15. Conflicts of Interest
Harry sighed and shook his head at the very idea of a Headmaster sacrificing a student's future just to protect his reputation.
"Of course," HtB said, "there was no more terrorizing of the muggle-borns, it was too dangerous for Tom. Plus, if the paralysations had started again, it would have raised doubts about Hagrid's involvement, and his 'monster', ma'am. Not to mention the school actually closing."
The Head of the DMLE stared at him frowning, thinking for a while, nodding to herself occasionally. "If he's a half-blood, why terrorize the muggle-born? Especially if he's a well-liked Prefect," she said, musing.
"He hates muggles?" He said, then shrugged. "I don't know, ma'am, but he did become Voldemort, so maybe he just hated them because of the way he was treated at the orphanage . . .," HtB's voice trailed off into silence. He turned his head to look at Harry. "You didn't tell me that!" he said accusingly. He paused as Harry tapped out his reply. "You didn't think it was important?" his voice went up at the end of the sentence.
Harry shook his head. They had been doing so well, too. Apparently, the boy was paying more attention to what he said that Harry had thought. Not pertinent, back then, wasn't using that name, yet, he tapped out to the boy
Everyone was looking at the two in wide-eyed shock.
"Voldemort!? You-Know-Who?" declared Madam Bones, sitting up straight.
"Well, yes," the boy conceded, still talking to Harry. "But Voldemort being Tom Riddle isn't pertinent to what happened back then," he continued, looking at Madam Bones.
He shook his head as Harry quickly tapped out, Remember what Dumbles said about proper names!
"Yeah, the Headmaster did tell me 'you should always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself,' " he said to Harry, looking at him from the edges of his eyes, his head partly turned, "and Tom Riddle is his real name. But you could have told me they were the same person!"
He's not here, Harry replied.
"I know he isn't here, right now," the boy said rather crossly, "But, he is trying to come back, you remember what happened last year! Besides, calling him Tom would be mean nobody would scream or faint every time I mentioned him."
Harry reluctantly admitted the truth in that. Call him Tom. If anyone's curious, they will ask.
"Coming back!" Madam Bones half-yelled, standing. "What happened last year!?" She turned to glare at the Headmaster.
"Harry!" Dumbledore said just as loud.
The boy paled significantly as he looked at the two glaring adults. He pulled his arms in close to himself, protecting his sides and stomach. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" he said quickly, his eyes darting between the two. "The others had nothing to do with it! They didn't know! I promise I won't do it again!" He shut his mouth firmly, breaking out in a cold sweat.
Harry tried to soothe the frightened boy, pressing against the side of his head and hissing in his ear, §Don't panic, I'll keep you safe.§ He glared at both Bones and Dumbledore. He turned his head and retrieved one of his emergency portkeys, a small feather, from the pouch on his back. He pressed it against the back of the boy's head, under his hair, pretending he was grooming his hair. A hiss activated the sticking charm. He softly hissed in the boy's ear, §Don't touch,§ to prevent Harry from reaching up to feel it — assuming he noticed anything in his current state.
Harry rapidly began sending a message with his claws, squeezing. §Go with her, if asked. Tell her about summer, and my helping you. Do not mention typewriter, letters, or code. Say I always use Parseltongue.§ He paused. §In fact, you can tell everyone that.§
Meanwhile, the Head of the DMLE was facing off against Headmaster of Hogwarts. "What happened last year!" she demanded.
"Nothing you need to be concerned about," Dumbledore said placatingly, in his genial voice. "It wasn't anything important that the Ministry needed to concern itself with," he said dismissively.
Ron snorted, and snarkily murmured, "Right. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wraith trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone isn't anything important." He shook his head as Hermione huffed and nodded.
"Sorcerer's Stone!?" Bones repeated incredulously. She stared at Ron, who had clapped both hands over his mouth at her outburst. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
She rounded on the Headmaster. "If you don't start explaining, and explaining fast, we will continue this conversation in a Ministry Interrogation Room," she threatened.
