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SS Chapter 16: The First Task
🕑 Added 2024-10-08 10:53:04 +0000 UTCXVI. The First Task
Harry soared through the trees, his beady eyes peering through the darkness. A large, scaly monolith roared in the distance.
Not a monolith, then.
He swooped, his feathers smoothening beneath the strong wind. Behind a nearby grove, Harry watched as a number of leather-clad wizards hurried forward, tugging on large metal chains and brandishing their wands wildly. Each chain snaked up the large structure which, Harry realised with a start, was nothing short of a monstrous dragon.
Caw!
Harry landed on a branch. He preened his feathers meticulously, eyeing the dragons that sat some sixty meters away.
Three. One for each Champion.
The branch shook. Though minute, Harry’s newfound senses detected it in a way he couldn’t explain -
Snap!
Harry swore, though it sounded much more like another caw. He just barely managed to catch himself as his body tumbled to the earth, fluttering higher through the air and out of the forest. The Hogwarts Castle loomed before him, looking oddly enchanting beneath the glowing stars.
Harry flew high above the main courtyard before diving. He careened through the long corridors and neatly into Myrtle’s bathroom before transforming back.
“Open,” Harry panted, hands on his knees. He quickly made his way down the slide and into the chamber.
“You’re back,” Slytherin noted when he entered the study. The old spirit eyed his worn robes, “Not the best flier in the world, are you?”
“Bite me,” Harry sank into the chair behind the desk, “I’m made for flying. Just takes a bit of getting used to.”
Slytherin snorted.
“‘Used to flying,’” he repeated, “You're used to flying on an enchanted stick, not as a malnourished crow -”
“Normal crow. I fixed the malnourished part last year.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Slytherin sighed, “You learn anything more about being an Animagus?”
Harry grinned. He pulled his glasses from his pocket.
“I don’t need these anymore,” he grinned. The spirit sighed.
“Yes, I know. You’ve brought it up a dozen times -”
“It’s so weird,” Harry muttered, blinking as he glanced around the chamber, “I feel like I can see so many shades of colors that I just couldn’t before. It’s even crazier when I’m transformed.”
Salazar thought for a moment.
“This is quite the advantage,” he admitted, “Do you know the extent of your improved vision?”
Harry shook his head.
“It’s good, though,” he noted, “I can see through the stained glass of the Astronomy Tower now. I used to have to try to see through it before, even with glasses on.”
“Anything else?”
“My hearing is loads better, too,” he noted, “And I think my senses are better.”
Slytherin frowned at his second statement.
“Better senses?”
“You know, like my perception,” Harry explained, “It’s even stronger as a crow. When I was flying through the forest, I could practically feel where others were at.”
The spirit nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then we’d best discuss the forest,” Slytherin huffed. He eyes Harry for a moment, “Keep wearing your glasses, by the way. It’ll prove useful.”
Harry frowned, replacing his spectacles across his face. The world blurred before him.
“I think it’d be better if I stopped,” Harry frowned, “I look better without them.”
Salazar looked as though he were about to have a stroke.
“Who gives a fuck what you look like?”
“People,” Harry hissed. He rolled his eyes, “People prefer listening to pretty faces.”
“Sounds vain,” Salazar sniffled, “If you’re powerful enough, they’ll be forced to listen -”
“Like you were?” Harry challenged, “If I recall correctly, you trying to leverage your power ended with you being banished from the castle.”
Slytherin huffed.
“I chose to leave.”
“Sure you did,” Harry turned the glasses around his hand, tapping them with the tip of his wand. The lenses turned to normal glass, “There is some use to keeping them, though. It could save my life if my opponent thought I actually needed them.”
The spirit nodded in agreement.
“Becoming an Animagus must’ve fixed more than your eyes,” Slytherin whispered to himself, “You’re finally starting to see sense, too -”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Slytherin waved him off, “Tell me about the forest. What did that Alice girl want you to see?”
Harry yawned.
“Dragons. Three of them -”
“One for each champion, then,” Salazar frowned, “Is that your challenge, then? Killing a dragon?”
Harry shrugged.
“I guess so,” he frowned, “How am I meant to do that?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Slytherin sighed, “You can’t use your Animagus abilities, for one. Not that you’ve got a firm enough grip on transforming to be able to do reliably any time soon . . . perhaps the Killing Curse?”
“Funny,” said Harry dryly, “They’d cart me off to Azkaban before the judges finished handing out scores.”
They sat in silence for some time, thinking carefully. Harry sighed.
“I should probably be considering more than just how to kill the dragon, you know,” he noted, “I’ve got to impress the crowd.”
“That’s a good point,” Slytherin hummed, “Instill fear in them -”
“No,” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “If I come off too threatening they’ll do away with me.”
“Preposterous. You’re the boy-who-lived.”
“And Dumbledore’s the Supreme Mugwump,” Harry snapped, “If he wanted to, he could. I don’t need to give him another reason.”
