And another chapter arrives (very late, I know, and I apologize). There's an excerpt from a "textbook" in this chapter, which goes over a bit of lore for this fic. I've never been quite good at those, so feel free to tell me how I can improve. Oh, and Ron and Neville are involved for a small fragment of the chapter. Looking forward to hearing how that's somehow an exact copy of canon.
I've started a Discord. I intend for it to be a small, relaxed server - nothing to fancy or grand. If you have any questions about my writing, want to discuss my work, or simply want to hang out, you're more than welcome to join. The link is in my profile.
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
XIII. Potente Maxima
Lumos.
Harry watched with bated breath as the spiders scuttled off into the night, their tiny forms vanishing beneath the darkness that was the Forbidden Forest. The soft pattering of their legs berated his ears, and an image of a certain girl in a diary swam through his mind. She was berating him, too.
"She would understand." Harry murmured, pulling his cloak tighter over himself.
That doesn't mean she'll like it, though.
The journey through the forest was both long and miserable. Even beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry felt as though he was being watched. Every sudden sound made him jump, and the faintest of lights had him like a moose in headlights.
It was darker here, in the center of the forest. The trees were tall and thick, and Harry had a hard time seeing past them at all. The dirt beneath his feet was soaked in rain-water, and a muddy mixture of roots, stumps, and low-slung branches blocked his path. He wasn't quite sure where he was; he had never been this far into the Forbidden Forest before.
Further than I ever want to be again.
Harry squinted through the darkness, pointing his wand at the ground again. The spiders were moving much slower now. Harry watched as they tunneled into a small opening beneath a fallen tree.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The thick oak branch gently rose into the air. Harry watched as it spun across the clearing before falling to the floor with a gentle thump.
"That was easy." Harry noted, gazing curiously at the dead tree. He pointed his wand at it again.
Wingardium Leviosa.
The tree slowly rose into the air once more. Harry felt a rather painful feeling tighten in his chest.
"Drop, you can drop already -"
The tree slammed against the earth. Harry sighed with relief, massaging his side. He stared at the fallen tree, frowning.
Too big. I'm not strong enough yet.
"But I will be." Harry turned away, wrapping his Invisibility Cloak tighter around him, "One day -"
Snap.
Harry froze, one hand wrapped around his cloak and the other around his wand. He glanced around, his feet planted firmly in the ground.
Snap.
Snap.
It was growing louder now. It was quick and sharp, like wood being cracked in two-
But bigger. Much bigger.
Harry watched with horror as two large trees across the clearing buckled in on themselves. Then the trees before them snapped, and the ones before them, and then -
"Who intrudes?"
Standing above the shattered trees was a large, horrifying creature - a spider the size of a small elephant. Harry stood in silence, his eyes wide and the wand within his hand long forgotten. The giant spider looked around, clicking its pincers wildly.
"Who intrudes?" it asked again in a deep, booming voice, "Where are you? What are you?"
The spider slowly stepped forward. Harry scuttled back as a hairy, oversized leg slammed into the earth, leaving a small crater close to where he had been standing. The spider continued clicking its pincers, leaning forward as it did. Its eight eyes were all glued to something in the mud. Harry chanced a glance, freezing when he saw what had attracted the Acromantula's attention. Wedged within the muddy earth were footprints - his footprints.
The Acromantula slowly leaned backwards, clicking wildly.
"Human." it muttered quietly, "Man. Must tell father. Must tell Aragog."
Harry watched as the creature turned around, heading back to wherever it had come from. It scuttled across the countless piles of broken trees, leaving a small trail of destruction in its wake.
Aragog. It's him.
Taking a deep breath, Harry set off after the ginormous spider. He could just barely keep up with the faint, scuttling outline in the distance. Its legs were far longer than his, and though the path had been cleared for him, Harry still found it difficult to make his way across.
After another twenty minutes, the forest around him began to change. Thick strands of strange silk coated the leaves. The clicking was back, too - but it was louder, more oppressive and angry -
The giant spider stumbled through the forest, approaching a vast dome white as bone. It curved upwards, decorated with thousands of small, intricate patterns -
Not a dome. It's a web.
The silky stands were laid so close together that they could hardly be distinguished. The spider crawled through an archway in the bottom. Harry nervously followed.
