Enchanting Melodies (HP SI)

[athassprkr]

Chapter 86: Reassessment

19 October 1992, Hogwarts

Harry returned to his common room feeling both disappointed and excited for some reason. He knew it was wrong, but there was just something about having a worthy opponent to spar against. He only hoped that no one would suffer because of his mistake.

The following day, Harry woke up later than usual. He didn't do his daily Occlumency exercises, nor did he read a book. He was up all night analyzing his confrontation with Riddle and trying to figure out clues that he had missed.

Tom Riddle had played him and there was no way to deny it. Harry had thought that he was victorious, that the moment he had seen the cursed diary, everything would go back to normal. Now, he needed to reassess everything he had thought before. He wasn't dealing with a single soul shard possessing a silly girl of sorts but with an actually brilliant teenager with a mind that rivalled his own. In this life, aside from magic, Harry's greatest gift was his mind. It was difficult to explain, but compared to his previous life, he was just smarter. He could learn things faster, had a very good memory, and just could make links and correlations that he wouldn't have seen in his previous life. He could solve puzzles in seconds, that he would have struggled against in his previous life, even as an adult. Harrison Smith wasn't an idiot by any means; in fact, he was up there in terms of intelligence, but in this life, Harry was just on another level.

Harry's mind was the reason he could learn magical subjects so quickly, after all. Yes, his Arcane Magic helped, and it synergized terrifying well with his mind, but things like runes and advanced arithmancy were all on him. At first, he didn't know if it was a side effect of having magic, but he hadn't seen anyone exhibit the same intelligence as him in Hogwarts. Until Riddle that is.

The older boy was so different from Voldemort that it wasn't even funny. How could someone as brilliant as Tom Riddle end up as shortsighted as the fake Dark Lord who just wanted to live forever and kill his former professor? The seeds were there. Riddle had the arrogance associated with the Dark Lord, he definitely had the magical prowess, but all this planning, the tricks and misdirection were not Voldemort's usual method of operation. Where Tom Riddle was methodical and precise, Voldemort was wild and chaotic. Where he was careful, Voldemort was overconfident. There were similarities, but they were fundamentally different persons and Harry needed to treat them as such.

The wraith that was possessing Quirrell had jumped into Dumbledore's trap without a second thought. He didn't care about subtlety at all, especially considering the manner he tried to recruit Harry. Yes, the Potter scion would have seen through most attempts at manipulation, but he lost nothing by being pleasant. He was so used to terrify people into submission that he didn't even try another way, or maybe he couldn't think of any. The man just giving a private lesson or two would have enticed any student, and slowly they could convert them into an agent. This whole 'join me or die' routine was just inefficient.

But Riddle wasn't like that. His honeyed words could charm anyone. He almost had Harry convinced that his goal was to genuinely try to save Muggleborns and Muggle-raised students. But how did he know that it would strike a chord with Harry? Lily Potter being a Muggleborn is common knowledge, but his being Muggle-raised was something that he kept closely. Daphne was the only one to have noticed, but if she did, then Riddle must have seen it too. It wasn't Legilimency; Harry would have felt it and with the Diary being far away, mind magic was unlikely while the Astral Projection was technically possible.

Did the older boy tailor an argument just to suit the knowledge he gained of Harry in seconds? Because that would be terrifying. If Voldemort had acted like that in his younger years, it was understandable why he got such a large following that was so entirely devoted to him.

But that's not important. What is, is the fact that the Basilisk was going to attack soon, and Harry couldn't really do anything to stop it.

The Potter scion's thoughts were interrupted by Blaise who poked his shoulder, "It's weird to see you asleep this early, mate. You're always up, either at breakfast or with a book in your hand in the common room. Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, "I'm good. I just have something on my mind, is all."

After getting dressed, the two boys met Daphne and Tracy in the common room. The girls were also surprised but didn't voice anything. Still, they went to breakfast in silence. Honestly, Harry was happy that he had found friends who understood when he needed to think in peace.

They all walked to class afterwards, which unfortunately was with Gilderoy Lockhart. Yeah, he had seen too much of this man the previous night, but he had to stomach it even further. It enraged Harry that a fake was pretending to be a professor without any repercussions. Seriously, what are Dumbledore's credentials for hiring Defense Professors? All of the other Senior Professors were masters in their fields and had contributed to the advancement of magic in some way. Sprout had made new ways of crossbreeding plants with surprisingly effective results.

McGonagall had written a lot of theories regarding the Animagus Transformation and helped shorten a few self-transfiguration steps. Snape was the youngest potion master in history, having created over five new potions, and published altered generalized recipes that improved the potency of potions at lower ingredient costs. Flitwick needed no introduction, from Dueling to Warding, that man knew his stuff inside out. The fact that he had a mastery of charm with his heritage was proof that he was so good that bigotry just didn't apply to him anymore.

The other professors were mostly the same, but Lockhart was honestly a joke. All he had were his books, and Harry had checked.

Speaking of the blonde ponce, he entered the room with that disgustingly bright smile on his face, "Hello, my dear students. Now, I have the results of your previous assignments and I am happy to see that most of you have a good grasp on common magical pests and how to get rid of them. So, that means, we're ready for this section of the curriculum that focuses on actual defensive and offensive spells."

The entire classroom muttered excitedly. Harry wasn't one of them. Sure, the pest section was annoying and boring, but Harry didn't really stand out in them, at least not as much as students like Hermione Granger who seemed to study very hard for every single one of them.

As far as Lockhart was concerned, Harry already knew how to deal with magical pests, probably from his presumed guardians. The other students caught up pretty fast since dealing with the pests wasn't that difficult. They weren't dangerous and Harry actually approved of having them in the curriculum just in case students ran into them by accident at home or in the castle. Things like Billywigs, Gnomes, Bundimuns, and Ghouls could just show up in a magical household and having children prepared to deal with them is generally a good idea.

Harry was curious as to what the man was going to do next. Defensive and Offensive spells could be classified in many ways.

Of course, the professor waved his hand to calm the class, "Now, don't get too enthusiastic. Before we can start casting spells at targets, you need to understand a bit about the theory. Don't worry, we'll be blasting each other pretty soon. Now, for the rest of the semester, we'll be focusing on what I like to call elemental spells. Now, for those of you who don't know what elemental magic is. It's the control of certain elements using magic. A master of the water element could sink cities with a thought. A master of the wind element could create tornadoes with a simple wave of their wand. You get the picture, and I know you're excited and everything, but you're not going to learn that."

Harry heard a few disappointed sounds around the room and stifled a giggle. These people were barely able to cast stinging hexes, and they wanted to be master elementals? But yeah, this wasn't a bad introduction and the young Slytherin could see where this was coming.

The professor continued, "Yes, I know, it's a bummer. But I never said that you were learning elemental magic, which takes decades to become proficient at it, let alone master it. I said we would be working on elemental spells, which are spells infused with a simple element. Spells like 'Incendio' which you learnt the previous year, are such spells. There are five main elements. There are other elements of course, but you'll rarely see them, so for the time being, we'll pretend they don't exist.

"Back to the five main elements. There is fire, water, earth, wind, and lightning. Each element has an attribute, of sorts, and its own strengths and weaknesses. If we just take these elements and make them fight, we see that some of them have advantages over others. Water is weak against Earth but strong against fire. Fire is weak against water and strong against wind, which is strong against lightning. Earth is strong against water but weak to lightning. So, if I send a fireball spell at you, it's better to counter with a water spell, which will not only cancel the element but will actually counter the very spell. It's also why you could counter large elemental attacks with less extensive spells if the elemental superiority is in your favour."

The class continued and Harry had to admit that even if he hated Riddle's guts on principle, he was shaping Lockhart to be an adequate teacher. Yeah, it irked him that the professor was under some sort of mind control, or possession, but the man was a fraud who could have sabotaged the education of hundreds of students, so Harry didn't feel that bad about it. The only issue is the level of access this gave Riddle. Like it or not, professors had a lot of perks in Hogwarts, and it allowed Riddle to move in the castle unrestrained and that was dangerous.

As horrible as having an incompetent professor might be, having one controlled by a younger version of the Dark Lord was just wrong. Harry had tried to see if he could find the enchantment the previous day when he used Legilimency on Lockhart. He could feel the sudden urges to do a few things, or sudden bursts of knowledge, but not their source. There had to be an anchor of sorts to allow these compulsions to work on the blonde ponce, and that anchor needed to be connected to the diary.

Getting the diary would get everything sorted out, but the person who had it remained a mystery. With an opponent as competent as Riddle, plots within plots were possible. He could have been invisible and camouflaged somehow in the train. If the diary could hide itself from Harry, there was no reason its user couldn't as well. Maybe his list of suspects was wrong in the first place? Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, even if improbable, must be the truth. But everything was possible with magic, thus what could he trust to make his conclusions?

His encounter with Riddle had really rattled him, but he needed to steel himself and continue his investigation. After all, the man had thrown the gauntlet, and Harry hadn't had a challenge in a long time. For all his reservations, the Potter knew one thing for certain. This year is definitely not going to be boring.

---

Chapter 87: The First Attack

31 October 1992, Hogwarts

It was Samhain and Riddle still hasn't done anything so far. And yet Harry knew that things were going to start heating up soon. After all, using an important date like today to make his 'debut' was in the older boy's wheelhouse. Plus, the symbolism would make that date attractive. While people would be celebrating Voldemort's presumed death, his younger self would start his crusade, whatever that might be.

Harry couldn't stop him, not now at least. The fact that Riddle had promised only to petrify students, while probably true, didn't reassure him at all. After all, the boy had made mistakes before, and poor Myrtle was the one who paid the price.

Sure, the Potter scion remade him runic stone out of stubbornness. He put it exactly in the same place and he knew that Riddle would check first. However, instead of using it as a detection method, he used it as a trap instead. Instead, it just sent a pulse to Harry whenever it moved, it was also connected to another hidden rune stone. Harry had dug a small hole in the floor of the bathroom, where he hid his second stone. The stone near the entrance would send a continuous magical signal to the second one, and the moment someone interrupts the signal between the two stones, they would both send a message to Harry. Harry also added a small marking potion that's mixed with water and that would spread throughout the bathroom the moment the stone is moved, or the signal is interrupted. This would allow Harry to track whoever was involved.

He wasn't expecting much if he was perfectly honest. These traps were impressive in design, especially because of the resistance to detection. Most detection charms focus on effects that can impact the user, so this solution would take many people by surprise.

But Tom Riddle wasn't just anyone and that was the issue.

Outside of this, Harry still hadn't been able to finish the Basilisk glare resistant goggles. He was still stuck on the durability of the lenses, and it looked like he was either going to need to use some kind of diamond lenses, or just treat the glass alchemically somehow. And he was still wary of practising Alchemy without someone actively teaching him since the consequences tended to be wild and permanent.

However, the good news was that the ice magic was going well, and so was his exploration of his magical crest. He had started to instinctively understand magical circles without spending hours studying them. He still couldn't create anything on command, but he could understand the magical circles in his crest as if he were going through a catalogue of sorts. He was still stuck to the telekinetic family of spells, the crest deeming him to not be worthy enough to have access to anything else, but it was more than enough to occupy him now.

Still, it wouldn't be enough to fight a Basilisk. Not even close. And without making sure that every outcome was covered, Harry wasn't prepared to put himself in danger needlessly. And so, Harry spent his days in the Room of Requirements trying to figure out what to do. Of course, he had asked the room to get him to the chamber of secrets, and it didn't work. He asked the room about ways to kill a basilisk, and nothing of it as well. For all the idealism that came with the room, it had a lot of limitations.

And so, Harry spent his time preparing for the inevitable attack but finding little to nothing that could stop Riddle reliably. The fact that the man was controlling many people in the castle meant that he didn't need to use the Diary's victim to do his dirty work. He also could use them as hostages easily, so outing him to the public could be an issue.

As for today, he needed to be vigilant and ready for anything to happen. He wasn't going to be suicidal and go after the Basilisk on a hunch. But that didn't mean that Harry couldn't do anything. The house detector in the common rooms, the Great Hall, and the library were still up and running, so that was an advantage.

Harry was attending the Halloween Feast and was discreetly looking at his suspects in the Great Hall. Every single name on his list was in the Great Hall, talking animatedly at their respective tables. Even the entire faculty was there, even Filch who was playing with his stupid cat. The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.

Finally, the chatter of conversations as the headmaster rose from his large seat among his fellow professors.

"Happy Halloween. Now, while I can drone on and on about this special day, you don't want to hear an old man ramble all night. So, to keep things brief, dig in."

The golden plates and the dishes instantly filled themselves with delicious food. The house elves really do go above and beyond during feasts. As expected, the food was excellent, but the music was a little too dramatic for Harry's taste. All in all, it was an enjoyable night, except for the fact that Harry was still worried about an attack happening.

The Potter scion kept looking around for his suspects all night, but none of them left the Great Hall. Harry had tagged them all discreetly with a tracking charm just in case, but they could be easily dispelled. He kept doing this until Daphne painfully elbowed him discreetly in the chest, "What the hell, Daph?"

"I'm starting to get tired of this Harry. I know that you have a lot on your mind for some reason you refuse to talk about it, but you already don't spend a lot of time with us. So from here on out, whenever you're hanging out with us, you'll pay attention to us. Because you're being a very bad friend right now."

Daphne's words kind of threw him for a loop for a second. Harry knew that he was spending less time with them, but he didn't know that they felt this way. He looked at Blaise who was nodding in affirmation, and Tracy who was playing with her food. It was then that he understood how badly he was treating them. Whenever he wasn't innovating or training for his possible encounter with the Basilisk, Harry did start to view his time with his friends to be a bit of a burden, like a social obligation instead of stressing out.

"I'm sorry, Daph. I understand. From now on, I'll focus only on you guys whenever we hang out."

The blonde looked him in the eyes as if looking for any sign of a lie before smiling, "Good. So, did you hear about Malfoy getting into a fight with Longbottom in the middle of the Quidditch pitch when it was raining last week?"

Harry straightened up immediately, "You're kidding! How did that happen?"

Tracy was the one who answered this time, "Well, apparently the two of them wanted to spend some extra training time on the pitch and of course, they wanted to get the other to stay away, which ended up in a full-on duel. They both spent the night in the infirmary because of their injuries. Flint wanted Longbottom to be banned for 'endangering his new seeker' but Professor McGonagall put her foot down."

"People take this game way too seriously," Harry commented.

"It's a serious game," the brunette protested.

"Exactly, it's a game. In school matches, the snitch is always too slow since professional snitches are very expensive and also very hard to catch. It would be hard to have classes if the games last for days on end. So, in the end, whoever has the best seeker wins, and the rest of the game has very little effect. If you get your beater to attack the other team's seeker and take them out of the game. Even if you're fouled, you'll win the game in the long run. It's a dirty trick that won't do much in a professional match, where the matches are decided by the chasers instead, but it will do."

Tracy was outright gaping at Harry's answer, "I thought you knew nothing about Quidditch."

"I don't like the sport," Harry answered with a shrug, "that doesn't mean that I'm ignorant."

By the time the feast ended, Harry had received no notification from his trap. His suspects had stayed till the end of it, and when everyone started to leave to their common rooms, there was this sliver of hope that Riddle would stay his hand.

Of course, this hope was dashed to nothing as he saw the commotion coming ahead. It was in the path leading out of the Great Hall, just near the stairs leading up to the First Floor, which was flooding with water. A circle had been formed by the Hogwarts student population, and in the middle of it were Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, who looked very nervous.

Next to them was Headmaster Dumbledore himself, who had drawn his wand and was waving it at a familiar petrified figure of Argus Filch, who looked like he was shielding something in his arms with a scared look on his face. When the Potter scion took a closer look, he realized that it was the form of Mrs. Norris who didn't look petrified for some reason.

The little dash of hope that was in Harry's heart had disappeared into nothing as he saw the large words written in blood near the petrified victims:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Yeah, that's an ominous message alright. Harry needed to look at his traps. The entire map was useless if he didn't know when the chamber was opened and the sadistic caretaker was even at the feast until the last minute, alongside his cat. It was a harrowing thought; the Basilisk had literally, been meters away from the student population, minutes before Dumbledore dismissed them.

Harry came in close to examine the scene further, he heard Dumbledore reassure McGonagall, "He's only petrified, but the cat is dead from Asphyxiation. He was protecting her with his arms when he was petrified, and accidentally had his hand over her face. The poor thing couldn't breathe and died."

Shit. At least Riddle hadn't killed the cat on purpose, but damn, this was a very bad move. It showed Harry that Riddle could get in and out of the chamber very quickly and hide the attacks very easily at any moment.

Harry ignored Malfoy making a fool of himself in front of the professor by gloating and calling that the 'Mudbloods' were next. Instead, he slowly walked to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, looking if he could find any clues.

By the time he arrived there, he immediately noticed that his trap was working flawlessly. No one had tampered with them; the marking potion wasn't triggered. Nothing had happened. It didn't make sense. How could Riddle open the chamber without having access to the entrance? Harry slowly walked towards the sink to look at his stone underneath and saw a little piece of parchment just next to the stone. It had the words, "Nice Try!" neatly written on it, and Harry knew that it was a message from Riddle.

Harry stood up with a snarl and froze when he noticed something. The snake engraving on the sink was gone. Son of a bitch, Riddle didn't disable his traps, he simply changed the entrance to the chamber of secrets altogether.

Well, Harry had to admit that the guy was good. But he needed to get to the common room before anyone would notice that he was away. He needed to plan, but this wasn't the time for it. After all, it was Samhain, and he would be foolish not to use such an important magical event to give himself an edge.

He had a ritual to prepare for.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 88: Pendulum

31 October 1992, Hogwarts

Well, Harry had to admit that the man was good. But he needed to get to the common room before anyone would notice that he was away. He needed to plan, but this wasn't the time for it. After all, it was Samhain, and he would be foolish not to use such an important magical event to give himself an edge. He had a ritual to prepare for.

In the stupor provoked by the mysterious attack on Argus Filch and Mrs. Norris, none of the students Ravenclaw students had even noticed that Harry had left. Honestly, he probably wouldn't figure out something that he didn't already know. Riddle wasn't sloppy. The only clue would be the message, which happened to look like perfect letters in a high-up position. Theoretically, any adult would be able to do it, so, assuming that the older student wouldn't let such an obvious clue slip. Tom had obviously enchanted a brush or some paint to do it.

So, as callous as it might seem, there wasn't much Harry could figure out from the scene of the attack. His time was better spent on other pursuits, like figuring out how to best use the Samhain Ritual to prepare himself. As far as he could tell, the best clue would be to use it to 'upgrade' his magical crest. It was very powerful and filled with countless spells and magics. Magic that he could use against Riddle.

He didn't really know what the results of his plan would be, which made sense since magical crests were personalized and varied greatly between families. Harry had read the incantation in the book the Room of Requirements had given him about magical crests, the one that he translated. He had to say, it was a far better read now that he had a good understanding of old English.

Still, it was an incantation that was supposed to enhance your connection to your crest. It commonly prompted visions of remnants of past users of the crest, and sometimes people ended up with new skills, but that was a rare event.

It wasn't something that was commonly known. Harry had discreetly asked Daphne, but she said that any magic regarding the Greengrass magical spell was recorded and that they usually left them alone until a scion's thirteenth birthday, but the last Potter wasn't that patient.

Honestly, the magical circles that the crest was slowly teaching him were already hard enough, and versatile enough for Harry to be busy for the rest of the year. No, the issue was Riddle. He needed an advantage because he was losing quite badly in their little game of shadows. The scales needed to be even once more.

Still, it was a risky maneuver but then again, Harry was preparing to fight a fucking Basilisk. There wasn't anything riskier than that, really.

When he returned to the common room, the atmosphere was oddly subdued. Preparations for the Samhain ritual aside, the Chamber of Secrets being opened was a big deal for the house, and it wasn't for a good reason.

People don't really realize that the blood purists in the house of the snakes were a loud minority. Sure, there was a little discrimination, but the actual number of purebloods in the house wasn't that much higher than in the other houses. The only difference was that the rest was filled with half-bloods, and there weren't any muggleborns. The chamber of secrets being opened was like a shining light on the house, and every single Slytherin was going to be watched even more carefully than they usually were.

Of course, that asshole Malfoy didn't help matters. Yelling out that the 'Mudbloods were next' was not a good look at the house as a whole. It seems like the entire house of the snakes would have a few uncomfortable months, especially since the attacker killed Mrs Norris.

Still, all things considered, it wasn't time to start pointing fingers. Harry was sure the Slytherin Court was going to need to address the entire house about something. They don't normally talk to the house needlessly, so that would be the first time that Harry would see the mysterious group that is pretty much in charge of the entire house.

Deciding to focus on the ritual instead, Harry slowly walked towards the hidden ritual rooms. Harry put on his ritual robes and mask and ignored the weird feedback from his arcane hearing of the ambient magic sliding off the robes. He saw the first years follow a prefect towards the general ritual room. Harry followed them from behind and took a place in the large circle around the room. Harry didn't really have the resources to start a ritual of his own and honestly, he didn't need to. Unless he was planning something fundamentally different instead of the standard ritual, like using human sacrifices or something that disturbing, there wasn't really a reason not to just use the general one.

The moment he stepped into the room; Harry relished the silence that came with it. In a castle full of magic, his Arcane Hearing was always hit with endless noise. He had done his best to ignore it, but it was still this little noise in his head that just wouldn't go away. It was far worse in sections of the castles that were obviously added afterwards. It didn't mean that the enchantment didn't work properly, only that it was fundamentally different, and to Harry, it just sounded like two different songs playing at once, instead of integrating into one larger song.

The room itself was illuminated by completely non-magical candles, and like last time, there was a large stone, a monolith, really, in the middle of the rune, filled with what Harry recognized to be Celtic runes. The Potter scion didn't examine everything, but from the looks of it, it was a prayer for the Morrigan, the Celtic Goddess of Death, asking for peace for those who are beyond the veil. Whoever had set this up had pretty much copied an already working ritual the Celts had designed and were commonly using. Finding and sharing that ritual was impressive, but there was no originality in it. It was like a set of instructions were followed. It worked, but Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed by the fact that very little originality and ritual design were actually used.

Of course, the animal sacrifice thing happened, powering the ritual like the previous time. The candles were blown, plunging the room into darkness, other than the glowing runes on the monolith of course. And alongside this change in scenery, the primal magic that Harry had felt the previous year enveloped the room. Harry still couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was just multidimensional, on a plane that Harry just couldn't perceive. The song that it tried to convey was so complex, so beautiful, even in his limited perception of it. The magic was so fundamentally different from anything he had felt anywhere else.

It was deep and raw magic, the type, which was practised thousands of years ago, when humanity was young, and science was not even a whisper. A time when magic ruled sovereign and was present everywhere in the grass and the rivers. A time which did not exist anymore today.

As far as Harry could theorize, this was the closest thing he felt to True Magic. Wizards simply could not conceptualize the entire thing and decided to implement only facets of it. It was probably why this raw magic was so potent and complex, while magic cast by humans was easily three-dimensional. Our magic is humanity's interpretation of the Source, which is incomplete. The magic itself was filled with Darkness, with Death. After all, it was the day of the dead, and a life was sacrificed for this magic. It was oppressive yet welcoming. It was mostly peaceful.

With that realization, a small sense of clarity appeared to Harry, and he could finally hear something else in the raw death-tainted magic of the ritual. There was something hidden inside the Death energy, something powerful. It was so much bigger on the inside than from the outside somehow. It was very hard to explain but it was a beautiful concept, complicated yet so sad. Life. Harry instinctively understood what this was. As a person who has experienced Death, he knows what Life feels like. It was beautiful, just amazing, filled with possibilities and choices. But it always ended the same way, with forgotten memories and tears, thus the sad. After all, everything's got to end sometime. Otherwise, nothing would ever get started.

The question was why there was so much Life, on a ritual based on a day of death. Or perhaps it was the Dead celebrating life in a way. When Harry focused even more on the feeling of life, he could almost hear a familiar melody that resembled his own. It was so full of wonder and love that it surprised him. He had never experienced such fiery passion before and he closed his eyes, trying to hold back the small tears just from the feeling. He had never felt anything more beautiful than this. Was this what his mother felt towards him? It certainly couldn't be anything else.

And just as he was going further and further, the raw magic practically dissipated, and Harry realized that he had been absorbing the death energy all this time without realizing it. His magical circuits were filled with magic that he knew exactly what to do with them. As the prefects were unlocking the magical crests of the first-years, Harry murmured an incantation, "Middland þu earfe mine foregane, ic ræġað þū, þæt þu þære me wisan. Aide and mestere me þā bēode þā fiercen stofne."

It meant 'Legacy of my ancestors, I call upon you to show me the way. Aid and advise me to weather the coming storm.' It was a small incantation in old English. There was a reason why people moved away from Latin and Old English. Words have power, and somehow these languages shaped magic, in a way. It was why the entirety of Europe which used wands, still used Latin spells. It was just more potent than any other common language to shape magic. Old English was the same, but since it was connected more to druidism than wand casting, it isn't really known.

As he expected, Harry's crest started to burn slightly, and it slowly absorbed the magic that he had gained from the ritual. It wasn't really painful, but the feeling of losing that much raw energy was uncomfortable.

Suddenly, the ritual room disappeared, and instead, Harry found himself surrounded by a land of shadows. There wasn't a sun in the sky and yet there was this glow that made Harry see shapes at the distance. No, the darkness was illuminating the path somehow. That paradox almost gave the Potter scion a headache by itself. The shadows themselves seemed alive, more akin to floating fluids, than reflections of light as they were in the mortal world. Harry followed the illuminated path until he saw a withered tree that didn't have a single leaf. There was no life around. Honestly, if that was the inner representation of the crest, then it definitely looked threatening.

Movement! Something was moving up on the tree. It was a raven. It cawed and floated down to the ground and shifted to a carbon copy of Harry but with silver eyes.

It was odd, seeing this imperfect reflection of his own face. The man's silver eyes were glowing like full moons, but there was something else bothering Harry about them. Ah, yes, they were old eyes, wise eyes, that just didn't look right on someone his age.

Deciding to take the initiative, Harry calmly asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Ignotus Peverell, young Potter. And I believe we have much to discuss."

---

Chapter 89: Legacy

31 October 1992, Hogwarts

For a second, Harry's face froze in shock. This was Ignotus Peverell? The man that had outsmarted Death itself? He looked so normal. From the legends, he should have looked older. After all, he's the only one of the Peverell brothers who greeted Death like an old friend when he died of old age.

Wanting to clarify, Harry asked, "As in THE Ignotus Peverell, from the tale of three brothers?"

The man's neutral face frowned slightly, "Do not always take legends and stories too seriously. Yes, I am that Ignotus Peverell, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that most of the legends of the Hallows are false. My brothers and I did not defeat Death by conjuring a bridge, that's for sure."

"So, where did the Deathly Hallows come from, then?"

The man gave Harry a mysterious grin, "Perhaps one day, my young descendant, when you have proven yourself worthy, I will explain how the Hallows were made. But that's not why you're here, is it? You used a spell to communicate with your crest. So, tell me what you need. Why have you come?"

"Riddle. Tom Riddle. I need help dealing with him," Harry responded reluctantly.

It was a bit of a flaw of Harry's that he didn't like asking for help. He liked figuring things out himself, and sometimes, he tended to be too proud to ask for aid. He knew that it wasn't something good, but he had lived for a decade with the Dursleys without the luxury of help in any way, and old habits die hard.

