CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE –
Modifying Misguided Morality
As Harry drifted off to sleep, a conference was started between of a group of people who didn't exist on the bridge of a vessel that wasn't there.
Why is it every time I chew something over in my mind, this lot turn up? Harry pondered, as he found himself on the bridge of his mindscape.
"Because it makes things easier." Tactical replied. "What better way to thrash out an argument than to actually thrash it out? If you want, we can get the Counsellor in here to be beaten up."
Harry grinned. "As much fun as that would be, I think we'll be needing him."
As if on cue, the Counsellor walked on the bridge, his hot-pink jumpsuit blinding. He stopped when he saw Harry and Tactical staring at him. "I'm not gonna get beaten again, am I?"
"Depends on how fast you can run. It's looking like a good bet, though." Tactical replied, cracking his knuckles. "But not now. It seems our leader here," he pointed to Harry, "wants to have a chat about something."
"Ah... should I call for everyone?" The Counsellor asked.
"That won't be necessary." Harry replied. "But lately... I've been pondering things."
"We know." Tactical and the Counsellor replied in unison. "We're part of you, remember?"
I'm such a smart-arse sometimes... Harry thought to himself. "Okay... so, tell me."
"Just recently, you've been coming to the conclusion that you've been acting like Dumbledore." The Counsellor said, brusquely. "You've allowed things to happen that you could have easily prevented, all in the name of 'the Greater Good', something that annoys the living piss out of you when it happens to us."
"True." Harry admitted.
"Right now, you're thinking about radically changing things, so that people aren't affected. Stopping Ginny from using the diary would be a very good deed, even though it'll rob us of using the Basilisk parts."
"It did have an impact on her. Not using the diary, which we all know she doesn't remember, but the whole 'saving her from an evil basilisk' thing." Harry advised. "It was one of the reasons that she became that obsessed fan-girl. I have the power to stop it. But-"
"You're worried about changing the time-line." Tactical interrupted. "We understand, but things have changed from the first run through already. When we first got here, we said that we'd keep the time-line intact. Since then, we've buggered it up royally, haven't we?"
"Only little changes..." Harry tried to defend.
"'Little changes'? 'Little'? Good gods, we changed everything!" The Counsellor proclaimed shrilly. "It only takes a single pebble to start an avalanche! Where the hell do I start? We left the Dursleys, which changed the Dobby situation, we moved into Diagon Alley, we got emancipated, we met Hermione far earlier, we corrupted her into a choco-fiend on the Express, we ignored Ron Weasley, we defeated the Troll differently... need I continue?"
Tactical smoothly carried on the diatribe. "What about the longer-lasting differences we've made? Susan, Padma and Blaise were never friends in the original time-line. Acquaintances, yes, but never friends. I'm not even going to begin to touch on the ship. And Percy Weasley? That compulsion will change his entire future!"
"And all for the 'Greater Good'." Harry concluded sadly. "Sweet Jesus, I'm as bad as Dumbledore..."
"Hang on, Angst-man." The Counsellor said. "You've not sacrificed anyone, or royally screwed people over. You've interfered. The only manipulation you've made is Percy, really. You could explain it to him, or simply remove the compulsion. It's not been on him long enough to become long-term."
Harry nodded. "I had such good intentions... but, then again, the 'Road to hell...'"
"You also need to send a letter to Padfoot." Tactical advised. "Explain that you know he's innocent, but you don't have enough physical evidence to prove his innocence. You know that Fudge will block any attempts to get a trial. He may have to go on the run."
"I... I could explain, using general terms." Harry offered. "You know, explain that I have knowledge about the future since I have access to a seer. That's not a lie."
The Counsellor smiled, and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do the right thing, Harry. That's all we can do." The hand suddenly shot away as the Counsellor left the bridge at a dead run, Tactical chasing after him with what looked suspiciously like a pool cue...
Harry woke up, refreshed after an hour and a half's sleep, a new spring in his step. Okay... time to get things done right. First up, a letter to Padfoot.
Dear Padfoot
First of all, I must apologise to you, for my conduct over the last year. The reason I'm apologising will become clear as you read through this missive.
I'm really not sure how to go about writing this. There are so many things I need to tell you... but they're the kind of things you can't really write in a letter. Sometimes, you have to say it in person.
First of all, allow me to reiterate something I said to you a year ago: I know that you are not guilty of the crimes that you have been imprisoned for. You were not the Potters' Secret-Keeper, Peter Pettigrew was. You did not blow up that street back in '81, again, that was Pettigrew. I know this, and you know this.
However, I cannot prove that you are innocent at the present time, and therein lies my problem. Now, you and I both know that by using your Animagus form, you can protect yourself from the Dementors, since they work by sensing emotions, and Padfoot's emotions are more primal that Sirius'. Since you've been poorly fed over the last decade, Padfoot's very thin. You could escape by squeezing through the bars of your cell, or wait until the Dementors deliver your food, and then swim back to the mainland.
While this would be a very useful thing to do, you will be hunted, sparking the biggest international manhunt in the history of the Magical world.
