CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN –
The Chamber of Secrets: Re-Opened
The time passed quickly. The lessons with Lockhart were so far beyond worthless, Harry had forgotten what it looked like on the way past. The only thing he remembered about almost two months of lessons was the 'blindness' incident.
Harry sat stoically, watching Lockhart flounce about the front of his classroom. "This, children, is how to defeat an enemy that is intent in blinding you." The class watched as he almost blinded himself, flailing his wand about.
Harry stood. "Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Will that technique work against any opponent?"
"Of course it will. In fact, I used it against-"
"I'd love to see it in action."
Harry whistled between his teeth, and Hedwig came soaring into the room, a streak of white against the dingy dark roof. "Hedwig, the professor is demonstrating a technique to defend against opponents trying to blind him." The owl narrowed her eyes, staring at the bright yellow target. "I would love to see it in action. So..." He trailed off, and smiled. "Go get him!"
She shot off his shoulder like a rocket, the avian equivalent of a smart missile. Lockhart, seeing the fearsome bird of prey (even when about to be killed, his writer's instinct kicked in), stumbled backwards. As he fell to the ground, Hedwig flared her wings, landing gently on his chest and pecking him once on the head.
"I have to be honest, professor, it doesn't look that effective."
Ever since Hermione's birthday, nothing had happened. No random attacks on Muggleborn students. No massive Legilimency induced headaches. Nothing. Harry, even with his excellent memory, was beginning to worry. He couldn't really remember what had happened during the six weeks between Hermione's birthday and Halloween in the original timeline, and that bothered him.
Deciding not to worry about it, he'd been helping his friends begin their work on Occlumency, not to mention some general physical fitness and broom skills. They groused, bitched and moaned, but each of them completed their assigned 'homework'.
What hadn't helped with Harry's continued sanity was that, with him and Hermione being recognised as a couple, some of the more bigoted, and stupid, witches had decided that the line of Potter did not need to be 'dirtied' for a second generation by mixing Potter blood with a Muggleborn. Regardless of the fact that they were 12 and 13 years old, people had decided that Harry and Hermione, in the words of Cho Chang, 'must not breed another dirty mongrel. Harry must have an appropriate Pureblood to cleanse the taint from him'. The girls had decided to act on this one day, and Harry had not been impressed.
"So we're all agreed? We get Potter alone, and show him what proper witches are like?" Cho Chang was looking forward to this; Harry Potter should be dating her, not hanging around with a human/beaver hybrid. She was fairly certain that she would be able to tempt him away on her own, but if not, then, honestly, what teenage boy was going to turn down the idea of a group of girls, his for the taking? She was even jealous of that new weirdo first-year. How dare she just snog him after her sorting. That boy should be mine.
"Yeah. I'm still annoyed at Granger for keeping him off the market. Bloody Muggleborns. They don't know what it takes to please a real wizard."
Luna was sitting at the next table, doing her homework. That statement was plainly ludicrous. Her mother had ordered a package from a Muggle service, where she learned something called Victoria's Secret, and her father had been smiling like a maniac for a week afterwards.
She wasn't quite certain, but she was very interested in learning what the secret was.
"It's Wednesday, right? Second years have Herbology as last lesson of the day, don't they?"
Marietta nodded. She wasn't particularly interested in Potter, but he was obscenely wealthy, and that worked for her. "Yeah. Why don't we ask Granger for some Herbology help? Greenhouse three, I think." The girls all nodded. Greenhouse three was where Professor Sprout had managed to cultivate over twenty of the rare Assyrian plant Mimbulus Mimbletonia, which looked like a cactus, but, rather than spines, had pustles of a defensive toxin, harmless to humans, that was appropriately named 'stink-sap'.
"Perfect. Let's head on down now."
"Hey, Granger, you got a second? Need your help for this homework in Greenhouse three."
Hermione looked at Harry, and nodded to him. "I'll catch up to you in the library."
He smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and then wandered away, while Hermione wandered over to the back of Greenhouse three, where a group was gathered.
As one, the group of girls all poked their plants, allowing the torrent of stink-sap to fly into the air, where it all fell onto... Hermione.
Hermione felt the tears well up. What did I do to deserve this? She asked herself, blinking rapidly to clear the tears away.
One of the girls approached her, keeping a hand over her nose. "Now, maybe you'll understand!" The girl hissed. "Stay away from Potter! He deserves a real girl, not some ugly little know-it-all freak like you!"
A coughing from behind Hermione drew everyone's attention. Hermione spun round, to come face-to-face with her best, truest friend. Harry was stood there, staring at Hermione, before he shifted his glance to the group of girls.
When looking at Hermione, his eyes were full of love. Not pity, or sympathy for her predicament. Just a support and love that left her almost breathless. When he shifted his gaze, his eyes seemed to ignite with flames. Standing there, Hermione could almost feel the heat of Harry's rage, directed at the girls who had done this to her.
"Why?" He asked, his voice a sharp contrast to his eyes, icy cold.
One of the girls, a third-year with far too much cleavage, swayed over to Harry. "Harry, darling," She simpered, setting Hermione's teeth on edge. "Why would you want to be with this... thing?" She asked, staring at Hermione with disgust.
Harry stepped around her, conjuring a tissue, which he used to wipe Hermione's face with. She looked at him, feeling very scared at being so close and smelling so vile.
Harry leaned close, completely ignoring the smell. Because of his actions in the previous time-line, he was used to smells that would render most people sick. A little stink-sap was nothing. He stared into her eyes, smiling softly at her.
"Harry... how can you stand to be so close to me?" Hermione whispered.
His smile widened slightly. "No matter what, Hermione," he whispered, "you are always beautiful to me." With that, he leaned closer and kissed her. It wasn't a snogfest that curled her toes, or left her breathless, but it was gentle, tender, and filled with passion. After a moment, Harry stepped away, waving his wand at her. The stink-sap was banished away, and air-freshening charms made breathing a lot easier.
