhart so the man stands with his back to Harry. ''Perfect. Now, Expelliarmus.'' The already loose grip fails to keep hold of the wand, but before the man can turn around in surprise, Harry already moves onto the next step, hissing ~Open~. He's well-versed enough in Parseltongue not to need the added visual help of the engraved snake to speak the language – and even if he would have needed a crutch, the cool wrap of Hera's scales around his arm would have been enough.
''W-what's happening? What did you do?'' Lockhart stammers when the sink emits a bright light and sinks into the ground to reveal a gaping tunnel. Harry does not deem it worth a reply, giving a harsh shove that's followed by a confused scream so delightful that Harry pauses for a moment about his own sudden sadistic tendencies.
~Time for the show,~ he says, pulling his sleeve back to drop a kiss on Hera's snout. No biting, even if he attacks, got it?~
He counts to ten before following suit, sliding down the long, winding and slimy pipe for the second time in the span of two hours. Aren't Slytherins supposed to have style? Flair? There has to be a different entrance to this place. He vows not to visit again until finding it.
''What is the meaning of this!'' Lockhart's voice has jumped an octave or two in panic.
After checking their surroundings and seeing a tiny, blinking green light in the distant darkness, Harry puts up his best indignant child voice to accuse: ''You were packing to leave! You think I didn't notice?''
''Harry, Harry, I was only- my duties include more than Hogwarts.''
''Would you have even searched for Hermione if I'd not insisted upon it?''
''That's a moot point-''
''-Right. Right, because we're here now regardless, at the start of the monster's lair,'' he wickedly continues. ''If what I've read is correct, this should lead us right to it, where you can slay Slytherin's monster: a Basilisk. After everything you've done, this must be a regular day for you!''
''A B-Basi-'' Lockhart coughs and sputters. ''Now, now let's not be hasty… People perhaps may have exaggerated my deeds-''
''Exaggerated? You are the one who told us about your experiences.''
''My boy, you cannot expect me to solve every problem! Now return my wand, I can't see a thing.''
Lockhart should have asked for that earlier. Even if Harry had ever planned on simply handing it back, he surely wouldn't after the dodgy avoidance of a true answer. ''Lumos,'' Harry casts with Lockhart's wand. The man is still about two yards away, with outstretched arms as if he's been searching for Harry. At the sight of a bone-covered floor and monstrous shadows, he squeaks. When his gaze drifts further, to what appears to be a giant monster at first but which is in reality the shed skin of the Basilisk, Lockhart grows quiet as a mouse.
''Better?'' Harry bites. ''Now, what are you on about? Of course you can solve this problem, can't you?''
At last, Lockhart is so fed up with Harry's incessant questions that keeping up the lies appears more trouble than it is worth. Perhaps noticing they are walking on hundreds of bleached skeletons accelerated this shift in attitude. Growing red in the face, Lockhart seizes his chance and dives for the wand, harshly shoving Harry to the ground as they grapple for control. In reality, Harry lets him have it as he knows it's unlikely to win a physical fight against an adult man, ensuring instead that Lockhart does not also get Harry's holly wand in the process. When the fraud points a wand straight at Harry's face, he hides his own behind his leg, ready to fire a curse.
''This is most regrettable –'' Lockhart pants. ''You could have been great, Harry. Truly. So much potential… But you had to stick your nose where it does not belong. I suppose you earn the truth before you can no longer remember anything. Memory is really the key to great success, you should know. It's one thing I have a knack for: Memory Charms. Do you think I could have plodded through snow for a year in search for a Yeti and still have such unblemished skin? The witch who hunted the beast down was covered in sores when she told me her story. Her tale would never in a million years have sold if I had not generously offered myself up as the dapper, handsome wizard it was lacking on the cover. Not to mention that the ugly mug of that backwater wizard in Armenia who killed a werewolf and saved a village stood no chance of ever having a fan photoshoot! I did them a favour!''
''Aaaand cut!'' Hermione shouts, her voice echoing through the tunnel. ''Perfect speech, Professor. Harry, I got his entire confession on tape. These Omniaudiotors are fantastic. I'm learning to appreciate wizarding technology. With a couple of cuts and edits, we can use this recording to broadcast his wrongdoings to the world.''
Using the opportune moment of Lockhart's bewilderment, Harry casts another Expelliarmus, once again catching the wand and using it to illuminate the tunnel so it'll be easier to cast other spells with his own. ''You really are bad in all types of magic besides Memory charms, aren't you?'' he casually comments.
''How- You!-'' the man stammers, looking from Harry to Hermione.
''Confused? I'll make this easier for you to understand: I've known you were a swindler before we met. All this, from the messages on the walls to the petrifications of students were staged to corner you. It took a while, and at the start I'd not thought it would take dragging you down here to get a confession, but it does fit your own love of the theatrics, doesn't it? This is the actual Chamber of Secrets, you should know. Well, the entryway to it, if we're being specific.''
