This chapter took a bit of time to edit. I almost completely rewrote the third scene - I even changed the location. That'll be an interesting place in the future . . . consider this an Easter egg of sorts.
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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
VIII. The Henchmen's Folly
"I'm off to the library." said Nott, standing up. His dark eyes flicked to the staff table along the front of the Great Hall, "Madam Pince's still eating. I might be able to nick a book or two from the Restricted Section."
Harry nodded, waving absentmindedly at Nott's back before returning to the steak that sat before him. The end of his fork poked at a rather large chunk of meat. Harry slowly raised it to his lips. It was tender and juicy, but it still felt like a bit too much to eat. Harry's stomach groaned in protest as he reached for another bite.
I can thank Aunt Petunia for that. I'm still not used to eating that much.
"You're staying at Hogwarts during the winter break, right?"
Harry nodded, turning to face Daphne. He hastily swallowed his food before replying.
"Hogwarts is loads better than the Dursleys. Besides, I usually have the common room to myself - unless you're staying too?"
She shook her head.
"Astoria." she murmured quietly, "That's my sister. I'd - I'd like to spend the holidays with her. Tracey might be there too."
"I'm glad to hear it." said Harry truthfully, "Your sister, Astoria - she'll be coming to Hogwarts soon, won't she?"
"That's the plan." Daphne sighed, reaching towards her food again, "And speaking of plans, you'd better sign up to stay if that's what you're planning to do."
"Right."
Harry scarfed down the rest of his food before standing up, watching as the golden plate vanished the moment he stood. He waited for a moment as Daphne finished her bowl of porridge before slowly rising from the table.
"It'll be in the entrance hall, won't it?".
Harry nodded.
Sure enough, a long roll of parchment had been flattened upon the furthest wall, a quill and a bottle of ink resting just beneath it. Harry dipped the quill in ink, raising it to sign his name. His emerald eyes fell upon three names written in equally untidy handwriting, and he paused, frowning.
Draco Malfoy. Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle.
"Why are they staying back?" muttered Harry, his eyes narrowed, "Malfoy never shuts up about how he'd never do something like that."
"I'm not sure." Daphne frowned, "But it probably has something to do with them."
A thin, pale finger rose to point at names further down the parchment. Harry followed her gaze, and he felt his heart sink.
Ron Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Hermione Granger.
"The Chamber of Secrets." he murmured, "They all probably think they'll be able to figure something out while they have the castle to themselves."
And since I'm stuck here, I'll probably get dragged into it.
"It's unlikely." noted Daphne, "The odds of the Heir staying back during break are slim to none, and attacking when there could only be a few potential suspects is incredibly foolish. You'd be much more likely to learn something by just asking about it back home, over break."
"Nott said he'd ask his grandfather about it." remembered Harry, leaning in to write his name in an untidy scrawl, "He said his grandfather probably knew something about it."
"I wouldn't be surprised if that were true. I'll ask my father, though I doubt he would know much we couldn't find out for ourselves."
Harry shrugged.
"Better to ask than to never know."
He gently dropped the ink-covered quill back into the bottle before following after Daphne. The pair slowly made their way down towards the dungeons.
"So, what do you plan to do over the break?" asked Daphne, "In the castle, I mean."
"I dunno." said Harry, shrugging, "Eat and sleep, I suppose."
"Nothing that might not end well, right?"
Harry turned. Icy blue eyes bore into his own, and her lips thinned slightly.
She's got a good poker face.
Something poked at the edge of his skull. A strange feeling, like worry and concern, wormed its way into Harry's heart.
It isn't mine, though. Shame her poker face isn't worth much.
"What makes you think that?" he asked slowly.
"You're easy to read." Daphne straightened up, brushing dust from her robes, "Granted, it isn't always like that - there are still times when I've no idea what you're thinking. But I think that's just you dozing off."
"Thanks for that." said Harry irritably, but the ghost of a grin etched itself upon his features, "And I reckon I wasn't dozing off, by the way."
