Chapter 22, everybody! Got a good head of steam going on this, so we'll be having updates for the next couple of weeks (all right!).
I figured with Slughorn as the Head of Slytherin and not having to kiss up to Death Eaters would have Slytherin house be more neutral and less…you know, all around lousy as it is in canon. Hence, the password being more holiday-themed—and still fitting since mistletoe is a poisonous parasite. The scientific name used is for English mistletoe, by the way.
Thanks for the review, guest! Glad you've been enjoying the story thus far! :D
TroyWeb, thanks for the review! Yes…we need more Percy-centric fanfics. Very good question….
Stuck in Wonderland 8510, thanks for the review! Ah, that was accidental, since I haven't watched it. ^^ But Percy is a good brother and Dumbledore is doing his best with psychology. :D We should actually be good for the rest of September, so stay tuned! :D
Harry Potter © JK Rowling
Christmas morning dawned bright and snowy and with Hermione waking them by dint of introducing presents to their faces.
"Wake up!" she barked, ignoring Ron's groaning. "I've been up for hours already, adding lacewings to the potion—it's ready."
Harry sat up so quickly he dislodged Snips, sending him rolling off the pillow with a yeep! "It is?"
"It looks just like the book says it should," she said. "Now all we need to do is get the bits of the people we need, and make sure they're not going to stumble in on us while we're grilling Malfoy."
Harry could agree that would be problematic.
"So who are you getting then?" Ron asked blearily, yawning broadly before scrubbing at his face.
"I already got mine!" Hermione said brightly, producing a small vial. "Remember during dueling club when Millicent Bullstrode had me in the headlock?"
"Was this before or after Professor Flitwick broke up mine and Malfoy's duel the first time?" Harry asked.
"Kind of during—she left this on my robes, and she's gone home for the holidays—I'll just tell people I decided to come back."
"I suppose we can nail them during the Christmas feast," Ron offered. "In the meantime—presents."
Harry was quite pleased with the presents this year, mostly because he was still new to the idea of getting actual presents.
His usual sort of present from the Dursleys kind of cemented the difference and that he should be questioning it more, he mused, examining the toothpick they had given him with a lot less of a disparaging look than Snips and Hedwig (who had delivered it along with Neville's gift) were giving it.
"I mean I guess I could use it to pick locks?" Harry mused, putting it aside. "Or knitting. Um, you guys didn't—"
"It was a very lovely tea cozy Harry," Hermione assured him.
"I love the color," Ron agreed, holding his up—it was fuzzy and aggressively orange.
"I think I'm going to have to give up on hats for now," Harry sighed.
"Try scarves, mate—they're like long rectangles."
Neville gave him an all-in-one pocket pruning shear (with the note that he wasn't entirely certain what Harry would use it for outside Herbology), while Hagrid got him some treacle tart and Hermione got him a color-coded binder that was bigger on the inside ("For keeping your homework organized—Ron gets one too"). Mrs. Weasley also gave him some food and a new sweater—and for Snips, a new tiny scarf and small trapper hat that he was able to tie under his chin.
Those were wrapped in a little note that said that she had a better idea of what to make Snips now that she saw him, although the mittens were giving her some trouble (she confided that she might have to resort to knitting them full-sized and then shrinking them). She also told Harry he was welcome to come back next summer, which warmed him as much as the sweater did.
The Christmas feast was interesting. Since there really wasn't enough people per house to even fill one table, three of them had vanished along with the high table and everyone was seated at one. Dumbledore was encouraging everyone to try one of the Christmas crackers, and Hagrid and Slughorn were getting more bombastic the more eggnog they drank.
The noise definitely made it easy to ignore Malfoy making snide comments about Harry's sweater. And even better—most everyone who had stayed were also people who did not think Harry was the heir, which meant that for once this year he could eat without any fuss.
Near the end, Hermione slipped off to attend to the potion, giving Harry and Ron a couple of pastries with the admonition make sure Crabbe and Goyle eat these.
There was much debate on just how, since of course they couldn't just give it to them, and they needed to be sure they saw them—finally settled on levitating the pastries in the hall and just hoping Crabbe and Goyle were that thick.
Crabbe and Goyle were indeed that thick.
The two larger Slytherins were levitated into a closet and relieved of some of their hairs and their shoes—Harry and Ron had some trouble getting the door closed, finally managed and took off for Myrtle's bathroom.
Hermione was bursting with impatience when they finally arrived. "Well?" she demanded.
"Got them," Harry said, Ron holding his up too. Hermione nodded, started doling out samples of the Polyjuice Potion.
"This should last an hour," she said, handing the samples to them. "I've got some Slytherin robes for you and a change of clothes—put the hairs in."
Snips watched carefully as they added their hairs, took a double-take at Hermione's as they lifted up the cups.
They toasted, got ready to knock the Polyjuice potion back—Harry figured quick like cough syrup, before he could think too much of essence of Goyle being in there—
Snips flew up, squawking and carrying on and trying very hard to keep Hermione from drinking her share.
"Snips, stop it!" Hermione scolded, ducking his continued assault before finally knocking back her potion. "Ergh."