He closed his eyes, thinking.
“Dragons,” he murmured, imagining one, “Large wings, breathe fire. Anything important I missed?”
“Long, strong tails,” Slytherin murmured, “They’ll batter you if you aren’t careful.”
Harry nodded.
“I could choke it,” he offered, “Shove something down its throat.”
“It would just burn it,” Slytherin pointed out, “Fire Breathing, remember -”
Harry sat up.
“Surely it can’t go on forever,” he argued, “I can get it to use up its flames, then choke it to death.”
“And how, exactly, do you plan on getting it to use up its fire reserves?”
Harry smiled.
(-{- S S -}-)
Fleur smiled stupidly, her robes singed. Her friends surrounded her on either side.
“You were brilliant!” Adeline cheered, the pink bow in her hair nearly unraveling as she hurriedly hugged Fleur, “You were absolutely terrific, loads better than Krum!”
“I’m sure he did well too,” Fleur laughed. She turned to Aimee, who smiled.
“He did,” the brown haired girl admitted, “But she’s not lying. You did better.”
Fleur sighed. Adeline pulled her arms away from Fleur’s neck, frowning.
“I’ve told you to stop with the English, haven’t I?”
Aimee frowned at her.
“When in Rome,” she said simply, “You really should get with the program. I might stop responding if you keep sticking to French.”
Adeline glared at her.
“That’s bullshit!”
“Alice managed it,” Fleur shrugged, “She was as bad as you a month ago.”
From Aimee’s side, Alice smiled.
“I had an incentive,” the girl admitted. The smile slipped from Adeline’s face.
“Not now,” Fleur hissed under her breath, “Enjoy the moment.”
Adeline nodded sullenly.
They stood in their spot by the rocky arena, watching as the judges conversed amongst one another.
“How much did Krum score?”
“Forty,” Aimee sniffled, “An undeserved score. Karkaroff gave him a ten.”
“What was his strategy?”
“He went for the eyes. While the dragon was blinking out the pain he made a mad dash for the golden egg.”
Fleur frowned.
“What did he lose points for?”
“When the dragon was blinded it crushed all of the real eggs,” Alice supplied, “You’re not supposed to be harming the real eggs.”
Good thing I didn’t, then.
“He got injured, too.” Adeline noted, “The dragon got him with its tail. Sent him flying.”
Alice nodded, wincing.
“It looked like the world’s most impressive backflip -”
A sudden hush fell over the crowd. Adeline tapped Fleur nearly a dozen times with nervous anticipation as the judges all stood up. They watched as their headmistress rose to her feet, pointing her wand into the sky -
“Ten!” Adeline sang, “Ten, a ten, a FUCKING TEN!”
Fleur couldn’t help but giggle. She felt practically giddy with excitement.
Next came Mr. Crouch. A silvery ribbon burst from the tip of his wand, contorting into a nine. The girls all cheered with excitement.
Dumbledore was next. Another nine appeared, followed by an eight from Ludo Bagman -
“Thirty-six!” Adeline whispered, “You just need five more to beat Krum!”
They glanced back at the podium, watching as Igor Karkaroff stood up. A look of utmost displeasure coated him as he pointed his wand high into the air, brandishing it angrily -
Six.
“Six?” Adeline spat, “Six? You no good, lousy little -”
Fleur laughed, pulling her friends toward her. Her eyes closed as she relished in the feeling.
“I did it,” she breathed faintly, “I am in first place.”
Her friends all smiled. Behind them, wood creaked as the dragon handlers Madame Maxime had mentioned wheeled in a vicious silvery beast. Alice sighed.
“At least this one’s prettier than the others.”
Fleur fought the urge to roll her eyes. Beside her, Aimee shook her head.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” the brown-haired girl said, “In fact, I’d be more worried about this one than the other two.”
Alice’s brows furrowed.
“Why?”
“Fire Breathing,” Fleur whispered. She had researched all three of the dragons quite extensively several days prior, “That is a Swedish Short-Snout. They are renowned for the heat of their flames.”
Alice seemed uncomfortable. Adeline stared at the girl.
“You seem uncomfortable.” she accused. Alice snapped.
“Of course I’m uncomfortable,” the girl hissed, “I have to watch a human being face up against a monster for a third time in one day. That would unsettle most people with a heart.”
Adeline seemed taken aback.
“I - sorry,” she murmured, “It is scary. Especially since he’s the only one who didn’t know about the task beforehand.”
Fleur nodded slowly before pausing. She eyed the look of semi-guilt that Alice wore.
“You told him.”
Adeline and Aimee spun around, staring at the girl. To her credit, Alice didn’t flinch.
“You preach about fairness, don’t you?” she whispered, “Here you are.”
Fleur nodded. From her side, Adeline grimaced.
“You did this for fairness, did you?”
“Don’t take this away from her,” Aimee muttered, “She did the right thing.”
