This chapter was written in a style very different to my current one. It has taken a long time editing it into something I enjoy more, but it still doesn't feel perfect. Still, I'm sure you'll all enjoy it just the same.
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Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Riddle's Plight
VI. Serpentine Punishment
"But I don't want to." wrote Harry desperately, "I could learn so much more from you, especially if Lockhart's teaching -"
Inky black words, long and thin, covered the page before Harry had lifted the tip of his quill.
"There is much to be gained from experience, Harry. Even I can not substitute for such a thing."
"But I have practice." Harry argued, "I used to duel -"
Voldemort. Her.
"And I have no doubt you proved exceptionally competent." said Emily, saving him the pain of finishing his sentence, "But you have not dueled since then, and never properly against those your age. This will be an excellent opportunity to see how you measure up to your peers."
But that was the problem.
Nearly a month had passed since Creevey's petrification. If there had been any doubt as to whether or not Harry was the Heir of Slytherin before, there was definitely none now. People openly stared at him as he passed through the halls, many of them glaring or whispering cruel words at his back.
It's like being back at the Dursley's all over again.
Countless hours had been spent alone, or perhaps practicing with Emily within the confines of his dormitory. Daphne had been there, too; she made for rather enjoyable company, far more so than Harry would've expected. They would wander around the library or the Hogwarts grounds, occasionally joined by Nott.
Aside from them, however, Harry felt awfully alone.
It wasn't as though anything had really changed. He hadn't every really bothered to hang around anyone else, nor had he ever really wanted to. But now that the choice was stripped from him -
It's not the same. It feels different. Feels worse.
It was a lucky thing that both the very eldest and the youngest of the students had, for the most part, left him alone. The older students, it seemed, still didn't believe a second year capable of such magics.
And the younger students are scared I'll go for them next if they say anything.
Harry grit his teeth, his palms curling into tight, cruel fists.
Idiots.
Those students, however, made up an incredibly small minority of the Hogwarts population. The rest seemed more than fine with assuming Harry's guilt - not that Harry could truly blame them.
I was separated from the rest of the school on both occasions. If I was them I'd think it was me, too.
But it was the Slytherins who had changed the most. They had always left him alone, at least for the most part -
One of the few upsides of being the boy-who-lived, no doubt.
But now, things were . . . different. The same - almost exactly the same - yet so very different.
They still left him alone. None of them said a word to him, and no one treated him any differently.
But whenever they thought he wasn't looking, or when they were walking away, Harry saw something. It was faint, hidden far beneath the depths of their eyes - but it was there -
Curiosity. Wonder, and a smidgen of respect.
Harry frowned, toying with the quill his fingers wrapped around.
Being the Heir of Slytherin isn't something to respect. Not because you're hurting people, anyway.
It made Harry almost glad that Draco Malfoy still treated him with contempt, and disgust, and disapproval -
But even he's wary. I've seen it, in his eyes.
Either way, a Dueling Club - one that took place with all four houses in the Great Hall - was the absolute last thing Harry wanted a part of at the moment. But despite Harry's attempts to explain the situation, Emily would not hear a word of it.
Harry trudged out the Slytherin common room an hour later, Nott and Daphne on either side.
"I didn't think you'd come." noted Nott, watching as Harry plodded up a flight of stairs.
"Neither did I." Harry muttered dully.
"It is for the best." Daphne's voice, soft and cool, pressed against his ears, "I don't see how it couldn't be at least slightly worthwhile."
"I can." Harry muttered darkly, an image of Lockhart brandishing his wand swimming through his mind -
"He can't be teaching us." Nott assured them both as they approached the hall, "Especially not at a time like this. They wouldn't let him."
"It's most likely Professor Flitwick or Professor Snape." agreed Daphne, "Flitwick was a dueling champion, and Snape is supposed to be incredibly proficient as well."
"Who told you that?"
"My parents." revealed Daphne, "After learning one of our teachers last year was possessed -"
She paused, her eyes flicking to Harry. Nott looked back and forth between the pair of them, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Well, I decided to ask them about our professors before this school year." Daphne finished softly.
Harry nodded, lost in thought.
A few minutes later the trio found themselves in the Great Hall, surrounded by hundreds of excited students. The four tables had been removed, a long rectangular stage separating the room in two. It was draped in a velvety carpet, thousands of candles hovering overhead.