The information that I can share with you at the present time is limited, but I can tell you this: Lord Voldemort will return, within the next few years. His Death Eaters will return to him, and the Blood War will start. When that time comes, you will be needed, Padfoot. Not to fight, but to act as a moral compass for Harry and Moony. The essence of the Marauder still exists. The spirit's gone, the comic relief's a traitor, but the brain still lives in Moony, while the Marauders' Heart still beats in your chest. Young Harry has the potential to join your ranks.
As to how I know this? One of my companions is a Seer, and I'm no slouch myself. You'll be needed to help keep Harry's spirits up. After all, who can resist a Marauder (OK, apart from Lily in 4th year, but James had snuck a dungbomb in your drawers, and charmed it so that you couldn't smell it. Evil? Yes. Brilliant? Absolutely!)?
There is a sequence of events that I've been following. We know that you'll escape at the right time, and that's important. The right time won't be for several months, though.
And this brings me to my dilemma: I want you out of prison... but it'll affect our plans, and could be very costly. This, however, should not be a factor in your decision. We both know that you could walk out of the door at this very minute, and it has to be your choice.
If you escape from Azkaban, it'll start the manhunt, which could drive the servants of Voldemort into action before we are ready. Unlike Dumbledore, though, I'm not prepared to say "it's for the Greater Good, Sirius, that you stay there." It has to be your choice.
If you agree to stay in Azkaban (and I know it's a thoroughly unpleasant place; I've been there myself, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone... except Death Eaters and Voldemort) I will continue to send you food and clothing. If you decide to break out and go on the run... I will continue to send you food and clothing.
If you're willing to stay, (and I know that I seem to be pushing that, I'm not, honestly. It's YOUR CHOICE) then when Minister Fudge does his next prison inspection (late June or early July, I think) he will stop by your door. Ask him if you can have his copy of the Daily Prophet. Tell him you miss doing the crossword. When he gives it to you, there'll be an EXTREMELY interesting picture on the front page. When you see that picture, Sirius, it's time to go. Whatever you do, however, don't react to the picture in front of Fudge. He'll make things... difficult for us all.
If you do decide to leave Azkaban, make certain that you aren't seen. Fudge will send the entire Dementor force after you.
I do, however, have one order for you, though I don't think you'll mind it: TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.
Stripeclaw
Harry read the finished note, and nodded to himself. What he'd written warned Sirius about the article, told him about the possibility of escape, but also told him the best time to escape. However, he'd put in a good warning about escaping too soon. I hope it's enough, Sirius.
He got out of bed, showered and dressed, and headed for the kitchens. Fortunately, it was still dark out, and the human residents of the castle, as well as the portraits, were still sleeping soundly. The basket of food, with a strapped on note, quickly vanished.
Padfoot woke up, growling lightly, as something materialised in his cell. His canine nose quickly detected the wonderful scent of chicken, prompting him to turn back into his human counterpart. He grabbed the note while he munched away on a chicken leg.
Hmm... I admit, I've thought about just sneaking out by using Padfoot... but there's something here that's almost... it's... he's telling me to wait until I see Fudge, and then I'll know to escape.Throwing the now-meatless bone out of the window, he quickly grabbed another. Thanks to the Occlumency and Padfoot, I can certainly withstand a bit more time here. The Dementors don't really affect me anymore, Padfoot even less. As much as I want my freedom, I get the feeling that it could be far more expensive than I know. He threw the next bone out of the window, grabbing a huge pork pie from the basket. I really wish I could speak to this guy. I'd love to know what Harry's up to... poor pup. He came to a decision. I'll stay. When I next see Fudge, I'll wait for my sign. I'm not so far gone that waiting to murder Pettigrew can't be put on hold for a few months.
Hundreds of miles away, an old man in a child's body sighed in relief, without knowing why.
After sitting in the common room for an hour reading yet another of his beloved Bond books, Harry put it back into his trunk, which he then secured inside his Portkey box, before heading down to the Great Hall. He was a man on a mission...
Once in the Great Hall, he immediately sought out Professors Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick. The three were conspiring together, sitting closely, presumably about Snape.
"Good morning, Professors. Do you have a moment?" He asked politely.
Looking up, McGonagall noted that the young man in front of her was the very personification of determination. "Is this a 'Harry' moment, or a 'Mr. Potter' moment?" McGonagall asked.
"Er... it's a bit of both, Professor." Harry replied. Sprout, on the other hand, looked scandalised at the familiarity.
"Well, then, Harry," Flitwick said, leaning forward, "what can we do for you today?"
"I've been having a bit of a think about the petrified student situation, Professors. It took me a bit of time, but I've found a way to help them much sooner. I'd like your permission to leave the school, and I need an escort on my mission, Professors." Harry said. "There's a small farm in Tibet that produce ingredients, and they have what we need. While I'm there, I'd appreciate Professor Sprout's assistance."
"A potion ingredient?" Sprout asked, confused. "What sort of ingredient?"
"Fully grown mandrake, ma'am." Harry replied. "They always have them available. I plan to go and collect some for Colin and Mrs. Norris. Maybe take Neville, if he's available."
"And why do you feel the need to collect some mandrake, Harry?" Flitwick asked. "Pomona's will be ready in the next four to six months. We can have our petrified student back then."
"That's certainly true, sir." Harry replied. "But, poor Colin will have missed out on six months of schooling. His first year, too. And Mr. Filch will have been without his pet for that length of time. I... I need to do this, Professor. I knew something bad was happening when Colin was petrified. I-I could have stopped it."