If the forest outside the dome had been covered in silk, the insides were a completely different story. The trees were coloured white with web, and silky strands littered the forest floor. Hundreds of black bodies sat in stark contrast to the snow-coloured silk, each adorned with long spindly legs, sharp fangs, and eight beady eyes. Harry shivered beneath his cloak.
At least Emily can't kill me if I'm already dead.
He barely felt his legs drag him forward, his chest heaving as he followed the first spider further into the dome. It was much emptier here. Instead of the many Acromantulas from before, there were webs of all sorts, linked together in strange, peculiar ways Harry didn't quite understand. Behind them all, Harry could faintly spot the outline of an old, withered spider sitting atop a web patterned like marble.
"Aragog!" the first spider scurried towards the giant web in the center of the dome, "Father!"
The spider atop the web slowly raised its head, and Harry got a good look at it for the first time.
It was ginormous. All along its dark body were patches of grey, and the eight eyes that adorned its head like oversized jewels were a milky white. Harry leaned closer in spite of himself, trying to get a better look.
He's blind.
"What is it?" Aragog whispered. His pincers clicking softly, ringing within the webbed dome.
"Man." the smaller spider straightened up, "In the forest. Saw its tracks in the forest. They must be nearby."
"Is it Hagrid?" asked Aragog, moving closer.
"No. Feet too small. Strangers."
"Then kill them." said Aragog indifferently, "You may eat."
The other spider clicked gleefully before departing from the web. Aragog stretched his legs, slowly retreating as well.
This is my only chance.
Harry took a deep breath, ignoring the beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.
"Aragog?"
The ancient spider froze. Suddenly he spun around, the web sinking beneath him as his legs pressed furiously against it. His dull eyes stared blankly around, and he clicked angrily.
"Who is it?" he called, "Where are you?"
Harry grimaced. He nervously ran a finger along the edge of his collar.
Relax. You can do this.
"I'm a friend of Hagrid's," he said, sounding much confident than he felt, "from Hogwarts."
That seemed to catch Aragog's attention.
"Hagrid?" the spider paused, "Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before."
"Hagrid's in trouble." said Harry quietly, "Hagrid's - Hagrid's gone. They think he's been setting a monster on students, so they've taken him away."
"He would never." the spider clicked angrily, "I suppose you believe the monster is me?"
Yes.
Harry toyed with the end of his wand, frowning.
"No." he muttered slowly, "I used to think it was - it made sense. But Hagrid wouldn't set a monster on anyone - not on purpose."
"Then why have you come, child?" Harry watched as the spider scuttled from side to side, shifting around, "If you do not think I am the monster, then why are you here?"
"I want to know what really happened." said Harry, "I've got to know. It's the only way to help Hagrid, and the only way to make sure Hogwarts doesn't close."
Aragog came to a stop. His fangs, once bared, lowered slightly. When he spoke, his voice was lower and softer than before.
"I was banished from the castle when the body of a girl was discovered in a bathroom. She had been killed - they thought I did it."
"But you didn't?"
"No, I did not." Aragog paused, "It would have been in my nature - should have - but it is not. Hagrid was a good friend, the best I could ever ask for - I would never harm a man if it meant a thing against his well-being."
That's nice.
"And the monster?" asked Harry, "The one that killed the girl?"
"The thing lives in the castle to this day." said Aragog quietly, "It is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. I still remember the night I sensed it moving about the school. I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go."
"But what is it -"
"We do not speak of it!" Aragog snapped fiercely. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me many times."
Harry watched uncertainly as the spider began scuttling along the web again, searching for wherever he was hidden.
"You could free Hagrid by telling me." he told the spider, "You know that."
"And I know that it will strike again." Aragog countered, clicking wildly. He slowed to a stop, "Or did you think it was done? That it had its fun, and that it would decide to simply call it a day?"
The massive creature crawled down from the web, and though he did not know it, he inched closer to where Harry stood.
"When it happens, Hagrid will be freed." said the spider menacingly, "When it happens, he will be cleared. I am happy for him. He may suffer a bit, it is true - but he will be better for it. I am glad. He deserves as much.
"But what do you care?" asked the spider, a touch of curiosity within his voice, "Why does it matter to you?"
"Hagrid's my friend." said Harry firmly.
"It's more than that." said Aragog, snarling, "Hagrid is everyone's friend, so long as they're nice enough."
"Well, he's a friend of mine. He deserves to be back home. Back at Hogwarts."
