Chapter Text
To say that Harry absolutely despised to the past few weeks, would be a severe understatement.
Hermione's research on petrification didn't bring up anything. The only thing they found was a cockatrice, but Neville said Fall Out Boy didn't hear any talons or clucking. She tried looking into the Chamber of Secrets as well. But, it only earned their class a lecture from Professor McGonagall.
Then, there was the amount of attention Harry received from the entire school. Whenever he walked into a room, the whispers would start festering. Harry tried to stay between well-liked and unnoticed with almost everyone he met. This whole ordeal with Misses Norris was ruining that.
On top of everything, Harry still didn't know why only he could hear the attacker's voice. The answer laid on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't remember it at all.
And when Harry tried doing some research of his own. Someone tried to crush him under a bunch of bookshelves. He got out of it without a scratch, thanks to Smooth Criminal, but he got banned from the library.
The whole thing drove Harry mad. Not to mention his little fanboy, Collin Creevy. He kept asking questions and taking pictures. Two things Harry couldn't stand. The first being answering questions about his past. The second, leaving behind physical evidence of his presence.
"Another day, another Quidditch match," Harry said.
Neville had dragged the two of them to the Gryffindor versus Slytherin game. He thought Harry and Hermione needed a change of pace. Plus, a little house pride never hurt anybody. . . much.
He poked Harry's arm, "Cheer up, Harry. Little relaxation will do you, and Hermione, some good."
"Not very relaxing, to be honest. The seekers on both teams royally suck," Harry mentioned. One hand to prop up his head as he scanned the field. "The snitch has passed both of them, several times."
"You can see it?" Hermione asked.
"You're asking me if I can see a tiny speck of gold in the middle of a sea of chaos? Yes. Yes, I can."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "How did I know that was the answer I'd get?"
"Hey, don't hate the player, hate the game."
"I hate both," she shot back.
". . . That's fair."
"Oi, watch out!"
Smooth Criminal appeared to smash an incoming bludger away from Harry. He groaned, "Looks like the beaters aren't very good either. That better have been Slytherin's fault. I actually respect the twins. Come on, guys- Woah!"
His Stand smacked away the same bludger for the second time. Harry narrowed his eyes, "Starting to think this isn't the team's fault. . ."
The bloody thing kept coming back for more. More and more people were starting to panic. Madame Hooch wouldn't end the game for something so minor, which meant he had to wait for a teacher to interfere.
But, it looked like they were having trouble navigating the scrambling student body. So, Harry needed to do something about it.
Bludgers were nuts too tough to crack for Smooth Criminal. . . yet. Which meant the game would need to last with only one bludger.
"Toru!" The bludger flashed green for a moment and then disappeared from the field.
Everyone around stared at the empty space where the bludger used to be. Harry readjusted his hat and sighed. "I need to stop coming to these things. . ."
The bad times didn't stop there. They continued all the way to dinner in the grand hall when Dumbledore made an announcement.
"I am very sad to say that there has been another incident this afternoon." The hall went dead silent, several heads turned to Harry. "Collin Creevey was found petrified in a corridor shortly after the Gryffindor-Slytherin game. He is currently in the hospital wing with Misses Norris."
Harry felt like an arrow pierced his chest. Ice filled his veins as the whispers in the hall grew ten-fold.
"Professor Sprout and Professor Snape are working towards a cure, but it will take some time." For once, Dumbledore's calming tone didn't help anyone. "Regardless, Mister Creevy will be up and about in no time."
A moment later, Dumbledore dismissed them back to their dorms. Harry followed the crowd until he could leave without anyone noticing.
Hermione knew Harry well enough to know what he was doing. She signaled Neville what was happening. He mentioned checking on something and broke off in a different direction. After that, Hermione followed Harry, not too close, but not far enough to lose him.
The two of them walked all the way to an abandoned classroom on the sixth floor. Harry walked in, sat a desk, then slammed his fists onto the wood.
"Dammit!" Harry's anguish echoed off the walls. "I missed it, I freaking missed it!"
"Harry, you couldn't have done anything," Hermione argued.
Harry made a frustrated noise in his throat and started pacing around the room. She sat there, in silence, as Harry paced. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, so tight they almost bled.
"I could've saved the little brat," he mumbled under his breath. Collin was annoying, but he didn't deserve getting petrified.
They sat in silence for more than a few minutes. When Harry heard the door start to open, he summoned Smooth Criminal. He relaxed a little when Neville and Draco walked in.
"Looking a little tense there, Potter."
Harry slumped in his seat, "It's been a rough couple weeks, mate. . . I haven't heard much from you this year."
Draco cringed a minuscule action, but big enough that Harry noticed. "Father wasn't happy you foiled his plans at Diagon Alley. It made for a very stressful week. He used his Stand and almost killed one of our house elves."
"That's horrid, "Hermione said, aghast.
They stood in silence until Neville broke the silence by slamming a book onto a desk. He coughed as some dust flew up into his face, "So. . . I have some good news?"
