AN: Thanks again to my wonderful Beta readers! This is a long chapter in apology for the wait. I intended to post it last week but I got my second Covid vaccine shot last week and got miserably sick for a few days and had joint aches that made it difficult to work at the computer. Thankfully the second day was really the worst and I fully recovered after about 4 days. A few days is way better than my father in law who got Covid-19 last year and had the same aches and pains but worse for 2 weeks straight and then was in the hospital for a week after that and suffered for months with side effects. So yay vaccines!
Whispers in Her Hair
by Indygodusk
Chapter 15 : Second Year - Someone Should Care
Inside Hermione's bookbag, Harry found eleven books. Eleven! No wonder it was so bulky, though somehow it didn't feel as heavy or as wide as it really should have considering the tower of books it made was up to his waist when he stood up. That was magic for you.
Harry really loved magic.
Finally he pulled out the book he needed: Obscure Magical Creatures in Caverns Deep. He flipped through it, but the language was so old it barely seemed to be in English at all. He couldn't read any of it. It reminded him of the books he'd looked at with Draco over Christmas break. This one didn't have a ton of pictures, so they might not have even bothered with it.
As he flipped through the pages another bookmark from the set he'd given Hermione fell out—the one of Godric Gryffindor. He noticed that one of the little books on the border by Gryffindor's sword hilt had a snake on the cover. When he tapped it, the little book opened and showed a copy of the words on the other bookmark: Obscure Magical Creatures in Caverns Deep by M. Vorkosh - - Harry's Bas! He'd have to check and see if it had the same or different information than the other bookmark.
Closing the book, Harry took a deep breath, placed the Slytherin bookmark on the cover of the book and tapped the bookmark right over the locket on Salazar Slytherin's chest. "Notes, please," Harry said. He really hoped this worked. Slytherin gave an approving nod and then the edges of the bookmark glowed green and it floated up into the air, flipping over to show the blank back, which was quickly filling with Hermione's familiar handwriting. The top of the bookmark note was labelled in bold: Harry's Basilisk.
Harry caught his breath and smiled. Hermione must've taken his nervously blurted question about if Basilisks were real seriously. Sweet Hermione. The real clue must be buried somewhere in her research on basilisks. Several book titles about creatures were listed with "No" written next to each of them. He scrolled past them, making words disappear off the top as new ones appeared at the bottom of the paper. When it finally mentioned Obscure Magical Creatures in Caverns Deep, she'd written and underlined the word "Yes!" followed by "page 83" and a toothy little smiley face that made Harry smile too, imagining her wiggling excitedly in place and grinning as she drew it. He slid his finger up the bookmark to make the words scroll up.
This had to be it!
Basilisk = King of Serpents
Gigantic (50 ft avg)
Lives hundreds of years
Born from a chicken egg hatched under a toad (How does that even work? Why does it make a snake and not a giant chicken with toad feet? Ask Hagrid.)
May also mate with gorgons (How would that even work with the size difference? Do I really want to know?)
—
—
There was a gap below those words and a slash of ink, under which Hermione had written in very perfect and very small letters: I got called up to play again and caught the Snitch! On purpose this time! And Harry made a flag just for me and cheered for me during the game. Does he finally want—(the next words were so scribbled out they'd become illegible, to Harry's immense frustration). Later. FOCUS.
—
—
There was another line of ink and then she'd returned to writing notes from the book about the basilisk instead of more important things like what she thought about the flag he'd made for her and what she had written about what she thought he wanted from her and whether she'd really forgiven him and wanted to be friends with him again and maybe hold hands sometime or what she thought about him personally, or even if she liked his new haircut. Harry read the lines over again several more times, but nothing new popped out. He really wished he could see what she'd scribbled over.
Frustrated, he scrolled down to see what else she'd written about basilisks and to see if there were more notes about him farther down.
—
—
Spiders flee it
Cry of rooster will kill it (only weakness?)
Venomous fangs = Death
Look in eyes = Death
Indirect loo— (The writing jerked jaggedly into a trailing line of ink that fell off the edge of the paper, as if she'd been startled mid-word.)
—
—
Harry scrolled down but there were no more notes after that cut-off word, just empty space.
While the Basilisk sounded scary and cool and all—except for the fact that he'd have to admit to Draco that he'd been right about them being real—Harry still didn't know what Hermione was trying to tell him with this. Maybe it was obvious, but he just wasn't seeing it. The Basilisk was a huge old snake that killed people with its venomous teeth or by looking at them before eating their corpses. So what? That didn't sound like it had anything to do with people, cats, and ghosts being petrified in the castle this year or with the Chamber of Secrets or Muggleborns being targeted. Nor with Hermione's state of being petrified, returning to flesh and almost waking up, and then turning to stone again with only Harry as a witness.
The notes especially didn't have anything particularly satisfying to say about what Hermione thought about Harry.
Unfortunately, that one note after the game was the only thing on the bookmark with his name. Something had to be in here, yet as Harry scrolled up and down through the notes again, reading them carefully, flipping the bookmark over and even upside down, he couldn't find anything new. The Gryffindor bookmark had the exact same notes on the basilisk, even down to the shape of the smudges, so they must be linked to share information somehow. He tried reading the notes from the other books, but they were even more useless. None of them mentioned his name at all.
There was nothing anywhere that said, "this is what might petrify me," or "this is who might attack me," not even a note for, "how to save me if I get petrified."
There also weren't more notes with Harry's name or what she'd thought about what he'd done or even (especially) anything like, "I hope Harry knows how important he is to me," or "I've always liked Harry more than anyone," or "I've totally forgiven Harry."
Rubbing hard at his aching chest with the base of his hand, Harry put the bookmark down to the side and picked up the book with the basilisk again, flipping through the book pages with it upside down and shaking it in hopes that another, better note would fall out. Nothing did. Frustrated and tired after a day of constantly jumping through hoops without much to show for it, Harry slammed a fist into the bench he sat on. It hurt his hand and opened up a scab on his forearm, stinging and releasing a hot trickle of blood down the abraded skin beneath his sleeve, which just soured his mood further.
