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Chapter Text

Harry swore. He didn’t swear often (such language was generally frowned upon in 12 year olds) as he rather disliked drawing attention to himself. If time spent with the Dursley’s was good for anything, however, it was picking up some choice phrases. Dudley swore at his games, Vernon at his work, and Petunia at her pans.

Harry swore at Basilisks.

He didn’t think this was fair, exactly. He liked snakes. They never ran from him, or called him Freak, or hit him with frying pans. They also didn’t form opinions based on gossip, speculation, or really ill-thought conjecture. And then there was that one at the zoo. She had seemed so friendly! If she hadn’t wanted to see her home so badly, Harry probably would have asked her to be his friend, but he would never get between someone and their home.

Which led to a second thing. First, he liked snakes and would have liked to get to know a giant one (a giant magical snake he could talk to was so cool). Second, this was the giant snake’s home. It was rude to get between her and her home, particularly when that home was Hogwarts. Harry would be angry too, if someone got between him and Hogwarts (Dumbledore was not forgiven for denying him over summers, no he was not).

So it was complete and utter bullshit that this completely awesome giant snake had hurt Hermione as well as Ron’s sister. And was getting Hogwarts shut down when Harry still had several weeks left in his home. And also harmed several other students and a ghost, back when she wasn’t a ghost.

But mostly Hermione and Ron. They were his friends. They were not to be hurt.

So he felt very very justified in swearing as he ducked a piece of flying rubble and dodged a raging tail. Ducking and dodging were also valuable skills picked up at the Dursley’s, and Harry was quite well practiced, so he had plenty of breath to spare for his non-magical curses.

He could have possibly used magical curses, if Lockhart had bothered to teach them any, and if the Riddle not-a-ghost-thing wasn’t currently holding his wand. One of those issues seemed like a larger problem than the other, to be honest, though the giant magical snake chasing him around a corner, through a large pipe, and past a pillar was probably the highest on his list.

Hermione liked lists. She would have approved of him prioritizing. She would not have approved of the dead end he was facing. He didn’t much like it either.

Harry swore again, in parseltongue, not that he noticed, banging his scraped-up fist against the wall as he spun and cursed Voldemort’s taste in lairs. Emergency exits were important! 

He could hear the basilisk coming, skin rasping against the cool stone, and Harry’s eyes roved across the chamber he’d, mistakenly, ducked into after exiting the pipe. It wasn’t large, but he might be able to duck around the snake if he timed his motion correctly around the snake’s entrance into the room.

Ron could probably have come up with something better, but Ron wasn’t here, and Harry had to get to Ron’s sister for him. Still, Harry honoured his chess-playing friend by moving in front of a section of wall slightly off centre from the entrance that looked a bit sketchy and more likely to collapse if several hundred pounds of angry reptile crashed into it at speed.

He didn’t bother to stop cursing either, though he did keep himself to a low mutter, figuring that the snake could hear his rapidly beating heart, panting breaths, and the occasional drop of blood from somewhere on his elbow just fine, even if the constant splashing of his steps didn’t give him away.

In fact, as he scanned the murky reflections in the water for an incoming giant snake, Harry felt he had time to get creative.

“Because a giant bloody snake isn’t enough, nooo, I can’t actually look at it unless I want to die, because that would make my life just the slightest bit easier and that certainly isn’t allowed. Not for Harry Potter. No, Harry Potter gets to face frying pans and giant snakes and wannabe Dark Lords who don’t know good enough to stay bloody dead.”

He almost stomped his foot, except the water was cold and he’d already soaked his pants well beyond his knees and his tattered sleeves up to his elbows. That green icy liquid was not going near his face if he had any choice in the matter. Which he probably didn’t, but he’d damn well try.

“No, idiot Dark Lords can’t just keep possessing idiot teachers but have to go and corrupt a Merlin damned basilisk just like Merlin damned Slytherin had to corrupt the entire idea of snakes in this wonderful castle that apparently has a bloody stupid chamber that hasn’t been cleaned since it was built! 

“”Harry doesn’t get parents, Harry doesn’t get family, Harry doesn’t get friends that can stay bloody safe, and Harry doesn’t get to talk to anyone about how cool snakes are ever again! No, Harry gets a thrice-cursed Dark Lord who can’t even kill a toddler or an eleven year old when said Dark Lord’s an adult but can kill a teenager as a teenager and an entire school that’s so stupid as to think that some bloody maniac centuries ago and his bloody maniac heir are the only one who can like snakes and that any one who does now is evil!

“Killing Myrtle is evil! Killing my parents is evil! Starting a war is evil! Asking a snake which way to your second Care of Magical Creature’s class is not - Bloody hell! How the bloody hell did you get here so quietly?”

Harry would have sworn he only looked away a moment, it’s not like he was full out pacing, but still, there before him was a basilisk with over a third of her body in the room, towering above and watching him mutter.

And the snake was definitely watching him, one frying pan-sized eye staring out of oddly wrinkled skin as Harry stared just above the water, trying to determine which way it would move from the ripples in the water.

“I am a giant magical snake, Queen of all Hunters, why should I not move silently if I wish?”

Harry nodded, because that made sense. “Fair point.” He waited, muscles tightening as they prepared for their most recent feat of death-defying dodging, and then waited some more. Then he realized the basilisk seemed to be waiting, too.“Um. Not that I’m complaining. But why aren’t- why are you speaking to me now?” Harry figured it would be better to not bring up the lack of attacking as long as she wasn’t attacking.

“I didn’t realize you could Speak.”

Only now did Harry realize how much of his cursing was actually in parseltongue, though he supposed it made sense because snakes were definitely the focus of his complaints. That and Dark Lords who used their image. Or, well, their very large and very real bodies. He also hadn’t spoken parseltongue in the main chamber with Riddle, so Harry supposed the fact that the basilisk hadn’t realized made sense.

Maybe.

“Does this mean you won’t eat me?” He figured it never hurt to ask.

“I must eliminate all threats to Master’s school.” She didn’t move, though.

Harry crossed his arms, scowl pulling at his mouth. “I’m not a threat to the school. It’s my home.”

“You do make a very small threat.”

Water splashed as he flailed his arms, stumbling a step back. “I know I’m short, okay, but you need proper meals to become a bloody giant and not all of us have families that supply meals or, you know, very large amounts of rats.

The basilisk did move at this, rearing her head back and flashing a gleam of white fang that had Harry freezing mid-indignant gesture. “You’re a hatchling!” Her head slipped slightly to the side in a very human-like sign of confusion. “I don’t eliminate hatchlings.”

Harry scoffed, “Tell that to Myrtle,” before briefly closing his eyes in resignation. Hermione would hit him on the head for that level of stupidity. Maybe he deserved to be turned to not-stone or killed.

“I do not know this Myrtle. Is she you partner? Is she the threat? I can let you go, Speaker-hatchling, if you promise not to harm Master’s school and give me the threat.” The basilisk inched forward, the water making a faint sound as she lowered her head, not to Harry’s level, but closer to the ground, as if trying to be less threatening.

It didn’t really work, but Harry wasn’t really paying attention to the part anyways. He was looking at a dark patch of darker scales several feet down from the basilisk’s head, frowning. They almost looked like they were writhing. Then he spoke, slowly, straightening out of his crouch but still tense enough to run if need be.

