The Chamber Of Secrets


Light fled as he drifted further down the tunnel that led to the
Chamber, and he promptly cast a new Lumos spell, the light from his
hand nearly blinding him after the constant dimness. Once his eyes had
readjusted, he continued his slow descent, much more controlled and much
less frightening than the abrupt and precipitous fall that had awaited
him the first time he entered the Chamber.

Soon he found himself floating through a cave-in, the same rockfall that
had separated him from Ron and the self-obliviated Lockhart on his first
trek down this passage. He passed the discarded skin of the basilisk,
still present, and looking at it, he realized that if it had survived so
long, relatively unscathed, there must be many more elsewhere in these
caverns. After all, did not snakes shed annually? At least, he thought
they did, and the basilisk had certainly seemed to be a very large
snake, to his eyes.

He was somewhat perturbed at the pangs of hunger he felt when looking at
the discarded skin, and passed quickly by it.

Reaching the snake covered metal door, he hissed at it to open,
unwilling to test if it might be enspelled against ghosts and other such
incorporeal beings. Passing through the opened portal, he saw the
remarkably well-preserved corpse of the basilisk, and was immediately
struck by an incredible thirst.

Once more he felt his tail, wings, and talons burst forth, but this
time, he could also feel his teeth sliding out, a very odd sensation.
Though consciously he felt a vague repulsion at his actions, his thirst
was too strong to fight, and his instincts too overwhelming, and he flew
swiftly down the hall and swooped down on the carcass.

He sunk his fangs cleanly between the scales just behind the head of the
great beast, at a point that he felt was right, though he did not know
how he knew this. Sucking furiously, he drew up a viscous, hot liquid,
and inwardly he marveled that the basilisk's blood should still be
fluid, much less hot. He did not pause to wonder, however, but continued
swallowing thirstily, feeling a burning heat spread from his center
outward.

Finally sated, he leaned back just slightly, and pressed his hand
against the fresh wound, which sealed beneath his hand. Uncomfortable
trying to think about what he had just done, Harry allowed the post-meal
lethargy to overtake him, and he collapsed next to the carcass and
curled up against its heat, folding his wings about himself. He was soon
slumbering.

Harry was startled awake by a sudden surge of panic. He sat up, barely
noticing the warm basilisk that had served as his pillow, focused on
this feeling of panic. There was something curiously disassociated about
it, as he felt the panic, and yet his heart was not racing, nor was his
breath short.

As he focused on it, the feeling became clearer, and with it came an odd
sort of flavor. After a moment, he realized that he knew the flavor, and
could identify it as 'Hermione,' though he would swear he had never
tasted her. She was panicking, he realized, over Harry's absence from
their first morning class. Ron had informed her, apparently, that Harry
had not been in his bed when he got up, nor had either one seen him that
morning. She had expected to see him when they got to breakfast, or at
least first class, and was desperately afraid that he was injured
somewhere, or in the hands of Death Eaters.

Without understanding exactly how or what he was doing, Harry reached
out and surrounded Hermione with his essence, soothing and comforting
her. He felt her surprised realization that he was fine and unharmed,
but unable to be present, and beneath that, he felt a rising curiousity,
dampened only partially by his calming aura.

She would doubtless be heading for the library to look up long-distance
connections, or to Dumbledore to see what he knew, as soon as her
schedule gave her the opportunity.

He pulled away, as he tried to restore his focus and clear his head from
the grogginess associated with an unexpected awakening. One of the first
points to rise to the level of conscious thought was that this was the
first night he had slept without nightmares or painful visions, and
slept the whole night through, in ages. He cast another Lumos spell,
shielding his eyes with his off hand against the brightness, before his
eyes adjusted.

A moment later, he remembered what had happened to him the night before,
and where he was, and worse still, what he had done just before falling
asleep. That probably explained, he decided, the rather bitter metallic
aftertaste in his mouth.

Not bothering with a spell, Harry produced a glass of water as he had
the mirror the night before, and quaffed it, glorying in the cool
deliciousness of the refreshing liquid. He then proceeded to stare at
the glass, realizing with a bit of glee, that he had produced a mirror
the night before and attributed it to an odd property of the room, that
the chamber he had been in was in some way akin to a Room of
Requirement. After all, that would have explained how it could have been
so easily set up to have the layered challenges, and then be a single
empty chamber again the next time he entered it.

Clearly, however, that was not the case. Harry confirmed this by
producing, again without words or gestures, or even much in the way of
effort, a plate of his favorite breafast foods, and a glass of pumpkin
juice, resting incongruously on the worked stone floor of the Chamber of
Secrets, not four feet from a giant snake.

