September to December 1992, 2nd year
There wasn't much to second year that really caught Harry's attention – except, maybe, the new Defence Professor. Otherwise, it wasn't very different from first year at all and all that Harry could think of was how boring this would be. At least the library was vast and full of all kinds of reading material.
The person who had assigned all those Lockhart books was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, himself. This had been announced in the Daily Prophet a few days ago (and made Theodore choke on his morning tea) and Harry had read the books, so he was not surprised. By anything.
The man was a fraud. A joke. An imposter.
He was so weak. Or his magic was, anyway.
One might wonder why the old headmaster had hired the man, but the old headmaster was someone who got into trouble with people like the famous alchemist Nicolas Flamel, so was it really all that surprising? Though, to be fair, Harry didn't know what said trouble with Mr Flamel actually was about. The papers hadn't been very clear, more gossip than actual facts.
Lockhart did try to butter up to Harry, probably to siphon some of Harry's fame for his own, but after one cold stare from Harry and just the slightest nudge with his Gift, the peacock of a man left Harry alone. Harry might possibly have overdone it a little bit – although, honestly, he really hadn't done anything – because the peacock avoided him at all costs from then on, would never meet Harry's eyes, and always flinch whenever they crossed paths. It was kind of amusing.
Two months went by in absolute boredom.
Harry diligently worked on his Occlumency, even started teaching Theodore, and got bullied into doing his homework by Susan – but that was not nearly enough to keep him occupied. By the time Halloween came around, he was thinking about dismantling the castle, stripping it down to its magical foundation and see what havoc he could wreak with that. Theodore was of the opinion that he could try to discover all of Hogwarts secrets via normal exploration first, before he destroyed such an old and valuable magical construction. Susan did not like either idea and tried her best to find things for Harry to amuse himself with, but ultimately came up short when all her ideas failed. They were just too soft-hearted for Harry to find much distraction in.
But then Halloween happened. Very fitting day for something to happen, really. For one, there was a Death Day Party being thrown in the dungeons – Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffindor House Ghost, was celebrating his five-hundredth year of being dead. Harry stopped by out of sheer curiosity, but quickly realized that Theodore had been right when he had said that Death Day Parties were no fun at all. The music could hardly be called music (made of obnoxious screeching noises), the food was horribly spoilt, and the ghost of honour was terribly depressed because the Headless Hunt had denied him once again. Harry didn't see how he would be able to participate in any of the Hunt's activities, when all they did revolved around having a completely detached head and the Gryffindor Ghost's head was not, in fact, completely detached and would never be.
So Harry spent about five minutes at that party, before grabbing Theodore to join the feast upstairs. It was loud and boisterous, but more tolerable because of all the nice food and the cosy warmth that chased away the lingering chill from the dead. Harry was feeling rather content when they made their way back to the common room to retire for the evening.
He did not appreciate being called away from his soft bed and current reading material to go down to the common room and listen to their Head of House make an important speech about some chamber and secrets or whatever. Something about a cat. Someone writing on a wall. Sounded like normal teenage vandalism, if you asked Harry, just with added magic. His housemates didn't agree, though.
The blonde boy told an epic tale about how he had stumbled upon the scene and found the message written in blood and then he went on about blood purity and yada yada yada …
Harry wondered what the blonde boy had been doing on the second floor in the first place, when their common room was in the dungeons and a perfectly usable staircase to said dungeons was available right next to the Great Hall in which the Halloween Feast had been held. But who was he to judge the other boy?
Someone, Harry didn't know who it was and honestly didn't care, either, accused Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin. Harry didn't even know what that meant – aside from the obvious implication of being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, himself.
"Do you remember how you commanded the snakes at the very beginning of first year?" Theodore asked.
"I did?" Harry blinked. "You mean me being a Parselmouth automatically means I must be related to Salazar Slytherin, who was also a Parselmouth – because there obviously can't be others with the same ability?"
"It is hereditary."