Alice faced Adeline, her blue eyes shimmering.
“I would’ve done it for Krum, too,” she said truthfully, “This is a game. No one should be risking their life for this. I won’t be a part of that.”
“Fine,” Adeline murmured, “Fine. I believe you.”
Alice smiled. Behind them, a cannon boomed, sending smoke and dust flying everywhere.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Ludo Bagman had stood up, his voice now booming across the arena, “It is now time for our youngest champion to face his foe! I give you . . . HARRY POTTER!”
The shouting and stamping of the Hogwarts students vastly drowned out the primal roar of the dragon. The entire arena shook as they rose to their feet, chanting with their fists high in the air -
“Harry Potter, Triwizard Champion! Harry Potter, Triwizard Champion, HARRY POTTER, TRIWIZARD CHAMPION -”
The dust cleared from the arena’s opening, and a lone figure stepped into the light.
(-{- S S -}-)
Show me Slytherin.
The air shimmered. Salazar Slytherin suddenly appeared before him, his almost solid form flickering in the light of the sun.
“Where am I?” the man asked, looking around wildly. His jaw dropped as he stared at the dragon opposite them in the arena, “That’s it. I’m helping the dragon -”
“Grow a pair,” Harry muttered, stepping forward. He pulled his wand from his robes, “It’s not like you can get hurt. I just need you to coach me for a bit.”
He studied the dragon that loomed opposite him. A beast of silvery-blue, the Swedish Short-Snout eyed him meticulously with pale eyes. Flames slipped from the slits in its nose as it breathed in and out.
“It doesn’t look as monstrous as I thought it would,” Harry admitted, eying the tail.
“It doesn’t matter,” Slytherin whispered back, “It’s still strong enough to overpower you. When compared to one, a million and a billion are equally oppressive.”
Harry frowned. The dragon hissed as he stepped forward, covering the eggs with its wings.
“Nesting mothers,” Salazar’s voice echoed in his ear, “Whoever set up this task was particularly vicious.”
Harry nodded. He continued to slowly edge forward, eyeing what little he could still see of the nest.
“I’m meant to get the golden egg,” Harry explained.
“You know what to do. Stop muttering and get to it, or they’ll think you’re crazy.”
Harry nodded once more. He waved his wand over his head, closing his eyes. A sea of water churned within his mind.
Now.
Water rose from between the cracks in the rocks. Harry molded them into an army of life-sized creatures. He pointed at the dragon with a single finger.
“Attack.”
The creatures charged. He watched fervently as wolves, lions, and bears sprinted toward the dragon, who heaved it’s head into the air -
Do not get too close, Harry commanded, It must not realise you can not harm it.
The dragon roared. Its eyes glowed as it lowered back to the earth, and a wave of scorching heat blasted through the arena. Harry brushed it from his path with a wave of air, inspecting his troops. Only the closest had evaporated.
Perfect.
The dragon panicked. Harry watched as it backed up, shielding its eggs with its body. It sent another furious wave of heat toward the army of water. Once again, only the closest of Harry’s constructs were removed. A tight burning sensation seared at his chest as he pushed more magic into his constructs.
“Come on . . .”
The Resurrection ring grew hot. Harry shivered.
‘Such a waste of time’ a familiar voice whispered in his head, ‘Why not kill it another way? You know the words . . .’
Harry blinked wildly, pinching the ring. The voice of Tom Marvolo Riddle flickered away.
“Focus, would you?” Salazar barked from before him. Harry stared, “You’re in a locked arena with a fucking dragon, you filthy half-blood!”
“Right,” Harry breathed heavily, dropping his palm, “Right. How much longer until the dragon’s out of fuel?”
“It’s close,” Slytherin muttered, “Look at the flames carefully. They are more gas than fire.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Sure enough, dark, murky gasses were leaking from either side of the dragon’s mouth.
That was fast.
“Hotter flames use up more energy,” Harry guessed thoughtfully. He watched from the sidelines as the dragon continued in its attempts to evaporate his troops, feeling rather bored.
Maybe . . .
He jabbed his wand forward, thinking carefully. His troops burst into shapeless water, which he pooled into one oversized construct. Within seconds, a dragon twice the size of the Swedish Short-Snout dominated the arena, screeching furiously. Harry laughed with excitement.
Scare it. Don’t get close, just scare it.
His construct clawed at the arena. Harry shattered the rocks that the water passed through for greater effect.
“Really putting on a show, huh?” Salazar muttered. Harry rolled his eyes.
“I can’t risk the Short-Snout realising that the water dragon can’t actually hurt it.”
They both looked back as the silvery dragon unleashed a final torrent of blue flames. It sputtered out into a heap of gasses and what looked like molten mucus.
Perfect.
Harry slashed his wand through the air. His watery dragon collapsed, the liquid shooting through the air and into the Short-Snout’s mouth. Harry sent what remained of the water through its nostrils and ears.