“Myrtle was the student that was killed fifty years ago when the Chamber was last opened.”

“One of Master’s students was killed?” She reared back, head banging into the ceiling and knocking loose some rubble. Harry missed her slow blink as he raised his hands to protect his own head, eyes squeezed shut so as not to accidentally meet her gaze.

“Not really? She was a Ravenclaw, I think.

“That doesn’t matter!” The basilisk was swaying in agitation, the thrashing of her tail audible in the pipe through the stone walls. “Master protects all Hogwarts hatchlings! Where is her killer! I will bite them and poison them and drain their life with my eyes!”

There was a low groan as her tail hit the pipe, walls rumbling their displeasure. Harry could practically hear his muscles straining as he both tried to watch what he couldn’t look at and the walls which he couldn’t do anything about. “Um, about that. It was kind of you?”

“What.” The water stilled.

“When your Master opened the chamber last. A student was crying in the washroom and saw him open it for you and she met your eyes and kind of died? But still haunts the bathroom?”

“Liar.” Harry flinched. He didn’t think her lowering her head this time was meant to be non-threatening. “My Master would never do such a thing.”

He eyed up the distance between the pipe and the crumbling wall behind them. The basilisk was still awesome, and he felt badly that she was clearly confused, but she was also clearly at the top of his list of problems. So he decided to be honest. Brutally honest. “Well, your master is batshit insane and murdered my parents with the end goal of killing a toddler, so I think that train has long left the station.”

“You will not insult my Master!” She screeched, or maybe it was a scream. Either way, Harry had never heard, nor expected to ever hear, such as sound from a snake, much less one the size of a house. The noise ricocheted across the room as he dived for the pipe, the disgusting water getting in his face after all as he used the foot of liquid to cushion his fall.

Ron would be proud of him; the wall Harry had been eying absolutely crumpled when the basilisk hit it. Hermione would be less proud. Apparently, it was a load bearing wall, or maybe the screech had destabilized something important, because more than just that wall collapsed. Several large chunks of the ceiling started raining down and Harry really had to put his dodging skills to use.

When he stopped moving he started swearing again, this time at the pipe entrance that was clear of snake but not of rock. Harry turned to assess how screwed he actually was, and was met by the picture of a rather dazed basilisk shaking her head like one of Aunt Marge’s dogs that time he’d actually managed to kick it in the face in order to buy Harry enough time to get up a tree.

He opened his mouth, to say what he’ll never know, because one last person-sized slab of rock fell from the ceiling, directly onto the basilisk’s head.

Right then and there Harry resolved to lie to Hermione about this particular adventure. He would absolutely get brain damage from her slap if he admitted to the girl that his first reaction was not to try and flee through the blocked passage, or even to rejoice that the monster might be dead, but to instead say, “Bloody hell, are you alright?”

“Owwww.”

Harry was going with no, not okay. He upped it to really not okay when he saw those black splotches on her skin flex in a motion that was completely independent of the squirming moves the giant snake was making.

“Um, are your spots supposed to be moving?”

“Ow. Ow ow. I do not have spots, hatchling.”

“You do, though? Black ones, though they’re kind of hard to see against the grey, particularly in the gloom of these stupid tunnels.”

She stared at him, he could feel her stare, even as he focused on one of the spots near her tail in order to prevent himself from looking back.

His self-preservation instincts weren’t sending up any alarms though, and despite what Hermione thought, he did actually have fully functioning set of danger senses. They were just really honed on immediate threats. Worrying about the creep neighbour down the street was a waste of time when there could be a pan coming for him in the next moment. The same could be said about a Dark Lord coming to get him at some vague point in the future, while he had exams next week that failing could get him kicked out of Hogwarts.

Considering his current situation with a baby Dark Lord several corridors away for the second time in two years, Harry might need to rethink this philosophy.

Regardless, Harry was pretty sure the basilisk wasn’t going to attack him. If anything, she seemed more confused than before. And considering he didn’t have another exit, well, talking had been working before. Sort of. He’d just avoid insulting her Master.

Well. He’d try.

Once again, however, he didn’t actually get a chance to speak. The basilisk had switched from staring at Harry to studying her own hide, nose lowering close to the grey and black scales that had wrinkled up oddly under the weight of several large stones that were still pinning her tail.

The shriek came back. Harry really didn’t need the shriek to come back. The sound had certain similarities to when Ron saw a spider but at much higher volume. It took a moment for the ringing to subside, the pressure of his hands on his ears not helping anything at all, enough for him to pick out her words. “-off. Not black not grey but GREEN. Emerald. Viridian. Jade. GREEN. Get it off. Get it off!”

“Um.” Harry felt that single word summed up his thoughts and feelings quite nicely. Not so nice was the fact that saying said word netted him a large head swinging back in his direction. He threw up his hands to block his eyes, nose pressed into the crook of his elbow tight enough to fully appreciate the fact that green water didn’t smell very good.

Merlin, he hated being wet. Everything was so much heavier, even the smells.

“Hatchling. Hatchling, stop being stupid. I’ve lowered the membrane in my eyes. You won’t be harmed. Now. Help me get it off!!”

Harry peeked around his elbow, at the place her skin was peeking out from under a rock instead of at her eyes. He wasn’t that much of an idiot, Hermione.

“You want me to help you remove your skin?”

“Yes, Hatchling! Snakes moult. I moult! This skin feels like paper shackles! I should have been free of it long ago. And I am green! GREEN. Not grey, not spotted. GREEN.” Her head lowered to touch the water with the faintest splash, her tone lowering to match. Harry could actually hear the low, round sibilants this time. “This skin hurts.”

Parseltongue or not, Harry knew that tone. Knew the underlying hints of defeat and pain so constant that it was mostly ignored. Mostly unnoticed until one big thing, like an unexpected moment of calm or a sudden extra pan to the shoulder had it exploding into awareness across your entire body.

Yeah, he was going to get the skin off.

He wasn’t sure how, exactly, even as he found his feet carrying him forward, though, oddly, the snake didn’t seem to notice. She seemed to be too focused on muttering. Murmuring? A low snake-like sound of repeated words.

“Don’t deserve it off. Tried to harm hatchling. Speaker hatchling. Master would be so disappointed. Killed student. Remember now. Sort of. Hazy. Master’s Hogwarts student. Master so sad. So sad. Deserve pain for disappointing Master. For harming hatchlings. Deserve-“

She cuts off the moment Harry’s palm touches her skin. He doesn’t notice, to busy mumbling himself, jumping from “Holy bloody hell I’m touching a basilisk” to “What the fuck, she is green.”

A beautiful green that reminds him of trees. Not the manicured pale trees of the park back in Surrey, but the deep vitality of the Forbidden Forest, pulsing with a life that constantly danced on the edge of danger, of surviving brightly.

The green slashed down like scars, tracing long patterns down her back, yet that wasn’t right, since scars marred skin and these lines of green were cool and bright and smooth under his touch.

Harry lifted his left hand to touch the grey skin next to a particularly large swath of green, though he only poked at it with two fingers instead of resting his hand palm down like he had with the green.

It felt ugly. Thin and brittle and light, like paper made of oil. It felt like an oozing black thing crawling along his fingers and reaching up towards his magic. It felt like Quirrell, like Riddle, like Vernon when he wanted things to go exactly his way.