Harry and Daphne trailed after Nott, the former trying his hardest to ignore the countless eyes that slammed against the side of his skull.
It's been like this since you turned eleven, there's no real difference -
Nott's irritated groan drew him from his admittedly disenchanting thoughts.
"Of course it's him." he muttered darkly, "Because why wouldn't it be."
Harry looked up. Gilderoy Lockhart was waltzing across the stage, adorned in his favourite lilac robes. To his side stood Snape, who appeared just as pleased with the arrangement as Nott.
"Gather round, gather round!" exclaimed Lockhart, beckoning for silence with a wave of his arm, "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!
"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works!"
Lockhart cleared his throat, grinning at a few of the students as he strode across the stage once more.
"Allow me to introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile as he waved towards the man, "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"
I honestly don't know who I want to lose more. Lockhart, probably.
If Nott's cruel smile meant anything, he agreed.
The horde of students watched as Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other, bowing respectfully. Lockhart's movements, stiff and slow, were a stark contrast to Professor Snape's. A moment later they stood upright, their wands raised like swords in front of them.
"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd, "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."
"Snape better." muttered Nott. Daphne rolled her eyes.
"One - two - three -"
"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of scarlet light flooded the Great Hall. When Harry's vision returned a second later, he saw Lockhart flying off the stage, his wand soaring into Snape's outstretched hand.
"Happy?" asked Daphne, watching with pursed lips as Lockhart stumbled to his feet.
"Smiling from cheek to cheek." muttered Nott, "At least I've gotten something out of this."
"Well, there you have it!" called Lockhart from beside the stage, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Professor Snape. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Severus, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . ."
Lockhart fell silent, nervously looking away from the downright murderous expression upon Snape's face. Gulping slightly, he turned to face the students.
"But enough demonstrating!" he yelled, gazing around the hall, "I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me -"
"And that's my cue to leave." whispered Nott, pocketing his wand.
"What?" Harry hissed, "There's no way you can just leave."
"Why not?" asked Nott, "I'm not going to learn anything from the duffer anyway."
"Yeah, but you could see how you measure up to everyone in our year."
"What's the point? The only person I'd lose to is you."
"Is that so?" said Daphne with narrowed eyes.
"I said what I said." Nott shrugged, "And my grandfather was a dueling champion too, in case you've forgotten."
Daphne scoffed, making her way towards the front to be partnered up. They watched her for a moment before Nott turned back to Harry.
"If you want to leave, just leave." he said, yawning, "You can join me in the library, if you want."
"I can't." groaned Harry.
Emily wouldn't like if I did.
Nott shrugged.
"Your loss, then."
With that, the boy made his way out of the Great Hall, waving cheerfully all the while. Harry fingers curved, and he sent an admittedly rude hand gesture the boy's way. That only seemed to amuse him.
"If you're finished, Potter," came a sneer from behind him, "You can partner Mr. Malfoy."
Harry spun around, coming face to face with the hook-nosed, greasy haired Potions Professor. The man watched him with narrowed eyes, motioning towards the platinum blonde before moving away. The boy glared at him, watching his every movement as the students all got into position.
"Face your partners!" called Lockhart moments later, now back on the platform, "And bow!"
Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, neither taking their eyes off the other.
"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart, "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one . . . two . . . three!"
Harry ducked out of the way before Lockhart had even finished counting. He watched as a jet of violet light soared past his ear, slamming into a student just behind him. Cruel, oppressive heat whispered in his ear. Harry felt as it slowly faded away, his fingers combing through his hair. It was slightly singed.
Harry glanced up. Malfoy was watching him carefully, his eyes taunting without words. Harry's palms balled into fists.
Two can play that game.
"Flipendo!"
Draco moved to jump out of the way, but the spell managed to hit his lower half. The boy spun through the air, landing on the ground several meters away.
"Now, now, I said disarm only -" yelled Lockhart as Draco got to his feet, but neither of them were listening anymore.
"Relashio!" Draco bellowed.
Harry stepped to the side, flicking his wand angrily in the boy's direction whilst muttering under his breath. A blast of air slammed into Draco's chest, but the stubborn boy pushed himself up once more, pointing his wand at Harry.