She smiled warmly at him, raising her hand to her tingling lips.
Harry looked up at the group of girls stood there, gaping at him. With a jolt, he gave his thoughts on the matter. "Bitches, leave!" He snapped. As one, they fled from the greenhouse, not wanting to get on his bad side.
Halloween was rapidly approaching, leaving Harry to wonder what the hell to do. His best plan was to carry on with copying the original time-line, which meant attending Nick's Deathday party. He didn't really want to do that. It was awful last time, thanks to the array of dreadful-smelling food laid out.
More to the point, he wasn't sure how he could wrangle an invite. Since Nearly-Headless Nick was the Gryffindor house ghost, and he was a Ravenclaw, Nick had no reason to invite him. He decided to seek him out, and see what happened.
Harry found the Gryffindor ghost loitering in one of the classrooms near Gryffindor tower, reading through a translucent letter. "Blast them!"
"Sir Nicholas?" Harry called out politely. "Is everything okay, sir?"
Nicholas looked up. "Ah, young Potter. Delighted to see you, dear boy. Is there something I can do for you?"
"I was just having a wander round the school, sir. Heard you cussing. Is everything all right?"
Nick slumped. "My request to join the headless hunt has been denied again. You'd have thought being hit in the next 47 times with a blunt hatchet would have qualified me, wouldn't you?"
Harry nodded diplomatically, before a crazy idea occurred to him. "Sir... why don't you just remove it? I mean... you're already dead, so it won't hurt you."
"And how do I do that?" Nick snapped. "As you so rightfully pointed out, I'm dead, and I don't have a sword."
"The Bloody Baron does, sir. Why not get him to take it off the rest of the way?"
Nick looked introspective for a moment, before shaking his head. "The Bloody Baron, Mr. Potter, would not help me. It's against his philosophy to render assistance." He sighed. "It was a good idea, though."
Harry held up his hand. "I might have an idea... What would you be prepared to do in order to join the Headless hunt?"
Nick floated closer. "Almost anything, Potter. What do you have in mind?"
"Walk with me, Sir Nicholas."
Harry led the reluctant house ghost to the first floor, a set of rather dingy girls' toilets. Inside, they could hear the sobbing and moaning of the appropriately named ghost.
"Harry... we really don't want to go in here." Nick warned gently. "She's not the most sociable ghost in Hogwarts, even at the best of times."
"Risk is part of the game if you wanna sit in that chair." He muttered to himself as he pushed open the door, before wincing; why was he remembering movie quotes? "Come on, Nick. Don't get if you don't try." He led the ghost in.
"Myrtle? You in here?" Harry called out. "I'd like to speak to you." He stopped in the middle of the room, resisting the urge to open the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and kill the serpent inside.
"What do you want?" Myrtle snapped, her head just visible above one of the toilet bowls. "This is a girls' bathroom. You're both boys."
Sir Nicholas straightened up. "I assure you, madam, that I am no 'boy'. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."
"You're still male." Myrtle snapped. "And what do you want? I'm busy."
Harry cleared his throat, getting the attention of the bickering ghosts. "Myrtle, I'm Harry. I apologise for intruding on your time, but I have a favour to ask of you, and possibly something to offer in return."
Myrtle stared at Harry. "What?"
"Would you be kind enough to steal the Bloody Baron's sword and remove what's left of Sir Nicholas' neck?"
Myrtle gaped. "What?"
Harry resisted the urge to groan. I am speaking in English, aren't I? Didn't look at the snake... not speaking French... "Would you be willing to complete Sir Nicholas' beheading, so that he can join the Headless Hunt?"
She looked at Harry, then Nick, then back to Harry. "What's in it for me?" She pouted.
"Would you wait for a moment?" Harry gestured Nick over, so he could whisper quietly to him. "Nick, this is your chance."
Nick nodded. "What does she want, though?"
"Nick..." Harry wasn't sure how to continue. "Er... well, she looks to be about sixteen or so... and you know what sixteen year old girls are like nowadays..."
The old ghost reared back. "Absolutely not! It's not proper!"
Harry just shrugged. "Okay, then. If you don't want to lose that last little bit of neck..."
Myrtle drifted over. "Well?"
"I, er..." Nick looked extremely unhappy. "I might be willing to offer you something in return."
Moaning Myrtle's eyes lit up. "Ooh... I know just the thing I want, too." She looked him up and down ashamedly, making Harry shudder.
"Okay... well, Myrtle, if you'll go and grab the Baron's sword, we can get this over with. And then you can do... whatever it is you want to do." Myrtle was gone before he'd finished speaking, presumably to track down the Bloody Baron and nick his weapon.
"I'm really not sure about this, Harry." Nick said pathetically. "I mean... we're from two different eras. In my day, we wouldn't just do this sort of thing."
"Look at the plus side, Nick." Harry said, sort-of supportively. "You can join the Headless hunt. You can spy on all the teachers. Whatever you want. And, yes... you have to do Myrtle a... favour, but I'm sure it won't be that bad. Besides, it's not as though she's unattractive." He smiled warily. "And... well, I'm sure it's been a while for you..."
Myrtle reappeared, wielding a wickedly sharp sword and a manic grin. "I'm ready!"
Nick took a deep breath, ironic for a ghost, and nodded. Myrtle was already swinging, her aim perfect to cleave through the quarter inch of next holding his head in place. It passed through, completing a job 500 years in the making as Nick's head fell to the floor. Myrtle had already dropped the sword, grabbing Nick's head from thin air as it fell.
"Harry!" Nicholas shouted. "Come to my Deathday part on Saturday. Bring your friends!"