All four Aurors had their wands out. The wands weren't pointed at anyone in particular, but the Aurors were ready.
"And if you don't want to explain, it sounds like these fine upstanding students of yours will be more than willing to share what they know, after we adjourn to my office in the Ministry. Their House Head can easily substitute for their parents in this investigation! The Wizengamot will be happy to provide backing to me on anything to do with the Sorcerer's Stone, if only to prevent another Goblin Rebellion!"
Dumbledore and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were glaring at each. He was standing behind his desk, now, and she had her hands on her hips. Her right hand held her wand in her fist and it just so happened to be pointing vaguely in the Headmaster's direction. Two of the Aurors were not so subtle and had their wands pointed at the Headmaster.
Harry had no doubts that the Headmaster could take them all, no matter how fast they were, his "unbeatable" wand would assure that. The moment the headmaster moved in any way that might be offensive, Harry and the boy were portkeying to the secret tunnel that led to Honeydukes.
While the wards prevented a portkey from passing in or out of Hogwarts, they didn't stop anything that didn't cross them.
Finally, the Headmaster slowly nodded to Madam Bones. "Very well." He sat back down and rubbed his eyes. He sighed, leaned forward, and placed his hands, folded together, on his desk.
"As you know, I have always said that Voldemort," the Aurors and Bones flinched, "was not gone. I believe he became a wraith in nineteen-eighty-one, instead of dying. My primary clue was that the Death Eater Mark, while severely faded, has not disappeared entirely, as it should have, if the wizard were truly dead and gone." He paused. "I did not tell the Ministry, or anyone else, the specifics of my reasoning, the Dark Mark not fading, because I was worried it might spur one of the more dedicated Death Eaters into searching for him. I had to be content to let things remain as they were while I researched why he wasn't gone."
He sighed. "In the spring of nineteen ninety-one, Professor Snape came to me with concerns that his Mark had darkened. I knew it must mean that Voldemort' wraith," the Aurors and Bones flinched, again, "had found a human host of some kind, either willing or not."
He frowned at her. "I said nothing to the Minister or the Ministry of this circumstance because I knew it would simply be ignored, as it has been in the past." He stared pointedly at Madam Bones until she nodded that he was right — the Ministry would have ignored his warning. "Plus, I did not want to give hope to the Death Eaters who are still his supporters." He sighed.
"Professor Quirinus Quirrell, as you may remember, used to be our Muggle Studies Professor. In nineteen-ninety, the previous year, however, he took a year-off for a sabbatical to travel the world and study the Dark Arts. When he came back in mid-summer of the following year, after Professor Snape had noticed his Mark darkening, he asked for the DADA position. I gave him a brief test. His duelling and knowledge of the Dark Arts had dramatically improved, so I gave him the position." He stroked his beard and shook his head.
"However, only a week or so before then, my mentor and friend, Nicolas Flamel, had come to me with a request. A Dark Wizard was trying to get to his Sorcerer's Stone, he said, and he wished me to provide some additional protections. He no longer felt it was safe where it was." The Headmaster stroked his beard and sighed again.
"I suspected that the Dark Wizard he feared . . . was Voldemort."
They flinched, again.
"I made arrangements to have the Stone brought here, to Hogwarts, and had five of my professors contribute to a series of protections for the Stone. Unfortunately, one of them was Quirinus."
He watched Madam Bones as he explained.
"I did not know that Quirinus had believed my assurances that Voldemort was still a threat, and that he had used his sabbatical to go hunting for Voldemort's wraith to prove his Dark Wizard fighting abilities. Nor did I know that he had found Voldemort, and that he was possessed by Voldemort when he came back that summer."
Watching the others flinch at every mention of the name, and the way he was needlessly repeating the name, Harry had the impression that the Headmaster was trolling the Aurors.
Madam Bones was glaring at him. The four Aurors were trying to remain blank-faced, but they all looked pale and slightly frightened.