Anyway, if there was anything he could trust, it was his very own crest. And he really needed the help. Tom Riddle had outsmarted him very easily, and it didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. The older student had a network of people under his control, including a professor. It was funny, in a way, that the soul shard of a Dark Lord, had deemed the man to be so incompetent that it put him under its control and made him teach properly. Riddle was evil and all, but at least he had standards.

So, yeah, he needed to know how to deal with a Basilisk in case that happens, and a way to track down the real Diary. He also needed to figure out how Riddle was controlling his victims. Mind control spells of that duration need some kind of anchor for the spell to work without it being obvious. The Imperius Curse, for all its advantages, was very easy to throw off after a few days without being reapplied, and Riddle wouldn't risk it on such a large network that he didn't always have access to, especially if he's masquerading as a student. So, he had to rely on compulsion charms that are connected to the diary and anchored with some kind of physical artefact to act as a target. That would allow him to send orders from far away without needing to connect to any other. Each order was technically a new spell, and if the compulsion charm was subtle enough, it wouldn't be obvious.

As far as he could tell, this was the method Riddle used, since it was the only way to order around Lockhart from inside the chamber without leaving it. So, Harry needed to find the artefacts on every single control victim, and destroy them, just to break Riddle's network.

Harry's ancestor broke him from his thoughts, "Ah, the soul shard. A very peculiar opponent, I must admit. I have to say that I have never seen something as delicate as a Horcrux used as a weapon and gain this much autonomy."

"I think he made a mistake during its creation. He killed another student by accident so he rushed it, so that her Death wouldn't be meaningless."

The silver-eyed man snorted, "All deaths are meaningless, child. The Dead do not care about the living, it's why they're dead, after all."

"Then, why are you here?"

"I'm not really here. Ignotus Peverell died after living a long and fulfilling life. I am just an imprint of his consciousness in the magical crest that he granted his descendants. The fact that you're compatible enough to theoretically be his successor, is the only reason I showed myself. Of course, being compatible isn't enough. You have to prove yourself worthy of this knowledge, and well, I'm not holding my breath."

Harry gritted his teeth, "Why am I not worthy, then?"

"Because you're a coward," the man simply answered, "Oh, don't pretend to be angry at me. You know you're a coward, I'm inside your head, remember? If it was up to you, you would leave this school, go abroad and study magic in peace. You wouldn't concern yourself with this Voldemort and the Champion of Light. And well, I can't have someone so passive, so unwilling to do anything, be worthy of Ignotus' legacy."

"What about Riddle, then?" Harry protested, "How am I a coward in that case?"

"You are fighting because you are afraid. Afraid of the Basilisk, afraid of your friends getting hurt. Everything you do is out of self-preservation, nothing more. And even then, with all the advantages you have, you're still floundering about like some sort of headless chicken fighting a ghost."

"And why is having a bit of self-preservation a bad thing?" Harry asked.

"Because you're going too far with it, and I can see what giving you this knowledge will do to you. You will hole yourself up in a warded castle and stay there for all eternity. You wouldn't fight if you could avoid it, and I can't trust you to do the responsibilities that come with Ignotus' abilities because you are too afraid. That's not even mentioning the fact that your body can barely accommodate low-level spells. Any moderate spell is liable to suck you dry of magic."

Harry was getting angry, but his most prevalent emotion had to be shame. Yes, Ignotus was right. He was living in Hogwarts while doing his best to distance himself from the action. It was only when a threat to himself and the entire school appeared that he started opposing him and it wasn't going well. That needed to change, but he couldn't really do it on a whim.

"What am I supposed to do, then? How should I become worthy?" the Potter scion asked desperately.

"I guess the Riddle mess could work as a test of sorts. Defeat Tom Riddle and we can talk again about your role as my heir, well, Ignotus' heir."

"I just told you that I can't stop him," Harry protested.

"You can't stop him because you're playing in his field. This little game of shadows is his playground. He has been doing it for longer than you have, and his political ambitions, which you seem to lack, have driven him to hone that skill as instinct. Misdirection and trickery are his weapons, not yours. You have a remarkable mind, but you're an academic by nature, not a politician. So, even the playing field, use your own skills to do it. Instead of trying to figure out what happened to the Diary, try creating something that would track it down. Instead of trying to trick him into revealing himself, get him to overextend, make him overconfident and his innate arrogance will give you enough opening. Hell, you're trying to fight Riddle, when you have another clue somewhere. While Tom Riddle is brilliant, his possession victim is likely not to be the same. Build something to track down his thralls and destroy their anchor. Run around and say his name, look at people's reactions, and they will reveal themselves easily enough."

Harry gaped at his ancestor, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're young and inexperienced. This is your first real opponent, your first step towards your destiny and for all your intelligence, you lack the wisdom and experience to know what to do immediately. You will learn, as I learned as well."

"What about the Basilisk?"

The silver-eyed man shook his head, "Salazar Slytherin's pet is not your average Basilisk. You are fighting the real king of serpents, their apex predator. This will be your first journey in the reverse side of the magical world, the hidden side of the magical world, if you would. This is not a monster that you are ready to fight, no matter how ready you feel you'll be. So, I'm going to break my rule once and give you a slight advantage. After all, you've been ignoring an entire field of magic for no reason. It's time to change that. Good luck, Harry Potter. Do not disappoint me."

Before he could do anything, the man turned back into his giant crow form and landed on Harry's right shoulder. The rest was so confusing, but in that fraction of a second, the entire world of shadows disappeared, and instead, thousands of images, visions, and scenes rushed before his very eyes. Scenes of battles, births and deaths. War and peace, nice cultivated and complete ruins.

He watched as the world broke into two factions of light and darkness, and spectres of the dead roamed the Earth once more. Armies of pure light burned away everything that came in its way, while the darkness consumed everything it could. He saw volcanoes erupting on the command of wizards, giant demonic monsters attacking everything in their way. He saw a man rising from a putrid fog forcing dark-robed figures to bow and acclaim him. He saw the best of both light and darkness fall in this endless way. A giant Kraken sinking muggle warships. Dragons as big as cities roamed the skies, roaring in defiance against a single man wielding a sword glowing with hope. Light and darkness fought a last time in the middle of fire, water, wind and earth. The end was coming, and a victor would be crowned in this endless war. Yet for all of this, Harry could see that what remained was a shadow of humanity, a mockery, not the real thing.

Harry did his best not to fall to his knees and yell out as the visions invaded his senses. But just as suddenly as they came, the visions disappeared, and the Potter scion gasped as the ritual room revealed itself to him once more.

He ignored the looks of his housemates. He was wearing a mask after all, and they didn't know who he was. Instead, he slowly walked away from the room, wanting to lie down on his bed again. It was a hectic day and Harry needed to process everything.

Well, for one, his magical crest held a remnant of Ignotus Peverell, one of the legendary figures in wizarding history, yet the man seemed unconcerned with Harry's well-being entirely. You would think that being his last descendant, he would be helpful. Well, the Potter scion would admit that the man helped slightly. He made Harry realize what he's been doing wrong all this time with Riddle.

Yes, Tom Riddle was a brilliant boy, but his main advantage over Harry was his age. Considering his political aspiration, his sheer charisma, and his age, he was probably the King of Slytherin when he made the diary. That meant that politics and cunning were second nature to him, and honestly, for all their similarities, Harry was a very different person.

They were both raised in neglectful environments, they were both geniuses and magical prodigies. But their hopes, their dreams, were wrong. Tom Riddle wanted to be recognized by the world, but Harry just wanted to study magic and understand it. Both are admirable ambitions, but that made their priorities fundamentally different.

With a jolt, Harry realized what his ancestor was talking about when he said he was giving Harry a gift. This was brilliant, why hadn't he thought of that before? For the first time in a few days, Harry had hope. He would defeat Riddle, and he would do it on his own terms.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 90: The Thin Red Line

3 November 1992, Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts

In the Gryffindor Common Room that evening, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were struggling over their Potions assignment. They were in a very bad mood, having had to attend detention with Professor Severus Snape in the afternoon. Yeah, melting their cauldron, getting a week of detention, and losing ten points each for Gryffindor did not help matters.

The youngest male Weasley was especially angry since he had gotten a second howler from his mother for breaking his wand and not telling anyone about it. That ponce, Lockhart, ended up complaining to Professor McGonagall, who sent an owl to his mother. Neville would secretly admit to himself that the woman had a point. A wizard was useless without his wand, and well, having a broken one affected Ron in all his classes. His teachers had obviously noticed but assumed that it was a lack of skill or control.

Hermione, on the other hand, was busy doing the following week's Transfiguration homework that McGonagall had just announced. Honestly, Neville thought it was too much, but the muggleborn seemed to enjoy it for some strange reason, so who was he to judge? Although, she had been acting a little more relaxed recently, even if she tended to want more time to herself. She did still help him and Ron with their homework, though, and Neville was grateful for that; that potions assignment was a nightmare.

Honestly, Neville just loathed the class. Ron seemed to share his opinion, and even Hermione didn't really look forward to it. The theory lessons with the incompetent Junior professor, and the nightmarish practical sessions with Snape, just made the entire class a living nightmare. The greasy bat hated Neville with a passion, and he was even a former Death Eater. Why Dumbledore is letting him teach and spread his reign of terror is a mystery to the boy who lived. Neville's dislike of the magical field showed in his grade, which tended to iterate between 'Poor' and 'Dreadful'.

The Longbottom scion would admit that he didn't really put much effort into his classes anymore. A little of it was to spite Snape, but it was mainly because the entire class was so boring. Neville was always restless, ready for action, and just sitting down brewing a potion for hours, or writing an essay on the properties of Murtlap Essence, was just so dull. There were so many better things to do, like playing Quidditch, exploring the castle, or, most of all, figuring out who was opening the Chamber of Secrets.

Deciding to distract himself from the mind-numbing essay he was writing, he looked at Hermione, "Any luck with your research about the Chamber of Secrets?"

The bushy-haired girl shook her head, "No. I couldn't find any mention of it outside of 'Hogwarts, a History'. If there was, it's probably gone already. Everyone has been curious as well, so any book would probably be taken out by now."

Ron stiffened when he heard of it, "What did it say again?"

"Seriously, Ron. It's like you have the memory capabilities of a goldfish…" Hermione muttered, then continued out loud, "Well, as you probably know, Hogwarts was built by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They hid the castle with very powerful wards to protect the students since back then, the Statute of Secrecy didn't exist, so everyone knew about it, and wizards and witches tended to be hunted down in sight. The older ones were safe, of course, since they could easily use their magic to protect themselves. Some even made a sport out of escaping witch burnings, the issue was the children. So, for years the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all magical families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

"Greasy git," Ron commented.

Hermione ignored him and continued, "This is something that's been confirmed by historians so far. The legend of the Chamber of Secrets states that Salazar Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic. They theorize that it's some kind of magical monster that only the true Heir of Slytherin could command."

"So, it has to be a Slytherin then," Neville thought out loud.

Hermione shook her head, "It might just be a cruel prank that went wrong. The attacker definitely didn't plan for Mrs Norris to die since she was suffocated by a petrified Filch. And I looked anywhere, monsters that petrify are rare, and not that long-lived. For example, the Cockatrice can barely live more than a decade without dying of old age. The closest thing I could find was the Gorgon Curse that was put on Medusa, who turned whoever looked at her into stone. But that was permanent, some kind of forced transfiguration, not a temporary one like Dumbledore said. A real shame about Mrs Norris though, she was a cute cat."

"That thing was a demon in disguise," Ron protested, and Neville agreed with him. That cat had chased them down many times after curfew when they wanted to explore the castle at night. But the animal did not deserve this, suffocating to death by its own petrified owner. It was just horrible. Sometimes Ron could be a little insensitive, and Hermione seemed to take offence at his careless words. It was nothing new, the two of them tended to argue a lot.

Choosing not to let the situation escalate, Neville spoke up, "What if it was true? What if the chamber was really open? You saw how worried Dumbledore looked. He couldn't even heal Filch. I don't think there's a student that can do something that Dumbledore couldn't reverse. A legendary monster though, could do the trick."

Hermione looked hesitant, "Maybe. But who can it be, though? I have researched most of the founder lines out of curiosity. The line of Slytherin ended with the Gaunts, who all died out over fifty years ago. There's the branch that escaped to America and became the Sayre line and founded their own school there. But a Sayre coming to Hogwarts would be scandalous enough for the news to take notice."

"It's fairly obvious I think." Said Ron in feigned surprise. "Who do we know who wants all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

The youngest son of Arthur Weasley looked at Neville, seeking his approbation. The Longbottom scion looked back, seemingly unconvinced, "If you're talking about Malfoy..."

"Of course, I am!" Said, Ron. "You heard him: 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!' Come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him..."

Neville shook his head, "Malfoy, the heir of Slytherin? Don't get me wrong, I hate the git, but I don't think he has it in his to do something like this."

"Look at his family," Ron exclaimed vividly, "They've all been in Slytherin for centuries. They could easily be secret descendants of Salazar Slytherin, handing down instructions about the chamber of secrets from father to son, for generations."

"Ron, your entire family was in Gryffindor. So was mine, to be honest. Does that mean that I'm the descendant of Gryffindor," Neville protested.

"Yeah, but while everyone was horrified, Malfoy was very happy with the attack, like he's getting some attention," Ron continued, "And it can even be Potter too. He's certainly sneaky enough to pull off something like this."

That brought Neville short. Harry Potter just didn't come to him for some reason. He didn't even think about his godbrother ever since summer vacation. Potter just stopped showing off in class. He just did the work and kept writing in this new notebook of his all the time. No one knew what he was doing, and when Seamus tried to get a peak, he said it looked like gibberish to him. It even had some protection that stung anyone but its owner from touching it. To be perfectly honest, it was interesting for a week before everyone just gave up. It was probably some sort of study notes, knowing the boy.

There were a few rumours about him fighting Flitwick in the duelling club. Neville didn't really doubt them; he remembered Potter fighting the wraith of what he now knows is Lord Voldemort, as a first year, in the forbidden forest. The boy was just on another level, and Neville could only hope to catch up one day. Yes, Potter had the capability to do this. He has been acting a bit differently this year, a mix of distraction, and pure dismissal of Neville entirely. Before, there was this aura of condescension that he emanated. Now, it was like he didn't even notice that Neville was there. This change of character could mean that he's the heir of Slytherin.

But then, the boy who lived remembered the boy pulling him away from a killing curse and rethought his theory.

He just shook his head, "No, it's not Potter."

Hermione continued, "Yeah, that's not like Harry at all."

"As you would know," Ron argued, "You haven't spoken to him for months. People change."

Seeing another fight coming, Neville spoke up, "All of this is just speculation. It could be anyone in Slytherin, really."

Ron stiffened, "What we need is proof. If only we could pretend to be Slytherins and ask questions."

Neville stiffened, "There is, actually. It's some kind of potion. I heard my grandmother talk about it once. I think it's called Poly something… I don't really remember but it can transform you into another person."

Hermione stiffened, "You mean Polyjuice potion?"

"Yeah, that's it," he exclaimed.

"Neville, that takes over a month to brew. And the ingredients are expensive," the muggleborn protested.

"I can get the ingredients easily enough. And we can afford to wait a month. It would also give us enough time to see if the perpetrator attacks again. Do you think you could brew it?"

Hermione nodded, "I'm not sure. I need the recipe first. It's in a book called Most Potent Potions in the Restricted Section of the library."

Neville nodded, "I'll try to convince Lockhart to give us a permission slip. He seems to like me for some reason."

Ron seemed to grumble at this, "It's because you're a celebrity, mate. You're his ticket up in the world."

"Whatever," Neville said, ignoring Ron's little outburst, "I'll handle the permission slip and the ingredients. Hermione will brew the potion. And Ron, keep a lookout for anything suspicious or any other suspects."

They all agreed and decided to continue their homework and a few hours later, all thoughts of the Chamber of Secrets had disappeared. After all, the match against Slytherin was in a few days and Neville wanted to be ready. He wanted to show Malfoy and the entire world, that it didn't matter how much money he threw at everything. Neville would still be the superior seeker. Oliver Wood and the rest of the Quidditch team were putting their faith in him, and he would not disappoint them. He had trained day and night for this. What could go wrong?

---

Chapter 91: Of Gifts and Clues

16 November 1992, Hogwarts

Harry woke up that morning not looking forward to the rest of the day, even if it was a Sunday. He could see where things were headed, and it wasn't something he wanted to be a part of. It all started with a Quidditch game two days back, and things really started to heat up then.

Tracy had dragged him and his friends to attend the match since it was often the most interesting one of the entire school year. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was really heated when it came to Quidditch, and it showed.

Longbottom and Malfoy had spent almost two months doing nothing but training for the match, granting everyone a little break and a very calm school year. Harry knew that after the game things would go back to the way they used to be, but he didn't expect things to explode like this.

Yeah, the game was mostly dominated by the Slytherins because of the brooms Lucius Malfoy donated to the Slytherin Quidditch team, but then, of course, a bulger started targeting Longbottom for some reason and ended up almost killing the boy by knocking him off his broom and hit him in the head after he had fallen. The young celebrity found himself with severely broken ribs, a cracked skull, and legs that were pretty much crushed. He ended up in the infirmary and hasn't been seen since. Oliver Wood, of course, had complained that the ball was obviously cursed, and Madam Hooch agreed with him.

To be completely honest, if Harry didn't know that a House Elf had done it, he would have been impressed. Quidditch equipment is notoriously hard to enchant or curse because of the countless enchantments that are filling it to the brink. If a student had done it, they would have needed to break into Madam Hooch's office without being noticed by the wards, add a curse that is so woven into the enchantments of the bulger that it would be unnoticed by the flying instructor during her the standard pre-match detection. If a NEWT student could pull it off, Harry would have raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Now, House Elves work on a separate magical system. The Potter scion didn't really understand how it worked, only that it had different properties and rules. Honestly, he didn't have the time to research properly, even if he was planning on getting a house elf, the moment, he had an actual place. They were dead useful, after all. But since they were a complete unknown in terms of magical potential, it would be possible for a house elf to curse the bulger.

Anyway, the match was cancelled, since the Bulger was obviously cursed, but there was no proof that any of the Slytherins had done it. But worst of all it was proclaimed to be a tie with no points for either house. Considering that the entire Quidditch tournament is calculated using the sum of points that each house has after all their matches, both Gryffindor and Slytherin were penalized, and weren't happy with the results.

Harry had heard murmuring the previous day of Slytherins saying that the Gryffindors did this so that they wouldn't lose as badly because of their new brooms, the Gryffindors said that it was obviously done to take out their 'star' seeker. Tensions were brewing, and no one was happy.

And if that wasn't enough, Dean Thomas was attacked and petrified just the night after the game. So, yeah, things were obviously getting serious, and it was threatening to turn Hogwarts into an all-out war at any moment. All it would need is a spark to light things up.

To be perfectly frank, Harry was not looking forward to it, especially since he was in the middle of exploring the gift that his magical crest had given him. The repository of spells remained the same, and obviously limited, but the actual gift just activated at random intervals.

When the spirit of Ignotus Peverell mentioned that he didn't try most magical fields, he didn't think that he mentioned divination of all things. It wasn't really as much of a sham as he thought it was going to be, but it definitely was relatively unreliable. Sure, there were fields like scrying that give out tangible results, but seeing the future was so fickle that it rarely ever meant anything.

All Harry had gotten were some weird dreams about a giant snake eating a black lion the night before Dean Thomas was attacked, and a sudden vision of the boy frozen in his place the moment it did happen. It could be helpful in the long run, but so far, all the books he had read about seeing the future seemed to be nonsense. But at least, Harry had a halfway dependable way to know when an attack happens exactly, which is something he could leverage.

But outside the unreliable gift that his ancestor had given him, Harry was also blessed with a single design, a single theory, so to speak. One that would allow him to craft a weapon that could possibly kill a Basilisk. But the materials needed for something like this were so unattainable, that he had only one contact that could help him get them, Arcturus Black.

Harry hated that he had to rely on a virtual stranger for something like this, but he had no choice. Well, there was the Room of Hidden Things, but the chances of that working were minimal.

The Potter scion was already at a disadvantage since he had lost the entrance to the chamber. From what he could understand, the entire place was in some kind of pocket dimension that was activated using a password in Parseltongue. It was why it was so easily moved away by Riddle, and Harry had checked but there seemed to be absolutely nothing out of the ordinary underneath Moaning Myrtle's sink.

At least, the founder wasn't some creep who put his chamber in a girl's bathroom. There wasn't even plumbing when they did the castle, so someone moved it there, probably Riddle. If you think about it, it was an intelligent move. Bathrooms are already warded so no traps could be sprung on him there, the location also made it easier to connect to the castle pipes to allow the Basilisk to move around, and finally, no one would think of this being a place to do so. That means that Riddle had to look for another place with similar advantages to his new chamber, but still, it didn't mean anything since Harry didn't know any Parseltongue. He checked by summoning a snake and seeing if he could understand the hissing. He got nothing…

There wasn't much about the snake tongue in the Hogwarts Library, even in the restricted section, something that was odd since it was common knowledge and the founder of the House of Snakes himself was one. Yeah, that had Dumbledore's fingerprints all over it.

Not for the first time, Harry wished to know where the man put all the books he kept taking from the library. They would probably be enough to fill an entirely new one by themselves. That's how many books the man just confiscated because they were 'too dangerous'.

Now, the biggest question was, why did Riddle attack Dean Thomas? The boy mostly kept to himself and liked art. He didn't get into fights; he didn't make a spectacle of himself. Most people didn't even know if he was a muggleborn or a half-blood, and no one really cared. Hermione Granger would make a better target if he wanted to scare muggleborns. She was loud, she was a friend of the boy who lived, and she liked to show up to the purebloods who looked down on her for being a Muggleborn. Colin Creevey was also the same. He was a high-profile target just for annoying everyone around him with nonsensical questions and taking hundreds of photos every day.

So, yeah, why Dean Thomas? Riddle hadn't attacked him in the stories, so why did this change? Maybe he knew something that Riddle didn't want to be spread out. No, he was smarter than that. A memory charm and a mental compulsion would be enough to silence anyone who wasn't a high-level Occlumens, something that Dean Thomas just wasn't.

Harry was so engrossed with his thoughts that he didn't notice his friends sitting next to him for breakfast, and was then poked by Daphne, "What the hell, Daph."

"You're being inconsiderate again. Remember, we agreed that when you're literally next to us, you wouldn't get lost in your own head."

Harry looked down, "Sorry, I didn't notice you sitting down."

"Of course, you didn't," Tracy commented, "So, what's making you this distracted?"

"The Chamber of Secrets…" Harry simply replied.

"So, you're like a quarter of the school that wants to be the ones to solve the infamous mystery of the founder," Blaise said with a sarcastic tone.

Harry shook his head, "No, I already solved most of it, but the problem I have is why Dean Thomas was chosen as a target."

"What, you solved it?" Daphne asked.

"Well, most of it, really. It's a bit obvious if you know where to look. You need to go back to the original attack, and you'll be able to have enough information to make your conclusions. Each attack is supposed to make a statement of sorts. Filch was an attack on the staff, showing everyone that no one was safe. Especially since he was barely gone for a minute when he was petrified. Every single old attack was the same, so the attacker is using similar means, in a way. The next person to be petrified is supposed to be known by most people. It's useless to spread fear if you don't know who the victims are in the first place. So, it had to be someone noticeable. Colin Creevey, Hermione Granger, and people like that. The purpose is to spread fear, so the question is, why Dean Thomas? He keeps to himself, and no one outside our year even knows who he is. Before the attack, I bet none of you knew that he was a Muggleborn. So, the question is why he was attacked in the first place?"

Daphne gave him a weird look, "What makes you think that the goal is to make people afraid?"

"Well, it has to do with the method of attack," Harry explained, "It's not a spell, because Dumbledore would have easily countered it. Wand magic is structured like that, but a creature's magic can be stubborn and unpredictable. And if the beast is what I think it is, then whoever is controlling it is making sure that it only petrifies people and not killing them. Killing people would actually be easier to do and would leave fewer clues in the crime scene."

"Yeah, but you're basing all of this on the attacks that happened years ago. Whoever is doing this is different. What if they don't want to spread fear? What if there isn't a convoluted plan?" Daphne responded.

That's ridiculous. Of course, Riddle wants to spread fear… Oh! Maybe he did want that before, but this is different. Tom Riddle woke up in the future and saw how much of a disappointment his future self was, so what would he do? Would he really restart a reign of terror just to momentarily hurt Dumbledore, who was in a much more secure position than he was when Tom was still a teenager?

No, of course, he wouldn't. There had to be something else. Something that's tied to Dean Thomas. Something that was different, this time… There had to be another motivation. Tom was a brilliant wizard, but he was fundamentally different. He was a Horcrux. So, what would a Horcrux need? He didn't have any magic, hence the need to possess people. Wait a minute, Harry was thinking of Riddle as its own independent person. But he wasn't, was he?

Harry stood up with a huge grin on his face and exclaimed, "You're a genius, Daph!"

He then kissed her cheek and ran out of the Great Hall. He had a Diadem to find, after all.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 92: Into the Deep

16 November 1992, Hogwarts

He was a Horcrux. So, what would a Horcrux need? He didn't have any magic, hence the need to possess people. Wait a minute, Harry was thinking of Riddle as its own independent person. But he wasn't, was he?

Harry stood up with a huge grin on his face and just exclaimed, "You're a genius, Daph!"

He then kissed her hair and ran out of the Great Hall. He had a Diadem to find, after all.

The Room of Hidden Things was infinitely large, at least it looked that way. And if there was one way to describe it, it would be chaotic. The first time he saw it, he was awed. It was a single room that was about as large as a cathedral at first glance, but Harry had learnt that its size was nothing more than an illusion. He hadn't found an end to the room yet in over a year of exploration. Paradoxically, the room was illuminated by the windows that were high up on the walls. There had to be some kind of illusion or space warping to have that kind of effect, but the light illuminated the room in a way that made it look like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts students.

There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by the castle's proud house elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover half-heartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon-egg shells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords and a heavy, blood-stained axe.

But the idea of treasure hunting here was a foolish one. Most objects had their enchantment withering away over the years. It was a side effect of standard enchantment. The truth was that 'permanent enchantment' is nothing more than an illusion, at least to the average wizard. Enchantments just aren't permanent, there's always a leakage of magic when it's used, hell even if it's staying idle. For all its wonder, magic acted often like energy, and well, a perfectly magically sealed environment was unlikely. A few skilled practitioners go around this issue by anchoring runes that allow them to absorb ambient magic, but that overcomplicated the designs and made the product far more expensive. After all, Rune experts are very rare in the isle. For some reason, the field was often dismissed by the masses, who liked using wand magic more.

Although Harry did read mentions of artefact creation, which somehow permanently enchants an object from scratch without rune anchoring it. But he couldn't find anything concrete about the field itself in the library. So much that he doubted its existence if it wasn't for the fact that there are many relics of past magic that still function today without anchoring runes.

So, yeah, the Room of Hidden Things was pretty much useless to the average wizard. There wasn't any gold, since the house elves put any lost money into the school fund instead of just throwing it away. The enchanted items have faded away, so they were useless. And the items still holding any magic, few as they may be, are almost all broken. The only treasure there were the endless books in the room, and the items hidden in the suitcases and pouches that were thrown there.

Honestly, Harry could probably get a fair bit of gold just looking around in this room and stealing anything interesting, but the issue was the fact that it would be extremely time-consuming. The Room of Hidden Things just didn't take any commands. It just didn't change in any way, no matter how Harry worded his request, so he would need to do it manually.