"Glacius!" roared Draco, breathing heavily. A blast of cold air burst from the tip of his wand.
"Clypeo." Harry hissed, watching as a thin bronze hue surrounded him. He dispelled the shield quickly, pointing his wand at Malfoy once more. The boy stared back at him, his grey eyes narrowed and his wand raised. Harry felt a touch of heat rise in his chest, coiling around him like molten ropes and barbed wires.
"Incendio!" he shouted angrily, pouring in far more magic than was necessary. Bright blue flames shot from his wand, scorching the air before him. Malfoy scampered out of the way, the flames licking the cobblestoned floors in an enraged fashion. Despite the blonde boy's slowing movement, Harry felt as though he could go on for hours without breaking a sweat.
And if he doesn't stop pissing me off, I will.
"Now, seriously -" shouted Lockhart from somewhere behind him, but Harry paid no mind. Both he and Malfoy vaguely registered the students surrounding them, their eyes glued to the other. Draco slowly lifted his wand, and then -
"Flipendo!"
Harry slashed his wand through the air, sending the spell back towards Malfoy. The boy flew through the air, crashing against the floor with a loud thud.
I didn't think that would work.
Harry watched as Malfoy slowly raised his wand, raising his own in turn -
"Enough." said a firm voice. Professor Snape loomed behind him. The greasy haired man stared down at Harry with narrowed eyes, his lips tight and thin, "Cast one more spell, Potter, and you shall see yourself in detention for a month."
Harry slowly lowered his wand. Professor Snape watched him for a few moments before sneering. He turned around, facing the countless students that stood rooted to the floor, their eyes flickering between Draco and Harry.
"I wasn't aware you were told to stop prac -" began Snape before a loud yell pierced through the air.
"Serpensortia!"
Harry watched as a cobra shot from the end of Malfoy's wand, falling heavily to the ground. It quickly raised itself, looking around as the crowd broke into pandemonium. Slowly but surely, the snake turned to face Harry.
I'm going to kill Malfoy when this is over.
"Don't move, Potter," said Snape almost lazily, raising his wand, "I'll get rid of it -"
"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. The blonde man slashed his wand through the air, yelling something Harry couldn't hear -
A loud crack echoed through the hall, sending the snake spiraling across the room. It landed less than a meter away from Harry, slamming loudly against the ground. Hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Harry and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. Harry raised his wand, but he was not as fast as the snake -
"No!" Harry hissed, clenching his eyes as he stumbled backwards. He waited for a searing pain to flood through his body, yet nothing came. Harry slowly opened his eyes.
The hall was dead silent. Every single student in sight stared at Harry in disbelief, and some in poorly concealed horror. Snape, who had moved to properly vanish the snake, paled instantly. The Potions Professor turned to him, and something flashed before Harry's eyes -
" . . . he doesn't understand what it's like, lying there, day after day, watching people press their ugly faces in on you . . ."
Harry forced his head to turn, breathing heavily.
Empty your mind, empty it -
Snape was watching him very carefully now. The man's eyes narrowed, and his pale fingers tightened around the wand in his palm. A sinking feeling was growing in Harry's stomach.
Malfoy was still lying on the ground before him. Stormy grey eyes slid from Harry to the snake and back again. Harry's gaze lowered. The snake lay with its head along the floor, looking at his feet.
"Didn't mean it. Wouldn't have done it, didn't know. Sorry, I'm sorry -"
Harry stumbled backwards. Emerald eyes nervously jumped across the hall, landing on Snape, then Lockhart, then the sea of students. A girl with braided blonde hair and sharp, icy eyes loomed forward. Daphne was watching him too, her lips parted and her eyes wide with worry.
Without saying a word, Harry stumbled out the Great Hall, not daring to look at anyone else.
-(xXx)-
I'm a Parselmouth.
Harry shivered, watching with unseeing eyes as his quill slid across the surface of the diary. His words, scrawled and untidy, covered the yellowing paged. Bits of ink trickled down the pages, but they vanished long before they could reach his green and silver bedsheets. Harry ignored it all, breathing heavily.
I'm A Parselmouth, I'm a Parselmouth, I'm a Parselmouth . . .
He'd been a fool. He had talked to the snake in zoo - how could he not have realised?