"I did not detect the possession because Voldemort used the Fidelius Charm to conceal himself, with Quirinus as the secret keeper. I suspected Quirinus might be involved in trying to acquire the Sorcerer's Stone, but could find no proof. Or the Fidelius made me dismiss any evidence I, or others, did find." He looked hard at Bones. "The Ministry Aurors would not have been anymore successful than I was."
Dumbledore then gave a rather concise summary of the events of last year, ending with, "And then, Voldemort, seeing he had lost, fled, killing poor Quirinus."
Interesting that he didn't put the blame for the wizard's death on Harry burning him to ash.
"Voldemort did not get the Stone. The Mirror of Erised, in which I had hidden it, was destroyed in the fighting, alas, rendering the Stone irretrievable . . . lost." He sadly looked down at his desk's top.
HtB, with Harry's help, had managed to calm down by this time. "If you want, ma'am," he said quietly, "I can give you a memory of what happened?" Harry had prompted him to say that, of course. Thank Merlin the Room had found that invisibility ring for him! They'd see the Stone appearing and disappearing, but not what took it.
"That won't be necessary," the Headmaster said dismissively.
"I'm sure you think so, Headmaster," Madam Bones declared, "but I do believe I am of a different opinion." At the Headmaster's look, she continued, "Do I need to get Wizengamot authorization? Getting permission to retrieve a student's memory of the death of a professor at Hogwarts in questionable circumstances would not meet any opposition. Especially if it was known that the student had freely volunteered the memory, beforehand."
After a moment's pause, the old wizard sadly shook his head. He opened a drawer, took out a small vial, and held it out to Madam Bones.
She ignored his offering and pulled a vial out of her pocket, instead. "Unspeakable-certified as uncontaminated," she said to the Wizard.
She walked over to HtB and took out her wand. "Mr. Potter, I would like you to concentrate on what happened with Professor Quirrell. Tell me when you have it as clear as you can."
HtB, following what Harry had told him to do, concentrated on when he, Hermione, and Ron were outside the third-floor corridor as they found the door already ajar — and then going to when he passed out grappling with Quirrell.
HtB actually took it a bit further, and included after he woke in the Hospital Wing up until the Headmaster left, he later told Harry.
Harry could hardly wait for Bones to see that memory, and how "thorough" Dumbledore's protections had been. As well as his obvious delight at HtB finding out about and researching the Stone.
The other three were watching, fascinated, as Bones pulled her wand away from HtB's head, pulling a slivery-white something resembling light-made-liquid — or wind-made-solid. "This is merely a copy of your memory, not the memory itself," she explained as she lowered the dangling strand into the vial she held with her other hand.
She tapped the vial with her wand, whispering something, and a label appeared with what looked like a brief description. She carefully placed the vial in her pocket and returned to her chair.
"If this bears out what you've said, Headmaster Dumbledore, Mr. Potter should have been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class for preventing the return of . . . Voldemort . . . and another costly and ruinous war."
She stared at Dumbledore. "We will discuss later why you thought it a good idea to place the Sorcerer's Stone that a Dark Wizard was searching for in a castle full of children, putting their lives at risk."
"I assure you . . .," he started to say, but she interrupted him.
"Could you absolutely guarantee that being a wraith hadn't driven him mad, and he wouldn't have attacked the children to escape? Or used a dozen of the pure-blood scions as hostages to force you to release the Stone? Or used them as wand-fodder going through your traps? This is the same wizard who tortured and killed children for entertainment, I remind you.
"Did he give you a Wizard's Oath he wouldn't do that? If not, then hundreds of children could have died."
He pursed his lips, but didn't continue with what he was going to say.
She looked back at HiB, and took a deep breath. "Now, Mr. Potter, you were explaining why you believe this Tom was . . . Voldemort?" She gave a slight shudder.
The boy sighed. "The snakes told me that he rearranged all the letters in his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, to say, 'I am Lord Voldemort.'"