Aragog paused. He nodded slowly to himself, a knowing look in his dull eyes.
"Hogwarts." the spider's large, dark mandibles clicked softly, "You're fond of the school, are you?"
Harry nodded.
He's blind, you muppet.
"I am." Harry admitted, "It's home. Hogwarts is to me what Hagrid is to you, I reckon."
Aragog leaned closer. His fangs bared as he grinned a deep, menacing smile.
"There it is." breathed the spider, "That's the answer I've been looking for. Hogwarts. You're afraid it'll be closed, aren't you?"
"I suppose." said Harry, frowning.
"She was, too." muttered Aragog, "The one who caught Hagrid. I know very little of her, but I still remember it all."
Harry stood still, his wand held loosely in the palm of his hand.
Emily.
"The castle was her home, too." Aragog told him, "And she loved the place. When she heard that Hogwarts might be closed down, she threw herself into finding out just what the monster might have been.
"Maybe if she didn't love the castle so dearly, she would not have overlooked it." said Aragog quietly, "Perhaps she would have thought again, or compared her results better, or listened to Hagrid just a bit longer. Maybe . . ."
Aragog trailed off. After a few moments, the creature shook its head, straightening up.
"You're like her." he muttered at last, "I can feel it -"
"I would never sell out Hagrid -" hissed Harry angrily.
"Maybe not him." said the spider, "You might not mean to hurt anyone at all. But we're all selfish when it comes to what we want. Perhaps, should you find whoever you believe is behind it all, you too won't skim any further than the surface."
Harry shook his head.
"I'll find the real person behind this." he said firmly, "The only person who has to worry is the person who did it."
"You think she didn't think the same thing?" asked Aragog, chuckling. Though his eyes were white and milky, they still shined with an angry mirth, "She probably didn't mean to hurt anyone either. She probably just wanted to ensure Hogwarts remained open."
Aragog leaned closer, his pincers clicking menacingly.
"You might not mean to harm anyone." said the spider, "But you will. There's always a price to pay, even if you can't see it. It's like what Hagrid told me long ago, back when I was young and just learning to speak - 'Thousands must starve for a dozen to feast'. Who will your thousand be?"
Harry stood silently, his palms balled into fists. He watched as the spider paced back and forward before the web, lost in thought.
"It doesn't matter." decided Aragog at last, "Not yet, not whilst you're still a child. But you'll understand, eventually."
Aragog clambered up the web in the center, turning back to around where Harry stood, concealed beneath the Invisibility Cloak.
"Go." hissed the spider, "Save Hagrid, save Hogwarts. And do try to stay away from my children, too - they've got a taste for man I've never quite understood. But then again, you can't miss what you've never had . . ."
With that, Aragog the Acromantula curled back up into a ball and fell asleep. Harry watched for a moment before turning around, heading out of the webbed dome in silence.
A thousand must starve . . .
It was an hour later that Harry found himself back in his dormitory, wrapped within the emerald green bed sheets of Slytherin house. He lay with his head to the side, glancing out his window and into the Great Lake.
No one's going to starve this time.
-(xXx)-
Dark, stormy clouds rolled over the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Harry forced his gaze back down to earth. His eyes slid across the sea of faces that surrounded him.
They look about as cheerful as the sky.
Harry frowned, rubbing tiredly at the lines just beneath his eyes. It was the morning after his little exploit into the Forbidden Forest. Harry felt his eyelids droop.
"Someone's tired." murmured Nott from right. He leaned closer, "Midnight tryst?"
Harry snorted.
"Just a walk. I needed to clear my mind a bit." he paused, frowning, "And I'm twelve, in case you've forgotten."
Nott shrugged, yawning.
"Age is just a number -"
"And Azkaban's just a place." Harry glanced across the room, his eyes falling upon the long staff table, "They're taking their sweet time, aren't they?"
"'Course they are." muttered Nott, "It's a Saturday. It's not like they've got any lessons to teach. They're just cutting into our free time."
The boy straightened up, peering above the sea of heads between them and the many Professors.
"You wouldn't happen to know what this is about, would you?"
Harry shook his head.
But I've got a bit of an idea.
Harry frowned.
"It's about the Chamber of Secrets."
Harry and Nott turned. Daphne was sat to their left, her eyes dull and glazed. Harry followed her line of sight. Dozens of angry glares latched onto him - Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, from the youngest to the very oldest. Harry felt his fingers clench beneath the table.