But it felt like a dream. It didn't feel real. It never did -
"Not until I got my Hogwarts Letter." Harry murmured, "It always felt too good to be true . . ."
She's one too. Everyone knows she was - is -
"Ouch!"
Harry looked down. His quill had snapped in two, the edge cutting a thin line in his skin. Harry hastily grabbed another, finishing his abnormally long passage to Emily on what had just happened back in the Great Hall.
Silence stretched on for minutes. Harry sat in silence, his back pressed against his bed as he stared out his window and into the Great Lake. No one swum by this time - only the eerie green light graced Harry with its presence.
At long last, inky black words joined the viridescent light.
"I'm sorry for asking you to go." she scribbled, her words stiff and heavy, "You don't have to anymore. I should've know better. I'll teach you dueling myself. It isn't much, but it's the best I can offer. I'm sorry."
"It's alright." wrote Harry sincerely, "I shouldn't have lost control. It isn't your fault."
"I'm aware," she wrote slowly, "but I'm still sorry for the part I played. We'll make sure things like this don't happen ever again. That means controlling your gifts, too - I can teach you what I know about Parseltongue, if you like."
"I'd like that. Thanks."
"Anytime, Harry."
-(xXx)-
The pair leaned against the dark bookshelf that pressed against the common room wall, staring out the large glass window to their left. The endless depths of the Great Lake glowed darkly, disturbed only by the occasional Grindylow. Those who shared the common room with them stayed far away - why, Harry didn't know or care in the slightest.
"I know it isn't you, you know."
"I know."
But it's nice to hear it.
Daphne's gaze slid across his features, and she smiled softly. She gently leaned her head against the bookshelf behind them, her eyes shifting from Harry back to the window.
"It still scares me, though." Harry admitted, fiddling with the hem of his robes. Daphne turned to face him once more. Harry forced himself to meet her gaze.
"She's one too." he murmured, "The only other in the world. The only place aside from Britain to birth Parselmouths is India, but one hasn't been found in centuries."
"You looked it up in the library, didn't you?" asked Daphne quietly.
Harry nodded.
"I've heard rumours of Parselmouths in America." whispered Daphne, "Isolt Sayre - she was a founder of Ilvermorny, the American wizarding school. One of her daughters was a Parselmouth, I think. The other was a squib, though. I don't know if she could pass the ability down."
"I read about them, too." his fingers traced his silver-green tie, and Harry looked up, "They were descendants of the Gaunts. According to the book I read, the Gaunts seem to think they're direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin."
"They are." agreed Daphne, "But their line died out about fifty years ago."
"So did Sayre and her daughter's." said Harry, "Only they died centuries ago. Her daughter - the magical one, that is - never had kids."
It's just us. Just the two of us.
"I know it doesn't matter." admitted Harry, "Not really, anyway. But it does. She took everything from me. Every fucking thing."
A high, cruel ringing echoed in his skull. Harry felt his palms ball to fists, and he grit his teeth angrily. His front most tooth cut into his mouth, and a drop of scarlet blood stained his bottom lip.
"And then she comes back." Harry continued, "Back to life - back into my life. But I didn't hate her. Not until - not until I knew. I just . . . I just thought she - she was -"
"- she was your friend." Daphne finished softly. Harry nodded.
"She taught me. She helped me. She gave me food, she helped me sneak into the kitchens, she made me better. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, but -"
No one's ever done much for me before.
"I just want to know why." Harry whispered, "She could have killed me whenever she wanted -"
"There was the stone." Daphne didn't look him in the eyes, her head ducked and her words low and faint.
"Yeah, there was." muttered Harry, "There was the stone . . ."
She would have needed the stone. She couldn't risk me dying . . . it would have attracted too much attention . . .
But if that truly was the case, why would she teach him? Why help him? She was his enemy, she had been his enemy for almost as long as he lived. Why help him grow more and more powerful -
It means she controls what I know. It means she could beat me easily.
A sinking feeling grew in Harry's stomach. Daphne, her eyes still on him, held his hand reassuringly. Harry smiled at her, trying his hardest to hide his feelings. It almost worked - his Occlumency lessons with Emily, as slow as they were, were bearing fruit.
But I've got Emily. Voldemort isn't my only source of knowledge.