Earlier in the year, Harry had explained to the other's that Voldemort was an angsty-teen's anagram. The three had been amazed to discover that Tom Marvolo Riddle's name, he of the award in the trophy room, spelled out I am Lord Voldemort. That it also spelled out Mr. Atom Dildo Lover, Tidal Overlord Mom, Immortal Dove Lord, Mermaid Volt Drool, and Mom Overdid a Troll, left them all with a serious case of the giggles. But HtB wasn't going to tell the Headmaster about those other names.
He shrugged. "That, with him being a parselmouth, his framing of Hagrid to protect the basilisk and conceal the Chamber, and keeping the school open for his convenience, well, I think it's pretty certain, ma'am." He carefully did not look at the Headmaster. "Maybe Headmaster Dumbledore has more evidence? He has watched Tom for his entire career, he was even Head Boy." He paused a moment as Bones gave Dumbledore a long, hard look. "I've even been told that Tom applied to be a Professor here, right, Sir?"
The Headmaster stared at HtB.
Bones' stare at the Headmaster had once more turned into a glare. Harry was mildly surprised that the old wizard didn't combust on the spot.
The old wizard shifted in his chair. "Yes," he said calmly, looking at both HtB and Bones, "That is true. Shortly after graduation, he applied to be the Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts to Headmaster Dippet. The Headmaster turned him down, saying that despite his outstanding grades in DADA, and obvious talent, he was too young. Not long after that, I heard he had secured a job at Borgin and Burkes, in Knockturn Alley."
Madam Bones nodded. "Did he ever reapply?"
The Headmaster hesitated, frowning.
"Did he?" She said more intently.
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, he did. Shortly after I became Headmaster in nineteen-sixty-five, Tom came to interview for the DADA position." Dumbledore paused and stroked his beard, thinking. "I knew he had been dabbling in the darkest of magics . . . he didn't strike me as trustworthy . . . so I said no."
After a brief pause, looking at Hedwig, HtB said, "Hedwig says that the curse on the DADA position — no professor lasting more than a year — started that year, ma'am."
Madam Bones looked at the Headmaster. "When I was at Hogwarts, there was a rumour that the position was cursed. Is it really cursed?"
Dumbledore slowly nodded. "I fear that the position was indeed cursed by . . . Voldemort."
"Who is Tom Riddle, right, Sir?" HtB said after a pause, and Harry prompting him.
Dumbledore slowly nodded.
"Which would have been extremely helpful to know fifteen years ago," Bones growled. "Half his support would have disappeared if the conservatives had known that!"
She glared at the Headmaster. "If the position was cursed, you should have called in the Unspeakables a decade ago! Allowing it to just . . . continue is unconscionable!"
"He would have denied being half-blood, saying I was lying. Few would have believed me." He ignored her statement that he should have had experts examine the castle for the curse.
HtB cleared his throat, staring up at Harry on his shoulder. "Uh, Hedwig says," he said slowly, "All you had to do was demand Voldemort name his father and mother to prove they were pure-bloods, or was he too ashamed of them to admit to who they were?" He paused as they thought that over. "If he said his Parseltongue proved he was heir, then you could bring in a snake handler from India where Parseltongue is much more common, and ask if his Parselmouth ability makes him an heir of Slytherin?"
He paused and looked up at Harry, again. "Hedwig says that even if he admitted to only being a half-blood, and not a muggle-born, no matter how prestigious his father or mother had been, the Conservatives would have been livid with him for claiming to be a pure-blood." He glanced at Bones, "Right, ma'am?" He paused a moment. "Aren't there laws against pretending to be a pure-blood?"
If mere looks from a witch could kill, the one Bones was giving Dumbledore would have done it. She finally nodded; her lips pressed into a fine line. "Headmaster Dumbledore, do you know who his father and mother were?"
