The silence was deafening to the point it was almost insanity inducing, but the raven haired male did not notice, nor did he care. The tranquillity that he ensued made him glad to be away from all the wildness of the surface, where the boy had been overwhelmed with schoolwork, quidditch, and on many occasions, his fame.
Harry Potter observed the greenish-grey carving of the infamous wizard, Salazar Slytherin, a small sigh passing his chapped lips as green eyes scanned each and every detail, from the individual strands of hand-carved hair, to the slimy patches of moss that had began the form in the years during his absence from the Chamber.
The smell of damp stone hung in the slight mist that lurked across the interior of the large cavern, sickly hints of mold mixed within it. Dying torches gave the scene a little light, but only enough to cast sinister shaped shadows that flickered across the grimy ceiling that dripped with murky water. Harry's grimace was hidden by the gloomy darkness. It still seemed as malignant as it had been when he had first entered the Chamber of Secrets.
Green eyes snapped tightly shut as he grit his teeth, black bangs shaking as he shook his head in order to repress the unpleasant, in some ways vexatious, memory. Just the sight of Ginny's limp body was enough to cause bile to rise within his twelve-year-old's self's oesophagus and while he had eventually learned to compose himself during situations similar to that, the disgusting after taste the scene had physically and mentally left him was indescribable. The nightmares that had followed that event had been execrable and many sleepless nights had occupied several weeks of necessary slumber, similar to how his night amends had been for the last six months, giving the male an unspoken sense of deja vu that his brain barely seemed to register as of late.
Harry was used to it.
The nightmares.
The loneliness.
The bitter attitude that some still acknowledged him with, as if he was the cause for the wizarding battle that had turned Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry into a pernicious warzone. What hurt was that, in some ways, the only son of Lily and James Potter knew they had been correct.
Voldemort had been after him, and if not for the need to locate the dark lord's Horcruxes quickly, Harry would have avoided returning to the school at all. Unfortunate circumstances, however, had led to a distasteful (and an almost expected) chain of events.
A scowl crossed the Gryffindor's facial muscles as his string of regrettable thoughts swirled through his brain, pupils locked onto the red accented robe that lay in a clump next to him, soaking up yellow tinted liquid (not piss).
As he sat there in the abyss of Slytherin's Chamber, a loud croak echoed throughout the emptiness, startling the eighteen-year-old and causing him to flinch due to the sudden noise. Hurriedly scrambling to his feet, Harry held his wand like a knight would a sword, torso facing sideways while he faced forward towards one of the open passageways that led deeper into the sewers that lay hidden from sight of every other student that attended the school that stood above.
Watching with cautious eyes, the 'Boy Who Lived' carefully approached the intimidating shadow that loomed along the slime covered wall, the flickering flame of the torches making the male feel even more unsettled than he already was.
Closer and closer still Harry edged towards the croaking, which became louder and louder the further he willed himself to go.
And eyes like emeralds landed upon... a toad?
Small, squishy and a murky brown in colour, the creature was certainly nothing to fear, but if eight years of education in the existing world had taught the dark haired N.E.W.T student anything, then he knew perfectly well that looks could be deceiving.
Not lowering his fighting stance, he conveyed himself nearer to the miry amphibian, which was now hopping away from the abode where it had been sitting. Harry's eyebrow raised a fraction as he watched the toad jump along the wide, wet-walled pipe. He did not think anything had any chance of surviving down in this dark cloaca, unless of course it was some kind of magical critter. He highly doubted that the toad was magical though, for it had shown no signs of odd body features or magical abilities.
A faint hiss broke the raven-ette's musings. He froze, ears pricking up as he listened carefully to make sure he was not imagining things. Another soft hiss shattered the silence, and Harry turned to face where he believed the sound to be originating from. His eyes fell on a piece of white eggshell. Forest green orbs widened as a textbook extract began to form within his mind's eye: "... born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad..."
Harry readied his wand, aiming at the eggshell, where he was almost certain the assumed infant Basilisk lay. His mouth opened when he heard the reptile let out another hiss, and his words seemed to disappear from his vocal cords. The newborn snake sounded so scared, he could not kill it; it was only a baby after all.
God, he was starting to sound like Hagrid: "he's only a baby after all..."
"For God's sakes, pull yourself together, man..."
An expression of abhorrence crossed his face for a split second at the thought of the cranky, old Argus Filch. The male inhaled, drawing in oxygen to calm his nerves and clearing his thoughts of the ratty Hogwarts caretaker.
