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From Hogwarts To Olympus: A Demigod's Odyssey Ch.2
🕑 Added 2023-08-31 18:30:01 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 2- Into the Basilisk's Den
AN: Chapter two of, hopefully, four that I'm going to post today. Hope you enjoy!
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May 29th, 2006
Hogwarts was in a disarray.
Hidden beneath the cover of his Cloak, Harry warily observed the castle’s inhabitants, slowly making his way out of the Dungeons.
Students everywhere whispered with a gravity rarely shown by their age. Even Slytherins, who’d at first taken pride in his skill, now looked at him with accusing eyes. Two hands fell two too short to count the senior students who’d come to him till now—all demanding to know if he truly was the Heir, and if so, to cease the attacks immediately.
The number of students he’d sent to Madam Pomfrey this year alone must’ve surpassed the tally of Quidditch injuries by a large margin. It wasn’t until the news of Hermione lying petrified in the Hospital Wing spread that the rest of the school stopped hounding him every step of the way.
Though he didn’t blame them. Before McGonagall delivered the good news, even Harry was convinced the school would be shut down.
Now though, they'd been given a ray of hope. The mandrake Potions would soon be made, and the petrified students would be healed. He didn’t really care for the others; as long as Hermione was safe, he wouldn’t shed a tear more.
But the Heir needed to go.
Stepping out of the Dungeons, Harry quickly made his way up the Grand Staircase, heading straight for the Hospital Wing. By now, the rest of the school was confined within their Common Rooms, leaving him free to wander about under his invisibility Cloak. Plus, Madam Pomfrey never refused him a visit; he’d secured himself a soft spot in her heart after his tenth consecutive time of greeting her premises in his first few months at Hogwarts.
That being said, he would rather avoid roaming alone in the castle at all, especially in times like these; if he and Hermione were right about the creature, he could die by simply staring it in the eyes. It wasn’t an unpleasant way to go, he supposed, but he’d come to rather like his life recently. Cutting it short before he even had his first kiss would be too disappointing.
Hurrying his pace, Harry flew up the last few steps past the Staff room, arriving in front of the Hospital Lobby, his hand finally loosening the hold on his wand.
Just as he’d finished shoving the Cloak off of his head—bundling it into a small ball—the Matron of the Wing bustled out of her room as if magically summoned, her stern face greeting him welcome.
“Mr. Potter?” She looked annoyed for some reason, a frown making its way up her face as she noticed no one behind him. “This is a very bad time for you to be here alone.”
“I know!” Harry nodded quickly, showing as much sincerity as he could. “And I apologise. But please, Madam Pomfrey, I just have to see—”
“Oh, do save your excuses.” She waved him in impatiently. “It doesn’t really matter, what with two of your classmates here already. Go on in then, just don’t leave here alone. I’ll have Professor Sprout escort you three back.” She disappeared away in her room as quickly as she’d come.
Harry frowned at the mention of others, but promptly shook it off, entering the Hospital Wing.
Hermione’s bed was second from the last; on his way, he could see the rest of the petrified students lying on their own beds, their limbs paused in awkward angels, as if time itself had halted for them.
It wasn’t a comforting sight.
Voices from the back refocused his attention, and suddenly Harry began feeling a very bad premonition.
“What’re we going to do?” The male voice whispered in nervous excitement. “Should we go straight to McGonagall?”
“Let’s go to the staffroom.” The female voice answered. “She’ll be back in ten minutes. It’s nearly break.”
…Of course, the two ‘classmates’ just had to be the last people he wished to see today.
His fears were confirmed when, clearly worked up over something, the redhead duo rounded from behind Hermione’s curtained bedpost with bubbling energy…and came face to face with him.
A picture of their faces as they realised who it was would've been worth a shot at Patronus-summoning.
Alas, it was ruined by them standing so close to Hermione.
“Weasley.” Harry couldn't quite keep the snarl out of his voice as he reached for his wand. Then he turned to his sister. “And you.”
The two stood in place, wide-eyed and clearly startled.
“Potter?” Weasley asked dumbly. The ginger pair shared a quick look, betraying a mixture of nervousness and guilt.
Harry raised his wand.
"Wait!" The male ginger exclaimed, raising an arm as if he could ward off his magic barehanded. "We're just here to check up on her." His female companion kept quiet.
"Right." Harry snorted, not lowering his wand as he eyed the great Girl-Who-Lived and her loyal sidekick. "And I suppose you two just randomly became her friends last night?"
The brave Gryff gulped. Harry would've mocked him for it had it not been for his sister folding her arms, a cold glint flashing in her eyes.
"We are her friends," She stated neutrally. "No matter how much you'd like to deny it. Honestly, what exactly do you think we were doing?"
"I don't know, and I don't care." He stepped forward, the tip of his wand now almost poking her in the throat. "Step aside. I don't mind knocking you down one more time this year."
The reminder of her defeat didn't seem to faze her, though he knew it must've bitten deep. From the very first year, Jane Potter had worked hard to form an aura of power, confidence, and mystery around her. People spoke as if she truly was the second coming of Merlin; their perfect hero, who would save them from any impending doom and darkness.
