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Hary Potter Squib Tales Chapter 54: Newspapers and Snakeskin
🕑 Added 2024-10-20 16:02:00 +0000 UTCChapter 54: Newspapers and Snakeskin
“Ooo! Listen to this one!” Sirius giggled before reading aloud an article from a magazine. “‘Madam Bones was seen at the Rosewater in the presence of Remus Lupin! Does the tight-laced Director of Magical Law Enforcement have a new paramour? And if so, does she like them wild and dangerous?’”
“Please stop,” Remus begged, but that only caused his friend and roommate to laugh harder and read more from the latest issue of Witch Weekly, the premiere magazine for magical ladies.
Remus had thought nothing would happen after the meeting with the director. At least not for a few days, at least, as she looked into Sirius Black’s trial, or lack of it. But it seemed some people had been snooping, and hadn’t hesitated to gossip about it.
And thus his ‘illicit rendezvous with a secret lover’ had been plaster all over the gossip-filled rag during its next issue.
“At least no one will suspect what you two were actually talking about,” I snickered, watching as Remus shot me a glare. I just grinned back, and he huffed before looking away.
“Why are you here?” he instead demanded of Sirius. The disguised felon just waved the magical magazine cheekily in response.
Remus and I had been in my office going over ways to integrate new werewolves into the team, as well as coming up with ways to work with the non-humans I wanted to bring onboard, when Sirius had barged in, magazine in hand. He’d then conjured a chair and begun teasing his old friend by reading aloud from the articles within.
“Well, now that you’ve had your ‘fun,’ you can go,” Remus said, gesturing impatiently towards the door.
“I’m going somewhere with this, I swear!” Sirius claimed. “What we should do is buy up as much control of the newspapers as possible!”
“Besides the Daily Prophet, there’s really only the Quibbler,” I pointed out. “There are magazines such as Quidditch Monthly and Witch Weekly, certainly, but unless you think we should start up our own newspaper – which actually isn’t a bad idea – we don’t have the capital necessary to purchase controlling shares.”
“Nah, we don’t need to do that,” Sirius scoffed.
“And how exactly would you go about doing this plan of yours?” Remus wondered.
“Nine families own the Daily Prophet, with the Ministry of Magic owning ten percent as well,” Sirius replied. “The Blacks are one of these nine families. When my name is cleared, I’ll be able to claim another ten percent, and maybe even a third! I’d then own thirty percent of it!”
“How?” I asked enviously.
“The Lestranges owned ten percent. But they’re all in Azkaban or dead,” Sirius replied. “See, the Blacks used to control a full thirty percent. And that ten percent the Lestranges have was darling Bella’s dowry. If their family died or something caused the dowry to be rescinded, however? Well, then it would default back to the House of Black. Aka, me.”
“And let me guess, the other family the Blacks gave ten percent to was the Malfoys via Narcissa’s dowry?” I inquired.
“Bingo,” Sirius winked. “Won’t be easy to get it back from Lucius’ slimy fingers, but the shares technically still belong to House Black. They’re just owned by Narcissa and held in trust. Lucy-boy just controls what happens with them and the money they make thanks to being her husband. Aren’t archaic and patriarchal codes of law great?”
“I guess you could disown Narcissa, meaning the Black shares would revert back to your control, though you’d need a good excuse to do something like that,” I mused thoughtfully.
“I have a few ideas,” Sirius said with a dark smirk.
“And how does this lead to use getting our hands on Witch Weekly?” Remus asked, wishing for his friend to hurry up and get to the point.
“Right, well, fifty percent of Witch Weekly is owned by the Potters, thanks in part to Lily’s clever money managing ideas,” Sirius informed us, and I blinked. I hadn’t known that!
“Witch Weekly isn’t just read in the UK, either,” I muttered, seeing where he was going with this! “It’s sold across the Americas and Europe as well. It has a much higher reader count than the Prophet, so if we wanted, we could use it to influence all kinds of people’s opinions!”
We could use it to start making a difference in the wizarding world, which was usually so slow and resistant to change!
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sirius confirmed. “Harry probably won’t be able to do much with it just yet, but when he turns seventeen, he’ll have full control over the Potter assets.”
“Clever,” Remus muttered. “And even if Harry doesn’t have much say in how the magazine is run, I’m sure a ‘suggestion’ or two from him would still be followed if only because he’s the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“He’s normally pretty shy and hesitant regarding his fame, but I think he’d be fine if it’s used to do some good in the world,” I mused, and the other two nodded in agreement. “Well, I guess we’re writing to Harry about that, then.”