Right. Hermione.
"Muppets." Nott hissed, eying the tables opposite them, "The whole lot of them. All of them combined haven't got two brain cells to rub together."
At the very edge of the Gryffindor table, two small, hunched forms sat alone. Both Neville and Ron's eyes were red and tired.
I'm not the only one who didn't get a good night's sleep, then.
"If I may have your attention, please!"
Harry turned. Professor Dumbledore was stood behind his lectern, gazing expectantly at them all. The hubbub slowly died down.
"Thank you." Dumbledore cleared his throat, his eyes unusually dull, "Although it ails me to take from all of you your precious time, I fear I have no choice. It seems that my precious time as headmaster is, for now, spent."
Shocked mutters raced through the hall. Only those from the Slytherin table seemed particularly pleasant.
Of course they are. They don't need Dumbledore to keep them safe. They're Purebloods.
The other three tables looked far less thrilled. Harry managed to catch bits and pieces of broken conversations. His name came up far more than he would've liked.
Just ignore them. Tune them out.
Harry took a deep breath, glancing around. His eyes gently fell across Daphne's features. They weren't quite so dull anymore. Her icy blue eyes were wide like galleons, and her eyebrows parted as her hair fell haphazardly across her shoulders.
Worry. She's worried . . . why?
She turned to him, and their eyes met. Harry saw the faint image of his reflection in her irises.
That's why.
Harry frowned, tapping the underside of the table nervously. On his other side, Nott was muttering irritably to himself.
"What are they playing at?" he whispered, staring at the staff table, "Who in Merlin's name thinks that'll help?"
Harry frowned again.
Lucius Malfoy, I reckon.
"Now, now, settle down." said Dumbledore, his firm voice echoing through the hall. He continued once they had all quieted, "I have been requested to step down from the post of Headmaster by the governing board of this school. It is their belief that I am no longer as youthful as I once was, and it is a belief I respect.
"I merely ask that you listen to Professor McGonagall, our Deputy Headmistress. That you listen to your Heads of Houses. And lastly, that you listen to the other staff, the Head Boy and Girl, and our prefects. We are our own greatest strengths, and also our own most vulnerable weaknesses. But in the face of adversity, we stand together, for together we stand the strongest."
-(xXx)-
"Then tell me about it." Harry scrawled, "It's Saturday. We've got all the time in the world."
Dumbledore's speech had wrapped up just minutes ago. The students had all been sent back to their common rooms, where they would now have to spend most of their free time. Countless looks had been sent Harry's way - stares and glares, yells and jeers and applause. He had ignored them all. They didn't matter. They never really had.
He glanced back at the diary that sat within his lap. For the first time in months, Harry wasn't pleased to be writing in it.
But I need an answer. I need to know.
He watched as the surface twirled, ink dancing upon the pages.
"I believed him to be the culprit." Emily wrote in her usual neat script, "When I finally caught him, I did not bother to double check. It seemed like the perfect explanation. I was more than willing to accept it."
"But why?" Harry angrily jabbed his quill into a jar of ink, "You know Hagrid wouldn't do that."
"Hagrid is not the Acromantula, Harry." wrote Emily kindly, "And, I confess, I had been desperately searching for any possible explanation. I feared that the school would close down. It was something I could not bear."
Harry frowned. He watched with unseeing eyes as the quill slipped from his hands. He felt the anger slowly drain from his body.
Aragog was right.
His fingers curved, and the quill flew back into his outstretched hands.
"You didn't like your home either, did you?"
"No, Harry, I did not. As far as I was concerned, Hogwarts was my home. I would not have allowed it to fall so easily."
Harry twitched. His own words from only a few hours ago replayed in the confines of his mind.
Too similar. Too much like me to be mad.
"Aragog was right." Harry sighed, sinking into his four-poster, "Of course he was -"
Stupid, miserable spider.
But the faint, shivering form of Hagrid danced before his mind's eye, being pulled into a cold, miserable cell in the middle of the ocean. Harry slowly straightened up.
I'll find the monster, and the Heir. Just as much for Hagrid as for me.
"I'm going to fix your mistake." Harry promised, "I'm going to find the real Heir, and the real monster. I already have a lead."
Harry swore could feel the conflict within the girl. But at last, her words swam upon the diary's surface once more.
"Then be careful, very careful. The last thing I want is for my mistake to cost you your life."