The dragon heaved. The entire arena shook as it clawed at its throat, gasping for air.
“You know, if you were going to use water, you probably could’ve done this at the start.”
“Nah,” Harry shook his head, “There’s only so much water you can fit in its mouth at once. It’d probably evaporate it.”
Crash.
The two of them turned to see the dragon lying in the center of the arena. It was unmistakably dead.
I won.
A stark silence fell over the crowd. Harry made his way across the arena, surveying the stands. Not so much as a peep escaped any of the onlookers.
Nothing?
“Nothing,” Harry whispered, almost hurt, “I killed a fucking dragon. Nothing?”
“No matter,” Slytherin’s voice pressed faintly against his ear, “What does it matter? They have seen, they now know -”
No.
Slytherin’s spirit vanished with a single thought. Harry pressed his wand to his neck, closing his eyes.
Without acknowledgement, what’s the point? Why fight if there’s nothing to win -
“Sonorous.”
His throat burned. Harry stared furiously up at the crowd, his hands raised. He forced himself to suppress his irritation, a look of amused confusion growing.
“So silent,” he murmured, his voice booming, “It’s like we’re not seeing the same thing . . .”
He spun around, seeking out the group of red and gold. The two he had most hoped to spot stood out at the front of the stands. Harry stared at them, pointing.
“What did I just do?”
The Weasley twins glanced at each other.
“You killed a dragon.”
Harry shook his head furiously.
“You’re saying it like it’s nothing,” he snapped, “What did I just do?”
“You killed a dragon!”
“WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO?”
“YOU KILLED A DRAGON!”
The Gryffinor stands exploded with sound. Harry turned away from them, his eyes falling on the stands of blue and bronze.
“AND YOU - WHAT DID YOU SEE?”
A swarm of older boys Harry didn’t recognize crowded at the front of the stands, cheering wildly.
“YOU KILLED A DRAGON! YOU KILLED A DRAGON! YOU KILLED A DRAGON -”
Harry turned again. The Hufflepuffs were yelling now, too. A silent tower of silver and green loomed before him. He smiled.
“You don’t have to cheer,” he said sweetly, “They wouldn’t hear you, anyway.”
The Slytherins stared at him, dumbfounded. Harry ignored them, turning to face the center table. A furious glare latched onto him. Harry couldn’t help but smile.
“I killed a dragon,” he said, eying Madam Bones, “My name is Harry Potter, and I just killed a fucking dragon.”
(-{- S S -}-)
A faint glow shone from the notebook Madam Bones had presented Harry. The boy summoned it from across the room, opening it curiously. A set of simple instructions sat within:
‘Earn the favour of Fleur Delacour’
Harry glared, tossing the book aside. Hedwig barked irritably.
“It’s because she’s the Minister’s daughter, or something,” Harry explained tiredly. His voice slurred, “Or maybe she’s trying to get back at me for making a scene during the task . . .”
I still can't believe that French twat beat me.
Harry sighed.
“Taking off points for killing the dragon,” Harry snapped, “If we weren’t supposed to, they should’ve fucking said something.”
Shaking his head, Harry held out his palm. An uncapped bottle of Firewhisky zoomed into his grasp, splashing him and Hedwig with alcohol.
“Ouch - Hed, I’m sorry!” Harry bumbled earnestly. He smothered her feathers with his palms, wiping the whisky away, “There. Better?”
Bark.
Smiling, Harry fell back into his four-poster. He pulled his faux glasses from the bridge of his nose, staring through the window at his side.
Look at the stars.
“Is it fun, getting drunk on your own?”
Harry nearly jumped. His eyes closed with frustration as the familiar voice permeated the room.
“I wasn’t alone at the start,” Harry turned around to face the blonde-haired boy, “I was partying with the others -”
“Yeah, I saw,” Neville nodded, “It was a bit hard not to, what with the Weasley twins holding you up in the common room.”
Harry smiled.
That was fun.
He watched as Longbottom’s gaze swept across his side of the room. The pudgy boy paused. Frowning, Harry turned to see what had caught his attention.
“Two whole bottles,” Neville whispered uncomfortably, “How are you not dead?”
Harry shrugged.
“Must be my magic,” he guessed.
Alcohol’s no match for magical strength. I think.
Neville nodded thoughtfully.
“Maybe,” he agreed slowly, “My gran had a friend who could drink his way through an entire pack of beers. Always used to say his magic just ‘melted the alcohol away.’”
Harry grinned, nodding eagerly,
“That’s a man who knows what he’s talking about,” Harry smiled. He jumped to his feet, yawning loudly as he stretched.
I could use a walk.
“Good seeing you, Nev,” Harry said curtly, holding his arm out. Hedwig dutifully landed upon his wrist, “But I reckon I’ll be going out now.”
“Er - wait,” Neville said hurriedly. Harry frowned.
“What?”
Neville shifted uncomfortably.
“The - the stone.”
“Huh?”