But Harry wasn't there for any of that, he needed to find a specific thing, a Diadem to be exact.

He was going after the Horcrux, a lot earlier than he should have. He didn't dare do it the previous year since Voldemort was in the castle and messing around with it might have alerted the dark lord. But now, he was dealing with another Horcrux.

Honestly, Harry was theorizing here, but Horcruxes were connected. They had to be for them to work as anchors for Voldemort's soul together, like a net stopping his bodiless soul from moving on constantly. Divided or not, every single soul anchor was a part of Voldemort, a shard of his very self. They all had to be connected in some way. To be completely frank, the Potter scion knew very little about souls, but for some reason, that felt more natural in a way that he simply didn't know how to discuss.

And a magical connection could be piggybacked. It could be used to find the real thing, Harry only needed to be careful that he was only looking for the diary and not somehow alert Voldemort of someone messing with his Horcruxes. From the stories in his previous life, Voldemort did not feel his Horcruxes being destroyed, but the Potter scion how much his stories could be wrong in a few issues.

But what if he didn't really piggyback on the connection? What if he used it to divine the location of the Diary? His magical crest did press on the power of divination, and a small scrying ritual could be done easily enough. It should be harmless and untraceable for the actual wraith of Voldemort since he wouldn't be the target anyway. Yeah, Harry only needed to find the diary.

The Potter scion didn't know how much time it took for him to find the diadem. The room was that massive and there was so much magic around that it made Harry have a headache whenever he used his Arcane Hearing. However, after what felt like hours, a glimmer caught Harry's eye. He didn't know if it was a pinging of his Arcane Hearing, or if he had somehow seen it, but he instinctively turned towards it.

There, resting on a stone pedestal adorned with intricate carvings, was the Diadem of Ravenclaw. The crown-like artefact emanated an ethereal glow, its silver surface reflecting the soft light from the windows.

The Diadem itself was a delicate masterpiece of craftsmanship. Its base was formed by a band of silver, meticulously etched with intricate designs resembling birds in flight. The birds, eternally frozen in a dance of elegance and grace, seemed to be the embodiment of Ravenclaw's wise spirit. The edges of the Diadem curved gently upwards, forming a semi-circular arc that would sit gracefully upon one's head.

Studded along the arc were gleaming sapphires, their deep blue hues capturing the essence of the night sky. Each gemstone was meticulously cut, reflecting light in a way that hinted at the vast knowledge locked within their depths. As Harry moved closer, the sapphires seemed to wink at him, almost inviting him to explore the secrets concealed within the Diadem.

The centrepiece of the Diadem was a large, exquisitely crafted raven, its wings outstretched as if poised for flight. The raven's beady onyx eyes sparkled with a mischievous intelligence, capturing Harry's gaze and drawing him deeper into the artefact's enchanting aura. The raven's feathers were carved with extraordinary precision, their feathery texture so lifelike that one could almost feel the softness beneath their fingertips.

As Harry reached out to touch the Diadem, his Arcane Hearing let out a severe warning. The Potter scion jolted back in panic. Holy shit, that Diadem was dangerous. The compulsion was so subtle, that Harry didn't even notice that it had taken hold. Hell, it didn't even seem to affect his mind but acted more like a cheering charm that's modified towards curiosity and wonder. Now, that he could feel it, he could tell what it was. Damn, Voldemort was a subtle asshole. If it hadn't been for his Arcane Hearing, he didn't know what could have happened, but it wouldn't be good for him, that's for sure.

Choosing to freak out later, Harry decided to just go through with his original plan. He wanted to go back to the common room. His friends were probably worried about him. So, he took out some chalk from his bag, sat down on the ground, and started drawing the ritual circle. He then took out a few candles and lit them at certain places around the circle.

It was a basic ritual that was more spell-like than the actual arcane magic that came with normal ritualism. Harry didn't want anything to do with that, since they tended to be unpredictable. But old diviners wanted standard ways to scry cursed objects without risking a major accident. It wasn't the most powerful or subtle method of scrying, but it worked, and it also made sure that the object itself wouldn't influence the castor in many ways.

With the chalk done, Harry levitated the Diadem towards the middle of the circle and started muttering the incantation, "Anam Draíochta, Lorg Aigne agus Turas Fógra!" over and over again.

It was a Gaelic ritual and incantation, which roughly translated to 'Magical Soul, Mind Discovery and Notice Journey'. One part of the incantation summoned the magic, the next one invoked the search of mind, and the last one changed the purpose of the incantation to be a scrying one.

The chalk around the Diadem started to glow and slowly disappeared, the candles blew themselves suddenly, and the Diadem itself started to glow. Slowly, the Room of Hidden Things disappeared and images began to form around him. Somehow, Harry could feel that the incantation could continue in two roads, one was blue and orderly, while the other was dark and sinister. Knowing that it would be Riddle's path, Harry reluctantly chose the dark path. He would have loved to see the founder herself with his own eyes, but he had a mission to fulfil.

The moment made his choice, he saw flashes of an older Tom Riddle, his face twisted with malice with ominous glowing red eyes. There were many ways to proceed, and Harry pushed the word Diary to the front of his mind. The ritual seemed to understand and focused on the Diary. He saw the younger version of the Dark Lord with anguish on his face pick the first thing he had on hand to use Myrtle's accidental death as a sacrifice for his first Horcrux. There was this desperation and fear that was being shown.

But as fascinating as this might be, Harry didn't want to see the past, only the present and the ritual seemed to understand. He saw Lucius Malfoy put the diary in the cauldron that Ginny Weasley was holding, but the cauldron didn't actually belong to her. She was holding it for her friend who came shopping with them and went to get all her books. By the time it was finished, Ginny handed back her cauldron to her friend and took her own from her mother.

Lucius Malfoy had planned on everything, but he made a mistake. It was obviously a ploy to take out his political rival, but it backfired and now his heir was in danger, not that the man knew it.

Harry couldn't see who Ginny's friend was, so, he focused more on her. He kept going until he could see her properly. And it didn't take long for Harry to see a familiar girl with dirty blonde hair and silver eyes who was writing in her Diary. A lonely girl who just wanted a friend so desperately that she gave her heart out to the first person who accepted her. Luna Lovegood.

Too bad it happened to be an evil diary that wanted to possess her. Honestly, Harry had forgotten about the young girl, preoccupied with his search for the Diary. She was one of his suspects, sure, but he had dismissed that list entirely since Riddle seemed to be one step ahead of him all this time.

But that's it, Harry had found the Diary. However, before he could do anything else, a ghostly version of Riddle came out from the diary that Luna was writing in, his eyes wide and screaming, "BEGONE!!!"

Whatever Riddle had done, it absolutely destabilized the ritual which turned off. There was also some kind of mental attack that came with it. This was all Harry could think of before he realized that he was actually physically pushed into the air, and he crashed into a few broken tables. It didn't take long for him to black out after that.

---

Chapter 93: Moon Shot

16 November 1992, Hogwarts

When Harry woke up, it was easy to notice that he wasn't alone. Yes, his eyes were bleary, and he was very disoriented, but there was a presence that just wasn't there before. There was this shift in atmosphere that Harry just didn't know how to explain. He was still in the Room of Hidden Things, of course, but before he could gather his surroundings, he heard a familiar voice, "You're awake. It's earlier than I expected but it should still be enough for this."

"Riddle," Harry snarled back.

The older boy looked unconcerned and was twirling a wand in his hand, Harry's wand to be specific, "So, Harry, you found out who I was possessing. I have to say that I'm impressed. Sure, you were led around with my trick with Lockhart, and I was sure that I fooled you into dismissing your initial list of suspects from the express, that you were going to keep narrowing down. But you went above and beyond what I expected from you, and for that, you have my respect. Bravo."

Harry shook his head, "You never said that I had to play on your rules."

"Yes, who would have expected Divination of all things to be my downfall? I always hated the uncertainty of it. It's always so easy to fool, to misdirect. Hogwarts is already practically immune to scrying, but you managed to get past that haven't you? You used a connection that's stronger than anything else I could stop. It took some time for me to realize where you were, and I definitely didn't expect you to be in a special room of mine, with another Horcrux close by too."

Harry grinned as he stood back up. Riddle was still pointing his wand at him, but the Potter scion wasn't really concerned about it. His wand was his. Its allegiance was his own, and it would not hurt him, "The thing about Horcruxes is that for them to work, there has to be a connection between them. No one has ever made more than one, but I'm guessing you didn't change the ritual. Soul magic is notoriously finicky, and people made sure that no mention of it existed, so I guessed that for your other self to be a functioning human being, his entire soul had to be connected like a network. I just used one to get another."

"I bet you think you're pretty damn clever," Riddle hissed, "you're not, you caught a lucky break."

"Maybe I did, but you're here, aren't you?" Harry responded.

"Yes," the older boy murmured, "I never expected you to go this far, this quickly. But needs must."

"You also said that you wouldn't cause any more deaths, that you learnt from Myrtle," Harry interjected, "So, tell me, why did Filch's cat die?"

"It was a mistake!" Riddle bellowed out.

"Yes, it was. But didn't you say that Myrtle was also a mistake? So, tell me, what's stopping you from making even more blunders? What if you kill a first year the next time? It's already bad enough what you're doing to Luna."

"Don't involve her with this," the older boy gritted out.

Oh, Harry had found a weakness and like a good Slytherin, he pounced on it, "What an interesting reaction. Luna Lovegood is supposed to mean nothing to you, be just a meat puppet. That is what you alluded to when you talked about the victim you were possessing. But that's not true, is it? The lonely girl with an innocent heart exposed her soul to you and you couldn't help but admire her."

Riddle twitched and the Potter scion continued, "No, more than that. You started to like her. I have to admit that I can see why you would. That kind of wonder and kindness is just amazing."

The older boy sighed with a resigned expression on his face, "She was unlike anything I have ever seen, a miracle child that suffered yet all that pain forged her into a kind soul. A girl with a broken gift, whose clairvoyance emerged when she saw her own mother die. The way she saw the world was just so different."

"And you couldn't help but be entranced," the young Potter continued, "You couldn't stay away from her and yet you knew that you were hurting her. You need to stop Tom. This isn't a game; you're seriously going to hurt someone."

"There's a winner and a loser," Riddle said, "That makes it a game."

"What about Luna? Will she win, or will she lose?"

The older boy stayed silent at that, and Harry decided to press on, "Why are you even doing this, Tom? What's the purpose of all this? I don't buy that Dumbledore is your end goal. You know that he's politically invincible. He supported every business that came out of Hogwarts, he put people into contact in the ministry, and two whole generations passed where they saw him as this godly being who was their kindly headmaster. Dumbledore isn't going anywhere, and you know it. Your attacks literally have no meaning."

The older boy refused to answer, and Harry decided to go for the killing blow, "You know what I think. I think you don't really care about Luna at all, that you're using her in a vain effort to absorb her life force and live a mockery of life."

"HOW DARE YOU?" Riddle exclaimed with madness in his eyes.

"Then explain why you are going through all of this. Are you seriously letting Luna suffer like this for no reason?"

"I'm doing this for her," the fidgety boy answered, "I am creating something beautiful, something wonderful. I want to forge a new world, one without pain, without loss, without death. Is that such a horrible thing to strive for?"

"It does sound like a good ambition to have. But the question is how does possessing Luna, absorbing her life force, and petrifying muggleborns and squibs, help in any of that?"

Riddle released a harrowing laugh, "It's sad, you know. You don't see it but we're so alike. I used to play games like the one you're doing with me. Pressing the right button to get reactions. You played on my fondness for Luna, something that I barely even realized how much I treasured, just to get me to reveal my plans. Here you are, wandless, weaponless, and yet you're the one in control. Such is the power of words."

Harry snorted, "Yeah, your older self didn't really do the same. It was all threats and torture. It's funny when I compare the two of you, you're like night and day. So, let's just make it even, why don't you just tell me why you're doing all of this, and I could even help you if I like it."

"You're not going to help me," Riddle said while shaking his head, "and I'm not going to reveal my plans to you like some idiotic story villain. My plans are my own, and besides, what's the point of having our little game if we're on the same side? It's just not as fun, is it?"

Harry knew that there was something more to his answer, something Riddle was keeping back but before he could say anything the older boy perked up, "Now, the question is what to do with you. You see, I'm a bit old-fashioned like this, but you know too much, you're too dangerous. The game we played was fun, even if it was short, but if I let you leave this place alive, you're going to cause more problems and I just can't allow that to happen. My goal is too important. My dream is too important to risk for the sake of the euphoria of having a worthy opponent. It's a shame really, I was looking forward to having fun with you in our little duel."

The Potter scion's breath hitched, "Come on Riddle, we can talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? You pushed too far, and you raised the stakes. I don't have another choice. If it's any consolation to you, Potter, I am sorry. But you broke the rules of the game. You went too far and forced me to do this. I never thought I'd say this, but you were too good that you evolved from being an entertaining rival to an active threat to my goals. You were proving yourself to be a worthy rival, too worthy, it's why I have to do this. Goodbye, Potter."

Just as Riddle was pointing his wand at Harry, the younger boy activated a magical circle that telekinetically pushed Riddle away. The force didn't really send him flying, but it did go through him. It was so large that Riddle had to drop the only physical thing he had, Harry's wand, which the young Potter summoned to himself.

"You were saying," Harry commented.

Riddle snarled back at him, "Do you really think that I didn't plan ahead at all?" he then wandlessly summoned another wand from the pile of tables on their left, "you're just delaying the inevitable."

Riddle sent in a piercing curse, which Harry countered by summoning a table into a shield and then banishing it towards Riddle. The shards just went through the projection entirely. That was annoying. The older boy sent him a smug grin, "I'm not here. I'm just a projection and you can't hurt me at all."

When the projection went through an entire spell chain without flinching, Harry knew that he had a tough fight on his hands. Of course, Riddle seemed to want to attack Harry using curses that seemed to get darker and darker with each one. The Potter scion dodged a flesh-rotting curse and transfigured the entire pile of tables into two giant wooden arms to act as shields against any incoming attack.

They stayed like this for what felt like hours in this stalemate. Harry's defence was malleable enough to defend Harry, while Riddle just kept attacking and ignoring any spell coming his way. Harry snarled and summoned chains of ice using his Cryomancy, and he charmed them into a poltergeist-banishing charm. It was a simple spell that Flitwick had told them to use on any object that they didn't want Peeves to touch, and it was simple enough to work.

This time, the chains animated chains actually touched the wraith and sent it flying back. However the older boy seemed to take things a lot more seriously since with a wave of his wand, he created a shockwave that obliterated Harry's shielding hand and unbalanced him enough for Riddle to get back up.

If the stakes weren't that high, and if Riddle wasn't obviously trying to kill him, he would have burst into laughter at the dumbfounded look on the older boy's face. Who would have thought that it would be a basic charm that solved this issue? Riddle's magical projection must have resembled that of a poltergeist in some way.

Harry grinned and animated another pile of scrap into a hand that he charmed as well and animated it to attack his opponent. For all Riddle kept sending one blasting curse after another the Potter scion just kept adding more scraps after another to stop it. Honestly, Riddle should have fought back better, but it seems he was restricted in some way. Maybe it was the fact that Riddle was relying entirely on magic stolen from Luna, or maybe it was the fact that he was just a projection, and he couldn't really siphon as much magic. Riddle must have been confident that Harry wouldn't have been able to do much without his wand. That was his mistake.

Before the young Potter could revel in his coming victory, his opponent did something unthinkable, something that Harry would describe later as the desperate actions of a mad teenager. Tom Riddle summoned Fiendfyre in the middle of Hogwarts.

 

[athassprkr]

Sorry, I didn't upload for a few days. I was really ill. So, I decided to add extra chapters to make up for it.

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Chapter 94: Fire Storm

16 November 1992, Hogwarts

Before the young Potter could revel in his coming victory, Riddle did something unthinkable, something that Harry would describe later as the desperate actions of a mad teenager. Tom Riddle summoned Fiendfyre in the middle of Hogwarts.

Fiendfyre wasn't technically a fire spell. Its history was honestly easy to track since the ramifications of the spell were pretty big. The entire thing started thousands of years back with an ancient Greek mage called Prometheus who was studying alternate dimensions. Honestly, the study of parallel worlds and dimensions was something that countless civilizations tried to explore, and it always ended in disaster in some way. This was no different.

Somehow Prometheus had discovered a dimension of darkness and flames and prepared to open a portal of sorts. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice. Not many know what happened afterwards, only that one day, the mage vanished, with all his research with him. Hundreds of years later, when the mage known as Vulcan discovered a trace of the research and recreated Prometheus' research. Thankfully, he didn't open a portal to the other dimensions entirely, and only a connection of sorts to enhance his forging, as the dimension tended to have a purification aspect to them. This allowed Vulcan to create wonderous artefacts that were superior to any other artificer at that age, so much so, that he was known as the god of fire and the forges.

Years later, some descendant tried to recreate the spell but wasn't able to do it. Wands had started to become commonplace, and the ancient forms of magic were often disregarded. So, after decades of study, the wizard was able to create a wanded version of the spell, which acted like an unstable microscopic portal to the other side. Unfortunately, for all the man's intelligence, his magical circuits were subpar. As such, he chose to make the flames themselves help power the portal. What he didn't expect when he cast that spell was that the flames themselves had a basic consciousness that fought back.

The wizard was quickly overwhelmed, his name lost to history, but not before committing one of the biggest disasters in the magical world's history. His flames went out of control and burned Alexandria to ash, the library included. Countless tomes were lost, hell hundreds of experts perished in that fire, unprepared to fight something of this calibre, that's not to mention the artefacts destroyed.

And it was the magical world that lost the most. By nature, Fiendfyre targeted magical energy. Theorists claim that it was some kind of ascended consciousness that somehow absorbed the magic of its dimension, becoming the sole living entity. It literally feeds on magic, and when they realized this, a massive ritual was constructed to seal and drain the entirety of ambient magic from the city of Alexandria, and the fire winked itself out eventually. It took centuries for the magical community to recover, and the library of Alexandria was rebuilt. Unfortunately, it still remains a shadow of its very self.

Of course, after a lot of experimentation, it was determined that a strong will can override the consciousness of the flames and guide it, but not completely control it.

To be perfectly honest, Harry only learnt all of this because he was curious as to why Fiendfyre could destroy Horcruxes. Now, that was obvious, the soul shard was anchored with magic. What Fiendfyre does is consume the magic inside it and that releases the soul, allowing it to pass on, hence the destruction of the Horcrux. The soul itself is unharmed, well, it's already split since, you know, it's a Horcrux, but Fiendfyre doesn't affect souls.

But that didn't matter now. What did matter was the fact that Riddle just opened a gate to what was essentially hell and released magic-consuming conscious flames in a magical school, that held practically the next generation of magic.

Now, Harry wasn't Dumbledore. He couldn't just transfigure an extradimensional fire with a wave of his wand, but for all his stupefaction at the move, Harry knew how to improvise enough to buy himself some time.

So, yeah, Harry did the best thing he could think of and just conjured what felt like hundreds of ice chains. The ice magic that held it was stopping it from melting at the sheer heat that came with it. The chains surrounded the entire flames in a dome and started linking. Harry used this to conjure hundreds of small magical circles in the knots, telekinetically pushing the fire down.

It was the most stressful and tasking thing Harry had ever done. The sheer scale of multitasking alone was ludicrous, but for now, the fire was somewhat contained. The heat was being countered by the ice magic, and the fire was contained by the countless telekinetic pushes that acted like some sort of prison.

Gritting his teeth at the exertion, the Potter scion exclaimed, "Are you out of your mind Riddle? You would risk destroying the entire school, destroying yourself, just to win, to prove a point?"

The older boy looked oddly sad at that, "No, not to prove a point. For a dream, my dream. You know when I was younger, I hoped to change the world. To make it a just place, where talent triumphs over hate. An eternal existence, where no one would ever die. Imagine a world where your parents were still alive. A world without pain, without Death. My counterpart lost his way, he became a monster, an abomination that destroyed everything in his path. He focused so much on Dumbledore, it's obvious. He found out that our dreams would never be possible with the old man around, and so, he started a war to stop him, and he forgot why he had done so in the first place. But I refuse. I will succeed where my counterpart began."

The pressure was slowly getting to Harry. He couldn't hold on to the magic like that, especially since a giant snake tried to attack the dome, pushing him into putting more magic in the telekinetic magic circle.

He couldn't keep this up, but he needed Riddle to keep talking, "You want a body of your own."

"You think too small, Potter. But I have to say, I didn't expect you to be able to cast something like this. And you're a second year. This magic is something I have never witnessed before. Your family crest, I assume?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, my crest."

That's right. Harry's crest. The answer could lie in the crest somehow. Harry pushed his irritation towards Riddle and pushed some magic into the crest, asking for help. The last Potter felt judged in a weird way, before a small confirmation. In return, he could a magical circle that was more complicated than anything he had ever seen before. Honestly, Harry didn't have the time to study it, properly, but that didn't mean that he couldn't cast it from the crest directly.

The energy requirements were too large for Harry to handle without passing out, but he could theoretically carve the circle into the ground and ask the room itself to put the magic into it. Harry growled, and discreetly, started to telekinetically carve his desired circle just outside the chain dome.

Harry had to scale down the chains and telekinetic protection slightly, and Riddle took that as a weakness of sorts. Honestly, the older boy didn't need to act clever. He obviously used this spell because he couldn't use a lot of magic, and the raw power of the Fiendfyre spell was a lot higher than the cost of casting it. It just required willpower, something that Riddle had in spades.

The older boy laughed in glee, taking Harry's struggles as signs of his victory, "You're losing, and you know it. Why don't you just give up, and make it easier on the both of us? You must realize by now that you're not getting out of this place alive. For all your skill and intelligence, Harry Potter, it took a shade of my power to defeat you."

The projection waved its wand and the giant snake of fire turned into a dome of sorts that exploded away, shredding Harry's defences. The magic circles were destabilized, and the ice chains started to melt. Harry could have reinforced them, but he was almost done with his trap.

It took seconds for Harry's defences to come crashing down. The sudden heat and waves of fire burned Harry's chest slightly and he was sent flying back, the impact taking his breath away. Harry could make up a figure through the fire, It was Riddle who had slowly walked towards Harry with a smug smile on his face, "If it's any consideration. You would have posed me a challenge if you had time to grow. Goodbye, Potter. Know that I do not do this out of hate or anger, only because I must. You will try to stop me, and I cannot allow that."

"And you need to stop talking all the time," Harry replied while grinning slightly, before activating his trap. When Riddle moved his wand to command the Fiendfyre to burn Harry to ashes, the fire just stopped inches in front of the younger wizard when he cast a larger telekinetic magical circle, that was far more powerful, blocking the fire entirely.

Harry coughed and let out a bloody grin. His trap was taking hold and it was a pretty obscure magic circle whose purpose was to destroy poltergeists. Since those were magical constructs that developed a consciousness, the entire circle simply absorbs magic and turns it into ambient magic outside the circle. Anything magical inside the circle will die if it's not tied to an object.

The older boy seemed to realize what was happening since he screamed out, "No! No!"

Before the Potter scion could react, the older boy waved the Fiendfyre in the final attempt to stop his opponent. Harry almost grinned at the futility of it and used another telekinetic shield to protect him. The Potter scion quickly disarmed Riddle with a telekinetic push on the wand itself and broke it. These magic circles were awfully handy, yet from the satisfied smile on Riddle's face, Harry couldn't help but feel like he lost somehow. His suspicions were confirmed when he realized that he wasn't even Riddle's target.

Down on the ground were the charred remains of the famed lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, with the sinister black ichor getting down from it. The absurdity of it stunned Harry. He never expected the older boy to do something like this, "You would destroy your own Horcrux."

The Fiendfyre had dissolved down to nothing, leaving nothing but some heated air, and two gasping combatants.

"I am not Lord Voldemort, Potter. Why should I care if he lives or dies? You might have won this round, but the war has yet to be decided. Why should I allow you to have another advantage in finding me again? After all, I'm going to start attacking again, and frequently. I will not stop until you catch me, or I catch you. The next time we meet, I'll have my pet with me, and I won't be so limited. We'll see how you manage then."

"What about Luna," Harry couldn't help but ask.

"I will miss her, but my mission will help her too. I guess I'll have a new wielder soon…"

Harry shook his head, "No, you won't. Why do you think you haven't been fading away yet? You're a projection and your existence is tied to the life force you have stolen from Luna. The life force that is being continuously drained from you is being turned into ambient magic. You will not be able to get another wielder, you won't have the energy to possess anyone for a while. All I have to do is collect the diary and destroy it. This is goodbye, Tom."

The projection shook its head in amusement, "No, it isn't. It's been fun though. I can't wait to do it again."

Slowly, the image of the older Slytherin had dissolved into nothing. Later, Harry realized what Riddle meant when he was on his way to sneak into Ravenclaw tower and saw an unconscious Luna Lovegood in the middle of the corridor. The issue was that she didn't have Riddle's diary with her.

Damn it; he was so close. This was really getting old.

---

Chapter 95: Lunar Alliance

16 November 1992, Hogwarts

As Harry approached the stunned blonde slightly, and after looking around for the Diary, he sighed in exasperation and just Rennervated the young girl. The girl woke up with a start and asked, "What happened?"

"I just found you stunned here and woke you up. Do you remember what happened?" Harry answered.

"No, I think they hit me in the back. Although, it could be an angry pack of Wrackspurts. They can be pretty mean, you know. I did feel my head getting a bit floaty and unfocused before I fell asleep," the Ravenclaw answered dreamily.

"Seriously, Luna, you were stunned from the back. You've got to know that" the last Potter interjected.

"Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. Isn't that wonderful, the uncertainty of it all."

"And is it also wonderful that they took Tom Riddle's diary too?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

Suddenly, the girl looked panicked. She leapt towards her bag and frantically kept trying to find the book in question. She kept murmuring, "Where is it? No! No!"

She then looked at Harry with teary angry eyes, "Where is he? Where is Tom?"

The girl actually took out her wand in anger. Damn, she was really attached to the diary, huh.

Deciding to calm her down, Harry said, "I don't know where Tom is. I'm trying to find him, but someone else took the diary. Do you have any idea who it could be? Any clue would help me find him."

"Why are you even looking for him?" the younger girl asked suspiciously.

Harry grabbed the back of his head in embarrassment, "Well, he and I have been playing a game for a couple of months. I kinda won this round, and since he's such a sore loser, he decided to hide away."

The young Ravenclaw gave Harry a dry look, "I'm not an idiot Potter. Just give it to me straight."

Harry shook his head, "You won't like the answers I'm giving you…"

"I can take it, just tell me already. How do you even know about Tom?" Luna answered with a resolve that was unusual for an eleven year old girl.

The Potter scion looked around to make sure that no one was listening in on them before taking his wand and muttering, "muffliato."

"Look, it's a long story, but I'm kind of a seer. I get random flashes of things that happened in the future and the past. During the summer, I found out that a certain Diary was going to be used to release a monster on the student body. Since divination is very unreliable, I couldn't really tell anyone about it, especially since the specifics were hazy. I researched a bit and found out about the Chamber of Secrets and made a list of suspects who might have done it the last time. Tom and I found out about each other when I put a trap on the entrance to the chamber. We've been playing this game of cat and mouse for a while, where I'm trying to find his diary, and he's possessing a victim to petrify muggleborns. I ended up finding that you had the diary, and he freaked out. We duelled, I won, but he somehow got the Diary off you before I did."

Harry wasn't really lying as much as he was bending the truth. He was a seer ever since his magical crest gave him the ability. He did find out that the Diary was going to be used to release a monster on the student body, he did try to track down who had made it, and they duelled. Harry had objectively won, but Riddle had escaped enough to fight another day.