Harry hadn’t even poked at one of the black spots yet, and he was pretty sure they were the source of the problem, like sources of mould infecting its surroundings as it grew.

He trailed his fingers down the green to the end, reaching a V of peeling grey skin clearly disturbed and distorted by dragging rocks as the basilisk has thrashed. A light tug and the scales peeled away in a thin strip, tearing surprisingly lightly in way Harry was pretty sure snake skins, even ones that were in the process of moulting, weren’t meant to do. Brilliant green scales revealed themselves underneath.

He looked up, thoughts of green still spilling through his head, and met glowing yellow eyes surrounded by yet more green. The Basilisk’s entire head was mostly green, grey skin peeling down to her neck like a demented flower collar. Harry supposed that made sense, considering the amount of rock that had scraped by her head and the fact that snakes generally started shedding from their heads anyways. The skin would be weaker there, particularly if it was as old as it felt.

“Who’s your Master?”

The basilisk blinked, slowly, clearly not expecting the question. “What.”

“I don’t think you killed Master’s students, not exactly. Who is you master?” His hand curled into a fist while still holding the dead grey skin, which cracked and crumpled away into thick oily dust that was almost indistinguishable from the crushed stone dirt and debris.

“But remember now. Remember looking at the student. So sad as she died. Master Slytherin would be so sad.”

Harry didn’t look away from those lantern eyes, couldn’t have if he tried, though magic had nothing to do with it. “Slytherin.”

“Yes, Master Slytherin. Protective Master. ‘Beloved heart, when I’m gone, you must protect the students, don’t let the outside fear into our home, that is the burden and duty I place with you. That I entrust to you.’ I have failed beloved Master.” Her head hung low, sending the smallest of ripples out across the water.

“But it’s not your fault!” Harry still hadn’t touched the black spots dotting her hide, and had no plans to do so. They were warped by the peeling and folding skin, but still had powerful edges. “These are runes! Hermione pointed them out to me to try and get me to take that elective with her, and they feel gross. I don’t actually know what they do, but Voldemort was a genius, even as a kid! If you refused to hurt Hogwarts students even based on their blood status-“

“Protect all of Hogwarts students. Master was clear. Never hurt them. Never.”

“-then he would have tried to control you! Maybe by using runes! Which is another thing I know nothing about.” His kick to the water was not pouting, it was frustration, completely legitimate frustration.

He didn’t jump when a large yellow eye lowered itself to his head level before turning so a snout could gently bop him in the chest.

“Off.”

“Um.”

“Start at my head. Use spine for balance.”

Harry stared at the spine for a moment, it really wasn’t that far from a tooth the size of his forearm. And then he shrugged. There were certain points in life where you were just too far gone to change course, such as when you were in a flying car about to crash into a somewhat sentient tree. Or about to peel dead and probably cursed skin off a giant snake.

Harry climbed up, hands gripping without too much difficulty on smooth green scales before he settled behind just above the dead flower collar of skin. It wasn’t difficult, exactly, not with how light the skin was, but the basilisk was a big snake.

“This might take awhile. Don’t suppose you have some magic to help?”

“Basilisks are magic, we don’t do magic.”

“Right.” Harry began tugging the skin downwards, tempted to use his feet to see if he could push it off.

“Do you not have magic that could be of assistance?” Her tongue flicked as she started helpfully and surprisingly carefully wriggling against some of the rocks to loosen more of the skin.

“I’m a kid. A second year. My spell knowledge isn’t that great. And Voldemort has my wand. Can’t you moult this stuff like you normally do?” Harry wasn’t petulant when he asked. He wasn’t. She was just, well, large.

“Parselmagic doesn’t always require a wand. And no, or would have done long before now. What is this ‘Voldemort’ and can I eat it?”

“Parselmagic? As in magic in parseltongue? Well, that’d be helpful. And he’s the ass that likely covered you in runes that robbed you of your free will and made it difficult to moult them off. I thought he was your Master.”

She reared her head back, which would have unbalanced Harry if he wasn’t used to staying on a broom while doing crazy stunts in the air.  “Never! I am Master Slytherin’s familiar. Would not choose a new Master. Would not.”

“Yeah,” Harry tugged a particularly large piece off and let it fall to the water, “I get that now.” It definitely wasn’t the time to get into Slytherin’s reputation and that fact that it really wasn’t much better than Voldemort’s, all things considered. “Don’t suppose you know how that wandless parselmagic is supposed to work? I would be really nice for everything to just sort of listen if I went ‘off!’

The dead skin trembled and flaked, and Harry stared at it, fist on his hip. “Seriously? Seriously. Well, ok. Off. Off. OFF!” The skin continued to flake, falling off at a much higher pace in in larger chunks with the barest brush of his hands, hitting the water with light thwaps before dissolving away. “Pretty sure magic isn’t supposed to work like this; Hermione will have me head for breaking rules again.”

“I am Master Slytherin’s familiar. Am very helpful in spell casting, particularly for a Speaker’s Parselmagic.”

Harry nodded, that made sense with what he knew about familiars amplifying magic, sort of. He thought it would need to be his familiar to have that kind of effect, but this was a giant, ancient, magical snake so who really knew. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, hatchling!” The basilisk wiggled again, in time to Harry’s occasional commands, before continuing, “Thank you, hatchling.”

“You’re welcome. No one deserves to be controlled, least of all by Voldemort.”

“Tell me about this Voldemort, and why you thought he was my Master, hatchling.”

It wasn’t the oddest conversation Harry had ever been a part of, that still probably went to Hagrid telling him that magic not only existed, but that he was also famous for something he had no memory of to boot. Harry had to admit, though, that explanations to a giant snake about how a crazy megalomaniac had started a war, killed his parents, been defeated by a baby, and yeah, opened her Master’s precious chamber to forcibly take her body over when she wouldn’t concede to what he saw as his birthright was a pretty close second. Particularly since he did it while sitting astride her back and helping her escape magic skin and felled rocks.

He ran out of things to say just as the were finishing up with the moulting. The occasional yell of “off!” may have slowed the conversation, but it definitely sped up the escape, so he wasn’t complaining.

About that. He was definitely complaining about the disgusting water that was leaving a film in his hair and the dust from the rapidly decaying skin that was caking itself over his tattered sleeves and various cuts and bruises.

Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t be impressed.

“I need a bath.”

“I believe there should be a clear spot near one of the natural springs a cavern or two down. My memories are sort of coming back now that dreadful skin is gone.” She gave a shake the resembled nothing so much as a wet poodle, though Harry would take that comparison to his grave. “I don’t know what happened to the plumbing and pipework down here but this is disgraceful.”

Harry moaned at the thought of clean water and rest, the magic had been helpful but his hands felt like they might be stuck as permanent claws. But, alas, rest never seemed to be his lot. “As lovely as that sounds, and I do mean lovely, I still need to go get Ginny away from Riddle.”

He felt a pang of guilt at the thought he’d left Ron’s sister so long, but, really, the giant Basilisk had absolutely deserved the top spot of his Immediate Concern List. Additionally, thanks to Voldemort’s monologuing and Harry’s excellent internal clock (another useful skill the Dursleys had inadvertently given him), he knew he had a least an hour left before Voldemort successfully took over Ginny’s life force.

Literally stealing a life wasn’t a quick process (apparently, neither was gathering rescue parties; the Professors really should have better response times).