“The Resurrection Stone!” the boy almost shouted. Harry jumped, “Sorry. But - did you find it?”
Harry paused, struggling to think carefully. His mind felt like nothing more than a jumbled mess.
“No, I didn’t,” he lied, subtly turning the ring that sat along his finger so that the stone was hidden within his palm, “It was a dead end.”
“Oh,” Neville’s face fell, “Well, at least you tried.”
“Yeah.”
“It’d have been nice for you, though,” the pudgy boy continued earnestly, “Good closure.”
“Right.”
The two stood in silence for a moment. Neville twitched before holding his head high with determination.
“If you find another lead, just let me know, alright?” he said pseudo-confidently, “I - I really think it’ll help, getting one last word with your parents -”
“Yeah, I agree,” said Harry loudly, clasping Neville on the shoulder. The boy jumped, “Well, I’d best get going. See you!”
He left the boy standing in the dorms, not bothering to look back. A blast of sound flew at him as Harry swung the door open, hurrying down the circular steps and toward the common room.
“HARRY!” Lee Jordan belted as he stepped out, jumping toward him. A crowd quickly formed around them, smiling like idiots, waving bottles of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey about, “Not done partying, are you?”
“I was hanging from a chandelier about twenty minutes ago, Lee,” Harry smiled, “I’m knackered.”
The crowd booed. Harry waved them off irritably.
“Yeah, yeah, fuck off already,” Harry laughed, “I need a breather.”
Two redheads appeared on either side of him, waving flags with his face plastered across them.
“Make way, make way!” Fred roared as George held a trumpet up to his lips, “The great Harry Potter is coming through!”
Harry turned to George, laughing. The redhead boy leaned down to hear Harry through the commotion.
“There the fuck did you get the trumpet?”
“Is that what this is?” George held the trumpet before him, “I got it from Dean! He said they play them whenever the King is coming through!”
Harry grinned.
The crowd parted, making way as he passed. Harry weaved his way through the dozens of hands that reached toward him, quickly making his way to the common room door. Parvati and Lavender were sitting by the entrance, smiling up at him.
“Having fun?” the former asked, bemused.
“Was,” Harry grinned, “I think I like partying.”
“We noticed,” Parvati glanced up at the ceiling, “I’m not familiar with the muggle dance scene, but I don’t imagine swinging from the chandelier is a particularly common dance move.”
“You’d be surprised,” Harry smiled, hugging her before turning to Lavender, “And how are you faring this evening my dearest Miss Brown?”
Lavender giggled.
“Not as well as Parvati,” she whispered, a cup clenched in her hand. She leaned closer, “Varti really like that dance she shared with you -”
“That’s enough out of you,” Parvati snapped, pulling Lavender back. The pale-skin girl let out a grumbled complaint, the cup crumpling in her grasp. She turned back to Harry, blushing, “You certainly handle alcohol better than this one over here.”
She nodded at Lavender. Harry shrugged.
“Guess I’m just gifted,” he decided eventually, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in the mood to take my talents somewhere else.”
“Man of the hour heading out?” Lavender frowned, leaning closer. Parvati held her up, “Why?”
“Need a bit of air,” said Harry simply. He hugged Lavender tightly, pressing his lips against the top of her head, “Don’t be stupid, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bye Harry!” Lavender waved. He smiled, turning to Parvati.
“You got her?”
“Of course,” said Parvati quickly, “Are you alright? You look agitated.”
Harry blinked.
I do?
“I - yeah, I’m fine,” said Harry uncertainly, “Just need a breather, like I said.”
Parvati nodded slowly.
“Of course,” she said, pressing her lips against his cheeks, “Come to me if you need anything, alright?”
“I will.”
He turned away from the girl, hyper aware of the way her gaze lingered along his back. The feeling faded as the portrait hole swung shut behind him.
Finally.
Harry turned Tom’s ring thrice around his finger, focussing his thoughts. A familiar flickering spirit appeared beside him.
“Do I look agitated?”
“What?” Salazar barked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Do I look agitated? It’s kind of a simple question -”
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Slytherin leaned closer, inspecting him carefully. Harry watched as the spirit frowned, “Odd . . .”
“What? What is it?”
“Are your eyes usually so narrow?”
What?
Harry waved his wand, producing a thin, hand-held mirror. He inspected his reflection carefully, groaning.
“No, they aren’t,” Harry frowned, tossing the mirror aside. It dissolved into nothingness before it hit the ground, “The alcohol’s messed up my control over my expression.”
“Ah,” Slytherin said after a long pause, “I suppose the worst has happened, then.”
Harry made a face as he hurried down the steps.
“That being?”
“You failed the first task and decided to drown yourself in alcohol and your sorrows.”
“What? No!” Harry snapped, “I did fine - you were there!”
“Then?”
“Longbottom,” Harry hissed darkly. Slytherin floated beside him, seeming only half-interested.
“Another character emerges.”