He was tempted to kick the book bag at his feet across the hall too. He might've if it hadn't been Hermione's bag. When she woke up (not if, definitely not an if) she'd be mad if she found out he'd abused her bag like that. He lifted the bag up and put it carefully on the bench next to him to remove it from temptation.
Blowing out his breath, he picked up the bookmark, checked the page number listed, and flipped the creature book open to page 83. Maybe he'd find something in the book itself on the specific page about basilisks. He knew he was grasping at straws but there wasn't anything else to go on. The thought made him stick out his lower lip, though if anyone asked he was definitely not pouting.
Suddenly, just at the edge of his hearing, he heard something that made the hair on the back of his neck rise up. Shoving in the bookmark at page 83 without reading anything—though there might've been something written in the margins, he'd have to check again in a second—he looked around cautiously. Something hissed, something angry. The threatening sound intensified, grabbing at his hindbrain and making him curl himself small into the back corner of the bench. He slid his hand to his wand but before he could draw it the sound came closer, too close, and he found himself freezing in place, barely breathing, terrified that he'd been too slow to hide, too late as every inch of his skin prickled in warning that if whatever was making that sound saw him, it would kill him.
Then that familiar, terrifying voice of jagged metal, blood-stained teeth, and bitter cold ice spoke as if it was standing directly behind his shoulder and hissing into his ear, "No! I want her… now! No… I won't…. I want my baby queen first... Mine... MINE! Eat blood and flesh... together… kill... together… sweet baby queen. Mine. Now... won't wait...NO! Need her now...NEED. Where?"
Harry trembled as if coated in frost and huddled deeper into his robes, lungs frozen, afraid to even breathe. There was no point in chasing after the voice when it seemed like it was right next to him, filling the hall despite his rolling eyes telling him that no one was there and he was all alone. Despite his terror and the evidence of his ears there was nothing to see. The people and animals in the nearby portraits didn't seem to notice anything either, not even looking up from what they were doing. Like before, he seemed to be the only one hearing the voice.
If it was going to hurt someone he should try to warn people, but no one was here this time except for Harry and his knees were shaking too hard to hold him. Besides, it was hard to escape the conclusion that the person most likely to die or be petrified right now was himself. As always, he was going to have to keep himself safe. No one else would. With nothing to see and nothing to fight, his best option was to stay still and try to escape detection. He could go for help and look for more clues once the owner of the voice was gone. Dark spots formed behind his eyes. The need for air was becoming urgent but the voice had just barely gone silent and it might still be too close to risk moving, even for an inhale.
He was proved right when it spoke again, a little farther down the hall but still too close. "Give me... my queen…. Two!?" The voice sounded surprised but savagely excited. "Queen and not queen... take both…. Eat extra… feed her to my queen until she's... ripe for me…."
That didn't sound good at all. Nevertheless, Harry didn't dare to move anything but his eyes. No matter how he strained, he still couldn't see anyone. The speaker had to be invisible, maybe in an invisibility cloak? But then a group of three roughhousing Hufflepuffs came running through the hall shoulder to shoulder and didn't trip over anything as they passed Harry and turned the corner.
The terrifying voice became harder and harder to hear as if moving away. "Bite... rip and swallow their flesh..."
The prickling feeling disappeared and Harry once more felt like he was alone. Collapsing forward, Harry sucked in air desperately, bending over his knees with his head in his hands as he fought dizziness and shame. He was glad no one had been here to see him freeze up. Someone braver might've stood up and confronted it, made it reveal itself, but he hadn't felt very brave. He'd felt like a boy not yet thirteen, weak and powerless.
Pulling out his wand, Harry gripped it tightly, feeling the wood press hard against his flesh. He wasn't powerless. He wasn't weak. Yes, he'd been caught off guard, but he promised himself that he'd be better next time. Whoever or whatever that was, he was going to figure it out and he was going to stop it. Starting as soon as he caught his breath properly.
Lifting his head, Harry looked around but he was still alone. If he couldn't find the voice by himself, he was going to find someone who could. He ignored the little voice in his head crying out, "Who? Who could possibly help with something that sounded as awful as that?" It took two tries to push himself to his feet. Gathering up all of the books, he replaced them in the bag as he looked up and down the hall. The infirmary was closest, but Madam Pomfrey had never struck him as a particularly dangerous witch, much less one talented with anything but basic healing spells.
He wished Dumbledore was still here. The Headmaster might've actually listened and believed Harry about the voice. Then again, he might've just given Harry one of those measuring looks over the tops of his spectacles, patted him on the back, and sent him on his way with a vague platitude. Harry respected and liked Dumbledore, but he sometimes got the feeling that Dumbledore would've liked and trusted him more if he hadn't sorted into Slytherin. His friends had pointed out more than once that Dumbledore was a powerful manipulator dedicated to collecting secrets and followers, and that like all powerful men he was bad about sharing. He'd been kind to Harry and helped him out, but Harry couldn't help but wonder if that help had strings attached, strings that just hadn't been tugged on yet. It made him uncomfortable. Harry would not be anyone's puppet. Nevertheless, he still wished for the man's power to come to his defense now, no matter how foolish that wish might be.
Lockhart may be the Defense professor, but he was probably worse than useless. Any help he tried to give would just create more problems.
Snape might actually help nowadays, but that depended on if he was willing to believe that Harry really was hearing the voice and not crazy. Despite their strange new relationship, Harry's trust didn't extend that far. In fact, Snape might just order him to shut up about it so as not to give Slytherin House a reputation for insanity.
Lips thinning, Harry moved towards the main staircase, hoping to run into someone he hadn't thought of yet. He had to flatten himself to the wall when half of the Gryffindor Quidditch team came stomping past with various pranked appendages and ladybug wings fluttering from half of the bright red pimples on their faces. After what had just happened and wrestling with getting to and understanding Hermione's notes, breaking into the Gryffindor locker room felt like it had happened days ago instead of hours. Watching the disturbing fluttering on the back of both Weasley boys' necks, he realized that the instructions for that prank had totally lied about it taking at least eight hours for the ladybugs to start popping up. He'd have to remember to warn Draco against trusting that company again.