The basilisk froze, halting in the process of removing one of the larger boulders blocking the exit with a strong and surprisingly gentle tail. Harry was rather proud that he didn’t take a step back, and still met her gaze.

Her tail swished, throwing the boulder over his head to join the pile of ruble from the wall and rook.

“False-lord is here?”

“Well, sort of. He had Ginny back in the main chamber. Didn’t I- didn’t I explain this bit? Seems like a big thing to miss…” His voice trailed back into a mumbles as he whipped dirty palms on dirty pants. He supposed he had delved into a bit of a tangent what with making sure to cover Voldemort’s stupid parent-killing tendencies, and his stupid child-attacking tendencies, and his stupid face.

The noise that Harry let out, a cross between a poisoned mouse and a dying hypogriff, was another thing that he was never going to tell Hermione. Or Ron. Or anyone. Ever. Even if he felt it was completely justified when being picked up by giant teeth hooking into his tattered robes in order for a giant basilisk to carry him like a beleaguered kitten down a giant pipe.

“Um.”

“I will eat the false-lord.” Only a snake could speak so clearly even as her teeth remained closed in Harry’s collar.

“Um.” Harry hung there, taking a moment to see if he could scrape together something resembling dignity. He failed, though he challenged anyone to have dignity being gently carried in a giant basilisk’s jaws less than an hour after said basilisk tried to kill them. Instead he hastily gathered something that could possibly be called composure, at least under the crappy lighting of dingy pipes. “That might be difficult.”

She dropped him. Gently. And nosed him in the stomach in what Harry would bet was meant to be an affectionate gesture. She ended up knocking him back several steps because Harry’s knees were a little weak.

He wasn’t going to apologize for that. It had been a very trying day.

He realized that they had stopped just behind and outside of an arch that would take them into the main chamber. Which, considering the fact that it had taken them much less time to get here than it had to get to the little now collapsed chamber of their talk, meant that Harry had either been running in a large circle or had been significantly more lost than he’d thought. Joy.

“Stay. I will be careful. I will eat the false-lord. You will be safe.”

Harry watched the basilisk as she slithered into the hall, marginally flabergasted. Not so much for being treated like a dog, he sincerely doubted a centuries old snake would be capable of treating him like a pet, but at her very blatant regard for both his words and safety. He kind of liked the feeling.

He also liked knowing what was going on. Riddle’s shout had been fairly loud, so Harry knew the baby Voldemort had realized that his basilisk wasn’t exactly his anymore, but that snake was still damn quiet. Though Harry supposed that eating a book wouldn’t exactly be noisy.

Wait. Had he mentioned the diary? He thought back to his rant on Voldemort’s stupidness. He thought about the details about the Myrtle incident fifty years ago. He thought on what he’d said about the stupid students thinking him responsible for the attacks.

Harry thought about Ron’s face if Ron came back (with that still very absent rescue party) and his sister had been magically consumed by Voldemort. Or crushed by giant snake that was on their side but also very angry. And very giant.

Harry sighed, and crept forward to peek around the arch, figuring he may be Gryffindor enough to forge ahead, but maybe he could be Slytherin enough to do it carefully.

His foresight turned out to be a very good thing, since Harry immediately had to throw both hands over his mouth to keep from laughing. The taste of the water on his palms was enough to suppress the urge, but Merlin, Harry was never going to forget the sight of a young Voldemort playing the mole in the best game of whack-a-mole he’d ever seen.

The basilisk was curled around Ginny, and Harry would bet every galleon he owned that she’d also have several holes in her robes from basilisk-scruff carrying, while the snake’s head rose high up to the ceiling before crashing down with terrifying speed and accuracy.

Riddle no longer looked quite so perfect. His hair was in his eyes, his robes were askew, and his magic (Ginny’s magic) flashed. But he wasn’t bleeding. Not a single one of the basilisk’s strikes nor his own tumbles to the floor (Harry was much better at dodging) led to a single injury.

Quickly scanning the room, figuring the basilisk had Riddle locked in a pretty solid stalemate at the very least, Harry finally found the diary lying discard in the shadow of a statue. Clearly, he had not mentioned it’s significance. Another thing not to tell Hermione.

The floor of the main chamber was raised and out of the water. Harry therefore made no sound as he crept towards the book, ducking around the edge of the room and hiding behind the statues as he went. He wanted to be fast, but fast was never the best way to go unnoticed. This was just an advanced game of Harry Hunting, except his opponent wasn’t Dudley and his friends, but instead a magic apparition Harry didn’t want to alert and a friendly basilisk Harry didn’t want to distract.

Riddle’s stolen wand sparked rust red as he yelled, “You’ll will obey me!”

“You are not my Master.” The basilisk’s tail thrashed before it hit the ground with a slam.

“I am Slytherin’s heir!”

“You are a mean child who wants what he doesn’t deserve. I will tell you now what I told you fifty years ago before you stole my will and dulled my memory; Master would never want an heir such as you.” Her hiss almost seemed several notes below parseltongue, echoing around the region where it was almost a growl.

“Slytherin’s beast, obey me and stop!”

She didn’t. At this point, no one really expected her to, at least no one sane. “‘Beast’ is not my name!”

Harry’s sneaking was going quite well, actually, since the two others were holding each other’s attention nicely. At least until he reached the diary. The second he put his hands on the cool leather, Riddle whipped around, eyes gleaming with red from beneath lank bangs. “You. You did this. Give me back my monster!”

Riddle lunged, face distorted, but he wasn’t as fast as the basilisk. She slammed herself off the ground, racing forward with a cry of “Hatchling!”

A detached sense of calm went through Harry when he realized she wouldn’t make it first. Not with Riddle having started out closer and having seen Harry before she did. Nor would Harry be able to dodge in time. The shaking in his legs had only gotten worse as the chill of the chamber set into the damp, never mind the terror and exhaustion.

Harry didn’t think Riddle would be deterred by some conversation and a collapsing wall. He had no magic. He had no time. He had no plan.

He did have the diary, even if not for much longer. He did have a raging basilisk, even if she might be a bit late. He did have superior hand-eye coordination, even if spotting a tiny, fluttering ball was a bit different than his current situation.

Harry threw the diary over Riddle’s outstretched hand with a cry of, “Eat it!”

Riddle turned just in time to watch with Harry as giant jaws closed over the book before snapping shut with a click.

They paused, all three of them, waiting for something to happen, before an ugly smirk grew like fungus over Riddle’s face. “It’s too late! You thought you could pull one over on me? I am victorious! I have returned! I-“

“Taste terrible.” The basilisk barred her teeth in what could only be a grimace. “Truly terrible. I want a cow. A big one. And maybe a deer. Something to wash that down with. Yuck.”

Harry once again found himself staring. First at the spot that Riddle had been standing in, then at the now gagging basilisk. He was sure there was something he was supposed to say now. Or do. Something important?

“Thank you.” Manners were definitely important. He nodded firmly, before starting to head over to Ginny.

“You’re welcome, hatchling!”

“Can I ask a question?” Harry almost winced at his own tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so tentative.

“Of course, hatchling!” She kept pace with him, draping her body in large circles around where he was walking.

“What is your name?”

“What?” Her head reared back.

“You told Riddle that ‘Slytherin’s beast’ wasn’t your name. So you have one. Will you tell me what it is?” Harry ran his hands over the torn fabric in his knees twice.