Hell, Harry was able to drain all the energy that Riddle was able to get from Luna. She wasn't going to get any of it back, but she could regenerate it in time. But that meant that Riddle was too weak to possess anyone for a while. Around two to three months to be exact. It was enough of a break that Harry would be able to prepare himself for the inevitable confrontation with the man again. Yeah, it took Riddle from August to October to have a strong enough influence over Luna that he would be able to possess her.

The young Ravenclaw though, looked stricken at Harry's revelation, "Are you sure about that?" at Harry's nod, she deflated, "I thought he was my friend. I really liked having one. He was just using me?"

"I'll be honest, I don't think he was. Not in the way he thinks, at least."

The girl started to get angry, "I trusted him with everything I had, everything I am. And in return, he took over my body to petrify two people and kill a cat. How is that not using me?"

"It's his nature. Fundamentally, he isn't a person, not really. He's a mistake that was weaponized. The real Tom Riddle put a part of himself in the diary, and that's all it is, a shard of a real person, a shadow, that somehow evolved into something more. He possessed you because it was what he was made to do, what he was designed for you. I don't know if he truly cared about you but the goal he was designed to do came first," Harry explained.

"I don't understand," Luna stated.

Harry forgot what he was talking to an eleven year old girl for a second and decided to change his approach, "Do you know the tale of the frog and the scorpion?"

She looked confused for a second and shook her head. Harry continued, "Well, it goes like this. A scorpion asks a frog to carry him over a river. The frog is afraid of being stung, but the scorpion argues that if it did so, both would sink and the scorpion would drown. The frog then agrees, but midway across the river, the scorpion does indeed sting the frog, dooming them both. The dying frog asks the scorpion why it stung despite knowing the consequence, to which the scorpion replies: 'I am sorry, but I couldn't resist the urge. It's in my nature.' Tom is like that scorpion, he was made to open the Chamber of Secrets, and no matter how much he liked you or not, he will do it."

"But he was so real," Luna protested, "He was understanding when I talked about the difficulties I had about being lost in my clairvoyance. The creatures I created interpret my visions without me being overwhelmed all the time, but I still get lost in my head sometimes. I told him about my mother, about my father's obsession with his newspaper. And he comforted me, he told me that everything was going to be alright, and I could tell that he was being truthful."

"Maybe he was. He's more than a painting but less than a person. He's like half a person that was put in a diary, but half of him is still missing."

"Yes, but he's a diary. How could he grab himself?"

Harry sighed, "He's smart. And when I say smart, I mean a veritable genius when it comes to politics and mind games. He created a network of people that he's controlling somehow. It's more subtle than possession, it's more like selective compulsion charms when he wants them to have. He could have had one of them just stun you in the back and get the Diary before he made this magical projection for our confrontation. It was probably a backup plan in case it was a trap since I was able to take him by surprise and find you. I never got that close before in our little game and he probably panicked. It's just like him to be paranoid. So, please try to remember anything about who attacked you."

Yeah, that magical projection was insane. Honestly, the Potter scion had no idea how the hell Riddle pulled off creating a bastardized version of a poltergeist that was powered by his Diary's energy, and that he possessed to create a virtual body for himself. This was some bullshit magic right there. You know, they said that Riddle was a prodigy among prodigies, but Harry never conceptualized just how advanced he was until then. And his control over Fiendfyre using an obviously unsuited wand, with limited magical reserves, was just insane. Like seriously, an actual Tom Riddle with a real body would wipe the floor with him.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember anything."

Harry sighed in exasperation, "Damn it, I'll have to start from scratch. At least I have a couple of months until he's recharged enough to start attacking again with his new victim. Alright, I'm sorry I bothered you, Luna, but I really need to sleep. As you probably noticed, I'm kinda hurt now."

Yeah, Harry was practically limping away, with cuts on his face and arms, burned robes and a few patches. It wasn't that big of a deal, especially considering that he was near Fiendfyre of all things, but the young Slytherin was just tired.

As he made his way to leave, Luna caught his arm and stopped him, "I want to help you."

"Luna, you don't know what you're asking. We'll probably end up fighting a thousand-year-old monster."

"I don't care. He used me. I bared my soul to him, and he broke my trust," she looked down and croaked, "I thought that I had finally had a friend."

This was just too sad, and Harry instinctively hugged the young Ravenclaw, repressing a hiss as she touched his burns, "Fine, you can help, but only in the research department."

The girl looked up at him and grinned, "Thank you."

An idea struck Harry, "you said you were a clairvoyant, right? Does that mean that you can tell if someone is under Riddle's control?"

"Maybe. When someone is acting oddly, I can see Wrackspurts around their head. They're in a different pattern. I saw it when we tried using cheering charms in class. But it's hard to see from far away. I don't mind trying though, but I need a reference to see."

"Lockhart is one of them if you need a reference," Harry answered.

"Ah, I remember. He's very fuzzy when he teaches, like there's something else giving the instruction. I just thought he separated himself into two personas, the warrior and the performer. Like he was damaged enough by his conflict that he didn't want to show it to the public somehow."

Harry shook his head, "No, that was entirely Tom's doing. He's just a performer, as far as I can tell, at least."

Luna shrugged, "I'll look into it. What else do you need me to do."

"Nothing right now. I bought us some time to plan things out without worrying about students being accidentally killed like Tom did when he was a student. We'll regroup later, while I'm not on the verge of passing out, and we'll plan then. Now, I need to get to the infirmary."

"Here, let me help you," the Ravenclaw responded while grabbing Harry's arm.

And thus, a friendship was born. The very next day, people were stupefied to see Harry Potter, the star student of his year, talk to Luna Lovegood, the known oddball that was nicknamed Loony. But neither of them really cared about the opinions of others, focusing entirely on their goal of stopping Tom Riddle and destroying the Diary.

It was the talk of the school for the entire day, at least until the announcement that Gilderoy Lockhart was opening a public duelling club of his own. Apparently, the man's fame and the general fear of another attack had made most of the school sign up. Harry though, decided to attend for a single reason. After all, if things went according to Canon, he would have his first experience with Parseltongue, and that could be useful. Yes, very useful indeed.

---

Chapter 96: Emerald Wands

18 November 1992, Hogwarts

Daphne Greengrass wasn't jealous. She really wasn't. Well, maybe a little bit. But that was justified. Who in Merlin's name is Luna Lovegood and why was Harry even hanging out with her? It wasn't fair. He barely even talked to the girl and now they were best friends.

It wasn't fair, and it was mostly because she could tell where this was going. Since Lovegood isn't a Slytherin, he was going to hang out outside the common room, and thus without them there. There was a strict policy of not having non-house members in their common room, and that was pretty severely enforced. Slytherin matters stayed in Slytherins and not with outsiders. Harry had barely hung out with her since the beginning of the year, and this was a sign that he was drifting away from her.

From the start of the year, Harry barely stood still. It was maddening and somewhat concerning. There was this intensity and urgency in everything he did. The Greengrass scion honestly didn't know where it was coming from, but her friends and she decided to leave Harry be, and let it get out of his system. Only it never did.

This urgency got even worse after Filch was attacked and the Chamber of Secrets was presumably opened. Something in her gut told her that Harry knew more about the attacks than the rest, but she couldn't really confirm it. To her shame, for a fraction of a second, she thought that Harry might have done it, that he might be the heir of Slytherin, but he was with her during both the attack on Filch and the petrification of Dean Thomas. So, he, thankfully, wasn't a monster that petrified muggleborns with an ancient monster.

Desperate for an answer, Daphne ended up asking her mother for advice. It was shameful, but her mother was very intuitive about this stuff, and she had never steered her wrong before. Of course, the letter she got back was full of teasing that the younger Greengrass did not appreciate, but what she told her was to learn an interest of Harry's, involve herself in it, and they would end up spending a lot of time together.

She ended up choosing Dueling. Well, she chose it because she had no clue what Harry really did in his spare time and when she discreetly looked at his work, she didn't understand a word. For example, he once had a notebook out where he was writing some kind of essay about 'the benefits of using Orichalcum to accelerate the recharging of spell-infused gems'. Seriously, it took two weeks for her to even understand the title, and it showed just how advanced Harry really was in terms of magic. This was post-NEWT research stuff, not something a Hogwarts student, let alone a second-year one, needed to know.

So, yeah, her only choice was duelling. Her mother had given her some basic tutoring in self-defence, but she could only hope it would be enough to impress Harry. He did look impressed when he saw her use that ice hex on Mulciber when he harassed her that one time. Yeah, he was on another level altogether; his duel with Flitwick was just amazing, even if he lost in the end.

Anyway, this was why she was coming to Lockhart's new duelling club altogether. Harry was coming with Lovegood, for some reason, and she had joined them.

It was maddening how relaxed he started to act right after he met Ravenclaw. It was like the stress that was on his shoulders lessened a lot and it showed. It was unfair that Loony Lovegood of all people helped him in a way that Daphne herself couldn't. Well, that was a bit mean, but Daphne had to admit that the 'Loony' nickname was very well-earned. Lovegood was always looking in the air while humming innocently, while always badgering about made-up creatures that her father's insane magazine kept talking about.

They arrived at the Great Hall and noticed that it was overhauled in the same way Flitwick did during their first duelling club meeting. The difference was that a quarter of the school was attending. It was mostly due to Lockhart's popularity, but also because it was listed more as an activity than a club and that meant that people who were already in other clubs could attend. Malfoy, in particular, kept claiming that he was some kind of duelling prodigy and that he was going to beat Longbottom and prove that the boy who lived wasn't that special.

Well, Longbottom wasn't special. Everyone knew that from the classes. He was mediocre in everything but Herbology and Defense, where he seemed to shine. But the unsatisfactory end of the past Quidditch match made everyone itchy to fire hexes at each other. Dean Thomas being attacked so soon after didn't help matters.

It showed in the uproarious chatter that permeated the air in the Great Hall that Daphne noticed the moment she entered the vast room with Harry and Lovegood at her side. If there was a way to describe the atmosphere, it would be that it was tense. Draco was already here, and so was Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle, or Draco's minions as Harry liked to call them, were also there. And so was Millicent, who had started to cling to Pansy for some reason at the start of the year. Daphne hoped that Pansy wouldn't rub off on her; she didn't spend a lot of time with her, but Millicent seemed like a nice girl. She tended to stick with Lily Moon and Theodore Nott but started to drift away recently.

Anyway, this entire thing was a disaster waiting to happen, and so, while waiting for Lockhart to show up, asked Harry, "What are we doing here, Harry? I doubt we're going to learn something here. We're already going to Flitwick's club."

Her friend gave her a slight smile, "Honestly, I'm here for the entertainment. I'm not planning on participating in anything, but you have to admit that seeing Malfoy duel Longbottom is going to be interesting. Plus, I have a feeling that something interesting is going to happen."

Harry's eyes twinkled with mischief a bit at the end. Damn, those green eyes were unfair.

However, the mood was ruined by Lovegood speaking up, "Yeah, there's a high possibility of Nargle infestations being there."

The Potter scion snorted in amusement, "Yeah, there's that too."

Stupid Lovegood and her stupid imaginary creatures, ruining everything…

She wanted to ask more about Harry's reason. Alas, Gilderoy Lockhart strolled onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum. The absurd amount of light cast down upon him by the luminous candles seemed to reflect blindingly off of his teeth, creating a blur, somewhat marring the otherwise perfect image. In stark juxtaposition to Lockhart, Snape strode up wearing his usual black. Lockhart smiled brightly at all of the students as he waved merrily. Snape, in contrast, just looked bored.

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works." He winked and flashed all of them a charismatic smile. This was typical of him. Even in their classes, however competent he might be, the man certainly did have a flair for the dramatics. Daphne knew that Harry especially didn't like the classes and was still sure the man was a fraud of some sort.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape." Snape gave a curt nod, but no more than that. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin."

Yeah, Daphne's head of house didn't like the way Lockhart introduced him and judging by the glare that threatened to burn the celebrity alive, he was not going to go light on him.

Lockhart's competence did surprise Harry slightly, he was still wary of the man for some reason. Nevertheless, a duel between professionals should be interesting. Honestly, after Harry's duel with Flitwick, her expectations were high.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Finally, Lockhart triggered some sort of magic which caused the duelling wards around the stage to start a silent countdown. Seconds later, a resounding, ancient-sounding gong rang out through the hall.

Well, Lockhart did have a tendency to be dramatic but that was just insane. Anyway, the duel started at once. And if Daphne could explain it in a single word, it would be disappointing.

Sure, the students were applauding and cheering, but the art that could be seen in Harry's duel with Flitwick was just not there. Lockhart looked like he was fumbling slightly, had lost his footwork, kept sending standard hexes and curses, and only used the Protego shield. He looked nervous and more than a little panicked, while Snape had a vicious smile on his face, like he was playing with his opponent, and hadn't moved an inch the entire duel. Of course, finally, Snape ended up surprising Lockhart with a shield breaker and an overpowered disarming charm that sent the ponce flying out.

Maybe Harry's suspicions about Lockhart were true because that was truly a subpar effort on his part. When she turned towards her friend, she realized that he had a vicious smile on his face, like he was being vindicated somehow. When their eyes met, he gave her a smug look, and she ended up elbowing him, "Fine, you might have a point. Don't let it get to your head. Tracy is going to be heartbroken when she hears about this."

The girl kept defending him all semester and lorded Harry's mistake over his head for weeks. Yet, Harry was sure that Lockhart wasn't who he said he was, that he didn't do the feats in his book and Daphne had to agree with him slightly. She and Blaise decided not to attend the meeting since they said that Flitwick was probably more experienced in duelling, and they already had enough work as it is.

The Professor stood up and gave them a startling smile, "That was a good showing, Professor Snape. Now, as you may have noticed, we both agreed beforehand to stick to OWL spells or less, since we didn't want to overwhelm you. Professor Snape did a good job with one of the most elementary yet underused pieces of magic, the Disarming charm. Of course, as your defence teacher, I know that I taught it to all of you, but what I hadn't taught you is how to chain that spell to a shield breaker. A truly vicious combination so let's start with that."

For the next hour, Lockhart made sure they mastered the disarming charm, the basic Contego shield, how to cast a shield breaker, and a small spell chain of spells they learned the previous year.

Of course, by the end of the lesson, it was time for the sparring, which was strictly voluntary. The duels tended to end in less than a minute. Daphne herself fought against some third-year Hufflepuff girl and won easily. Harry had given her a proud look afterwards.

Ron Weasley, who had gotten a new wand for the safety of the entire school, ended up getting easily defeated by Theo Nott. But Crabbe and Goyle both lost their duels with Goldstein and Boot. Anyway, while humorous, the duel between Granger and Millicent was a disaster, especially since it ended up as a physical fight, where the muggleborn ended up in a headlock and was whimpering in pain. The professors ended up disqualifying both of them since physical contact was illegal in duelling.

Neither Harry nor Lovegood decided to put their names forward, and it was noticed. Thankfully, Malfoy was too preoccupied with his coming duel with Longbottom to make a scene. When that particular duel was announced, he stood up straight and looked very focused for some reason. She didn't really understand why Harry was invested in this duel, but it felt like it was exactly what he came to the meeting for.

And if Harry was interested in something, the young Greengrass knew that it was worth keeping an eye on. So, as the duelling wards came down once more, and the boy who lived and the Malfoy scion prepared themselves, Daphne decided to see what got Harry to waste almost two hours of his precious time.

---

Chapter 97: The Tongue of Serpents

18 November 1992, Hogwarts

When Harry attended Lockhart's duelling club session, he didn't really know what to expect, especially with the blonde professor's surprising competence as a teacher. Honestly, the Potter scion only came to get a first glance at Parseltongue being used. The Tongue of Serpents isn't something that has been studied much, deemed as family magic more than any other spell.

It didn't make any sense. Family magic was something that you had when you were born. You couldn't really give it to someone. Soul shard in his scar or not, if Parseltongue was genuine family magic, then Longbottom shouldn't be able to speak to snakes. And considering that in the story, the boy who lived was able to do it, and that was a mystery that Harry wanted to solve.

Honestly, the mere existence of Parseltongue baffled Harry. It couldn't be a regular language. Snakes were good predators, who could hunt in packs with basic tactics to ambush large prey, but they definitely didn't have the intellect to follow precise orders like Voldemort's rumoured snake familiar, at least when it came to non-magical snakes. So, Harry was curious as to how it worked.

It was a mystery worth solving, and it did make a good way to test whether or not Longbottom was a Parselmouth. And examining the use of the snake tongue with his Arcane Hearing could be a clue to finding where Riddle put the new entrance to the chamber in some way.

Ten minutes into the meeting, Harry already doubted whether it would be worth it. The duelling demonstration between Lockhart and Snape was just despicable on both sides. Sure, the spells were obviously limited to the standard curriculum until OWL level, but that made sense since this meeting was for first years to fourth years, so using any sort of advanced magic would go over most people's heads.

But no, what made Harry suppress a sneer while watching the spar was the utter disregard for duelling as a sport was being shown. Snape was obviously a fighter, and so was using ambush and light Auror tactics. He was also missing most of his arsenal since he obviously specialized in dark spells. Harry did see the man stiffen in the middle of a spell chain, or suddenly change wand movement, preparing to cast a curse by instinct. It just made him look sluggish.

And speaking of instincts, Lockhart didn't have any and it was obvious. Riddle being stuck in the diary for at least a couple of months made whatever way Riddle was making him competent stop. The man just kept sending spells without any tactics in mind and cowered behind a Protego shield for most of the spar before Snape had enough of him and sent him flying.

So, yeah, it was a disappointment. Even Luna and Daphne thought the same, considering the small frowns on their faces. The two girls had insisted to accompany him for some reason, even though he had told them that it would be a waste of time if they wanted to learn anything.

After a practising session that honestly felt like ages, Lockhart announced the spars to practice what they had learnt. The two girls ended up participating in a small duel each, both of them winning their own fight. Daphne was obviously a little more experienced, probably because of Flitwick's duelling sessions and whatever self-defence spells she had learnt at home.

Anyway, eventually, the duel Harry came to see appeared. Longbottom against Malfoy. For some reason, people were excited about the rivalry. The two boys were obviously incensed with each other. Malfoy was angry at Longbottom because he thought that the boy who lived was the one who hexed the bulger that attacked him to spare Gryffindor their humiliating defeat. The blonde ponce kept complaining about it in the common room, so much so that Harry wanted to punch him just to shut him up.

Longbottom, though, just seemed angry in general ever since the attack. The fact that he was a suspect didn't help at all, since he was the one who discovered Filch's petrified body and Mrs Norris' corpse. The fact that Dean Thomas, his roommate, was petrified later, felt more like a taunt than anything else. Apparently, the boy who lived had started a crusade and vowed publicly to the Gryffindor common room that he would get to the bottom of things and avenge their fallen comrades.

That boy really was dramatic.

Anyway, it was obvious to everyone that the two of them were going to ignore every restriction and go all out the moment the duel started, and well, they did.

It was a relief that neither of the duelers knew any permanently harmful spells, and Snape being there would be able to deal with any real issue. Anyway, the duel turned into a common schoolyard scuffle, with practically no shielding and just common spells and hexes.

Of course, things started to heat up a bit when Malfoy snarled and sent in a cutting curse of all things, "Lacero!" It wasn't really a dark curse, but it was a little frowned upon because it was optimized for cutting biological matter, like human flesh.

Luckily, Longbottom dodged most of it, but he did end up with a thin red line on his gut, with blood slowly looking down on it. The boy who lived frowned, and well, he went all out on it. It seems that the Longbottom scion had started to learn some self-defence in his spare time because he snarled and started a pretty interesting spell chain. He started by casting a Knockback Jinx that threw the young Slytherin in the air and followed it with an Impediment Jinx, that froze him in the air. The boy who lived proceeded to cast a veritable barrage of pranking spells before finally casting a Descendo charm that pulled the boy back into the ground.

By the end of it, Malfoy had orange skin with pink dots all around, pimples on his face, and a horn on his forehead like a unicorn. Yeah, Longbottom was going to win this handsomely, but Neville's status as a Parselmouth hadn't been tested yet.

Lockhart smiled blindingly and started to release the ward, "A round of applause for our winner, Mr Neville Longbottom."

And so, with the wards down a bit, Harry decided to involve himself a bit. He slowly used his Legilimency to project the idea towards Malfoy. It wasn't even anything harmful. It barely even qualified as a compulsion. It was just an idea, that the Malfoy scion grasped like a lifeline while he was still lying on the ground and snarled, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Longbottom watched, in pure disbelief, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. Malfoy seemed to have fainted from the exertion of the last spell, but this was the exact scenario Harry wanted to see.

The spell itself wasn't a conjuration but a summoning. It was very dangerous magic but not a particularly difficult one. The main danger was the sheer randomness of the outcome. This spell in particular simply finds a random non-magical snake and summons it at the end of the castor's wand. It could just as easily be a giant boa constrictor or a harmless garden snake. And thus, the magical price of the summoning changes with the result and the location, which explained why Malfoy fainted immediately after casting the spell. One thing was for certain, that snake came from Hogwarts, probably in the forbidden forest. The wards wouldn't allow something from outside to come in, especially with such an easy spell.

To deal with the snake is pretty simple. You either could unsummon it, which teleports that snake back, or you could just kill it.

Snape stepped forward, offering to help out Longbottom, and so was Lockhart for that matter. Longbottom chose not to listen to them, and for some reason, he just tried to blast the damn thing. With surprising flexibility, the snake avoided the spell entirely and started to slither menacingly towards the boy who lived.

The two professors tried to act quickly, but suddenly Longbottom started to his, and Harry finally started listening to Parseltongue for the first time in his life. It wasn't a language; the hisses and spits were meaningless. No, it was how the ability expressed itself, how it was cast, in a way. Because it was a spell, an immensely complex one, but a spell, nonetheless.

It was some kind of soul projection, that enveloped all snakes around and gave them a temporary spark of magic, and thus intelligence. The rest was just a way to communicate an intent in a way. It was like an idea, turned into a message, that communicated perfectly. The noise was some kind of mnemonic way to communicate. How fascinating.

But in the end, it was a spell, which could be used by anyone, but would probably need decades of training to master. Yet, here was Longbottom doing it without even realizing it. No, it was more like he didn't even deal with the process of a spell. Why did that sound familiar? Oh, yes, magical crests. Salazar Slytherin must have put the ability as a spell in his magical crest. An instant mastery of Parseltongue, but how did Longbottom get the crest?

Oh, Voldemort. The crest must have been something that he had inherited. And when Longbottom became a Horcrux, a shard of the crest must have accidentally been added to the scar as well. Maybe, the scar is even the manifestation of the crest? Possible, but unlikely.

Well, that gives a whole different meaning to the phrase: "Marked as an equal".

Of course, back to the duelling club, the entire crowd was silent. Although, there were a few gasps around the hall. They all seemed to wait for the metaphorical bomb to go off as everyone started to realize that Neville Longbottom, the fucking boy who lived, was a parselmouth.

Before it could, Hermione and Weasley rushed forward and began to guide their dazed-looking friend swiftly out of the room. Just as the hall started muttering, Harry felt an arm wrap protectively around him and he was suddenly pulled right up against Daphne. She gave him a slight accusing glare, "Not here. We're leaving."

With her arm still draped around his shoulders, Daphne began to lead Harry towards the hall's exit, walking at a very brisk pace. Luna tailed them while humming some unknown tune.

The moment they were far enough away from the hall, she gave him an accusing look, "You knew that this was going to happen, that Longbottom was a Parselmouth."

"I was just testing a theory. Now, I know that Longbottom is a Parselmouth." Harry replied.

Her eyes lit up, "You arranged this to happen. Somehow, you made sure that Longbottom would be confronted by a snake," her smile turned into a frown, "he could have died, Harry."

Harry shook his head, "Not with Snape around. The fastest non-magical snake venom takes twenty minutes to be lethal. It's more than enough time for Snape to give him a bezoar since he always carries a few with him. In the unlikely chance he didn't, he could have easily frozen the venom and carried him to the infirmary. There was practically no risk there. Hell, Malfoy's Lacero curse was more fatal."

"So, is Longbottom the heir of Slytherin?" Daphne asked.

"Of course not. He was unconscious in one of the attacks, and while he was the one who found Filch, he's simply not clever enough to pull something like this off. No, I did this to get a good read on Parseltongue and on how it worked, which would be very useful to find the actual heir."

"You're going too far with this, Harry," Daphne interjected, "We agreed that our time together should be about us, not about your manhunt for the heir of Slytherin."

Harry looked down, "I'm sorry."

"You better be. I want some time alone. I'll see you later, Harry," she answered before running off.

The Potter scion suppressed a groan and looked at the smiling Luna, "What are you looking at."

"She'll get over it, just give her some space."

"How do you know that?" Harry replied.

"I can tell she really likes you," the blonde answered, "but she has a point. Your manhunt for Tom has obviously consumed your time so far. You need to destress. You know, when I feel overwhelmed, I take a stroll by the Forbidden Forest and feed the Thestrals. Do you want to join me tonight?"

Thinking for a few seconds, Harry nodded, "You know what? This sounds like a good idea. I'll see you at curfew near the Great Hall."

The Ravenclaw nodded and skipped to the other side of the room while still humming. That girl could be intelligent at times, but damn, sometimes she's just weird.

---

Chapter 98: Of Foolish Plans

18 November 1992, Hogwarts

Neville Longbottom had no idea what had happened. He vividly remembered humiliating Malfoy in their little practice duel after the ponce started to seriously attack him. It was easy. The training he had received in the Summer from a former Auror made his encounters with Malfoy little more than a piece of cake. For some reason, his grandmother gave him a proud look when he suddenly came to her and told her that he wanted to learn how to fight properly. She had arranged for his instructor, and every time the boy who lived wanted to quit, he remembered the infuriating smirk on Potter's face as he played with him and Ron.

He was looking forward to challenging Potter after humiliating Malfoy. Get back at the traitorous godbrother that humiliated him so many times in the previous year. But the traitorous snake decided not to lose graciously, but thankfully Snape killed it. But for some reason, people just kept staring at him with fear and horror on their faces.

He barely even registered his friends pulling him outside the Great Hall for no reason. Maybe they thought that the other Slytherins might attack him for humiliating one of their own.

Ron steered him out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Neville didn't have a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room.

"When the hell were you going to tell us?"

Neville felt even more confusion flood his already clogged brain. What the hell was the redhead on about? Was he talking about the training for some reason? His grandmother had told him not to advertise that he could defend himself, this way any attacker wouldn't be prepared. Ron would have probably asked to attend the sessions as well and the Longbottom Matriarch really didn't like Ron Weasley. She seemed somewhat neutral to the rest of the family, except for Percy whom she disliked by instinct because he wanted to be a politician, and she admitted to him reluctantly that she admired the twins' innovation, even if their work ethic could be better. Anyway, she really hated Ron. She never said anything about it, but she obviously thought that he was dragging her only grandson down.

Reluctantly, the Longbottom scion would admit that Ron wasn't the sort of person you wanted around if your goal was to be productive. The sad thing was that he had a very good tactical mind, he was just not inclined to school, or just hard work in general. But he was brave and loyal to a fault, and Neville appreciated that more than him being some sort of magical savant.

Anyway, Neville realized that his friends were looking at him expectingly and just muttered, "Tell you?"

Yes, tell us!"

"Tell you what, exactly?"

"That you're a bloody Parselmouth!"