Myrtle placed Nick's head on the floor. Harry was already retreating from the room as he saw Myrtle begin to crouch over the head...
It took two days for the mental image to clear itself. Each time Hermione came close to Harry, he began to shudder, before getting over himself and hugging the stuffing out of her.
Friday dawned as a drizzly overcast day. The group attended lessons, ate dinner, and lazed about the common room. Before the group split up for the evening, Harry stood up in front of Hermione. "Now, my dear... I want you to have one thing in mind when you go to bed tonight; 'I will avoid trolls.' 'I will avoid trolls.'" He looked at the rest of his friends. "Come on, guys, say it with me. 'I will avoid trolls.' 'I will avoid trolls.'"
Hermione rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Harry, but she remembered something she'd read in one of her very first magical books; words have power. Only mildly protesting, she joined his chant. "I will avoid trolls. I will avoid trolls."
Hufflepuff loyalty prompted Susan to begin chanting, "I will avoid trolls. I will avoid trolls."
Neville grimaced as he remembered that during Halloween of the previous year, he, along with Weasley and Finnegan, had attempted to claim the credit for Harry's rather dashing heroic rescue. "I will avoid trolls. I will avoid trolls. I will avoid Ron Weasley, which is pretty much the same thing."
Harry smiled at Neville's addendum. "I'm right there with you on that one."
Pretty soon, Harry had the whole of Ravenclaw house chanting "I will avoid trolls." It was, after all, rather good advice, and Ravenclaws were not stupid.
Saturday, 31st October, 1992 was a less than pleasant day. As always, Harry spent a few moments thinking quietly, wondering what his life would have been like if he'd grown up with his parents. Bloody hell... I don't think about this stuff for 364 days a year... and every bloody Halloween, I turn into a pathetic little child. Come on, Potter... suck it up and get the job done. He got up, showered and dressed, and headed down to the common room.
Unlike most mornings, where all three Ravenclaw girls were waiting for him (he was, after all, male and therefore genetically incapable of getting up early), only Luna was there. He had a rough idea of what was going on when she turned to face him, her eyes glowing a shiny white.
"Morning, Luna." Harry said casually. "Anything new for me today?"
"The track remains on course." Luna replied in her ethereal voice. "The changes made do not affect the flow of the river, Warrior. What was will be, now will be as then, and what is will be no different."
"That's good to know." He replied. "Any more information on that brain dump you gave me?"
"The diverted flow remains, yet all is as it will be."
"That's no bloody use whatsoever. Have you thought about writing the greetings for birthday cards?"
Luna's eyes faded to their normal pale silvery colour. "Oh, good morning, Harry. How're you doing today?"
"Morning, Luna. I'm okay, thank you for asking." Harry replied politely. "And yourself?"
"I'm a bit sad, to be honest. One of my friends just lied to me. It's quite upsetting."
Hermione and Padma came charging down the stairs, busy tucking in blouses and buttons. "Morning!" Hermione replied, bounding down into Harry's arms. "How're you doing today, Harry?"
"I'm fine.
"No, really." Hermione insisted. Padma gazed at him with pleading eyes, while Luna smirked knowingly.
Harry wilted under the pressure. "Okay, fine... I hate Halloween. Always have. Something bad always happens on Halloween. That's why we were having that lovely communal chant last night."
"Your friends are here for you." Hermione promised, squeezing him into a Hermi-hug, followed by Padma and Luna. Harry accepted the hugs in the spirit they were given; loving support for a friend.
"Ah... Thank you." He sniffed, sounding suspiciously moist. He cleared his throat. "Time for breakfast."
On the stairs down to the Great Hall, Harry was pounced upon by Susan Bones, who attempted to strangle him and break his neck by throwing him downstairs. After accepting her hug (and trying to realign most of his vertebrae) Harry shook hands with Neville, and carried on, spotting Blaise waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.
Harry nearly drew his wand and cursed his friend when he saw the book tucked under Blaise's arm. "What the hell is that?"
Blaise smirked. "I thought I'd read this fascinating little book my mother sent me. Apparently, Harry... you're a little famous. Something about... er... well, I'm sure that somebody somewhere has heard of you before."
"Have they?" Harry deadpanned. "Marvellous."
Once inside the Great Hall and seated, Harry tore into his breakfast food. After a few mouthfuls, he turned to Blaise. "I've not read that. Why don't you tell me about what happened on Halloween, according to..." He broke off the read the writer's name, "Eva A. Blowhard?"
Blaise opened the book, flipping through to the chapter that truly affected Harry's life. He cleared his throat, before speaking in a dramatic tone. "'...the wizard known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named apparated to the Potter's hidden house in Godric's Hollow, appearing right outside their door.'"
"Hmm..." Harry mused. "Wrong, but please, continue."
"'With a casual flick of his wand, he blew the door to the cottage away, storming inside to catch the Potters completely by surprise.'"
"Again, wrong." Harry replied.
"'James Potter was killed instantly, facing the Dark Lord as he fumbled for his wand.'"
Harry pulled the book away angrily. "Where the hell did this guy get his information from?" He quickly read through the text, committing it to memory. "This is all bollocks. How does this author know anything about what happened that night? There are only two witnesses... one of whom has never been asked, and another who's floating about Albania as a spirit."
Susan cleared her throat. "Well... you were only a baby, Harry. It's not as though you can remember what happened back then." A slowly rising eyebrow was her only response. "Can you?" Her voice was trembling slightly.
"I have pretty much total recall for my entire life, Sue. Practically everything, with a couple of minor exceptions, that I've ever experienced is all filed away in my brain, available to watch in my mind." Harry suddenly became aware that several other people were listening into the conversation. "So, yes... I remember Voldemort's attack on Godric's Hollow."