“Hastiti. My Master named me Hastiti. He said it sounded pretty.”

Harry nodded as he slid to his knees and felt Ginny’s thankfully strong pulse. “Has-tee-tee.” Harry rolled the sounds in his mouth. “It is pretty. Suits you.”

“Thank you, hatchling.” She hesitated, placing her head down on the ground to watch the students carefully. The damp prevented any rock dust from puffing up, but there was still a quiet little thump from the weight of her skull. “Hatchling, may I ask a question of my own?”

“Sure, fairs fair.”

“What’s a frying pan?”

“What?” He stumbled, despite not even standing, hand falling flat against the rough stone floor to catch himself.

“It was part of your earlier rant; ‘Harry Potter gets to face frying pans and giant snakes and wannabe Dark Lords.’”

“I wasn’t ranting!” He was ranting. And now he was facing the consequences.

“What is a frying pan that it was placed on par with myself when mad and the Riddle false-lord. Is it something else that will be attacking? Do I need to eat it?”

Harry sputtered. “It’s- I- It’s for cooking? Making breakfast, usually?” He stopped there, hoping she would, too.

Alas. “Cook-ware attacks you?” Harry hadn’t known that basilisk’s could look puzzled, yet there was a slight movement in the scales around Hastiti’s eyes that proved they could.

“Well, not really?” Harry ducked his head to avoid her amber eyes. “It just sometimes, hits me?”

He felt a cool nose touch him lightly on the head and his bangs blew back a bit from the force of her breath. “A hit is an attack, nestling. I know lots about curses. Master was good with them. We’ll stop the attacking cook-ware even if I cannot eat it.”

Harry winced, but still raised one hand to trace the cool silk of Hastiti’s scales. “It’s not cursed. My Aunt Petunia-“

“Nest mother hits you?” The dangerous hiss, the one that sounded like a snake even to Harry who normally couldn’t tell when he was speaking parseltongue, the one that had been in Hastiti’s entire exchange with Riddle, was back.

“No! My aunt. My mother’s sister. I’m an orphan, remember?”

“Nest mother doesn’t mean blood. Not acceptable. Speaker-hatchling, Mater’s student, my rescuer is not to be hit! I will bite her.” And then she nodded, once, decisively, and Harry wasn’t sure if she was picking up his mannerisms or if, Merlin forbid, that gesture was copied from Slytherin long ago.

“Um, she doesn’t actually live at Hogwarts. She’s a muggle.”

“No matter, I will go with you and bite her.”

Merlin help him, she looked like she was about to charge out of the chamber right this minute, tail flicking back in forth in oddly silent warning. And that didn’t warm some tiny, suppressed part of his heart. No, it did not.

“Um.”

Hastiti suddenly drooped, her long neck draping to the floor in a sudden collapse that was from the careful lowering she’d down to more closely observe Harry before. “Unless you do think I would make good nest mother? I killed master’s student; I do not deserve such a good hatchling.”

And wow, Harry was learning so much about snakes today. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone embody the word ‘morose’ so cleanly (Hermione’s tutoring was definitely paying off) and he’d spent years living in cupboard. The look was very very wrong on many many levels.

“No! No, that’s Voldemort’s fault and he’s a creep, not you!” Harry wanted to be very clear on that. Hastiti was so nice. Nice and helpful. No one had ever actually faced a problem instead of him before.

“Then you accept me as new nest mother!” In one swift movement Hastiti had recovered from her depression, deposited Harry on her back by way of the bedraggled kitten method, and grabbed Ginny in a similar manner before passing her back into Harry’s arms.

His hands reflexively closed on Ginny’s wrist and back, taking a moment to orient himself.

“You think I’m a good hatchling?” His voice was quiet. So quiet that he was almost surprised that Hastiti heard him. Not more surprised than by her answer though.

“Of course! Hatchling saved me and weak nestling and defended Master’s school!”

Harry blinked before ducking his head, nose brushing Ginny’s hair and getting a whiff of sewer water. “Only to save my friends and my home. I don’t really care about the rest of them. I’m not good.” 

“You look after nestmates, that is good,” Hastiti’s voice was firm. Absolute belief filtering in between the shifting sibilants.  “You protect what’s yours, very snake-like. Master would approve.”

That was it. Her Master would approve of Harry’s actions, so they were completely justified. Harry traced one hand over the cool scales of Hastiti’s back, each one larger than his palm, a mini-shield protecting her from harm.

Hastiti didn’t think less of him for being focused on protecting his friends. His home. She thought it worthy of approval. Of being good.

He was quiet as they made their way to the wall of rubble that Lockhart had caused. Ron wasn’t there. Nor was a rescue party. It was just him and Ginny and a giant snake. 

“I can’t take you with me, though.” His voice was even smaller.

“There is a spell. Parselmagic is good for certain things, like healing! Has not your teacher taught you this?” Hastiti’s tone was downright gleeful.

“No one’s taught me parseltongue. They hate it, actually.”

“But that’s preposterous. I will teach you! As proper nest mother! What I remember, at least. There is spell to make me smaller, so will always be with you! Unless, you wouldn’t want nest mother like me around always. I’ve failed Master and harmed his students.”

“No, no! Teach me. I want you.” His voice lowered, slumping out of parseltongue for the first time since they’d faced Riddle. “I want a family.” A mother. She was offering to be a mother, one who who actually protected him. Maybe loved him? Would at least protect him. And teach him things that he probably really needed to know, since clearly Voldemort wasn’t quite the non-threat people made him out to be.

“Excellent! I will bite Petunia Pan!”

“I think we’ll need some ground rules.”

“I will be small. Bite might not be fatal.”

Harry paused. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Chapter Text

Harry sucked on his third lemon drop and wondered if he could filch a handful from the bowl when the adults weren’t looking. It wouldn’t even be particularly hard; the adults weren’t really looking at all.

At least not at him.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were focused on Ginny and Ron, which Harry felt was fair enough.  Ron’s attention was also, again quite fairly, on his sister. Harry had gotten a hug from Ron earlier, a quick and desperate one that wasn’t quite was overpowering as Mrs. Weasley’s, yet infinitely more precious.

Snape and McGonagall were focused on Dumbledore. Harry felt McGonagall could be excused for her lack of attention towards him, since she ws actually advocating getting the younger Weasleys and Harry to the hospital wing.

Dumbledore was focused … somewhere. Harry wasn’t actually sure where, exactly. Ostensibly Dumbledore’s attention was on his staff, but something about the way his eyes twinkled seemed distracted. His eyes also kept sliding behind McGonagall to a shelf filled with fancy knickknacks and old weaponry. Harry supposed that gold filagree and silver swords were quite distracting.

Distraction was good. Harry could use distraction to his advantage, and regularly did to avoid Dudley. Getting more candy was distinctly to his advantage, particularly since the drops were helping to get rid of the lingering taste of scummy water.

Harry had briefly tried to throw his lot in with McGonagall and advocate for the Hospital Wing, which had earned him a very concerned look from his Head of House, but really, he just thought it would be the fastest route to a shower. Also, that water was green. Green. He maybe wouldn’t mind Madame Pomfrey looking at his open wounds and scratches.