Daphne snorted.
"You get that blank expression whenever we're in History of Magic." she told him, "You're definitely dozing off."
Practicing Occlumency, more like.
Harry shook his head. His gaze slowly returned to Daphne. She stared expectantly back at him.
"I'll try not to get myself involved in anything relating to Malfoy, Weasley, Longbottom, or Granger." Harry promised at last.
"Try?" Daphne pursed her lips, but their ends curved slightly upwards.
"Try." agreed Harry with a nod, "I usually get roped into these things, anyway - wait, go around here, the bathroom smells horrible."
Daphne paused, staring at the wooden bathroom sign that hung overhead. She turned to Harry, a disbelieving expression on her face.
"And why, Potter, do you know what the girl's toilet smells like?"
"Because I've got a nose." quipped Harry, "But if you don't believe me, feel free to find out for yourself."
Daphne glanced at the bathroom door. It grew larger with every step closer they took. As they passed by the door, something putrid assaulted their noses.
Like rotten eggs. That's disgusting.
They both doubled over, coughing. Harry pinched the end of his nose before rushing down the corridor. He heard the clattering of Daphne's feet from somewhere behind him. They ran for several corridors, only slowing down when they reached the Slytherin common room.
"It must have been Myrtle." said Daphne, panting slightly, "She's got a habit of doing things like that. It's the reason no one ever uses that bathroom."
"I wouldn't know." said Harry a little too quickly. Daphne rolled her eyes.
"Come on." she said, stepping towards the portrait hole, "We've got homework to finish."
-(xXx)-
Harry waved his wand. Gleaming dark scales began to fade, and he watched as his conjured snake slowly wilted away.
"Did it work?"
"Yes." Harry wrote, pulling the diary closer, "I think I've got the hang of it now. I can control when I speak Parseltongue, at least for the most part."
Occlumency's definitely helping, too.
Emerald eyes turned to the Great Lake that sat just outside his dorm window. The viridescent water had a faint, almost frost-like taint to it. A huddle of Grindylows swam past him, burrowing further into the icy depths.
I suppose they're used to it. It's got to be pretty cold that far down.
"And winter's only just started, too." Harry murmured to himself, "It's only the first day of break."
He groaned, banging his head against the side of his bed.
The Hogwarts castle and grounds were unusually barren now. Harry had watched from the Astronomy tower yesterday as the stampede of students bolted down to the carriages that led to the Hogwarts Express.
It was like they thought whoever left last would be attacked by the Heir of Slytherin.
Harry frowned.
They probably did think that.
A loud, smug voice pressed against his ears. Harry grit his teeth, turning to the doorway.
And of course he had to stay, too.
Malfoy's voice slowly trailed off. Harry tapped his fingers against the side of his bed, waiting irritably for Malfoy to start speak again. His arms curved upwards, and his fingers pressed tightly into the diary's cover.
He's going to try something. He wouldn't have stayed back, otherwise.
"He hasn't bother me much, though." Harry noted curiously. A soft grin slowly spread across his lips, "Not since the dueling club."
Maybe it has something to do with the Gryffindors. Perhaps that's why they stayed back, too.
Harry lowered his gaze to the diary's surface. Thin, neat words covered the faded pages.
"That's good to hear." she had written, "But you'll have to keep practicing. Complete control of your ability is a necessity."
"I'm nearly there." Harry told her, "I've got the basics down - I can speak it whenever there's a snake in front of me."
"And when there isn't?"
Harry frowned.
"It's a bit harder then." he admitted.
The diary remained blank for some time. After a few long moments, Emily's neat writing graced its pages again.
"Then imagine a snake, and try again."
Harry set his quill aside, closing his eyes.
Something curved about his mind. It was long and twisted. Gleaming scales covered it, and a strange pattern of countless colours littered its body. Its head rose slightly. Long, white fangs protruded from its mouth, and deep dark eyes latched onto Harry's
Harry faltered. His lips parted, and a strange hissing sound permeated the dormitory. Harry opened his eyes, grinning.