Harry shrugged. "Still doesn't prove anything. Besides, even if I was one of his descendants that doesn't make me his heir. Surely mere blood relation doesn't include heirship? What does that even entail? What does that have to do with the writing everyone is going on about?"
"There is a legend," Theodore said slowly, "about a hidden chamber, the Chamber of Secrets, being left behind by Salazar Slytherin. Allegedly, he sealed a monster inside before he left the school after an argument with the other founders got out of hand. The monster he left behind for his heir to command, so it could cleanse the school of all those underserving of studying magic."
"And people think he meant Muggle-borns and they also think speaking Parseltongue automatically makes someone his heir."
Theodore inclined his head. "They think many things."
"They assume many things." Harry huffed. "How ridiculous. As if I could be bothered to search for some legendary chamber I never heard about before to gain some unknown monster I might be able to control, so I can terrorize the school. Although looking for the chamber might entertain me for a short while. Anyway, if I wanted to terrorize the school, I wouldn't need a monster. I could very well do that entirely on my own."
The corner of Theodore's mouth quirked up, just a bit. "Of course, you could."
"Way too much effort," Harry emphasized.
"Indeed," Theodore agreed.
The rest of the school did not agree.
Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw did not know about Harry's ability, of course, and Slytherin would never tell, but they were more hostile towards his house in general – obviously, the Heir of Slytherin must be in Slytherin and no one liked Slytherin, anyway.
"I'm just checking," Susan said the very next morning, looking at Harry with a serious expression on her face. "It is not you, is it?"
"It's not me," Harry said.
Susan nodded. "I thought so. You wouldn't need whatever horror is hidden in the Chamber and it would take too much effort on your part to go looking for it in the first place. Unless you somehow gained knowledge of the Chamber's location beforehand."
Harry grinned and turned to Theodore. "She knows me so well."
Theodore only scowled.
o
Some Gryffindor got petrified. According to Susan, the boy had been a fan of Harry's and following him around for weeks. He had completely escaped Harry's notice, so he must have been very non-threatening and no more annoying than everyone else. This Gryffindor got petrified the same evening as Harry was tripped down some stairs, narrowly escaped a serious injury and then heard a weird whispering voice that sounded very hungry and very bloodthirsty but also very tired.
It was a bit too much of a coincidence, so the next day, during their first break, Harry dragged Theodore and Susan into an abandoned classroom, racked his brain for a name he didn't want to remember, and then called, "Dobby!"
There was a loud crack and a trembling house-elf appeared in front of them. "What can Dobby do for Harry Potter, sir?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Not trip me down the stairs, for one."
"You were tripped down the stairs?" Theodore hissed. "Why did you not tell me?"
"I was fine," Harry said dismissively, still glaring at the trembling elf. "Although that incident could have ended deadly."
Theodore furrowed his brows, while Susan looked at him in open concern. Harry caught their eyes and shook his head slightly. That incident could have been deadly, but not for Harry. Harry had experience with falling down lots of flights of stairs from before he had discovered his Gift. Harry also had a Gift. But the elf didn't need to know that.
"Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life!" the elf wailed. "Not kill him, never kill him! Dobby had wanted to keep Harry Potter from arriving at Hogwarts. Dobby had wished for Harry Potter to miss the train. So Dobby hid and watched and waited to seal the gateway, but Harry Potter never appeared."
Of course Harry hadn't used the barrier at King's Cross. Mr Nott had apparated Theodore and Harry directly onto the platform, which was much more convenient than accessing it from the Muggle side.
"Dobby had to iron his hands anyway," the elf continued, "because Dobby was not supposed to leave the house. Then Dobby thought he could have Harry Potter get injured during a dangerous Quidditch game and sent back home. Only, Harry Potter never appeared to the Quidditch game, either!"
Because Harry did not enjoy Quidditch and would never waste his time watching a game. He raised a hand to rub at his temple. This house-elf was grating on his nerves.
