Potter, another… adequate potion." Snape sneered. Perfect more like. "Perhaps there is something in that empty head of yours." I just smile at him.
Potions was a delicate subject, but my improved vision and sensing had allowed me to watch and observe more accurately how the magic of certain ingredients interacted together. The subtle effects of clockwise turns verses anticlockwise. When the turns should occur, the effect a certain amount of ingredients would have.
More than just following instructions, I was gaining understanding. I had some experiments I'd like to try, potions I'd like to create… So much to do, not enough time.
Not yet anyway…
"Must run in the family. We Potters are known for our skill with potions." I run a hand through my hair, his left eye twitches. "Sirius said my father and mother were the best potioners in their year." Sirius said nothing of the sort, I know the effect the words will have however.
"Get out of my sight!" He snarls out, eyes glaring at me with hatred from behind his hooked nose.
"Gladly Professor."
I feel his eyes on me as I walk away, black and full of resentment. I pay it no mind, leaving the bat to his potions classroom, stepping out into the dungeons.
"Tired?"
"I'm fine." Is my response to Hermione's question. She doesn't seem to believe me. Is it that obvious?
I'm getting used to the strain but I'm not sure if it'll ever go away. The information was… You had to give something to gain though, so I wouldn't be complain.
"Here." She says, lifting a blindfold up and wrapping it around my eyes. She ties it tight and smoothens it out. If her hands linger for longer than necessary on my face, I make no mention of it.
"What was that about?" Ron asks, nodding to the classroom.
"Nothing really." Hermione and I step away from the door to join him and Neville. "For some reason my skill in his lessons displeases and annoys him."
"Everything annoys him." Neville begins, his face pinched in frustration. "He's annoyed when we follow his instructions, he's annoyed when we breathe, he's annoyed when—"
"To be fair mate, you did nearly blow up another cauldron."
"Argh, I told you that was Seamus." Neville says, his slightly sheepish look gives him away though.
"Right…" Ron turns his gaze onto us, "We all good? Cause I'm starving mate."
"You say that like it's a new development. When are you not?" Hermione questions him, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm a growing boy…" I chuckle and we begin to head to the great hall.
I deflect a stupefy, sidestepping an impendementa and then I'm forced to shield against a blasting charm, as well as two of the enlarged chess pieces he's sent hurling at me.
The shield holds, but the chess pieces continue to beat against it relentlessly. He's charmed them to dance. I feel and see the intent and he begins to send more spells flying, hoping to take advantage of his distraction.
"Very good." I dismantle the charm on the Rook and Bishop, not removing the Engorgio cast on them, I transfigure them into a spinning sheet of metal and use it to intercept the spells. It is left shredded and dented but it has done the job, a flick of my wand and it's discarded across the room.
Ron is panting, sweat dripping from his face. He stands behind two enlarged floating chess pieces, looking at any moment as if he'll pass out. I send a stunner and a disarming charm his way with a twitch of my wand, the two pieces, a battered king and queen, slam into place infront of him to block the spells. My lips quirk into a smile, his inspiration was clear.
"You did good Ron."
"Don't…" He forces the chess pieces to part, still panting, hands on his knees now, "don't patronise me mate."
I have to laugh, he gives me a tired look. "I'm not."
"I couldn't even land a hit on you." I go to speak—"I know-I know, incantations. I'm trying." And he was to be fair. He could perform most of the first and second year spells non verbally with little effort, but duelling took focus. I look to Hermione.
"You did well Ron, really. That was your best performance yet." She says, looking up from where she's perched, reading a book on Egyptian curses, having a charmed quill translate the words onto the parchment by her side.
"Hmm." He gets to his feet fully, still trying to catch his breath.
"The shield is alright, but as it takes damage it leaves debris everywhere, which your opponent can transfigure and use." I have his full attention, he nods, remembering when I did just that. "If you charmed it unbreakable, that would get rid of the debris problem but that's not something so easily done. You could transfigure it I suppose, but your transfiguration isn't the fastest and it'd split your focus… perhaps Runes to strengthen them?" He ponders it, considering how to further play to his strengths. Charms came easier to him, so charming it unbreakable, even if it was hard magic to perform could be the way to go.