Brilliant.
His gaze dropped down to the diary in his lap. A short message was already scrawled upon it.
"Good job, Harry. I knew you could do it."
"What makes you think I did?" wrote Harry, smiling, "For all you know, I couldn't. I didn't even write back."
"You didn't have to. I have faith in your abilities."
Harry grinned.
"You were right, by the way." he scrawled, "It worked. Thinking of a snake makes it loads easier."
"I'm not surprised." said Emily, "It's simply another facet of Occlumency. Tricking the mind into making feats simpler. You'd have mastered it either way, eventually. Parseltongue is a language that develops as you do. It simply would have taken a bit longer."
"Where did you learn all of that?" asked Harry curiously, "I couldn't find any books on Parseltongue in the library. Just a few books about famous Parselmouths in history."
"You would not have found anything useful in the Hogwarts Library. You likely wouldn't find books on Parseltongue anywhere else, either."
"Why?"
"Why would you?" the diary wrote, "It isn't very common gift, Harry. In the last thousand years there have been less than six hundred recorded Parselmouths."
Harry balked.
"Six hundred?"
"Six hundred." repeated Emily, "Almost all of them were from India. The Indian branch of Parselmouths slowly dwindled away as the centuries passed by. By the time the British had colonized India, there were no true Parselmouths to be found."
"And the other Parselmouths?"
"All of British origin." Emily wrote, "And all descendants of Salazar Slytherin, as far as I'm aware. In the last thousand years, there has only been one family that could make such a claim."
"The Gaunts."
"Yes, Harry, the Gaunts. The Gaunts wished to ensure that their beloved gift was not shared with anyone else. There would only ever be one Gaunt child at a time, for there was to be no other branch of the Gaunt family aside from the main one. They would not, could not allow their precious gift to be passed on to someone else.
"As time passed, their fortune slowly depleted. There eventually came a time when no family was willing to wed their sisters or daughters to the Gaunt men. The family was poor, and its members quite unpleasant. No one - not even those who revered the dying power of Salazar Slytherin - was willing to subject their loved ones to such a fate.
"That was nearly two hundred years ago. From then on, there was finally allowed to be two Gaunt children at a time, provided that they were of the opposite sex. I'm sure you can guess what happens next."
Harry grimaced.
"Yes, I can." he wrote, shifting uncomfortably, "Is that why they died out?"
"Not necessarily, although it's more than possible." said Emily, "Magic, as I'm sure you know, is capable of fixing many things that should not be fixable. No, the Gaunts likely died from their desire to hoard the gift they so revered. Their family was so small that should anything go wrong, their line would be all but finished. When that time finally came, their line ceased to exist.
"There was the Sayre family as well, as I'm sure you know. They were the reason the Gaunts limited themselves to one child at a time. The Sayre family was birthed by a Gaunt, after all."
"Isolt Sayre." Harry wrote, "But their family died out as well, didn't it?"
"Yes, it did."
"Then where would I have gotten it from?" asked Harry curiously, "How could I be a Parselmouth?"
There was a pause. Harry could almost feel the gears turning within the diary as Emily sought for an answer.
"I don't know." she admitted at last, "I'm not quite sure."
Harry slumped against the side of his bed, unable to hide his disappointment.
"But we digress," wrote Emily, "There were never enough Parselmouths to justify documenting their abilities. The few Parselmouths capable of doing so would never have been willing - remember, the Gaunts did not like the idea of others sharing so much as a fraction of what made them special."
"So there likely aren't any books on Parseltongue out there?"
"It isn't likely." Emily agreed, "There was once a time when Parselmouths were willing to share their secrets with one another - but that was millennia ago, and they never felt a need to document it."
"But what about their descendants?" asked Harry, frowning, "How would they learn to speak it?"
"On their own, of course." said the diary, "It is something that becomes ingrained over time - as you grow older, you will become more and more fluent, more and more in control. It's a magical language, Harry - you don't have to learn it. You just have to control when you use it and when you don't. It is something that comes with age, or, if you're impatient, practice.