He could do this.
Laying his line of vision on the eggshell, Harry watched as the tiny nose of a snake poked out from under the eggshell, nostrils quivering as the literal mini-beast sniffed the damp air. The Basilisk released a more pronounced whine, obviously terrified.
It was now or never.
"Shh..." The dark haired boy whispered in Parseltongue, crouching down next to the eggshell. "It's okay, I'm not here to hurt you."
After Voldemort's demise, Harry was somehow still blessed with the accursed ability, however, he had never plucked up the courage to tell his best friends of his predicament. Ironic right?
The serpent visibly tensed, tongue twitching as he waited for what he believed to be a threat make a move. Harry inched his hand closer to the shivering snake. As he brushed the Basilisk's smooth scales, he felt the creature trembling uncontrollably under his fingertips. The reptile vocalised what sounded very similar to a whimper.
"Shh... Easy. Easy..." Harry coaxed gently, stroking his fore finger along the snake's head in a repetitive circular motion. The Griffindor watched with half-hearted concern as the infantile Basilisk began to noticeably relax.
With extreme caution, the green eyed male slowly shifted the eggshell from over the baby, shutting his eyes forcefully but continuing to pet the serpent with his free hand. Harry cracked open one eye by the littlest fraction he could possibly manage. The snake was studying the human with his eyes, which were a surprisingly dull mix of orange, saffron and slate grey. Harry could have sworn that he could see a hint of curiosity lingering within them.
He then let his eyes slowly open fully, inspecting it with a mixed sense of wariness and intrigue. The scaled head of the Basilisk tilted upwards in the direction of his face and fiery orange met with cool green. Harry quickly tore his gaze from the creature's faded orbs, yet another second year memory flashing in his mind - "I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body seized up, and then I was floating away..."
Green eyes locked onto the stone wall of the huge tunnel. A hiss broke the silence once again.
The male shot a glance at the child Basilisk, which was still looking up at him with interest. Harry weighed his options.
He could, one, still carry out his original plan and kill it before it could cause any damage, or two, he could tell Professor McGonagall what he had uncovered. Neither sounded at all appealing to the raven haired male.
So Harry decided to do something very idiotic and, in some ways, Gryffindor worthy; he was going to attempt to tame the Basilisk.
He had long since dropped his crouching position and was now sitting next to the tiny snake, even allowing for the creature to rub itself against his hand.
"What to call you...?" Harry murmured, staring at the wall directly ahead of him. He glanced at the baby Basilisk again, watching it sniff his fingers.
"Perhaps I could name you after somebody?" The green eyed Gryffindor asked himself.
"Ron? Dean? Neville?" Harry began listing some of his male classmates, "Draco? Fitting for a snake but definitely not."
At that, Harry shuddered slightly, then returned to listing names once more. He hardly noticed that the snake was staring at him intently, appearing to be listening to names that Harry continued to list.
"I could call you Albus..." Harry said thoughtfully, stroking the reptile with his forefinger for the thirteenth time. He directed his attention back to the serpent yet again and it looked up at him, as if asking why the boy seemed particularly fond of the name.
"Albus was the name of one of the greatest wizards of all time." Harry spoke softly before converting to Parseltongue.
"He was a caring friend, an amazing teacher back before he became headmaster of Hogwarts. He held the position for years until- WAIT!"
The Gryffindor converted back to English, speaking rapidly.
"Snape. I can call you Snape."
For the first time ever in the gloomy cavern, Harry's face split into a grin.
"You shall be called Snape." He hissed cheerfully in Parseltongue, nodding at the newly named Basilisk, Snape. The teenager then told Snape about his namesake.
"Severus Snape was probably one of the bravest wizards I knew. He risked his life to protect me and everyone who stood against Voldemort. He died a hero. He-."
Harry broke off mid-sentence as his ears caught the faint chiming of a clock.
"Oh no." The raven haired male cursed in English, and the small snake looked up at him. Harry began speaking in Parseltongue again, as he stood up.
"I have to go now."
Snape hissed at him, not in anger; the snake's tone was more upset and terrified sounding. Harry quickly bent down and stroked the Basilisk on his head.
"I'll come back later if I can." The bespectacled teen muttered softly before standing again. He headed towards the main cavern of the Chamber, giving a glance at Snape, who was watching every step he took as Harry approached his Firebolt, which was lying with his crumpled Gryffindor robes.
"HARRY!"