"Runes might be easier." I say after a pause. "What electives are you thinking of choosing again?"
He looks to Hermione and then me. "You were thinking of taking all of them right? …Yeah we decided to do the same."
"Why would you do that?" The confusion is clear on my face. "Hermione I understand, but…"
"Harry, if we leave you alone for two seconds you end up doing something monumentally reckless." Ron says.
"I'm not that—"
"Yes you are." He and Hermione chorus together. My head wheels around to face her, she just smiles pleasantly. I sigh.
"You're not even interested in half of the courses. Muggle studies? Arithmancy? Divination?." He grins.
"They could come in handy, and Divination's meant to be an easy pass anyway." Not the point. "Plus, if it gets too much I can always drop some."
"Neville wouldn't—"
"It was his idea." Of course it was. The git. Ron's eyes glimmer with amusement, he seems to know my thoughts. I stop another sigh from escaping.
"Where is he anyway?" Ron shrugs.
"Professor sprout asked him to stay behind, she wanted him to help with the Mandrakes and chomping cabbages I think." Hermione answers, she closes the book and it vanishes.
"You ready?" She nods, stretching and beginning to stand.
"What are you…" Ron snaps his gaze between the two of us, confused. When Hermione pulls out her wand, comprehension dawns in his eyes. "No."
"Come on Ron, it'll be fine." Hermione sings, I conjure myself a seat.
"Why don't I believe it? Why are you smiling like that? Last time you—bloody hell!" The chess pieces, more like floating debris than King and Queen at this point, jump into to place to block Hermione's murmured Confringo.
"Sugar clusters." And the gargoyles spring apart. I continue up the stairs, unhurried, and then step into the headmaster's office. Much of the layout remains the same, with a few knick knacks having moved positions. My eyes slide over them and catch purchase the aged professor.
Extravagant robes as always, green this time, with little snitches flitting about. His head is dunked in what the unlearned would assume to be a simple cauldron.
"How long has he been like this?" I look up, directing my question to the portraits above.
"Oh a few hours or so." Dilys Derwent's portrait says. A soft looking woman with silver hair and kind eyes.
She spent quite a lot of time in her portrait at St Mungo's, as if still trying to heal the injuries and maladies that had brought people to the hospital.
"Did he tell you what you would be up to today my dear?" I felt the gaze of the other headmasters and headmistresses land on me, curious as well. I seemed to be entertainment to them. I wasn't surprised, life in a portrait must be quite boring.
"No," I make my way to Fawkes stand. I feel him, weaker but purier. He looks it too, his magic is more vibrant, having been reborn. "I'm sure it'll be interesting. Never a dull day with the professor."
"Indeed."
I run a finger over the baby Fawkes, feeling and observing his magic. He caws softly, rubbing his head against my finger. It's quiet for a while, I lose myself in the observation.
"Ah, it seems I've kept you waiting my boy." There's a sadness in his voice that even his superb Occlumency cannot hide.
"It's quite alright Professor." I turn back to him, making my way over to his desk. "Troubling memory?"
"I'm not surprised you know what this is." He offers me a chocolate frog as I sit. I accept it, biting its head off to stop it from wriggling. Herpo the Foul. I turn the card to face the Headmaster, his eyes gleam. Ah so he's figured it out then.
"You know Harry, I don't put much stock in Divination, but sometimes…" He shakes his head, "I figured it out my boy." He twitches the death stick and the portraits fall asleep. I know the answer of course.
"He made Horcruxes. Truly, truly vile magic." He continues, his disgust clear, eyeing Herpo's card.
"That's what's keeping him alive I'm guessing."
"Yes my boy. A soul anchor essentially." He says, repulsed.
"So he placed parts of his soul into certain objects, and I'm assuming if they aren't destroyed, he's effectively immortal. Could he have just placed them into random objects?" As any rational person would.
