Chapter Three - Old Magic, Young Might

History of Magic was dull. The final fourth-year class of the year wasn't any less dull and dreary than every single one they'd had, ever.. Granted, there were only two days left, so the jittery anticipation of the students was undeniable as they looked forward to time with their families. Harry, on the other hand, was dreading it. Sure he had the new books, the one on light-based magic and the one Neville had given him to try and improve his skills, but he would still have to endure the Dursleys for however long Dumbledore felt was necessary. How on earth was he able to train to defeat Voldemort if he wasn't even allowed to cast magic outside school?

The slumber-inducing drone of the late Professor Binns nearly had the whole class to sleep as the ghost incessantly plodded on through another Goblin rebellion, but Harry wasn't listening. He was too busy looking through the book Neville had given him, reading about Noble Houses and family trees. It turned out he was part of an Ancient and Noble House, the third highest in the Wizengamot. The only families higher than those were the "Most Ancient and Noble", of which only three remained active, the Blacks, the Greengrasses and the Bones. The class above them was the Great Seven, though each family and their family magics had been dormant for at least five hundred years. The last of these Great Seven to have had a member had been the Peverells. The other houses were the Hogwarts Four, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. There was also house Emrys, Merlin's house and house Purethorn, who he'd never heard of. These families would've usually held the most sway in the Wizengamot, and their proposals for new actions or laws didn't have to be seconded by another house. Great Seven statements were all to be heard, but just like with other houses, were to be questioned, debated and voted on. The Great Seven each had seven votes and took up twenty-eight percent of all of the one hundred possible Wizengamot votes. It was just a shame that no one was ever there to use them.

Harry moved on to the information about the places within houses. It was as to be expected, the families had a head and heir, a second, third and fourth in line. The heir didn't have the same powers as the Head of House, and couldn't vote, however, they came above second ranks amongst members of noble families of the same calibre, and they often had access to some family magics. Harry wondered whether Voldemort's rise had been because maybe he'd had access to Slytherin's library, being the heir of Slytherin. Maybe he might've had a chance at beating Voldemort if he'd had access to that sort of information. A guy could dream. But then Harry stopped, a sudden epiphany sprang into his mind and dropped the book he was reading with a slam. Several sets of bleary eyes turned and looked around at him annoyedly, except for the oblivious Professor Binns of course, but Harry didn't care. What he thought now, excited him:

Slytherins Library must be in the Chamber of Secrets.

He was silent most of the way through dinner, but that wasn't that unusual for Harry. It just ensured that Ron, Hermione and Neville had done their usual thing of checking if he was okay, pitying him with his eyes and patting him on the shoulder.

Ron had complained as usual that: "He needed to stop brooding mate, it's summer soon." but Hermione had snapped at him in response - "Harry saw someone killed, Ronald. Get some fucking sensitivity." The coarse language from Hermione had even made the Hufflepuffs on the long bench next to them stop what they were doing and look around., but it wasn't Cedric he was thinking about. What he was really wondering was at what point that evening he would be able to give Ron and Hermione the slip and try to make his way down into the Chamber.

He ended up having to wait til everyone had gone to bed. He'd been thinking about how he managed to get out last time and realised he might need to fly, but there was no way he would've been able to grab his broomstick without Ron asking to come out for a fly with him. He'd been asking him for days, adamant that a bit of flying would cheer him up. He'd even been to the Quidditch pitch with Ron for a bit last week, but it hadn't done much if he was honest.

It hadn't taken him long to get to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with the help of the Marauder's Map. Sure it'd been a bit tricky to get his Firebolt under the invisibility cloak and keep it hidden the whole time but with a bit of effort, he'd made it. What he hadn't expected, though, was that fuzzy feeling building up again. The lack of focus threatened as vague flashbacks of the Graveyard began to take hold again. He recognised it though now, what it felt like. He wouldn't get lost in it, he had a job to do and he only felt that way because this was where he'd faced Voldemort before. He would regret bringing Harry to this place, but Harry was determined. It would be his downfall.