Sprout leaned closer, her Hufflepuff sense of justice coming to the fore. "Mr. Potter, are you saying that you had advance knowledge about these attacks?" Sprout demanded. "If so, you should have come to a member of staff immediately!"
Dumbledore cleared his throat from behind the three professors. "Good morning, Professors. Good morning, Harry." He slid into his chair. "Pomona, I have already spoken to Harry about this. We have shared out information about these attacks, and any possible actions. Our conclusions are the same." He reached for the tureen of kippers. "What is it you're planning, Mr. Potter?"
"I found a Mandrake farm in Tibet, sir. I've got the co-ordinates. I get go there and grab some mandrake, and brew up the restorative draught on the way back. Colin and Mrs. Norris can be unpetrified by lunchtime."
The old man nodded. "A fine plan. What lessons do you have this morning?"
"Potions, sir, followed by History of Magic."
"Ah!" Dumbledore chuckled. "The irony of using your potions lesson to create a mandrake draught. I think you'll earn an 'outstanding' this morning, Harry."
"Thank you, sir." Harry replied. "So, can we go?"
McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, who inclined his head slightly.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. How exactly do you propose we get to Tibet to obtain this ingredient?"
Harry just smiled.
As he led the three teachers to the seventh floor to collect Neville, Harry pondered to himself. I should have stopped this, not let it get to this stage. I only hope Luna can keep up with any changes to the timeline.
The small group spotted Percy coming out of the portrait hole, clad in his robes and with his prefect's badge shining on his chest. Realising that this was an opportune moment, Harry wiggled his finger, removing the compulsion charm from Percy. The young man blinked for a moment, before greeting the professors.
McGonagall authorised the group to enter the Gryffindor common room, leading them to the couches in front of the fire. Harry sat down on his favourite chair. Ah, I've missed this chair. I wonder if I could nick it and stick it in the Ravenclaw common room?
While Harry was settling into the chair, McGonagall sent Percy up to the second year dormitory, to wake up Neville. A few moments later, a barely-dressed Neville appeared at the bottom of the stairs, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep.
"Morning, Neville!" Harry said cheerfully.
"You're far too 'wake for this time of day." Neville grumbled. "What d'you want?"
"Get dressed, you lazy git." Harry replied nonchalantly. "Going collecting some mandrake from Tibet, and need your green thumb."
"Tomorrow." Neville slurred, before turning and heading back up the stairs.
"Come on, Neville!" Harry said chirpily. "Big day! Gonna wake up Creevey and the demon cat. Need your help."
"Tomorrow."
"Mr. Longbottom!" McGonagall snapped, stepping forward. "Get dressed, and be back down in fifteen minutes!"
He stiffened slightly at the less that friendly tone in his Head of House's voice. "'Kay, Ma'am." Neville slumped away.
While they were waiting, Harry called across to Percy, who was sat on the couch, looking into the fire. "Hey, Percy?"
"Yes, Harry?" The prefect, who was polishing his badge yet again, looked over at the younger boy.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"If a situation arose where you had to choose between your job and your family, what would you pick?"
Percy looked taken aback for a moment. "What on earth made you ask that?"
Harry shrugged. "Just curious, I suppose. I'm actually kinda jealous of you. You've got all those siblings, and loving folks... sometimes, I just wonder what that'd be like."
Nodding slowly, Percy pondered. "Well... I suppose my family... I mean... they've supported me for years, helped me become what I am now." He stared at Harry. "I admit, I've never really thought about it that way before. Living in a large family, especially myfamily, it's always been a bit of a mission. Fred and George pranking everyone, hearing Ron complain about things, listening to Ginny..." He trailed off as he looked at Harry, "I presume Fred and George have told you about Ginny?"
"What, the whole 'future wife' bit? Yeah." Harry grimaced. "To be honest, Perce, from what I know of her, I doubt that'll happen."
Percy shrugged. "Your choice." He sobered up a little. "I've never thought about it from the 'orphan' point of view. As much as my family irritates me, and living with Fred and George is irritating, they do support me." He placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "You've given me a lot to think about, young Harry. Thank you."
Harry shrugged again. "Just something to ponder, Perce."
Neville came staggering back into the common room, wearing a pair of mud-streaked pants, a dirty shirt and a pair of dragon hide boots. "Right, I'm dressed for battling evil mandrakes. Where are we going?"
Harry nodded at Percy before standing up. "Going to Tibet, Nev. They have mandrakes available. Fully grown ones."
"And why..." he trailed off as his face split in half from an immense yawn, "can't we wait until Professor Sprout's are done?"
"Because that won't be for another four months, at the earliest." Harry replied, leading Neville to the portrait hole, where the Professors were waiting impatiently. "Besides, we can go there, get the ugly little bugger, make the draught and be back inside three or so hours."
"Joy." Neville yawned again. "How we getting there? Your box?"
"Yep."
Once in the Ravenclaw common room, Harry saw Padma and Luna waiting at the bottom of the stairs, with Hermione just coming down the stairs. "Good morning, beauteous ladies!" Harry proclaimed loudly, startling them.