"It won't." Harry dipped his quill in ink again, "But I'll do anything I have to do to figure this out properly."
I've lost my home once. I'm not going to lose it again.
Something told him that Emily might've once been the same.
"Anything?" the girl asked, "That's a dangerous word, Harry."
And it was. But it wasn't far from the truth; in fact, it was far closer than Harry would admit.
-(xXx)-
"You look like shit."
Harry glanced up. Nott was watching him carefully, the book sitting just before him now long forgotten.
The first two weeks of April had passed by rather quickly - something that both pleased and irritated Harry. They had been quite horrible, in his opinion. Aside from the time he spent with Daphne, Nott, and Emily, Harry wished he could simply vanish. He had even been tempted to start using his Invisibility Cloak, but Daphne had possessed enough sense to talk him out of it.
Still, there was only so much he could take. Harry didn't show up to breakfast much anymore. He ate lunch and dinner with the school, but only on the weekdays, when he had to. On the weekends - days such as today - Harry would simply get food from the kitchens. The Hogwarts house elves were more than willing to provide him with a suitable meal.
Harry turned back to the book in front of him, silently flipping the page. Countless hours had been devoted to researching Slytherin's monster, and Harry found himself too tired to speak. There were bags beneath his eyes, which were red and filled with fatigue.
"I'll sleep properly tonight." Harry assured him half-heartedly. His eyes combed over the edge of his page.
Not that I have a choice. The Hufflepuffs probably think I stayed up all night torturing muggleborns.
"Why didn't you sleep properly last night?" asked Nott, "Or the night before that? Or the night before that?"
"I was worried." mumbled Harry, "About Hogwarts."
From beside him, Daphne frowned.
"You're afraid it'll close down, aren't you?" she whispered quietly. Harry moved to shake his head - but he paused before nodding softly.
"It isn't something you need to worry about." Nott promised, "The chances of Hogwarts closing down are slim to none."
"The chances of Dumbledore being sacked were slim to none too." Harry pointed out.
"It was higher than you might think." Nott straightened up, a serious look etched upon his features, "Dumbledore's got just as many enemies as he does friends. It wouldn't surprise me if the entire board of governors hate him, and if they don't, it wouldn't surprise me if Malfoy's father blackmailed the others."
"Maybe." agreed Harry, "But I don't care. It's still possible, and until it isn't, I can't rest."
"You mean you won't."
Harry clenched his jaw, returning his attention to the tome that sat before him. Nott glanced at it well. For a moment, he seemed unperturbed - but a second later he was staring at Harry with wide eyes.
"How in Merlin's name did you get that?"
"The Restricted Section." Harry muttered indifferently, "I nicked it."
Daphne looked between the two boys, her head eventually falling to face the book. She glanced at it curiously, quickly turning back to Harry.
"What is it?"
"'Potente Maxima.'" whispered Nott, "It's about different sorts of stronger magic. I've wanted to read it for a while now."
"You can read it when I'm done." Harry promised, "So long as you sneak it back in."
"Potent magics," Daphne translated, her eyes narrowed as she glanced back at the book, "I'm assuming this isn't something you want to be caught reading?"
"It's not that bad." said Harry, shrugging, "Just a book about the more powerful facets of magic. Things like basilisk venom, and phoenix tears, and -"
"The Unforgivables?" interrupted Daphne, eyebrows raised.
Those, too.
Their incantations weren't within the book - Harry had already checked. Neither was the incantation for the Fiendfyre Curse, nor the incantation for the Storm-Conjuring one. The book merely imparted knowledge - nothing more, nothing less.
A small part of Harry wished this wasn't so. Some of these spells were horrible, really horrible - but every time Harry thought of Slytherin's monster, they felt slightly less so.
If the monster was dead, Hogwarts wouldn't have to close.
Whatever the creature was, it was certainly a killer. Someone had died the last time it had been unleashed upon the school, and Harry would be far from surprised if it happened again.
But another small part of him sang a different tune.
She's a killer, too. Voldemort.
Harry turned the page, his eyes resting upon the vivid emerald drawing that sat upon ancient parchment. In bold letters at the top of the page, 'The Killing Curse' was written clear as day.
Harry flicked past the page, his eyes hardening.
I'll find another way.
Harry cracked his neck, returning his gaze to the book as he began to read.