“I must’ve mentioned him before,” Harry frowned, “His name’s Neville.”
“Well, I don’t remember, so you can explain again.”
Harry sighed.
“He knows about my dreams of Riddle,” he explained quickly, “Ever since he’s taken to lecturing me about it.”
Slytherin blinked.
“Just how many people know about your dreams, exactly?”
“Just him and Malfoy,” said Harry confidently, “They were there in the Chamber of Secrets when we faced the memory of Riddle. He made a lucky guess about my dreams while they were there.”
He glanced to his left, finding nothing. Harry spun around to find Slytherin hovering still staring at him.
“Explain. Now.”
“Explain what?”
“This memory of Tom. You never mentioned him.”
“I’m almost positive I did,” Harry frowned, “There’s no way it didn’t come up when we talked about killing your basilisk.”
“You didn’t,” said Slytherin certainly, “I would have remembered.”
Harry sighed.
Fine.
“There was this diary,” Harry began. He hated the way Slytherin froze, “It contained the memory of a teenage Riddle. I ended up in the chamber with Nev and Draco -”
“Why those two particularly?” Salazar asked carefully. Harry shrugged.
“I was close with Nev at the time,” said Harry, “That’s short for Neville, by the way -”
“I figured that out.”
“- as for Malfoy, I knew it was his fault we had to deal with the basilisk in the first place. There’s no way I wasn’t dragging him along.”
Slytherin nodded slowly. Harry continued.
“Riddle set the basilisk on the others while he talked to me. Dumbledore’s phoenix dropped off the sorting hat at some point, which Neville used to pull out the sword of Gryffinor -”
“A pathetically muggle weapon,” Salazar’s nose shriveled with disgust, “Continue.”
“I conjured a rooster. Its crow didn’t kill the basilisk - probably because it wasn’t a real rooster - but it dazed it enough for Neville to stab it with the sword.”
“And then?”
“Riddle said he’d figured out why we were so similar. That there was a part of him within me. He knew about the dreams.”
“Did he specifically mention dreams?” Slytherin frowned.
“No,” Harry yawned, “But it’s a pretty obvious connection.”
“Of course,” Slytherin nodded, “And the diary? What happened to it?”
“I destroyed it,” said Harry slowly, “With the sword.”
“The sword?” Salazar snapped, “You tried to destroy a hor - you tried to destroy it with a fucking sword?”
Harry nodded slowly.
“It’s goblin metal. It absorbs anything that would make it stronger. There’s no way it wouldn’t be able to destroy a diary, not after it had just been shoved into the mouth of a basilisk.”
Slytherin fell back, nodding again. A thoughtful smile pressed against his lips.
“You’re fucked, by the way,” he said eventually, grinning, “Tom’s winning ten-nil -”
“We’re not guaranteed to be enemies,” Harry grit his teeth, “I haven’t even met the real him, not since I was one.”
“For someone supposedly smart, you’re impressively stupid,” Slytherin commented, “The two of you will be at each other’s throats, I’m sure of it.”
“And what makes you so sure, exactly?”
Slytherin smiled.
“Call it a gut feeling.”
Harry glared.
“Nevermind that, though,” the spirit floated closer, grinning irritably, “I’ve a question for you. A little intrusive thought of sorts -”
“Spit it out.”
“Your ring,” Slytherin yawned as they turned a corner, “The one that belonged to Tom. Anything interesting about it?”
Harry frowned.
“It can summon spirits, if that’s what you’re asking -”
“I was thinking more Riddle-centric.”
Harry froze. He turned to the spirit, his eyes narrowed.
“What do you know?”
Salazar shot him a cheshire grin.
“Depends,” he smiled, “So, anything interesting?”
“I heard Tom’s voice,” Harry said carefully, “It tried to get me to use the Killing Curse on the dragon.”
“What a foolish suggestion,” Slytherin frowned, “It wouldn’t even have worked -”
“Forget not working, it would’ve gotten me arrested,” Harry snapped, “But nevermind that. What are you not telling me?”
Salazar grinned.
“It’s a secret!”
“Can it get me killed?”
“Definitely.”
Harry’s irritation spiked.
“Will you at least give me a bloody hint?”
“Why?” Slytherin made an annoying face, “You and Riddle aren’t even enemies. Why do you need a hint?”
In case I’m wrong.
Slytherin’s expression morphed into an ear-splitting grin. It was painfully clear he knew exactly what thoughts plagued Harry’s mind.
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Do you want your hint or not?”
Harry grit his teeth.
“In the case that Voldemort and I disagree on how the world ought to be altered, I’ll need a Plan B,” he said angrily, “There. Make yourself useful.”
The spirit floated closer, stopping about a foot away from Harry’s right ear.
“If I were you, I’d probably destroy that ring.”
“What?” Harry held up the hand adorned with Tom’s ring, “Have you lost your mind -”
“I didn’t say the stone, I said the ring,” Salazar said coyly, “Unless you want to let Tom’s control over you fester.”