Hastiti certainly wasn’t impressed with the lot of them; Harry could feel her circling around his stomach and up to his shoulder in agitation. The Parseltongue spell had actually been really simple, something that Harry rather hoped would continue to be the theme with Parselmagic, and he had shrunk Hastiti to just under a foot without much difficulty. Unless it counted as a difficulty that she had wanted to be large enough to perch on his shoulders and he had insisted on her being able to hide in his clothes, at least until he could figure out how exactly to introduce her to his friends, teachers, and the Wizarding world at large.

He wouldn’t trade the smooth weight of Hastiti against his skin for much of anything, even if he’d only had her a brief amount of time. He wasn’t, however, exactly racing to be thrown back into the whole Slytherin’s heir thing by the school’s gossip mill, so felt some discretion was advised.

That thought Hastiti approved. Apparently, Harry was to be encouraged in using his Slytherin side more often. Harry wasn’t opposed to this, not really. Not if it let him keep the longest-lasting hug of his life, scales and all.

And also more candy. He was being sneaky in his planning and would be cunning in his execution.

Harry inched forward in his seat, timing his motion exactly to a snarky comment from Snape, knowing the general outcry would be excellent cover. Before he succeed however, two drops rolled gently into Harry’s hand. He glanced up, slowly, expecting to see twinkling icy eyes, but instead met the glow of low-banked fire. Fawkes crooned once, sweet and low, before nudging a drop forward when Harry took too long picking it up. The swish of a long feather brushing over Harry’s hand was perfectly sufficient cover for Harry to swipe the candy into his pockets.

He eyed the magical bird, not so much suspiciously as wondering if he was close enough to casually run his fingers down Fawkes’s back. The warmth from the firebird had been so nice. And so soft.

By the time McGonagall and Dumbledore finally came to an agreement, Fawkes was sitting on Harry’s knee. The Phoenix was letting out tiny little trills, in what Harry was guessing was the bird form of purring, at every tentative stoke and Harry was calm enough to be fighting drooping eyelids.

McGonagall was less calm. She and Snape were to see all the Weasleys out to the Hospital Wing while Harry remained for a talk with the Headmaster. Harry’s Head of House had rather looked like she wanted to feed Dumbledore’s ‘I really must insist’ to a fully grown and not perfectly friendly basilisk. It was probably best that Harry had kept the fact he had a basilisk who would absolutely help McGonagall out very quiet. 

Harry refused to admit that McGonagall’s expression, coupled with Ron’s concerned stare as he was ushered out of the office, had anything to do with the warm feeling in his chest. Surely that warmth was a byproduct of phoenix cuddles. The quick brush of hands through his hair (because of course a phoenix wouldn’t deter the twins) also had nothing to do with said warmth or any other mushy feelings that Harry didn’t have.

Because he didn’t have those feelings, Hastiti’s lowly hissed comments about flaming chickens she couldn’t eat while they were making her nestling happy didn’t make the warmth in his chest grow. At all.

No, Harry would deny to anyone that Hastiti’s quiet comments about his happiness had the last bits of tension bleeding from his shoulders. He would also deny that he was pretty sure Fawkes was proud of his contribution to Harry’s relaxation, maybe even a bit smug, since Harry couldn’t really put a single finger on how he knew. He was absolutely bloody sure that the phoenix trilling in Harry’a lap knew there was also a basilisk in his robes, though.

Dumbledore probably didn’t, but the soft edges of the man’s smile did nothing to convince Harry that the Headmaster wouldn’t know by the end of their conversation. A conversation that Harry wasn’t going to start. He’d already told them everything he was going to say when he’d stumbled into the Headmaster’s office and their rescue planning party.

Honestly, Hermione would have been ashamed at their inefficiency. (Hastiti was offended. Harry was just resigned.)

“A bit of quiet’s much better for thinking, isn’t it, Harry?”

“Yes, professor.” Harry kept his words light and addressed to the back of Fawkes’s head.

Dumbledore leaned forward in a rustle of lavender robes. “Bit better for talking, too, I’d say. Anything else you’d like to mention, my boy?”

Harry shook his head, meeting Dumbledore’s eyes, albeit briefly, knowing from the Dursley’s that looking away was a sign of dishonesty. And weakness. “No, sir.”

“Nothing about how exactly a series of rockfalls crushed the basilisk, young Tom, and the diary?”

“Faulty architecture, or at least I think those are the words Hermione used a while back.” Harry shrugged. “Those tunnels weren’t exactly stable. Or clean. I just hid until I saw a moment to grab Ginny and get her away. Wan’t too hard what with the basilisk thrashing about. Tom was too busy trying to get the diary away from the snake’s teeth to pay much attention to me. I barely did anything at all.”

“Not so, Harry. Being brave is only half the battle. Knowing when to be brave is what truly wins the day. It is unfortunate, however, that the collapsed rubble has made it impossible to go down and truly investigate the state of things.”

“Very unfortunate, sir.” If a basilisk with knowledge of Slytherin’s magical locks and a surprising grasp of how to make rockfalls appear completely impassible to man and magic counted as unfortunate.

Dumbledore hmmed at little, looking upwards, before peering down at Harry through half-moon spectacles. “Fortune was certainly on your side tonight, my dear boy, in the timing of it all.”

Harry nodded, briefly wondering if fortune really had anything to do with a properly pissed off and protective basilisk. “Ron’s started calling it the Potter luck, sir.”

“Ah, yes, I am familiar with Potters and their luck.” He smiled an odd sort of smile, that shifted into something a bit softer when Fawkes chirped and snapped at Harry’s fingers, demanding they return to their stroking. “You certainly seem to have a fair luck with creatures.”

“Suppose so, sir.” Harry let a small grin creep onto his face as he peeked out from under ruffled bangs. “Fawkes is pretty awesome.”

“Indeed. I don’t suppose you have anything to do with the other creature on my desk?”

Harry froze, knowing as soon as he did that he’d good as admitted his involvement before he’d even turned to look. But really, what else could it be but Hastiti, coiled loosely but obviously, on the corner of Dumbledore’s desk.

Glaring.

A quick glance up, more deliberately hidden by his wild hair, confirmed that Dumbledore wasn’t magically petrified, or, well, dead, so Harry unfroze with every intention of gathering up the basilisk and stuffing her back in his pocket.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t factored on the phoenix sitting on his knee which resulted in a lot of squawking and an irate bird sitting on his head. And an unmoved, still glowering mini-basilisk.

Not able to move much for fear of sharp claws clutching his hair (Ron could never know or the brid’s nest jokes would never end), Harry settled for crossing his arms and glaring as well. It was certainly a glare, and absolutely not a pout. He also wouldn’t comment on the possibility of hissing.

“Hastiti! This isn’t subtle!”

“Nor is this incompetent goat. He called you a liar!”

Harry blinked. “No, he didin’t.” Harry paused to take moment and make sure he was focused on Hastiti and there was no chance he’d slip out of Parseltongue. “And I am lying.”

“That’s not the point!” Her tail almost knocked over an ink pot.

Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him, resting his head on top with an affable smile, so Harry felt relatively safe continuing to hiss out, “And what, exactly, is the point?”

“He’s Headmaster! He should have personally escorted you to the Hospital Wing! Or at least been on his way to the Chamber, not sitting in his chair ruling over chaos. Master would have never stood for this. Never.”

Recognizing the slightly lower sibilance to her words that Harry had already started equating to snake muttering, he optimistically held out his hand, careful not to unbalance the phoenix still on his head, and waggled his fingers.