To see her be defeated by her brother, no less than three times in the same year, had done much to break the mystique of her character. Almost as much as when Daily Prophet's Rita Skeeter released the article on her childhood, detailing the personal tutors she'd had since she was six, breaking Merlin knows how many laws by practising magic so early.
But one thing Harry had to give her credit for was her ability to maintain a cold mask, even in the worst of situations.
Case in point as she stood her ground against him unflinching, even under wand point. Sadly for her, Harry wasn’t joking. There was nothing better he would like than another chance at pushing her sky-high ego down.
Just when he readied himself to deliver upon the promise however, she finally averted her eyes, frustration clear in her demeanour as she dipped her head slightly.
Harry snorted softly, slowly lowering his wand. "Pathetic."
Jane didn't rise to the bait, whirling around to face Hermione’s resting form and putting her back to him. Harry could've sworn her eyes glistened under the Hospital lamp a moment before she'd turned, but it surely must've been a trick of the light.
"We really only wanted to see her." Her voice sounded suspiciously hollow. "Professor McGonagall gave us permission. Now, if you'll excuse us, it's best we both leave, yes?" She turned towards the exit, keeping her eyes averted. "C'mon, Ron."
“Uhh…Jane.” Her fellow ginger hesitated, gesturing towards him ‘subtly’. “You know, maybe we should…” He shrugged.
Suspicious, Harry readied his wand again.
“No.” Jane shook her head, quickly heading towards the exit. “We’re leaving, c’mon.”
“But he can help!” Weasley exclaimed, all tries at secrecy vanishing. "You know he can."
Harry had no idea what the boy was talking about, but hell would freeze over before he let such a chance slip.
"Help, Weasley?" He raised his brows, pointing at himself exaggeratedly. "From the big, bad Heir of Slytherin?"
The boy flushed, ears darkening deep red. He had been the most vocal about Harry's inherent evil ever since the secret of his Parseltongue was revealed. Even Hermione's petrification hadn't stopped the boy from leading a personal campaign of vendetta against him, remaining an outspoken voice against all things green and snakey.
“I know you’re not the Heir now.” Weasley muttered uncomfortably, glancing at Jane from the corner of his eyes. “If the entrance is really…there, you know we’ll need him. He's a Parselmouth.” Jane still didn’t turn back, but she came to a halt.
Harry frowned, glancing from one ginger to the other, suddenly far less amused. “What’re you talking about? Entrance to where? The Chambers?”
"Hermione found out what the creature was." Jane spoke up finally, raising a hand to wipe at her face. "She wrote it on an old page—when she was petrified, the page got stuck in her frozen hand."
She finally turned, stepping forward to offer a crumpled piece of paper. Harry noticed her eyes looking a little red, though he wordlessly accepted the paper, grimacing slightly when their hands brushed.
He would need to wash himself thoroughly once he got back to the Common room. Wouldn't want to be infected by Ms. Perfect's big-headedness.
A large part of his focus, however, remained fixed on the piece of paper, which he quickly straightened. Hermione's writing was the easiest to recognise; while reading English still gave him trouble, she had changed her writing style in the last summer holidays to accommodate him better.
He still remembered the flack she'd received from McGonagall for the apparent downgrade, but she'd stuck to it even to this day.
Shaking off a wave of melancholia, Harry began to read the marked parts, eyes flittering through each word twice.
"We think it's a Basilisk." Weasley quipped up in the ensuing silence, pacing up and down the room as they waited for him to finish. "Its gaze is supposed to kill, but none of the victims looked it directly in the eyes. And if it travels through the pipes, no wonder no one's seen it, right?"
Harry shot him a look. "You mean Hermione thinks it's a Basilisk. And yes, I knew that, we theorised so a couple months ago." He turned back to the paper. "I didn't know about the Pipes though."
Yet it made sense. The whispers always came from the walls, and according to Hermione, the ginger duo had already investigated Harry's first suspect—Spiders. So that just left the Basilisk.
Of course, there were deeper contradictions to the theory one must also consider. For instance, how could a thousand year old basilisk fit in pipes? All the books pointed to the fact that basilisks never stop growing, with some cases recording them stretch dozens of feet long. Hogwarts plumbing would need to be larger than an entire city's sewer system to accommodate it.
The only answer he had was 'Magic.' But that still left one thing out…
He glanced up at the duo. "I'm guessing you figured out where the Entrance is then? That's what you wished to tell McGonagall, isn't it?"
The two shared another quick look. Harry was beginning to get irritated.
"Well…we think it's in a bathroom." Said Jane, "The…uhh, you know who Moaning Myrtle is?" She continued at his nod. "Well, she died in the same bathroom she now haunts. I think the Entrance is there, just hidden out of sight."
Harry rubbed his chin, thinking. While he couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that an ancient, legendary magical creature would choose to slither through tunnels full of teenage faeces, he supposed not everything was as it seemed in story books. The basilisk certainly lost its 'Noble creature' privileges when it started putting children into coma.
