CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR –
The Hall is Rented...
It was official: Hermione Granger was confused. True, this had been a fairly common state of affairs ever since she'd met Harry Potter, but she was even more confused now. She sought him out, finding him tinkering in his Portkey box.
"Harry?"
He looked up, spotting his girlfriend stood in the door, nibbling adorably on her bottom lip. Ah, she's so cute when she does that."Yes?"
"Do you have a minute to talk?" She asked, stepping inside and shutting the door.
Oddly intrigued, Harry gestured to the chairs. "Sure. Won't you take a seat?"
After sitting, Hermione took a moment to organise her thoughts. "I have more questions, Harry."
Of course you do. Harry thought, amused. "Okay."
"How did you know about me being petrified?" She asked.
"Same way I knew about Justin." He replied, looking into her gorgeous chocolate eyes. "I can't really explain it." Without telling you everything... it's too early for that.
She nodded. "Your secrets... are they bad?"
Harry wasn't expecting this question at all. He hesitated for a moment, trying to work out the best way of putting it. "I... they could be taken that way, certainly. Some of my secrets are bad, some are good, some neutral. All necessary, though."
Another nod. "When I learn your secrets... am I gonna hate you?"
He sucked air through his teeth nervously. "I... I don't know. I'd like to think 'no', but I can't say for certain. I believe that you'll understand, but whether or not you'll ever trust me again is certainly open to debate."
"Are you manipulating us?" She asked, her voice becoming a little cooler at Harry's rather frank admission.
Deciding to go for broke, Harry nodded slowly. "I suppose in a way... yes. I'm manipulating you into becoming stronger. Better protected and able to protect. I'm manipulating you into becoming a better witch."
"Why?"
Because I love you. "Because I have no other choice." Harry said honestly. "You must live and be happy. Everything else is secondary."
Realising that he'd basically just admitted he loved her, Hermione leaned back. "When do you think you'll be able to tell us everything?"
"Quite a while yet." Harry said, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly... I understand that it's frustrating as hell, but I don't really see another way of doing things."
"Can't you just tell me and let me decide?"
"I wish I could." Harry said. "I really wish I could."
Hermione nodded. "Do you have a plan?"
I did... not so much anymore. "Only the haziest outlines of one." Harry admitted. "When I first got here I did, but that's gone straight down the crapper now." He sighed. "I know that I can't answer your questions, Hermione. I know that's frustrating, and I'm sorry."
"Have you lied?" Hermione demanded.
"Not to you." Harry retorted instantly. "To Dumbledore, yes. To Snape, probably. Maybe a little to Malfoy, but the little shite deserves it. I've not lied to you or any of the others. I swear on my magic." He flashed for a moment. "I won't lie to you. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to."
She relaxed slightly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "I don't think so. Not at the moment. Just... just being with you is enough."
Her heart melted at the admission, something that no other twelve year old boy would say. "Thank you, Harry. It's enough for me, too."
He shyly took her hand, squeezing gently. "No... thank you."
Inside a fifty year old book, a malevolent consciousness was quickly becoming agitated. I tire of dealing with this pitiful child... She has told me of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'... I want him. With luck, I can possess him and gain his body...
Inside the Portkey Box, Harry was typing out a list of things he wanted to accomplish in the upcoming summer. It wasn't a particularly long list, but the tasks were... daunting, to say the least. Dealing with Kreacher was the simplest task, although it was far from easy. He also had to deal with the shithole that was Grimmauld Place, although it was possible if Kreacher was suitably... retrained, he could take care of the Dirty and Stagnant House of Black.
He also wanted to get to work on the defeat of the Dark Lord, although aspects of that would no doubt prove to be difficult. He didn't relish the idea of working his way through the country, but it was necessary.
The Foundation also needed to be recreated, although he was looking forward to that task, since it would be useful to him and a good number of the Wizarding world, too. He only hoped that he could get everything working properly.
The Marauders' Map was one of the most important things, as far as Harry was concerned. By decoding the charms and spells used on the map and then incorporating them into his Portkey Box, he'd be able to keep a watch over places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, giving him warning in the event of an attack. That warning may only be a few minutes, but he'd been in the middle of far too many fire-fights and he knew that a minute or two, sometimes even seconds, was often the difference between life and death.