Ignoring the snake for the moment, Harry sat and ate, feeling pleased
both at his apparent new ability, which of all that he had recently
gained, he felt was perhaps the best, and at the fact that he did not
find the food at all distasteful, which quelled any possible concern he
might have had about being forced to drink blood from now on.

All the tribulations associated with his foolish attempt at an Animagus
transformation seemed to pale in the face of never having to worry about
being starved again. Even if he never finished his magical education,
what of it? They could not snap his wand; he did not even have it
anymore!

Vanishing the remnants of his wonderfully filling breakfast with as
little effort as he had summoned it, he turned his attention to the
basilisk.

Glad that he was not taken again by an uncontrollable thirst, and beyond
grateful that this irresistable urge had taken him when this snake was
the target, and not one of the other students, he walked up to the snake
and, leaning against it, he pressed his ear to its scales.

Slow, and deep, and unquestionably present, he heard the beat of its
heart. Faintly, behind all of the physical senses present, Harry could
still feel Hermione, and in his startlement at hearing a heartbeat, and
unconsciously feeling her presence, he asked her, "Hermione, how can a
snake's heart beat so long after it died?"

"It's obviously not dead, Harry. It's probably hibernating, or in a coma
or something. Why are you asking about snak . . . HARRY!?? Where are
you? How? Harry?" Her voice started out irritated, a quickly snapped
answer as often came if she was interrupted with a question while
studying, then a more moderate tone as her curiousity was piqued, then a
sudden vehemence as she realized she was speaking to someone that was
clearly not present, followed by an almost timid question, practically
squeaked out.

Even more faintly, as if heard from a great distance, Harry heard the
voice of his persistent tormentor, Professor Snape. "Miss Granger! Ten
points from Gryffindor. Now stop blathering about your precious Potter!
He is not present, and if you continue such clearly delusional ravings,
I shall send you to Madam Pomfrey and . . ." His voice dropped, becoming
almost teasing, "I'll make certain she understands you are to have no
intellectual stimulation whatsoever. No studying, no reading. After all,
we wouldn't want to disturb such a delicate young mind, now would we?"
He practically hissed the last phrase, seeming to take delight in his
facility for knowing exactly what threats would most terrify his pupils.

"Yes, Professor Snape, I'm sorry," Hermione said, as Harry stood
stock-still, his hand on the basilisk's hide, his jaw somewhere around
his ankles as he listened to a conversation that he should have had no
way to hear.

"Harry," Hermione hissed, practically in his ear, in his opinion, though
when he glanced about, he could not see her, "I know I heard you. Where
are you?" Her voice sounded curiously flat.

"Shh, Hermione. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"I thought so." Hermione's voice was practically smug, "I wouldn't worry
about that Harry. I haven't said anything since I apologized to Snape."

"Don't meet his eyes!" Harry warned, suddenly wary of Snape learning
that Hermione was in fact connected to him, though he too dropped the
vocal component of the conversation, realizing the meaning of Hermione's
implication. Apparently, one of the powers a succubus of Harry's sort
had was telepathy, or something like it. "Remember, he's a master of
Legilimency, and I bet he doesn't have to bludgeon his way in like he
did to me. He can probably slip through unnoticed."

"I'll contact you when class is out," Hermione said sternly. "Then you
can explain where you are, and why you weren't in class."

"Yes, Hermione," Harry responded meekly.

He waited another few moments, but Hermione's presence faded slowly from
his awareness, and she said nothing more to him. Returning his attention
to the basilisk, he wondered if Hermione was right. Had he in fact not
killed the serpent, but merely scrambled its brain, when he jabbed the
sword of Gryffindor through the roof of its mouth?

But how had it survived then, for a little over three years now, with no
food or movement? He did not think it could be merely sleeping or
hibernating. He felt certain that having its skin pierced and its blood
sucked out would have roused it were that the case.

He hissed a few commands at it in parseltongue, but it did not
noticeably react. Deciding to ignore the basilisk for the moment, he
turned away and began to walk among the stone pillars, examining their
carven and engraved images of snakes. "Slytherin must have had a carving
spell or something," he murmured, ducking down to slip into one of the
innumerable winding and intersecting tunnels that opened out into the
primary chamber. Even the walls of these were of cleanly cut stone,
polished rather than rough-hewn. 

"Either that, or a lot of servants or house-elves. Probably house-elves,
since no-one ever seems to have revealed his secrets. That or he just
killed them all."