"Did I not explicitly tell you to leave me alone, Dobby?" He lowered his voice. "Did I not tell you that I am not some kind of saviour whose life you need to concern yourself with? Did I not tell you that I have no need for your misplaced concern for my safety, because I am powerful enough in my own right?" He had to actively stop himself from growling. "Tell me what you know. What does a random, petrified student have to do with my safety? Is this about the Chamber of Secrets?"
The elf looked at him with huge, watery eyes, his body shaking violently, and then reached for the nearest object to hit his own head with.
"Everything, then," Harry said. "Someone opened the Chamber of Secrets, deciding to petrify some random students, and that someone is after my life."
"Not random," Theodore said. "Colin Creevey is a Muggle-born."
"How do you even know that?"
"I know all pure-blood families."
"All British pure-blood families, you mean," Harry said, "which does not make you an expert in half-bloods."
"Knowledge is everything," Theodore replied.
"Fine," Harry snapped. "So whoever is behind this is most likely some pure-blood in possession of excessive knowledge about everyone's blood status. That narrows it down quite a bit." He turned to the terrified house-elf. "Dobby, give me your hand." The elf obeyed. "As it appears that my first warning was not sufficient, binding magic will have to do."
Three pairs of wide eyes stared at Harry.
"You will not endanger my life directly or indirectly in any form. You will not interfere with me or my life or anything that has to do with me directly or indirectly in any form. You will not concern yourself with my life, my safety, or me directly or indirectly in any form. In fact, it would be best if both of our very existences would never, ever come in any contact whatsoever anymore."
He dropped the elf's hand.
"That should be enough."
The elf was crying now.
"Shoo," Harry said. "Go away."
There was a loud crack and then – silence.
"That was very unkind of you," Susan said eventually, her voice quiet and hurt. "The poor thing."
"Did you somehow miss the part were that 'poor thing' tried to kill him?" Theodore hissed. "What do you –"
Harry held up his hand and Theodore immediately closed his mouth. He turned to Susan, his expression and tone as neutral as he could manage. "That elf is mad. He's not right in the head. I met him before, talked to him, convinced him that I could take care of myself. But that obviously didn't work. I don't want to know what he would have come up with next, so I intervened. No harm has come to him from me."
"No direct physical harm, you mean," Susan said sharply. "He had to punish himself because of you."
"That was his own decision."
"He was terrified out of his mind."
Harry shrugged. "He knew what kind of person I am. He should have expected that kind of reaction."
Susan put her face in her hands. "You are the worst. Kindness doesn't hurt you, you know? Nor does it inconvenience you in any way."
"Kindness doesn't give me the results I want."
"Did you even try?"
Harry sighed and then gently put a hand on her shoulder, Theodore tracking the motion with narrowed eyes. "I was civil with him at first, perfectly polite. But I quickly came to realize during our first conversation that there is no reasoning with him, because he his mad and you cannot reason with a mad house-elf."
"All the more reason to be kind to him," Susan replied. "It's not his fault."
"Susan," Harry said firmly. "I stand by my decision. If you don't like it that's fine. If you can't accept it that's also fine. I am willing to listen to your opinion and I am willing to consider any advice you might have, but if I still stand by my decision and in the end, you have to accept that. Leave it be or leave altogether."
"Urgh, you're so – I should have stuck with my Hufflepuff friends. They are so much more reasonable."
"I am reasonable," Harry countered. "We just have different definitions of the word."
Susan threw her hands in the air. "Yes, clearly."
"So. Are we okay now?"
Susan crossed her arms and scowled at him. "For the record, I am not okay with what you did to that poor elf. But yes, we are 'okay'."
Harry nodded, smiling. "Good. That's good."
"Now, excuse me," Susan said, "I have to get to my next class." She left without another word.
Harry looked at the door, then glanced at Theodore.
"You were hoping that was it, weren't you?" Harry said lightly. "You were hoping she would leave us for good."
Theodore remained silent for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he said, "Maybe."