Wait… what? Neville wasn't a Parselmouth, that's for sure. His Grandmother had made him memorize over a thousand years of ancestry ever since he was a little boy. None of them is a Parselmouth, "What are you on about? I'm not a Parselmouth. Believe me, if there was one in the family, I would know. Hell, my grandmother would definitely know, and you know that it's a family trait that's passed on by blood."

"Well, it sure looked like you were," Ron exclaimed.

That didn't make any sense. Where would he have even looked like a Parselmouth? Thankfully, Hermione interjected, "The snake, Neville. You commanded it, didn't you?"

Yeah, but he was scared out of his mind and that thing was huge, he just asked the thing to stop out of desperation, "But, I only told it to stop."

"Oh, is that what you said to it?"

"What do you mean? You heard me! I said it in front of the whole hall!" Both of his friends shook their heads.

"Neville," Hermione said after taking a deep, heavy breath, "we didn't hear anything you said. We just heard you speaking Parseltongue. To us, it just sounded like a bunch of incomprehensible hissing."

Neville's mind just froze, "You're not having me on, are you?"

"Of course not. Did you look at everyone's faces in the Great Hall," Ron exclaimed.

How the hell could he have been a parselmouth? How did he even use it without realizing it? Even when he was a child and used accidental magic, Neville knew that he used magic somehow. And the Longbottoms didn't even have a link to Salazar Slytherin in any way. The man was rumoured to be the greatest user of the snake tongue in history. Apparently, he did things with it that just weren't possible, especially considering the primitive magic that nomadic tribes tended to use the tongue for. This skill had turned him into a legend.

Being a descendant of a founder of Hogwarts, even if it was Slytherin, was an honour, one that his ancestors would have bragged about, instead of their druidic origin. It just didn't make any sense.

A small voice at the back of his head told him that one of them could have hidden it. Maybe a descendant of a squib from a half-blood that married into the family. There was a possibility that maybe his family was light aligned just wanted to deny it, one that he accidentally revealed to the world. He needed to send an owl to his grandmother telling her what happened. This could have a large impact on the family's reputation after all.

Neville opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and tried to say anything. No words came out. He looked to Ron imploringly. Ron looked sheepish. "You were speaking it, mate," he said apologetically. "We all heard you, clear as day. We had no idea what you even said to it."

"But… obviously I was telling it to stop!"

His two friends exchanged looks. "Plenty of people thought you were sending it after Malfoy even when he was passed out," Hermione admitted.

Ron continued, "And now everyone thinks that you're the heir of Slytherin, that you're attacking muggleborns."

"But I'm not," Neville protested.

"Of course, you're not attacking anyone, but how are you going to prove that you weren't responsible," Hermione interjected.

"I was knocked out in the infirmary when Dean was attacked, and I was at Nick's Death party with you when Filch was petrified. Isn't that proof enough?"

Dean's attack had seemed like a personal insult at the time. The muggleborn was barely a few rooms away from the infirmary when he was petrified. It was like the heir of Slytherin was taunting him, telling him that he could have gotten him too if he wanted to.

Ron shrugged, "You could have been pretending to sleep in the infirmary, especially since Dean was attacked near you, cursed the bulger to attack you and cleared you as a suspect. And you were the first person to find Filch because of that voice you were following. Relax, Hermione and I believe you, but the rest of the school won't. There probably isn't going to be an official investigation since the petrification isn't permanent no one was really hurt but Mrs. Norris, so Dumbledore is going to protect you. However, the school won't care about that, especially if the attacks continue."

Neville couldn't help but think that this was exactly why he was friends with Ron. That boy was loyal to a fault and there were some rare instances, when he chose to use his head, that showed just how smart he would be if he applied himself.

And he was right on the nose here. There was no concrete evidence other than him being a parselmouth, meaning that the Aurors weren't going to be called. Other than him finding the body the first time, there was nothing linking him to any of the attacks. But there was one thing for certain. He was going to be the school pariah, and that was unacceptable, "I need to clear my name and there's only one way I can do this."

Hermione seemed to grasp where he was going quickly since she paled in fear, "You mean…"

"Yes, we need to catch the heir of Slytherin. We were already going to interrogate Malfoy and Potter using Polyjuice. So, we're already halfway there," Neville continued.

She hesitated for a moment, "Yeah, but we were only going to ask them what they knew. We don't know if they were the heir, really, only that they knew something, Malfoy because of his father, and Harry because of just how smart he was."

Ron groaned, "Come on, Hermione, you can't just keep hanging on to that guy. He's a Slytherin which means he's bad news. I know that you used to be friends, but he was probably using you to spy on other Gryffindors or just to help him with his homework."

The muggleborn shook her head, "He never really asked me anything about my house, and he didn't need help with homework. We just talked about magic and certain useful spells. But trust me, I know Harry, he's not the kind to do these attacks, but he's exactly the kind of guy who would put pieces together that no one has before. It's the only reason I agreed to the Polyjuice, and that was only because I knew he wouldn't say anything if we asked him directly. We haven't talked in a long time. I don't want you to get any illusion that it's a sting operation of some sort. If he confesses, then I'll help you take him down, but other than that, he's not a suspect."

"I know you weren't looking at him when Neville started talking in Parseltongue, but I did. He had this smug little smile on his face like he knew that Neville was a Parseltongue and that confirmed it," Ron exclaimed.

Wait, Potter knew what? How is that possible? How could Potter know something about him that no one else realized before? He needed to know more, "You have to admit Hermione, that it's pretty suspicious."

The muggleborn's resolve looked like it was wavering, so Neville pressed slightly, "Look, we'll try to find out what he knows. If he's innocent, we'll leave him be. If he is the heir of Slytherin, it's our duty to expose him. How long until the Polyjuice is done cooking?"

"Ten days," the muggleborn commented, "we can start getting pieces of hair of who we're going to replace, as well as a way to discreetly make sure that they won't show up."

Neville nodded, "Good. Also, Ron, I want you to ask Fred and George to follow Potter and Malfoy closely. They're our main suspects and we need to know their comings and goings. They could lead us to the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and we could catch them in the act."

The redhead agreed, "I'll tell them as soon as I see them."

"Now, we have another lead," Neville continued, "Dobby accidentally let out that the Chamber of Secrets was opened before. That means that the three of us will need to research in the library about it. Similar attacks had to have been there before. If whoever had done it was caught, then a family member or a descendant could be doing it now."

Ron groaned, "I thought we were done with researching stuff after the mess with Flamel last year. It took months just to find who he was. Can we ask for more help instead?"

"Let's just keep it between us," Neville replied while shaking his head, "we don't want to tip the heir off that we're looking into past attacks. If they knew about them, they could easily find the books we were looking for and hide them just to throw us off their trail. We need to be discreet, and we need to be smart about this."

Yeah, Neville Longbottom was going to catch the Heir of Slytherin and clear his name. But until then, he knew that his time in Hogwarts was going to be rough. He only hoped he could hold on until his status was back as the saviour of the magical world once more.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 99: Of Fantastic Beasts

18 November 1992, Hogwarts

That night, Harry waited until curfew and snuck out of the common room using his invisibility cloak. He was strangely excited for what was essentially a walk in a forest with his new friend. To be perfectly honest, he could see why Tom was so taken with the young Ravenclaw.

Harry had spent less than a handful of hours with Luna and he had to admit that she was unique. She just saw the world differently, something that made sense since she was a clairvoyant. In general, clairvoyance is a magical skill that allows someone to perceive the world differently, to see beyond what can be perceived with the naked eye. In a way, Harry's Arcane Hearing might be a form of clairvoyance since he could perceive magic in a way others just don't, but the general definition involves a more conceptual nature of the skill. Luna, for example, can just discern the true nature of something. Whether someone is good or bad, kind or mean, hateful or loving. She could see if someone was hexed or was under some kind of compulsion, and probably so much more. The girl tried to stay away from her gift as much as possible and Harry had the impression that she was strangely resentful towards it.

Anyway, Harry knew that it was this skill that made Luna confide in him so easily. He was honestly tempted to ask her how she perceived him, but she must have known in some way that he meant her no harm.

Yet, the young Ravenclaw was just so kind despite her gift. In a way, Harry could understand how it was possible, but in another, it was baffling. The truth was that people were complex, and Luna could probably see that. Everyone, especially children, had a kindness to them, an innocence, that Luna probably couldn't see in older men and women, one that made Luna forgive their obvious spiteful attempts at putting her down and bullying her.

That kind of kindness, that kind of forgiveness was just something that Harry couldn't understand. Luna had suffered, yet she just ignored her pain and moved on to her carefree life. She wasn't putting on a mask or hiding her suffering, she just forgave them and didn't care, and that was unnatural, that was inhuman. A human being is not supposed to act like that. Even good people simply repressed the urge to have some kind of vengeance, something that would have been quite easy for Luna to pull off, but she just let go.

No wonder Tom Riddle was fascinated with her. He had suffered at the hands of other children, yet he always got back at his attackers. Yet, through pure understanding, Luna Lovegood had shown him that there was another way, a better way. She had shown Harry this, but honestly, with all his maturity, he didn't think he would be able to shrug off slights like she did.

Before he could realize it, Harry found himself at the entrance to the Great Hall and saw Luna waiting for him while humming. Security was pretty lax now that Filch wasn't there to scare the crap out of the younger years. Prefect patrols had increased, apparently, but they didn't intimidate the younger students as Filch did. The Potter scion honestly thought that Dumbledore hired the squib just for the 'crazy old man' aura that he projected, that children would instinctively fear, even though the average second-year student was technically more dangerous than him.

He took off his cloak and revealed himself, "Hello Luna."

The girl twirled around and smiled at him, "Hello, Harry Potter. It seems that we chose a good night for our stroll. There's magic in the air."

Harry simply shrugged, having started to be used to her weirdness, "Sure, shall we?"

The girl didn't answer him and just started skipping away. They simply walked in silence, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridors. The dim glow of moonlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows that danced along the cold stone walls.

Minutes later, they had left the castle and made their way towards the forest. They walked past the Black Lake, its dark waters reflecting the silver glow of the stars above. Harry watched Luna's graceful movements, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. The familiar sound of her humming echoed through the night, harmonizing with the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hooting of an owl. Luna's ethereal presence seemed to blend seamlessly with the enchanted atmosphere of the forbidden forest as if she were a part of it.

They reached the edge of the forest, its boundary marked by ancient, towering trees that loomed like silent sentinels. Moonbeams filtered through the dense foliage, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor.

The magic of the forest was as oppressive as ever. Harry's Arcane Hearing was all over the place. There was this large magical enchantment that was around the entire forest, that was playful and protective, but with a weird sinister tint, yet there were so many creatures inside, that it had another layer that just sounded like noise more than anything. There were the cold-blooded predators, the soft magical plants, the severity and discipline that probably belonged to the centaurs. In all truth, it was magnificent in some kind of organized chaotic paradox that just fascinated him. It was an entire magical ecosystem, and it was as complex as it sounded.

They arrived at a clearing, where Luna just stopped suddenly, and stood still, "I always like to stay here. It's just on the edge of centaur territory, so the really dangerous creatures tend to stay away, and sometimes I get a few visitors, who I just like to talk to. I find Thestrals to be wonderful listeners. Here they come."

Yeah, Harry could sense them too. They felt like fleeting shadows, that were somehow skittish, their dark forms blending seamlessly with the surrounding darkness. Luna approached them with serene confidence, her pale blue eyes filled with a gentle understanding. The creatures, shrouded in an aura of mystery, seemed to recognize her, responding to her silent call.

Luna started stroking one of the smaller Thestrals and then proceeded to take a few slabs of meat from her bag and feed it to them. She giggled as the skeletal winged horses licked her hand after finishing the food.

Harry was smiling for some reason. He was feeling content. He hadn't felt that way in years and wasn't that a bizarre revelation? After a few minutes, he chose to break their comfortable silence, "You can see them."

"Yes," the girl answered with an airy voice, "It was my mother. She was a spell crafter, you see. She did something wrong and it backfired. She was like me and had this gift, but it wasn't as strong for her. I guess I considered it a curse in some way. It wasn't nice, feeling her soul leave her body, seeing the sheer terror of death that she felt when it happened. I didn't want to let go of her, and I guess I went too far. Ever since then, I could see the creatures my mother made up for me for my bedtime. She told me stories about Wrackspurts whenever I was scared, and she told me I could chase them away with positive thoughts, and other silly things. I guess I wanted a piece of her to stay with me, and my gift agreed. Now, every time I see someone, I see a part of my mother. What about you? You can see them too, right?"

Oh, that sounded like she was traumatized by her mother's death, and she tried to peer too much using her gift. Her clairvoyance must be extremely powerful if she was able to go this far. Maybe it was just the fact that she saw and felt her mother's death that made her repress her gifts in a way that only expressed itself in the form of creatures. Honestly, Harry wasn't going to judge her. A traumatized child didn't need more on her plate from the sound of it.

Instead, the Potter scion replied, "I guess you can say that Death is an old friend. I have to ask though; I know that the other students give you a hard time and you just let things slide. Why are you so angry at Tom for doing what he did? What makes him different?"

"I couldn't see Tom with my clairvoyance. I just thought it was like a portrait in diary form. It was the first time I really trusted someone in a very long time. After my mother died, I wasn't well. My father pushed himself in his newspaper trying to drown his sorrows with more work, and I had lost most of my friends. It was why Ron called me Loony, at the time. I could see people's true nature and it made things so easy. Tom was different, he was a friend. I couldn't see him, but I chose to trust him. I hadn't done that before, and he betrayed me. This is why I am so angry at him. He used me to hurt others. He possessed me, petrified two people and killed a cat. I just can't let something like that go. People are mean because they want to feel superior, or they're scared, or they're angry. I can see it with my own two eyes, but what Tom did… It was unforgivable."

Harry nodded, "I guess I can understand that. You're right about a lot of things. I was neglecting my friend. I was so focused on dealing with Tom, about stopping the monster that I just forgot about them, I guess. I'm not proud of it, but it's the truth. You're a wise young woman, Luna Lovegood."

He wasn't lying. With the time he was able to buy with Riddle's recent release, the pressure to destroy the diary was gone. Sure, he was still going to train and make plans like normal, but he wouldn't act like a madman in a rush. He would still take breaks and just hang out with his friends again. Sure, it would have been better to find and destroy the diary, but Riddle was unpowered and considering that Lockhart looked like an idiot amateur during his duel with Snape, he stopped having control over his network.

The girl hummed, "Of course I am. I'm in Ravenclaw after all."

Harry simply watched as Luna kept feeding and stroking the Thestrals. It was a peaceful scene, and considering how hectic his life has been recently, he could use some of this peace. Of course, that was when Harry felt something with a big signature come closer. He could feel his magical crest stinging slightly.

Luna also seemed to notice that something was coming. The large intruder happened to be the familiar sight of a certain three-headed dog. The Cerberus seemed overjoyed to meet Harry for some reason. The strange familiarity between them was still there for Harry's arcane hearing to pick up. This feeling of soul was still there.

The giant dog playfully started to lick the Potter scion, covering him in drool, "Yeah, yeah. I'm happy to see you too, Fluffy. I didn't know you lived in the forest, although that did make sense. I missed you bud. It must be nice to stay here in the forest after an entire year cramped in a room."

The dog whined and Harry kept stroking him. When he turned towards Luna. He found her openly gaping at him. It was a comical sight, especially considering how composed she usually was. Harry could guess that to a clairvoyant, there wasn't much that she would consider surprising. And yet, the young Ravenclaw was openly showing surprise.

Harry simply shrugged at her, "What's wrong."

"Merlin's beard. I thought my mother made them up. I didn't think they were real," the blonde kept murmuring.

Harry quirked his eyebrow, "What are you on about? Cerberi are documented in countless books and studies."

"No, you don't understand. This isn't a magical creature at all. This is a Phantasmal Beast."

---

Chapter 100: Closer Ties

3 December 1992, Hogwarts

It has been a few days since he went on that trip to the forbidden forest with Luna, and well, it started becoming a regular thing. Harry didn't know how to explain it, but there was just this connection between him and Fluffy, and it was oddly relaxing just lying around with the beast's presence. His unusual nature was already an interesting thing, but Luna was surprisingly very knowledgeable about the subject. Of course, it took a little while for her to freak out before she actually started explaining it. Apparently, the existence of Phantasmal Beasts was a thing of legend. According to her, it was on par with the Crumpled Horned Snorkack, in terms of discoveries.

Since proper research on magical beasts is something of a recent thing, numerous rare and elusive creatures were not really properly researched. Apparently, according to a few ancient texts, a few magical creatures just are fundamentally different. They are more than beings of flesh and blood and are creatures of magic and energy.

Legends say that before Atlantis was sunk, in the age before man, the rumoured age of Gods, magical creatures as large as cities roamed the world. They were unbeatable beings of pure energy and magic. And sometimes they were even worshipped as gods. In many ways, that was precisely what they were. They were beings of incredible power and lifespans that could get up to thousands of years.

When they mysteriously disappeared, wizards and witches started to emulate these creatures and experimented by using Alchemy to create beasts to serve them. They were not nearly as intelligent or as powerful as the divine beasts, and they were creatures of flesh and blood and thus could be easily harmed or killed. Modern Dragons couldn't compare to Luna's tales of elder dragons, who were symbols of power personified more than anything.

However, these magical creatures could sometimes ascend when they become beings of legends. They are then called Phantasmal creatures. It could happen to a particular creature or an entire species, or maybe even a part of a species. According to the young Ravenclaw, things like Pegasi, Nemean Lions, or Hydras were rumoured to be Phantasmal creatures. However, as none of these creatures allowed wizards and witches to run experiments on them, and they are powerful enough to go through entire teams of war mages, it's hard to confirm such theories.

Funnily enough, the entire thing started interesting magizoologists when they started to study unicorns and found that they were fundamentally different from any other magical creatures. They couldn't do much without risking getting cursed, and a unicorn never dies of natural causes, at least as far as they could tell. It was theorized that they were beings of partial energy, however, all the researchers could do was study their behaviour and make theories since for some reason the creatures were simply immune to magic.

Research on Cerberus was never properly conducted either. They were too rare for large-scale studies and their magical negation properties were far more powerful than unicorns. Luna, probably using her clairvoyance, was able to divine the true nature of Fluffy and was stupefied by it. When Harry suggested that unicorns could also be Phantasmal creatures, the young Ravenclaw started organizing a search for them, but they couldn't find any for her to observe anymore. It was slightly unnerving to be completely honest.

Still, every couple of days, he and Luna would go to their clearing, pet the Thestrals, and play with Fluffy slightly. The three-headed dog was very obedient to Harry for some reason, and he couldn't deny that his crest thrummed slightly at the beast's presence. Although, when they took Hedwig with them, the snowy owl kept glaring at the overly friendly hound. She was probably jealous, so Harry made sure to give her extra bacon and spend more time. It seemed to work since she was a lot calmer later.

Anyway, other than accidentally confirming one of the most researched topics in Magizoology, Harry spent his time just hanging out with his friends, although, it was mostly with Daphne, who had asked him to teach her how to duel out of nowhere. They spent hours every day together, just the two of them, duelling slightly. Harry had to admit that the blonde was very talented in the field and had a vicious side to her that he didn't see often.

Which brings him to their current situation. They were in an empty large classroom, sparring. Harry ducked to dodge a cutting hex and shielded against the punching hex that followed. He smiled slightly as the girl huffed in exasperation as her tutor easily countered her spell chain.

She then sent a new spell, her hand glowing slightly where her family crest resided, "Ligamen Plantae!"

Giant roots appeared from the ground and tried to bind Harry. However, the Potter scion simply waved his wand and yelled back, "Impedimenta! Radix Evanescet!"

The first spell simply slowed down the roots massively, and the second one vanished them into ash. It was a modified vanishing charm that Harry made on the spot that only vanished plants in a wide area. It was faster than doing it individually but far more energy-consuming. Honestly, it wasn't exactly fair, since Harry was, for lack of a better term, a savant when it came to magic. He could easily modify spells on the fly and technically this wouldn't be authorized. Well, it would be if it was done silently as official duels normally are since it was technically a vanishing charm and not an entirely new spell altogether. Alas, the Greengrass scion had used one of her family spells, which was definitely illegal.

Well, the spell wasn't exactly one cast using the crest. She was going to fully unlock it on her birthday, which was in a few months, but her father had given her a list of spells to warm it up, in a way. They weren't powerful, and Daphne did need to learn how to cast them, but she was naturally gifted when it came to using them.

Still, obscure spells rarely surprised Harry altogether. To his Arcane Hearing, spells were painfully obvious. While enchantments and wards felt more like songs in the background, spells felt more like bullets filled to the brim with magic and intent. The purpose of a spell was usually clear a fraction of a second after it was fired, as such, Harry was able to easily figure out the goal of Daphne's spell.

The Potter scion grinned, "You're doing very well, Daphne. It's a big improvement in such a small amount of time but remember to not use any family spells since it's illegal in tournaments and you would be disqualified."

Instead of answering back, she snarled at him, "Flipendo! Expelliarmus! Glacius!"

Harry simply waved his arm, "Don't let your emotions cloud your judgement and definitely don't let your enemy lead your actions. Protego! Incendio!"

The shield deflected the Flipendo spell towards the disarming charm, and the fire-making charm countered the Glacius spell, turning it into a battle of wills. The freezing charm and fire-making charm are complete opposites. They weren't really elemental spells since they were just spells that caused an object to burn or freeze. They did not manipulate an element in a way. And since these spells are arithmetically opposite, it is possible to turn it into a battle of wills of sorts.

Of course, Harry could easily win such a context with Daphne, but what he didn't need to. Daphne's own disarming charm went back at her and sent her wand flying back.

Harry grinned once more, "And be mindful of your surroundings, especially the spells that you cast."

The blonde grumbled, "I still didn't land a hit on you…"

"Daph, landing a hit in a duel means that you've won the exchange unless it's mitigated somehow. And not to sound arrogant, but I'm a little better than the average second-year when it comes to magic. Believe me, you're far ahead of the curve."

The Greengrass scion didn't seem to believe him and so, he continued, "Look, your progress is phenomenal and even Professor Flitwick thinks so. You know how hard he is when it comes to duelling. You just need to learn a style that suits you and after a bit of practice, you'll be golden."

"A style?" the blonde asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Oh, right. We haven't really covered this yet since we're still doing the basics with Flitwick," Harry answered, "it's more like a way you play, the tactics that you employ. Certain duelers prefer to stick to small and quick spells instead of large ones. Others deploy modified shields and use them as attacking spells which can defend at once. Some favour changing their surroundings using transfiguration, and some just rely on conjuration. And even then, how you use this kind of magic can affect your style massively. What I mean by that is that whether you like to rely on counterattacks or be aggressive with your magic. You could even just dodge quickly and wait until your opponents get tired, although I wouldn't really recommend this fighting method. It's all up to you."

"And what style are you using," Daphne asked.

"Well, I rely mostly on counterattacks, like the one I used on you. My shield charms repelled a spell towards another, and I used a battle of wills to lock you into place so that you get hit with your own disarming charm. But if I had to suggest a style for you, it would be one involving your speed. Your casting is very quick, and your spell chains are very impressive."

The girl blushed and mumbled, "Thank you."

On their way back to their common room, Harry spoke up, "Now, I have to ask. Why do you always resort to your family spells whenever you're emotional?"

The girl fidgeted slightly, "I just panic and it's always there in the back of my mind. Ever since I learnt them, I haven't really needed to think about using them. It's very hard to explain. I just cast them by instinct, like I was holding up my arm and protecting my face. My father was very strict with me in the Summer and decided to teach me a few basics, and they just feel natural, I guess. I know it's unusual since we usually have to wait until we're thirteen, but apparently, it's a tradition to master a handful of spells before we have access to the full thing in our next maturity. I don't think the other crests work like that since Mum looked confused as well when Dad took me on a training trip. I guess I'll see when Astoria unlocks my mother's crest. But anyway, there's this whole pressure on me to master these spells so I try to use them as much as possible."

While this was interesting, it wasn't any of Harry's business. Family crests were family matters, after all. Even telling him this much about it was a sign of trust on the part of Daphne. Luna was right, in a way, that he was slowly drifting away from his friends during the whole search for the diary. When he slowed down and made some time for them, he remembered how much he missed just spending time with them. They were now closer than ever, even if he was far closer to Daphne than to Blaise and Tracy.

Anyway, the Potter scion walked his friends to the entrance of the girl's dormitory and prepared to go shower. He was planning on finishing his anti-basilisk glare goggles soon since he made a lot of progress in the last few weeks.

Oddly enough, he was held up by Crabbe and Goyle of all people. It was disconcerting to see them away from Malfoy, and even then, behind them was Millicent Bulstrode. The girl was normally very uncomfortable around the two boys since they were very prone to violence. That wariness wasn't there before.

She quickly blurted out to him, "Harry, I wanted to ask you a few questions."

Huh, she called him Harry. It was common courtesy to call people by their family names. Sure, sometimes Harry ignored it, but Millicent always followed the unspoken rules of Slytherin. Her posture was also wrong, she was nervous but did not have the inherent pride a scion of an old family had.

Crabbe and Goyle were also too different. Other than their posture, they looked inquisitive, and well, they never really looked like it. They were easily distracted, easy to anger, and prone to violence, but the truth was that they were slow. Yet, there was a spark of intelligence that he had never seen before in their eyes.

The conclusion was simple, these weren't his housemates. These were impostors. The question remaining is how he should handle it. This could go wrong very quickly.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 101: Impostor Syndrome

3 December 1992, Hogwarts

Before making a scene, it was better to be absolutely sure, "Sure, Milly. How are you doing with that spell I taught you? Are you still having problems with it?"

Well, Harry knew for a fact that Millicent hated the nickname Milly since Pansy always kept calling her Silly Milly whenever she messed up something. And well, she and Harry barely interacted with one another, and since she started joining Malfoy's group, she would have been in deep trouble if he heard that Harry was teaching her anything, really.

So, when she didn't grit her teeth and didn't deny her being with Harry, in front of the people who were essentially Malfoy's enforcers, Harry knew immediately that she was an imposter and so were Crabbe and Goyle.

She nodded, "Yeah, I think I'm getting it, but I really need to ask you a few questions."

The Potter scion repressed the urge to roll his eyes at her pathetic attempt at changing the subject. Hermione really wasn't cut out for the whole deception thing, was she?

Harry really should just expose them, and he definitely would. But doing so would earn him the enmity of the Golden Trio. They barely even spoke to Harry this year, and he wanted to keep it that way. So, why involve himself when he could pin it on someone that they already hate, like Malfoy, who was glaring at the trio, probably thinking that they were betraying him or something? He might as well also lead them on a bit, especially since they were doing this because they're probably thinking that Harry is the heir of Slytherin or something similarly absurd.

So, instead of yelling out that there were intruders in the house, he smiled at them, "I'm always available to help my housemates. What do you need help with?"

Crabbe was the one who asked that time, "The Chamber of Secrets."

Well, that was easy, "Yeah, Slytherin's infamous chamber. It's a shame people are using it to spread fear the way they did. I'm not sure, of course, but my guess it would be the fact that Slytherin tricked the other founders and hid his magic in the chamber to do it."

This was honestly the theory Harry had come up with, and he didn't mind sharing it."

"Wait, what? I thought he made it to house the beast that killed muggleborns. I mean, Mudbloods, sorry," Goyle exclaimed.

"Goyle, did you forget? You can't say that word in here. It's against the rules. Malfoy might get away with it because of his father's influence, but I don't think you can do it. Even then, he's been reprimanded a lot of time in private and the prefects have even contacted his mother."