He glanced down the three paths out of an intersection he had just
entered, noting that there were curious symbols, runes probably, he
guessed, carved into the eight walls that met here. They meant nothing
to him, and he wondered if they were part of a spell, or if they were
more like signposts, telling where each path led.

"I need to learn whatever spell the Marauders used to make the Map,"
Harry commented idly, taking the left path on a whim. He wandered down
it as it curved gently to the right, then meandered back to the left
before hitting another intersection, this one seemingly at an angle from
perpendicular. Again he took the left path, vaguely remembering
something about always turning the same way to get through a maze in
reference to the Third Task of the TriWizard Tournament.

Irritated at the reminder, he sped up, then, annoyed further at the
mixed up echoes that resulted from his shoes splashing in the muck, he
lifted gently from the ground and sped forward, his arms and legs
hanging down as though he were a marionnette being carried by a loose
hand.

After a boring time of seeing nothing but ever more passages, Harry
focused on his sense of smell, and allowed it to lead him back to the
main chamber. He was vaguely repulsed when he realized, upon reaching
the chamber, that it was the smell of blood, not the snake as a whole,
that he had followed, but the feeling quickly passed. It really didn't
matter, anyway.

Harry drifted across the wide pool that stood before the massive face of
the Hogwart's founder. "Only person in history with a bigger ego than
Malfoy and Riddle combined," Harry muttered, then with a sigh, he echoed
Riddle's words, which left a bad taste in his mouth. Slytherin was
definitely not his choice for the "Greatest of the Hogwarts Four," but
he did not want to test the face for any anti-ghost or
poltergeist-defense spells it might have. Best to just use the password.

Harry drifted up through the opening, feeling a little disturbed at
willingly entering what seemed to be a mouth, but ignoring it in favor
of his curiousity. To his disgust, what he found seemed little more than
the serpent's actual lair. No hidden rooms, no great secret, just
another discarded snake-skin, and yet another collection of bones,
though unexpectedly small, to go along with those outside the chamber.

"Alright, Harry," he heard suddenly, as Hermione's presence flowed back
into full force around him. "I'm alone, in the Room of Requirement. Now,
where are you?" Hermione asked, sternly.

"First, you have to promise me, Hermione, promise me on . . . on . . ."
Harry faltered, at a loss for a promise dire enough to give him surety.

"Promise what, Harry?" Hermione's voice had dropped, had become almost .
. . almost tender.

"You have to promise you won't tell anyone! Not Ron, not Dumbledore, not
your diary, no-one! Not even Ginny!"

"Harry?" Hermione sounded worried, even a little frightened at his
vehemence. "Harry, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Promise me!" Harry insisted, feeling a tight knot in his chest. He had
not expected to be able to talk to Hermione like this, and he had known
that he dare not risk allowing her to see him. Ron maybe, he was a bit
blind to some things, and might overlook Harry's changes at first, but
not Hermione. She had been the one to notice the door beneath Fluffy's
feet when all that the rest of them had seen were his three slavering
maws, she would be sure to notice his changes. The chance to get her
advice without risking her eagle eye, nor putting Hedwig in danger of
being followed or tracked, was an unexpected one, and the thought that
it might so swiftly be lost to him, or turned into a tool to keep him
under the Order's thumb, was a chilling one.

"All right, Harry," Hermione agreed, speaking firmly, her sincerity
coming through clearly, "I, Hermione Granger, swear to you, Harry
Potter, on my magic and my knowledge, that I will willingly reveal
nothing you say or show me that I did not already know, until you give
me leave, to any party, living, dead, or unliving." She sighed when she
finished, and Harry felt a rush of magic as she fell silent. Trust
Hermione, he thought, to know the words to some binding promise. He
could feel that some form of magic now held her vow, and he suspected
that the things she had sworn by might be in jeopardy were she to break
it.

"I'm in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Oh, Harry, why on earth? Are . . . are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Harry quickly interrupted before Hermione could work herself into a
panic again. "Hermione! Hermione, I am perfectly safe. The basilisk is
still alive, oddly enough, that's what I asked you about this morning,
but it is still where it fell when I stabbed it, so I must have put it
in a coma, like you said. As for why . . . I did something last night,
Hermione. I know I shouldn't have, now, but it's too late. It's already
done."

"Harry? Harry, you didn't try the Animagus transformation, did you?"
There was a deep horror in Hermione's voice.

Harry grinned sadly. She always was quick to put the clues together.
"Got it in one, Hermione."

"Oh, Merlin, Harry, this is horrible! Didn't you read about the dangers?"

"I thought if my dad could do it . . . or, what's more, if that worm,
Pettigrew, could do it . . ." He sighed, and he heard Hermione sob. His
heart clenched in sympathy.