"What exceptions?" Hermione asked immediately.
"Unconsciousness." Harry replied, then grinned sheepishly. "Or extreme boredom." Which is why I don't remember Flophart's original lessons... I do recall having to act out scenes from his useless fiction...
An irritating voice behind him grabbed his attention. "Why so glum, Potter? Today's a great day! It's the anniversary that You-Know-Who was killed! Cheer up!"
Harry didn't need to turn round to know that it was Ron Weasley irritating the shit out of him. I don't understand why he's such an arsehole this time around. Did being my friend tone him down originally? Or did I just not notice? I remember him being a dick later on, but not this early... He began to run through his memories of the original Ron, stopping when a non-too gentle jab in his back refocused his attention.
"I was speaking to you, Potter." Ron's voice had grown harder. "You will not ignore me."
Slowly, Harry turned round. "You were speaking 'to me', or 'at me', Weasley?" He shook his head sadly. "Are you a complete arse, or are you just hamming it up for me?"
"What? Don't you celebrate the day that the worst menace to Wizarding society was vanquished?" He looked down haughtily at Harry. "Can see why you're not a Gryffindor."
Harry just snorted and turned back. Another jab, this one even harder, prompted him to turn round again. "I didn't dismiss you, Potter. I was talking to you, and I require an answer."
"No, Weasley, you weren't talking to me. You were spouting off without thinking, something I've heard you do quite a lot. Now, I'm going to go back to my breakfast, and you will stop touching me, or I'll break your wrist. You have now been warned." Harry slowly swivelled on the bench, just waiting for Ron to try again, as he inevitably would.
Ron was pissed. A mere little prick like Potter was dismissing him? He drew his wand with his right hand, before reaching forward to poke Potter again with the left. Fortunately for his continued good health, a pair of red-headed guardian angels appeared, each of them grabbing one of Ron's wrists.
"Why don't you sit down and eat your breakfast, Ron?" Fred said in a voice of iron. "Perhaps pissing off the guy who vanquished 'the worst menace to Wizarding society', as you put it, is not a good idea."
"Eat and be silent, Ron." George said in an equally hard voice. "And put your wand away. We don't pull wands on our friends."
"Potter's not my friend!" Ron spat viciously. "Pathetic little loser like him doesn't deserve my friendship."
"You keep thinking that, Ron. He does, however, deserve ours." The twins replied in unison, pushing him back to the Gryffindor table. They quickly returned to Harry's side. "Mind if we join you for breakfast?"
Harry gestured to the bench. "You two are always welcome, guys."
They sat down, one of Harry's left, and the other on Harry's far right, sitting next to Hermione. "Out of curiosity, does that invitation extend to any other Weasleys?"
"Er..." Harry pondered for a moment. "Well... your Mum seems cool... as long as your Dad washes his hands after playing with his rubber ducks, he's welcome, too. I've never met Bill or Charlie, so I don't have a problem with them, and I suspect that Percy's a bit of a dark horse."
"Percy's got a stick up his arse the size of the Whomping Willow, but he ain't a bad guy." Fred said.
"Yeah," George added, "once he gets laid, he'll probably be much cheerier."
"But," Harry continued, "your two youngest siblings aren't exactly impressive. One's a dick, and the other squeaks at me when I'm near, and stares at me when I'm not. To be honest, she creeps me out a bit."
"We did warn you about Ginny." They said in unison.
"Yes..." Harry sighed. "I'm sorry to say there won't be a big Potter/Weasley wedding in this generation. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against squeaky fangirls, but they don't exactly make me all tingly inside."
Fred clapped him gently on the back. "Don't worry about it, mate. If it's not meant to be, it's not meant to be. Don't want to force anything." He grabbed a coffeepot. "Now, what were you saying when we came up?"
George cleared his throat. "Actually, before you say anything, we know that Halloween's a good day for most witches and wizards, but we know that today's the anniversary that you lost your parents. We're sorry."
Harry gripped Fred's shoulder, and reached round Hermione to do the same to George. "Thanks, guys." As Harry's hands dropped to his sides, Hermione squeaked loudly. "Oh, sorry about that, Hermione..."
With a fiery blush, she mock-glared at him. "Behave, Harry."
"So..." Susan said, realising where Harry's hand had gone on it's way past. "You can remember what happened that night?"
"Yes." Harry replied quietly. "Everything. It's not something I wanna discuss at the moment. I've never talked about this."
Fred and George realised that everything was getting a bit depressing, and decided to lighten the mood. "So, Harry... what are you going to be beating up tonight?"
Harry chuckled at the irreverent twins. "Not sure... something'll turn up, though. It always does. I just hope it's not a giant or a Dementor. Oh god... not a werewolf. Bet the bugger'll try and hump my leg."
The sour mood over, people chuckled.
"Oh, I forgot to mention; Nearly Headless Nick invited us all to participate in his Deathday party tonight."
"Not seen him about for a while." The twins said in unison. "We thought maybe he'd moved on."
Harry paled. "Er... no. I sort of did him a favour... I think he's been paying for it."
"Oh?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah... I persuaded another one of the ghosts to lop the rest of his head off. Unfortunately, the other ghost was Myrtle... and I think she squeezed her payment out of him."
Padma nodded slowly. "Yeah... she's been particularly loud the last couple of days. Living up to the 'Moaning' of her name. No-one dares go near her bathroom."
"If you want to keep your sanity intact, and your eyeballs from melting, I strongly recommend you don't." Harry replied sharply. "What I saw her do... man, it's enough to put me off for life, and I'm only twelve." In body. If it wasn't for my Hermione's obscene mind, I'd've been corrupted forever.
"Do I want to know?" Hermione asked, sighing at yet another Harry-changes-everything moment.