The pranked Gryffindors were followed by a small crowd of gawkers. "That is wicked gross, Fred!" Ron Weasley said, poking at his older brother's fluttering cheek with a face screwed up in both disgust and glee.
"It's itchy is what it is," Fred said, shoving Ron's hand off and scratching at his neck.
"I'd say more tickly, almost makes me want to laugh. Wonder if it's contagious?" said George, eyes twinkling as he opened his arms and smiled wide. "C'mere, Ronniekins. Give me a hug and kiss!" He grabbed his younger brother in a bear hug, trapping his arms to his sides and causing Ron to scream and kick wildly as George rubbed his fluttering pimples all over Ron's head and cheeks. Ron's skin went bright red as he shrieked even louder.
Harry didn't blame Ron. It did look rather gross.
"Oi, watch the kicking!" snapped Bell, jumping back from the Weasley brothers with hands pressed flat to her cheeks, presumably to keep the ladybug wings from moving too much.
Trying to be inconspicuous, Harry flattened himself to the wall and turned his head down and to the side until the group had passed, pressing Hermione's bag between himself and the wall so no one could see and recognize that he shouldn't have it. They moved past Harry without a hitch, talking too loudly to notice him. At least none of them were acting like they'd seen anything bad besides each other, so maybe the creature hadn't attacked anyone this time. Maybe things would be okay for once.
As if to mock his optimism, a loud alarm began to wail. Red light crackled and streaked through the halls like streamers of fire. Harry ran after them, trying to find the source. He was joined and then outpaced by several racing Professors. Their longer legs gave them an unfair advantage.
Bursting out onto the main landing for the central staircase, Harry saw a crowd staring at the wall. He couldn't see what from this angle so he moved over and up the stairs. At least there didn't seem to be any petrified people on the ground this time, just a rust-brown, green, and red lump the size of a Quaffle sitting at the base of the wall. Craning his head to see better as he moved closer, Harry noticed feathers along with a beak and scarlet waddle and realized that the limp thing was a rooster—a dead rooster considering the splatters of red were probably its blood and its head was flopped back against its back from what he now saw was a cut throat. He couldn't help but grimace. Other students jostled him on the staircase as more people pushed in from the hallways. Someone across from him screamed and pointed up.
Harry looked and finally noticed the words written on the wall in the rooster's blood: "Their skeletons will lie in the Chamber forever."
Remembering the words he'd heard the voice hiss about a "baby queen" and a "not-queen" and eating, he felt his stomach turn over queasily. Who would it be this time? Would they find more petrified bodies left behind or had someone actually been taken by the creature like the note implied?
"Whose skeletons? Who's missing?" someone cried out hysterically, echoing his thoughts.
The teachers looked at each other, faces pale and unhappy. Professor McGonagall blinked rapidly as she rubbed a hand over her mouth. She looked older than he'd ever seen her, the wrinkles on her face deep and the corners of her mouth and eyes drooping. Hand falling away to her side, she pulled in a breath. "We should probably search, not that it'll do us any good…" she spoke with a soft bitterness. Looking at the nearby Professors, she said, "Get the prefects to do a roll call. See if they know who's missing. Everyone should gather in the dorms again."
"Or maybe the great hall, since it's the weekend and the students are scattered all over the grounds?" Professor Lockhart suggested, twisting his sky blue cloak between his fingers. Two of the younger female professors nodded in agreement, hanging on his every word. Seeing it, he sent them a crooked smile. "I could entertain the students with a dramatic reading from my latest book. They'll need a distraction as I fear that those now lost in the Chamber are lost to us forever." He sighed loudly and tossed his hair out of his eyes. "I knew the headmaster should have listened to my advice about the Chamber of Secrets earlier in the year. Maybe if he had, this tragedy wouldn't have happened." Snape and McGonagall both looked like they wanted to hit Lockhart as the man buffed his knuckles down the front of his robes and gave a sorrowful smile.
"Lockhart, if you do indeed know the location of the Chamber," Snape said in a silky tone of voice that was just shy of caustic, "then we of course will bow to your expertise. In fact, you should go and search it for us now to see who was taken and then report back."
Eyes going wide, Lockhart's smile faltered and his smile went brittle. "Now? Shouldn't we secure the students first?"
A muscle at the corner of McGonagall's mouth twitched. "Indeed, Mr. Lockhart, but as soon as that's completed we'll expect you to go down into the Chamber, since you claim to know where it is. Don't bother dawdling. I'll expect you to report back to me on your findings in two hours or less."
The students at Harry's back pushed and jostled, forcing him down a step as Madam Pomfrey moved through the crowd. "Minerva! Minerva!" She sounded more panicked and emotional than Harry had ever heard her before.
McGonagall turned and strode forward. She met Pomfrey at the base of the stairs and took the mediwitch's hand, pulling her from the mass of students. "Calm down, Poppy. Take a breath and tell us what's happened." McGonagall patted her hand.
Wiping an arm across her face, Madam Pomfrey sucked in a breath of air and leaned into McGonagall's support. "I don't know how, but they're gone. Missing!" She gave a small sob. "And no one saw anything, which is impossible! I was right outside and there's no other way out!" Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks and she pressed a hand over her eyes.
"Who's gone?" McGonagall demanded curtly, releasing Pomfrey's hand.
"Miss Granger and Miss Harper. Their petrified bodies are gone!" Pomfrey said in a burst, chest heaving.
Harry felt like he'd been slammed in the face with a bludger. The edges of his vision went strangely flat. Voices in the crowd cried out, but they sounded like they were coming from underwater. Clenching his toes insides his socks, he sucked in a breath of air and forced himself to focus.
Pomfrey wrung her hands. "It's not like they could've just gotten up and walked off! Even if—well, no, we discounted that, and it still doesn't explain what happened to Miss Harper, or how they both got past me. Someone should've seen something." Pomfrey clenched her apron in her fingers. "I looked in on them this morning to dust their heads and everyone was peacefully petrified in their beds just like always, but when I opened the door to check in on everyone after the alarm sounded, both girls were gone." Pomfrey dabbed her wet eyes with her apron. One of the other teachers wrapped an arm around the mediwitch comfortingly and several students began crying loudly.