"Morning, Harry." Hermione came over, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "What's going on?"
Harry gestured to the Professors behind him. "I've had an idea about curing Colin and the demon cat, so we're just nipping out for some potions supplies. Won't be more than a few hours."
"Oh." She looked at the impatient professors. "Do you need any help?"
Harry looked torn for a moment. "As much as I enjoy taking trips with you, my sweet Hermione, best not this morning. We shouldn't be too long."
Leading the small group up the stairs into his dorm room, Harry was about to enter the Box when Sprout stopped him. "Mr. Potter... I realise that both you and Miss Granger were inside this... object when it appeared in the Great Hall. However, I am a little... a little bigger than Miss Granger, and I'm not certain that we could all fit in there."
Harry chuckled and placed his hand against the door, bypassing the defences. The door opened with a creak, revealing the cavernous interior. "I don't think there's a problem, Professor."
Once the group had made their way inside, Harry dashed to the console and slid a lever up, closing the door with a clang. He moved round to the monitor, and began tapping away at the keyboard. "Okay... setting co-ordinates 31o37" North, 87o54" East." Harry tapped a few more buttons. "And, initiating gyroscope..." He pulled down a small lever, prompting a wheezing/groaning sound to fill the cavernous interior. "Dematerialising..." The was a minute tremble in the floor panelling, signalling the ship was in flight.
"Er... Mr. Potter?" Sprout spoke up. "Could you explain to me what's going on?"
Harry smiled at the friendly Herbologist. "Basically, Madam Sprout, this 'object' as you called it, is my ship. We're going to Tibet to recover a fully grown mandrake. Now, I'm not saying that your mandrakes are inferior, quite the opposite. However, it will take months for them to be ready. So, we're going getting a pre-prepared one."
"Taking a Portkey would get us there, but we'd all be feeling sick as dogs afterwards. This ship means we can enjoy the trip in comfort. Perhaps even partake of a nice beverage or three."
"Ah... very well." Sprout retreated to one of the chairs near the console. Deciding to take pity on the professors, since he'd interrupted their breakfast, Harry disappeared through the door, quickly putting the kettle on while throwing some teabags into the teapot. Making the brew, Harry quickly poured five cups, returning to the console room.
Once everyone had been served, Harry busied himself with one of the banks of controls.
Neville sidled up. "What ya doing?"
Harry smiled to himself. "I'm altering the runes that control the internal configuration to build a small potions laboratory. And a sick bay. It's fairly easy." He stopped his tapping to look up at Neville. "You know, Neville, we've haven't really spoken much. I don't know a great deal about you. I mean, I know that you're Frank and Alice's son, you live with your Gran and you're frighteningly good at Herbology, but I don't know a lot else. You know quite a bit about me, 'cause my life's an open book."
Neville looked a bit nervous, but answered. "Well... what would you like to know?"
Harry resumed his tapping. "According to the rumour mill when you first started, and this is mainly Malfoy spouting off, you're considered a near-squib. Now, I know better than that, but I was just wondering why that sort of thing would be bandied about the school."
Neville's nervousness increased. "Well... er... I'm not very good at performing magic." He replied. "You've seen me in potions, and I'm pretty pants at transfiguration. Not too bad in charms, though."
Harry stopped tapping. "What utter bollocks, Nev. You're a very powerful wizard, I can see it. You just lack confidence. Not surprising, really."
"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall stepped forward. "Why do you say 'not surprising'?"
Harry looked up, realising that the three teachers had been listening in. "Well, ma'am, his grandmother's Augusta Longbottom. From the scuttlebutt I've heard, she's old-school strict. Powerful, but quite steeped in tradition. Plus, there's the whole Bellatrix thing."
Instantly turning white, Neville stepped backwards. "W-What?"
"Bellatrix LeStrange?" Harry glanced over at Neville, who looked to be on the verge of a panic attack. "Would you like me to help you with your confidence, Neville? I do know a way, but you won't like it."
Neville was torn; Harry was extremely powerful, and had near-miraculous control over his magic, but the merest mention of the evil Bellatrix LeStrange had thrown him off. "W-What do you mean?"
Harry took a deep breath. What he was about to do was a rather cruel, but extremely effective course of action. "You remember Bellatrix LeStrange, Neville. She's the one who tortured your parents to insanity right in front of you, forcing you to watch."
"Stop it!" Neville hissed.
"Why?" Harry plastered an evil smirk on his face. "You're too weak to stop her, Neville. When she gets out of Azkaban, and she willget out, you'll be no match for her. She'll take everything you care about and destroy it utterly."
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall spat, drawing her wand.
"Stop it, Harry!" Neville snapped angrily. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."
"Aw, is widdle baby Neville gonna fight me?" Harry sing-songed in an eerie copy of Bellatrix. "Just like his widdle parents."
Neville roared, thrusting his hands out. He began to glow with a bright white light as a bright red beam arched from his hands, slamming into Harry and throwing him into the wall of the console room. Hitting heavily, Harry dropped to the floor like a stone.
"Now, that I respect!" Harry replied, shaking his head as he tried to clear the cobwebs. He hauled himself to his feet, staggering back to Neville, smiling gently at him. "Yeah, mate... you're a weak wizard. A near-squib... who just threw me across the room with wandless magic."