"No." He shuddered lightly. "Believe me, if I'd known, I'd never have suggested it..." He shivered again. "So, do we fancy going to see hundreds of ghosts playing head hockey and walking through mouldy food?"
"Ooh, you make it sound so appealing..." Blaise deadpanned.
"It's necessary." Luna interjected suddenly, her eyes glowing.
"Oh, bugger..." Hermione muttered. "I hate that look." She took a quick glance at everyone, who nodded slightly. "Yeah, we're in. Hell's Carrots, you coming, too?"
"Er..."
"Excellent." Hermione said in a polite yet threatening tone. "We'll pick you up outside your tower before it's due to start."
"Yes, Hermione." They sighed in unison.
So... the game's afoot.
The remainder of the day passed fairly slowly. Harry had disappeared after breakfast, and wasn't seen at lunch. During the early afternoon, the friends gathered together to look for him, heading up to his dorm room.
The saw the door to Harry's Portkey box open, and tentatively stepped inside, all of them falling behind Hermione as she stepped forward. "Bloody cowards..." She muttered. "Harry? You in here?"
In front of the console, a head appeared from the floor. "Yello?" He called out. "Hermione? What's up? Is something wrong?"
"No." Hermione replied, stepping forward and perching herself on the edge of the console. "What're you doing?"
"Er... tinkering, mainly." Harry replied sheepishly. "I've never liked Halloween... just felt like doing something with my hands, really."
Fred and George spoke as one. "Harry... I'm sure you could've come up with something better to do with your hands that play with... what is this thing?"
Harry smiled. "Welcome, gentlemen, to my dimensionally transcendental runically-powered armoured Portkey transit device. And yes, I know, it needs a better name."
"You portkeyed through the Hogwarts wards?" Twin one asked.
"How'd you manage that?" Twin two completed.
Right, that's it! Harry snapped. "Which one are you?" He demanded, pointing to the twin on the left.Veritas!
"I'm Fred." The twin replied, looking surprised as the word left his mouth.
With the faintest glint of light, Harry created a small blob of neurologically encoded paint on Fred's forehead. Only he could see it, but he'd forever be able to tell the twins apart. Ha! Finite Veritas. "Cheers, Fred. And yes, I portkeyed through Hogwarts' wards. As to how, I'm the Heir to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw lines."
"Wicked..." They breathed together, before Fred continued. "Can anyone with Founders' Blood pass through? 'Cause about fifteen percent of the older Wizarding families are connected to Hufflepuff."
"No, only direct Heirs." Harry corrected. "As to who Hufflepuff's direct heir is, I don't think there is one anymore. The main lines died out. As to 'anyone', Hogwarts is quite... protective. She'll only let people pass through who don't mean harm to the students or school. At the moment, that's pretty much me." And that's why Voldemort never just portkeyed in and killed everyone. Cheers, Arx.
You're more than welcome.
Bugger... forgot you can listen in. Harry thought for a moment. If Tom tried to come in here and kill people, would you fight him off?
My powers are limited, heir. I could seal doors and corridors, even activate some of the defences, but I was never designed to fight alone. I am the tool, not the wielder.
Good to know. I'll keep that in mind.
"Huh..." George leaned over the hole in the floor. "So, what are you tinkering with? We're quite good with tinkering."
Harry glanced down at the mess he'd created in the floor. "I'm trying to figure out how to hook up a couple of spells to a computer console, so that they can gain power from the engine without damaging the electronics."
"What spells?" Hermione asked excitedly. Padma caught Susan's eyes and grinned.
"A Revealo and a Point Me spell. I'm trying to create a sensor array." Also, if I can figure it out, I'd like to add a ward-detection and analysis charm. But, I'll be damned if I can figure this one out."
"That sounds... complex." Hermione offered after a moment.
Harry grinned. "So is the Marauder's map. Think about it, though. A piece of parchment that has the ability to track every single personinside an ancient, massive, mystical castle. That's a hellishly complex piece of magic, and four fifth years made it."
"Oh?" George asked, leaning a little closer. "You're the Son of Prongs, you've told us that, but you never said who the others were."
"I know." Harry replied, winking at the twin. "Maybe one day, George... if you're good."
"Meanie." George pouted.
"But, if I could find a way to replicate that, add those charms into the computer, think of what I'd have! The GPS can be used to scan everywhere on the planet. Combine that with the recognition charms on the Marauder's Map, and you can find anyone... anywhere! A kid goes missing, just tap into the sensor array, and you can find them."
"It sounds good." Padma said supportively. "Do you know how to do it?"
"Not a bloody clue." Harry replied casually. "But then again, part of growing up is learning how to make things work. I'll probably figure it out one day."
Hermione pondered for a moment. "What about adding in Ordinance Survey maps? That way, you've not only got tracking, but 3D imaging as well."
Harry chuckled. "One step at a time. First of all, I need to decode the map without damaging it, then replicating those spells into the box." He glanced down piteously, as though if he stared at it long enough, it'd just create itself. "Ah, well..." He grabbed the side of the flooring, hauling himself up.
All four females present saw the muscles on Harry's arms flex as he pulled himself up. He wasn't Arnie, that was true, but he was wiry and strong, especially for his age and previous history. Hermione absently noted that when she was older, she'd like to explore those muscles a little more closely... She came back to herself as she heard Harry speak.
"...get something to eat before we go to Nick's party. I doubt we'll want to eat anything that's there."
"We'll go down to the kitchens, then."
After sending Fred and George down to the kitchens to grab food and drink for all nine of them (no point in sending Hermione off on her S.P.E.W. quest quite so early), they slumped into one of the new rooms in the box.
Halfway through her sandwich, Hermione asked a question that had been bugging her for hours. "Anyone else got a bad feeling about today?"