McGonagall cleared her throat and straightened her back. "Very well. First, we need to see if anyone else is missing. Since it's Saturday, we have students scattered all over the castle and grounds. Everyone must be accounted for. Then," she faltered for a moment before saying, "unless we recover our missing students, we're going to have to close the school and send everyone home for their own safety."
Harry felt like his world was falling apart. First Hermione and now Hogwarts. It was too much loss. The static in his head became too strong when he thought about what might be happening to Hermione's defenseless body right now so he switched to the still painful but not as debilitating idea of closing the school. Though he couldn't lose Hogwarts either. It was his home of choice, his life was here. And he couldn't lose his friends. Not more of them. Not any of them. He had to go and find them, had to make sure that at least the rest of them were okay.
Professor Lockhart piped up with something boasting, inane, and completely useless. Harry didn't bother listening. He didn't care what Lockhart had to say, nor about the other teachers' plans. He needed to find his friends and make sure they were safe, needed to find a way to fix this so Hermione and Halle were found safe and no one had to leave the school.
Pushing his way free of the crowd, he sprinted down the hall and took the closest staircase leading down into the dungeons and the Slytherin common room where his friends hopefully would be, jumping stairs two and three at a time. He had to cut across the atrium in front of the Great Hall to get to a better staircase. Glancing inside the doors, he saw the back of Valeria's familiar shaved head and instantly swerved, racing to join her. His heart leaped with relief as he saw most of the Quidditch team sitting at the Slytherin table snacking on the scraps leftover from the lunch he'd missed. He was even relieved to see Draco, though having the diary right now to demand more answers from would be dead useful. Blaise, Pansy, and Millie weren't there, but he had to hope they were safe somewhere else.
As soon as he burst into the room, Valeria's eyes had snapped up to track him. She stood as he approached the table. "Harry, what's happened," she demanded, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him close so she could look him up and down. "Is it the Gryffindor team?" she asked softly. Flint's eyes narrowed and he looked over Harry's shoulder suspiciously, perhaps checking for pursuit.
Huffing and puffing, it took Harry effort to get the words out. "Another… huff… attack… ha ...missing students… huff… this time." Leaning on Valeria's arm, he sucked in air and tried to get his voice to steady. "Hermione and Halle... have disappeared from the infirmary…. Could be others attacked too. Also," he gulped in air, "more bloody words on the wall... 'Their skeletons... will lie... in the Chamber forever.' McGonagall's going to close… the school." Valeria looked as sick about the idea of going home early as Harry felt.
"Something took Halle?" Flint growled, a hint of panic hiding behind the anger on his face.
Before Harry could answer, more students spilled in through the front doors, shouting the same news. A young, female Professor followed, ordering everyone to gather at their tables and for any prefects to start taking headcounts. The room filled with noisy chaos as more students streamed in, though it was still less than half of the student body. Another Professor facing the opposite direction over by the stairs was telling people to report to their common rooms.
Valeria pushed Harry down onto the bench and gave him a cup of water to drink. He guzzled half of it. When he looked up again her expression had become grimly satisfied, as if almost pleased by his bad news. Harry took another gulp of water and tried to think through the buzzing in his head. He had to save Hermione, but how?
"Why don't you look that upset?" Terence asked Valeria. "This is awful!" His face had gone bright red.
Valeria huffed. "I am upset, but the worst has happened now. People died and they're closing the school."
"No one's dead yet," Harry bit out through gritted teeth, fisting his hand beneath the table. "They're missing, not dead."
The look Valeria turned on him was full of pity. It made his gut feel tight and his eyes hot. Harry was about to start a fight over it when Terence said, "I still don't get it."
Valeria leaned towards Terence. "Look, nothing's hanging over our heads anymore. It's happened, so we just have to react to it." She popped a grape into her mouth and chewed, sliding her plate in front of Harry. He growled and shoved it away, knocking over the bowl of whole fruits in the middle of the table, sending apples and oranges rolling everywhere. He wasn't hungry. Hermione was missing! There was no way he could eat right now, though when an orange dropped into his lap he slipped it into his pocket out of habit instead of tossing it back onto the table. "Anticipation is worse than just knowing," Valeria added, batting away two apples and an orange.
Around the room, it seemed more crowded than it really was because of how many people were standing around shouting and crying instead of sitting. Others gestured furiously and started pointing fingers at Harry and his friends at the Slytherin table. The angry and scared mutterings around the room grew.
At some silent signal, several of the angriest groups of people suddenly came together and started marching over as if to attack the Slytherins they blamed for the latest trouble.
Before the rest of them could react, Flint jumped to his feet, drew his wand, and planted himself at the foot of the Slytherin table, putting himself between his house and the rest of the students in the hall. He planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and made himself as immovable as a mountain. His wand swung in his hand and black shards dripped from the tip, forming a forest of glass knives at his feet for several seconds before flickering back into oily shadows. Harry couldn't see Flint's face, but he did hear the threatening snarl that shot from him and through the room like a whip, silencing everyone for a trembling moment.
Before the sound had even faded, all of the troublemakers flinched back and scrambled to return to their seats with their tails between their legs. Valeria was practically vibrating next to Harry, wand ready to fire at the next person to approach, but it looked like she wouldn't be needed. Flint looked around the room slowly, pausing to glare at anyone he deemed as standing too close, until a ring of space surrounded the Slytherin table, the students on the nearby benches scrambling to move to the other side of their tables. The other houses kept their heads turned away as if that would hide them from Flint's wrath, hunching down in their seats or huddling against the walls. Even the female professor looked unnerved. Watching Slytherin warily, she scurried out into the atrium to join the other professor by the stairs, slamming the doors shut behind her.
Flint leaned back against the table and half-turned as if to rejoin the conversation, but he didn't put his wand away. His eyes still seethed with barely leashed violence and a hint of disappointment that he'd been forced to swallow it back down. Even knowing it wasn't pointed at him, Harry had to swallow hard and remind himself that Flint was on his side and liked him. Most of the time, anyways. Flint kept part of his attention pointed outwards, making regular threatening sweeps of the room. No one dared approach after that.