Harry was snapped out of his thoughts to see an intelligent Gryffindor with a mane of untameable, bushy, brown hair staring at him inquiringly.
"Harry. Are you even listening?" Hermione's demanding tone was confident and clearly showed the authority that she bore as both a Prefect and as a saviour of the wizarding world.
"Yes." Harry answered automatically.
"Then what did I just say?"
"I dunno. I wasn't listening at that point."
Ron, who was sitting beside Harry, snorted as the only female of the Golden Trio whacked the previously known 'Chosen One' around the back of his head with a piece of rolled up parchment.
"Com'on, Harry," The red head said, "Even I was listening, and I hardly ever listen to Hermione."
This earned him a similar smack on the head with Hermione's parchment.
"Ow! What was that for?!" The lankier male asked indignantly, rubbing where the parchment had made contact with his skull.
Hermione said nothing but shot a glare at her red-haired boyfriend; they had started dating a short while after the Battle of Hogwarts ended. She turned to Harry again, taking a breath.
"I'm just asking if you were all right, Harry. You seem distracted."
The black haired male silently cursed Hermione's sharp observation skills, but managed to keep a straight head. A useful skill that the trio had also seemed to have developed during their years at Hogwarts was the ability to read each other's expressions, Hermione, of course, being able to master it easily.
On this occasion, the action stirred a hint of annoyance in the green eyed male. He turned to face the smartest student of their year and addressed her.
"Yes. I'm fine. Just thinking about earlier."
A small sigh was heard.
"I feel bad for leaving you behind while we went to Hogsmead." Hermione said, glancing at Ron and then sending a sympathetic expression towards Harry. Harry shook his head.
"No, no, Hermione. I couldn't just third-wheel your date. That've just been awkward. Besides, I can't go to Hogsmead anymore." Harry's line of vision fell to the piece of roast chicken that sat on the silverware in front of him. He poked at the well-cooked poultry with his fork.
A short but painful silence fell between the three best friends as they remembered the few more enjoyable times they had experienced with the black-haired boy's godfather.
"No one to sign the permission slip, right." Ron's freckle covered face fell. Then he looked up.
"Then what about sixt-?"
"Professor Dumbledore." Harry muttered flatly, obviously wanting to direct the conversation elsewhere. The sixth born of the Weasleys nodded in understanding, giving his best friend a small pat of sympathy on the back.
The three then finished their desserts in silence, Harry being the first to clean his plate. He sat quietly as he waited for the meal to end, and for Professor McGonagall to instruct the student body of Hogwarts to go to bed.
Harry, being the unintended rule-breaker bender he was, had snuck back to the Myrtle's toilet.
He let the Cloak slide off of his head, shuffling with the bag of both cooked and raw meat varieties that he held. He looked up at the giant sink in front of him; it would have been impressive looking if it were not for the slick, black grim that had begun to form within the metallic basins and the thickening layer of dust that had begun to collect on the said basins' edges.
The only source of light within the girl's bathroom was the silver moonlight that shimmered through the small window above the stalls and reflected off of Harry's glasses. The gloomy room was silent, and not even a white wisp of Moaning Myrtle could be seen.
The eighteen-year-old stared at the dust covered mirror, the emerald eyes of his reflection locked onto his own. In one hand, his Firebolt was clenched firmly against his sweating palm, while the fingers of the other were grasped around the bag of a variety of cooked and raw meat.
"Open..." He hissed in Parseltongue, and the sink began to shift, revealing a large, familiar hole that appeared to lead nowhere.
Taking a breath, Harry plunged into the black abyss of the tunnel, sliding through the twisting, turning pipeways.
He landed on the ground at the base of the tunnel, cringing at the sound of the rat's skulls he had crushed under his feet. He then began to make his way towards the main chamber, where the large statue of Slytherin resided.
Gripping the bag of meat tightly in one hand, and his Firebolt in the other, Harry called out to the reptile infant.
"Snape?"
What shocked the Gryffindor was the fact the Basilisk had responded with a timid hiss that suggested that he resided somewhere within the shadows of the echoing chamber.
Harry removed his school cloak, resting it on the damp ground with his broomstick and the Invisibility Cloak. A small hiss broke the mostly silent chamber once more and the wizard slowly began to edge closer to its source, never loosening his grip upon the bagged variety of meat assortments he had fetched from the kitchens.
"Snape?" The male called out again, louder this time.
Another hiss answered his call and a small, reptilian head poked out from behind a wall, tongue flickering as the baby Basilisk 'smelt' around for Harry.