"But this would mean there's another Parselmouth in Hogwarts." Harry muttered, putting his dislike for the two temporarily on hold. "If it's hidden, it can likely only be accessed by a descendant of Slytherin…which means the basilisk is being controlled."
Jane nodded sharply, hope returning in her determined eyes. "Let's go and tell McGonagall before it's too late! She'll take us more seriously if you were with us."
Harry snorted, even the notion sounding ridiculous. "Are you taking the mickey? McGonagall hates me."
For some reason, that got both of them staring at him like he'd said something ridiculous.
"What're you bloody on about?" Ron glared at him, looking genuinely annoyed. "She's always going on about you when we share classes with the other Houses. Did she give you detention or something?"
Harry shook his head, baffled. "She does what now?"
"This really isn't the time." Jane once again turned towards the exit. "The break's nearly over. Let's go before someone else actually dies this time."
Harry nodded. Stepping closer to Hermione, he linked his fingers with her rigid ones, squeezing lightly in a silent promise, before following the two out of the hospital.
The Staffroom was blessedly only a small run down from the Hospital hallway, so they managed to just barely squeeze in before the break ended. It was also completely empty, allowing them to wait in the room without needing to awkwardly explain themselves to any teacher.
Harry took a seat on one of the staff chairs, whilst the ginger-duo paced the room—too worked up to sit still.
Yet the break never ended.
It was the longest ten minutes of Harry’s life; sitting opposite one of the two people he hated in this Castle. There were times when he just wanted to stand up and start shouting, to hurl all his thoughts and accusations that had haunted many a sleepless nights. There were also times when he’d wanted to skip the shouting altogether and go straight to casting the most darkest and ruinous Curses he knew.
It was probably for the better that no such thing came true.
"All students are to return to their dormitories at once!" All of a sudden, McGonagall's amplified voice blared through the castle walls. "All teachers return to the Staffroom. Immediately, please."
Harry jumped out of the chair, heart speeding up.
“Another attack, do you think?” Jane asked hushingly, dread quickly infecting her features.
"Most likely." Harry muttered, hand moving straight to his Invisibility Cloak. Snape would absolutely flip out if he knew he'd left the Dungeons alone at times like these.
“What should we do?" Weasley asked from the other side of the table, aghast. "Go back to the Dormitories?"
"We can't." Jane replied, looking around the room. "This is far too important to delay. We'll just…hide in here," She moved towards the weird-looking wardrobe at the corner of the room, pushing aside the levitating bundle of cloaks within. "and see what's this about. Then, we'll tell them what we've found out."
"Yeah, well…" Weasley glanced at him uncomfortably. "There's…not enough room for three."
Harry rolled his eyes, unfurling his Cloak with great flourish. "Oh relax, Weasley. I'm not itching to get inside a closet with you either."
He put the Cloak on and moved to another corner of the room.
"An invisibility Cloak!" The boy gasped behind him. "Wicked!"
Jane shushed him and pushed him in. "Shut up, they're coming." And come in, they did.
The teachers filed into the room like a small train of distressed people; some alarmed, some downright terrified. Harry was surprised to note even Snape looked far from his cold, infallible self.
Professor McGonagall entered last, moving with a severity Harry had come to recognise her for.
The shock of knowing she held such a high opinion of him hadn't left his system yet. While he was competing with Hermione and Jane for the top spot in her class this year, he was still a Slytherin, and a Parseltongue to boot.
Considering how blatantly partial Snape was with his criticism of the Gryffindors, he'd counted himself lucky she only kept to occasional scowls and sharp, biting wit.
"It has happened." She announced to the room of standing teachers without preamble. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."
Gasps littered through the Hogwarts staff, each stiff with fear in their own way. Even Snape stood still as a statue, hands gripping onto the top-rail of the chair beneath him tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
"How can you be certain?" The man asked quietly.
"The Heir of Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall said, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"
The gravity of the moment only truly dawned when Professor Flitwick burst into tears right in front of his eyes.
“Who is it?” asked Madam Hooch, having slowly sunken into a chair, weak-kneed and stumbling. “Which student?"
"Ginny Weasley." Professor McGonagall answered weakly.
Harry instantly whipped his head at the wardrobe, though blessedly it remained as silent and lifeless as a piece of wood should.
"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," McGonagall continued, sombre and downcast. "I'm afraid this is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"
The Staffroom door banged open once more, though Harry was no longer paying attention. He leaned back into the wall behind him, stunned and reeling as he digested the piece of news.
Harry hadn't thought he would one day come to regard Hogwarts as his true home, but he did. Even knowing the school's end wouldn't spell an end for his ventures into magic—after all, there were two more schools in Europe that would gladly extend an invitation to a student of his calibre—he still felt like he would be saying goodbye to a vital chapter of his life.
A chapter that had yet to finish.
Ahead, the teachers had united together in flaying Lockhart's hide apart. Even seeing the poncy git squirming like a bug underneath a microscope didn't manage to raise his morale.