"How are you holding up?" Valeria abruptly asked Harry, shoving a grape into his mouth when he turned to speak. "Did Granger's notes tell you what's doing this? Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm not okay," he grunted after swallowing, moving his face away from her fingers. "Something took Hermione. I need to get her back but I have no idea where she is. No one does! I got her books and notes, but there's nothing really in there. I still don't know what she was trying to tell me." Harry almost choked on the next grape Valaria shoved between his lips, chewing quickly and swallowing hard as he tried to twist away.
She grabbed his face and shoved two more grapes into his mouth without mercy. "There wasn't anything in the notes that might help us?"
Harry shook his head and jerked his face away from her fingers, picking up a piece of bread on the nearest plate and shoving it in front of his mouth in defense. She arched a brow and finally backed off. Taking the smallest bite possible, Harry put the bread back down and started crumbling it into pieces on the plate to look like he was doing something so Valeria would stop force-feeding him. "Her notes just say that Basilisks are real, so Draco wasn't as big of a liar as usual—"
"Excuse you!" Draco snapped.
"—but nothing else in the notes really seems to have any answers, just descriptions of the supposed king of snakes. I was about to look at the book text itself when I heard that creepy voice again that no one else seems to hear and then the alarm went off and everyone found the new message on the wall written in rooster blood."
"Humph." Valeria grabbed the book out of the bag on Harry's shoulder and pulled out the Slytherin bookmark, reading over the notes on it first before flipping open the book itself and turning to the page on Basilisks, which was marked with the Gryffindor bookmark.
"Well?" Harry asked.
Pressing her lips tight, she huffed. "I can't read Old English. The book title is in modern English, why isn't the text?"
"Most likely the library catalogue spell modernized it." Draco leaned forward and craned his neck to see. "I think 'wyrm' means snake… that or dragon, but the rest looks like gibberish." He scowled. "Though Hermione wrote the word 'pipes' in the margins for some reason. I can read that."
"Yes, Draco, we can all read that," Valeria sneered.
"Oh who cares?" Artemis scrubbed her hands through her hair. "Is some big old snake really important right now? I know Harry can speak to snakes and is obsessed with Granger, so he might care, but it's not like the basilisk petrifies people and is the solution to what's going on here. It just kills things, right? Don't we have bigger problems? Like the attacks and the school shutting down?"
Running a finger across his chin, Flint abruptly knocked on the table. "Old English... like the epic poem Beowulf?"
"Yes, so?" Valeria arched her brow, both of them ignoring Artemis.
"Bulstrode," Flint said with a firm nod and turned back to watching the room, as if that meant anything.
Harry looked back and forth between them. "Millie?" he asked.
"Yes," Flint said, rather unhelpfully.
Draco shrugged, stood up on the bench, and waved at the end of the table, calling, "Oi, Bulstrode, get over here. Now."
Looking both belligerent and curious, Millie came stomping over, followed by Pansy and Blaise, who must've arrived through a side door while Harry was distracted. Thank goodness they were alright.
"What?" Millie demanded, crossing her arms.
"Flint thinks you can translate this," Valeria said, holding the book out demandingly.
Millie took the book and hummed under her breath. "Oh, yeah. So this page is about Basilisks, also called the king of serpents. Looks like they're extremely rare and deadly." She read for a few seconds and then repeated basically the same information from Hermione's notes, translating line by line. "Okay, so it's huge and even if you escape its venomous fangs it can kill you just by looking into your eyes. Cool. Spiders in particular flee it—though as a human I'd totally run away too. I think pretty much anything would except a rooster, who can kill it by—huh, just vocalizing or crowing. Neat." She grinned toothily.
Talk of spiders and roosters was making something at the back of Harry's mind try to bounce forward to land on the tip of his tongue, almost but not quite there. He felt like he was missing something obvious but stress and worry were making it hard to think. He was wasting his time sitting here when Hermione was in danger but he had no idea where to even start looking.
Lifting the book up to squint at the bottom of the page, Millie said, "There's a footnote that says that the author was told about an expedition that tried to capture a basilisk in the wild by using mirrors to avoid its deadly gaze, hoping it would work like with avoiding the eyes of gorgons. However, as soon as they caught sight of its eyes in the mirror they all, including the photographer behind the camera—" voice dying, her face went pale. Hyperventilating, her eyes flicked up to the top of the page and started reading down again rapidly, as if she was seeing the information again for the first time, her eyes getting bigger and bigger with each line.
"What?" Harry asked impatiently.
Abruptly Millie collapsed onto the floor, book dropping between her splayed legs as she covered her face and whimpered.
"What? What's it say?!" Multiple voices demanded. Draco snatched up the book, but after a moment he tossed it away with a growl, still unable to translate it.
Pulling away Millie's hands, Pansy crouched down and got into the other girl's face. "Stop freaking out and tell us what's going on, Millie!" She shook Millie, but the other girl didn't seem to be reacting beyond shaking her head from side to side.
"On the count of three I'm going to slap you," Valeria announced curtly, kneeling down next to Millie. "One, two, th—"
Millie's head jerked up and she leaned away, almost knocking her head into the bench. "Wait, just—just give me a second. Don't hit me!" she wheezed, yanking her hand away from Pansy and placing it on her heaving chest.
"Give her some room to breathe," Flint snapped, making everyone instantly take several steps back at the dominant crack in his tone. In the newly cleared space he stepped forward and held out his hand. Millie knew better than to make him wait. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Flint shoved Draco and Terence off the bench at her back and then sat Millie down in the space he'd made.
Without letting go of her hand, he crouched down in front of her so they were eye to eye. "Tell me."
Releasing a quivery breath, Millie clutched at his fingers and nodded. "The expedition—they were all—after looking at the Basilisk's eyes in the mirror—they were all—" she swallowed loudly and then whispered "—petrified. Instead of killed. They were petrified."
Gasping along with the rest of the table, Harry felt the pieces in his head abruptly click into place. "She did figure it out. She did, of course! She's a genius!"
Eyes wide, Draco shook his head back and forth. "No. That's impossible. Someone else would've figured that out. No."