Harry rubbed at his eyes, "Sorry, mate, what do you got for us?"
"Well, you remember how Dumbledore said they were working to make a cure?" They all nodded. "I did some quick research of my own and I found out that the key ingredient for petrification is Mandrake roots!"
"Those screaming plants we've been taking care of?" Draco shuddered at the memory. Hermione could only remember how Harry managed to put earmuffs on without removing his hat.
"Exactly, the mature Mandrakes can be used to create a cure for petrification. The only problem is that Mandrakes can take the better part of a year to mature." Neville grinned, "Unless. . ."
Harry returned it, "Unless you have someone who can grow plants in a matter of seconds."
"We grow the mandrakes, make the cure, and give it to the petrified. Then maybe they'll give us some clues as to who or what did this!" No one could say it better than Hermione.
"Alright, let's do this," Harry said, "Neville-"
"Way ahead of you," he held up some leaves. "I snagged these a few days ago just in case Fall Out Boy would need them. Tomorrow, we can head into the forest and plant them."
"I'll help you out," Harry nodded. "Hermione, will you be doing more research?"
Hermione just stared at him. Stared into his very soul.
"Right, stupid question." Harry turned to Draco, "Can you ask the paintings to keep a look-out?"
"I suppose so. By the way, Longbottom?" Neville looked up, "To get away from my 'friends' in Slytherin, I mentioned I was going to bully you on my own. So, if you see green robes, try to look distraught."
"Whatever you say, Draco," Neville offered him a small smile. The corner of Draco's mouth twitched upwards.
The four friends separated, walking towards their respective dorms for the night. . . Unaware of the fifth figure watching them from afar. That figure's golden glow told them they had much more to fear than just petrification.
-OK-
"Why are we here again?" Harry asked as his shoes seeped into the mud.
"The Mandrake's screams are lethal, remember? I want to find a place away from everyone else so nobody gets hurt."
"Let's get a move on then. If we're not back in time for dinner, everyone will get suspicious. Plus, my socks are getting wet and it's far from a golden experience."
The two of them walked for a long time. Eventually, they found a large clearing that Neville found sufficient.
"Did you bring the materials?"
Smooth Criminal dropped them into his hands, "Two sets of earmuffs and some shears. Hermione added some extra enchantments to the earmuffs, so we're all set."
"Perfect," Neville took the earmuffs and the sheers. Then, he reached into his robes and brought out a leather pouch. "I've got the leaves. Now, we just need to-"
"Neville, wait. . . Do you hear that?"
It took a moment, but he could. The sounds of skittering legs above their heads. Harry notices now that spider webs are decorating the treetops.
"We've got company," Smooth Criminal popped into existence. ". . . Always wanted to say that, I feel like an action star."
The spiders took that cliché line as a chance to attack. They came in all sizes, from rats to small horses.
Neville growled and got to his feet. His body glowed red as he reached for a different leather pouch, "[Fall Out-]!"
"Neville, don't," Harry's Stand punched a spider into nothingness. "We've got a nuke in our arsenal right now. Freaking use it!"
"A nuke?" Neville looked down at his hand and everything became clear. "Right, I'll need a minute though!"
"Take your time," Harry drew his wand as his Stand rushed forward. He only knew simple things, like the tripping jinx, but it would stall for time.
"Why the bloody hell are there so many spiders anyway?" Neville asked as he dropped the leaves in FOB's hatch. "It's bollocks, [Fall Out Boy]!"
"Part of me-" Harry tripped up one spider as Smooth Criminal killed another. "Part of me wants to blame Hagrid."
"Earmuffs, Harry!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but he doesn't have a good- Oh right!" Harry threw the magic earmuffs on at the last second.
It took longer than expected, but the spiders started to drop. The Mandrakes grew larger and so did their body count.
Neville could feel his teeth rattling from the vibrations. The enchantments on the earmuffs were failing. As the last spider died, Neville fulfilled his mission. He took up the sheers and trimmed as many roots as possible.
"Come back, [Fall Out Boy]!"
The screaming stopped as Fall Out Boy returned to its user. Harry and Neville dropped to the ground, exhausted beyond belief.
Harry got up first, groaning all the while. He nudged Neville, "Come on, we need to leave before more come."
Neville groaned, "Fine, just give me a bloody minute."
-OK-
They returned from the forest. Neville counted ten Mandrake roots in their possession. The potion required, at least, three, which meant they had back-ups.
Following Draco's advice, Harry went to Professor Snape with their findings. Harry didn't like that advice, but he did it anyway. Snape had to be a professor for a reason, right?
"Professor?" Harry knocked on the door to the Potions classroom.
"You may enter. . ."
Harry opened the door, he'd walked in on Snape grading papers. The Professor looked up and scowled, "Potter, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to offer my assistance," Harry said. He took a seat in front of Snape, hands folded over one another.
"What makes you think I'd need, or even want, your assistance?"