Another idea struck me. “And I think I’ll start investing in the Quibbler as well,” I said aloud. “I could probably get ten, maybe twenty percent since there aren’t really any other investors queuing up. And I know the Lovegoods. They trust me.”
‘And then, between Sirius, Harry, and myself, we’d control a significant chunk of Wizarding Britain’s media!’ I thought to myself, seeing this as an absolutely good thing.
“Not a bad idea,” Sirius agreed, and Remus nodded slowly. They could also see the benefits of this as well as I could.
I’d have to send an owl to Xeno and Pandora as soon as possible in order to get on top of this. I really think things were starting to go well for us!
111 &&& 111
Harry POV
‘Things are not looking good,’ Harry thought to himself as he sat in the Gryffindor common room.
When he’d returned to Hogwarts from Winter break, everyone had been on edge. Nearly Headless Nick's and Collin Creevy’s petrification was on everyone’s mind, and Mr. Filch had been a lot worse leading up to the Winter hols due to Miss Norris’ current state as well.
Yet when he had gone to Madam Pomfry and handed over five vials of Mandrake Draught – three for Collin, Nick, and Miss Norris, two for emergencies – people had noticed.
A lot of students who’d been saying that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin had changed their tune after that. Even Filch had been effusive in his thanks, and Collin had ended up following Harry around like a baby duck. Or a leech, as Fred and George had joking called it at one point.
Some, unfortunately, doubled-down, thinking that Harry had been the one to petrify the two and use the Mandrake Draught as some sort of way to get clout by acting like a savior. But those people had been arseholes already and nobody really listened to them anymore, either.
Of course, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Susan, and Hannah had been aghast when he’d told them Edward’s suggestion about what had caused the petrification in the first place. None had wanted to believe him. But he managed to wear them down and win them over. Hermione had been the first to cave. And with that, the other four found themselves unable to deny the logic behind it.
‘Not that the teachers listened to my warnings,’ Harry thought bitterly. McGonagall had tutted and shooed him off, Flitwick had been intrigued by the idea but ultimately dismissive, and Lockheart had just laughed and gone off on a tangent about the time he’d fought a basilisk himself and saved a village in Uruguay from its predation.
Needless to say, Harry was not happy that none of the professors were listening to him. Again. Sadly, the petrification had caused the victims to loose their memories. They didn't remember anything from an hour before they were petrified. Not even Nick! Which was very odd seeing as he was ghost and thus didn't have a brain, but magic was weird.
The next oddity had been during Valentine’s Day. He’d gotten a bunch of cards. Delivered by surly dwarves in pink, red, and white uniforms, but cards all the same.
The only people he knew personally whose cards he’d gotten were Hannah, Susan, Ginny and Luna. The former and latter had done so out of friendship. Susan and Ginny had both been… mushy in their words. It made Harry blush and feel tingly in his stomach. He ignored those feelings, however.
Yet there had been one card he’d received. It’d been unsigned, but that wasn’t unusual. A lot of the card’s he’d gotten from the dwarven cupids hadn’t had names on them. But this wasn’t a love letter. Instead, it was a warning. Or maybe a threat?
‘Stay away!’ Somebody had scrawled in blood. ‘They’re all dead, and you’re next!’
The next morning, it was announced that all of Hagrid’s roosters had been killed, immediately making Harry and his friends extremely suspicious.
‘The only real weakness of the Basilisk was the crowing of a rooster,’ he mused. It drove home his theory about Slytherin’s Monster being the infamous King of Serpents. Whoever had summoned it was killing off the only things that could reasonably stop it.
So, here he was, sitting and thinking about who could have sent him that ominous letter while also listening to Ron and Hermione argue about how to sneak into the Slytherin common room to snoop around for answers.
And yes, they weren’t arguing about if they should do it, but how. It was honestly kinda funny.
“Polyjuice potion is undetectable and would let us mingle with the Slytherins far more easily if we’re wearing one of their faces,” Hermione said.
“Two words: Invisibility Cloak,” Ron retorted, and Harry smirked as he cut off Hermione’s argument at the knees. “It would be a lot easier to sneak in that way. Besides, you just want to try and brew a higher-level potion like Polyjuice because you think it’d be ‘educational.’”
“Well, so what!” Hermione huffed. “Pretending to be a Slytherin would make it easier to ask questions and blend in!”