He grabbed the Marauders' Map again, staring at it intently. Again, the bloody thing didn't just decode in front of his eyes. I really wish I could contact Moony or Sirius about this damned thing. Oh, that reminds me. Need to send him another package. He'll need some clean robes for when he's on the run.He made the mental note, before taking his wand and poking at the map.
"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." He said softly. Instead of taking his wand away, as he would normally to use the map, he kept it pressed down, activating the personality matrix. Harry had a mild flashback to when he first got the map off the twins last year, before focussing on the here and now.
"This is the Son of Prongs. I need the help of the Marauders."
This is Mr. Padfoot. How can the spirit of the Marauders help you?
Mr. Moony would like to ask how the brains of the Marauders can be of assistance.
Mr. Prongs welcomes his noble offspring! How can the heart of the Marauders help you, son?
That one made Harry chuckle. "Ah, Dad..."
Mr. Wormtail would like to welcome the proud son of Prongs, and asks how the caution of the Marauders can serve.
"Dying..." Harry muttered as he read Wormtail's message. "Marauders, I need to know how the map you created was made. Specifically, what charms and enchantments were used in it's construction."
Ah, this sounds like a question for Mr. Moony. Unfortunately, however, this program does not contain the information that you've requested. This program is nothing more than an imprint of the personalities of the four Marauders, circa 1976. For the information you've requested, you will need to contact our organic counterparts. As you are the son of Prongs, may Mr. Moony assume you know who we are?
"I certainly do, Remus Lupin. Unfortunately, I'm a time-traveller, so I can't contact Remus at the present time. Put simply, he doesn't know who I am."
Mr. Moony would like to congratulate the Son of Prongs for such an immense prank. Travelling through time? What kind of spell can do that?
"It wasn't a spell. It was Muggle technology. Obviously, a century more advanced that your time, but it was still just technology. No magic involved."
Mr. Prongs would like to know why you travelled back in time.
Harry sighed softly. "I didn't have much of a choice. When the Blood War was over... there wasn't really anything left. I got a Second Chance... so I made my Quantum Leap."
The map didn't show anything for a moment. When the message came, Harry snorted.
Mr. Wormtail would like to point out this is a remarkably heavy conversation. Perhaps a good prank is in order.
Rolling his eyes, Harry closed the map, leaning back against the console. Guess I'll have to wait until Moony shows up. Shouldn't be too long, anyway. Soon... soon things will happen. Gotta make sure I'm ready.
In the Great Hall, Luna looked at the rest of her friends, her eyes glowing softly. With a softly muttered curse, Hermione leaned closer. "What is it, Luna?" She whispered.
Luna smiled. "Things are going well, Hermione. Shortly, things will be worked out properly. The Chamber of Secrets will be revealed." Her grin widened. "It's gonna be fun."
Several days passed after Luna's prediction, making Hermione even more nervous that normal. Harry seemed to be on the lookout for... something, but she had no idea what it could be. Frankly, it was freaking her out. She'd tried talking to Harry, but found that he was just as tense and nervous as she was. He was little better at hiding it, either, and to their friends, it was becoming more and more noticeable.
While Harry was off in his Portkey box, Hermione called the others together, leading them on a roundabout walk of the Black Lake.
"What's up, Hermione?" Neville asked softly. "You've seemed... unsettled for days. What's wrong?"
Hermione huffed for a moment. "It's Harry, Nev. The last couple days, he's been a bit... off. It's almost like he's waiting for something to happen."
"He is." Luna said, looking into the depths of the lake dreamily. "So far, this is very much like a game of Chess. Harry can't make his move until the Black has made there's. Until they do... Harry's stuck. And I don't think he responds too well to being stuck."
The group nodded, knowing that Harry wasn't exactly the most patient person in the world. Hell, he wasn't even the most patient person in an empty room. Padma cleared her throat. "Is there anything we can do to help him? Maybe a game of Sock Quidditch or something..."
Blaise nodded. "True. We've not played in a while. Maybe an impromptu game might get him out of his funk."
"I... I don't think so." Hermione said. "He's focussing on this.. situation. I don't doubt he'd play, but he wouldn't really focus on it."