Harry smiled and decided not to say any more about it.
o
A mysterious monster was terrorizing the school.
Well, not really, but that was what Lockhart said when he announced his plan to open a Duelling Club.
A mysterious monster was terrorizing the school and the students should learn how to defend themselves – and who better to teach them than their brilliant, famous, amazing Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart?
Lockhart was clever enough not to put his name on the notice, so Harry had decided to check it out at first. It only took for Lockhart to appear, make his speech and be thrown backwards by a mere Disarming Charm from Professor Snape – it wasn't supposed to do that, it was a Disarming Charm – for Harry to turn on his heel and leave.
He had a much better time dragging his friends to some abandoned classroom to practice on their own.
The very next day, a Hufflepuff from their year got petrified. And a ghost. Harry had no idea how that worked. Nor did he know how they were supposed to use the Mandrake Cure Thingy on an intangible being. Although, he had seen them use a fan to waft the ghost to the Hospital Wing and coming in contact with the apparition of a ghost made you feel like being doused in ice – so maybe they weren't completely intangible.
Susan was terrified.
Harry pointed out that Susan was not a Muggle-born (after checking with Theodore that the newest victim was, in fact, really a Muggle-born) and, therefore, had nothing to fear. For some reason that didn't cheer her up at all.
She went home for the holidays full of concern and worry and asked them for the umpteenth time whether they really wanted to stay behind with some unknown monster on the loose and then urged them to be careful and please not run into danger voluntarily. Harry didn't know why she gave him a very stern look when she said the last one. Theodore seemed to find that rather funny.
Nothing happened, of course.
The blonde boy and his minions stayed behind, too, which was a bit of an annoyance – he had been loudly insisting during the past weeks for the Heir to reveal themselves, so he could help them, and he kept throwing Harry unsubtle looks – but he had long since learned his lesson and left Harry (and, by extension, Theodore) well alone.
Christmas was otherwise enjoyable. There was just something about the nearly empty castle that enticed Harry to wander around, look for yet more secrets to discover and magic to explore. He had gotten used to the sheer supremacy of all the magic that made up the castle - though it still sometimes caused him headaches - and it never failed to fascinate him.
He briefly entertained the idea of looking for the Chamber of Secrets, then dismissed it as too much effort. If he stumbled upon it – good. If he didn't – whatever. He had no idea, not a single clue, apart from the obvious 'Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth', and the castle was enormous. It just wasn't worth it.
They should have closed the school at this point, probably. Should have done something, at least. That was, the adults should have done something – the teachers and the government people ("The Ministry of Magic," Theodore said, only slightly exasperated.) and whoever else was responsible for running a magical school and making sure the children were safe. But this was Hogwarts and nothing at Hogwarts was safe. Some unknown, mysterious monster terrorizing the school was nothing. Nothing at all. Not noteworthy, definitely not worth closing the school and sending everyone home until the matter was dealt with and the students weren't in mortal peril anymo– well, any more than usual.
Last time, 'a Mudblood had died', the blonde boy said. Harry had forgotten he and his minions had stayed behind, after that initial annoyance at them staying over the holidays - until he spoke up one evening, lounging on the biggest sofa in the common room, warming his feet by the fire in the hearth, picking a little giftbox apart that someone had accidentally left behind. 'Last time' meant around fifty years ago and that was before the blonde boy's father's time at Hogwarts, so his father refused to tell him more so he wouldn't look suspicious. Harry remembered the blonde boy being present on the first crime scene, the writing and the cat, despite having no reason to be on that floor at that time. Harry thought about the blonde boy loudly proclaiming his hatred of Muggle-born children and how he longed to help whoever was behind the attacks. Harry though the blonde boy was lucky no one paid any attention to his blabbering. No one with brains in their heads. His minions didn't count.
So Harry listened to the blonde boy going on and on and on and filed away any information that might prove to be useful for later and then promptly forgot all about it. The blonde boy didn't deserve to have his blabbering be remembered.