'Though there are countless spells, artefacts and enchantments that aim to destroy, there exist only three forms of magic that exist with the sole purpose of destruction: Basilisk venom, the Fiendfyre Curse, and The Killing Curse. Each works in slightly different ways, though they all have the same final result.
The first is capable of destroying all that is not inert with ease.
The second is a magical fire that is easy to produce yet notoriously difficult to control. It seeks to consume everything, and should the user not control the flames, the magical fire shall consume the caster as well.
The final is the Killing Curse, the destroyer of life. It rips the soul from the body, forcefully sending one from this world to the next.
Though each is unique in its own right, there is much that the three have in common. Their traces, for one, are practically indistinguishable. Thanatos, an Ancient Greek Wizard with a fondness for murder, attributed this to the intent behind each of the three magics. To work effectively and truly, they all require an unwavering desire to destroy entirely. For the Fiendfyre and the Killing Curse, the intent is that of the caster. He was stumped, however, by the Basilisk venom. Was it the intent of the holder that mattered (the one who possesed the venom, be it the Basilisk or the owner), or was it the creature's intent itself? Neither solution seemed viable to him; the former would mean that Basilisk venom could, in some cases, be harmless, and the latter required the creature to be eternally enraged (which, according to Thanatos, was unlikely as well).
A collection of notes once belonging to Herpo the Foul (which were recently discovered by a group of researchers off the coast of Greece) helped shed some light on the matter. According to the Ancient Dark Wizard (who is well-known to have been the first creator of the Basilisk), the magical snake is indeed highly aggressive and irritable. Over the course of their lives, their minds are slowly distorted by an overwhelming desire to kill. Herpo privately notes that his own Basilisk (Amphisbaena, who would live for nearly a thousand years) spent most of its time locked deep within his dungeons, lest it unleash its destructive hunger upon the world. It was this desire to destroy that made both Herpo the Foul and his Basilisk so widely feared in Ancient times.
Herpo the Foul is additionally accredited with many other powerful uses and implementations of magic. To read more about them, turn to page four hundred and seventy-six.'
Harry silently slammed the book shut. He tapped his fingers gently upon the cover, his tired eyes gazing at nothing as he lost himself to his thoughts.
Those three could probably kill the monster, whatever it is.
But Harry didn't know the incantation for the Fiendfyre Curse, nor did he believe for a moment that he could control it. The Killing Curse wasn't even an option - Harry had pushed it aside long ago.
How is somehow obtaining basilisk venom the easiest option?
Harry looked up as Daphne picked up the book, quickly shoving it within Harry's bag.
"What are you -"
Madam Pince slowly loomed into view from behind Nott. She watched the boy with beady eyes, suspicion lining her features. After a long moment she slowly turned away. Harry turned back to Daphne.
"Thanks."
"You can thank me by getting some rest." said Daphne seriously, "If you had slept properly, you would've noticed her too."
Harry nodded tiredly. Nott, who had been glaring at Madam Pince's retreating form, turned back to Daphne as she finished speaking. His lips slid into a thin line.
"It's strange, hearing you actually care about someone." he noted, yawning, "Aside from Tracey and your sister, of course."
"Funny, aren't you?" snipped Daphne, her voice plain. But as she turned back to him, Harry saw something in her eyes - something he didn't need Legilimency to see.
Harry smiled, and Daphne smiled back, her eyes shining.
-(xXx)-
"That's it, that's it!" shouted Lockhart, prancing around the front of the classroom as he waved his wand wildly, "Now, all together - Finestra!"
Almost all of the wine glasses within the room - including the one that sat upon Lockhart's desk - remained just as sturdy as ever.
They were halfway through April now. The Hogwarts skies were as dull as ever, and the air within the castle was just as tense. Lockhart seemed to be in a good mood, it was true - but he was one of very few.
If it was anyone else I'd have thought they were the Heir of Slytherin.
Not Lockhart, though. He couldn't possibly be Heir of Slytherin - but if he was, Harry had no choice but to commend him on his performance; the man was a master at playing the fool.
Everyone else seemed to be in nearly as bad a mood as Harry. No one knew when the next attack would be, and with Dumbledore gone, everyone felt far more vulnerable than before.
Reparo.
Harry's shattered wine glass slowly mended itself. He gently pushed it out of the way, gazing around the room. Once again, he was the first to finish. Nott seemed close though, and surprisingly, both Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom didn't seem too far behind.
They aren't looking very good.