Susan snickered. "So... what's it like to know your boyfriend so well?"
Hermione's mature 'sticking her tongue out' manoeuvre simply made Susan laugh harder. "Leave it, Sue. When he's back to normal, we can all tease each other mercilessly. Until then, let's focus on the important stuff."
Neville nodded. "So, we get him to play a little Sock Quidditch?"
"Yeah..."
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The happy, booming voice of Lee Jordan sounded in the dungeons. "Welcome to the 'Let's forget the monster that's terrorising our school!' Sock Quidditch match. I'm Lee Jordan and I'm your host. Sitting with me this evening, we have the Masters of Disasters, Hell's Carrots, Fred and George Weasley!"
"Thank you, Lee. It's nice to be here tonight. I think we're all glad that there's something for us to think about than some ancient monster of death."
"Too true. Are you looking forward to a great display of sportsmanship?"
"No... I'm more interested in watching our little brother get battered with the squash balls again. That was quite entertaining."
"Indeed. If the lovely Miss Granger, who's very lovely indeed, would kindly pummel the youngest male Weasley, we'd all appreciate it."
"Speaking of the lovely Miss Granger, he comes the first team of UQL, the Norfolk Enchants. Lead by Captain Coffee, Harry James Potter, the best seeker in the history of the UQL. We'll carefully ignore the fact that he invented it just a year ago."
"And he proudly leads his team out, the first multi-house team, in fact. A Slytherin, four Ravenclaws, a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor. Which, to be frank, scares me. A member of the most evil house ever... the Hufflepuffs. Anyone who's had a detention with Professor Sprout will agree with us, I'm sure."
"And who are they facing today? Seriously? Okay, well, I've been told that our little Ronniekins... there's no point in making that gesture, Ron. I like girls. Where was I?"
"Ron's... team."
"Ah, yes. Imaginatively titled 'the Weasley Cannons'... good lord, that's sad, isn't it? 'Weasley Cannons'? Might as well put them at the bottom of the league right now."
"Who's there, anyway? Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, a very unhappy-looking Dean... What's his name again? Oh, right. Dean Thomas, who's having to be dragged out to the pitch by two very unlucky fourth years... who are they again?"
"According to this roster we were handed, we've got Alan Pickles, fourth year Gryff... poor guy, being called 'Pickles'... and... John Thomas? Is this for real? Okay... so, who's playing what? Okay, John Thomas and P-Pickles are playing as beaters, while Ronniekins is in goal. Huh... that should be interesting. Playing as Chasers are Dean Thomas, no relation to the Hampton who's beating, Seamus Finnegan and Mark Twist, a seventh year. Finally, as seeker, we have Lavender Brown, from Gryffindor. Huh... a nice balanced team, here."
"For the Norfolk Enchants, we have the Slytherin Spock in the goal, looking as utterly emotionless as a pot plant. Good to see. As beaters, we have the very lovely Miss Granger... please stop pointing your beater tube at me! We're being nice!"
"Okay, while Fred tries to straighten his nose, I'll advise that we have Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood as beaters, while the triple-house attack force of Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones and Padma Patil, while Captain Potter will chase after the snitch. Referring today is Professor Flitwick, who, we've been advised, has already taken three calming drafts in preparation for this match.
"And... we're off! Patil passes that weird Quaffle to Longbottom who... ooh, that looks nasty. Cannons chaser Finnegan just bounced off Longbottom there... get up, Seamus, you wimp! It wasn't that hard!"
"Professor Flitwick's called a time-out while they bandage up Finnegan's knee. No foul awarded... well, that's not surprising considering that Seamus just threw himself at Neville. Any other teams watching should pay attention to the fact that Seamus bounced off. And Seamus is being given a pain-relief potion. Good lord, what a wuss!"
"And we're off again! Longbottom's dribbling the ball down the pitched, dodging neatly round Thomas, another Thomas and Brown who's just stood there... is she looking for the snitch? What? Oh, she's admiring the ceiling... well, why not?"
"George?"
"Yes, Lee?"
"She is still conscious, isn't she?"