Yeah, the way their eyes widened amused the Potter scion but instead of answering the questions and revealing house secrets, he continued, "As for your question, the whole blood purity thing started appearing after the Statute of Secrecy was put in place as a way to preserve nobility in a world that was full of wizards. Before then, there were only nobles and peasants, whether they were magical or not. Slytherin wanted to ban peasants from entering the school. I can see his point to be honest."

Millicent looked aghast, "What? How could you say that?"

Damn, Hermione really wasn't subtle, "Well, it's not about them being lesser, it's about them being uneducated. A thousand years ago, peasants didn't know how to read, how to write, how to behave. They were farmers, and workers, that only thought about how to survive the following winter. Just bringing them up to speed to learn any magic was too time-consuming and Slytherin wanted to bar them from entry. However, the other founders refused since that meant that any sign of accidental magic started a witch hunt at the time, and a lot of muggleborns burned to death back then. So, instead, they came to a compromise, to have a basic exam before starting a magical education, which is available for everyone, but if they failed it, they would have to attend basic classes before they could start learning. If they failed these, they were expelled. No one was happy about it, but it was the only compromise that they could reach."

"I never read that in any books," Millicent replied.

Harry grinned, "Because you're probably reading in the public history section. If you take a look at the research books in the back, especially the ones from before the statute of secrecy, you will see it. For some reason, people have made it very hard to find out about the founders."

Seeing Millicent wanting to argue back, Crabbe interjected, "And the Chamber?"

"Oh, right. I got a bit overwhelmed. It's a bit of a theory of mine, but I think that Slytherin tricked the other founders. The main selling point of Hogwarts was the library. The four founders sacrificed their family spells and their research to build the foundation of the libraries. The founders shed their family names and created the fake ones that we know. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, these aren't real names, and the real ones were scrubbed from all texts, probably with a spell of some sort. And since nobles greedily wanted the knowledge, they enrolled their heirs, which is how Hogwarts started. What I think happened is that Slytherin only shared a portion of his family legacy and hid the rest in the chamber for his heir to access. He essentially swindled the other founders of their family legacy for a fraction of his own. It does fit his character. The whole monster thing could just be some kind of protection for anything attacking the castle, but not the students. Definitely not the students."

Goyle was gritting his teeth, probably insulting Salazar Slytherin under his breath. So, that must be Weasley then, "So, the monster. What do you know about it?"

"Well, everything, really. It's pretty obvious when you know where to look."

"You got that from just two attacks?" Millicent interjected.

"No, you only have to look back on the events where the chamber was opened the last time, around fifty years ago."

"What?" the three impersonators exclaimed.

"Well, yeah. People don't want it to be spread, but around fifty years ago, the chamber was opened. Over a dozen muggleborns were petrified, but the attacks stopped when one died, and the school almost closed. They put the entire thing on a troublesome student and expelled him, even if the beast he had didn't match the pattern. I think it was an Acromantula or something. They should have been expelled anyway, but they just put it all on him so that the school wouldn't close. And since the attacks stopped, they all put it out of its mind. But since that information is documented, it's easy to find a clear pattern, and adding in the current clues, the nature of the beast is easy to figure out."

"So, what is it?" Crabbe asked excitedly.

"Well, that would be telling. Honestly, I was hesitant until Longbottom started to speak in Parseltongue."

"You think he's the heir of Slytherin?" Millicent asked.

"Merlin, no!" Harry responded, "Whoever is doing it is smart enough to evade me. Longbottom doesn't have a subtle bone in his body."

"Then do you think that he's a descendant of Slytherin or something?" Crabbe asked.

"Probably not. The only reason I jumped immediately at him being a Parselmouth was because the Dark Lord was a Parselmouth. Not much is known about how Longbottom escaped the killing curse and while there are many theories, a lot of wild and raw magic was expelled that night, at least according to the Unspeakable report that was leaked to the public. It is possible that somehow the Dark Lord's magic made an imprint of sorts with Longbottom, giving him the ability to speak Parseltongue. It's far more likely than him having a magical ancestry that was hidden for centuries, while it could have been providing a lot of prestige for the family. You have to remember that before Voldemort, Parseltongue was mostly known for its rumoured healing abilities, not the weapon of terror that the Dark Lord used to his advantage."

"Yeah, but does the fact that Longbottom can speak Parseltongue mean anything when it comes to the Chamber of Secrets?" Millicent asked.

Harry shrugged, "Of course, it does, the fact that Longbottom is speaking Parseltongue correlates with the fact that I heard a few paintings say that he was following a voice to Filch's body, one that no one else could hear. Slytherin was a proud and poetic being, he would only have some kind of snake as his ultimate weapon. So, I theorized that Longbottom was a parselmouth. So, that narrowed the list of beasts into reptiles that are extremely long-lived. Looking at how the petrified bodies looked, the behavioural pattern of spiders recently, and a lot of little things, finding the beast's nature is elementary. Of course, Slytherin could have just created an entire creature just to become his ultimate weapon, but the clues are too much."

"So, what is it?" Goyle asked with an annoyed voice.

"Now, that would be me stopping you from the sense of accomplishment of finding it yourselves. Consider it a test of sorts," Harry answered with an infuriating smile on his face.

They were all obviously angry at Harry's dismissal, so he continued, "I have to admit that I can see why Dumbledore is keeping this quiet. I can see the school closing down, and him being fired if it was revealed to the public, especially since he knew about it for decades and did nothing to stop it. I can't say I would be disappointed, he's objectively the worst headmaster this school has ever had."

"You're wrong!" Crabbe exclaimed.

Damn, those kids were too easy. The Potter scion simply shrugged, "Political agenda aside, Dumbledore took out the most books from the library. Ever since his appointment, over five magical courses, were removed, over a dozen clubs were cancelled, and magical research became at an all-time low. Hogwarts graduates literally need retraining whenever they get into any kind of technical apprenticeship and a few guilds literally just reject applicants from the school automatically since our curriculum is too limited. He also has two other full-time positions on top of being headmaster, so that takes up a lot of his time."

The three imposters looked at each other hesitantly, "But he's the most powerful wizard in the world."

"I don't care about who he is. I care about the school and my education. In the unlikely event, that he doesn't know what the beast is, then people would have severely overestimated his intelligence and extensive magical knowledge, but, well, that's absurd. Because if a student with less than two years of magical education can find out what it is, then he should know. So, that means that he has to know. I can only hope that he actually starts taking action against the heir, because if the monster is what I think it is, then we could all die with a single attack. The only reason this hasn't made national news is because it's just normal petrification, which can be easily remedied with a Mandrake Draught. If it was a curse or something unknown, the ministry would have been all over this."

Crabbe leaned it, "So, do you have an idea who is responsible for all of this?"

"The question is not who," Harry said, "The question is how… The key to this mystery lies in the past. To know who is responsible for the attacks today, you need to find out who was responsible the last time the chamber was opened, fifty years ago."

Crabbe's eyes widened when Harry essentially quoted Dumbledore from the stories. Longbottom must have heard it as Harry's counterpart did in the books. Deciding to excuse himself, the Potter scion spoke up, "Well, I'm kinda sweaty and need a shower. I spent two hours sparring with Daphne, you see. It's nice to see you, Milly, Greg, and Vince. Don't hesitate to come back if you have any other questions."

Well, that was fun, but everything must come to an end. He had to say that his little mission was somewhat successful. He had diverted the trio's attention with a lecture that they didn't need about the founders, taught them a lesson about the fact that Slytherin wasn't some racist asshole, and shook their faith in Dumbledore's leadership since he knew what the beast was for decades, and didn't do anything about it.

But that wasn't the cherry on top. What was the fact that the moment the three impostors turned to speak with Malfoy, Harry sneakily cast a modified revealing charm that would only work after he activated it manually? It was easy to use arithmancy to incorporate a feature like that was extracted in many curses.

This was going to cause trouble for Dumbledore immensely. There are wards around all the common rooms. Only someone sorted in Slytherin could enter the Slytherin common room. They would need to ask permission from the Head of House or the headmaster otherwise. Dumbledore must have disabled the wards or given them access without anyone knowing, and the heads of houses were going to ask him a lot of questions about it.

Harry, then, pretended to walk up the stairs and put on his cloak of invisibility to watch the fallout and waited until they looked like they were going to leave and activated the curse. A few seconds later, while the three Gryffindors were talking to Malfoy, their features immediately reverted back to normal.

The common room stood silent before it exploded into noise. In a fraction of a second, the golden trio were unconscious on the ground and Professor Snape was called by one of the prefects.

Well, that was fun.

---

Chapter 102: Golden Trouble

3 December 1992, Hogwarts

Neville still didn't know how things could get so wrong. As he looked at the snarling face of Snape, he knew that he was screwed. Snape has always been spiteful when it came to him, but this was different, this was more. It was like the boy who lived had crossed a line of sorts, and now he was out for blood.

What happened?

The potion should have lasted at least an hour, and Neville had timed it. They were inside the Slytherin common room for less than thirty minutes, and it took them ten minutes to sneak it in the first place. So, did Hermione somehow screw with the potion? It was a NEWT-level potion after all, and the muggleborn was a second year, all things considered.

No, according to Hermione, it was exactly like it was supposed to be, and they had transformed perfectly into their targets. So, why did it stop working all of a sudden?

They had already gotten valuable information by tricking Potter. Hermione was right, that guy was a chump whenever it came to explaining things. It was a wonder how the guy ended up in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw. That guy must have read more books than Hermione, especially considering how he kept showing her up whenever it came to knowledge.

Neville already knew that the muggleborn was going to run to the library next to confirm what he had said about the founders, as well as trying to overcome the unspoken challenge of finding what the monster of Slytherin was.

What really interested Neville was the fact that he somehow already figured out that he was a Parselmouth before he himself knew. It was obvious, now that he thought about it, but it did confirm that Hermione wasn't exaggerating when it came to Potter's intelligence.

To be completely honest, Neville didn't know how to feel about his godbrother. He just seemed so beyond him, so far away from him in terms of both personality and magic. It irritated him at first, but now, it was just intimidating to just speak with him. It felt less like asking Hermione for some help, and more like asking Dumbledore of all people. The Longbottom scion really wanted to connect with him, but he was so out of reach, that Neville was scared to make the first move.

Of course, Ron just hated the guy on principle. He was a Slytherin, thus he was a slimy snake that couldn't be trusted. That guy really had his priorities backwards, if he had any priorities other than Quidditch, chess, and fighting Malfoy. But Malfoy didn't count; he was a prick, and it was surprising how little he was regarded in his own house.

Neville's grandmother had drilled him countless times about being observant in political situations, and well, the Slytherin common room reminded him a lot about these lessons. What was interesting was the fact that Malfoy was shunned in Slytherin. It wasn't something he expected at all. The Malfoys always looked untouchable from the outside, but it seemed like the house was as annoyed as the rest of the school was when it came to the blonde ponce. You could see it in the way they all huddled away from him whenever he sat down. Malfoy probably thought it was some kind of sign of respect, but Neville knew. His housemates did the same to him, ever since he was revealed to be a Parselmouth.

Also, the fact that Malfoy was reprimanded for saying the word Mudblood and supporting the heir of Slytherin, and they had even contacted his mother. Now, that was worth the trip on its own. And the information they had gotten was practically a gold mine. They now knew that the chamber of secrets was opened before, around fifty years back to be more specific and that the petrifications happened as well, but it ended when a student died, and, according to Potter, someone was framed for it.

The real heir must be the descendant of whoever had opened the chamber fifty years ago. If they knew who was responsible in the past, they could track down their descendants and figure out who had done it as well. The conversation with Malfoy, on the other hand, was pretty lacklustre. All they had learned was that Lucius Malfoy had told him to let the heir be and that the Malfoy hid most of their dark artefacts in a secret room under the drawing room floor, which was why the Auror raids never found anything. Ron looked excited to owl that little fact to his father.

Unfortunately, they were all preoccupied with the whole disguise falling apart and them being attacked thing. Yeah, that wasn't fun.

In mere minutes, Snape was called into the room, with his billowing cloak behind him, and Neville found himself in the potion master's office with his best friends. Ron looked as pale as a ghost, and Hermione looked like she was having a nervous breakdown.

"Professor," Neville started.

He was immediately interrupted by the Slytherin Head of House, "Mr Longbottom, I have literally found you trespassing into a common room that isn't your own, in stolen Slytherin robes, having drunk an illegal potion, that could have easily poisoned you with the slightest mistake, a potion that you brewed with ingredients that I recognize to be missing from my stores. There is nothing that you could say would not make it worse. So, as your professor, I am advising you to stay quiet and not say anything that will probably end up hurting you in the long run. Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here. I do not want to hear your voice at any moment before my return."

Normally, Snape would be smiling at getting them in trouble, but he just looked angry. Seeing how the professor was behaving, Neville decided to do the smart thing and just shut up. The man left, and the boy who lived just felt sick. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict. She was going to kill them, he knew it.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough, it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him. Neville had seen Professor McGonagall angry on several occasions, but either he had forgotten just how thin her mouth could go, or he had never seen her this angry before. She raised her wand the moment she entered; Neville, Ron, and Hermione all flinched, but she merely pointed it at the empty fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted. Neville hadn't realized how cold he was until the warmth of the fire started to spread.

"Sit," she said, and they both backed into chairs by the fire.

"Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously.

Ron started to speak but Neville immediately stopped him. Ron's mouth was probably going to get them further in trouble, "Well, professor, it's a bit of a long story. You know how I'm a Parselmouth?"

The woman nodded and he continued, "Well, people haven't really been nice to me ever since that happened."

"What they stopped worshipping you like some sort of messiah," Snape answered with a sneer.

"No," Neville denied, "they just look at me like I'm the one who petrified my own roommate. So, I decided that finding out who the heir of Slytherin really was would clear my name. And where better to look first than the Slytherin common room? We used Polyjuice to sneak inside while Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent were in detention, and we started interrogating people sneakily."

"You thought that whoever was responsible would just confess in the middle of the common room?" McGonagall asked with an incredulous tone.

"Well, maybe. We thought that they, at least, might know a little more about it. So, what would be the harm?"

"You're asking what would be the harm in impersonating your year mates, and breaking into a place they're supposed to feel safe in?" Snape asked.

"Well, we thought that no one would really be affected. It was only supposed to last for one hour, but for some reason, it stopped working at least twenty minutes early."

Snape looked startled for a second, "You brewed the potion?"

"Yes. Well, Hermione did…" Neville looked at his friend who was practically trembling.

"So, let me get this straight. You stole ingredients from my personal stores, used them to brew a potion that was above your capability, incorrectly from the sound of it, and snuck into the Slytherin common room because you hoped that the heir of Slytherin who has been attacking muggleborns would confess their crimes to you because you asked for it. And the potion ended up malfunctioning, causing everyone to panic and attack you at once."

Hermione interjected, "Hey, I didn't incorrectly brew the potion!"

The glare McGonagall sent her made her defiant look wither in a fraction of a second, "I'm telling you this for your best interest. Don't confess to brewing an illegal potion to your professors, one that could cause you a fine of a few hundred Galleons at least, and maybe even a short stay in Azkaban. If you weren't a minor and if you didn't brew the potion in Hogwarts, you would have been in a lot more trouble. So, please, shut up, Ms Granger."

The deputy headmistress took a deep breath and continued, "Since this is your first offence this year, you will be in detention for the rest of the semester, and this incident will be in your permanent school record. I will send a letter to your parents informing them about what happened. I am disappointed in you, Ms Granger. Now, get back to your common room, I will contact you about the details of your detentions later."

Hermione looked in tears as she left the room. The transfiguration mistress looked at the last two students in the room, "As for the two of you, after the mess you made with the flying car a few months ago, we told you that if you did something like this again, then you were going to be expelled. The truth is that you committed a crime, and now it's out of my hands. We'll have to go to the headmaster for this. Please follow me."

They marched in silence around a corner and the deputy headmistress stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she said. This was evidently a password because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two.

Normally, Neville would have been excited about the prospect of seeing the headmaster's office for the first time, but all he could feel was dread.

He was going to be expelled. He knew that in his bones. His grandmother was going to kill him. He was letting everyone down, even his parents. He had even dragged Ron into this scheme to clear his name, just because he couldn't handle the fact that people didn't like him anymore.

The Weasleys were going to be heartbroken, and it was all his fault. Maybe the information they had gotten from Potter could help them. Dumbledore wouldn't punish them for helping him stop the heir of Slytherin, would he?

Potter was already resentful of Dumbledore for some reason, even if he had somewhat of a point, and Neville did start having questions of his own for the headmaster. If Potter was right that the Chamber was opened when he was in the castle, why didn't Dumbledore stop him the first time? If the culprit was obviously framed, then how did Dumbledore let that happen and why did he stop looking for the chamber altogether? And why didn't he reveal the nature of the beast? Potter had figured it out, after all, and he's a student.

Did Dumbledore just hope that the problem would just go away on its own?

Neville had many questions and even if he was going to be expelled, he wasn't leaving without answers.

Having been distracted by his thoughts, the boy who lived didn't notice the spiral staircase that appeared in front of him. As they all stood on it, it started to rise in circles, until at last, slightly dizzy, Neville saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a gryphon.

They had arrived at Dumbledore's office.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 103: Difficult Position

3 December 1992, Hogwarts

Sometimes, Albus Dumbledore feels like this whole long-term investment in Neville Longbottom was too much of a headache. It might have been urged by the powers of light, who guided him into creating the boy who lived, but no magic could save him from the headache that this boy kept sending his way.

And it had been going too well before the brat even attended Hogwarts. Weaponizing a prophecy for his own gain took a lot of time and effort. The ritual he had given the Longbottoms, and the Potters had worked. Lord Voldemort had been defeated, and turned into a pale shadow of a living being, activating the prophecy. That meant that the moment Neville Longbottom was marked by Voldemort, half the prophecy was completed, meaning that the other half must happen as well, the energy was there, and the price was paid. Breaking the prophecy himself could liberate this energy and use it to create magnificent things, that could warp reality in unpredictable ways.

And it was this potential that stopped him from just killing the boy out of frustration for his actions. Who in their right mind uses a flying car to get to school, just because they missed the train? Just using a floo for a couple of sickles to get to Hogsmeade and send an owl would have been enough. But no, the boy who lived had to make Albus' life miserable. The number of favours he had to call in, not just on a national scale, but international as well, to make this go away was staggering. Breaking the International Statute of Secrecy was a big taboo, and if it had been a random muggleborn doing something like this, he would have been found dead from mysterious causes hours after the incident.

Honestly, the Headmaster didn't care about indiscretions as long as they were in private, and well, he could always use them to motivate people. But seriously, sometimes Albus wondered what went on in that empty head of Longbottom's.

He was having a perfectly nice night before Severus sent him a Patronus message telling him that Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, were discovered to be infiltrating the Slytherin common room having drank a Polyjuice potion. Worse, they were discovered in public and reverted back to their original appearance in the middle of the crowded common room.

And that alone was a political mess. The Crabbe, Goyles, and Bulstrodes were not particularly powerful families, but they were essentially in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. So, making something like this go away would take a lot of effort and concessions on his part. Breaking into another's house's common room was already bad enough, and the school charter proclaimed that it should be severely punished. But it was still a school matter. However, the use of an illegal potion publicly was also a problem since it was technically grounds for the ministry to interfere. They rarely ever did it, but with the mess that this school year has been, and Malfoy probably pushing Fudge to do something, there was the very real possibility that this would escalate.

Luckily, there were other ways to impersonate people, so as far as anyone else is concerned, they could be holding some kind of illusion artefact that malfunctioned at once, due to spell interference. The bigger problem was the fact that impersonating members of another house was grounds for a blood feud. Thankfully, family matters for events occurring in Hogwarts were under the headmaster's purview, as long as the judgement was fair. It was an obscure law written in the school charter to avoid honour duels between students for some slight or another. The Ministry of Magic hadn't been created yet, and since Hogwarts was technically considered outside of their involvement, Albus could deal with it himself.

Of course, the fact that Hogwarts wasn't governed by the ministry didn't change the fact that they could make things difficult if they wanted to. The castle wasn't under their control, but the curriculums, the exams, the funds, and many other things were. It was possible for them to interfere, but it wasn't usually worth the effort.

So, that meant that Dumbledore needed to put on a show of sorts and explain that no one was above the rules. And honestly, the brats deserved it. Who in Merlin's name does something like this, and why?

Although Albus also shared some blame for that incident. He had allowed Neville, Ron, and Hermione, immunity from the wards on all common rooms. That was a mistake he had made the previous year when he wanted them to investigate the stone and he had forgotten to remove the access. None of this mess would have happened if it wasn't for this oversight. He was so preoccupied with the stone and Nicholas that he forgot.

Of course, that was when Minerva and Severus arrived with two students following behind. Ah, so Miss Granger got off the hook somehow. He gave his deputy headmistress a questioning look and she immediately got his message, "Miss Granger has been punished already, but since these two have broken their agreement and couldn't wait for an entire semester without causing another scandal, I thought it would be prudent to take them to you."

Ah, yes, he had gently threatened them with expulsion after the flying car fiasco. He looked at the two students who were staring at the sleeping Fawkes in awe, "Ah, this is Fawkes, my companion of many years. He found me when I was just out of Hogwarts when I was lost and needed a little guidance. As you can probably tell, he is a phoenix. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets," Fawkes looked up and gave him a slight glare, "According to him, I am the pet."

The aged headmaster was chuckling at the end of the sentence. He really liked to show Fawkes up. Phoenixes really were rare creatures but very few people knew of their nature and Dumbledore wanted to keep it that way.

Albus motioned to the chairs in front of him and continued, "Well, Neville, Ron, please sit down. I believe we have much to discuss. I believe that I must congratulate you for being the students that caused the most non-educational work for the faculty in a single semester."

The Longbottom boy looked down, "We're really sorry about all of that, sir."

"Nonsense, my dear boy, we can more than handle the increased workload, even if it comes at the cost of a few nights of sleep. The only occurrence you need to be apologetic for is the most recent one pertaining to Polyjuice Potion. It is very illegal to be caught in possession of that particular potion. Normally, we would have been required to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about it, but for some reason, it appears that we couldn't find any traces of the potion anywhere, so we must assume that you used some kind of illusion spell that helped you impersonate other students to break into the Slytherin common room, and illusion spells are not illegal, are they?"

It took a little while for the boy to understand where he was getting at. The Weasley boy still looked confused. Seriously, did Molly Weasley drop him as a child or something? Severus, who was standing behind the boys, gritted his teeth and nodded. He wasn't happy, but he was willing to play along and dispose of the Polyjuice for now.

Young Neville finally understood what they were going for, "Yes, sir. Of course, sir, we used an illusion spell."

Alright, with that settled, they avoided the Aurors' interference, at least. Now, onto the rest, of this mess, "Now, to make sure that he wouldn't confess to ingredients being stolen from his cupboard, Professor Snape will make a list of missing ingredients that you will have to reimburse for borrowing and losing them."

The Weasley boy started to protest, "You can't…"

"You'll find that I very much can, Mr. Weasley. Theft is not authorized in Hogwarts. I will personally contact your guardians with the final amount, and the circumstances of this mess. I believe that it will be a considerable amount, especially considering that a few of the ingredients were quite rare. I also believe that impersonating the children of magical families can have very steep consequences, so I will leave your families to deal with the reparations themselves."

The two children's faces paled in fear of their guardians finding out, and at the amount of gold they will probably have to pay. Young Neville was due for a very terrifying scolding session. Augusta Longbottom will probably severely punish the boy enough for him to at least keep his head down this year.

"Now, before we proceed with your punishment, and believe me, you will be punished, I need to understand why you did what you did."

The redhead exploded first, "We only wanted to catch the heir of Slytherin."

"Ron, shut up," young Neville interjected, "we wanted to clear my name by finding out who was petrifying the other students. Ever since people found out I was a Parselmouth, everyone looked at me like I was one second away from attacking them."

And wasn't that a reveal that flipped the entire board? Albus never had the chance to study Parseltongue enough to understand how worked, or how it was transmitted. It couldn't be through blood, but honestly, the headmaster didn't know exactly what had happened on the night Neville Longbottom survived the killing curse.

He didn't even understand the ritual that he had given to Alice Longbottom. The Light had guided him in its creation, but its details were obviously beyond him. The premise was supposed to be simple. A life for a life. After all, only death may pay for life. And then it happened, an unstoppable force in the form of the killing curse, met an indestructible object, who according to the ritual is supposed to be protected, and well, that caused an explosion of raw magic. It became a blind spot for everything, and by the time the residue cleared up, there was nothing, but a destroyed room filled with ash and an unconscious boy with a scar on his forehead. Young Neville's scar was still protected by the magical event, and well, Augusta Longbottom didn't let him study the scar afterwards, and the headmaster didn't feel like it mattered enough for him to press her about it. Now, he would need to do it. The next time the boy found himself in the infirmary, Albus was going to keep him asleep and study whatever was going on in this scar. His theories so far were worrying, especially considering the method he theorized Voldemort used to live on past his death.

Instead of saying any of that, Albus stayed composed, "And you thought that breaking into the Slytherin common room would help you how?"

The Longbottom scion looked down, embarrassed, "We thought that the Slytherins would know more than the rest of the school."

Severus then snorted, "Of course you did. What an imbecilic response! I am glad that your idiocy is not contagious Longbottom, or I would fear for the next generation of wizards and witches in this country."

"Hey! We were right," the redhead protested, "Potter knew stuff about the Chamber of Secrets. He said that he figured out what the monster was."

The two professors stiffened but that little exclamation made Dumbledore freeze, "Explain!"

His tone wasn't the gentle one he used earlier, and the Longbottoms scion stiffened, "He started up with a lecture on the Chamber of Secrets, like how it was older than the whole blood purity thing, that it was probably a place that Salazar Slytherin used to swindle the other founders of their magic while hiding his own for his heirs. It was kinda interesting but it was hard to pay attention because of how nervous we all were."

"What about the monster?" Albus pressed.

"Well, he said it was obvious, but didn't say what it was. Only that me being a Parselmouth confirmed it. He said it had to be a long-lived reptile that could petrify people. That it was obvious that you knew what it was but didn't say anything since that would close down the school. He said that you knew for a long time from when it was opened fifty years ago and that you said nothing because the school would have been declared unsafe and would have closed down permanently."

Albus had tried to figure out the secret of the chamber of secrets and tracked it down to the bathroom young Myrtle died in, probably accidentally. He had found nothing but a snake carving on one of the sinks, but he could not get it to open. He tore down the bathroom, but nothing was underneath. Even the Elder Wand could not get inside.

Tom had been very clever back then, a far cry from the sadistic man he became late in life. He had an Alibi for every attack, and he struck seemingly randomly to push as much terror as possible at him. Dippet was pushing Dumbledore towards solving this mystery, being the greatest mind of his generation and whatnot. He hated to admit it, but Voldemort had been very close to getting him kicked out if he hadn't stopped after Myrtle Warren had died, and just framed Hagrid at the threat of the school closing.

And so, the Basilisk remained hidden, hopefully forever. Albus Dumbledore couldn't get into the chamber and kill it, but Tom seemed to change afterwards and had no desire to reopen the chamber. That is until now. Honestly, if it wasn't for the reports, he had gotten about Voldemort being in Albania, he would have assumed he had possessed someone else. Alas, he couldn't find the logic of him doing it instead of getting a body of his own. Perhaps, he had a secret son or a daughter he was using to do this?