To his eternal joy, Hastiti actually started making her way towards him. She was going rather slowly and a bit oddly, never fully extending from her coil and not stopping her rant, but he would take what he could get.

“Poor Master. So sad. Hogwarts fallen as far as Master’s Chamber and stupid not-heir. So sad. Even Gryffindor would be sad! Not putting students first. Bah.”

She slipped into his lap with a quiet thump and headed to his pocket, muttering all the way. Harry looked up at the still smiling Dumbledore and deliberately didn’t gulp, though Harry’s hand did make it’s way to rest on the slightly squirming pocket of his robes.

“I met her in the chamber. She agreed to spy ahead for me.”

“I see.”

“She was a big help. Thought Tom was stupid.”

“That’s good.”

“She wanted to come with me. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. It was awful down there. Even before the tunnels collapsed.”

“Harry.”

“Besides, it would be nice to have a friend over the summer.” Harry hated how his voice quieted as he spoke, barely able to cover the tremor.

Dumbledore sighed. The sounds was soft, barely heard under the soft ticking of various instruments or the shuffling of a nesting phoenix. “You seem rather quick to trust her.”

“We faced a baby Dark Lord together.”

“Yes, and what a fight that must have been. Trauma doesn’t always lead to healthy friendships, though, my boy.“

“It worked with Hermione and the troll.” Harry raised a single eyebrow in a move he had spent hours trying to copy off of Petunia’s reactions to scandal in the neighbourhood. Harry would like to see the Headmaster call Hermione anything close to a bad influence. Harry was self-aware enough to know he copied a lot of work habits from his friends, which meant slacking off and chess with Ron, but also long study periods with Hermione (who not only wanted to spend time with Harry, but thought he was smart).

Seemingly, the Headmaster saw Harry’s challenge and, quite wisely, switched tracks. “Yes, but I’m afraid venomous snakes are not on the list of approved pets here at Hogwarts.”

“She’s a grass snake. They’re non-venomous and found near water. They eat newts, toads, and lizards.” Hermione had taken one look at Harry on one of his first sleepless nights after being accused of being Slytherin’s heir and immediately applied her favourite form of comfort: research. Harry knew far more about snakes in general and snakes in the area than he’d ever thought possible. Also that Hermione felt guilty about the extra sugar of marshmallows in her hot chocolate but could usually be won over after midnight.

“Ah. Forgive me, my boy, but it was my understanding that grass snakes were not found in Scotland.”

“Barred grass snakes are.” Harry deliberately didn’t cross his arms.

“And her lack of black markings?”

Hastiti hissed, her head poking out of Harry’s pocket and her long tongue flicking out at Dumbledore, whose mouth clicked shut.

Harry didn’t even twitch, much less blink. “Are a matter of great sensitivity.”

Harry had a feeling that their staring match would have gone on a lot longer than a staring match between and student and professor probably should, if Professor McGonagall hadn’t shown up with all the dramatic flair and timing of Snape.

“Poppy met the Weasleys just outside of the Great Hall, and was most unimpressed by the lack of her favourite patient. Seems someone had sent her a patronus ahead of our arrival. How peculiar. I’ve been sent to retrieve Mr. Potter on the Mediwitch’s authority, which, when concerning injured students, supersedes even the Headmaster.”

“Ah. Minerva. Yes, it is a good thing that young Harry is not injured. Very good, indeed.”

“Nope.” Harry popped the word, causing both adults to angle towards him even if they didn’t stop staring at each other. “I was really lucky! The collapsing roof barely hit me at all. I don’t even think I’m bleeding anymore.”

Harry wondered if this was the kind of silence Hermione would one day be able to create. It almost felt like ones where he or Ron had said something particularly stupid and Hermione had to correct them for reasons of Health and Safety, but really wanted to let them wallow in their own stupidity instead. Only this silence was much sharper, and the bladed edges weren’t actually directed at Harry.

“Quite.” McGonagall waved at Harry, ignoring the magical bird nesting in his hair with wonderful magnanimity. “Come along now, Mr. Potter. We have a Mediwitch to see.”

Harry hopped down from his seat, not planning to go against that particular tone in McGonagall’s voice. Again, he did have self-preservation instincts, bent as they were.

“Ah.” Dumbledore, however, didn’t seem to share these instincts. His eyes twinkled even as McGonagall’s flashed and her already pristine posture drew up even tighter. “There’s just the matter of the snake to finish, first.”

“I do believe that dead and buried beneath the castle is quite finished enough, Albus.”

“He means Hastiti, Professor.” Harry felt his robes tug as Hastiti poked her head out from his pocket in order to get a good look at the Head of Gryffindor. Hastiti’s hissing was oddly quiet, and quite empty of words for him to understand. She left his pocket in order to wind about his wrist and use his hand as a springboard to his shoulder when Harry lifted her.

There was brief moment of panic when claws tightened in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp and causing Harry to lightly wince, before bird and snake seemingly reached an agreement in red-flashing feathers and green-sliding scales and both creatures turned to face McGonagall.

Whose eyes narrowed. “I see.”

“Yes, quite. I was just informing Harry that snakes are not on the approved list of pets.” Harry refrained from mentioned that Dumbledore had dropped the part about them being venomous. Harry’s Slytherin side didn’t think it would be helpful at the moment.

McGonagall turned back to Dumbledore, her robes swishing against the floor. “Familiars hardly fall in that category, Albus. And it’s about time that the school learn all this Heir of Slytherin nonsense is utter poppycock. As his Head of House, I’ll have the proper parchmentwork for registering Familiars filled out and on your desk by end of day tomorrow. Come along, Mr. Potter. It isn’t wise to keep a Healer waiting.”

Harry risked a backwards glance at Dumbledore, using the flurry of Fawkes’s surprisingly gentle departure from his head as cover, and found he couldn’t read the man’s expression at all. Harry did receive a smile as he left, he just wan’t sure what it really meant. He didn’t think smiles were meant to be sad. 

Hastiti tightened around his wrist and Harry left Dumbledore staring at his shelf of fancy old swords. McGonagall was much more important right now, and was walking off at a pace that Harry had to deliberately match as they headed down the staircase and off through the hall.

They walked in silence for the length of a corridor or two, or as silent as Hogwarts ever really got. Harry had always felt that the castle was alive in a way that Number 4 Privet Drive could never manage. Every hall and every room had this background murmur that he’d never heard anywhere else. He didn’t even think it was just the magic, not really. It was the life. The fact that if he could speak to rock he was sure that every single stone would have a story to tell.

Two, in the case of the stones that were part of the moving staircases.

It was half-way down one of said staircases that Harry got a chance to really look at McGonagall. She had, without the slightest hesitation, walked them onto a staircase that Harry was certain would take them to the kitchens, only to pause at exactly halfway directly before the stairs started to shift.

She stood with one hand on the stained-oak railing, worn smooth and several shades lighter by hundreds of hands, and waited for the stair to adjust their course to what Harry had no doubt would be the fastest way to the Hospital Wing.

McGonagall might not advise crossing Healers, but it surprised Harry not in the least the Hogwarts itself wanted to avoid crossing McGonagall.

Particularly an angry McGonagall.

Harry mirrored her stance, placing one slightly shaking hand on the bannister and letting the warmth of Hogwarts seep through his veins even as he stared at the spot his Professor’s robes dusted the ground.