"I think so... yep, she's got her eyes open. Ooh, Longbottom dodges a nasty attack from P-Pickles... it's hard to take him seriously with that name... And now it's Longbottom vs. Weasley in goal... and the score is one-nil to the Enchants. Ron, a tip; when the ball comes towards you, you're supposed to stop it, not flail your arms about."
"And now Cannons goalie Ron's throwing the Quaffle to Dean Thomas, who's looking a bit distasteful at playing this game. Beater Granger just blasted the ball out of Thomas' hands, where it's scooped up by Chaser Bones. Ah, the pinball manoeuvre! Yes, the Enchants showed us this move in their very first game, and so far, no-one's been able to come up with a suitable counter to it. Longbottom to Patil... to Bones... to Patil again... to Bones and... she shoots and scores! Again, our little brother has flubbed up! Makes us all proud to be Weasleys, doesn't it?"
"Ron, we're both straight, so that hand gesture is a bit pointless. Seriously, mate, you need to learn to... what's this? Potter's making a sprint up the field! Has he spotted the snitch?"
"It's fairly clear that Brown hasn't. Is she counting cobwebs or something?"
"I have no idea, Lee. And Bones has launched a shot! And Potter catches the snitch! The Enchants win! Ooh, that looks painful there, Ron. I think a trip to the hospital wing might be in order. You don't have a lot of look with the UQL, do you? Isn't that the second time your nose has been broken?"
"And Professor Flitwick awards the game to the Norfolk Enchants, with a stunning 17-0 victory. If we're honest-"
"And we're always honest."
"I think the Weasley Cannons were lucky to get the 0. Still... stop flicking blood, Ron! We told you last time to stop doing that!"
With an eyeroll, Lee clapped his hands. "Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen. That's everything. I'm Lee Jordan, with Hell's Carrots, wishing you all a good night!"
Leaving the large dungeon, Harry felt his spirits lifting. Thanks to his friends, and a solid Sock Quidditch victory, he felt better than he had in days. Of course, he should have known that Fate hated him with a fiery passion, and would make him pay for being in a good mood.
As they entered the second floor, Harry's senses went to Red Alert. Something was wrong here. Something that he didn't know. He turned to his friends, noticing that each of them was sharing his discomfort. "You feel it?" He asked tersely.
"Yeah..." The other six agreed nervously.
"I think wands out." Harry said, pulling his own as he looked around. He couldn't see anything at the moment, but he, more than anyone, knew of various ways things could be disguised. "There's something here... or there's been something here."
"The Basilisk..." Hermione breathed, drawing her wand and shuffling in her pocket for her communication mirror. Ever since she'd heard about the basilisk, she'd carried the small device around with her. "I'll take point if you want."
Harry nodded tersely, hating putting her in any kind of danger, but knowing that with the mirror, she'd be reasonably safe. "Take care."
With a tender smile, Hermione extended the mirror around the corner of the nearest intersection, spotting nothing. "It's clear."
For almost five minutes, they slowly made their way across the second floor, peering round corners discretely. Harry's senses were as taught as a bow string, but he quickly employed his Occlumency skills to calm his mind and emotions. No point in becoming Hex-happy... yet.
"Anyone see anything?" Susan asked, her hand shaking slightly.
Harry slowly shook his head and took a chance. Closing his eyes, he sent out a pulse of magic, his form of sonar. He could feel it bounce off his friends and their wands, but there was nothing else magical that he could detect. "That's not right..." He muttered.
Hermione looked up, nervous after feeling something passing through her. "Was that that weird detection thing you do?"
"Hmm? Yeah..." Harry replied absently. "The only magical cores in the area are us. There's nothing else. There should be somethingwithin range. It's not class or meal time. There should be some people around, but there's nothing."
Hermione was the smartest witch of her generation for a reason. "Another attack? If the basilisk has managed to..."
"Kill?" Harry asked. "It's certainly a possibility. If they were dead, their souls would depart and their magic would be gone. I've never actually tried to scan a petrified person. I don't know if they'd register."
Hermione nodded, raising her mirror to look around the corner. What she saw made her stomach roll with nausea. "Harry..."
Slowly closing his eyes, Harry asked the question everyone wanted to know but wasn't brave enough to ask. "How many?"