It didn't matter. Hogwarts was Dumbledore's place of power; he wouldn't let some scared parents close it down. He needed to stop the attacks, but they were just so random, and only two of them happened so far, not enough to find out what happened. He had tried to find the bathroom once more for the mark, but the snake carving was gone. He didn't understand what that meant, to be honest, only that the entrance of the chamber wasn't in Myrtle's bathroom anymore.

But it was worrying that Harry Potter had figured all of this out. Very worrying indeed. Perhaps, the boy would need to be discouraged. Although, he had the good sense not to tell everyone about it and spread fear.

The aged Headmaster sighed heavily, "I'm afraid that young Harry is correct in his conclusion. Quite the smart lad, isn't he? I do know what the monster is, and that is why I wish to handle the issue discreetly. It is a very dangerous monster but if we close down the school, the monster will remain here forever, meaning that Hogwarts would be gone, with no replacement in sight. Only the heir can open the chamber, hence why I couldn't do it. Salazar Slytherin was a very impressive wizard, after all. Believe me, I will do my best to stop this monster from continuing, but I need your word that you will not speak of this to another person about any of this."

The two boys nodded, and Dumbledore continued, "Now, back to your punishment. I'm afraid that with your repeated offence this semester, I have no choice but to suspend you until the end of the winter holidays. I will contact your guardians with the details as well, but this is the lightest punishment I could give you, especially since I am breaking my promise, I made earlier in the year that you would be expelled if you do something as egregious as the manner that which you arrived to school in September."

The two baffled looks on the boys' faces were priceless. Served the brats right for giving him so much work. Now, he only needed to meet up with Harry Potter to make sure that brat wouldn't talk.

And he also will need to speak to Severus and Minerva and explain to them why he had allowed Neville, Ron, and Hermione, immunity from the wards in all common rooms. He could tell that it wasn't going to be a nice conversation.

---

Chapter 104: Of Burning Light

5 December 1992, Hogwarts

It took two days of intense days of deals and explanations for Dumbledore to make the entire thing go away. And even then, he had to make a lot of concessions and offer a few favours, and the best result he had gone with was the fact that the boy who lived wasn't going to be arrested, nor was he going to be expelled. To be completely honest, Albus didn't really care about the Weasley boy and would have let him deal with the consequences of his actions. Alas, he needed young Neville to be close, and he couldn't really let him off while leaving his friend to the wolves. That would scream of favouritism. That boy really was a headache sometimes.

But that didn't compare to the headache he had when he explained the situation to the boys' guardians. The Granger girl was a simple matter of sending a letter saying that she had an official warning after breaking the rules and using an illegal potion and that she would be serving detention until the end of the semester.

However, since the two boys were the ones in deeper trouble, he preferred to explain to them the situation in person and well, the Weasley Matriarch started screaming halfway through, and barely let him talk while she kept yelling at her son, telling him that his brothers were never this stupid and that he was ruining his life. No wonder the boy had an inferiority complex the size of Mount Olympus.

The Longbottom Matriarch, on the other hand, just gave her grandson a withering look filled with disappointment that made him droop into his seat with shame. Soon after explaining the situation, he dismissed them, telling them that he would try to help them privately. Afterwards, he summoned the Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode family heads, who had been informed about what happened to their children.

Albus didn't want to make this a public scandal, at least not as much as it already was, but after some negotiations, the Crabbe and Goyle family heads were appeased with some monetary compensation, which Augusta Longbottom was more than willing to pay, however, the Bulstrode family had just asked for a favour from him to be claimed at another date since they didn't think a muggleborn could offer them much politically. This was by far the worst concession so far. Promising a favour to a family in Lucius Malfoy's pocket, now was something that pained him to do. What has the world come to, when he, Albus Dumbledore, the champion of light, promised a boon to a family that followed a Dark Lord? He only hoped that the Longbottom boy was worth all this mess because Albus was really close to just killing the boy and using the breaking of the prophecy in a ritual or another.

Augusta Longbottom seemed satisfied with his efforts, enough that she promised to pay the Weasley's side of things as well since the family's finances were in a very bad state. They definitely didn't have enough to pay five thousand galleons to avoid their son going to Azkaban. So, long story short, Albus managed to get the aggrieved families to not press any charges in the ministry or talk about it in public.

So, with that done, the impersonation aspect of the Gryffindors' crimes was removed and adding in the fact that any trace of Polyjuice was removed, all it came back to, was just breaking into another common room, which is strictly under the school's purview.

Now, the only hurdle in his efforts was the fact that Rita Skeeter had somehow managed to find out about it, probably from a letter sent by a Slytherin student, and the public was in an uproar. It didn't help that young Neville had publicly broken the law when came to school with a flying car. Albus needed to call in a few favours to make sure that the article wouldn't be too damaging, and that no other would follow it. He wanted to remove the article altogether, but the information was out there, and Albus didn't want to look too heavy-handed with his involvement.

And maybe that was a good thing, in the long run. The article itself actually praised Dumbledore's impartial actions in suspending the boy who lived despite his celebrity status and was more talking about the reckless actions of the boy himself, and how he easily disregarded the laws of the nation. Perhaps the public's opinion could pressure young Neville to do better and think before doing something like this again.

And Albus had already lost a lot of goodwill with the Daily Prophet by telling them not to publish the petrifications and the chamber of secrets being opened. He didn't need to make an issue He would deal with it later, but the main issue he had to deal with was the cold glares his staff were giving him.

It turned out that giving full access to a few students and forgetting about it had made them angry. He would never say it out loud, but he would admit that he messed up with that one. Giving the children full access to the wards meant that they had full access to their professors' private rooms, and that was just a breach of privacy. Albus had done it before many times to test a few students that he later invited into his Order of the Phoenix when they graduated. The only problem was that a few of them accidentally used that connection to build a real map of the castle with all the people registered in the wards inside and see their movements in real time. These Marauders really could be accidentally brilliant sometimes.

He didn't say that to Severus, of course, the man was already furious at him for risking his charges' privacy, and the younger man had to speak with the Slytherin court to reassure them that they weren't at risk anymore. It didn't help that Albus practically forced the potion master to stay in the school in his stead during the winter holidays to investigate the opening of the chamber, instead of going home.

Still, Albus was so preoccupied in the last few days that he only just had time to satisfy his curiosity about the Potter boy. The young Slytherin knew too much but didn't seem intent on sharing that knowledge, except for when young Neville and his friends asked him about it.

The fact that the boy so readily gave out information that he intentionally didn't spread before, one that would have given him a lot of prestige in his house, led to a single conclusion. Harry Potter knew that the Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode scions were imposters, and more specifically, that they were young Neville and his friends. And even then, he had revealed just enough to make the Longbottom scion think that he had gotten one over the Potter boy, only to have the information that his 'rival' had allowed him to have, a facet of the truth orchestrated by the boy in seconds.

Honestly, the thought of just obliviating the boy did come across Albus' mind, but the damage to a young mind, especially one that was defended enough that he would need to overpower, could be irreparable. Oh, Albus would do it in a heartbeat, but Harry Potter was an asset in the making, one that he wouldn't throw away needlessly. After all, Albus is many things, but he is not wasteful. The boy was intelligent and his position in Slytherin could be leveraged to act as a spy when Lord Voldemort inevitably returns.

And here he was, the child with Lily Potter's eyes, and James Potter's face, staring at him with an intelligent glint in his eyes, "So, Professor Snape didn't say why you summoned me, Headmaster. I assume it has to do with Longbottom's, how do I say it, indiscrete actions…"

"That would be correct, Harry. Young Neville told me that he fooled you into revealing dangerous information…"

"Ah yes, Polyjuice is quite the potion, isn't it? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that he didn't use Polyjuice. The Daily Prophet said that it was an illusion spell, right? I have to say that whatever it was, I was completely fooled, Longbottom would make a great Auror one day," the boy answered with a small smile on his face.

"For some reason, I have a hard time believing you, my boy. But the question was, why did you reveal such important information without thinking twice about it," the headmaster asked.

"They simply asked, and I find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," the boy responded with the same infuriating smile on his face.

Albus did his best to not visibly grit his teeth; the boy was directly quoting him, now, "But certain information is dangerous to be shared, like the nature of Slytherin's monster. Out of curiosity, how did you come to figure it out?"

"Mostly through deduction. With enough information, one could understand the world, and maybe even predict the future. I only needed to find any mention of the chamber of secrets in past Daily Prophet articles, and I had an accurate list of the attacks that happened fifty years ago, adding in that Longbottom was a Parselmouth and had been following a voice during the first attack, it's easy to figure out what it was."

"And what do you plan to do with that information," Albus asked.

"Nothing. Revealing it would cause mass panic. Hogwarts would close but the main issue is that whoever is responsible could start acting rashly, and other mistakes could start happening, like young Myrtle Warren, for example. So, I'm leaving it to you to do your job."

Yes, the boy figured out that the beast was probably a Basilisk, "And how do you know that figure out the identity of the beast?"

"If a student with less than two years of magical education, no matter how brilliant, figured out in a couple of months what you couldn't do in decades, then I would have a lot of questions about your competence and your general intelligence. And you are many things, Albus Dumbledore, but unintelligence is not one of them."

"And, if the information was so dangerous, why did you give it away so readily?" The headmaster asked.

"I had a good feeling about it…"

No, you little brat. You knew exactly that Neville was there and told him about him purposefully, while making sure not to reveal the identity of the beast, just enough clues for the boy to figure out on his own.

Alas, Dumbledore didn't think confronting the Potter scion about it would achieve much. He was too guarded and the boy's occlumency was competent enough to stop a passive Legilimency probe, so he couldn't find out more about his motivations, only his results.

"And you said that Hagrid was framed. What's your proof?" the champion of light asked, deciding the change the subject.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the boy simply replied.

Dumbledore stiffened, "How do you know that name?"

"He's the one that caught Hagrid with an Acromantula, which cannot petrify people. Marvolo is a Gaunt traditional name, who are descendants of Slytherin, so that makes him the prime suspect. People with sociopathic tendencies often like to get involved in the investigation, sometimes out of arrogance, and sometimes out of fear. And if you rearrange the letters in the name, you get the name of a certain Dark Lord. Adding in the fact that the Dark Lord was rumoured to be a Parselmouth and a descendant of Slytherin, the pattern fits."

As the boy continued speaking, Albus started to get paler and paler, "That is very dangerous information, young Harry."

"You mean that since Riddle isn't a wizarding family name, the Dark Lord is probably a half-blood which means that his entire cause was probably a lie to grab power?"

"Yes, he does not take kindly to those who look deeply into his past. You have seen the past year what happens when he is irritated, he would be infuriated if he figured out that someone knew of the past that he has been trying to hide for so long."

The boy looked pensive for a second, "Understandable, to be honest, and I had no plans on doing so. I'm just pointing it out to remind you why he started attacking muggleborns in the first place and actively didn't kill them. A Basilisk's gaze is a very easy method of killing, especially discreetly. But instead, he chose to cultivate this fear, to create this infamous personality of the heir of Slytherin."

"The gaze was redirected…" Dumbledore started.

"Every time? One is a happenstance, twice a coincidence, but twelve times, for twelve attacks, you can't seriously believe that? You don't see it, do you? After all this time, decades of thoughts, you still didn't understand why Tom Riddle decided to open the Chamber of Secrets in this manner, and how this time, it's very different, even if it looked the same."

"And do you care to enlighten me?" Dumbledore asked with an amused tone, even if he was inwardly disturbed.

"Oh, you don't see it, do you? Who am I to take away your enlightenment? I have given you the clues to figure it out yourself. Who knows, Headmaster, perhaps by the time you realize his motivation, you'll understand him a little better. This was a lovely talk, Headmaster, but I believe you have a lot on your mind, Headmaster. Good night."

The boy actually turned and walked towards the entrance, leaving a gaping old man. He scratched Fawkes on the way back and left without saying another word. The sheer audacity of that boy…

Still, it did give him a lot to think about…

---

AN: Before any of you say that Dumbledore was too forgiving with him, you have to remember that he's still heavily underestimating Harry. As smart as he is, Harry is still technically twelve, and it is hard to take someone that young seriously about anything. Dumbledore pretty much assumes that he's a future asset that he would manipulate easily over the years. After all, he should still have 5 more years with him, so it makes no sense to just antagonize the boy. A memory charm also wouldn't be an option, since he would need to erase any knowledge that brought him to a conclusion (outside of the danger of doing something like this on a developing mind). Because this wasn't some event that he could forget, but an entire train of thoughts. He could severely mentally cripple Harry if he did that.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 105: One Step Forwards

19 December 1992, Hogwarts

It was the end of the semester, and for the first time, Harry wasn't staying at Hogwarts for the winter holidays. The previous year, Harry was blinded by Hogwarts' beauty and the wonder of a magical castle for him to explore. But the thing was that it was easy to get bored if you stayed too long in a single place, and while the castle was lovely, a change of atmosphere was welcome.

Normally, the Potter scion wouldn't have done it. Every time he stayed in Diagon Alley, he risked being found out by some concerned parent and brought to the ministry, and he didn't really need to pay anything to stay in the castle during the holidays.

However, Arcturus Black invited him to attend the Yule ceremony with him in his manor, and the Potter scion had planned to ask the Black Patriarch for a favour that he needed for his Basilisk contingency. With Tom Riddle returning in a couple of months, Harry needed to prepare for the possibility of fighting a Basilisk, and luckily, his magical crest had given him the plans for a weapon for him to use.

In other news, Harry had finally made some progress in the Anti-Basilisk Glare goggles, precisely, he had found a way to decrease the possibility of the lenses breaking. The key lies in the Alchemical Elixir of Hardening, which reinforces a material permanently and makes it impossible to change. Ironically enough, it was a form of petrification. Harry was still wary of the permanent effects of Alchemy, but elixirs were usually the safest side of the field to learn from if you made sure not to touch and imbibe the product at any point.

To even strengthen the enchantment, Harry decided to make each lens to be about the size of a human, which allowed him to carve the runes without any issues on the side of the lens. The lenses were then shrunk using a shrinking charm, which was rendered permanent after treating the lens with the Hardening Elixir, which petrified them. The lenses were positioned in a way that would reflect any magic effectively, and the loss would be sent in by small Orichalcum veins that surrounded each lens and transported the energy into two rubies that were magically treated to hold magic to be used at a later date. Jewelcraft was a surprisingly diverse field of magic.

So, yeah, Harry had finished his Anti-Basilisk Glare goggles. It had taken a few weeks to figure out the Alchemical process so that he wouldn't blow himself up or injure himself permanently. However, the only issue was that he didn't know how these would hold against an actual Basilisk Glare, and he had no way of testing that. Perhaps, the Black Patriarch would help. He would probably find that out in a couple of hours.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Blaise who was struggling to push his heavy trunk in the first compartment of the Hogwarts Express available, "I'm really happy to be out of the castle and going home this year."

"I see what you mean." Sighed Harry, once the group of four were all seated in the compartment. "Between the snow storms and the attacks, winter is really not pleasant at Hogwarts this year."

"I heard only a few students were staying here for the holidays," Tracy interjected.

The Potter scion could see where they were going from. Practically no one wanted to risk attending the school and risk getting petrified.

"The Weasleys and some older students wanting to study for their NEWTS are all the living who remain." Confirmed Daphne. "Apart from the teachers who do not go home for Christmas, everybody is gone, even the researchers all were scared from getting petrified in a way that Dumbledore couldn't reverse without a Mandrake Draught."

"Wouldn't it be safer in the castle now?" Tracy asked, "With Longbottom suspended. Wasn't he the heir of Slytherin?"

Yeah, the Potter scion had to stifle a smirk at that. His impromptu prank was a bit more effective than he expected. He didn't expect Dumbledore to outright suspend Longbottom and Weasley. The Golden Trio had to have entered the Slytherin common room without the wards expelling them, and that meant that either Snape or Dumbledore had to support them. The latter was more likely. So, Harry decided to expose them in a way that wouldn't be traced back to him and that wouldn't be hushed up with the headmaster like all the other complaints.

Harry expected Dumbledore to just ignore the situation like all the previous ones and let the court of Slytherin take revenge in the house's stead. The golden trio would get the valuable information they wanted but they would have been punished enough that they would think twice before doing something like this in the future.

It certainly sounded like this would be the plan that Dumbledore would follow when Harry was summoned to the headmaster's office. The aged headmaster seemed like he kept focusing on the information Harry had, and not on the fact that his golden boy had broken the rules. Harry's knowledge of Tom Riddle's name had rattled the old man, but it was questioning the fact that he didn't even have a modicum of understanding of his enemy that truly shut the man up. Now, the headmaster would be so lost in his memories, trying to figure out the motivations of Tom Riddle and Harry wished him good luck with that.

Harry expected the man to be distracted by the information he revealed as well as the political shitstorm that the boy who lived and his friends made. Yet, Dumbledore just outright suspended Weasley and Longbottom. Suspensions were rare in Hogwarts and since there hadn't been an attack ever since Longbottom left the castle, the entire student body was convinced that Longbottom was the one attacking. To be perfectly honest, it was all a big misunderstanding, but humbling the boy who lived without even meaning to was surprisingly satisfying.

Anyway, Hermione, who was the only one not to be suspended, had been hounded with questions but refused to say anything for fear of incriminating herself and the others.

Blaise yawned loudly, "I, for one, didn't expect Dumbledore to suspend Longbottom and Weasley for just breaking into our common room. I'm pretty sure that the Weasley twins broke into all four, but they were barely punished."

"Yeah, but they weren't found out," Harry said, "and they definitely weren't using an illegal potion to break in and impersonate the children of a few Wizengamot members. The headmaster probably wanted to avoid the ministry. Looking too closely on this, especially with the attacks happening."

"Isn't the school its own entity? I remember reading something that said that, technically speaking, Hogwarts is a law in itself in Britain. The Ministry of Magic only had control over a handful of things, but not nearly as much as the Headmaster."

Daphne nodded, "Yeah, but they still have enough power to interfere if a severe crime happens. The use of Polyjuice potion by a public figure would make news and that would be a scandal by itself. This was Dumbledore essentially punishing his golden boy enough that no one would say that it wasn't warranted, and no one would really raise a fuss, especially since all traces of Polyjuice disappeared so they claimed it was using illusions. Yeah, like Longbottom could cast something as delicate as an illusion for half an hour without messing anything up. So, in the end, it'll boil down to closed-door deals to make repairs and the reputation of the school is maintained."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend's explanation. She was really clever when it came to political motives. She really will make waves when she joins the Wizengamot one day.

"What about the petrifications? Why doesn't the ministry interfere then?" Tracy asked.

"Well, that's easy," Harry replied, "Every case that the ministry takes on Hogwarts soil that is not officially its responsibility, must be accepted by either the Headmaster or the Board of Directors after the charter reformation of Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black. Apparently, Black decided to allow the ministry to help with the muggleborn and orphan funds, since his predecessor was fired for mismanaging the school's gold. It's the only reason the ministry could even interfere in the castle. Now, Dumbledore obviously doesn't want the Aurors messing around with his territory, and well, for some reason the Board feels the same. Since Lucius Malfoy is a member, I'm assuming that he has no issue in the situation since petrifications are easily reversible, or maybe he's waiting for something to happen to act on it. I don't know. There's also the fact that the entire fiasco is obviously forbidden from being published, either by Fudge or Dumbledore. So far, only a cat was killed, a squib that no one liked and that had no family is petrified, and a Gryffindor muggleborn with only his mother as his blood relations, a Gryffindor that is honestly so unremarkable that people forgot he even existed."

Tracy groaned and palmed her face, "I didn't notice that there hadn't been a single article about it in the Daily Prophet."

"Welcome to the world of politics, young Davis," Harry answered her with a smug smile, "There's a reason why I hate dealing with it."

"But you're pretty good at it though?" Blaise asked.

"Being good at something doesn't mean that you have to like it. I would very much rather read a good book or experiment with my magic than debate a senseless issue for hours without achieving anything. Honestly, I'm dreading the day I'll have to attend a Wizengamot meeting."

Tracy snorted, "You'll probably turn it into a lecture of some sort, anyway."

They all bantered for a couple of hours, until Daphne asked an important question, "What about the heir? What are we supposed to do about him?"

They all looked at Harry who shrugged, "Why are you all staring at me?"

"Because you always have an explanation and you can't leave a mystery alone to save your life," Daphne answered with a cheeky tone.

"Hey," the green-eyed boy protested, "I am not that bad."

"You kinda are, Harry," Tracy answered.

The Potter scion looked at his only male friend who just betrayed him by nodding. He was on his way to protest again but was interrupted by Daphne, "So, you're telling me that you have no idea who is behind this at all?"

"Well…" Harry started.

"And that's why we all looked at you. Unbelievable! Half the school and the entire faculty are trying to solve the mystery of the chamber and you're ahead of everyone. Why don't you say anything about it?"

The Potter scion hesitated for a second before answering, "Yeah, I figured out who is opening the chamber and what the monster is. The problem is that it's a very complicated situation and the magic involved is some pretty messed up stuff that I have no business knowing about. Seriously, this is the kind of magic that gets you hunted down for just knowing about it and I don't want to get to a trial where I'll have to convince people not to kill me for my knowledge. Look, the reason I'm not involving anyone else is that whoever is doing this is messed up in the head and the monster is very dangerous. Honestly, killing students is easier to do than petrifying them. It's actively holding back and breaking the rules in our little game could have a lot of consequences."

"Please, Harry, we're your friends," Daphne pleaded while holding his arm.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry looked at them, "I have been keeping you separated from this part of my life for a reason. You'll see things that you would consider to be impossible. You will see the world differently, and even then, I can't tell you everything, but I will assure you that the way you see the world will be over. So, I'm giving you a choice."

Harry opened a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and took out six beans. Half of them being red, and the other half being blue. He handed over a bean of each colour to his friends, leaving them each a red bean and a blue bean, and grinned. Harry always wanted to say this, "And there will be no going back from this choice, which is why I will leave you as much time as you want before you give me your answer, and I won't take one before the winter holidays are over. When you make your decision, I want you to hand me one of those beans. If you choose the blue bean, I will take it on the fact that you wish to relish in your ignorance. There's no shame in not wanting to involve yourselves in something dangerous. But if you take the red bean, I'll show you a glimpse of how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember that this is your choice. Make sure you don't regret it."

Not letting them say anything, Harry got up, took out his trunk and left the compartment. They had arrived in London without them noticing, that's how distracted they all were. Still, Harry got out of the train and walked towards the familiar melody of the Black Patriarch, choosing not to think too much about the choice he had given his friends. He honestly didn't know if he wanted them to accept his offer, or if he wanted them to reject it.

---

Chapter 106: Dark Festivities

20 December 1992, Hogwarts

The home of Arcturus Black was oddly cosy for the Patriarch of such a fearsome family. To be perfectly honest, Harry expected a dark mansion filled with dangerous creatures and hidden traps that cursed whoever was inside, driving them slowly to insanity. Instead, was a tastefully decorated manor with three floors and three wings.

When the Black Patriarch took Harry there using a Portkey, the entire structure was hidden under the snow that was falling. Of course, it took a couple of minutes for him to recover the nausea coming from using Portkey. Why did all magical travel have to be this uncomfortable? At least the floo wasn't that bad.

Anyway, from the outside, the manor was beautiful. There were stone sculptures, fountains and decorations everywhere, some of them shining in ethereal light to celebrate the bank holidays at the end of the year.

The inside was just as tasteful as the outside. The entrance hall was spectacular; the walls had magical paintings on them, a blue and comfortable carpet covered the floor, and the chandelier was golden and diffusing a brilliant magical light. The atmosphere was warm, and welcoming, with the wealth and the decorations one expected of a Victorian-era noble residence.

They could have probably arrived inside the manor, but Arcturus obviously wanted to show off for some reason, but they didn't really talk to each other. The only thing the old man said was that Harry was welcome to browse the library, showed him to his room, and stated that the young Slytherin was assigned his own personal house elf for the duration of his stay. It was a nice young elf called Tilly, who seemed very enthusiastic at the idea of taking care of Harry.

Anyway, the moment he was shown to his room, which was located on the upper floor of Black Manor, Harry couldn't help but be awestruck by its elegance and charm. The corridor leading to it was lined with ancient tapestries that depicted the proud history of the Black family, and soft torches adorned the walls, casting a warm and soothing glow.

The room itself wasn't some expression of wealth, the person having designed it had obviously preferred comfort over decorations. It was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that allowed the daylight to flood in during the day, offering glimpses of the snow outside. In the centre of the room stood an exquisite four-poster bed, its frame made of dark, polished wood adorned with delicate engravings. The soft, emerald-green bedding was embellished with silver trim, making it look regal yet inviting. A matching, plush armchair sat in the corner, inviting him to relax and unwind with a book from the extensive library downstairs. Outside of a mahogany desk, a few empty bookshelves, and an empty closet, the room was somewhat empty.

The bed was really comfortable, so much so, that Harry had fallen asleep the moment he lay down on it, mostly because he was tired from his journey on the Express. When the Potter scion had woken up the next day, he began his morning routine and went down the stairs to have his breakfast.

Arcturus Black was waiting for him, with a plate of perfectly cooked eggs and sausages in front of him, "I suppose you had a good night?"

"Yes, the bed was very comfortable," Harry replied.

"Oh, I know. Melania, my wife, designed this whole place, down to every enchantment. She refused to stay in the Black townhouse, calling it an infested creepy place whose goal was to intimidate visitors than to be comfortable enough to live in. I loved that woman, but she was very blunt like that. And by the powers, that woman had a tongue on her that would make a grown man blush, and she wasn't afraid to let her opinions known."

The melancholic tone by the end of his sentence made Harry uncomfortable. He obviously missed his wife, whom he alluded previously to have died before the Potter scion was even born. Instead, he just said, "Well, at least she had good taste."

The older man snorted, "Ah, that she did. A little piece of advice from an old man. Find your own little spitfire, one who wouldn't let you get away with anything. You'll probably want to tear your hair out more times than you would like, but you'll be a happy man."

Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the idea of any kind of romantic relationship. It wasn't really his fault, but he didn't have an ounce of experience when it came to relationships. He was barely holding on to his friends, and even then, he had no idea how that happened. His previous life didn't help, since he had the social skills of a particularly dense rock back then.

The Potter scion decided to just change the subject, "So, what's the plan? You never said why you invited me to spend Yule with you."

"I was surprised you accepted, really," the older man said, "you seemed too prudent for something like this. I honestly just wanted to get a measure of you and spending a few days together should do the trick. And you don't have to worry about me being malicious, I offered you guest right, remember?"

Ah, yes, guest right, one of the oldest forms of magic, and one that was essential for a magical society to form. The idea is simple, when you offer someone a place in your home as a guest, you are not allowed to harm them in any way, and in return, they are not allowed to hurt you. The premise was older than any historic document and was enforced with a very powerful curse. Every single person who broke the agreement would lose everything that ever mattered to him, before dying a very gruesome and painful death. Old Celtic mages have somehow adapted the curse into the concept of Geas, which was a contract, or a vow enforced by that same curse. Yeah, it was a lot more hardcore than the modern unbreakable vow.

That meant that for the length of his stay, Harry could not knowingly harm Arcturus, nor could Arcturus harm Harry.

Harry simply nodded and the man continued, "Now, since you just accepted my invitation, I'm guessing you need some help with your little Basilisk problem?"

The Potter scion was taken aback; the man wasn't supposed to know about it, even if it was obvious since he had asked the man for books about the subject. Well, him not figuring it out would have been stupid on the man's part, "I assume it was easy for you to figure it out?"