For he knew, with an unfaltering certainty, the end of Hogwarts would mark his first true defeat in life.
“Right,” Professor McGonagall's voice retook his attention as Lockhart stumbled out of the office arse over tit, “that’s got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories? I shall head to the Ministry and inform them of the situation."
The teachers soon gave their assent and filed out of the room, with McGonagall shutting the door behind them, leaving only a broken silence behind.
The wardrobe burst open as soon as they were alone, and a dazed Weasley sprawled out like a wet noodle, stumbling down the floor almost as lifeless as the wooden wardrobe.
"Ron? You alright?" Jane asked hesitantly from behind him.
The boy didn't seem to hear, staring listlessly ahead, and for a rare moment, Harry felt his heart squeeze out a drop of pity for him.
But there was something far more urgent biting at his heel right now: preventing the end of Hogwarts.
"What should we do?" Jane asked him, looking far from her usual confident self. "Head back to the dorms? The teachers would know we're outside."
"No." Harry decided, quickly bundling up his Cloak again, before glancing at the dazed ginger. "Weasley, get your head out of the pity party. Your sister isn't dead yet, but she will be if we stand here doing nothing." He turned to his own sister, who had opened her mouth to reply, "Or go back to the dorms."
She snapped her mouth shut. "What then?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He palmed his wand, heading over to pull the staff doors open. "Let's go hunt us a monster."
"What?" Jane snapped behind him, incredulous astonishment clear in her voice. "That's.. that's completely—"
"Crazy? Insane? Bonkers?" Harry shrugged, stepping out of the office. "You might not have noticed but we aren't exactly swimming in options right now. McGonagall's not here, and no teacher would dare enter the Chambers without Auror support, let alone allow us to go."
He could see that hadn't done much to convince her, but help quickly arrived from an unexpected source.
"He's right." said Weasley, stepping up beside him, a faint glimmer of hope shining in his eyes now. "We can't wait for others to save my sister."
She likely saw the futility of arguing further, for she caved in after only one look at him, albeit with visual reluctance. "Fine!" She fumed, waving them forward. "Myrtle's bathroom is on the second floor. Let us head to our deaths together."
If her words were meant to make them hesitate, they failed.
The three of them quickly started making their way down the corridor, towards the Grand Staircase, though Weasley was undoubtedly the most impatient amongst them, trailing ahead by himself.
"You should know this is a very bad idea." Jane voiced as the two jogged just beyond hearing-reach of Weasley. "You can't use his fear like this."
Their steps echoed through the deserted corridors, not hide nor hair of any other breathing soul barring their way forward. The only living thing to even greet their eyes were a few portraits who didn't care overmuch for a bunch of 2nd years.
Harry glanced at his sister mildly. "Is complaining the only thing you're good at? No wonder Quirrel managed to steal the Stone last year."
He hadn't been directly involved, though he knew from Hermione the ginger duo had anointed themselves the sole Truth-seekers of the mysteries behind the 3rd floor corridor last year. The news had made it to Daily Prophet, of Professor Quirrel—secretly a Dark Wizard, hiding in Hogwarts—stealing the Philosopher's Stone from right underneath Dumbledore's nose.
What the public didn't know was the direct involvement of The-Girl-Who-Lived and her fellow red-haired lackey.
"Okay, fine!" The said girl now snapped in frustration. "I get it, you're better than me. Now can we please at least ask Professor Lockhart for help!? You heard the meeting, he might be preparing to enter the Chamber right now!"
Harry stared at her in disgust. "Why am I not surprised that you're a fan of his? I swear, the man turns every girl into a bumbling idiot. Can't you lot see what a fraud the guy is?"
She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe you're just jealous."
"Jealous of what? His incompetence or his cowardness?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, before raising a finger in mock-realisation. “Oh that's right, it must be his obvious talent in vanishing bones out of perfectly fine arms!" He gave her arm a pointed look. "Must've felt real nice spending a night in the hospital Wing, gulping down bottles of skele-gro, huh? If he became any more incompetent, he'd be even worse than Quirrel."
Jane scowled, folding her arms as they slowed to a walk. "A great wizard doesn't always have to be a great teacher. Or else my entire family would've been teaching at Hogwarts."
Harry's mood instantly blackened, the anger and hatred he'd been trying to suppress all this while coming to the fore.
"In mood for some bragging, are we?" His voice felt taut with tension, even to his own ears.
He tried to push it away, bringing his amateur Occlumency skills to the fore…then Jane Potter opened her mouth once more.
"I'm not bragging." She said, turning to him mildly. "And they're your family too, you know."
Harry moved before he even understood the purpose, his fingers clasping around her throat in a vice-like grip, the sheer strength slamming her against the wall.
"Do. Not. Play me." Something frighteningly animalistic raced in his voice.
Jane floundered around his fingers, her hands flailing and clawing at his arms, but his hold was iron, and her breath soon became a wheeze, quickly weakening into a true struggle for life.
"....Please." She squeezed out through her throat weakly, her body quickly losing strength.
Reality suddenly hit back in his mind, and he let go as quickly as he'd flown, feeling more than a little mortified.