Harry grit his teeth, inspecting the ring carefully. Ornate gold bands encased the stone in rough yet intricate designs.
“Gold is too f-flashy, anyway,” Harry admitted, his voice slurring slightly, “I’ve been meaning to change it.”
I don’t need someone like Neville noticing it.
He pulled the ring from his fingers, waving his wand to sever the band from the stone. Nothing happened.
What the -
Harry turned around.
“It’s like the diary,” he realised aloud, “It can’t be destroyed by anything normal.”
Slytherin grinned.
“Took you long enough.”
“Does it have the memory of Riddle trapped within it?”
“No idea,” Slytherin shrugged, “I’m not exactly an expert in this field -”
“How come I can bleed, then?”
Slytherin froze.
“Sorry?”
“I asked why I can bleed,” Harry repeated, frowning, “If I’m anything like the ring and the diary, how come I can be hurt by normal means?”
The spirit hovered blankly. After a long pause, it spoke.
“Because you are truly alive, and they are not.”
Harry nodded, returning the ring to his finger.
“I’m assuming Tom’s forged some sort of connection between the diary, the ring and I,” he decided thoughtfully as he made his way through another empty hall, “The diary’s connection, I imagine, is severed.”
“You would be correct.”
“I’ll sever the ring’s connection when I get the chance,” Harry muttered, his mind whirling. He suspected it was the alcohol, “It’s a bit disturbing, wearing a sentient ring.”
And a bit pervy, really.
“And yourself?” asked Slytherin curiously.
“I’ve no idea,” Harry admitted, “It’s not like I can just run myself through with Gryffindor’s sword and expect to live. Fortunately for me, I’m not particularly interested in breaking our connections. It’s proven far too useful.”
“Oh?” Slytherin grinned, “And, I must ask, what will you do when the connection endangers you?”
Harry shrugged.
“Bold of you to think it will.”
“It isn’t, but I don’t blame you for disagreeing,” Slytherin smiled. The spirit floated sideways beside him, lying down as though he were in bed, “After all, you’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“You can go now,” he decided, “I’ve learned enough for one night -”
He tripped down a set of stairs, just barely managing to catch himself along the railing. Slytherin snickered loudly.
“Not as tolerant of alcohol as you though, are you?”
“I had two full bottles of Firewhisky,” Harry snapped, “I think I’m holding up just fine.”
“Two bottles? Aren’t you a little alcoholic -”
“Magically gifted, you mean.”
Slytherin snorted again.
“That’s not how that works,” he snickered, “You’ve got to use wandless magic to dissolve or dilute the alcohol while you’re drinking it. You can’t use magic to brute force it - at least, you can’t do so reliably.”
“Really?” asked Harry intrigued.
I know one way to test that out.
Slytherin groaned as Harry pulled an unopened bottle of firewhisky from his robes.
“Why do you have that?”
“What do you mean, why?” Harry muttered, unscrewing the cap, “It’s my party. You really think I won’t have any bottles for myself?”
“You are fourteen, my dear worthless boy -”
Harry ignored him, chugging the alcohol while doing his best to imagine the liquid thinning. From the intense burning of his throat, Harry guessed it didn’t work.
“Fuck,” Harry groaned a minute later, tossing the bottle aside. He vanished it with a wave of his wand, “That - fuck.”
“You are a fucking alocholic,” Slytherin sniffed, “A disgrace to my name, no doubt.”
“I am not an alcoholic,” Harry mumbled, “In fact, I’m quite in-control. I’m just messing up on the facial expressions, that’s all -”
He fell over, groaning. Slytherin watched distastefully from above.
“And the hand-eye coordination, clearly,” the spirit noted.
Harry grit his teeth.
“It wasn’t nearly so bad a few minutes ago.”
Slytherin yawned.
“You just downed another bottle.”
Oh. Right.
“Still, I’m holding up pretty well for someone who doesn’t drink,” Harry argued.
“I suppose so,” Slyhterin admitted thoughtfully, “I imagine you’re a particularly interesting drunk.”
“Yeah?”
“Reminds me of Rowena,” the old spirit yawned, “Oddly lucid, but much more emotionally flexible. Likely to do things you might not normally do.”
Harry frowned.
“That just sounds like every drunk person.”
“Yeah, but not the ‘oddly lucid’ part -”
“Mr. Potter?”
Harry stiffened. He faced the end of the stairs. The diminutive form of one Professor Flitwick awaited him.
“Er - good evening, Professor,” Harry said, fighting to keep his tone normal. Flitwick raised a brow.
“Had fun partying, I take it?”
“A bit,” Harry admitted sheepishly, “I had to take a breather, though. To breathe, in case you were wondering.”
“I can imagine,” Fliwtick smiled humorously, “Though I presumed you were off to visit a place far from here -”
What is he - oh.