Neville looked down at his hands, then back up at the grinning Harry. "I hate you, Harry. That was cruel."
"No, you don't hate me, Neville." Harry replied without missing a beat. "But, you've just realised that you have power. Power to protect. Power to deliver justice." He winked. "Now, since we've got an hour to kill, let's see what else we can do."
McGonagall holstered her wand. "Mr. Potter, you will explain yourself this instant!"
Harry just looked at Neville. "Well, mate?"
The young Gryffindor sighed. "I hate you." He replied in a small voice. "That was a dirty trick, Harry." He turned to McGonagall. "Professor, Harry was just... proving a point."
"What point?" McGonagall demanded.
"Control, Neville." Harry replied. "Willpower. Focus. When I was running my mouth off at you, you wanted nothing more than to stop me. You had a clear goal in mind, and your magic made it happen. Now, imagine being able to harness all that power in class, with a wand, and you'll prove that you're not weak."
Neville looked at Harry, then at McGonagall. "Professor, could I have a matchstick?"
McGonagall blinked, then conjured a matchstick, passing it over to Neville. He drew his wand, and tapped the matchstick once. It instantly shifted into a perfect needle. No wand movements. No incantation.
"Well done, Mr. Longbottom." McGonagall said, taking the needle and looking closely at it. "Perfectly done. I will expect to see this level of focus in my classroom."
"Yes, Professor." Neville replied, then glanced back at Harry. "That was still a dirty trick, Harry."
"Yes. Yes, it was." Harry agreed amiably. "I like dirty tricks; you can't deny they're effective. Combine that focus with your Occlumency, and we'll have you into a warrior wizard in no time." He turned back to the console. "Now... where was I?"
The rest of the trip was extremely routine. Neville got into a pitched fight with the mandrake, which didn't want to leave it's cosy little soil home, until Neville punched it's nose and hauled it up.
Once back in the potions lab in the Box, which was little more than a workbench with a cauldron sitting on top, Neville began stewing the mandrake, slicing it into little pieces.
Harry always had trouble with dealing with mandrakes, since they had little faces and a definite personality. Still, he left that part for Neville. He opened the door to a cupboard, pulling out an old potions textbook.
With Sprout's help, the three began brewing the mandrake restorative draught, completely ignoring the fact that it should have been Snape who was making it.
It took just over an hour, pulling ingredients from wherever Harry had secreted them throughout the box. Once the vile smell filled the air, Neville pronounced the cauldron full of tan goop complete, and poured out two goblets. Harry put the remaining goop under a stasis charm, just in case.
The Box began to rematerialise in the hospital wing, the noise prompting Pomfrey to come bustling out with her wand drawn. She'd not been at the opening feast, and hadn't seen the Box before.
"What the devil..." She began, only to smile when she saw Harry come out of the box, a small tray with two steaming goblets on it.
"Madam Pomfrey! What an utter delight to see you!" Harry said joyfully. "And it's even more delightful that I'm not here at your less than tender mercies."
She smiled warmly at him. "Agreed, Mr. Potter. What have you got there?" She did a double take as she realised what he'd said. "You cheeky little scamp!"
Harry grinned at her, then glanced down at the tray. "Thank you. And this is just a little mandrake juice for Colin and the demon cat. Should have them up and about fairly soon."
"Oh?" Pomfrey looked a little uncertain. "I thought Professor Snape couldn't make it until Pomona's mandrakes were ready."
Harry walked past Pomfrey, placing the tray on Colin's bedside table. Grabbing one of the goblets, he winced as the pungent smell of mandrake filled his nose. "Yeah... kinda ignored him. Neville brewed most of it, really."
"N-Neville?" Poppy stammered. "Mr. Longbottom made a potion?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Neville. When he's not got tall, dark and greasy loitering over his shoulder, he's a surprisingly good brewer."
"Thanks, Harry." Neville appeared in the doorway to the box. "I'm certain that was almost ten percent compliment in there."
"Oh... I'd say fifteen, Nev, in a bad light with a god that takes pity on you." Harry replied, grabbing a small funnel from the tray and forcing it into Colin's mouth. Holding his breath, he began pouring the noxious brew into the funnel, hearing it sink into Colin. As the fluid hit the young boy's skin, it began to undo the Petrification, turning near-stone back into soft flesh.
He turned, handing the small tray to Pomfrey. "I'll let you do Mrs. Norris. Skinny little runt doesn't like me."
Scowling lightly, Pomfrey took the tray. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate your delegating this task to me."
Smiling, and putting a full-power puppy dog look on his face, he nodded. "No problem."
Predictably, Poppy melted at the look. "Fine. It'll take a bit of time for these to work, so you might as well head to lessons. What would you like me to tell Mr. Creevey when he wakes up?"
Harry shrugged. "Nothing. Let him think it was your own prodigious skill that woke him up." He turned back to Neville. "Might as well go and get dressed, Nev. Got History of Magic in twenty minutes."
Neville, Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall trailed out of the Box, before Harry strolled back inside. "I'll take the Box back and meet you outside History, Nev. Professors, thank you for your assistance." As he headed inside, the doors closed behind him, the wheezing/groaning sound filling the air.