"It isn't a particularly difficult skill to master. In only a few weeks you have come close to doing so, after all. That, I think, is the most interesting part of all. Only those who speak it will ever understand so much as a fraction of it. Those who can not speak it, no matter how hard they try, will never come close to comprehending the ways in which it works. However talented they may be will not change that.
"In a way, the Gaunts got what they wanted. The secrets of Parseltongue can only - and will only - ever be understood by those who speak it."
-(xXx)-
"You know, there are probably better ways to spend your Christmas."
Harry chuckled, popping a chocolate frog into his mouth. Snow fell from the skies and the wind brushed against him, but Harry didn't feel it. A soft, cozy warmth washed over him as he reached for more sweets.
I love warming charms.
The Hogwarts Grounds seemed to stretch on for an eternity, hidden beneath layers of freshly fallen snow. Off to one side sat the Forbidden Forest, and to another was the Great Lake. Bits of snow covered the wooden balcony of the Astronomy tower, but a large ring of floor around Harry remained untouched. Beside him, a number of sweets were stacked up in a small pile. There was also a Christmas wreath, a soft red bow, a small golden bell and a few strands of tinsel.
For Christmas spirit, I suppose. It's nice.
Emily's diary sat within his lap. A pile of wrapping paper sat beneath it. There was another book, too. It was a large, light brown tome, entitled, 'Basic Charms for Beginners'.
That one's from Daphne.
He had curiously pried it open to find a number of rather . . . questionable spells. Harry glanced at it again, sliding the cover open. The cover's lining seemed slightly warped; looking closer, Harry noticed that it was a bit off-center.
She must've slapped the cover of a normal textbook onto this one.
Harry grinned, rolling his eyes. His gaze fell back to the diary in his lap. He lowered his battered quill to the surface.
"I don't think so." he wrote earnestly, "That's what friends are for, remember?"
"To keep each other company?"
"I suppose." agreed Harry, "Or just to be there. I'm not sure."
"Why aren't you certain?"
Harry hesitated, slowly dipping his quill into the bottle of ink.
"I've never really had friends. Not before Hogwarts."
"And now?"
"A few." scrawled Harry, "Nott. Daphne."
Her.
Harry grit his teeth, his palms clenched. He closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head to the side. He took a long, deep breath. Harry slowly opened his eyes once more.
"They got me gifts for Christmas." he wrote eventually, "They're nice."
"What did they get you?"
"Sweets from Nott." Harry scrawled, "A book from Daphne - I would've thought Nott would get me that."
Harry's gaze fell upon a small misshapen box.
And homemade snacks from Hagrid. There's no way I'm eating them, but I suppose Hedwig might like them.
Harry frowned.
I should see him some time.
A single toothpick sat beside the box. Harry rolled his eyes, turning back to the diary.
"And the Dursleys sent a toothpick, too."
"I'm assuming you don't consider them your friends."
"Definitely not." Harry agreed, "Just Daphne and Nott, really."
He paused, examining the notebook carefully.
"And you, too."
He might have been imagining it, but the diary felt warmer to his touch.
"It's an honor, I assure you." wrote Emily, her scribbled words dripping with amusement, "You're my first, if you must know."
"First?" Harry frowned, "How could I be your first friend? Surely you've had a few?"
"I'm afraid I haven't." admitted Emily, "I wouldn't have it any other way, either. As far as friends go, you aren't the worst."
"Thanks?"
"Anytime, Harry."
-(xXx)-
Only a faint green glow was cast by the window in Harry's dormitory. It was dark out; clouds stretched out overhead, but a sparse few stars sparkled from the gaps between them.
Harry straightened up, inspecting his robes in the mirror. They were creased, and small bits of dust covered his sleeves. Harry gently ran his fingers across the silky material. The dust vanished into thin air.
I'm getting better. Emily would be proud.
"Not that it's anything new, really." Harry murmured aloud.