Dumbledore sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He put his glasses back on and met her gaze steadily. "Yes," he said. "As you can probably deduce, his father was a muggle, Tom Riddle, Senior. His mother was Merope Gaunt, a squib. She never received a letter from Hogwarts."
Everyone gasped in shock.
"The Gaunt family had numerous run-ins with the Ministry, and both spent time in Azkaban in the late 1920's for cursing Ministry officials and muggles, Marvolo Gaunt, the father, received a sentence of six months. Morfin, her brother, served for three years. While the pair were in Azkaban, Merope either dosed Tom Riddle, Senior, a muggle, with a love potion or cast the imperius curse on him, thereby forcing him to marry her." He shook his head. "I believe the former as she had no wand, nor skills with a wand." He shook his head sadly.
"Her father died in Azkaban before Morfin was released." He sighed.
"When she became with child, she stopped potioning Riddle, perhaps in the belief that he really loved her, or that he would stay for the child. Or maybe she ran out of ingredients for it, or money. He left her, horrified at what had happened." He sighed, "She eventually made her way to a muggle orphanage, and died shortly after Tom was born, giving him his name before passing on."
Harry had been sending a message to HtB while the Headmaster slowly admitted to knowing Voldemort's parentage.
HtB took a deep breath, and visibly braced himself, not that anyone noticed. Everyone else was too wrapped up in the story, and its implications, to really pay attention to him.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" he said hesitantly.
Everyone looked at HtB.
"Well, ma'am," he said looking at the Head of the DMLE, "since you now know he's trying to come back, maybe you should publicize his half-blood status? That he lied to everyone? Reduce his support? It would also destroy his reputation, to some extent, right, Sir?" He glanced at Dumbledore, who clearly did not like the way this conversation was going.
She looked at HtB with a calculating expression.
"I've been told that Rita Skeeter would love this kind of . . . story," he hesitantly added.
She made a face of disgust, but then pursed her lips and slowly nodded. "That is something to consider," she said.
"I really don't think we need to do that," the Headmaster interjected. "It would needlessly stir up the conservative families for no real purpose."
Bones looked at the Headmaster. "It would put them in the awkward position of having to defend a half-blood who pretended to be a pure-blood in defiance of the laws against that, or admit he had previously hoodwinked them. It would certainly blow their broom off course. Plus, they would think twice before backing him again." She regarded the Headmaster intently. "Then there's the point that the two most powerful wizards ever to walk the isles — yourself and You-Know . . . Tom Riddle — are not pure-bloods."
"Grindelwald," HtB blurted out.
Both of the adults looked at him.
Eyes darting back and forth from one to the other, HtB slowly said. "Hedwig says that Grindelwald was a half-blood, too, and he stayed in England, Godric's Hollow, for a while, ma'am, before he started making headlines. His great-aunt is Bathilda Bagshot." He hesitated, then continued. "Maybe the Headmaster even met him, he used to live there when Grindelwald was there."
The Headmaster had a very blank expression, unlike the jovial, twinkling, grandfather image he liked to project.
More than one of the Aurors was watching with wide-eyes at the revelations they were hearing. It might not be official, but the rumour mill at the Ministry was going to be very interesting for the next few days. Rita might get wind of it even if Bones didn't mention it to her specifically.
Or, at least, that's what everyone would suspect. In fact, now that Harry considered it, Rita was due an owl with some juicy details for her to research. They'd never guess that Harry had chivvied things along with a direct message.
Madam Bones had an expression of extreme concentration. Harry would have smirked, if he could. She, no doubt, was rapidly putting together what she knew of Dumbledore and his reluctance to act for so long in Grindelwald's War. It wouldn't take her long after she checked the dates and talked with Bathilda to discover that he had not only met the wizard, but had been involved with him. That they both had been backers of the philosophy of Wizards should rule over Muggles for the Greater Good.
Another lead for Rita, Harry thought. He would wait until just before Christmas before "owling" her. That way, Bones would think she had a leak in her department.
For several moments there was dead silence.