The next few days were extremely different, prompting Luna's eyes to glow randomly as she absorbed the changes to the timeline. Fortunately, she hadn't popped up to Harry and given him another migraine... update, another update, but she was turning in to a remarkably effective nightlight.
Harry headed to the library, where he knew a bunch of Hufflepuffs were sitting. He gave a grim smile as he overheard the same conversation as last time. He activated a disillusionment charm on himself, since it was more impressive fading into view than whipping off his cloak, and walked to the foot of the table, sitting down quietly, the movement of the chair imperceptible.
"...told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggleborn. Just actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"
Hannah Abbott, Susan's closest friend in Hufflepuff, looked around anxiously as she leaned closer to McMillan. "You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?"
"Hannah, he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who can talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."
The group murmured to each other, looking furtive and scared. Ernie carried on. "Remember what was written on the wall? 'Enemies of the Heir, Beware.' Potter must've had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first-year, Creevey, was annoying Potter for photos, taking pictures of him randomly. Next thing we know, Creevey's been attacked."
Hannah looked a bit more sure of herself. "He always seems so nice, though... and he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. Plus, he's one of Susan's closest friends. He can't be all bad."
Ernie leaned in closer to his friends. "No-one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"
Grinning wildly to himself, Harry allowed the disillusionment charm to fail, revealing himself. Hannah let out a quiet scream, while Ernie made a choking noise.
"Hidden powers? Well, I can cook. Sharp dresser, and one hell of a dancer." Harry said in a mockingly-cheerful voice, before looking at the rest of the students. "And how're some of my favourite Hufflepuffs doing?"
"P-Potter!" Ernie stammered. "How long were you there?"
"Long enough, Ernie. It's amazing the things you can overhear when loitering with intent in the library. Now, based on that conversation, I think you have some questions for me, don't you?"
Hannah nodded. "Are you the Heir of Slytherin?"
Harry looked at her, slightly annoyed. She flinched. "You were there in the Great Hall when I told you all who the Heir of Slytherin is. It's Voldemort. Not me."
"How did you get into the Great Hall in that... coffin thing?" Ernie asked. "I've read Hogwarts; A History, and it states that only the Headmaster can come through the wards."
"Oh, Ernie..." Harry replied in mock-disappointment. "Not only the Headmaster. An Heir can always find sanctuary here at Hogwarts."
"But... you said you weren't the Heir of the Slytherin!" Ernie replied.
Harry shook his head. "Couldn't have had this conversation with Ravenclaws, could I? They'd have put it together so much faster."
"You're the Heir to a Founder?" Hannah asked, leaning a little closer. "Which one?"
"Which two?" Harry replied. "But, yes, I'm an Heir. That's how I got to school. Now, I am not the Heir of Slytherin, and I'm not gonna tell you again. As to the Parseltongue and how I survived Voldemort's..." He stopped as they flinched. "Oh, grow a pair, all of you! It's only a bloody word. Anyway... er... oh, yeah. I survived the Killing curse... because of my Mum. She protected me, a living sacrifice."
Ernie, while pompous and irritating, was not dumb. "They're illegal!"
Harry gave him an odd-look. "She was about to die, Ernie. I don't think she really gave a shit at that point. Are you telling me that you wouldn't do the same for your kid, when you have one?"
Hannah nodded. "I would. I'm really close to my Mum, and I know she'd do it for me."
"Exactly." He turned back to Ernie. "Now, you seem to think that I was trying to make the snake attack Justin, instead of stopping it. Why? I told Justin to step back, and stopped the snake. I picked it up, and it didn't attack anyone. Christ, Susan was playing Peek-a-boo with it! Do you really think I'd attack a student?"
At that point, even the most die-hard Slytherin would be hard-pressed to think that Harry was trying to kill him. "No." Ernie admitted grudgingly. "But, Justin's still pretty scared of you. He's... he's not fond of snakes."
Harry nodded absently as he checked his watch. Hmm... it's that time already. Now... how to make this work in my favour... Ooh! He flooded his eyes with magic, letting them glow green in the brightness of the library. "Oh, shit! All of you, come with me, now!"
He turned and bolted from the library, the Hufflepuffs in hot pursuit as he bolted for the fourth floor.
Luna looked up, her eyes glowing white as she read the future, seeing it change. You're changing time, yet she resists your attempts to bend her out of shape. Curious...She stood up, clicking her fingers. The rest of her friends noted her glowing eyes, sighing to themselves.
"There's about to be another attack. Harry's on his way to stop it. We must get to the fourth floor, main corridor, east side." The six were gone in the blink of an eye.
Harry pelted down the corridor, seeing Justin calmly talking to Now-Headless Nick near one of the corridor junctions. As soon as he saw Harry running towards him, several of his Hufflepuff year-mates tailing behind, he froze, thinking Harry was coming to kill him while his housemates tried to prevent it.
He never noticed the grinding noise behind him, nor the quiet hissing as something ancient prowled the hallway behind him.
Harry pulsed some magic into his legs, using it to throw himself through the air, bodily impacting Justin and knocking them both down the corridor. Quickly spinning round, Harry thrust up his wand, creating a shield in the corridor, just before the junction. The remaining Hufflepuffs crashed to a halt as they hit the glowing wall of energy.