“I haven’t been to Godric’s Hollow in a while,” Harry admitted drowsily, “Not since you caught me earlier this school year.”
Professor Flitwick shrugged.
“What better time to revisit them?” He suggested kindly, “Dropping to an annual visit after spending so much time with them last year is something they’ll feel, even if they aren’t here.”
Harry nodded solemnly. His palms were clenched within his pocket.
“I - yeah,” Harry felt a flicker of shame, “I - I think I’ll be on my way.”
“I didn’t catch that last bit,” the short Professor said, “Goodnight, Harry.”
“Goodnight p-professor.”
Filius Flitwick wandered off. The surprised spirit of Salazar Slytherin wandered into view, staring at him.
“I thought you didn’t want to see your parents?” Salazar said curiously.
“I don’t.”
“Then what’s this about you visiting them last year?”
“Nothing,” Harry whispered simply, “I didn’t actually visit ‘em. I just used portkeys to take me there whenever I wanted to go somewhere. From Godric’s Hollow I’d portkey to wherever I actually wanted to go.”
That way Dumbledore couldn’t track me.
“Oh,” a disappointed note seemed to emanate in Slytherin’s voice, “So you didn’t actually care to visit them.”
“I’ve seen them in passing,” Harry muttered blankly, “I saw them in August, after the World Cup. It doesn’t matter, really. They’re just stones shoved atop the earth.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Nope. No, I don’t.
A painful sensation twisted in Harry’s chest as he moved down the stairs and through another winded hall.
“I - I,” he began uncertainly, “I don’t want to see them.”
“That’s interesting,” Slytherin commented from beside him. Harry turned.
“Is it?”
“It is,” the spirit nodded, “There’s a great difference between not wanting to see them and not caring.”
“And why, Mr. Slytherin, why is that?”
“Because the former means you care,” said Salazar simply, “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be actively avoiding them.”
“I’m not scared -” Harry began angrily.
“But you are,” Slytherin frowned, “Let go of the ego that poisons you, just as it did Tom. Think for a single moment. Be honest with yourself.”
The discomfort grew hotter. Harry’s fingers wrapped tightly around his wand.
What are you scared of, Harry Potter?”
Disappointment.
Harry nearly fell over. He grasped the wall beside him, steadying himself.
“I - I wonder if they’ll be disappointed,” he said breathlessly, “I think they’ll be hurt that I chose Riddle over them.”
Slytherin turned away. Harry watched as the spirit swirled curiously through the air.
“Did you?”
“I - I don’t know. I think so. I’m so like him -”
“But why?”
Harry frowned.
“Because I - because I want to have an impact. I want to change the world into one worth living in.”
“You’ve got to be more specific,” Slytherin snapped, “You don’t want purebloods in charge, do you?”
“What?’ No,” Harry shook his head, “I want a world based on merit, not blood. One where true talent dominates, as it should. The opposite of your ideal world, in case you were wondering.”
“I was not wondering,” Slytherin drawled before considering his words, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like you’re using Riddle’s goals to achieve your parent’s visions.”
Harry grit his teeth.
“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, “I - I use people -”
“No shit you do,” Slytherin snorted, “Since when have you cared?”
“I don’t. I - I don’t know . . .”
Harry ducked over, his head hurting. He closed his eyes, pressing his palms against his head.
I’m never drinking again.
“I wonder if you’ll visit Godric’s Hollow,” Slytherin muttered somewhere beyond him, “Whether you’ll muster up the courage to actually visit your dearest mother and father -”
“I’ve visited them before -”
“No, you haven’t,” Slytherin hissed angrily, “You were in control then. Your mind protected you from your discomfort. You can not hide behind your delusions tonight, Harry Potter. Not when alcohol is messing with your head,”
Harry grit his teeth.
Leave.
The spirit of Salazar Slytherin vanished. Harry panted, leaning against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes.
What if they’re disappointed?
Harry sturred.
“They’re dead,” he said harshly, “You can visit some tombstones, you fucking pussy.”
Taking a slow, steady breath, Harry set off down the corridor and out towards the Hogwarts Grounds.
Comments
Church22
Your other story flaw in fate while not finished is probably my favorite current Harry Potter fic can only think this story would be better with fem Voldemort as well. Harry’s fixation on Tom especially the way he looks combined with his midnight meet ups with Draco honestly make this read more like a slash fic. I get an obsession to understand Voldemort maybe even emulate him magically cause he was gifted but Harry here seems more like a nieve child with a crush then a cunning and ambitious teen getting ready to change the world. He’s to blunt to impetuous and to unprepared to accomplish what he wants. Revealing himself to Bella threatening Amelia’s niece for all his brilliance he makes far to many stupid mistakes.
Church22
Didn’t really enjoy the first task that much. This Harry is supposed to be cunning and intelligent but the way it happened while magically cool just made him look belligerent especially with the weird calling out to the crowd shit that came after which kind of made him look desperate for attention