It took a moment for the reply to come. "Five... I think." Hermione said, squinting into her mirror. "Yeah... five people. I can't tell if they're alive or dead. We need to go and check them."
Harry nodded as he stepped out around the corner. He knew that Blink wasn't still in the area, so it was relatively safe. As he walked forward, he realised that it was time. People were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damn it... this never happened originally. Is this because of me?
As he got closer, he was able to make out the identity of the fallen students. It appeared to be most of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, lying prostate on the floor.
Hermione looked up fearfully, staring into Harry's stormy green eyes. "Harry?"
Before he could answer, another voice spoke in. With glowing white eyes, Luna intoned, "Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever!" She blinked, her eyes fading before turning to Harry, her face a mask of panic. "Go... go, now!"
Without a further comment, Harry vanished as he ran. Hermione stood to move to him, but was stopped by Luna's hand. "This is his, Hermione." She smiled weakly. "He'll be fine."
Hermione shook her head. "But... the Heir of Slytherin is Voldemort!"
"I know." Luna replied calmly. "Harry's faced him before and won. Have trust and faith in him, Hermione. You cannot assist in this battle. All you can do is be there for him afterwards."
With a pout, Hermione waved her wand at the intercom speaker on the far wall. "Professor Dumbledore, can you come to the second floor, west side? We have petrified students."
Harry ran up to the fifth floor, barely breathing hard. He passed into the common room, barely waiting for the portrait to acknowledge him. Once inside, he dashed up the stairs into his dorm room, quickly pressing his hand against the door of his Portkey box. He passed into the console room, ignoring the glittering console as he headed to his bedroom. Inside the wardrobe was a small chest, containing some of his needed battle supplies.
Internally, he was seething over what had happened. It's never enough, is it? He mused as he pulled off his fragile school shoes. I save people from the basilisk, so others get petrified. It's true: fate hates my guts.
With a slight shimmy, he dropped his pants to the floor, stepping forward and pulling out a pair of heavily reinforced black jeans. Tight enough to be snug, but not hamper movement.
He pulled out a padded vest, pulling it on top of his school shirt.
"All students are to make their way to their dormitories immediately." McGonagall's voice called over the PA system.
With a snarl, Harry raised his wand to his throat. "Sonorous. All teachers, staff, students and ghosts report to the Great Hall immediately. You have five minutes."
Dumbledore looked up at hearing Harry's voice reverberating throughout Hogwarts. He withheld a grim smile as he heard a second year student issue a command to the whole school. What made him lose his resolve was seeing students in the halls look at each other, before turning around and heading to the Great Hall. This will be interesting. Perhaps this needed to happen. I will have to reflect further... after the current crisis is done.
Four minutes, fifty seconds later, the school was assembled in the Great Hall. The teachers were stood in a small group at the staff table.
"I'm really not sure about this." McGonagall muttered, looking round the packed Great Hall. "I wonder why the students listened to Harry Potter instead of me?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "I would guess, Minerva, that at the present time, the students respect him more than the teachers. Even Miss Granger is here."
Indeed, Hermione was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, along with the rest of Harry's friends, positively squirming in her seat. McGonagall glared lightly at Dumbledore, still not having forgiven him for his stupidity and pigheadedness.
Harry grabbed a belt from his combat trunk, lacing it around his waist and beginning to load up items. A small knife, charmed to be ever-sharp, was tucked into a discrete sheath at the back, while a small box of potions were quickly jabbed into a pouch. A vial of freely-given unicorn blood was placed into an imperturbable-charmed pouch, something that would be able to save him from even a mortal wound.
Once dressed and armed, he closed his eyes, his mind reaching out to the ancient castle surrounding him. Arx? You about?
Where else would I be? The soothing voice of Hogwarts mockingly replied to him. How can I help you, my heir?
Is everyone in the Great Hall?
There was silence for a moment, as the great castle scanned itself. The five petrified children are still in the Infirmary, along with the nurse. All else apart from yourself and one other is in the Great Hall. The other is not inside the castle.
Oh, she is. Harry replied, pulling on his boots. Or rather, she's underneath it, in the Chamber of Secrets. Wait a minute... can't you sense the Chamber?
There is something blocking me. Hogwarts replied. There is... a presence, if you will. It is... malicious. Cruel.