The four children began to fidget.
It took some cajoling, but Harry managed to get the boy to again speak up. He thought the clinching argument that convinced the boy to say something was, it'll get us out of this room faster.
"So, um, Madam Bones," HtB said hesitantly.
She glanced at him and away from scowling at the Headmaster.
"So, there's no bounty or reward on killing a basilisk, right, ma'am? Just to be clear?"
She nodded. "Yes, although we would appreciate it if you would report the discovery of a Five-X creature rather than attempting to kill it yourself."
"Yes, ma'am," HtB said, a bit contritely.
He swallowed, then asked, "What are the rules on the remains, ma'am?" He paused a second. "I mean, Hermione says the snake's valuable because it's extremely rare. So, I asked the Goblins what they think it's worth. I had them develop the film for those pictures, ma'am," he nodded at the pictures on the scattered across Dumbledore's desk. "So they would know I wasn't exaggerating or lying to them."
Hermione was listening with rapt attention. Ron and Colin still looked very nervous.
She stared at him for a few moments, clearly thinking. "Normally," she said, "Any creature on private land belongs to the owner, wild or not. So, killing a creature on private land requires the owner's prior permission. The remains of the creature belong to the owner unless other arrangements with the hunter have been made.
"However, Five-X creatures are a threat to everyone and are illegal to own. If you are found keeping such a creature there is a mandatory Azkaban sentence. Because a landowner could falsely claim he didn't know the creature was there, he could still benefit from raising the creature when it was discovered and killed. As a result, the Wizengamot has decided that the killer, or killers, of a Five-X creature, or the closest relatives of them if they don't survive the encounter, are the sole beneficiaries of the remains. Unless previous contractual provisions have been made by the hunter or hunters, naturally."
HtB nodded slowly. "Then, I can go ahead and make a deal with Gringotts for the basilisk, ma'am?"
She nodded. "As far as the Ministry is concerned, now that it's dead, it's none of our business."
"As your Guardian, Harry," Dumbledore spoke up, "I will work for the best possible percentage."
"I was thinking of offering them five percent to start, Sir," HtB said.
The adults goggled at him, even Dumbledore appeared startled.
"We'll go back and forth before settling on something around fifteen percent, which will include all their labour in harvesting the basilisk and managing the sales," he continued. Harry, both of them, had learned a lot listening to his Uncle brag about his negotiating contracts for his company.
"When they act stubborn, I'll use the threat of hiring Professors Snape and Flitwick for the harvesting, at five thousand galleons each." He snorted. "I imagine Professor Snape might even do it for free in exchange for some of the venom, right, Sir?"
Snape managed to look both excited by the offer and disgusted at working with HtB.
"Plus," the boy continued, "I think a potions distributor would jump at the chance for selling basilisk ingredients at a thirty-percent markup."
Madam Bones, after staring at HtB for several moments, turned to Dumbledore. "I think you should let him drive his own bargain."
"Not that I think you would do so, Sir," HtB said carefully, "But because you are Headmaster of Hogwarts, if you were to decide that Hogwarts could provide the best opportunity, others might think you turned down an offer from Gringotts just to get more galleons for the school."
He swallowed. "For example, if their opening offer is thirty percent, you could say that the school would do it for twenty-nine percent and stop there." He hastily continued, "But you wouldn't do that, of course, Sir." He took a shaky breath. "However, no matter the price you might finally decide on, others will claim you didn't bargain hard enough to get a lower price because you wanted to make more for the school, Sir."
"Conflict of interest," Hermione murmured.
"Yes," HtB immediately agreed, "it's a conflict of interest," he said, nodding.
The Headmaster studied HtB, then slowly nodded as he stroked his beard. "If you would allow me to see what is proposed before you accept their final offer, perhaps that would be best." He smiled. "If I think the school can do better for you, I will make an offer. Then you can notify them of my offer and give them a final chance to better theirs. If they refuse, then you know you have made a good deal."