Still, it wasn't enough. He'd need more than Emily, more than her. The restricted section, his Professors, perhaps even the knowledge the Potter family no doubt possessed. Anything and everything else would be welcomed as well.
He would get stronger. More powerful. He would meet her one day, as equals.
And he would surpass her.
He would make sure of it.
-(xXx)-
'- capable of shattering the bone. It is a spell to be used with extreme caution.'
"You know, even for me, that's reckless."
Harry frowned, his gaze sliding away from the book in his hands and onto one Theodore Nott.
A day had passed since the disaster at the dueling club. Harry had spent most of it tucked away in the library. Dozens of new spells had already been stored away in his mind, some more . . . questionable than others. He hadn't tried them yet, of course - but Harry had a funny feeling that they'd come quite naturally to him.
Besides, at least it helps me take my mind off things.
Harry glanced at one of the books just barely poking out from the depths of his book bag. 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' was one of the books required of first year students, regardless of the fact that the eleven year old students couldn't take Care of Magical Creatures if they wanted to.
It also contained quite a bit of information on rare and highly dangerous magical creatures.
Creatures like an Acromantula, for example.
Harry had poured through it more than a few time in the last month. He hadn't much liked what he'd found.
Of course they can speak fluent English. Because why wouldn't they.
Harry shoved the book further into the depth of his bag.
Just one more point against Hagrid. It's probably the voice I heard on Halloween.
How such a thing could be the case, Harry had no idea. It shouldn't even be able to traverse the school without being spotted - they were, according to his textbook, rather large creatures. As for how it might petrify someone, Harry wasn't sure - but, then again, none of the creatures in 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' seemed capable of petrifying people in the way the students had been. Even the gorgon (which had initially seemed to be a promising candidate) was now looking more and more unlikely, for it turned its victims to stone rather than rendering them in a sort of catatonic state.
Either way, Harry had given up on trying to find out anything relating to the Chamber of Secrets or the monster it held. It would be better to simply lose himself in his studying. He had to get stronger; distractions would prove to be meaningless, in the end.
Emily was right. I would've been better off not knowing.
"It's fine." muttered Harry, stacking another, less contentious book upon the tome of rather questionable spells, "It's not like Madam Pince can see the cover."
The book was one Harry had taken from the Restricted section within minutes of entering the library. Why it was still in the library, Harry had no clue - he doubted someone like Dumbledore would have been pleased to see it.
But I need it. Voldemort probably knows everything in this already. I have to catch up.
But no matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't make heads or tails of the countless spells stashed away in the back. They were too complex, or perhaps required power or a mental strength he did not yet possess -
I'll get there eventually. I have to.
"How'd you get it?" asked Nott quietly, "The cloak?"
Harry nodded slowly.
He had shown both Daphne and Nott the cloak a few weeks prior. They had found it interesting, but, as Daphne had pointed out, invisibility could be achieved by other means.
Just not any that I can achieve yet.
"It probably isn't smart to be caught with that, though." noted Nott, "Especially not now, of all times."
"I'm aware." muttered Harry, "I won't get caught."
Waving goodbye to Nott, Harry packed the two books into his bag, closing it carefully before slinging it upon his left shoulder. He quickly stalked away from the table, his eyes on the windows. Dozens of students littered the Hogwarts grounds. From up here, they all looked like small, miniscule dots -
Wham.
Harry walked into something very large and solid. His bag tumbled from his grasp, but he swiped a hand through the air, catching it before it hit the floor.
"Sorry - oh, hello Hagrid." said Harry, looking up warily at the giant man.
Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.
"All righ' there, Harry?" asked Hagrid gently, beaming down at him, "Been a while since I last saw yeh!"
Almost a month. Ever since I saw Emily's memory, to be precise.
"Er - sorry about that." apologized Harry quickly, "I've been busy."
"Don' worry 'bout it." boomed Hagrid, waving a ginormous hand, "Besides, it's payin' off, isn't it? I've heard yeh been doin' pretty well in yer classes!"
"Well enough." said Harry with a shrug. He chanced a look down, his eyes falling upon the corpse of the blood-covered rooster, "Hagrid, what's with the dead chicken?"
Hagrid gently held up the rooster, cradling its body in his arms.
"Killed." he said sadly, "Second one this term, too. I dunno what's doin it - either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, I reckon - but I ain't gonna just let 'em keep dying. I need the headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop though, so here I am.