"Yeah. It does explain a few things. A few of my old acquaintances have told me about the Chamber of Secrets being opened. I was at war back when it was opened, a young foolish boy who thought he could take on the world. But petrification with a Basilisk made a lot more sense than that oafish Half-Giant using an Acromantula of all things to somehow petrify people. I assume the attacks weren't mistakes and that the heir of Slytherin is aiming for petrifications?"

Harry nodded and sighed in exasperation, "I was hoping to stop the entire thing before the Basilisk was even let out. The books I asked you for were more for insurance, but I failed. But yes, the heir was aiming for petrifications. Back then, I think it was supposed to kick out Dumbledore from the castle, but the entire thing fell apart when he accidentally killed a girl."

"So, who do you think is opening it now? A descendant of that fake Dark Lord?"

"No, it is him. He left a weapon of sorts in Malfoy's hands, one that would possess the victim into opening the chamber. The man gave it to a student, and I have been tracking it down for a while. I came very close, but it changed hands. I was able to temporarily depower the damn thing, but it will recharge soon."

The man was gaping for some reason, "You're telling me that he creating something that would grant someone else access to the chamber? Assuming the Slytherin would only let the chamber be opened with Parseltongue or some kind of Blood Wards, the implications of such an artefact are immense."

"Yeah, I figured out a bit about it, and trust me, it's horrible magic. I need to destroy it, but I also need to have a plan against the Basilisk in case I'm forced to fight it."

"As interesting as this magic could be, I have to ask how exactly you knew that the chamber would open and what the monster inside it was before your school year even started. I suspected that you might have been the one opening it in the first place and that you wanted to figure out how to take control of the Basilisk, but you wouldn't have been that obvious about it if you were planning on committing a crime. So, you wanted to stop it, and you were desperate to do so, but the manner in which you acquired the information meant that it couldn't be verified or that it would put a target on your back. You're a seer, aren't you? Surprising, since I haven't heard of Seers appearing in the Potter line. It could be a family secret, so Charlus wouldn't have told me, but Seers are often celebrated and are used as a way to elevate a family's status, so there was no need to hide it. Tell me, how close am I?"

Shit! How the hell did he figure it out? Harry started to realize just out of his depth he was. This was a man who had been a politician for decades and was probably at the head of the dark faction that opposed Dumbledore the most. He was intelligent, but he was right. Harry was desperate and had gambled at the fact that he would have caught the Diary before any attack had even happened. And now his arrogance had cost him a lot of private information.

The Black Patriarch must have sensed his fear. His eyes softened and he spoke in a gentle paternal tone, "Harry, there's no need to look so worried. I told you; I'm not interested in using you. I'm too old, and I'm too tired for this, I am getting your measure as my potential heir, nothing more, and I have a lot more on my plate than attacking a schoolboy for no reason. You're young and you made a lot of mistakes when we talked to each other, and you will make a lot of mistakes over time. You need to be careful when you're talking to politicians. You're an intelligent boy, I'll give you that, but you are inexperienced when it comes to politics. I suppose that's something I'll have to help you with. My heir or not, you're Charlus' heir, and I do owe that man much, enough to help you out sometimes. Now tell me, about the basilisk. What do you have too far in terms of fighting it?" the Black Patriarch asked.

Harry took a deep breath and for the first time in this life decided to show a modicum of trust towards an adult. It wasn't easy, but the man knew already knew that it he was a seer and that he saw the chamber of secrets. It wasn't exactly true. He was technically a seer, but it wasn't how he knew about the chamber. Honestly, it was his seer abilities that pushed him towards accepting Arcturus' invitation in the first place. A week before receiving the invitation, he saw a vision of a Grim giving Harry a sword that he used to kill a giant serpent. The moment he had read the invitation later, he understood what it meant, that Arcturus Black would help arm him for the coming conflict. Perhaps revealing enough wouldn't be a bad idea, "Well, I constructed my own Basilisk Glare-Resistant goggled to avoid being killed immediately. I combined the old designs from the book you gave me with Jewel Craft, which…"

The man's eyes lit up and continued, "Which would let you absorb the diffracted magic of the glare, adding to the durability of the goggles and a possible reserve for something else. A very impressive idea, indeed. Does it work?"

"I have to way to test it, but it does refract any spell I tried, so it should work with any magic, including the Basilisk Glare," Harry responded.

"What else have you done to prepare?" The Black Patriarch was getting very excited now.

"I learnt Ice magic, but the progress is slower than I like. But the biggest thing I did was plan a weapon, one that should be capable of killing a Basilisk. The problem is that I have a few problems acquiring the materials."

"So, you need my help. What's the guarantee that this will work?" the man asked with shrewd eyes.

"Well, I am planning on crafting it tomorrow. The Winter Solstice should be optimal for this. You can judge it later, but let's be absolutely clear, that this weapon will be mine, and mine alone. You will have no stake in it whatsoever. I would rather not build it at all if that means that it would fall into another's hands. No offence, but you seem nice and all, but I don't know enough about you to trust you with something like this."

"But you'd trust me enough for the materials…" the man stated with a slight smile on his face.

"Yes. I think you would do it out of curiosity more than anything."

The Black Patriarch burst into laughter, "You know what, I really am curious. You'll have your materials. Impress me, little Potter. What do you need for your weapon?"

Harry grinned and asked, "I need as much Goblin Silver as you can spare, the more the better, and a House Elf in your service called Kreacher."

The man's eyes widening almost made the Potter scion burst into laughter.

 

[athassprkr]

Chapter 107: Shot in the Dark

21 December 1992, Hogwarts

It was finally the winter solstice and Harry was ready. It was two hours before midnight, and Harry could feel the energy of Yule slowly reach its peak, at which time, building the weapon would be optimal.

Despite what the high officials of the Ministry of the Magic chose to believe in their paranoid minds, Yule celebration rituals were in general very tame. It was well known that the night of the Winter solstice was the moment of the year when magic seemed the most willing to be chaotic, wild, and destructive.

You see, magic comes and goes like season. The closer the date is to the Winter solstice the more the magic is wilder and darker. Similarly, the more we approach the summer solstice, the more orderly and burning it becomes.

And it shows, very few people risked using this magic for any large ceremony in the Winter solstice due to the unpredictable nature of the magic, the same way that the magic is very limited and rigid in the summer solstice. There was a reason why most people preferred to use Samhain and Beltane for their preferred rituals.

Samhain rituals were already potentially dangerous; the celebrations happening at a time when the veil between the dimensions of the living and the dead thinned considerably, and more than one wizard or witch had met their rather painful end on this particular day because they were careless, but Yule rituals had a far more sinister history. There were countless tales of tragedies that wiped out entire towns and families, who had recklessly harnessed the power of the Winter Solstice for their purpose.

Of course, it is possible to use that power especially if you're some kind of specialist with an iron will and precise control over your magic, and in the case of people like Harry, if you also don't know what the actual end result is supposed to be specifically and are somehow following the flow of magic, guiding it, instead of controlling it. In Harry's situation, the only thing that guaranteed that the ritual would work was Harry's arcane hearing and the plans provided by his magical crest.

Harry went down to the ritual room in the dungeons, while wearing his special robes, took out a piece of chalk, and started to create the ritual circle. It wasn't anything fancy, just a way to absorb a fraction of the energy of the winter solstice and imbibe its destructive properties in the weapon.

It wasn't exactly necessary, but since the Potter scion aimed to create a weapon, destruction was a good attribute to have. Inside the ritual circle, was a second alchemical circle, which held the materials sacrificed for the ritual. There were seven in total, an ingot of Orichalcum that Harry had left over from his research into his Basilisk glare-resistant goggles. There was a pinch of Zouwu hair, which was a magical creature that was native to China. It was essentially a gigantic elephant-sized cat, that had some kind of scraggly main, and a disproportionately long, ruffled multicoloured tail. The main characteristics of this magical creature were the fact that it was very fast and could actually teleport while bypassing most apparition wards. These hairs cost him a pretty penny to buy.

Alongside the Zouwu hair, was a dragon heartstring. Dragons were creatures of power, and Harry definitely needed more of that for his weapon to be complete. Next to it was a plank of ash wood that Harry had bought from Ollivanders. Apparently, the wand maker sold certain woods and materials on the side, for a profit. Wands were obviously his passion but if you did the math, the man didn't sell more than fifty wands a year, which mostly happens during the summer. The wood Ollivander had provided was one from an ash tree that had grown underneath a magical nexus, an intersection of multiple ley lines. And since Yggdrasil itself was rumoured to be an ash tree in the legends, the symbolism would help.

Harry decided to also use one of his remaining magical rubies. It had proven to be up to the task in his testing, and it would provide a stabilizing effect on the thing.

But one of the main ingredients was a priceless locket with a familiar snake on it that radiated malice and darkness. It was far less subtle than the adaptive wards on the diary, and it was easy to tell that it was a Horcrux. Even the common ignorant wizard would know to stay away from the artefact, that it was probably cursed or maleficent in some way.

Kreature, the house elf that had it for a decade, had been very hesitant to give it to Harry and would have probably disobeyed if it wasn't for the Black Patriarch ordering him to give it away. Of course, the Potter scion had reassured the house elf that he was going to destroy the thing and not hide it away. Kreature was still doubtful of his claim, but he still had some hope in his eyes, nevertheless.

Finally, the final ingredient was a blade made of Goblin Silver. The handle wasn't there, only the metal itself was. This particular material was pretty hard to find, as Goblins didn't like parting with it and there was a reason, they were so zealous in getting back any artefact made with the metal the moment its owner died.

The thing about Goblin Silver is that it's regular silver that Goblin added their very essence into it. In an abstract way, they poured their very own spirit into it, which they forged with their own hands. There is a bond that always existed between a Goblin and his silver weapons, one that is said to even transcend Death.

The more magic is channelled through the weapon, the stronger its forger becomes. But their spirits will not rest even after their deaths until their bodies are salted and burned in the forge alongside every single weapon they forge.

Godric Gryffindor had bought a sword from Ragnok, who happened to be a goblin king at the time. Gryffindor's power and skill were so impressive that they propelled the goblin king to new heights, allowing him to unite the entire goblin nation under his rule. He forged the goblin nation out of hundreds of different clans and used the blood of his enemies to pave the way. He was the closest thing the goblins had to a messiah, and he was currently unable to move on to the afterlife because his descendants couldn't find the sword after Godric Gryffindor died.

The dagger that Arcturus had given away was worth a fortune, especially since it was illegal and not bought directly from a goblin. It's not like it would be recognizable in Harry's weapon, so Arcturus couldn't afford to use a legal dagger that would be demanded after his death since Harry would have used up the metal.

The man really showed him an absurd amount of trust, especially considering how little time they knew one another. Harry's musings were interrupted as he felt the peak of magic near. He carefully put each of the ingredients, and spoke up for the first time in hours, "I will begin now. Please do not disturb me and do not enter the circle under any circumstances."

The Black Patriarch nodded, "I have to say that I'm curious what you're going to do with the materials I gave you. You better impress me, kid."

"Don't worry, old man. This will be unlike anything you would have ever seen. I guarantee it."

With that done, Harry finally activated the outer ritual. Almost immediately, the circle was filled with the dark ambient magic of the winter solstice, making the chalk glow, the magic slowly started to fill the second circle, which became ready to power after a few minutes.

The Potter scion was still hesitant with alchemy, but since he wasn't giving away anything in the exchange, he should be safe. Well, relatively safe; the reaction could destabilize and cause an explosion, but Harry removed that image from his head. When dealing with magic, especially complex arcane aspects of it, confidence was key, and doubt was an easy way to get yourself killed by your own spells.

Without hesitation, Harry activated the second circle, and the ingredients floated in the air. The Goblin Silver divided itself into two pieces, one substantially larger than the other. The Dragon Hearting and the Zouwu hair were combined with the larger piece of Goblin silver, while the Orichalcum started to surround the magically treated ruby, like veins, which were pulsating with energy.

And yet, this was the best Harry's alchemical circle could do. He wasn't an expert, not even close, but his magic would have to do for what came next. Harry spread his arcane hearing and analyzed what was left. He was channelling his crest to follow the plans that it held for the weapon, and before he realized it, he started to sing.

It was a song of creation, illumination and creativity. The melodies he wove were ancient and profound, and it felt like it was resonating with the essence of life and the energies of the cosmos. It was unlike anything he had ever heard, and Harry didn't even understand what he was doing. If there was a way to describe it, it would be that it was like he was in a fugue, like he was hypnotized, and his body was moving on its own.

As the Song flowed from his lips, it took tangible form, weaving around the halfway assembled weapon. The goblin silver started to take shape into a cylinder, where thousands of minuscule runes surrounding it, making anything that entered it accelerate to an absurd degree. Some of the left-over Orichalcum into a cylinder willed with holes. He also created a small hammer that was connected to the veins of Orichalcum touching the ruby. The energy stored in the ruby could be channelled into the hammer, which would start the firing process.

Harry connected the hammer to the motion of a trigger, making it move when it did. Finally, the weapon was assembled into the familiar form of a gun, a colt to be exact. The wood finally moved like liquid and surrounded the handle. The moment it was assembled, hundreds of runes started to surround it, ones that Harry actually recognized. It was just some very powerful protection enchantments as well as using the wood as a focus to absorb ambient magic and store it into the ruby, to channel that magic later on.

Now, all that was left were the bullets, which were the most vital pieces of the weapon. After all, so far, Harry had only created a gun made of Goblin Silver and Orichalcum, that accelerated any projectile and added some magic to the target. What made this weapon special would be the bullets.

The remaining Goblin silver divided itself into seven pieces, taking the shape of a bullet. Slowly, the locket Horcrux started to move towards the bullets. Harry's voice intensified, and the locket started to shake open, revealing the black eldritch monstrosity inside that used to be a part of a soul. Voldemort was a fool for damaging himself like this, and Harry was going to use that to his advantage.

Slowly, the soul started to be drained of energy, separating the connection to the Dark Lord, and letting it move on to the afterlife with a large scream. However, the energy remaining was a small crystal shard of energy that had the properties of a soul, but still wasn't one. It was a paradox that was only possible because of the fact that Voldemort made at least one Horcrux.

Normally, life force and the soul go hand in hand, but splitting a soul can make this energy leak. Of course, the rituals make sure that it doesn't happen automatically, or that it recharges it somehow. Harry wasn't exactly an expert on the matter, but long story short, Harry was able to separate the soul and the energy within, creating a pseudo-soul.

That energy was fragmented into seven pieces, each being absorbed into a bullet. To be able to contain it, countless runes that Harry couldn't make heads or tails of, started to spread around each bullet. However, the Potter scion had a general idea of what was happening. Sure, the bullets became unbreakable, the moment they housed his pseudo soul, but the main reason Harry had chosen to do what he did was the fact that the soul was connected to every single dimension possible in reality. It was a magical requirement for life to exist. Therefore, what Harry had essentially done is use this property to enchant the Goblin Silver to literally attack every dimension at once. Now, magical protections were useless against it. Hell, even physical shields wouldn't work. These enchantments, of course, would only be activated with a burst of magic, which would be provided by the revolver.

The only thing that could stop a bullet that is fired, would be a soul. What Harry had created was a weapon capable of killing literally anything. As long as it has a soul, Harry's colt would kill it.

Slowly, the bullets levitated towards the cylinder, filling each of the slots inside. With that done, Harry grabbed the gun by its handle and felt the power within it. It bonded with Harry and immediately accepted him as its master. Yes, this will do. This was worth all the trouble.

The Potter scion looked up at the man who had witnessed the creation of what was probably one of the most dangerous weapons in the world. Arcturus Black was gaping at him and the young Slytherin gave him a giant grin, "So, what do you think? Was it everything you imagined?"

These were the last words he let out before he felt really tired and woozy. Darkness followed soon afterwards.

---

Chapter 108: Outsider's Perception

25 December 1992, Hogwarts

With purposeful strides, Severus Snape traversed the empty corridors of Hogwarts. A foreboding aura surrounded him, casting a sense of terror akin to a haunting spectre. His black robe fluttered like a bat emerging from the depths of a tormented abyss, while his jaw remained tightly clenched. Known for his consistently unpleasant demeanour, the Potion Master rarely displayed a pleasant mood, as numerous Gryffindors could attest to over the past decade. However, on this specific evening, his thoughts were particularly morose and filled with sinister intent.

It all started with Longbottom because, in the end, it all came down to Dumbledore's precious boy who lived. Seriously, the headmaster really was obsessed with the boy to a point that honestly disturbed the potion master. Longbottom was constantly monitored, every single person who spoke with him was observed, and his performance in class and even in Quidditch practice was reported by the professors. Severus wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable with this new direction of leadership.

Ever since the boy stepped foot in the school, the entire castle turned into a madhouse. The Philosopher's Stone fiasco of the previous year, where one of the professors – whom Severus told the headmaster numerous times was either a death eater or was possessed – put two students in the hospital, one of which was one of his Slytherins, who actually wasn't stupid enough to follow Longbottom in his little suicide mission. At least this showed that his snakes had some semblance of self-preservation.

And now, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and Dumbledore didn't say anything. They had all thought it was some kind of cruel prank made with a petrification obscure family spell that some pureblood supremacist learnt and decided to use to terrorize the muggleborn population into dropping out of Hogwarts. Considering that the first attack was on Filch, a rather commonly disliked person by the student body, and taking into account the timing, it wouldn't be likely that an actual mythical monster that was over a thousand years old would have the time to petrify the loathsome squib and disappear without anyone seeing anything.

Yet, now, with the aftermath of the Polyjuice incident, the Potion Professor knew that Dumbledore knew what was happening, that the students were in real danger, and didn't even tell the staff about the possible fact that the chamber was open. Well, Minerva didn't seem surprised, so he probably confided in her and Poppy Pomfrey, but Severus had a right to know that something in the school could seriously harm his charges.

The entire incident was infuriating. Sure, Longbottom and his annoying friends were punished severely. It was actually the first Hogwarts suspension in over a decade, and the press had a field day when it was leaked, but if Severus hadn't covered for them and destroyed the Polyjuice, chances are the ministry would have had to interfere, and the brats' punishments would have been far more severe.

As vindicating as seeing the brats that constantly demonized Severus in their minds, and always thought that he wanted to kill them, be finally punished somewhat fairly, the issue was that the fact the incident itself happened.

The Potion master knew how horrible it could be to be a Slytherin. The constant judgement from the other students, the suspicion that was always on the front of their minds in any conversation. Slytherins needed to be united, to project strength to survive, but they also needed to unwind, and their common room was a place for that. Dumbledore essentially giving his golden boy free access to the common room and bypassing the wards entirely was just over the line. Even Minerva was outraged, and it was her precious cubs that were the ones under fire.

Although, it was funny to see that golden boy look at the headmaster with more than a little suspicion, and by the end, the brat was pretty much accusing the headmaster of not dealing with the problem before. The man had skillfully changed the boy's mind, but that cemented the fact that one of his snakes had played the golden boy enough to make him doubt the man he considered to be his hero.

And it was Potter of all people who put a few ideas in Longbottom's head and indirectly forced the headmaster to reveal the similarity between what was happening and the attacks that happened fifty years ago. Of course, with a small application of Legilimency, and getting the full memory of the conversation with Potter, it didn't take long to figure out that the monster was a Basilisk. Sure, Severus wasn't a Magizoologist by any means, but he knew snakes and he knew poisons. It was a little-known fact that Basilisks could petrify people with their gaze, and the reveal of Longbottom being a Parselmouth and hearing voices during the attacks cemented this theory.

And that was baffling, Albus Dumbledore is letting children stay at a castle where a magical weapon of mass destruction probably still resided. Sure, the potion master could understand that the school could be closed permanently if it got out, but that did not justify the fact that it endangered the students. He had argued with the headmaster the moment he realized what the monster was, but the man chose to dismiss his warnings.

Which was why he was currently spending Christmas patrolling the castle and fruitlessly looking for any sign of the infamous Chamber of Secrets. It was probably a punishment for opposing the headmaster, whom he had barely seen since the incident. Dumbledore being away from the castle was a rising occurrence over the last school years, Dumbledore was too busy assisting Wizengamot and ICW meetings to deal with the mundane things requiring his presence inside the castle but refusing to hire more people to deal with the menial tasks. Minerva McGonagall was doing his paperwork, to take one example amongst many.

However, with the public mess Longbottom created, the man barely stayed in the castle more than a few hours at a time, trying to do his best to stop the Wizengamot from demanding to involve themselves in school matters. The Bulstrodes had quickly settled matters, seeing that it was a waste of everyone's time. However, the Crabbes and Goyles were milking it for all their worth, probably following Lucius' instructions. The longer they spent arguing, the more favours Dumbledore would have to complain to stop a formal enquiry in the school. It was funny, that Longbottom had done more damage to Dumbledore's influence in an hour, more than Lucius had ever done in over a decade.

Still, all this enjoyment at Dumbledore's misery came at the cost of more patrols, in a practically deserted school, which was a waste of time. The issue was Severus often liked to use the holidays to focus on his research, and not just walk around a castle aimlessly looking for an invisible threat.

Severus' inner rant was interrupted by a familiar voice, "You know, you could do with a little less scowling. No wonder the students are utterly terrified of you."

It was Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy Professor at Hogwarts and probably one of Severus' few true friends. She was a couple of years above him in school, but she did help him learn the ropes of their house as a fellow Half-Blood. She always gave him a helping hand whenever he was about to make a blunder, and she had heard him rant many times about Potter and his idiotic friends.

The Potion master's scowl lessened, "Yeah, I know. I always hated this time of year."

"Ah," the woman took a deep breath, "It's been over a decade, Severus. I know you miss Lily. Merlin knows that I miss her too. But you need to move on, and to stop being stuck in the past the way you've been."

"It's not that simple," Severus answered while sighing.

No, it really wasn't. Almost everyone thought that Severus was pining after Lily in school. In a way, it was true. Lily Evans was smart, beautiful, and charming, and he was attracted to her. He might have even had feelings for her at one point, but Severus knew her before she went to Hogwarts, and he could say that she was one of the most terrifying people he had ever met.

The Lily Evans that everyone knew, the golden girl of Gryffindor, who valiantly showed up purebloods with her talent, defiant to everyone's expectations, was a lie, one that she crafted the very first day she came to the castle.

She was brilliant. Oh, by Merlin, she was a brilliant witch. She had even some basic control over her magic at the age of eight, making flowers bloom wandlessly, which was extremely rare. She was devious, vindictive, cunning, so much so, that Severus was sure the only reason she didn't join him in Slytherin was that she understood what would have happened to her if she was sorted there.

And that mask that charmed her professors, that James Potter fell in love with, grew over the years, but in the shadows, with Severus, she learnt dark magic. She was even more proficient than him by the time they graduated. Honestly, Severus was sure that if it wasn't for the Dark Lord's overwhelming power and support, Lily Evans would have ended up as a new Dark Lady.

Severus didn't understand why she chose to get involved with Potter. He didn't know if she was in love with him or wanted to use him in some way. He didn't question her motives, but they did get into a fight when he complained to her that she chose Potter, the immature bully who went out of his way to harass Severus for no particular reason. They said some things that they never could take back, and in the end, their friendship was in tatters.

But without Lily, there was just something missing in his life. He foolishly joined the Death Eaters, thinking that servicing the Dark Lord might have helped fill that void, but it didn't. He just saw a monster that wanted to see everyone in the world suffer.

Aurora seemed to have taken his pause as some kind of grief and grabbed his shoulder, "I know it probably is, but she's dead. Come on, I haven't seen you once speak to her son outside of class. Her legacy is in her castle, one of your own snakes. I know he looks like Potter, and you hated that ass, but I haven't heard of him bullying anyone. When I look at him, he reminds me of Lily."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered under his breath.

Yes, the Potter boy. He looked like a clone of his father, but the truth was that he acted like his mother. He could tell he was like her. It was in the eyes, you see. They held this cunning, this intelligence inside, that was hidden from the world. The boy was probably more brilliant than his mother, when it came to magic, but was very good at cultivating a good image of himself. He had even heard rumours that his invitation to the Court of Slytherin the following year was essentially guaranteed.

The boy who had survived the infamous fire of Godric's Hollow, a fire that Severus would bet anything was started by Lily. The arcane nature of the fire was just like her. She liked to experiment with her magic and her son seemed to share the same 'hobby'.

Yeah, an attack like the one in Godric's Hollow shouldn't have fazed Lily at all; the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. couldn't hold a candle to Lily. The rest were run-of-the-mill Death Eater grunts. Severus knew Lily's capabilities, especially when it came to warding. She would have had hundreds of escape scenarios, yet she chose to commit mass murder, killing herself in the process, only for the sake of her son's survival.

There was something else that Severus wasn't seeing, and he was waiting for the shoe to drop. And it all revolved around her son. Severus had tried to subtly antagonize the boy, to see any hidden motives. He tried to make him a pariah, but the boy didn't seem to care, and his friends still stood by his side, attracted by his brilliance. The Potion master had hoped to spare them the grief of having an Evans as a friend, but that didn't work.

Harry Potter was his mother's son, and that terrified Severus to the core.

"What?" the astronomy professor asked.

"Sorry, I was just lost in thought. You're right, I should move on. Please excuse me, there's a potion that I need to finish urgently for Poppy and my patrol is over."

Severus went down the stairs to the dungeons. He arrived at his lab, trying to do his best to not hyperventilate. He took a gulp of calming potion that he always had in hand. It has been a while since he actively thought about Lily. Damn, Aurora for bringing her up.

At least his useless patrol was over. There were more faculty than students currently in the castle. Any chance of the Heir of Slytherin striking before the end of the year was null. Severus was honestly tempted to just dose every resident of the castle with some Veritaserum and interrogate them. That would probably convince Dumbledore that the Heir wasn't in the castle, and Severus could spend his holidays in peace.

The Head of Slytherin hoped this issue would be resolved quickly and the idiot who petrified people to support this stupid blood-purity policy would be expelled promptly. But if that wasn't possible, he wouldn't mind seeing Dumbledore struggle for the first time.

After all, who wouldn't want to witness the suffering of a man who forced them into servitude at wand point?

---

AN:

Before you say anything, this will be the only firearm that will be in the entire story, and it's limited to only seven shots. The bullets will work like Flechette's arrows in Worm. There won't be any more bullets, so Harry will be hesitant to waste them, and I am not planning on adding any. I could have made it into a sword or something, but I wanted to have some kind of evidence of Harry's previous life influencing the weapon and add a limitation so he wouldn't spam it (the ammunition).

If you think it's overpowered, then you're probably right, it is, but it's for a reason. I'm planning something in the next year that might necessitate it. You'll see a hint of it at the end of the second year. It's also not foolproof. You can still miss and there are ways to circumvent the attack, but I won't go too much into it because that would be spoiling something in the future.

I also wanted to clarify that the physical bullets in the colt will not return to the gun. The concept is simple, When the bullets are charged with the properties of the soul fragment during the forging. They are unstoppable until they reach a soul to collapse, using the souls to traverse any dimension that might have life in it. Finally, when it reaches a soul, the collision kills the two souls with the momentum in a collision. Even if the physical bullet isn't destroyed, it will no longer have the properties of souls since it will only be a fragment of normal silver. The connection between the material and the goblin who made the goblin silver will die because of the eldritch nature of the two souls colliding, which pretty much renders the bullet into a useless piece of metal.

Harry also won't be able to use the other Horcruxes to forge more bullets since if you noticed, he was kind of hypnotized by the crest when he built the weapon, and he instinctively knew that there was a price to this kind of magic. I don't want to go into the specifics because that would be spoiling a lot about the magic system, just that there won't be any more bullets.