“We’d still need to find out what their password is before we could even enter, regardless,” Neville pointed out. He sat next to Harry, listening to the other two argue.
“It’s probably something dumb, like ‘Pureblood,’” Ron scoffed. Harry nodded.
“You’re probably right about that,” he agreed. “The Slytherins don’t seem to be very cunning for a house that supposedly endorses that virtue.”
“Plus, Polyjuice won’t let us know how to act like the person we’re impersonating,” Neville added. “We’d be caught out instantly if we start doing things out of character from them.”
“Why don’t we just ask somebody, then?” Harry suggested.
“I don’t they any Slytherins would just tell us what the password is,” Hermione frowned.
“No, I meant, why don’t we ask a Slytherin if they know anything?” Harry said. Seeing his friend’s faces scrunch up at that, he continued, “Not all of them are like Draco. I think one or two would be might be willing to help us.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ron replied, unsure.
“Why don’t we try that first before we start plotting ways to sneak into the dungeons,” Harry offered. “And if it doesn’t work, we can just follow some Slytherins into their common room while using the cloak.”
“Alright, fine,” Hermione sighed, while Ron grinned as his infiltration idea was selected.
“Who should we ask first?” Neville wondered.
“Daphne Greengrass,” Harry said after thinking it over. Neville frowned, but nodded.
“Ah, I see. She isn’t part of Malfoy’s clique at all. Makes sense she’d be the Slytherin most likely to hear us out.”
Mind made up, the four of them decided to track her down tomorrow. Which they did, finding her alone with two other people in the library.
“Daphne, can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry asked. Quietly, of course. This was the library, after all, and Madam Pince had ears like a bat!
“Why?” Tracy Davis, Daphne’s friend? Hanger-on? demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the quartet as they walked over. The other person was a younger girl who looked almost identical to Daphne. Her sister, Harry guessed.
“We wanted to ask some questions,” Harry explained. “Nothing bad. We’re not here to start any fight.”
“If it makes you leave us in peace quicker, fine,” Daphne sighed, standing up. She led Harry into the shelves, away from her friend and sister, although the latter had stood up and followed along.
“Astoria, can you give us some privacy?” Daphne requested when she noticed they had a tagalong. Her sister didn’t respond and just continued to stare at Harry.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Astoria said softly, looking at Harry with unfocused eyes. He frowned at that, but before he could ask her what she meant, she turned and ran off.
“I’m sorry about that,” Daphne muttered, a pink tinge on her cheeks. “Astoria is rather shy, and rather protective of me. Even though I often think it should be the other way around.”
“Right,” Harry said, nodding like he understood what she was talking about.
“What did you want to ask me?” Daphne inquired, switching topics.
“Do have any idea about who might be the one behind the petrifications of last year?” Harry asked, and she frowned.
“Why are you looking into this?” she said, answering my question with another question.
“Because I’m curious,” Harry replied. “And I’m worried.”
“Well, it’s not Malfoy,” she informed him with a scoff. “No matter how he might crow about hoping for the attacks to continue.”
“I figured as much,” Harry admitted. “Draco isn’t exactly… subtle.”
“No he is not,” Daphne agreed with a laugh. She then turned serious. “I can’t think of any others who might know anything. Most of the upper years aren’t very powerful or influential. If they were the heir, they’d be trying to make alliances or bargains with the other students to solidify their positions. And so far, I’ve noticed nothing out of the ordinary regarding that sort of thing. Just the usual politicking.”
“Sounds very cutthroat,” the Boy-Who-Lived muttered.
“Is that not how it works in Gryffindor?” Daphne asked.
“No, I don’t think anyone in my house has the patience for that kind of stuff,” Harry snorted, before shrugging. “Alright, thank you for your help. Let me know if you do hear anything. Oh, and keep an ear out for people who are hissing.”
“Hissing?” Daphne uttered. “What like you? You think the heir is a Parseltongue as well?”
“They’d have to be, in order to control the Basilisk,” Harry replied, causing Daphne to splutter in disbelief.
“WHAT?!” she shrieked, before clamping a hand over her mouth. Madam Pince didn’t materialize from the shadows to shush them, so Daphne eventually just glared at Harry.
“What?” she asked, quieter this time.
“I figured out that Slytherin’s Monster is likely a Basilisk,” Harry explained. “Normally their gaze is instantly lethal, but reflections, like from the puddle of water in the corridor or the lens of Collin’s camera, prevented them from dying, petrifying them instead. Plus, the recent death of all the roosters, and I think you can see where I’m coming from.”