When Lockhart does not answer, Harry continues: ''You must be wondering why. Well, you are one of the few people I've met in life who uses magic solely to hurt and deceive other mages, for no other reason than your own enrichment. You've robbed actual heroes of their memories, in drastic cases of their ability to ever commit another feat of courage and magic when your charms went too far. You stopped at nothing to get what you wanted without thinking of the consequences for anyone else. And still, you were not satisfied. No, the fame of your books was not enough, you had to ruin the education of young mages to stroke your own ego, taking away a whole year in which they could have learned actual, sorely needed Defence to give tests about your favourite colour. It is detestable. Unforgiveable.''
''I will stop,'' Lockhart promises without a shred of remorse. His expression has twisted into the ugliest grimace, none of his good looks remaining. ''Give me that recording and you'll never see me again.''
Harry laughs out loud at that suggestion. ''You may think we're dumb little children, professor, but were I to give you this, nothing keeps you to that word.''
''Then publish it! See what happens! My fans are devoted enough not to care!''
''You will not take that gamble,'' he calls out Lockhart's bluff. ''You were ready to leave an innocent girl to die in the Chamber while completely wiping the minds of her brother and myself to save your reputation! You were willing to murder for it!''
''-her brother and yourself..?'' the man mutters in confusion.
Harry does not care, this version of Lockhart overlapping with the previous one in his mind, memories pulled to the surface of the fraud using every chance he got to wipe Harry's and Ron's minds clean so he could claim Ginny was dead. That the other children had gone insane at the sight of her corpse.
''I have thought long and hard on what to do with you.'' Harry prods his wand into a nervously swallowing throat. ''Whether to wipe your own memory again, or utterly ruin the little glass castle you've built up around yourself. Both would be immensely satisfying. Yet neither would be useful.''
''What- whatever you think I deserve-''
''Useful would be to command a wizard who excels in memory charms in the war that is to come. A man who is ruthless beneath his perfectly innocent mask. You can keep your fame, Lockhart. Your gold, the admiration. But when I call for you, you'll sit at my heel, in the knowledge that at any point in time, I can take it all away from you. Understand?''
A nervous chuckle falls from Lockhart's lips. ''War? Command me? You're insane.''
Without humouring the questions, Harry presses on: ''You will stay down here with Hermione until I give a signal. When you receive it, you'll cut off a piece of the Basilisk skin over there and collapse the tunnel behind you. Mione has a broomstick with which you can escape. Smile, Gilderoy, you'll be the hero who saves Hogwarts today, your last grand deed before retiring to do no more than give autographs until I call upon you!''
''I will not go along with this preposterous plan!'' Lockhart shouts, frantically side-stepping Harry's wand, although it does not help much, as following a barely moving target who is slipping on crunchy bones is not the greatest challenge Harry has ever faced.
''Yes, I figured you'd say that.'' Shrugging his sleeve back, he lets Hera coil up in the palm of his hand.
~I help now?~ she asks excitedly.
~Yes dear, it's your moment,~ he answers, crouching so she can slither onto the floor, where he casts an Engorgio on her before quickly stepping back. Her body twists as it grows, dark green scales shimmering in the combined light of two wands. Hermione gasps quietly in wonder when Hera fills more and more of the damp tunnel, until one could have mistaken the snake for an actual Basilisk. This part has entirely been Hermione's idea, who'd preached about getting the details right, including the damage a struggle with an actual Basilisk is sure to leave.
Lockhart wordlessly slides down the wall, staring at the serpent in horror.
''Meet my lovely companion, whose stare will freeze your flesh and whose fangs will freeze you blood. Such a battle-hardened adventurer as yourself will no doubt withstand a couple of bites from a beast to make your efforts to save Hermione realistic, won't you? Don't worry, the cure is nearby: Fawkes the Phoenix will surely shed some tears on the wounds of the one who saved Hogwarts. Oh, and I shouldn't need to mention that if you try anything funny, now or in the future, she'll hunt you down and swallow you whole.''
As they are imitating a Basilisk attack and Basilisk bites are deadly if not healed within seconds, Hera isn't supposed to actually sink her fangs into him, but Lockhart does not need to know that. ~He looks impressed by you, as he should. Remember, just a bit of roughhousing. And-~
~-and no speaking too loud because we don't want the other one to wake~ she dutifully completes the sentence.
''Are you the Heir of Slytherin?'' The question is but a whisper.
Harry chuckles as the words call forth an image of Voldemort's indignant expression the man would be sure to wear if anyone were to pretend to take the title from him. ''Oh no, the Heir of Slytherin is far more ruthless than I. Don't get me wrong, although it was my goal to trap you, I was very careful about whom to petrify – and only petrify. The Heir killed a student. You'll likely meet him soon enough, however. Now, I have other places to be still. 'Mione, the recording?''
She quietly hands him the Omniaudiotor and a shrunken broom. ''I'll fill him in on the other details we discussed,'' she assures.
''You're the best. If he makes trouble, any trouble at all, just pat Hera and she'll attack. If she does shrink again before I'm back and he makes trouble then, just scream and she'll inject a dose of her venom. A smaller size won't affect her ability to take down a grown man.'' He ensures to say all of it loud enough to prevent Lockhart from making any stupid moves.
''Now then. One down, two to go. Wish me luck.''
AN: Sooo, Harry had his very first villain speech :3 Perhaps he got a tad inspired by his soul mate...
Please Read and Review!
xx GeMerope