But it's still a nice feeling.
"Tempus." Harry whispered, waving his wand. Silvery numbers appeared before him.
A few minutes past seven. I'd better get going.
Nodding at his reflection, Harry pocketed his wand and stepped out into the hall. A faint watery trail led to his room. Harry vanished it with a flick of his wand.
From earlier. I should've made sure there wasn't any snow sticking to my feet.
Aside from him, the corridor was completely empty. Words pressed against his ears; they were loud, coming from the common room. Harry sighed irritably.
I'd have seen them at dinner, anyway. At least this time Crabbe and Goyle aren't hovering around my dorm.
His door slowly clicked shut behind him. Harry glanced at it before making his way down to the far end of the hallway.
Gently pushing the door open, Harry stepped into the Slytherin common room. Dark bookshelves lined many of the walls, and a large, oversized window looked out into the Great Lake. The bewitched fireplace cast the room in an eerie green glow. Only three students sat beside it.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Lovely.
"I just wish I knew who it was." Malfoy was saying, lounging across a silk divan, "Father's won't tell me a thing, either. Just told me to keep myself out of it. He wanted me to come home for Christmas, actually. I had to get mum to convince him, and she just barely managed it."
Goyle nodded along, leaning closer.
"Surely you must know something?" he asked curiously, "Don't you have at least an idea of who it is?"
"I've already told you what I think, Goyle." Malfoy sneered, "All I know is what father told me - it's been opened before, fifty years ago, and someone died because of it. Honestly, if you thought any slower you'd be -"
Malfoy paused. His eyes slowly latched onto Harry's. Harry felt caution and uncertainty sliding along his spine.
Good. It's taken you long enough.
Ignoring the trio, Harry made his way towards the portrait hole.
Maybe I can get an extra serving or two. I can save it for tomorrow -
"Hey, Potter!"
Harry spun around. Goyle had rose from his seat. He was beckoning Harry over with a nervous wave of his hand. To his right, Crabbe was turning from Harry to Goyle, his eyes wide and his mouth handing open.
Malfoy stiffened, staring at Goyle. Harry imagined he had the same bewildered expression etched upon his own face.
Something's off. I could count the number of times I've talked to Crabbe and Goyle on one hand and still have a few fingers to spare. He wouldn't just call me over like this.
Behind the pair, Malfoy's grey eyes seemed to narrow slightly. Harry watched as his hand dipped into the pocket of his robes, wrapping around something long and thin. Harry felt his own fingers wrap tightly around his wand. Crabbe twitched uncomfortably as he edged closer.
"Yeah?"
"Er - well, I was wondering," began Goyle, gulping slightly. Beside him, Crabbe sat as stiff as a board, looking anywhere but at Malfoy or Harry, "if you - well, if you knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Something's definitely off.
He pulled the wand from his robes, holding it at his side. Goyle froze, his beady black eyes latched to the thin piece of wood. Crabbe was shaking now; he had gone pale, and it looked as though he would rather be anywhere else but here.
"No, I don't." Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing as his head tilted to the side, "Why do you ask?"
"No r-reason!" stammered Crabbe, breathing heavily, "We - he - was just curious, that's all!"
The stuttering boy raised his head, his eyes meeting Harry's for a fraction of a second. A wave of stress and fear - neither of which belonged to him - suddenly flooded Harry's mind.
There was something else, too. A round, coppery cauldron sat between two stalls made of withered green wood. A strange, mud-like substance bubbled within it. It reeked of rotten eggs.
Harry's eyes narrowed further. His fingers wrapped tighter around his wand, and Crabbe and Goyle both flinched.
"Er - I'm - well, I'm -" Goyle paused, turning to face Crabbe. The shorter boy was prodding him furiously. He pointed at Goyle's hair, muttering something Harry couldn't hear. A second later, the two boys jumped to their feet.
"I've got to go to the hospital wing!" Goyle practically shouted.
"To get medicine!" added Crabbe nervously, "For his stomach!"