Everyone else raised their hands. Of course, Harry's wasn't just a feeling, but actual knowledge and experience. He was aware, though, that of all his Hogwarts years, this one had the potential for things to go very badly. A mis-timed glance at the Basilisk's eyes would mean that the victim would be killed instead of petrified. He knew that he had to keep away from the Basilisk, or the victims in order to save their lives.
I hate this... why can't I just kill the bloody thing now? Bloody causality. I hate Quantum theory. He sat and stewed until Neville cleared his throat, telling him it was time to head down to Nick's party. Let's be careful, but let's get it done.
The group ambled downstairs, heading for the dungeon where Nick was holding his party. As they walked in, they saw the Hogwarts' ghosts ambling round, all of them looking politely bored. Then again, considering that they spent all their time together during the year, a social gathering celebrating someone's death would probably get boring over the centuries.
The living mingled with the dead, not really enjoying meaningful conversation, until the sound of a herd of horses filled the air. The Headless Hunt galloped into the room, leering at the humans, until they came across Nick.
"Ah, Nicholas!" The lead rider said jovially. "How's it going? Still hanging in there?"
Nicholas calmly removed his head, tucking it neatly under his arm. "No."
"Ah..." The horsemen looked utterly defeated. "Well... about time."
"Play nice." Harry said in an ice-cold tone.
The horseman glared at Harry. "Do you know who I am?"
"I would hazard a guess that you're Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, the leader of the Headless Hunt." Harry answered smoothly. "And, if I'm honest, I think you're a bit of a prick."
Sir Patrick laughed. "You have gumption, boy. Let me guess... you're here to tell me how Nick's so very scary!"
Harry shook his head. "No... I'm here because Nick asked me to be here. Unlike some I could mention, Sir Nicholas is a man of grace and breeding. Poise and elegance. A true gentleman..." He looked Sir Patrick up and down. "What's your excuse?"
The ghost huffed for a moment, realising that a 'live 'un' had got the better of him, before turning his horse round. The Headless hunt turned as one and rode over to the buffet, passing through it in an attempt to taste the food while shooting Harry dirty looks.
"Pillocks..." Harry muttered, turning back to his friends. "I don't know about you... but this party's kinda lost it's appeal." He turned to Luna. "We been here long enough?" She nodded slowly.
Fred and George smiled. "I think we'll stick about for a bit, Harry. All sorts of pranking opportunities with the dead."
"Okay." Harry turned to the rest, who were only too eager to leave the cold and damp dungeon. The smell of the rotting food was getting to everyone. "Let's get out of here..."
The group left the dungeon at a brisk walk, heading down one of the deserted corridors on the first floor. Hermione cleared her throat nervously. "Remember that bad feeling I said I had?" Susan and Padma nodded jerkily. "Well... it's back, and bigger than before." The dim lighting in the corridor only exacerbated the feelings of uneasiness.
Harry nodded slowly. "I'm right there with you, My Only. I think heading back to the common room would be a really good idea right about now."
Padma squealed loudly, scaring the crap out of everyone else. "Can you hear that?" She groaned.
As one, they all stopped, listening for any sound that might help them figure out the sense of foreboding. §Let me kill... let me tear... I smell food... big food... I'm so hungry... let me eat you...§
"There!" Susan whispered. "Can you hear it? Some kind of... noise." She finished pathetically. "I... I can't tell what it is."
I can. It's Blink, enjoying her freedom after five decades of boredom. I only hope it's just a petrified Mrs. Norris. "This would be a good time to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of here." Harry replied firmly, striding forward into the gloom. "Let's not hang around."
As they passed the dark corner, they could see the lights were on in the main corridor, revealing several things; the floor was flooded, there was writing on the wall, and something was hanging from one of the wall sconces. He approached cautiously, just in case the Basilisk was still loitering about.
Focussing his magic, he let out a massive pulse, acting as magical radar, bouncing off anything with a magical core. He quickly processed the results. Okay... fourteen signatures in the immediate vicinity, that's right... one slightly magical cat, six other people and seven wands. Slight trace to the left... that's probably Myrtle loitering about her pisspot... Ah, there it is. The Chamber's closing. Damn, that was too close. Realisation struck him with the force of a Bludger. Shit, Blink was still here! Holy fuck, she could've killed us all!
Blaise cleared his throat. "We really should leave here, Harry."
Harry was about to nod, when he felt the change in the ambient magical flow of the castle. This usually happened when classes were let out, or feasts were finishing. It meant hundreds of magical cores were moving. Too late, now. "It's a little late for that, Blaise." With a sigh, he leaned against the wall, managing to avoid smearing the bloody writing. "This could be a problem."
"What's that?" Susan asked, pointing at the straggly mass hanging from the wall sconce.
Chuckling softly, before realising that was a bit morbid, Harry answered. "I do believe that is Mrs. Norris." He replied casually. "And by the way, that writing? It's written in blood. Do try not to get it on your clothes. It's not human, though. Doesn't smell metallic enough."
"Y-You can tell human blood by smell?" Neville asked shakily.
"Bled enough times." Harry said, not looking up. "Dumbledore's coming. Make sure you don't touch anything."
The sounds of dozens of well-fed children stampeding through the corridors assaulted their ears, as the feast finally let out, the students heading back to their corridors.
"What is going on here?" An angry voice shouted. Harry didn't need to look up to know Filch had just appeared on the scene. "What mess have you made now?"
There, on the wall, scrawled in chicken's blood was the message 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir; beware!'
"I'll see you all expelled for befouling the castle!" Filch sneered, before he stepped round Harry, seeing his beloved cat hanging from the sconce. His face contorted into a mask of rage, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as the scion of Bad Faith appeared in the hallway. With long-practiced Dark Arts experience, he took in the scene in front of him.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
Harry's pinkie twitched, sending a couple of non-verbal spells at Malfoy. Harry was certain that he'd find that anal-itching hex and burning urine hex quite sufficient to keep him occupied, before he straightened up. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."