Coughing, Jane stumbled down to the floor, desperately unbuttoning the first two buttons of her shirt to heave in deep, calming breaths.
Harry stepped back from her, feeling light-headed and the slightest bit fearful. This was exactly why he'd always avoided any contact with her before.
"Why?" She asked with a raspy voice, eyes starting to water as they peered up at him—he got a feeling it wasn't entirely due to the…choking.
Jane slowly pushed herself upright against the wall, glaring at him through the rushing tears. "Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you?"
Ironically, Harry had asked himself the same question many times.
He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he resumed his walk. "Your existence offends me. Just looking at you, standing there, a product of your dear mother, makes me sick to the stomach."
The tears now flowed freely.
"Well, I'm sorry." She bit out bitterly, following after him but keeping a wide distance between them. "Really, I'm sorry for being born. Didn't know I would cause such annoyance to my own twin."
Her words struck a chord in his heart, reminding him of his own earlier existence at Dursleys. How many times had he thought that? That he was but a burden to the world, born only to make the Dursleys miserable?
He turned to his sister and was dismayed to see her flinch away. It would seem he was teetering awfully close to imitating the Dursleys.
Harry sighed, pinching his nose in frustration and the slightest bit of guilt. "Look, I realise that isn't fair to you, but nothing in this world is. I learnt that years ago, when I was being beaten and starved by the only family I'd ever known. Wishing, wanting…begging for someone, anyone to save me." He quickened his pace. "Now, I don't ever wish to be linked with them. Just…don't say that again. They're not my family, and neither are you."
Jane didn't reply, though he could see her rubbing at her neck tenderly from the corner of his eyes.
Harry sighed again, feeling even more guilty. "Let's just go to Lockhart’s office first. Maybe you’re right about him."
A brittle silence enveloped them for the rest of their journey. Weasley had to track back impatiently to hurry them—the boy was so drowned in his own grief, he didn't even ask about the purple bruising on Jane's neck—and the three quickly climbed down to the second floor through the Grand Staircase.
Lockhart's office was thankfully quite close to Myrtle's bathroom, though when they reached it, the door appeared closed. Noises from inside indicated its owner's presence however, and from all the scraping, and thumping, and hurried footsteps, it appeared the Professor was quite busy.
They knocked on the door, and for a brief moment, Harry almost believed the man was preparing for a battle.
That feeling disappeared away when the door opened a tiny crack, and the brief image of the room within looked completely bared empty.
“Oh, Ms. Potter, Mr. Weasley.” Lockhart’s eyes locked on him the last. “Um, Mr. Potter as well?" The man glanced back at his room before turning to them. "I’m afraid I'm rather busy at the moment, why don’t the three of you come by later?”
“Professor, we have some information for you.” Jane said before the man could slam the door on their faces, though her smile didn’t hold the same energy he’d expected her to show upon meeting Lockhart. “It’s…it’s about the Chamber.”
“Er, that’s—well—I don’t think—” His eyes darted over behind them, scanning the horizon. “It’s really not necessary—”
“It won’t take long.” Jane promised, either not noticing the state of the room or not reading the implications behind it.
“Oh, uhh…alright then.” The man looked decidedly uncomfortable as he opened the door. “Just…make it quick.” The three entered in.
As he’d expected, Lockhart’s office was almost completely stripped down to empty walls and naked floor. Every piece of furniture, from his bookshelf—containing a mountain load of his own published copies—to even the lone chair, had all magically disappeared.
Harry wagered the culprits to be the two large trunks that sat open on the floor. One was an obnoxiously glittering mess of robes: from jade-green and lilac to midnight-blue and stark red, all shining like pristine costumes made solely to seek attention.
The other was a cluster of furniture, with one leg of an up-side down chair poking out of its magically enlarged depths.
The man looked half-way done in stripping down the photographs from the walls; all now showing worried Lockhart faces.
“Are you going somewhere?” Jane asked slowly, the realisation finally seeming to dawn within her mind.
Harry smiled.
The ensuing confrontation between Lock-wart and Ginger-duo made him lose even the last bit of respect he held for the man as a teacher. The famed wizard blubbered and whined, giving hollow excuses and false consolations for why he was running away with his tail tucked between his legs. Without his confident smile and suave persona, he looked nothing more than a weak-chinned, feeble coward.
Though more than him, Harry held far greater interest in noticing the way Jane's faith was slowly and painfully stripped away, as the truth of her dear professor came to the fore.
“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!” She thundered. “You can’t go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!”
“Well, I must say—when I took the job—” Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. “nothing in the job description—didn’t expect—”
"You mean you’re running away?” Jane asked disbelievingly. “After all that stuff you did in your books —”
“Books can be misleading,” Lockhart said delicately.
“You wrote them!” Jane shouted.
Harry almost wished he had a bag of popcorn right now. Especially when the scene headed towards its climax; there was a visible change in Lockhart’s demeanour, as all of a sudden he regained the confidence he had been missing since his meeting with the teachers.