HtB nodded. "Yes, Sir. That sounds very reasonable."
The Headmaster turned his attention to Madam Bones. "If you have no further questions for the children, I think they can be dismissed. They've already missed their first class of the day." He shifted his attention to the children. "I will notify your professors so that you may make up any in-class work you missed." He turned back to Madam Bones.
The Head of the DMLE looked at HtB as she took another vial out of her pocket. "I would like the memory of you examining the snake, to give my people, and the Wizengamot, a sense of how big this basilisk is."
HtB nodded, "Of course."
"I would like a copy of that memory, also," Dumbledore said, "So that I might estimate the value of the harvestable ingredients more accurately than merely depending on the Goblins' estimate of its value."
Harry quickly advised HtB to start the memory with when they approached the cast-off skin, and stop just before he turned his attention to gathering the bottles of venom, and treating his knives.
There was no need to let anyone know he had done any of that.
A few minutes later, the four, plus Harry, were headed down the corridor towards their dorm to get their books for their next class, Herbology.
As they walked, Harry told HtB that he would compose the letter with their first offer to Gringotts for them to harvest the snake, and take it to them. He would have their reply and be back in time to meet HtB at lunch for the next round. With luck, by the end of tomorrow, they would have a contract.
That afternoon, Professor McGonagall came around and asked who would be going home for Christmas and who would be staying at the school.
HtB made sure to tell her he would be going "home."
-===(o|o)===-
The final arrangement with Gringotts was that HtB would get five percent of the ingredients, seventy-three percent of the proceeds of the sale of the ingredients, and enough skin to make a proper shirt and trouser armour for himself when he was an adult.
The glare he got from Snape the day after the deal was set should have left blisters. If not for the stringent study of Snape's point deductions and awards by the other Professors, Harry had no doubt the Gryffindors would have been in the negative numbers by the end of the class. As it was, HtB's Potions-work and assignments, he could see, would be universally graded as Troll for the rest of the month, if not school year. Hermione's grades were always Acceptables.
The only students to get Exceeds Expectations were Slytherins, and even then, they were mighty few.
Their Potions tutor usually gave HtB either Acceptables or Exceeds Expectations for the same assignments. Hermione's grades were usually Outstandings from the tutor.
Meanwhile, Harry took one of the basilisk-treated knives and dealt with each of the four Horcruxes he had gathered so far.
He decided to do the diary, first, as the most dangerous. The knife he chose was the sharpest of the group, a perfectly-balanced throwing knife. The Horcrux Room, as he had begun to think of it, was different, this time. It was larger with a very high ceiling, at least ten yards, if not more, over the floor.
First, he flipped open the box with the diary in it, then flew up to the ceiling. His practices with Draco paid off nicely. He just took a moment to hover, and let it fly. Gravity did the rest. The knife slammed into the diary with a satisfactory thump, and remained standing. As he remembered, ink flooded out of the diary before black smoke sprayed up from the box, forming the screaming visage of a young Tom Riddle. It dissipated into nothing.
Next, he did the tiara, which was harder to hit. But the knife managed to slice into the circlet beside the biggest gem. Remembering the reaction last time, he dived down and flipped the lid closed just as the metal started to bubble. Then he flew outside the room.
It would take a bit of time for the venom to work, so he took a break to get a drink of water before going back in. The results were impressive. The blast as the tiara released the magic it had absorbed over the years in the Room of Lost Things was extremely impressive. It blew the box's lid off and embedded it in the ceiling. He was exceedingly happy that he hadn't been in the room at the time.
Closing the box had probably helped contain the destruction, too.
Next came the Goblet. It, too, had sat in a magic-rich environment. The vault-magic had been more static, however. Still, dropping the knife and punching a hole through the bottom of the cup sufficed to administer the venom properly and destroy the Horcrux.