Goyle nodded, and without further ado they sprinted along the length of the Slytherin common room and bolted through the portrait door. Harry watched as the door slammed shut before rounding on Malfoy, his wand raised.
"Watch where you point your wand!" hissed Malfoy, his back pressed against the end of the divan.
"How long have they been here?" asked Harry angrily, "Go on!"
"I don't know - point that thing away from me!"
"How long, Malfoy?"
"Nearly an hour, alright!" yelled Malfoy angrily.
Harry groaned, lowering his wand. Malfoy ran his fingers along the side of his neck, rubbing where the wand had poked him. He glared angrily at Harry, but the bespectacled boy paid him no mind. Harry spun around, walking across the room and out the portrait hole.
"I don't know who they are." Harry said to himself, his wand held aloft.
But I recognize that potion. It's like the one Emily wrote about in her notebook. Polyjuice, I think.
"But more importantly." Harry murmured, "I know where they'll be."
Harry silently made his way up the stairs that led out of the dungeons, heading off to the second-floor lavatories.
-(xXx)-
"Why would you call him over?" moaned Neville as he and Ron finally came to a halt just outside the girl's bathroom.
"I dunno, I don't know." Ron panted, "It was our only chance to ask him, I guess . I sort of went for it."
Neville grimaced, closing his eyes as he doubled over.
"I t-thought he was going to blast us to smithereens."
"Me too." agreed Ron, "He's bloody scary, honestly."
Definitely fits the bill for the Heir of Slytherin.
The pair slowly hobbled into the abandoned bathroom. Ron caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror. He had returned to normal by now, though he looked far from it. Sweat matted his hair, and the Slytherin robes that adorned him were several sizes too large.
"Do you think it's either of them, then?" asked Neville uncertainly.
"No." Ron grimaced, pulling his robes tighter around him, "Malfoy definitely wished it was him, though. I doubt it was Potter, either - He said he didn't know anything about it."
"He doesn't seem the type to tell anyone." Neville pointed out. Ron nodded irritably.
"Either way, this is the best we've got." he said eventually, "We would've been caught if we stayed any longer."
Neville nodded.
"I panicked the moment he pulled out his wand." he admitted nervously, "I probably would've ran out either way, even if we still had time left."
"I don't blame you." said Ron, "Good thing Hermione didn't come, too - she would've just froze. Imagine if we had to drag her out of there."
Neville shivered, making his way over to Hermione's stall and hammering on the door.
"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you -"
"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.
Neville and Ron looked at each other.
"What's the matter?" asked Ron, "You must be back to normal by now, we are -"
But Hermione said nothing. All at once, Moaning Myrtle glided through the stall door, smiling widely at them both. He soared up into the air, circling around until she was stood just behind them.
"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said, giggling, "It's awful -"
Click.
The stall lock slowly slide back. Ron and Neville watched as Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.
"What's wrong?" said Ron uncertainly, "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"
The silky black robes fell from her grasp, and Ron yelped. It took everything Neville had to not do the same.
Hermione's face was covered in thick black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair. Just barely poking out from beneath her skirt was a long, fluffy tail.
"It was a c-cat hair!" she bawled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"
Shit.
Moaning Myrtle floated off to the side, clapping happily.
"You'll be teased something dreadful," she told them knowingly, "How lovely!"
Ron swore angrily at her, but the ghost cackled, zooming into a toilet opposite them and out of sight. Hermione's knees began to buckle, and tears ran down her face. Ron and Neville ran to her side, holding her up.
"Madam Pomfrey will sort you out." assured Neville.
"You won't get in trouble, either." added Ron, "You know Madam Pomfrey, she never asks too many -"
He paused, his eyes wide with alarm. Neville quieted as well, and even Hermione managed to suppress her sobs. The three of them listened with fear as the soft clattering of footsteps grew louder. For a second, everything went silent - the next, the door had swung open.
"You lot are unbelievable."
Staring at Hermione with wide eyes was Harry Potter, his wand held loosely by his side.