"And there's the damn basilisk" he thought minutes later as he made his way into the Chamber of Secrets and saw the corpse of his fallen foe, its scales still glittering in the pale green torchlight. Just like before, parseltongue commands had granted him entry, but after he walked around the Chamber for fifteen minutes Harry just felt stupid. There were no other rooms, no hidden bookcases or treasure chests or anything. Only the still-open mouth hole in the huge sculpted Slytherin head's mouth at the far end of the Chamber suggested another room, but surely that was just where the Basilisk had nested. With nowhere else to go though, he thought he might as well have a look. To begin with, Harry thought he had been right. His lumos-light in the dark room showed animal bones littered the floor and what must've been dried-out droppings, as well as bits of previously shed skin that had since decayed and crumbled into bits. Unfortunately, no bookcases. With frustrated determination, he walked his way around the room until finally something a bit curious shone in his wand light. It was an ornate, solid silver handle, like an old-fashioned door knocker, just hanging from the solid dark rock.

Harry grasped the cold metal and instantly regretted his decision. It went from ice cold to red hot in a flash, and when he tried to snatch his hand away he found that he couldn't release his grip. Panicking, he looked for anything around the room that might help him. Damn, no one knew where he was! Why didn't he tell anyone where he was going? Cursing himself for being such a moron, he thought about trying to send a Patronus or something but realised he didn't know how to send a message with it yet anyway. Thankfully though, the metal cooled down again, and while he wasn't yet able to release his grip, the pain lessened, and Harry watched in fascination as the edges of a doorframe came into being like a laser cutting through a metal bank vault he'd seen in a movie as a child at Mrs Figg's. As the full shape of the frame came into being, however, Harry could do nothing but cheer into the echoing cavern as the whole piece of stone simply faded away to reveal exactly what he'd been looking for.

It was huge. A crackling fireplace gave off a comfortable warmth that illuminated a vast library, at least as large as the Chamber itself, with rows that seemed to go on and on into darkness. Harry couldn't believe it. He walked over to a large desk, running his fingers along the embossed title of a large, dust-covered, cracked leather tome still perched upon an exceedingly old but still serviceable wooden desk Harry couldn't help but say his thoughts aloud.

"How… how did I get in...I'm not the heir."

"You're right, you are not." A stern voice sounded to the left of him. Looking towards the source of the noise, Harry saw it was a portrait and as he stepped towards it, realised even without a title he knew who this was.

"You're Salazar Slytherin," Harry said in astonishment.

The portrait depicted the ancient wizard sitting in the very room Harry was now standing in, surrounded by books and with a single candlelight illuminating his eyes and drawing attention more to his long, wispy silver moustache rather than his extravagant emerald robes. The portrait rolled his eyes at him.

"Well if that's an indication of your intellect, I regret making the killer of my basilisk protector into Lord Slytherin. More brawn than brains, are you?"

Harry wasn't sure of that tone, it reminded him a bit of Aunt Marge, all pomposity and fake grandeur, but maybe he had a right to be. He was Salazar Slytherin after all.

"Absolutely not, sir, I was just amazed to see you."

"As you should be," the portrait replied. "I did create this school, you know."

"Wait," Harry said, his aforementioned brain just catching up, "What did you mean "making the killer of your protector Lord Slytherin"? I thought Tom Riddle was the heir of Slytherin."

"Absolutely not!" Salazar snapped, making Harry step back "I would never bestow that honour on such an insane megalomaniac."

"But isn't he blood?"

"And? What on earth makes you think that I consider blood over quality of character? I don't care who you are, muggleborn, half-blood, pureblood. It's all magic."

"What? The legends say you created this Chamber to purge this school of muggleborns."

"How dare they! My legacy is not one of hatred and intolerance. I did nothing for this world but try to keep all magic safe! My argument with Gryffindor was that muggleborns would live in the castle year-round, to protect them from the unrelenting persecution that muggles were inflicting on our kind, regardless of how it would affect their families. The preservation of magic was more important than their feelings. The Basilisk was a guardian to protect entry to this very chamber, to preserve the powerful knowledge within and of course, my portrait. Riddle, that miscreant, thought he was entitled to my knowledge and even though I can see into the Chamber he never managed to enter this room. He was able to work out how to release my protector, but of course, this was its very purpose and initially, it was made to attack him. How was I supposed to know he could turn that sweet snake into an abomination, sure it was hungry, but to command it to murder?!