The old man pushed his way through the gaping students, quickly taking stock of the situation. "All students return to their common rooms. Mr. Potter, you and your friends remain behind, please." No-one moved. "Now." Dumbledore's voice didn't get any louder, but that single word snapped every student to attention as they near-ran back to their dormitories.
"You killed my cat!" Filch snapped at Harry. "I'll kill you!"
"Touch me and you'll lose your arm." Harry replied nonchalantly. "If you use the brains God gave a concussed duck, you'd be able to see that your cat is not dead."
"Indeed." Dumbledore, who'd been inspecting the cat intently, looked up in surprise. "And your conclusion. Mr. Potter?"
"She's still alive." He grimaced. "Sadly." He added the last word in a whisper only Hermione heard. "It appears, though, that her life processes have been... well, put on hold, I would guess. She appears to be frozen, but she's not cold. It's like she's in stasis. Very strange."
Lockhart minced up, his face still scratched from Hedwig's demonstration several weeks earlier, immediately deciding to 'help'. "My office is nearest, Headmaster; just up the stairs. Please, feel free to-" He cut off as Dumbledore had already picked up Mrs. Norris and was striding towards Lockhart's office, Filch following him, fat tears streaking down his face as he looked at his beloved cat, hanging lifelessly in the old man's arms.
I wonder if those rumours about him dressing her up in a tutu and...Harry trailed off as he felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. Never mind.
They arrived at Lockhart's office, where the portraits were preening themselves; Harry saw several with hair in rollers, and one of them looked suspiciously like he was wearing a mudpack on his face. Shaking his head, he watched Dumbledore place the cat on the desk, examining it carefully, while McGonagall was waving her wand, casting several diagnostic charms over the prone body.
"It was definitely a curse that killed her, probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her..." Lockhart trailed off as Filch let out a crying whimper at the word 'torture' being used to describe his beloved cat. In the original timeline, Harry's main worry at this point was that he would be blamed, and expelled. Now, he was worried about the fact that he hadn't even spotted Blink when she was still out in the corridors. A basilisk must have an immense magical presence. Why didn't I spot her?
"...remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, which I'm sure you've all bought, of course. I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets which cleared the matter up at once, and-" He let out a yelp, and then turned around, scowling at Snape.
Harry, having heard enough from Lockfart to last both his lifetimes, had realigned the mirror that was on the wall, and shot a wandless stinging hex at it, which ricocheted and hit Lockhart in the bum. Thinking that Snape had hexed him, he spun around, thankfully distracting him from carrying on the shite that was spilling from his mouth like a sewer.
"She's not dead, Argus. She has been petrified." said Dumbledore.
"Ah, I thought so!" Lockhart spoke up, and Harry shot another stinging hex off the mirror, hitting the pompous windbag in the crotch. The blonde collapsed, clutching his groin and weeping piteously.
"Severus!" Dumbledore looked annoyed at his Potions professor. "Please, refrain yourself."
Snape looked livid, and started to protest. "I haven't done anything! It was probably Potter, the attention seeking-"
Harry strode forward. "Silence, idiot. Don't you know that it's better to be silent and considered a fool than to open your mouth and prove it?" He handed his wand over to Dumbledore without asking, the old man immediately knowing what he wanted. A quick casting of Priori Incantatum revealed that Harry's most recent spells were from Transfiguration classwork; nothing dark, and nothing that could be remotely classed as an offensive or combat magic.
"Harry has nothing to do with Professor Lockhart's sudden... incapacitation, and certainly nothing to do with the Petrification of Mrs. Norris."
"I am curious as to what Potter and his cronies were doing down that corridor, and why they weren't at the feast." Snape slimed. "It's certainly out of their way."
"We were at Sir Nicholas' Deathday party. We were on our way back to Ravenclaw tower for the evening when we discovered Mrs Norris."
"Without any supper?" Snape's voice was oilier than triple-thick mayonnaise. "I rather doubt the ghosts served any food fit for the living."
"We ate in our dormitory before we attended the party, thank you. We asked Sir Nicholas about food last week, and knew beforehand that we should eat before we arrived." Ha, deal with it, slimy.
Snape just sneered at his new nemesis. "Headmaster, it is obvious to me that Potter here has something to do with this situation, and is simply being dishonest." His sneer escalated as he stared at Harry through hooded eyes. "Perhaps if he had some of his ill-gotten privileges removed until he decided to come clean, it might prompt him to be more honest. Since he has already been implicated in sabotaging Slytherin equipment, I suggest removing him from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team until he is ready to tell us the truth."
"My wand has been checked, showing I had nothing to do with any of this. I've answered all of your questions with satisfactory answers that can be checked with a third party to confirm their veracity. It's been proven, without a shadow of a doubt, that I had nothing to do with that unfortunate," he stopped for a moment to snigger, which infuriated the Potions Master no end, "incident with the brooms, and you publicly apologised to me for that the next day."
"In the instance, I must agree, Severus; there is no evidence in this matter that Mr. Potter was doing anything other than merely walking down the corridor and discovered the scene. You will not discuss this matter with anyone, and you will not do anything to Mr. Potter. Do you understand?" Although Dumbledore liked to project the image of a kindly grandfather, in this instance, there was a thread of iron in his voice, and Snape knew, immediately, that the only answer here was the one Dumbledore wanted to hear.
"Of course, Headmaster."
"Argus, Professor Sprout has a crop of mandrakes currently growing. As soon as they have matured, she will harvest them, and I will have a potion made that shall restore Mrs. Norris."
"I'll make it." Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-"
"Excuse me," said Snape icily, "but I believe I am the Potions Master at this school."