Salazar?
No. Salazar was not cruel. He was driven, but not cruel. No, this is far newer. I believe it is a remnant from when Tom was here. He must have somehow interfered with the Chamber.
Probably decided to keep the whole thing for himself. Harry made sure all his buttons, zips and doodahs were fastened; nothing worse than going into battle with your trousers flapping around your ankles, although it'd been a while since that had happened to him. Now, since everyone's where they're supposed to be, I would like to make a request of you.
By your command.
Seal it up, Arx. Seal the Great Hall and the Hospital Wing. Harry sighed as he felt the castle begin to protect herself from the evil within. He could feel the flow of magic change, weakening around non-critical areas while being diverted to protect the true treasures of Hogwarts; the people.
It is done.
In the Great Hall, chaos reigned as the immense doors slammed shut, a series of bars and locks smoothly sliding into place.
"Albus?" McGonagall asked. "What's happening?"
Dumbledore opened his mind, checking on the connection with Hogwarts. "We have been sealed in." He reported after a moment. "Both the Great Hall and the Hospital Wing have been placed on security lockdown." His next words sounded surprised. "I am unable to cancel it."
"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked from the near-end of the Ravenclaw table. "Where's Harry?"
"I do not know." Dumbledore replied heavily.
A shrill whistle announced the school's intercom was being used. "Mr. Potter?"
Harry looked up at the speaker. He waved his wand. "Dumbledore. Can I help you with something?"
"Where are you, Mr. Potter?"
"I'm in my dorm room."
"Why are you there?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I need to gather up a couple of things before I head out."
"And where are you 'heading out' to?"
Barely managing to restrain from rolling his eyes again, Harry grabbed his thick cloak, swinging it around his shoulders. "Well, my basic plan was for me to go into the Chamber of Secrets and recover the little Weasley."
"Mr. Potter... no-one knows where the entrance to the Chamber is. Until we are able to locate it, there is nothing we can do."
"You're wrong, Headmaster. I do know where it is. I figured it out."
"And why have you not shared this information?"
"Because now was the right time for me to figure it out." Okay, a small lie, but hey, needs must as the devil drives... and it's not strictly a lie... in the original time-line, this was when I figured it out.
"And?"
"Is Moaning Myrtle in the Great Hall?"
There was silence for a moment. "She is."
"Ask her how she died."
For almost a minute, Harry heard nothing. Checking to make sure he had all his equipment, he headed for the door, flicking his wand at the speaker, and making the communication school-wide.
"She says she saw a pair of large yellow eyes, and then she died."
"Right." Harry nodded, not bothering with the fact that no-one could see him on an audio-only channel. "Hermione already figured out that the creature was a Basilisk; that's about the only thing that can kill by looking at you. Since I'm a Parselmouth, I can hear the Basilisk while it's roaming through the school. I've been hearing a voice in the walls ever since last Halloween. The damned thing's been using the pipes to get around."
Dumbledore was silent as he pondered for a moment. "If that's the case, why have there been no fatalities? If the gaze is as powerful as you say..."
Harry felt an overwhelming urge to go and bitch-slap Dumbledore for being obtuse. "Because so far, no-one's seen it directly. Filch's little demon saw the Basilisk's reflection in that puddle on the floor. Colin saw it through his camera. I stopped Justin before he could look at it, but he'd no doubt have seen it through Nearly Headless Nick. Nick got the full blast, but being a ghost, he can't die again. Hermione saw the reflection in a mirror. The last five... I don't know about them. I'd assume they didn't look directly at it."
"And what is your plan?"
"I'm going into the Chamber. Rescue Ginny. Kill the Basilisk, if possible. Come back out."
"Harry, you simply cannot do this. You must release the lockdown so that the teachers and I can do this. You do not have the training or skills necessary to face a Basilisk."
"Sorry," Harry replied dismissively, "I must have missed the part of your CV that listed your ability to speak Parseltongue. Or where you had permission to use my given name."
"I... I do not have the ability to speak Parseltongue."
"And yet you're eager to face the King of Serpents." Harry left the stairs on the third floor, and headed to the girls' bathroom. "Sorry, Prof... I'm the only one."