The ring was the hardest to hit, being the smallest. On the other claw, the knife's blade was wider than the ring and sliced it in half. The venom ensured it would never be repaired. The stone in it, the Deathly Hallows stone, popped free of the remains, seemingly unharmed by the venom except for a crack. Or, perhaps, the warping of the ring freed it from its holds before the venom could cause more damage to it.
He retrieved the stone from the box, then used his wand to levitate the other remains into one box. Later, he would deliver them to Dumbledore, to make what he could of the pieces.
Now, all he needed was the locket from Grimmauld Place, and then to deal with the horcrux in Harry.
-===(o|o)===-
That following Saturday the Gringotts Goblins showed up at Hogwarts Gates exactly at eight, as planned. The Headmaster was on hand to greet them, HtB and his friends were there, too, including Colin. The Headmaster had had the house-elves prepare them an early breakfast.
Harry was, of course, supervising from his post on HtB's head. He was, naturally, hiding behind a notice-me-not charm that both he and HtB knew the Goblins and Professors could see through.
They were doing that on purpose so no one would guess just how good HtB was at casting the spell, now. A small "sticky" spell that Hermione had looked up for Harry, in the past-future, made it much easier for him to keep his balance. He couldn't even remember the original purpose anymore. Copying those popular sticky-notes the muggles used? He really couldn't remember.
It had one side-effect that they hadn't realized, at first, in the summer. It improved HtB's posture as he tried to keep his head level and Harry evenly balanced at all times.
A Goblin named Jawbreaker led the team of eleven. All of them were outfitted as if for war — swords, spears, and knives — not harvesting a creature for ingredients. Unless all their tools were in the rucksacks they all wore.
By the time they arrived at the Entry Hall, practically all the Professors were there, as well as a large segment of the older students. Slytherin House made for an especially large group.
Apparently, the rumour that they would be going into the Chamber of Secrets to harvest a basilisk had somehow gotten out.
What a surprise.
The lead Goblin stopped and stared at Dumbledore. "We are harvesting a basilisk. Keep them away. We are not responsible if any of them die."
The Headmaster nodded genially.
"Your attention, please," Dumbledore said loudly. Silence spread quickly. "Gringotts has sent these Goblins to harvest a basilisk in Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets." He paused as frantic whispering broke out. He raised his hands and lowered them, making the motions for quiet, again. "The Chamber has not yet been surveyed by the staff for safety, potential traps, or other dangers. Once we have assured that it is safe, we will open the Chamber for everyone to visit." He looked around the crowded Entry Hall. "In the meantime, I must ask you to return to your breakfast."
"I heard that Potter killed the basilisk?" said Malfoy incredulously, pushing himself to the front of the Slytherin pack.
The Headmaster looked at him and smiled. "Why, yes, that is what happened. Mr. Potter somehow found the Chamber of Secrets, made his way inside to find the basilisk, and then killed it."
Malfoy looked at him, wide-eyed, then laughed and derisively said, "It can't have been a very big one, if so." Several of the other students besides the Slytherins chuckled.
Jawbreaker laughed contemptuously. He looked up the Headmaster. "Looks like you have an especially stupid crop of young this year," he growled out. He glanced at Malfoy who was looking affronted at the slur on his intelligence. "If it were small, Mr. Dumbledore could have brought the kill to us instead of us coming here," he said with a sneer.
Those who had been chuckling were now looking very uncertain of themselves. Others were affronted at the obvious insult to them.
He turned to HtB. "Which way," he harshly demanded.
HtB hesitated only long enough for Harry to tap out a go! He started for the stairs to the left of the Great Hall. The Goblins followed him, as did his friends and the Head of House Professors. The other Professors stayed behind to disperse the mob of students, and prevent any from trying to follow the others to the Chamber of Secrets entrance.
"The entrance," HtB explained as they started up the stairs, "is in a little-used Witches toilets room on the Second Floor. Hedwig says it used to be a large storage closet when the castle was built."
When they arrived, he knocked loudly on the door before stepping inside. "Myrtle? Are you here?"
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