"Wow. This is gonna make waves, you know. That's not who the wizarding world thinks you were at all.."

"And you are the one that must make them. Ever since I created this Chamber I knew that while my sister would bear an heir for the family via a line continuation contract, I could never have a direct bloodline of my own. I never found myself attracted to another. Instead, I vowed that only a parselmouth, a man that my portrait could tell was honourable, of good stock, and was powerful and valourous enough to defeat my own basilisk, would be named head of my house. Such would be the time that the world was at a place again where his power could impact the world as I had, to bring glory to the name. The moment my magic granted you entrance, you became my heir. You are now Lord Slytherin-Potter, my name being of higher standing than even your honourable house's status deciding the order your names present."

Harry could do nothing but sit on the desk chair in shock at the news. Staring at the floor, he tried but completely failed to understand how this might affect his life. The only thing he knew was that he knew nothing, not really. All he knew was that he was still underage and now he wouldn't be able to present at the Wizengamot anyway. He'd already worked out he couldn't sit on his Potter seat until he hit twenty-one. Bringing back house Slytherin was a lot of pressure as if he didn't have enough of that already! He spent a good twenty seconds trying to think and eventually thought maybe he should think of a question to ask the portrait, but he was so out of his depth and in his daze just said the first thing that came to mind:

"There…there hasn't been a member from the Great Seven sitting in the Wizengamot in half a century, and besides, I'm not of age."

"You are now, the magic chose you." Slytherin's portrait replied. "You're emancipated, otherwise you wouldn't be able to carry out your duties."

Well, that statement widened Harry's eyes for him.

"You mean I can do magic outside of school?" he asked, excitedly.

"As long as it's not in front of muggles."

"Wow." Harry's mind reeled at the possibilities, wouldn't that mean he could finally get his own back on the Dursleys, they already knew about magic. Better yet, he would even be able to study spells to defeat Voldemort somehow. He just gained a lot more spare time over the holidays.

"Now, listen, you're going to have to go soon. In the top drawer on my desk is the necklace. It acts in place of the House ring to others as well as a Portkey to this Chamber that bypasses the Hogwarts Wards, you can come back here any time. On the desk is the book of houses, study it, learn from it, learn who knows who and who is related to who. You will declare your rise to power at the next Wizengamot session, which unless I'm mistaken will be three weeks hence, keep the pendant under your shirt until then. I'm also going to give you a list of books to read. You will also come back here to train. We need not discuss your mission. I know what it is, and after what that bastard did to my snake, to this school I will not rest until you can blast him to ribbons. However, it is now five am, and people will be rising soon. You going missing will not go unnoticed.

"What?"

"The testing takes a while."

"But it felt like minutes."

"Well I wouldn't want it to feel like I'd been burning your palm for 6 hours, would I? Even if I was absorbing all of your memories, processing them and deciding how my magic would react to you gaining Lordship." the portrait said, with a smirk, "Now, write these down, and I'll tell you where the other books are, grab the necklace and be off with you, I've got brooding to do."

"Yes sir."

"It is Salazar."

"Yes, Salazar."

"Remember, you are of the Great Seven now, you are subservient to no one."

"Yes, Salazar."


Harry's mind was absolutely reeling when he got back to the common room, but the consequences of time dilation and the excitement from the night's adventure meant that for him he was essentially experiencing jet lag. It was still midnight to him, even though it was 5:45 am in the real world. He decided to just get a brief overview of the books from the Chamber and sat in the alcove by his bed in Gryffindor Tower, reading by the light of the sunrise, waiting for the Great Hall to open so he could get something to eat.

He couldn't help but feel incredibly nervous about the fact that he would have to stand in front of the Minister of Magic in mere weeks and declare that he was essentially higher in station than every other person in the wizarding world. How on earth was he supposed to know what to say? How would they take it?

Those nerves were compounded even further as he sat alone at the breakfast table at eight am, having told a still snoozing Ron that he was up early and was going down to the Great Hall without him. As he filled his plate with bacon and eggs, the Daily Prophet was dropped by an owl right in front of him and what was initially his usual, casual glance quickly became a double take as he read the headline: "Potter, Liar or Lunatic?"