Ron was already green. "I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered, right before running for the nearest stall.
"Me too," Hermione said, running for a stall as well, Snips flying behind her. Harry had only a few seconds to wonder about that before the pain hit his stomach as well—he bolted for a stall with the intention of throwing up.
He didn't, but he felt like he had gone through the wringer after a minute of pain. Everything just felt wrong—not like "wearing someone else's clothes" wrong, but deep-seated in the skin wrong.
Being turned into someone else probably did that to a person.
He changed clothes, stepped out of the stall—started back at Crabbe, who started back at him—
"Harry?"
"Ron!" Harry gasped—Goyle's voice came out instead.
"This is too weird," Ron said, shaking his head and pacing away. Harry looked around for Hermione—er, Millicent—saw Snips perched on top of a stall and peering in.
"Snips," Harry sighed, going over to the stall. "Hermione, are you okay?"
"I—I don't think I can go with you guys!" she squeaked.
"Hermione, come off it," Ron said, pacing back. "We know Bullstrode's ugly, we don't look that great either—come on, you said we had an hour!"
"Just—just go on without me!"
Harry looked at Ron, befuddled—
"Much better," Ron said, nodding. "You have no idea how weird it was to see Goyle thinking."
Harry sighed, looked up at Snips—who waved them off before darting into the stall.
"Okay," Harry said; headed for the door. "Come on."
It occurred to Harry just how much their plan to find the Slytherin common room relied on Snips.
It also occurred to him how much they relied on him to navigate the castle, since their only conclusive knowledge of where the Slytherin dorm could be was in the dungeons, and there were a lot of dungeons.
"We could see if Slughorn would buy us forgetting where the dorm is—Crabbe and Goyle are dim enough," Ron posed.
"Professor Slughorn and Hagrid passed out about an hour ago," Harry pointed out. Paused to poke his head in. "And I don't see any more Slytherins—"
"There you are!"
Harry and Ron both jumped—spun to see Malfoy stalking to them, looking irritated.
"Don't tell me you're planning to go back in there and stuff yourselves more," he spat. "Come on."
Harry and Ron exchanged hopeful glances as they fell into step behind Malfoy—maybe he was leading them into something incriminating.
The Slytherin dorm was not in and of itself incriminating, nor was the password (Viscum Album, which Harry recognized from Potions and Herbology as mistletoe), although the view of the lake from well under the surface was cool.
"Y'think they see the kraken through those?" Ron asked Harry in an undertone.
"We'll have to ask Ross after this," Harry whispered to Ron. "Or Donald."
"What are you two whispering about?" Malfoy demanded.
"Nothing," they chimed quickly.
"Ugh, idiots," Malfoy muttered, flopping into a tall chair by the fire. "Well? Sit down!"
They did so, Ron constantly flicking glances at the floor to ceiling windows.
"Come off it, Crabbe," Malfoy snapped. "The mermaids aren't going to be swimming by tonight!"
"Mermaids?" Harry echoed, flatfooted. Of course there were mermaids, there were dragons and three-headed dogs and unicorns—at this rate he wouldn't be surprised if Medusa and Pegasus were real.
"Ugh, both of you," Malfoy groaned, before sitting forward. "Well? Did you see Potter's face at dinner? First time he's even bothered to show it since that business with the snake—at this rate I'm inclined to believe he's the heir, and do you know how sickening that is? A Gryffindor as the Heir of Slytherin? Don't make me sick!"
Harry didn't really need the nudge to the side Ron gave him. "But…he talked to that snake, didn't he?"
"I know it's hard, but don't be thick, Goyle—Potter adores Mudbloods—just look at how he pals around with Granger! And he's friends with the Weasleys, who might as well be Muggles—have you seen them?"
Now it was Ron's turn to get the elbow to the side.
"Uh—so if it isn't Potter, then who is it?" Ron asked.
"If I knew don't you think I'd tell you?" Malfoy snapped. "I asked father, but he won't tell me anything about the last time it was opened—granted, it was before his time, but he says it'd be suspicious if I knew too much about it." Malfoy glowered at that, brightened. "But he said that the last time it was opened, a mudblood died—I hope it's Granger this time around."
Ron jumped up, to be quickly yanked back by Harry.
Malfoy shot him a confused look. "What's the matter with you?"
"Th-thought I saw a mermaid," Ron tried.
Harry ignored Malfoy's dismissive snort. "Do you know if they caught whoever did it last time?"
"Oh yeah," Malfoy said. "Whoever it was was expelled—they're probably still in Azkaban."
"Where?"
"Oi—the wizard prison, Goyle. I swear any slower and you'd go backwards." Flop back in his chair, disgruntled. "Father says I need to keep my head down and let the Heir do his job—clean up all that mudblood filth, but stay out of it. Doesn't need any more attention on the Malfoy name after the raid last week."
Ron perked up. "Oh?"
"Ugh, Crabbe, you're as bad as Goyle—the Ministry raided our manor last week. Luckily they didn't find anything—and lucky we got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor."