"No… No I don't believe so." He pauses, pondering, "The soul is a reflection of the body and mind, and vice versa. Together, they make part of one's identity. The body houses the soul, and if one were to split it and tried to force it into a new home… the soul might reject it if the identity was too dissimilar or if the item was not of sufficient importance to the castor and his identity. Many have died attempting the creation."
I turn it over in my head.
The diary, something to pour one's thoughts, one's identity, into as they stepped into a brand new world. Kept as a sole confident during Riddles Hogwart's years.
The ring, gaunts, family, identity.
The locket, an heirloom of Slytherin, a beloved ancestor from whom the ability to speak to snakes comes.
Niagini, snake, obvious.
Harry Potter, accidental but his killing would have proven the identity he had chosen, as all powerful, even capable of defying fate and prophecy.
The diadem and the cup though… the link was weak. He chose them to embarrass the other founders, proving Slytherin stronger, that his blood, that he Lord Voldemort, was better. Huh, I suppose the link wasn't that weak. He probably planned to use the sword of Gryffindor as one too. It fits.
"Though I admit, magic of this nature is not my expertise."
"I'd be worried if it was." I see a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Even if my hypothesis is incorrect, I know Lord Voldemort, I know Tom Riddle, he would never place a part of his precious soul in something he deemed to be worthless." Though he says it with his usual confidence and pleasantness, it rings slightly hollow. I can tell he's not as confident as he'd have me believe. He needn't worry though.
I nod my head up to the tattered diary. "I think your hypothesis is good headmaster. How many times do you reckon would be too much? How much before the soul couldn't take anymore?"
"Once would be my answer to your first question my boy." He sigh, deep and weary. "But we are talking about Lord Voldemort here. He does not see or does not care, that this is truly horrific magic… You have destroyed two… perhaps… Perhaps there are no more. A three part soul, the arithmancy would suggest it be stable enough, unfathomable to us but maybe… Without more information, there is no way for us to know for sure."
"Surely," I pause, meeting blue with glowing green, "a seven part soul would be stronger, more stable…" He tugs at his beard, lost in thought.
"I would never have fathomed…" He seems to sink into himself, as if he's come a decision he'd rather not have made. "I will continue to study Tom as I have been, perhaps if he has made more, I will be able to divine their locations. But, and as much as it pains me to put you at risk, your senses are sharper than mine my boy. If I find a location that may hold one of these dreadful items, I'd like for you to accompany me."
"Of course Headmaster." I nod. His demeanour still remains subdued. Quite unlike his usual self, and though he obviously felt guilty for not stopping Tom during his education, I felt like this deep sadness was for another reason.
"Is that what you were using the pensive for Professor? Studying him?"
"Amongst other things. Looking back at my memories of him drew me back to my many other failures." He sighs. "I've told you about my brother yes?"
"Aberforth." He hums in agreement.
"I don't believe I mentioned that I had a sister too. Ariana. A sweet little thing." He says wistfully. "She died when we were young."
"How did she…" I begin to ask.
"…Have you ever heard of an Obscurial Harry?" At my nod, he continues. Telling me of the muggle boys, the trauma they caused and the murders his father committed. He speaks of the anger he felt at having to put his world tour on hold after his mother's death. He makes no mention of Grindlewald.
"My mind cannot help but drift back to that time, to how selfish and arrogant I truly was. I can never forgive myself." He says. There's nothing I can say that will relieve his pain. But I can not let him wallow in it either.
"A wise man once told me… that it doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. You can't change what happened Professor. You've been doing your best since then and the world is better because of you. I think you should take pride in that. I'm proud to have you as a teacher, as a Headmaster and as a friend." He chuckles, I pretend not to notice as his eyes grow a bit wet.
"Using my own words against me Harry… Thank you my boy."
We sit in silence for while. My eyes move over the room cluttered room, filled with books and all manner of things. The silence comes to a close when I see the beginnings of twinkling.
"She was right you know Harry, your eyes…" He says, swelling importantly. "They are, 'as green as a fresh pickled toad'."
Fucking Lockhart.
"Seriously Professor?" He chuckles.