"But, but he had help! And . . . oh, Harry. They can't change you back,
can they? An incomplete or unguided transformation, especially if the
wizard doesn't know what he is becoming thoroughly, if it succeeds at
all, has a horrible chance of trapping the wizard. There's a very short
window for the reversal, only a few hours! Please tell me you only just
tried it?" Hermione sobbed again, and Harry knew that she knew the
answer to her question already.

"It wouldn't matter, Hermione. It was a complete transformation, and it
was last night. I lost control, just like Professor McGonagall said
might happen."

"And it took too long . . ." Hermione finished for him. Harry grimaced.
Well, no, it actually had . . . 'come,' pretty quickly. It had been his
own foolishness, and his determination that no-one could know what his
form really was, that had apparently doomed him.

"You can't change back?" Hermione asked, barely whispering. Again, Harry
had the feeling she already knew the answer to her question. He was
right, for she did not even wait for him to respond. "What did you
become? You mentioned the wings . . . was it a bat, like we thought?"

"No, Hermione, it was not a bat," Harry sighed.

"Then what?"

"I . . . I can't tell you." Harry said, wincing prematurely. She was not
going to take that well, he knew.

"What?!" she screeched, "Why not? Don't you understand, Harry? If you
couldn't turn back normally, and no-one was there to cast a reversal
charm on you, the only way to get back is to understand the form so
thoroughly that you know it inside and out, every ability, every inch,
and then you can perform the full Reverse Animagus transformation. I . .
. I can help you, Harry," she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion.

"I can't," Harry insisted, feeling a bit choked up himself. "I just
can't. You'd hate me."

"I won't!" Hermione insisted, audibly taken aback. "Even if you turned
into the image of Voldemort himself, I couldn't hate you. I won't hate
you, Harry! I'm your friend!"

"I . . . I know you are, Hermione. I, I just can't, right now. Give me
some time. Maybe then I can tell you."

Hermione was silent for a moment, as if absorbing his words, then
finally she assented. "If that's how you feel Harry. But I promise, no
matter what it is, I won't hate you. Even if it's a winged Blast-Ended
Skrewt!" she promised fervently, making them both laugh.

"Harry?" Hermione asked again, after several moments of silence. "You .
. . you didn't . . . hurt anyone, did you? When you lost control?"

"No! No, I promise, Hermione. I was alone, in a sealed room. When I came
back to myself, I was still there. I am absolutely positive that I
didn't even touch anyone else."

"And you said you were unhurt," Hermione noted, her voice calm again.
"So all we have to deal with is your uncontrolled transformation. Do you
. . . do you think your transformation puts you in greater danger?
Particularly since you can't defend yourself magically? Shouldn't you be
somewhere you can be protected while you learn?"

"No, no, in fact, Hermione, I think I'm probably safer now than I was
before. I . . . I probably shouldn't admit this." Harry sighed deeply,
pained at the realization that once more he was the oddity, the freak,
and he was going to have to admit it to Hermione to convince her that he
was not in danger. "I became something magical, Hermione." 

Harry laughed when he heard Hermione's squeal of shock and excitement,
but he interrupted her sudden spate of questions. "I'm not a defenceless
animal. I can still cast magic, and in fact, some of it is coming even
easier." He chuckled. "I can do conjuring like you wouldn't believe. I'm
not sure if my wand is hidden in me somehow, or if I just lost track of
it, or destroyed it accidentally, and my magic is something built in,
but I can cast just as well as if I had a wand, but it's better, because
I can't be disarmed!"

"Magical? Harry, that's wonderful! But . . . what kind of magical being
could you possibly become with bat-like wings and . . . Harry? Do you
think I'm still mad at you about the Ministry? Because I'm not. If you
became a thestral, that's nothing to be ashamed of, and I won't hate you
for it."

Harry laughed softly. "Sorry, Hermione, but that's not the right guess.
And no, I was pretty sure you had forgiven me for my foolishness, even
before I had managed to forgive myself. Interesting guess, though."

"Oh," Hermione responded, a bit disappointed. "Well, I hope you decide
to tell me soon. If you're a magical beast, that only makes it more
imperative that I do some research. After all, you have to become
familiar with all your abilities, and that includes innate magic, or
external magical effects, such as being visible only to those who have
seen death. If you were a thestral and didn't know about them, how would
you ever figure out the logic of who could and could not see you? You
need my help, Harry, and I promise I won't let you down."

Harry did not know what to say to that, but Hermione seemed to have
guessed that, as her presence faded. "Just think about it," she said,
faintly, and was gone.