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out four Mandrake roots. He placed them on Snape's desk as the Professor went wide-eyed. "This is what you need to save Collin and the cat, yeah?"
Snape looked at the roots like they spat in his face. "How on Earth did you get these? Did you steal them, Potter?"
Harry shook his head, "No, I didn't steal them. . . For once. I just happen to know a guy."
"And you expect me to trust the sanctity of these ingredients?"
"You're the potions master, Professor, you tell me." Harry looked deep into Snape's eyes and found him lacking.
His face turned bright red, "Why you-!"
"Goodbye, Professor," Harry walked away without a second glance.
With a sigh, Harry started walking back to Gryffindor. As he passed walls upon walls of paintings, he said, "Sorry, Draco, I gave him a chance. What happens next is up to him."
Neville and Hermione were still doing research when he got back. Hermione noticed his return first, "Harry, how did it go"
"Poorly," he collapsed into a comfy chair with a huge sigh of relief. "Hermione, do you think you could pull off that Mandrake potion?"
"It's a very high-level potion that very few can do," she said. "Get me the ingredients and I can have it done before Christmas."
"Done," Harry laid back, letting the comfort of the chair overtake him.
"Mister Potter."
Harry groaned and sat up. Seeing that it was Professor McGonagall, Harry rethought his opening statement. "Why, Professor McGonagall, what a pleasure to see you here."
"Your father tried those same tactics, Mister Potter. It didn't work on me then, it won't work on me now."
"Well, drat."
McGonagall hid the smallest of smiles behind her hand. "Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."
"Off to see the wizard, I guess," he stood up and turned to his friends. "Don't wait up for me."
"We won't," they said in stereo.
"Cheeky. . ."
Harry walked with Professor McGonagall, all the way to Dumbledore's office.
She said, "He's taken a liking to lemon drops," then left.
"Good to know, I guess," Harry walked up to the door. He tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. "Lemon drops?"
The doors parted, Harry shrugged and walked forward. Harry found Dumbledore's office to be a temple of temptation. So many random pieces of junk dotting the room. Harry's Sticky Fingers were twitching and Smooth Criminal wanted some action too.
But, what caught his eye most was the red bird sitting on a golden perch.
"Well, aren't you just lovely." Harry gave it a scratch under its chin. An instant later, the bird burst into flame. "What the bloody-!?"
"Ah, Mister Potter," Dumbledore walked in soon after.
"Oh god, I'm going to get a reputation at this point. Look, Headmaster, I did not kill your bird. He just spontaneously combusted. . . Now that I say it, it doesn't sound very convincing, but-!"
Dumbledore chuckled, "Worry not, my boy. Fawkes is a Phoenix, which means he has a variety of magical abilities. Healing tears, magical songs, and the ability to be reborn from the ashes of his death."
The ash shifted around. Then, a little head of red feathers poked its way out.
Harry huffed, "Color me impressed. So, why did you want me here, Professor?"
"Professor Snape informed me that you brought him some very high-quality Potion ingredients. One's relating to the incidents we face now. I wanted to ask where you acquired such materials?"
"Like I told the Professor, I know a guy." Harry scritched the tiny bird's head. "You'll use them to cure Collin, yeah? It's the kid's first year, he shouldn't have to spend it in the hospital wing."
"Yes, of course. . . By chance, is this 'guy' that you know happen to be Neville Longbottom?"
Harry didn't react in any sort of way. Dumbledore had shown his hand when he gave them the lesson about Soul Magic. Now Harry held the cards and he wasn't going to give the game away yet.
"Harry, my boy-" Harry had to restrain himself from attacking Dumbledore. The 'My Boy' thing was cute at first, but now it hit way too close to home. "I'm worried that you don't know what you're doing with these abilities. Soul magic is dangerous magic, dark magic. Whatever spell or ritual you performed, I'm sure it can be reversed."
"No spells, no rituals," Harry said. Fawkes preened under the attention Harry showered him with.
The headmaster looked surprised, yet unconvinced, "Then how?"
"Determination, fighting spirit, and a traumatic event. One that makes you think, with all your heart, that you're about to die."
"And you've experienced all of those things before coming to Hogwarts?"
Harry turned around, eyes full of fury. He glared into Dumbledore's twinkling irises, "Yes. I have."
The tension in the room grew to uncomfortable levels, yet neither would back down. Harry could feel Smooth Criminal trying to escape. Wanting to bring justice to his user. Harry sighed and broke away.
He could get away with a lot of things. Beating up the headmaster wasn't one of them. . . probably.
"Is that all you needed, Professor?"
Dumbledore appeared retrospective. It took a moment, but mumbled an answer, "Yes, you may go now."
"Goodbye, Professor," Harry tipped his hat low and walked out the door. It just proved his point. He couldn't trust someone whose first instinct was to lecture you.
None of that mattered anyhow. He had his friends and they had a plan. The four of them would end this Chamber of Secrets nonsense or die trying.
And Harry didn't feel like dying anytime soon.