"Oh it's not so bad Harry, Miss Weasley tried her best." He removes the sleeping charm from the portraits. "How did your friends react?"
"Ron was stuck between being embarrassed for me and laughing as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen."
"Hmm, apart from that, I sure your Valentine's Day went well?" He asks raising an eyebrow.
Spending time with a half-Veela in Venice? Yes I suppose it went quite well. I smile at him in response, he mirrors it.
"Now, last time you had a question on King Midas and Chrysopeia…"
"Hello Gilderoy."
"Harry! Merlin, you gave me a fright." He turns around, eyes wide, panting, placing a hand on his chest. "What can I do for you my boy?" He asks, beaming.
"Well—" I'm interrupted before I can even begin.
"You wanted to thank me right? For all the help I've given you this year. Your examination, well let's just say you passed—" Obviously "—All thanks to my splendid teaching." I laugh, because he says it with a straight face, because this fool actually believes that my success is due to him. I pity those who had to take O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts under this man.
"No, that's not why I'm here." I turn my eyes around the classroom, Lockhart's face stares at me from every side. I cast a locking charm on the door. "I figured it out."
"Figured what out Harry?" He asks, blue eyes glimmering with confusion. There's a spark of annoyance to at my laughter too.
"You're a fraud. You've never done any of the things in your books. You've just been taking credit for what others have done. Hell, I don't think you'd be able to tie your own laces without direction."
"Rude." He sighs, shaking his head. He leans back on his desk, the life sized portrait behind him looks over his head and smiles at me. The 'Professor' on the other hand gives me a look of disapproval.
"It's not nearly as simple as that dear boy. There was work involved you see. I had to track these people down. Ask them how exactly they did what they did, the entire process of it. Then I had to place a memory charm on them afterwards so they wouldn't remember what they did." He says simply, as if there's no issue with it.
"And you don't regret it? Ruining those people's lives I mean." I knew the answer, I just wanted him to say it.
"No of course not. Fame isn't all book signings and bedding witches you know. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty." He looks at me as if I've just asked a particularly stupid question. He pulls out his wand, I see the intent building. "Awfully sorry about this Harry but I'm going to have to place a memory charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing now can I? I'd never sell another book…" I summon his wand from his grasp wandlessly. There's no resistance, he's a weak wizard. It lands in my left hand, his face is shocked.
"Hey!—" I pay him no mind, listening to the wand. Cherry. I feel the strength of the core, Dragon Heartstring. It'll work for me it says, it doesn't care about Lockhart. I look him in the eye and snap it, the wand sings no more.
"What have you done?" He cries, falling to his knees, eyes on the wand that lays at my feet, now split in two.
"Gilderoy," I begin softly, coming to a stop in front of him. He looks up at me, rage breeding. "I knew you were a fraud since the beginning, I knew how you wrote your books, how you got your information. I know everything there is to know, I probably know you better than you know yourself. But I thought perhaps you'd have some remorse, so I asked you the question. You had none…"
He wants to struggle, to strain, to try and get up so he can attack me for what I've done. But his body doesn't obey him, doesn't answer his commands. He grows horrified.
"Professor Dumbledore brought you here, not just because nobody else wanted the job but because he knew two of your victims. He wanted the curse to take care of you. But it can be unpredictable you see, with the worst outcome being death, but that's too good for you. No, it's too simple. I thought of something more fitting."
14 and a 1/2 inches of power falls into my palm. Lockhart, though stupid, has gleaned what I'm about to do. You won't get away with this, his mind screams, horrified.
"Oh, but I will. Even if the spell doesn't take, and it will, don't you worry about that, I am Harry Potter and you are Gilderoy Lockhart. I'll tell them you attacked me, tried to Obliviate me after I figured out the truth but managed to mess that up. After your abysmal teaching this year, who do you think people are going to believe?" I give him a smile, releasing the petrifying charm.
I bring the wand up, sinking into his mind at the same time. There is a flash of white, a terrified scream and Gilderoy Lockhart ceases to be.