“That’s… no, but…” Daphne uttered in disbelief, before shaking her head. “Your theory is wild.”
“Maybe. But I’m pretty sure I’m right. And, I mean, what else would Salazar Slytherin use as a monster to protect the school?”
Daphne hissed something in annoyance, but nodded. “Fine, you may have a point,” she admitted. “I will keep an eye and ear out for anything… odd.”
“Great! And just so you know, I don’t want to be enemies with everyone in Slytherin,” Harry said, assuring her. “Just the morons like Draco. I prefer to have a live and let live policy.”
“I see,” Daphne said slowly. “You know, my father wanted me to get close to you this year.”
“He did?” Harry blinked.
“Yes. He was even more insistent of it when we came home for Christmas.” She then stuck out a hand. “Fine. We can be acquaintances for now.”
“It’s a start,” Harry chuckled, shaking her hand. The two then made their way back to their friends.
The rest of the day was normal, and the rest of the week also proceeded without incident. But there was a nagging feeling Harry just couldn’t shake at all. So, when he was woken up unceremonious on the first of March, his gut was telling him something was very wrong.
“Wake up! Harry! Wake up!”
“Huh? Whuh?” Harry exclaimed, sitting up in bed in a daze. He fished for his glasses, and when he found and put them on, he saw Hermione, along with the other Gryffindor girls, shaking Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ron awake.
“What’s going on?” Ron demanded with a groan.
“Somebody else was petrified!” Hermione said nervously.
“What? Who?” Neville asked, now much more awake.
Hermione bit her lip. “Ron… it was Percy.”
“WHAT?!” Ron exclaimed, shooting up in bed in disbelief.
“Him and Penelope Clearwater,” Lavender added. “They were on patrol with the other prefects last night, and were both together when it happened.”
“Are they alright?” Harry asked worriedly.
“Yes, they are fine. They were found this morning by Filch, and Madam Pomfry is going to be administering the Mandrake Draught very soon,” Sally-Anne assured them. Harry and Ron both sagged in relief.
‘Thank God and Merlin Edward had me bring those extra vials,’ Harry thought, glad for the foresight. Not to mention it was also at the very end of their shelf life. Another day or two, and the potions would have become spoiled and unusable.
“How did it happen? And where?” Seamus asked nervously.
“It was on the second floor, near the Arithmancy classroom,” Padma said.
“Wait, was it near those big, really reflective windows?” Harry asked. “The ones that look over the southern lawn?”
“Uh, yes, I think so,” the Indian twin said after thinking it over.
“Damn, another point for my theory,” he muttered.
“Hmm? What theory?” Sally-Anne asked him.
“Harry thinks that culprit for the attacks was a Basilisk,” Ron said, immediately causing a minor bit of panic.
When Harry and his friends finally managed to calm everyone down and explain their reasoning, the rest of the Gryffindor Second Years were looking nervous.
“It does make sense,” Kellah murmured.
“Yeah, Slytherin could speak to snakes. What other kinda monster would he use?” Lavender mused, unknowingly echoing Harry’s earlier comment to Daphne.
“How do we stop it?” Dean asked worriedly.
“Well, for now, I think we should all start carrying hand mirrors,” Hermione offered. “Since it seems that a Basilisk’s deadly gaze only petrifies when seen through reflections. If we check where we’re going from now on using mirrors, we’ll be safe.”
“There’s also a spell that conjures a mirror, and another that makes surfaces turn reflective,” she added. “We need to look into those more. And spread the word to the rest of the students about how to avoid a Basilisk’s stare.”
“But what happens if it does petrify us?” Padma asked nervously. “Won’t it just eat us?”
“It didn’t eat any of the other people so far,” Harry pointed out. “So maybe it can’t eat prey that’s been petrified.”
“Please don’t call them ‘prey,’” Neville groaned, looking nauseous.
“Well, let’s go alert the rest of the Gryffindors, first,” Harry said. “We can warn the other Houses at breakfast.”
The Second Years all nodded, and they split up, making their way to the other dorms to wake up and alert the rest of the house.
It wasn’t long before the common room was filled to bursting with chattering Gryffindors, wondering why they’d been dragged out of bed.
“Oi! Listen up!” Harry shouted, getting everyone’s attention. “Two more people got petrified last night! Some may already have heard this, but Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater both were attacked!”
This caused a second wave of murmuring. This time, Harry had the Weasley Twins quiet everyone down with some homemade fireworks.