"Harry, I am serious. You must not attempt this. I have no way of protecting you if something were to happen. You must come to the Great Hall, release the lock down, and let the teachers take it from here."
Harry resisted the urge to point out that his back was laced with evidence as to the effectiveness of Dumbledore's 'protection'. "Headmaster, I'm sure that you mean well... actually, I'm not sure of that at all, but this one's mine. As the only Parselmouth in this school, I must be the one who goes. The Basilisk will surely attack if there's anyone else there." Harry stood outside the entrance to the bathroom.
Reaching into his belt, Harry pulled out the flute that Hagrid had given him for his first Christmas. Raising it to his lips, he began to play a tune. Only six notes long, but the tune had a power, a magic of it's own. After a moment, he played the tune again. He heard the sounds of wings flapping, and turned, watching his familiar approach with a grin.
"Mr. Potter? What's that music?" Dumbledore's voice called out into the sudden silence.
"Just calling Hedwig, Professor." Harry replied, leaning to one side as the bird of prey landed heavily on his shoulder. "You ready for this, girl?" Hedwig snuffled loudly. "I know... but it's gonna be a tough fight. I can feel it." There was a mournful hoot. "Don't worry." He reached into a pocket, pulling out a small visor. "I'm gonna attach this to your head with a sticking charm. It won't affect your vision, but it will stop all magical sight affecting you."
In the Great Hall, every student listened with apprehension, as the truth of the situation dawned on them. A twelve-year old boy and a three year old owl were going to battle an ancient enemy, unmatched in it's power.
"Headmaster!" Snape hissed. "You can seriously be allowing this brat to dictate to us! He'll get himself killed!"
"Severus." Dumbledore replied warningly. "I do not see that we have a choice in the matter. Hogwarts herself is protecting Mr. Potter."
"No, Hedwig. You look beautiful." Harry's voice echoed around the hall. "In fact, those make you look cool." There was a strange snuffle/snorting sound. "I'm sure everyone else will think you're beautiful, too."
"Mr. Potter." Dumbledore called out. "At least take someone with you! Yourself and an owl will be no match for a thousand-year old Basilisk!"
There was a sharp cry, which made everyone wince. Dumbledore grimaced slightly, as he realised what it was. "I mean no offence to you, Hedwig, but this is madness!"
Several people in the Great Hall wondered just why the old, respected and powerful 'leader of the light' was apologising to a bird.
Another snuffle/snort. "'This is Sparta'? Have you been sneaking Hagrid's mead again?" A righteous snuffle sounded. "It's not important that it was your birthday. No mead." A mournful, but agreeing, snort. "Anyway, both Hed' and I disagree, Headmaster." Harry answered. "But, it's too late now. We're here." There came a long and ugly hissing noise, which modulated slightly. Dumbledore correctly guessed Harry was speaking Parseltongue. "Oh, my god..." Harry's voice sounded weak.
"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked quickly. "Are you okay?"
The sound of retching filled the hall, making several students turn green.
"You would not believe how bad it smells down there..." Harry's voice was muffled, as though he was covering his nose and mouth. "My god, a millennium of stench... I swear I'm gonna seriously maim whoever's responsible for this. Hedwig, make sure you grab on tight. This may get a little... rough."
"Harry!" Hermione cried out loudly. "Wait!"
A pause, before Harry's voice, softer than before, came back, caressing her ears. "I can't, Hermione. If I don't go, Ginny could be killed. I can't allow that to happen. If I'm not back in two hours..." He trailed off.
"What?" Hermione asked, waiting a moment. "What?"
"Just wait longer." Harry replied, a grin clearly evident in his tone. "I doubt we'll be able to communicate while I'm down there."
"Harry, what about the Box? Can't you use that?" Neville called up.
Harry chuckled darkly. "Oh, how I wish I could, Nev. Unfortunately, however, the basic rules of Portkeys apply. Since I've never taken a Portkey there, nor do I have precise co-ordinates, I can't be certain the ship would arrive in the right place." There was a heavy sigh. "I have to go."
"Harry..." Hermione's trembling voice called into the intercom.
"The hall is rented... the orchestra engaged... now it's time to see if we can dance." Harry said... and the channel closed with a squawk.