They looked much like he had just a few days ago. Their eyes were red, their skin pale and dry. They looked angry, too.
I suppose that must make it easier to break things. This spell must not be that hard for them at the moment.
The rest of the class had long since given up trying at all. Harry watched as Seamus and Dean fiddled with a paper plane near the front of the room. Behind them, Susan Bones was showing Hannah Abbot a drawing of some sort. Many more were whispering amongst themselves, their glasses long forgotten. For a few minutes this went unnoticed - but at long last Lockhart stopped prancing around.
"Come now, everyone, chins up!" said Lockhart loudly as he took in the glum expressions on everyone's face, "Things are already starting to get better! The Heir of Slytherin is gone, and the -"
"What do you mean, 'The Heir of Slytherin is gone?'" remarked Ron scathingly from the front of the room. Harry found himself nodding silently in agreement.
"Well, Hagrid of course!" exclaimed Lockhart, "But don't you worry - I can assure you he won't hurt anyone ever again. If he did, he'd have me to deal with!"
Heat bubbled within Harry's blood. His heart burnt like magma, and his palms balled up like molten rocks.
Ignore him. It isn't worth it. Ignore it.
"Always knew there was something fishy about that fellow." remarked Lockhart as he strode back towards the front, "Can't say I'm surprised it's him, not at all."
"What makes you think it's him?" Ron snapped. Lockhart looked momentarily taken aback, but answered a moment later.
"It isn't anything to concern yourself with." he said in a condescending manner, "That's what us teachers are here for."
Harry glared at him.
"Or maybe it just isn't him." he hissed, gritting his teeth.
The entire class seemed to hold their breath as he spoke. Ron turned to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion - but he stiffly nodded his head. Harry ignored the warning in Daphne's gaze, instead turning back to Lockhart.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Harry." said Lockhart knowingly, waving a finger, "I just happen to know a tad bit more about this than you do."
"Then what's the monster?" asked Harry stubbornly, "What proof is there that it's Hagrid?"
Ron was nodding furiously from across the room. Lockhart was growing irritated now; he looked between the two of them, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.
"As I said," he began once more, "I'm afraid I know just a bit more than you do."
"Like what?" exclaimed Harry and Ron at the same time.
"Enough!" said Lockhart, his hands on his waist, "You - yes, both of you - up here, right this instant!"
Harry roughly pushed himself out of his seat, making his way up the aisle. He pointedly ignored the looks Daphne sent him. A few seconds later he was standing beside Ron, facing the class from just behind Lockhart's desk.
"Now then." said Lockhart, brandishing his wand as he pointed it at the wine glass on his desk, "If the two of you have got enough time to argue when you're very clearly wrong - I suppose you'll have finished your spellwork, haven't you?" he tapped the glass with the tip of his wand, "Go on. Give it a go!"
Ron glared at the Defense professor, but Lockhart didn't budge. Swearing under his breath, the redhead pointed his wand at the glass.
"Finestra."
The glass cracked slightly, but it remained intact. Lockhart nodded knowingly once more, an irritatingly smug expression set on his face. Harry looked away, glancing around the room. He was surprised to see just how many people were suddenly paying attention.
Because they think it's me. They think I'm just pretending.
Harry felt his blood grow hot again. His palm wrapped tightly around his wand as he slashed it across his chest.
"Finestra."
The harsh pattering of glass rang through the classroom as every single wine glass shattered at once.
-(xXx)-
"It still felt good." scrawled Harry stubbornly, "It felt nice to prove the git wrong."
"I don't doubt it, Harry, but what you did was very foolish. Whether or not he was insulting Hagrid does not change that."
"I know, I know." Harry paused, fiddling with his quill, "I shouldn't have lost control of my emotions."
"No, you shouldn't have." agreed Emily, "That's just one more reason to practice your Occlumency."
"I have been practicing." Harry promised, "I just didn't bother to use it."
I didn't want to.
Though he had not written it, Harry was sure Emily knew what he was thinking.
"Either way, you've stuck yourself in another undesirable situation." wrote Emily, "Your peers may see this as another point in favour of you being the Heir of Slytherin."
"I didn't even do anything!"
"Children are both naïve and foolish, Harry. That includes you."
Harry huffed, pushing the diary aside. He retrieved it a moment later, quill in hand.
"It won't happen again." he promised, "I'll make sure of it."
"I know you will, Harry."