The man had made a decision. Harry held his wand at ready, just in case.
“My dear girl,” He straightened up tall, frowning down at Jane. “Do use your common sense. My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on—”
“So you’ve just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?” Jane asked incredulously.
"Jane, Jane,” Lockhart sighed sadly, shaking his head at her as if she were a stupid child. “It's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms. No, it’s been a lot of work, Jane. It’s not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.”
He turned to his trunks, banging the lids shut and locking them with a charm. “Let’s see…yes, that’s about everything. Just one more thing left.” He whirled around, hand dipping towards his wand. “Awfully sorry, kids, but I’ll have to put a Memory charm on yo—whaa!”
Harry’s “Confringo!” hit perfectly against the man’s wand, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The shock-wave from the spell picked Lockhart up and blasted him over the trunks.
It was the most recent Curse Harry had learned, and he was more than happy by the results as Lockhart groaned from the floor.
“He deserves far worse.” Weasley furiously kicked the trunk aside, his own broken wand pointing at the downed man. “Get up!” The boy kicked him in the arse.
Harry was liking him more and more.
"You were right." Jane breathed out from beside him. "He is a fraud."
"I know." He tried not to preen, though judging by the look on Jane's face as she moved towards their Professor, he might've failed.
Lockhart slowly got up on his knees, whimpering at the burns on his hand and the small splinters of wood lodged within. "What d'you want me to do? I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is!"
"Luckily for you, we do." Jane poked him with her wand, forcing him to stand. "C'mon. Maybe we can use him as bait." The man's weak protests were promptly ignored.
With Lockhart as their unwilling prisoner, the three marched down the nearest stairway from his office, traversing the badly-lit corridor—that still shone with the Heir’s messages—to reach Myrtle's bathroom.
Her ghost wasn’t present when they entered, though Jane was sure the entrance was somewhere around the sinks. They searched every nook and cranny—even forcing Lockhart on the job—before Jane finally noticed a tiny snake carved over the top of one of the copper taps.
With encouragement from the ginger duo, Harry imagined it as the face of a real snake instead of a tiny engraving, commanding it to ‘Open’ in parseltongue; even though he’d been hoping it to work, he was taken by surprise when the entire structure began to change.
The sink sunk down into the ground with a deep grinding noise that lit vibrations through his chest. They all stepped back in surprise as a gigantic opening was revealed in the pipe behind it; big enough for a fully grown man to fit easily.
“The Entrance.” Weasley breathed out. “We have to go in.”
“Yeah, we do.” Jane said, hesitantly moving over to poke her head inside the massive hole, peering down its depths. “Don’t know how deep it is, though.” Her voice echoed in the pipe.
“Well,” Lockhart clapped his hands nervously, completely white in face. “Clearly, you don’t need me. Why don’t I just—”
The man became the first to enter. Not willingly, of course, but being a professor had its privileges; he got to experience them first hand—kicking and screaming.
Then Jane and Ron dove in, with Harry lingering back the last. He decided not to close the entrance behind—if a student or teacher did wander by, hopefully they would notice a giant hole in the bathroom and send down some help.
Then, with a quick prayer to a god he didn’t believe in, Harry jumped in.
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The darkness was absolute. It was like rushing down a slimey slide made of void and nothingness, a giant maw of pure blackness that went on and on endlessly as if it were taking them to the deepest part of the world. He didn't know how long they fell, but he was sure they were deeper than any wizard had ever ventured in Hogwarts…save for the Heir and Salazar Slytherin.
Just when he'd begun bracing for a sudden and painful death via getting splattered all over the floor, the pipe suddenly levelled out straight—like one of those mega slides in water parks—and he was spat out of the opening with a wet squelch, landing on solid ground that felt damp to the touch.
Harry sat up slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness. The little he could see let him know they were in some sort of tunnel, tall enough to stand up straight.
"We must be miles under the castle." Jane's voice echoed in the dark tunnel.
He quickly pushed himself to his feet, a little disgusted by the sticky slime on the floor. Carefully putting one foot forward, he judged—by the crunching and skidding sounds—that they were stood upon a path made of rocks…and bones.
"Under the lake, probably." Ron replied, voice subdued.
His three companions were already facing the unknown darkness ahead; Jane and Ron trying to be brave, and Lockhart whimpering softly.
"Lumos." Jane whispered into said darkness, and the light lit up a path for them, though just barely wide enough to put two steps together. "C'mon. Let's find Ginny and get out of here as quickly as we can."
That felt like wishful thinking to him, but he agreed. As long as Weasley Youngest survived, the school wouldn't be closed; if they did so without alerting the monster, more's the power to them.
"Just remember," Harry turned to the others. "If you see something slither in the darkness, close your eyes. Won't save you from becoming lunch, but at least you'll know what's killing you."
He could hear Lockhart's teeth clattering now.
"My, what a rousing speech." Jane muttered sarcastically as the group of four started their journey into darkness. "Nothing like a reminder of our impending doom to spice up the adventure."