The scream that filtered from the junction was enough to chill everyone's blood. The crackle of raw power flooding the corridor set hackles up, and a wave of static discharge filled the air. A ghostly green light filled the junction, before fading.
Harry could hear Blink's unsatisfied hissing as she slithered away, upset that she'd missed yet another target.
Underneath Harry, Justin was trembling, thinking that the Heir of Slytherin was there to kill him. Harry stood up, tilting his head from side to side, making the joints pop.
At that moment, Hermione and the rest of the gang bolted round, quickly taking in the situation; Justin lying underneath Harry, safe and clearly not petrified, the other Hufflepuff's behind a shield, looking on with undisguised awe and fear.
Harry flicked his wand, cancelling the shield. He kept his hand raised. "Stay there for a minute." He stood, and poked his head round the corner. "Oh, that's nasty..." He turned back. "Justin, before you think I just tried to kill you, you might want to take a look round the corner."
Justin took a deep breath, peering round the corner. What he saw was terrifying. Now-Headless Nick was floating a few inches above the floor, his body blackened, blasted and burnt. His head had fallen to the ground, the eyes wide and a look of terror on his face. The vague smell of burning ectoplasm could be detected in the air.
Harry flicked his wand at one of the speakers on the wall. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, Senior Healer Pomfrey, please report to the fourth floor, east corridor immediately. Repeat, please report to the fourth floor, east corridor. Thank you." He flicked his wand again, closing the channel.
Justin looked at Harry, awe on his face. "You... you saved me."
"No." Harry replied, not looking at Justin. "Forget this, Justin. Although, if you could stop the rest of your housemates bad-mouthing me, I'd appreciate it."
McGonagall, Pomfrey and Dumbledore appeared in the middle of the corridor, clearly using a Portkey to bypass the pesky climb. All three had wands out, and stood in a trio-back-to-back formation.
"Excellent response time, Professor." Harry complimented. "What was that? Sixteen seconds? Pretty good."
Dumbledore lowered his wand as he saw the two groups. "What has happened?"
"Another attack. Fortunately, I was able to stop this one. Justin would have been petrified. Nick got zapped by... whatever's doing this. That's why I asked Madam Pomfrey to come. Maybe she can help."
Pomfrey was waving her wand over Nick's prone form, quickly taking readings.
"How did you know about the attack, my boy?" Dumbledore asked. "Do you know who's doing this? Did you receive a tip?"
Hannah cleared her throat timidly. "Er... his eyes lit up, Professor."
Thanks for that, Hannah... I'll bet he thinks I'm a seer, now.
"Indeed?" Dumbledore stared at Harry intently. "Tell me, Harry, did you see something?"
"I knew to come here, Professor." Harry replied. "I just... knew. I knew it was gonna be Justin and Nick. To be honest, since Nick's a ghost, I didn't try and keep him out of the way. I know it sounds a bit heartless, but he's already dead."
"You just... knew? Have you ever had flashes like this before? Perhaps seeing events happen before they do?"
"I'm not a seer, sir. I've never had a 'flash' like you're describing, nor have I had a vision of the future."
"Then how did you know?"
"I just did, sir. Anyway, Madam Pomfrey should be able to help Nick, Justin's safe and sound, no-one's hurt. So, I'm going for a walk." Harry started to walk towards his friends.
"Harry." Dumbledore called out. "If you have any more information regarding these attacks, or anything else that may be threatening the school, I would request that you share it with the staff. It's important that we know to protect the students."
"Sir." Harry replied, not actually answering. He carried on walking, his friends falling into formation around him.
Harry headed back to the Ravenclaw dorms, slumping onto one of the couches. "What have I done..." He murmured to himself. His friends quickly gathered around him.
"Harry?" Hermione asked.
He looked up. "I just wanted a nice, quiet time. Now I've got Dumbledore thinking I'm some kind of seer, Justin thinks I'm a hero... I didn't want this."
Blaise, the cool, logical one began to speak. "Harry, what would've happened had you not gone to that corridor?"
"Justin would have been petrified, same as Mrs. Norris and Colin. Nick got the zap." Harry replied.
"How do you know that it would have been a Petrification? We still don't know what's doing this, do we?" Harry looked guilty as he looked into Blaise's eyes. "You do know?"
Harry looked at Luna, who nodded, then at Hermione, who snuggled a little closer on the couch next to him. "It's... it's a basilisk. King of Serpents. I heard it hissing when it was moving. It was disappointed when it missed."
"A Basilisk." Blaise repeated. "Slytherin's monster is a Basilisk. Marvellous. They can kill with a look. At the risk of being crude, why isn't anyone dead yet?"
Hermione thought back. "Justin would have seen it through Nick, so the effect would be diffracted. Colin... didn't you say that his camera was melted?" Harry nodded, impressed with the 'brightest witch of the age'. It had taken her months longer to work all this out in the original timeline. "And the cat... we still don't know about the cat, since we don't know where she was zapped. But, wasn't the floor outside Myrtle's bathroom flooded? She does it quite often."
"So, it's possible that Mrs. Norris saw the reflection." Padma concluded. "The question now is, who's doing this? And where is the Chamber of Secrets?" She looked at Harry. "Do you know the answers to those questions?"