Knuckles white, the edge of the paper scrunching in fury, Harry's sleepiness completely disappeared as he read how the Ministry was branding him a liar. He looked at the smiling face of Cornelius Fudge and experienced both fury at how they'd treated him and despair for how this might affect those he loved.

How could he be expected to deal with Voldemort if he couldn't count on the Aurors to be out looking for Death Eaters? How could they think he was lying? Did they think he was a murderer? What possible motive could he have for lying about the return of the monster that had killed his parents?

Seething, he clenched his fists tighter, but a twinge of pain in his right arm shot through him, from the still-healing wound from Pettigrew's cursed blade. If he were honest, the pain was a welcome distraction but he released his grip nonetheless He hadn't needed the pain's reminder to visit Madame Pomfrey today to get his potions for the holiday, but if he didn't fear the dumpy little witch's wrath, he might've.

Still, they were going home tomorrow and he had a lot of thinking and quite a bit of packing to do. Classes were over, and when the night's activities finally caught up with him, he was sure he was going to crash. He needed to go soon as well, he really couldn't be bothered with all the funny looks and glares this article would bring when more students started filtering in. He'd already had a strange look from a lone Ravenclaw girl sitting not too far away.

He hadn't brought anything down with him from Gryffindor Tower so was able to leave immediately. It was lucky the hospital wing was only five minutes from the Great Hall because Harry was yawning so hard it was making his eyes water when he saw the doors of the infirmary that he'd spent many painful nights in over his years at Hogwarts. Pomfrey was kind and professional enough, but he'd rather spend as little time with her as possible. She seemed to think he was a walking liability.

As Harry entered, he saw the aforementioned matron exit from behind a curtain where a patient must've been situated and dash quickly across the room, not even noticing him, looking rather stressed and muttering to herself.

"Need more alihotsy root, maybe with the flux-weed. We're lucky it's been a full moon, but what if I?" She muttered under her breath as she walked.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said as she started opening a jar on one of her shelves that filled a back wall.

"Your potions are on the third shelf of the unit next to me and are labelled Mister Potter, you know how much to take at a time by now. I can't do a proper exam, I'm too busy," she said, dropping a handful of flaking roots from her hand into a small stone mortar, before vigorously going to town on it with a pestle. Ah, she had noticed him then. Harry simply nodded and went to where she'd indicated, more than happy to get out of her hair. He gathered the three potions and pocketed them, looking up to say thank you when he noticed Pomfrey's cloak swish into her backroom.

Deciding to just leave, she was clearly too busy even for a goodbye, Harry began to make his own way towards the door when he was interrupted by a loud low shaking and an uncertain girl's voice half-speak, half-shout: "Uhhhhh?" Turning towards the sound so fast it almost gave him whiplash, Harry saw that it was coming from behind the curtain Pomfrey had previously emerged from.

He barely had the chance to register the sound growing louder when a girl's voice behind the curtain screamed, "HELP! IT'S HAPPENING!"

Harry froze. The curtain was there for privacy, but he couldn't ignore it, could he? What was happening? If he went in there would Pomfrey be mad? Should he go and help? What could he even do anyway? He found, though, that his questions didn't matter when Pomfrey came running out of the room moments later and commanded.

"Potter, with me."

Without hesitation, he followed behind the rushing matron behind the curtain and in no way understood what he saw. Daphne, still in last night's clothes, flustered and panicking, was trying in vain to get to her sister, to grab at her and keep her still, but she couldn't. Somehow, every time she managed to get her hands on her, she was magically repelled away with such force that she was nearly thrown flat on her back. Astoria was completely unconscious, shaking, jerking, and thrashing her limbs madly. While she was completely unaware at all of what was going on, from her open mouth came a horrid bubbling sound like air being forced through a straw at the end of a drink. However, the most terrifying part of the ordeal was the amount her head was jerking backwards and forwards, even with a cushioning charm, the force her head was hitting the headboard was causing an audible thud.

"H…Harry?" Daphne sputtered, eyes streaming with tears, "What are?-"

"Potter, how long can you hold an Incarcerous for, Dumbledore says you're strong." Madam Pomfrey interrupted.

What a question, Harry thought. How was he supposed to know?!

"I dunno, never tried," he replied.

"Your Patronus is corporeal, and you maintained that?"