True, you are a Potions Master, and a very good one, but you're an absolutely wank teacher. "May we be excused, Professor? We'd like to return to our dormitories now." Harry asked, his face and tone the very personification of innocence.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. You and your friends are dismissed."
The students quickly left, splitting up to their various Common rooms, but not before Susan had hugged the stuffing out of Harry, and both Neville and Blaise had slapped him on the back, leaving him quite touched.
Hermione was sat in the Common room, Padma and Luna sat near her while Harry was pacing in front of the fireplace. She smiled brightly. "In my defence, it wasn't a troll."
Harry stopped his pacing, looked at her for a moment, and then smiled, before breaking out in to laughter, his serious mood broken. "No, no it wasn't. Well, let's get some sleep. It's Sock Quidditch tomorrow. Got some people to beat."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Children of all ages! The Underground Quidditch League is proud to present the first match of the season. Last season's shield holders, Beware of the Badgers, against the first team in Sock Quidditch; Norfolk Enchants. I'm Lee Jordan, and with me are the Weasley twins. This evening's entertainment is brought to you by the Quibbler, the best source of information that isn't the Daily Prophet." Lee put down the parchment he was reading from, and smiled at the crowd. "Here come the mighty Norfolk Enchants. They've got a change in line-up this season, replacing seventh-year Nymphadora Tonks with first-year Luna Lovegood as a Beater. The other Beater is Hermione Granger, second-year Ravenclaw with a wicked eye and deadly aim."
"That's right, Lee, we've watched her in training, and she's lethal. We should keep an eye on this girl, we can expect great things from her in the future." Fred smiled.
"That, and she threatened to brain us with her Beater's tube if we said anything bad about her." George added.
"The Keeper for the Enchants is Blaise Zabini, second-year Slytherin. This guy is cool, calm and collected, a master of stoicism. Will the Slytherin Spock be able to keep a clean sheet?" Lee put down the parchment again. "Anybody who knows what a 'Spock' is, please, let us know."
"The Chasers for the Enchants are a triple threat attack force, spanning three houses; Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor, Susan Bones of Hufflepuff and Padma Patil of Ravenclaw. Last season, these three developed tactics that were quickly adopted by other teams; will these three be able to wow us again?"
"Absolutely, Lee, the captain has been them hard to get them in to league-winning shape, and you can tell; they look hungry out there."
"The Captain of the Enchants is the ever-cheerful, unless you catch him first thing in the morning, Harry Potter of Ravenclaw. The creator of the UQL has been studying the other teams, and he's shown some pretty good tactical acumen, nearly as good as our own Oliver Wood."
"Indeed, Lee, who knows what would've happened if Oliver Wood and Harry Potter were on the same team?"
"We would introduce Diggory's Beware of the Badgers, but Professor Flitwick is calling for the two captains to come forward and shake hands. The hands are shaken. Diggory's pulled his hand back, scrubbing it on his pants. Don't worry, Diggory, he probably won't sneak in your dorm later on."
"Harry Potter has immediately spun backwards, eyes searching for the very elusive snitch. Enchants' Chasers are striding forward, rapid passing making it pretty pointless for me to shout out names, because by the time I've said their name, somebody else has it. Patil shoots! 1-0 to the Enchants."
"It seems that Enchants' Chasers have been training hard, George, leaving them in top shape."
"I couldn't agree more, George, they're like a well-oiled machine."
"Aren't you George?"
"Yeah, probably."
Lee Jordan looked at the twins; even though he was in his fourth year of schooling with them, they still confused him. "Well, anyway, during that fascinating analysis by Hogwarts' premiere pranksters, Longbottom has put in another goal, while Zabini has saved a shot, leaving the Enchants 2-0 up. Potter is streaking across the pitch in a hurry. Looks like a uniform malfunction. Hey, Harry, get a tan, you'll end up blinding someone!"
"Time out for the Enchants while their Captain tries to cover his arse with a new pair of shorts."
"Thank you, Professor Flitwick. For any statistic fans out there, this is the seventh match that our Charms Professor has refereed, and he's already had to go to Madam Pomfrey twice for calming draughts. And the game restarts. Diggory's spotted something, appears to be going after the snitch. Meanwhile, Zabini forces another excellent save, with Granger managing to accidentally hit someone in the crowd with a Bludger."
"Not to worry, Lee, it's only Ron. Luckily, the Bludger managed to hit him the head, so there's no damage. I don't think she likes you like that, Ron, so I guess that hand gesture is all you'll be doing tonight."
"Bones has managed to put the Quaffle in the goal, and it's 3-0 to the Enchants. They're still looking strong out there, while the Badgers appear to be tiring already."
"You see, Lee, this is where conditioning pays off. If you've seen the muscles in Granger's legs, and judging by some of the shouts coming from Ron, he has, and... ooh, that looks like it had to hurt. Yet again, it appears that Hermione's had an equipment malfunction, as once again, a Bludger has managed to hit Ron in the face."
"Absolutely, George, that looked uncomfortable. Anyway, while Ron tries to put his nose back in to shape and stop the bleeding, the game continues, with both teams put... Seriously, Ron, just pinch it, you don't need to flick blood at laughing first-years. The game's getting good, and... was that the snitch?"
"Yes, Potter's chasing after it, he's firing at it quickly. Look at that snitch go."
"Diggory's spotted the snitch but he's badly out of position. He's heading towards it, blocked by Bones, who just happened to have wandered in to his path. Oh, get up, Diggory. Potter's still chasing, and... Yes! Potter shoots the snitch, and wins the game 18-0."
"Well, that was an entertaining game. We saw excellent play, good sportsmanship, and Ron Weasley got hit in the face twice. Thanks, Hermione. I'm Lee Jordan, saying goodnight!"