“Do not worry! They’re now fine! Madam Pomfry has probably given them the Mandrake Draught by now!” As relieved whispers filled the air, Harry quickly dashed their spirits. “But just because they’re fine now, doesn’t mean this won’t happen again! So we need to go over protective measures!”
“How can we protect ourselves if we don’t even know what’s causing this?!” somebody demanded.
“Because we do know what’s happening!” Harry stated. “It’s a Basilisk!”
And once more, he had to lay out why he thought this was the case, and how to fend off it’s deadly vision. The Gryffindors shared concerned and skeptical looks with each other. Was Harry right? Was it possible?
“If it really is a Basilisk, how do we know you’re not the one controlling it?!” Cormac McLaggen, someone who’d been very vocal about his dislike of Harry from the moment it’d been revealed he was a Parselmouth, demanded.
“I have no idea how to prove a negative,” Harry shot back. “If you think I’m the one controlling the Basilisk, go ahead and do so. But I’m trying to keep everyone safe! And when breakfast starts, I’m telling the rest of the school this exact same thing!”
Cormac scoffed and looked away, but most of the room seemed to be on Harry’s side on this.
When the Gryffindors descended from their dorm to get to breakfast, it was as a sea of red and gold, everyone traveling together to the Great Hall. Safety in numbers and all that.
Naturally, this raised a lot of eyebrows from the students from the other houses who were already there. Once everyone had finished trickling in and after the food appeared on the tables, Harry had Fred and George draw everyone’s attention with some more fireworks.
Before McGonagall could bluster her way over and scold the twins for their antics, Harry jumped up onto the table itself, which had his elderly Head of House choking in disbelief.
“LISTEN UP!” Harry shouted, voice amplified by a Sonorous, courtesy of a 6th year. “Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater were petrified last night!”
Shock and disbelief rippled through the seated students, while the teachers looked none too pleased by him revealing this. But perhaps the most stunned were the Slytherins. The heir had said his enemies would suffer, but if it was true, why had a pureblood and a half-blood been the next victims? Draco was arguing that it was because they were blood traitors, but nobody was really listening to him, too focused on Harry.
“But don’t worry! I know how we can protect ourselves from the Basilisk!”
Once more chaos erupted, and Harry had to scream all of the evidence for its existence, as well as the secrets to escaping death via snake-stare. When he was done, nobody looked happy, for various reasons.
“Mr. Potter, surely you don’t think anyone would believe such a ludicrous claim?” Professor Snape asked with a sneer.
“He is right, my boy. A Basilisk in Hogwarts? There is simply no evidence of that being the case,” Dumbledore chided. “How could something like that possibly be hidden in Hogwarts for all this time without anyone knowing?”
“Magic, duh,” Harry scoffed. “If you can make a bag bigger on the inside, why not be able to do the same to a room? And if there are spells to hide things from view, again, why not apply them to, say, a chamber to make it hidden? A Chamber of Secrets, if you will. Surely something like that would be more than possible for one of the Founders?”
He then folded his arms. “As for keeping the Basilisk itself docile, we learn how to make a Draught of Living Death in Sixth Year potions class. A cauldron or two of the stuff could probably knock out a giant magical snake and keep it asleep until needed, thus removing the burden of feeding and caring for it.”
His words echoed through the Great Hall which had turned deathly silent, everyone paying rapt attention to him now. To his glee, most of the teachers were starting to look convinced as well. Not completely, but they were now questioning things on their own.
“It would explain why the roosters were all killed,” Hagrid mumbled to himself, although as usual his idea of speaking softly meant it was audible to everyone in the room, especially with how quiet it was.
“Hmm. We shall have to see if the spiders start acting odd once the weather begins to warm up,” Professor Kettleburn mused aloud. “Spiders flee in terror at the mere presence of a Basilisk, after all.”
“Oh, so that’s why Aragog been so upset lately,” Hagrid hummed, intrigued. That seemed to cause the teachers to all gain worried looks. Whoever ‘Aragog’ was, him being afraid was clearly not a good thing.
Harry just nodded smugly, glad to see some people were starting to use their brains and think things over.
“Remember!” he said aloud, drawing attention back to him. “Reflective surfaces beat the Basilisk’s stare! Do not, under any circumstances, look at it directly. Carry a mirror with you, and learn spells that might help as well!”
And with his speech delivered, Harry got off the table and sat down, ignoring the looks being sent his way as he dug into his food. Who knew shouting at people worked up such an appetite?