Harry smiled widely, even though she couldn't see him. He had to admit, apart from the entire 'being abandoned by my mother and siblings to be starved and beaten' thing, he was quite liking his time with his sister.
'Perhaps I've judged her too harshly.' He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. As the wandlight illuminated her the brightest, his eyes couldn't help but notice the dark imprint of his fingers on her neck. 'Perhaps I've treated her too harshly.'
Their journey was the definition of silence. Nary a squeak nor whisper of air greeted them this far down the earth. The loudest noise to break the brittle sheet of quietness was the harsh breaths from Lockhart or the occasional crack of bone or two underneath their feet.
But while the others took solace into each other—even Lockhart's presence seemed to provide some assurance to the pair of Gryffindors—Harry couldn't help but find the surrounding a tad bit…comforting. There was just something so strangely familiar in being a part of absolute darkness, walking amidst nothing but broken bones and dead matter.
Perhaps it was simply him trying to be brave, to act like some edgy fearless hero, but if that were the case, it sure worked like a charm.
Before long, they rounded a dark corner of the tunnel, coming upon a clearing that stretched into the horizon.
"Jane," Ron's hoarse whisper roused their attention. "There's something up there." The boy pointed.
Harry squinted in the distance, making out a vague outline of something gigantic laid across the ground. The Wand light wasn't strong enough to shine over it, but even with their limited vision, they knew it an absolute behemoth of a being.
"M-maybe it's sleeping." Jane whispered back, muted fear now evident on her visage.
Lockhart had curled up in a ball, hands shielding his eyes zealously.
"I don't think it's alive." Harry said frankly, beset with the strangest certainty over the matter.
"How d'you know?" Jane asked in an even quieter whisper, as if to compensate for his loudness.
Instead of replying, he lit up his own wand with Lumos and walked ahead; he didn't know why, but he was supremely confident it wasn't something living.
When the light washed over its shape, a sickly green snakeskin came into their view, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor.
"Merlin," Jane breathed out. "It must be over twenty feet at least." He was guessing nearly double that.
"Blimey." Ron weakly muttered.
For some reason, Harry didn't like the note of weakness in his voice.
"C'mon." He led the way this time, giving Weasley a push—who looked a jumpscare away from joining Lockhart in some light whimpering. "We don't have time to waste right now."
They had just passed the enormous snakeskin's mouth—its scale putting into perspective how easily the creature could devour the entire group in one gulp—when suddenly movement erupted behind him. Jane and him had taken the lead, and both whirled around almost the same time, wand at ready.
Alas, they were a touch too late.
Lockhart had jumped Weasley the moment they took their eyes off of him for more than a minute. In the end, no matter how pathetic, he was a man fully grown. In a contest of strength, there was no struggle; he had Weasley's hands locked behind his back and his broken, Spellotaped wand at his throat.
"I'm afraid the adventure ends here, kids!" Lockhart grinned loftily. "Drop the wands, or your little friend here wouldn't remember his own name."
Jane raised her hands slowly. "There's really no need for that."
"No!" Weasley chose that moment to yell, struggling against the man's hold, but the wand digging deeper in his throat cautioned him to a halt.
"Ah, but there is, Ms. Potter." Lockhart smirked, playfully whacking Weasley on the head. "And do stop being dramatic, Mr. Weasley. Another try and you might lose your ears."
"Professor, please." Jane pleaded. "The monster could be out any minute! We can still do this—rescue Ginny and escape before anyone notices!"
Lockhart frowned, seemingly losing patience at the mention of the monster. "Drop your wand. Now." Weasley's broken wand started to glow.
His eyes nervously flickering behind them gave Harry an idea as Jane caved down, slowly and cautiously lowering her wand.
"You too, Mr. Potter." The man turned to him. "Before this wand starts acting on its own. It is terribly worn, isn't it?"
Harry tilted his head. "No…no, I don't think so." He raised his wand at Lockhart. "How about this? You drop the wand, Professor, and I won't kill you?"
For a split second the cowardly wizard flinched, and Harry already knew his bluff was taken.
"Oh ho ho ho," Lockhart put his brave face on. "Empty threats isn't going to help you here, Mr.—"
Harry aimed his wand to the side and spelled out, "Avada Kedavra!"
Green light blasted out of his wand, spluttering against the wall uselessly in a small explosion. The entire cave shook lightly and Harry suddenly had a new concern. His plan had never taken the cave into account.
But his job was done. Lockhart went pale faced and feeble once more, lips trembling as he looked where his 'Killing' Curse had splashed.
"Y-you won't," He gulped thickly. "You're just a child. K-killing Curse requires great power and intent…"
That was true. Harry doubted his spell could do more than deliver a small nosebleed right now.
Lockhart didn't know that. And Slytherins always received the benefit of doubt when anything dark and evil was involved. 'Guilty until proven innocent' was the motto of the school for the House of Snakes.
He aimed his wand back at Lockhart, smirking the most evil smirk he was capable of. "Would you like to find out?" Right on his words, the cave shook once more.
Now Harry was getting really worried, but the bluff worked like a charm as Lockhart let the boy go, raising his arm as he backed away.