"For ten minutes." He confirmed.

"She's having a type of magical seizure, only conjured items can touch her. I have to finish this potion, it's the only way to stop it, I think I only need two or three minutes but I need at least 5 ropes, and you need to keep that head still. I could maybe cast that many at once, but I can't make this lunar-bloomed fluxweed draught at the same time. If you can't hold her until I get back it won't matter if we stop the seizure, she'll kill herself from her brain smashing in her skull. Do you understand?"

Without thinking Harry concentrated on the feeling inside him he'd honed over the last year, felt the tingling reach his fingertips as he concentrated on his core and filled himself up as much as he could. With a sudden sharp brandish of his wand, he cast Incarcerous, and nine thick ropes bound Astoria to her bed, 2 for each limb, and one across her forehead.

Daphne took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself as Harry looked back at the Matron.

"Good enough?" Harry asked.

"As strong as Dumbledore," she nodded with respect. "But can you maintain it?"

He could certainly feel the strain, he'd thought he'd be absolutely fine, once it was cast, but some sort of magic, no. some sort of being, whatever it was, was draining him, it was eating his magic. He gritted his teeth. He looked up at Daphne who was staring at him, fearfully, pleadingly, mascara accompanying the tears as they fell down her picturesque face.

He looked straight into her eyes, he wouldn't fail her. He had no family, he wouldn't rob her of hers. Almost growling, he said, "This thing can try and stop me."

Madam Pomfrey took not a second and ran from the bedside, but instantly Harry had to take a deep breath as another draining wave hit him. It was the definition of feeling weakened, but he wouldn't dare show weakness. He had decided just the other day, at the lake with Neville, that he would never be weak again. He ignored his dizziness and gave this…thing what it wanted even as he felt it drain his magical reserves.

"Harry," said Daphne, finding her voice now, running her hands through her lovely hair, "Oh Merlin, Come on Harry, please. You've got this. You've gotta keep this up."

Harry could barely speak, such was the drain on him, but she was right, he did have this.

Another minute, and he was panting and feeling very lightheaded but Harry was still resolute, he wasn't going anywhere. Astoria was still thrashing violently but she was showing no signs of stopping. He took a big deep breath and looked back at Daphne who was still shouting at him with almost begging words of encouragement and he took every word she said and used it. She was his strength right now.

At nearly four minutes, he was starting to feel like he couldn't breathe, and Daphne watched the colour drain from his face. Where the fuck was Pomfrey?

"Harry?" Daphne shouted in alarm, "Harry come on?" Harry, what do you need?"

But he could barely now make out what she was saying. All sound had gone away now and his eyes were beginning to darken. The strength of Daphne's gaze was fading away as his vision did. It was quickly becoming just Harry and this… Demon… whatever it was.

He was so completely out of it that he barely registered when Daphne rounded the bed, but when she shook him hard and slapped him round the face, he was suddenly back in the room again and looked wildly at her. Daphne was instantly taken aback when she saw his eyes glowing bright green

"Get me a chair," He breathed, and not a moment later Daphne had a chair pulled around behind him and he collapsed onto it, still somehow holding onto the spell for dear life.

"I've got it here, Mister Potter." Harry heard Madame Pomfrey call to him as she ran back with a vial of potion in a room, "Just thirty more seconds for it to take effect. I know you're tired."

"I can't…" he breathed "…I can't do it."

"You can Harry, please," Daphne begged.

Pomfrey looked at him, and the next day, in hindsight, Harry was very impressed at the way Pomfrey knew exactly what she had to say.

"Mister Potter, if you can't even beat this if you're going to lose to this, how on earth are you going to beat Lord Voldemort?"

Growling at the insult that she would even dare to think that he would be beaten by this he dug deeper into his magic than ever before. A new lease of power and a new grip on magic brought him now back to full strength, in fact, he had never felt stronger. Glaring at Pomfrey with electric green eyes as his hair stood on end and the window panes shook from the sheer power he was giving off he held his Incarcerous in place til the moment Astoria stopped shaking.

"Maybe not that much power, Mister Potter," Pomfrey said with a little laugh as he released the spell.

"Fuck you," He replied, and as his body recognised his part was done, and passed out on the spot.