"Yes, Slytherin's creature is a basilisk! It has to be! The lines of spiders fleeing through the cracks in the walls—we've all seen them this year—and the dead roosters Hagrid kept finding and then the rooster's blood used to write the message today, even the voice that only I can hear, the voice of a giant snake that would sound like meaningless hissing to anyone who wasn't a Parselmouth. It has to be!" Harry said urgently, pounding his hand in his fist.
Hugging himself, Draco swallowed and shook his head again. "No way. No. At least one person would've died by now if a basilisk was really here."
"Reflections," Valeria said sharply. "The shiny shield on that suit of armor, the camera lens… maybe looking through a ghost works the same way somehow? That would explain Nearly Headless Nick."
Blaise cleared his throat softly and added, "Water reflects and there was a puddle of water on the floor by Mrs. Norris the night we found her."
"But," Draco's voice wavered, "the basilisk is supposed to be at least fifty feet long. There's no way no one would've noticed a creature that big sneaking around the hallways of the school for all of these months."
Harry grabbed the book off the table and flipped it back open, pointing to Hermione's note in the margins. "She figured that out too! It's using the pipes in the walls to get around. It makes sense. This is what Hermione was trying to tell me! The creature from the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk and it's moving through the pipes!"
Draco shook his head, shoulders pulling up around his ears as he hunched forward. "Okay, fine, but so what? Even if it is a basilisk, there's nothing we can do about it."
"Excuse me, if I may have your attention," called Professor Lockhart loudly from where he had thrown open the main doors and stopped to pose. The room quieted down and turned to look at him. "Is Ginny Weasley in here? Gryffindor first year Ginny Weasley?" The Gryffindor table was empty of redheads, so the Weasleys must've all been in their dorm. The remaining students shook their heads. Lockhart continued, "She's not in her common room and the halls have been emptied. Has anyone seen her recently?"
A first-year Gryffindor with black hair in a ponytail stood up and, with a quick glance at her friends, turned to address Professor Lockhart. "She skipped breakfast with us to stay in bed and write in her diary instead. By the time we returned from eating, she was gone. She didn't show up to hang out with us like she promised either. None of us have seen her since." She glanced back at the Gryffindor table uncertainly, but no one added anything. Turning back, she swallowed and hugged her arms around herself. "Why? What's wrong with Ginny?" her voice quivered.
The unfortunate answer to that seemed rather obvious to Harry, but he was hoping he was wrong.
Behind Lockhart and over by the base of the stairs stood several Professors. They were watching Lockhart unhappily. Professor Sinistra was rubbing her temple as if she had a headache. Above them Harry could see McGonagall hurrying down the steps from Gryffindor tower. She had her eyes locked on Lockhart's back like she wanted to shove a sock down his throat.
The reason why became clear when Lockhart heaved a dramatic sigh and pressed a hand over his heart. "Oh dear, I was afraid of that. Unfortunately Miss Weasley is the only other student still unaccounted for. If she's not here then I'm afraid she must've been taken in the latest attack and killed." The room erupted into noise. Lockhart wiped a hand beneath his dry eyes as if wiping away tears and raised his voice to speak over the hysteria. "What a tragedy." He clapped his hands. "Well, I shall always remember her as an enthusiastic fan. In fact, I shall send signed copies of all my books to her family to comfort them in this time of great loss." He smiled around the room and then looked up at the ceiling soulfully.
"Lockhart!" McGonagall snapped at his back, her rebuke mostly lost beneath the screams and cries of the students.
Harry remembered a girl's voice crying Ginny's name just before the Basilisk had scared him and felt his stomach twist with nausea at the realization that Ginny must've been attacked right after that. His grapes threatened to come spewing back up. If he'd just stood up and gotten help at the first hint of that voice instead of freezing in the alcove like a coward, Ginny might not have been attacked at all. He might've even been able to stop Hermione and Halle from being taken. This was his fault.
Somehow, he had to fix it.
"That's impossible! Ginny Weasley is a pureblood!" cried Draco, slamming his hand down on the table, looking unhinged. "My father promised that purebloods are safe here. He'd never have left me here with a basilisk on the loose, not me…." He glanced over at Harry and then, expression twisting, seemed to collapse, as if some internal structure had finally snapped. His eyes went glassy as his head dropped.
"Maybe… maybe it's because her family acts like blood traitors? Her dad's pretty open about liking Muggle things. Could that explain it?" asked Theo desperately. Harry hadn't even noticed Theo sitting farther down the table until he'd spoken.
Everyone was trying to speak over each other.
"It's time to face facts. The creature is attacking indiscriminately and blood doesn't matter!"
"We're all gonna die!"
"No one's safe!"
"Now calm down, calm down!" Lockhart shouted, waving his hands and seeming a bit frazzled. "Really, There's no need to worry because we'll be closing the school and sending you all home as soon as we figure out an evacuation plan. Until then, I can entertain you with a dramatic reading from one of my books." He smiled hopefully, but everyone was still too busy freaking out to give him his usual attention.
The smile dropped off his face and, looking awkward, he took a step backwards, right into a very angry and stressed looking McGonagall. Grabbing his arm, she wrenched him around. Harry had to read her lips to know what she was saying over the noise, but it seemed to be, "I think you've done enough! Aren't you supposed to be finding the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets? Go and do that instead, if you please. Now. Don't come back without my students either."
Lockhart flashed her a grimacing smile and disappeared in the direction of his office. McGonagall stomped over to the knot of other teachers, leaving the doors open.
"So what do we do now?" Pansy asked tremulously. "Should we tell them about the basilisk? Is there even a point? Dumbledore's the only wizard who could've maybe taken on a creature like this without dying and he's long gone. I don't think that even Professor Snape could do anything. We can't count on the other Professors, they're clueless. Half of them were telling people to gather in here and the rest saying return to your dorms, leading to contradictory orders and groups of students ping-ponging through the halls and hiding in every corner crying and wailing until Snape and McGonagall came round to sort everyone out."
Blaise rolled his eyes and added bitterly. "Not to mention that it's been how long and we still haven't seen any Aurors searching about? Maybe they'll show up in time for dinner." He snorted. "The Ministry is useless. We're doomed!"