"It's a cryin' shame, too." Hagrid rearranged the rooster's corpse in his arms, cradling it, "I mean, I know they can be a bit annoyin' in the early mornin' - but they're nice enough. They ain't done nothin' bad to anybody."
Harry watched as Hagrid held the dead chicken closer to his chest, singing it a lullaby. It sounded awfully similar to the one Harry had heard him singing to the midnight black dragon's egg nearly a year ago.
It's not him. It can't be.
But if Hagrid was not the Heir of Slytherin, who was? How could Emily, of all people, be wrong?
Or maybe she isn't. Maybe Hagrid just couldn't control the Acromantula. It wouldn't have been his fault then.
"Yeh alright, Harry?" asked Hagrid slowly.
"Er - yeah." Harry frowned, slinging his bookbag properly across his shoulder, "I'd better get going. I'll see you around, Hagrid."
With that, Hagrid waved goodbye before continuing through the library and out into the adjacent hall. When he was finally out of sight, Harry turned around, making his way towards the exit that led back towards the Slytherin common room.
"- off with you two." snapped an angry voice from somewhere in front of him.
Harry looked up. Draco Malfoy was sat upon a large mahogany table, glaring at the two large boys sitting in chairs opposite him. Harry leaned closer.
"You can't be seen with people like her." hissed Draco, his eyes narrowed, "You shouldn't even be near her. She's a blood-traitor."
"I don't remember being near her -" began Crabbe uncertainly.
"Well, you were." Malfoy stood up, pacing back and forth alongside the table, "Honestly, you two forget everything these days. You probably don't remember missing my Quidditch match either, do you Crabbe?"
The boy slowly shook his head.
"Well, don't get near her again." Malfoy warned, sneering, "Or you might have more than me to worry about. Ginny Weasley, of all people. Honestly."
With that, Malfoy slammed an intricately patterned bookbag onto the table, moaning about the amount of work he still had to complete.
Harry looked away, walking along the longest aisle that led towards the large oaks doors. A few Gryffindor fourth years sat at one table, watching his every step. A group of timid Hufflepuffs sat off to one side, and a number of studious Ravenclaws sat nearby. Ginny Weasley sat alone at a table apart from the others, watching him with an odd, familiar expression.
Harry paused. Ginny's head was tilted slightly to the side. Her gaze felt soft and smooth, and the expression on her face did not suit her. She watched him curiously, not so much as blinking.
"Closer . . . I smell it . . . flesh . . . meat . . . BLOOD!"
Heat swirled through his veins, and Harry spun around.
It's the same voice, the same one from Halloween -
"Hungry . . . so hungry . . ."
Harry sprinted out of the library, his bag swinging wildly behind him as he chased after the voice. Ginny Weasley watched him fade into the distance, her eyes as wide as Galleons.
The youngest Weasley child rose from her table, her crimson locks glowing beneath the light that shined through the library windows. Her eyes, brown in color, flashed scarlet for a split second - a trick of the light, no doubt. Small, childish fingers slid across the cover of a battered textbook. She slid it shut, pocketing it before making her way out the library.
-(xXx)-
Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, breathing heavily as he ran faster than he ever had before. It was dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane.
I can't have lost it . . . I have to see, I need to know . . .
Harry dashed up another flight of stairs, the ghost of the voice pulling him onwards. Though it was faint at best, Harry could tell he had heard something like it before.
With my luck, it'll be the Acromantula from Riddle's memory.
But there was no angry clicking noise, nor the scuttling of long, heavy legs. In fact, aside from the voice and his clattering feet, the halls were devoid of sound.
"Closer . . . closer . . .CLOSER!"
The voice slammed into his ears, and Harry bolted. He sprinted past a corner adjacent to the second floor girl's lavatory. He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor. Groaning slightly, Harry pushed himself off the floor, glancing upwards.
A second later, he wished he hadn't.
Something cold and timid shivered in his chest. Harry's eyes fell upon the fallen form of a small girl adorned in black and yellow. Her limp form seemed frozen in place, her unseeing eyes staring upwards with alarm at something that wasn't there. Harry felt his heart sinking in his chest.
Something flickered in the corner of his eyes. Harry turned, and his heart sank further.