"Please, I really only want to get out of here—"
"Expelliarmus!" Jane spat and the spell soared like an eagle, straight at the wizard.
That became the catalyst to a chain of events Harry really should've seen coming. Lockhart tried defending himself with Protego but Weasley's wand simply detonated upon contact with Jane's spell. The resulting explosion gave the Cave's shaking just enough of a boost, and entire slabs of the tunnel started collapsing like a house of cards crumbling away, massive pieces of stones crashing upon the floor.
Lockhart ran ahead to avoid the rain of stones whilst Harry dragged Jane back, just in time for an entire new wall to form; of falling stone and gravel, piling atop each other to create a blockade between the two divided groups.
When the dust settled—literally—and they stopped coughing from it all, one side held three members of the original group…whilst Weasley made up the second.
"Ron!" Jane bellowed, waving away the dust to stick her nose against the newly formed wall. "Are you okay!? Ron!"
"I'm here!" Weasley's voice answered back from the other side. "I'm okay…I think?"
"Did a stone hit you in the head?" Jane asked in horror. "Oh no! You might lose the little brain you still have left!"
"Hey!"
Harry ignored the two, walking over to Lockhart who was dusting himself clean. The man faced greater problems though when his fist fell upon his nose with a satisfying crack.
The guy shrieked like a banshee.
He was so loud in fact, that Harry had to step back in surprise, his anger temporarily paused. "Never got punched in the face?"
"Wha—what?—" Lockhart blubbered, blood dripping down his chin.
"Doesn't matter." Harry got in close again, gripping the man's robe-collar. "Get this through your skull, Professor. The only way you're getting out of this tunnel alive is with the Heir dead and Weasley's sister in tow. Do you understand me?"
The cowardly wizard nodded quickly.
Harry stood up. "For once in your life, you're about to do something yourself…" He offered Lockhart a wide smile. "isn't that a rush?"
Judging by the look on his face, it wasn't.
"Alright, stand back." Jane's voice drew his attention, her wand now pointed at the centre of the stone wall. "I'll try to crack you a way in."
"Don't!" Harry urgently warned, glancing at the ceiling cracks left behind by the recent disaster. "You'll bring the entire tunnel down on us."
She turned to him, frowning. "Well, what then? We can't just leave him here."
Harry rubbed his brow. They were wasting time here. It had been almost an hour since the Heir took Weasley's sister into the Chamber; plenty of time to make her monster chow.
He glanced up at the ginger duo; he could just about make out Weasley's face through the imperfect gaps between the stones, and it didn't look like he'd be going anywhere for the time being.
"Weasley, you wait there." He finally decided. "Try to gently shift some of the rocks for us to return. We'll go on and bring your sister back."
Jane made to voice some protest but Weasley was already nodding. "I'll try to clear a path for you…just," To Harry's surprise, he looked at them both. "You come back alive."
Harry nodded. "See you in a bit." He dragged Jane along before she could shed any tears, his wand pointed at Lockhart. "You lead, Professor."
In short order, the now group of three crossed the dark tunnel, leaving the humongous snakeskin behind. The noises from Ron's efforts at clearing a path slowly became lower and lower until all they could hear was an occasional echoing crack or grind from the shifting of stones.
The tunnel led them to a path full of turns and twists, rounding again and again as it funnelled them deeper. The more they walked, the tenser the air became, until even Jane wasn't making any small talk with him, all three watching the darkness with bated breath, as if awaiting some behemothic monster to jump them from the darkness.
The tunnel soon came to an end, thankfully without them getting jumped, though he doubted his companions would find any solace in that. Dread was the only thing beating within their hearts as they crept around the last bend and witnessed a solid stone gate blocking the way forward.
Two massive spiralling snakes were engraved within the circular gate—entwined with each other and sharing a pair of vivid emerald eyes that looked shockingly life-like.
"Now what?" Jane whispered. "Do we blast it apart?"
"W-well, seeing as the only way forward is barred." Lockhart slowly took a step back, sweat dripping down his brows in a waterfall. "I suggest we go back and get some help. Maybe we can come back later and—"
Jane poked him in the back with her wand point.
Ignoring both the muppets, Harry looked deep within the emerald eyes and commanded, "Open!"
The two stone serpents separated and a straight line seemed to cut through the middle of the gate, slowly enlarging as both halves of the gateway slid smoothly inside the tunnel walls. What lied in front of them was a clear entrance to the Chamber beyond.
Then, with one last look at each other, the three entered inside…within the deepest part of Hogwarts.
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AN: That's it for this one, hope you enjoyed! The next chapter has already been posted, so go check it out. Also, this wasn't edited, so if you find any jarring errors, please leave a comment.
Lemme know if you're liking this story so far.
Comments
Robs511
Well...not quite. As you will find in the coming chapters, Harry's birth was a little complicated, though it does not affect his feelings for Lily. They are just pure, raw reaction to finding out the truth.
Emmet
2 chapters in and I love it! Is the hatred only for lily cuz he somehow senses james isn’t his father?