Harry could see that most of his friends were falling into panic and despair. They looked defeated.
"No," Harry said, jumping to his feet and cutting through the dark atmosphere with one crisp word. "We are not doomed. Not yet."
Valeria stood up next to him. "No. The adults may not save us, but we are strong enough to save ourselves. We can and we will."
Mind racing over plans and possibilities, Harry looked around. "You guys, stop panicking and think about this. Because of Hermione, we have hope! Now that we know what's going on, we can use this to save our school and ourselves." Most of their faces still looked fearful and skeptical.
Harry lifted his chin and took a breath, not allowing himself to show anything but confidence. "Not only that, but this is a prime opportunity for Slytherin to shine. We can turn this to our advantage and force everyone to see that Slytherins are the real heroes here, that Slytherins are the ones smart enough and cunning enough to figure out and fix something no one else could, not even the adults and so-called experts. It's time to show everyone just how powerful we really are. We can not only survive this, we can come out on top."
Flint moved up and put his hands on Valeria's and Harry's shoulders, squeezing once and looking around so everyone saw the action and his silent approval before letting them go. Harry stood straighter, practically feeling his social standing climbing several rungs higher just in the time it took for Flint's gaze to sweep over the crowd of Slytherins and then return to center. A couple of fourth years—who usually either ignored Harry or rolled their eyes when he spoke—respectfully dropped their eyes from Harry's face to his collar when his gaze passed over them. The respect and status increase felt good. He would need it for the next part of his plan—the part that was a lot more personal and way more risky.
"They're right, so listen up," Flint said, interrupting Harry's thoughts and hijacking the crowd. "I have a plan. We're going to do this with minimal risk and maximum profit. We need to gather up our house, especially those still in the dungeon, along with anyone else who wants to come. We move as quickly as possible and get everyone safely out of the castle. Use mirrors to move around, maybe—better petrified than dead. We'll tell the Professors what's going on, but let them know we'll act with or without their approval. We aren't getting killed for their stupidity. Once Slytherin is safely out, we beg, borrow, steal, and conjure up as many roosters as we can find, cast a sonorous spell on the entire flock to make them loud, and stampede them through the castle halls. If Harry can hear the Basilisk's voice through the walls, it should be able to hear the rooster's crowing through them too."
"The Ministry or Board of Governors should hopefully have arrived by then and we can send them in to check for the Basilisk's corpse, making them assume all of the risk but making sure everyone knows that we were really the ones to kill it. Once it's dead we can move back into the castle, get the other houses to clean up all the chicken poop, earn a thousand house points, and resume classes and the Quidditch season come Monday morning. By next week we'll be the undisputed heroes and kings of Hogwarts." The atmosphere of fear had turned to hope and rising ambition as everyone at the Slytherin table nodded along with Flint's words.
"What's a Basilisk?" someone at the far end of the table asked.
Draco, always eager to steal the spotlight, jumped in before anyone else could and summed up what they knew, making it sound like he'd been the one to discover the information in the first place. His skin was paler than normal and his smirks more tremulous, but he seemed to find some comfort from all of the attention.
"Now you know what we know," Flint finally cut him off, effortlessly taking the crowd back from Draco. "I'll get our people in the dungeon out and try to get Professor Snape on our side. Terence, I'm putting you, Artemis, and Dulcina in charge of getting everyone in here out of the castle and dealing with interference from the Professors and other students." There was only Professor Flitwick left out in the atrium now. The rest of the adults had disappeared. Flint glanced at Valeria but didn't give her any orders, probably because he knew she'd just do whatever she wanted to anyways.
Pansy raised her hand and waited for Flint to call on her. "I have a cosmetics spell that can turn most small objects into a mirror for a few minutes."
"Good idea." Without warning Flint grabbed Pansy around the waist and lifted her up from her seat, standing her up on the bench. Keeping hold of the squeaky and still-wobbly Pansy, he cast his eyes around the Slytherin table sternly. "We aren't losing anyone else to this creature, so pay attention!" Then he patted Pansy on the hip and let go. "Go on, give everyone a demonstration."
Pansy locked her knees and pulled out her wand, demonstrating the mirror spell several times. The other houses were still giving the Slytherin table a wide berth. They craned their necks and watched Pansy with confusion and curiosity, but no one was brave enough to risk Flint's wrath by coming over and asking what was going on.
Harry was one of the last people to get the mirror spell to work, but once he did he stood up and said something that he knew wasn't going to be very popular with his friends, much less the rest of his house. "Flint has a good plan... except for one thing," Harry said, squaring his shoulders and making sure to build tension by looking around and catching people's eyes. He was going to have to spend all of the political capital he'd just earned if this was going to work. Hopefully it would be enough. "By the time we do all of that, it might be too late. The basilisk will probably have already killed and—and eaten Hermione, Halle, and Ginny Weasley. We need to figure out where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is because Halle's one of us, a Slytherin. Just surviving this isn't enough. Some of us need to go down there and save our friends too."
Someone spit out their drink and began hacking and coughing loudly.
"Technically, I'm not really friends with any of those people," Draco quickly pointed out in a higher pitch than normal. "In fact, last I checked," he stuck out his pointy chin and met Harry's eyes in challenge, "you aren't friends with them either, Harry, and haven't been for months. Remember? Hermione never did forgive you, not really. Don't be stupid about this. Just stick to the plan."
Feeling sucker punched and betrayed, Harry's wand jumped to his hand and he shot a titty-twister hex (a mild but nasty little spell Pansy had taught him) at Draco, making the other boy jerk back and slap a hand to his chest. "Ouch, you brute!"
"Don't you dare!" Harry bared his teeth and kept his wand unsheathed. "I get to say who's my friend and who isn't and I will not leave them to die. I won't!"
"It's a fifty foot venomous snake with deadly eyes!" Draco snarled, getting up in Harry's face. "They're already dead! You don't need to die too!"
"It's got Hermione," Harry snarled, "and it's my life."
"Harry, think for a second," Blaise begged. "Even if it's not already too late, we don't know where they are or even how to get into the pipes to go after them. No one does."