I breathe the word and Fiendfyre flares to life with a roar of hatred and the need for wanton destruction. Instantly, the pressure from the spell tries to slam into my mind, to overwhelm it. An Albatross forms from the sea of flames, turning on its self, swooping and aiming for me.
I bring all I am to bear and crash my will down against the spell, it struggles, refusing to yield. Fighting and raging. It buckles though, the pressure of my will forcing it into submission. The albatross turns away, splashing harmlessly at the chamber walls and then joining the rest of the flames.
The fire was mutating, filled with raw aggression and the desire for flesh. A fiery pack of flaming beasts, formed of crimson flames, burning white hot in the centre. Flaming Dragons, Phoenixes, Thestrals, Basilisks, fell and rose and fell again. Fighting each other, fighting the damp air of the Chamber of Secrets, fighting me.
I don't let my concentration slip, the inferno is still alive and resisting, I continue to force my weight upon it, even as I feed it more of my magic. The flames grow angrier, hotter, larger, still I give them no quarter.
An orchestra is created, beasts directed all around me, I turn the flames, fanning them. creating a firestorm with me at the centre. All previous moisture in the air is gone, leaving it dry and filled with unbearable heat. A Hippogriff tries to take flight towards me, I crush it against the ground before it can lift off.
The demon fire would never stop fighting, always aiming to kill the castor and all around. I do not let it. Even more so than controlling, it was said that the hardest part was extinguishing the spell. Something which could not be accomplished by lesser wizards. I am not them.
Me, who was chosen by fate and the stars, I could never be lesser.
Fiendfyre fights relentlessly against my command, not wishing to be extinguished. I remember my agony in this very chamber. I remember the pain I was able to suffer. I slam my mind into the flames even more viciously. And in the face of an indomitable will, the hell fire can do nothing but whimper and yield, vanishing with one last flare and shriek.
Down in the Chamber, the only sound left is my breathing.
"You'll keep in touch won't you?"
"Of course he will Hermione." Nev replies, I feel his pointed glance. "No excuse this time." He finishes with a grin. I feel my lips quirk up.
Ron thumbs the silver ring, ornate, his with a Red gem stone atop it. One of four. Gems each a different colour. Emerald for me, Periwinkle for Hermione, Blue for Neville.
I had spent the year enchanting them, using Fleur's locket for observation, destroying and recreating the rings until it was as I desired.
We could have used any old piece of jewellery but the rings could be passed off as simple friendship rings. One just had to think it, and it would connect to the chosen ring. Once the other answered, silver smoke would rise from the ring, taking the form of whoever you wanted to speak to.
"You act as if I chose to ignore you guys."
"All I'm saying is that, the house elf story sounds mighty convenient." Ron's grin is Cheshire. He deflects my stinging hex into the roof of the train carriage.
"Ron." Hermione tuts. She casts a repero.
"He started it! Surely you didn't want me to just let it hit me." He says with a laugh. Hermione looks at me, seeing my smile, she just huffs and turns away. I see a ghost of a smile on her face in the window.
"Who do you think will teach defence next year?" Neville asks, transfiguring a paper plane into cushion and then placing Trevor on it with a sticking charm.
"Anyone will be better than Lockhart." Hermione replies, summoning a book from her bag as she does so. She leans her head on my shoulder.
"Hmm we said that about Quirrell last year." Ron says, looking at me. Still not over that are we? "I suppose at least he's not dead like Quirrell."
"Life in St Mungos isn't much better mate." Neville reminds him.
The topic brings my mind to Voldemort and the diadem. I could have destroyed it with Fiendfyre but that would have left nothing but ashes behind. I could have destroyed it with one of the fangs too but…
Showing up with three horcruxes in one year, in the headmaster's office would prove a little suspicious I think. I'd show it to Dumbledore in the new term before destroying it , just so he could be sure that Voldemort's soul was in more than three parts and his theory on important objects was correct.
The train continues to chug along, my mind turns to the summer. I'd have to spend a few weeks at the Dursleys, the Professor thought that was still the safest place for me, even if he had seen that the wards were weakening quicker than expected. That was alright though.
A few weeks at Little Whinging and then back to Grimmauld Place.