Harry looked up, panic on his face. "Please don't ask me that. I promised that I would never lie to you, and I don't want to break that promise. Please..."
Neville rested his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Have you been letting this happen?"
"In a manner of speaking... yes."
Before anyone else could speak, Luna cleared her throat. "Harry is working for the Greater Good. Unlike the Headmaster's version of the Greater Good, where people are used as chess pieces, Harry is working to make sure that the people survive the upcoming war. For lack of a better phrase, he is a tool of destiny. I understand and support what he's doing."
Hermione pouted prettily. "I still wish you'd tell us what you're doing."
"I wish I could." Harry whispered. "I really wish I could." He looked up at Hermione. "Can I have a hug?"
The resulting seven person pileup was the talk of the Ravenclaw common room for days.
It took Harry two days to make his decision; he'd recover the Horcrux from Ginny Weasley, any way possible. Unfortunately for Harry, thanks to his prodigious memory, he recalled that Ginny wouldn't decide to throw the diary away until after Christmas, and he wanted to get it sorted out before too much time passed.
In order to get hold of Ginny's schedule, he'd had to do something extremely unpleasant: talk to Colin Creevey. Oh, the kid was nice enough, playful and polite, but he was like an overexcited puppy! Harry half-expected him to suddenly pee on the floor in pleasure. He'd managed to persuade the boy to give him a copy of the first years' timetable, and was now loitering outside the potions dungeon under his invisibility cloak.
As the first years departed noisily, complaining about Snape being a bastard (a point of view Harry could readily agree with), he saw Ginny trudge out, clutching her bag like a life line.
Damn it, Weasley... drop it... come on... Deciding to be helpful, Harry cast a weak cutting charm at her bag strap, making it fall off her shoulder. Ha! Success! The diary skated over the floor. A quick Accio brought it to his hand.
Ginny frowned to herself as he bag snapped. Bloody second-hand bag... Why, oh why couldn't I have had something new? She knelt down at picked up her books, looking casually for the diary. When she realised that it wasn't there, a full-blown panic attack occurred. She glanced round, noticing the book just beyond her reach. She watched with terror as it soared into the air, vanishing into a ripple of displacement. Oh, shit!
Before she could think of anything else, her eyes flashed red, as a submerged personality aspect managed to take control of the body, watching the ripple vanish.
So... the Potter brat has managed to obtain his father's invisibility cloak. I had wondered why it wasn't at Godric's Hollow... no matter, no matter. I believe a little... retribution is in order for this disgrace.
With a tap of her wand on her forehead, Ginny Weasley performed magic no first year was capable of, as she vanished, her bag neatly packing itself and flying onto her shoulder, before it vanished too.
Harry quickly headed back to his dormitory, making sure to avoid his friends. The last thing he needed was to get near Luna while carrying an evil soul fragment. He knew that she'd pitch a hissy-fit of unparalleled magnitude.
I need to get this back to the ship, and under lock and key where it belongs. Harry thought as he snuck through the corridors. I don't want there to be any chance of Ginny breaking into the dorm room to recover it. And even if she does break into the dorm room, even she, possessed by Voldemort, can't break into the box.
As he approached the fifth floor, he whipped the Invisibility cloak from himself, neatly shrinking it down and tucking it into his pocket. He could feel the pull of the compulsion on the Horcrux, the magic interacting with his own, trying to force him to write in the diary. The last thing he wanted to do was allow himself to open up to writing in the cursed object.
He entered the common room, noting gladly that Hermione and the gang weren't present, and headed up the stairs to his dorm room. He heard the comforting hum of the Box's reactor, ticking over since the ship was inactive. He could almost feel the vibration through the floor, the sensations soothing and comforting him.
He pulled the diary from his robes, another wave of sickness washing over him. It was because of the diary that he didn't sense the other until it was almost too late.
Harry span round, a Protego shield on his lips as he deflected a spell. In front of him, the outline of a small figure, disillusioned, stood by the door.
§Potter...§ The figure hissed. §Surrender my diary now, and I might allow you to live.§
Harry summoned his wand to his hand, aiming it at the figure. §I don't think so. You and I both know it's needed, so the odds of me giving it back? You're shit out of luck.§ He cast a Petrificus spell at the intruder, who blocked it casually.
§Then you leave me no choice. Crucio!§
Harry had learned a lot in his life. Spells cast in Parseltongue were substantially more powerful than their Latin or English counterparts, and were far more difficult to block. Harry didn't have time to form a shield or move an object into the path of the spell before it hit him.
For a few moments, his nervous system was lit up like a Christmas tree as the evil energy washed over him. He dropped to his knees, completely unprepared for an Unforgiveable curse from an eleven year old. He simply didn't think that Ginny's body had the power to cast a Cruciatus.
The instant the spell ended, Harry raised his hand, but he was a fraction of a second too late to stop the Petrificus spell that came his way. Fortunately, it would only take a few seconds for his innate magic to overpower the curse.
The disillusioned figure knelt down next to him, putting the wand away, before reaching into their robes for something else.
§I could let you live, Potter... but I like the idea of my vessel killing you. I've heard so much about you, and I want you to die a most horrible and painful death. Enjoy...§
Harry caught a glint of silver as it was plunged into his chest...