"Ah," Ron said, and Harry could tell it was taking all his energy not to run to the Owlery and send a letter to his dad tipping him off.
"Agh, why didn't the Chamber open a few years ago?" Malfoy moaned, putting the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Trevor Carson was stupid enough to be muggleborn—father told me the old Potions master Snape had the right mind about things—not all this fretting and fussing like Slughorn does. Snape would have put Potter in his place a long time ago."
"Sounds charming."
"He had the right idea about mudbloods, let me tell you—"
"Oi, Malfoy!" Ross Ambrose said, coming over. "Can I borrow Crabbe and Goyle for a minute? I need some extra muscle. I'll put in a good word with Slughorn if you do."
Malfoy eyed him narrowly—it wasn't lost on Harry that despite his talk, Malfoy was desperate to get into the Slug Club. Finally waved them off, leaning back in his chair.
"Fine, fine—Crabbe, Goyle, you heard the man."
Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances, followed Ross up the stairs into the archways leading to the dorm's foyer.
Once in the shadows there, Ross turned to them.
"Hello Harry, hi Ron."
They both started. "How did you know?" Ron demanded—clapped his hand to his mouth when it came out sounding like him.
"I was sitting across the way reading a book when I happened to glance up—I know those two meatheads don't have a scar and red hair."
"Ah," Harry muttered, digging into the pockets of the expanding clothes he was wearing—well, the clothes weren't expanding, he was just shrinking. Finally found his glasses and put them on. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize, just explain."
"We still suspected Malfoy, and we thought he might tell Crabbe and Goyle something he wouldn't spill to anyone else."
"Which he did," Ron said, grinning. "I have a letter to write."
"But not about the Chamber."
Ross nodded, a hand to his face. "Hmm-hmm…that's clever, actually. And how'd you do it?"
"Promise not to tell?"
"Slytherin's honor."
"Give us a frame rate?" Ron asked.
"Eh, mostly it's I won't rat you out unless it directly benefits me and doesn't come back to bite me, so you're good."
"Polyjuice Potion," Harry said. "Hermione made it, I helped—Hermione!"
"Yeah," Ross said, when Harry tripped and fell. "You might want to change clothes first."
Ross was quick to enlist Fergus's help in getting them dressed in 'sensible clothing'—all in Slytherin colors.
"Honestly," Fergus teased. "If you're going to sneak into Slytherin you need to at least make sure your clothes fit—no wonder you're in Gryffindor."
"The plot was appropriately Slytherin, it just sort of fell apart at the end," Ross offered.
"Does the plot involve wearing boats for shoes?"
"You might want to return those to Crabbe and Goyle when they come back in," Harry offered, tying shoes that fit much better.
"Oh goodness I don't know what the plot was but I like it already—you'll be needing to clue me in."
"I'll tell you if you agree to stop selling wards against me," Harry shot back.
"Ooh, bargaining, very Slytherin—that'll be easy, considering I stopped doing that weeks ago; didn't feel in good taste after the fight in the great hall."
Well, at least there was that. "Slytherin's honor?"
"Of course."
"We used Polyjuice Potion to get in and question Malfoy."
"They thought he'd spill to Crabbe and Goyle," Ross offered.
"Very clever," Fergus said, nodding. "Except I personally wouldn't trust those two to hold a glass of water, let alone a secret."
"We didn't know unless we tried," Ron said, hopping to his feet.
"Right," Harry said, doing likewise. "Thanks—we'll return these—"
"Nah, keep 'em," Fergus said, waving them off. "Next time try some glamour charms, they're less chancy than Polyjuice. And I'm sure Donald won't object to one of his baby brothers getting sorted into Slytherin."
"I'm starting to wonder how extensive our family's going to be at the end of the year," Ron said as they headed to the door.
"Me too," Harry said, reaching the door before rounding on Ross and Fergus to give them the squinty-eye.
"You have mermaids," he accused.
Ross blinked. "Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn't know about those."
"Work on glamours and we'll get back to you," Fergus said.
Harry and Ron sped back to Myrtle's bathroom, making much better time than they would have in Crabbe and Goyle's robes—skidded in, ran to the stall Hermione had been in, banged on the door.
"Hermione, open up!" Ron yipped.
"We've got loads to tell you!" Harry added.
"Malfoy has a secret chamber under his drawing room!"
"And Slytherin has mermaids, Hermione!"
"I—I'm not coming out!" Hermione squeaked.
Ron and Harry exchanged blank glances. "Why not? We wore off a while back—you should be fine—"
Moaning Myrtle ghosted out of the stall, grinning broadly.
"Oh, wait till you see," she said. "It's awful."
"Hermione?" Harry asked, fully concerned now.
"If you don't come out we're breaking the door!" Ron said.
Hermione finally opened the door—
And Harry and Ron realized just why Snips had been so adamant that she not drink her potion.
"It was a cat hair on Millicent's robes," Hermione sobbed. "And the potion isn't for animal transformations! Just—look at me—look at my face!"
"Look at your tail!" Ron said, looking like he was trying to hold in a laugh.
Harry was grateful that Snips lit into him, saving him the trouble of doing so himself.