No. This isn't happening.
It was Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor tower. His once translucent form was now black and smokey, floating a few inches above the floor. He too gazed off with wide eyes - though at what, Harry had no idea.
Reality slammed into him at once. Harry shot up, looking around wildly.
I need to go. They won't believe me this time.
The world was spinning now; every sound, every noise within earshot was suddenly dialed to eleven. Harry could hear his heartbeat quicken, and he could hear the clattering of small, long legs. As Harry's eyes landed upon the line of spiders scuttling out an open window, the sound of his heartbeat only grew more oppressive.
Occlumency. Occlumency, before it's too late -
But it was. From his right, a door shot open with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.
"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him, "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking -"
Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted the Hufflepuff girl and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"
No. Don't -
Ice crept in his veins. His breath left him, and Harry's palms balled into crude fists.
Peeves sank to the floor, his hands wrapped around his neck. His pale white skin now had a faintly purple tint to it, and his eyes wide with unadulterated fear. There was no humour within them now.
No. Stop, stop it now -
Peeves dropped to the ground at once. The Poltergeist slowly pushed himself off the floor and back into the air. Pale white eyes stared back at Harry, the mischievous smile having long slipped from his features. He hovered for a moment - by the next, he had zoomed through the nearest wall and out of sight.
"There he is!" shrieked a pompous voice.
Harry, who had been staring at where Peeves had once been, turned to face the shrill voice. By the side of the hall stood Ernie Macmillan, surrounded by countless others.
Harry glanced around, his fingers twitching as he took in just how filled the previously empty corridor had become. It seemed as though half the school was here now; Peeves clearly had a loud voice.
But it was not the students that alarmed Harry, not even the way they whispered darkly to one another whilst watching him with fear.
Professor McGonagall slowly stepped forward, her pointed emerald witch's hat slightly askew. She carefully took in Harry's every move, her wand held aloft. She waved it gently, and a loud bang rang through the corridor, silencing the majority of those within.
"Caught in the act!" Macmillan continued to shriek, a finger pointed dramatically at Harry, "You won't get away with it now, Potter!"
Harry turned to him, forcefully biting down on his lip. He felt the gentle trickling of blood within the inside of his cheek, and the sharp sting that accompanied it.
He's not worth it.
His heavy, angry breathing slowed, but his glare did not waver. He met Ernie's eyes, trying his hardest to convey just how he felt. A soft, almost unseen emerald tint glowed within his iris, swirling like the jade currents of the Great Lake outside his bedroom window.
Ernie fearfully stumbled backwards. He slammed into the huddle of students just behind him. One of them - Ginny Weasley - shoved him back forwards. The girl glared dangerously at his back.
"Enough, Macmillan." said McGonagall sharply, her voice wavering.
With the help of a few other Professors, McGonagall managed to clear the corridor. The Hufflepuff girl had been levitated off to the Hospital wing, and Nearly Headless Nick had somehow followed thanks to a fan Professor McGonagall had conjured.
Eventually, only Harry and Professor McGonagall stood within the hall. The woman eyed him warily. Her expression was somehow sterner than usual, and Harry felt a sudden cold feeling in his stomach. He shivered slightly, fiddling with his wand as he glanced at his feet.
At long last, McGonagall spoke.
"This way, Potter." she said, holding her hand out before her.
"Professor, I swear I didn't -"
"This is out of my hands, Potter." said Professor McGonagall curtly.
Together the pair marched up several flights of stairs, Harry's heart rate finally managing to lessen. Taking deep breaths, Harry closed his eyes momentarily as they finally came to a stop. When he opened them, his eyes fell upon the statue of a large and rather ugly stone gargoyle.
"Lemon Drop." said McGonagall.
The gargoyle sprung to life, hopping out of the way as the wall behind him split in two. Behind it stood a spiral staircase, one that seemed to smoothly move upwards, not unlike a muggle escalator. Harry tentatively stepped onto it. Professor McGonagall watched him for a moment before turning around, likely heading off to wherever the Gryffindor common room was.
Harry could barely hear the wall close up behind him. He hardly noticed the intricate patterns that formed the stairs he stood upon, one that stood in the shape of an eagle. He blankly stared at the wooden door before him, a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin attached to it.
At long last, Harry would finally see the headmaster's office.