"It's got Hermione," he repeated, louder and more strident than before. Couldn't they see how that couldn't be allowed to stand? How wrong that was? If he was her friend—which he was—then it was his job to protect her, his self-sworn duty. If he didn't even try, he wouldn't be able to look himself in the eye ever again.
He sucked in air despite his chest feeling like it was full of gravel and broken glass and tried to at least make his voice sound reasonable. "It's got Halle and Ginny too. They deserve to have at least one person trying for them, since the teachers seem to have given up already except for a token effort of throwing that gormless idiot Lockhart at the problem. He couldn't find his own bum with two hands and a map. Someone has to save them, someone has to care. It might as well be me. No one else seems to." He glared around at all of them.
Valeria put a hand on Harry's arm. He shook it off. "Harry," she said warningly, eyes tight, "I know you don't want to hear this, but they're right. Flint's plan is our best bet. Those girls are as good as ghosts by now. If not, the beast will probably leave the petrified ones to be eaten last. Maybe we can act quickly enough that they'll survive this. Either way, it's out of your hands. There's nothing you can do."
Head shooting up, Harry's breath caught as her words jogged loose an idea. "Ghosts...Moaning Myrtle!"
"Oh no," Draco groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. "I know that look. He's stopped listening and made up his mind, come hell or high water. Harry, you idiot. Don't do this…."
Harry began pacing as he thought out loud, hopping over the outstretched legs from sitting housemates without a hitch. "Myrtle often complains about the pipes around her bathroom being too scary and crowded, especially on days when people have been attacked, like earlier today. She was also killed in that bathroom the last time the Chamber of Secrets opened, meaning there's probably a way for the Basilisk to get in and out of that room or at the very least a way to open the pipes for an eyeball to peek through. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Myrtle's related to Halle," He pounded a fist in his hand, "meaning I can probably appeal to family feeling to convince her to help me get into the pipes and find them."
"And do what, Harry? What are you going to do to a fifty foot snake even if you do find a way into the Chamber of Secrets?" Valeria demanded. "This is madness!"
"I can—I can try to talk to it, maybe convince it to go out into the forest away from people where there's more food. Maybe it just needs someone to open up a way out of the walls with their wand. After all, it's always complaining about how hungry it is." Not to mention viciously bloodthirsty and murderous, but mentioning that wouldn't help his argument right now or make doing this feel less scary, no matter how necessary it felt otherwise. "Or I could get lucky and find it asleep or distracted. I might be able to use my cloak to sneak the girls away to safety or hide them from its sight. At the very least I could buy the rest of you enough time to come back with the roosters and kill it."
"At the very least—!" Valeria said, sounding strangled. "You could die! You almost certainly will die! Harry, no!"
Frustrated, he threw up his hands. "Nevermind. I've wasted enough time talking. You guys get to safety. I'll rescue them by myself."
Harry turned to leave out one of the side doors where Professor Flitwick was too short to see him sneaking out, but he'd only gotten a few steps before a hand fisted in the back of his hair and yanked him back, making his eyes water painfully. The fist in his hair wrenched him around to face Valeria. Although her teeth were bared with temper, her lower lip was trembling and he could see the whites of her eyes. "You're going to get yourself killed if you go! I won't let you!"
"You can't stop me!"
"Oh can't I?"
Snarling, Harry grabbed her wrist and dug in his fingernails. In response, Valeria tightened her grip, tearing hair from his scalp as she snarled back. Sucking in a hissing breath, he glared straight into her eyes and did his best to keep from flinching or showing any other weakness. It hurt, but never seeing Hermione again and losing Hogwarts would hurt worse, much worse. He dropped his hand from Valeria's wrist.
"Look—Valeria—you once told us that we needed to learn how to be powerful enough to protect ourselves and those we loved, that we had to learn when to bend a knee and when to stay standing and fight. Well, I listened to you. Although I still have a lot to learn, it isn't in my nature to bend a knee, especially when I know that I am in the right, not even out of fear or love, not even for you." Her lips thinned but her grip slackened. Harry continued. "What is my power for if not for this?" He begged her to understand. "What is the point of all my learning if not to use everything I am to protect the people and things I care for? No one ever rescued us," he said quietly, seeing her flinch for the first time. "I won't be like them. Hermione, Halle, and even Ginny deserve better. Someone should try for them and who can I trust more to do it than myself?" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Of course I'm terrified, but if I fail this test and don't even try, I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life." Sucking in air, he leaned into her and spoke clearly and firmly, "I need to do this. I have to, so let—me—go."
Valeria breathed in hard, nostrils flaring, before releasing a single word through gritted teeth, "No."
"Valeria—" he began, tone warning her that she had mere seconds before he started kicking and fighting her with every dirty trick in his arsenal.
"No." Skin pale and jaw stiff, she abruptly released his hair and dropped her hand to her side, flexing fingers tangled with torn black hair. "I won't let you go, but... if you insist on this... I will go with you. We're both Seekers. Finding things is what we do."
"No." This time, the gutted voice was Flint's.
Expression twisting, Valeria glanced over Harry's shoulder to meet Flint's eyes. "We'll—" her voice broke "—see you again after the rooster crows. Keep yourself safe. You're taking me out next Hogsmeade weekend and if you're lucky, I might share that broom ride you once promised me." She sent him a painfully crooked smile.
"Valeria!" Flint thundered.
Grabbing Harry's hand, Valeria turned and ran with him out the side door and up the staircase towards the second floor and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. A glance out the window showed the rapidly receding form of Gilderoy Lockhart flying away with a large suitcase strapped to the back of his broom—Lockhart, who was supposed to be the one adult assigned to look for the missing students. Even though his cowardice wasn't exactly a surprise, Harry still felt a jolt of bitterness at witnessing another adult betraying the children under his supposed care.
As they burst out of the stairwell and raced hand-in-hand towards Myrtle's bathroom, Harry felt everything in himself sharpen. This was going to work. He was going to save Hermione and the others and he wasn't going to let Valeria get so much as a single scratch. Neither failure nor fear were valid options. This had to work. They might be facing a giant snake, but together, he and Valeria were two razor-sharp fangs that would slice to the heart of this problem and solve it—one way or another.