“Say thank you, hatchling.”

Harry flinched, hand clenching, as Hastiti slipped from under his sleeve to coil around his forearm, head staring tall and completely unafraid of McGonagall’s regard.

“What?”

Hastiti flicked her tongue at him. “Say thank you to Pride Leader. She got you away from the Goat, is taking you to get medicine, and is allowing you to keep me. She is good Pride Leader. Godric would approve. Say thank you.”

Harry’s knuckles were whiter than the deer bones in Hastiti’s tunnels. It wasn’t that he disagreed with Hastiti, not at all. It was just, well, McGonagall was mad. Possibly at him, though probably more at Dumbledore, but he just didn’t want to risk it.

“Mr. Potter.”

He flinched, again. “Yes, ma’am?”

She sighed, and Harry managed not to flinch this time, only because of Hastiti once again tightening on his wrist. He didn’t manage looking up, though. The pattern of carpet on the stairs was far too interesting, full of loops and swirls, and absolutely no anger whatsoever.

“I have been remiss in several areas, with you, this year, but I would like to make one point perfectly clear. No, make that two points.” The stairs reached their destination with a jolt that seemed softer than usual, but McGonagall didn’t start walking again, just half turned to look more fully at him. Harry could tell because of her boots, poking out from underneath the black trim of her robes.

“As much as I very much wish you had taken a responsible teacher with you-” and here both of them shared an unspoken moment of contemplation about how much Lockhart didn’t count “-and am quite upset with this whole chamber nonsense, you are very much a Gryffindor and I’m quite proud of you.”

Harry whipped his head up, meeting tired eyes that didn’t twinkle so much as softly burn. “You are?” He couldn’t help the squeak.

She nodded, the lines of her mouth softening slightly at the eye contact. “You stood up for your friends and didn’t falter in the face of hardship; those are true Gryffindor qualities.” Her hand slipped over his, covering still-bleached knuckles and worn wood alike. He could feel the roughness of callouses that could only be caused by years of wandwork. “And I am not solely referring to the Chamber. You withstood much from the general attitude of the students these past months, and faced the talk and cruelty of the students better than many could manage. I fear that detentions and point-loss are vastly insufficient deterrents for gossip, though I promise that didn’t stop me from handing them out to foolish tongue-waggers.”

“You did?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. I fear I may have actually taken away more points that even Professor Snape in recent months.” There was mischief tucked in the corner of her lips and the crease of her eyes. Harry couldn’t have stopped his own growing grin if he tried. Instead he ducked his head, letting his wild hair provide cover. McGonagall took this as a sign to remove her hand from his, only to, ever so softly, place it on top of his down-turned head. Bothe he Hastiti immediately stilled. “Which brings me to my second point, Mr. Potter. Regardless of the people that possessed the skill before you, Parseltongue is, ultimately, your skill. Despite the trouble you have gained from it, I’m glad to see you taking claim and using your ability in front of others. That certainly takes a Gryffindor’s bravery.”

Harry shook his head, dislodging his Professor’s hand because he hadn’t used Parseltongue in front of people, not really. Dumbledore didn’t count, and Harry had barely said a single word in the snake’s tongue in front of McGonagall and then only in surprise.

Hastiti was having none of his nonsense, however, and rubbed her nose ridges into Harry’s cheekbone quite insistently, having blatantly wound herself up his arm.

“See? Good Pride Leader. Say thank you, hatchling.”

He huffed out a laugh and raised two fingers to run down her green scales. A quick glance through his hair showed McGonagall with a small smile, though large enough that he felt comfortable asking a question.

“You really don’t mind? I mean,“ he hurried to add when he saw the smile start to slip, “even without the… foolish tongue-wagging, it still seems rude to have a conversation that someone else can’t understand while right in from of them.”

“I trust, Mr. Potter, that you will handle such situations appropriately. Besides, I’m hardly going to stop you from conversing with a being that seems to give you sensible advice you actually seem inclined to follow, at least if your account of what happened in the chamber was even partially accurate. Even if that advice is from a snake.”

Harry blinked. “Hastiti wanted me to thank you.”

McGonagall raised one perfect eyebrow. “Indeed? Very sensible advice, it seems, though I’m curious what for?”

Harry thought back a moment, “Getting me away from the Headmaster and to a Healer and arranging things so she can stay with me.”

An odd expression crossed McGonagall’s face and the older witch tucked both hands together in her sleeves. “Both of those things, Mr. Potter, are part of my duties as your Head of House, regardless,” she continued on as he opened his mouth to interrupt, “you are quite welcome.”

He beamed, not quite able to stop the expression. He was tired. Proper expression-control took energy.

He then felt the look fade, just a little. McGonagall was being so nice. She was proud of him. And he was lying. Harry clenched his hand into a fist, the one that was hidden by the tattered hanging of his robe sleeve. “But, Professor, Hastiti isn’t really my familiar-“

“Mr. Potter.” McGonagall’s tone had once more become short and clipped, though if his head hadn’t once again been drawn towards the flagstones he would have seen a veritable spark in her eyes. “I never thought I’d have to say this to a Potter, but, sometimes, you should let perceptions lie.”

He stared as she finally began to walk away, patting the bannister twice as she reached the bottom and stepped off the stairs.

It took Hastiti’s hissing in his ear to get Harry scrambling after, though he did copy his Professor and give two quick pats to the wood. He stumbled once at the flair of warmth-cinimon-iron he got in answer, before hastily falling into step beside his Head of House.

Hastiti just gave hearty snake chuckles, which he hadn’t know were a thing, but the rumbling against his clavicle was very distinct. “Oh, Pride Leader is a good Head of House. Even Master would approve. Yes, very good. She looks after hatchling.”

Harry glanced out of the corner of his eye at McGonagall, before grinning. “Yeah, she’s kinda awesome. You should see her stop Sly-students in their tracks with a single look. I actually think she’d more frightening than Snape to some of them. He normally has to sweep in and loom. She just Appears.”

“A good look is an excellent defence.”

“Right.” Harry side-eyed his snake-that-is-actually-a-basilisk-capable-of-killing-or-petrifying-with-a-look. “So. Is lecturing me on manners and politeness going to be a thing now?”

Hastiti either completely missed his teasing tone or ignored it entirely. Harry couldn’t really tell which, but was definitely glad she accepted the subject change. “Of course. Pride Leader has many cubs to teach. Must be very busy. I teach only my hatchling - is my role as nest mother.” And then Harry’s tiny basilisk nodded. For emphasis.

Harry smiled, lifting Hastiti off his shoulder so she could wind about his wrists again since the Hospital Wing was almost in sight. He felt fairly certain McGonagall wouldn’t tell a soul if she caught him nuzzling the snake lightly first. “McGonagall is really busy. She’s Head of Gryffindor but also Deputy Headmistress and teaches Transifguration.”

“She must keep her assistants running.”

“I don’t think she has any? I mean, the Prefects help within the House, but that’s it?”

Hastiti looked at him, then at McGonagall, then back at Harry. “That is too much. Even Master had assistants or senior students.”

Before Harry could reply, McGonagall herself cleared her throat. Harry looked up with a blush, but didn’t apologize. She’d basically given him permission to talk to Hastiti in front of her, after all. “One more thing, Mr. Potter.”

“There’s something else?” He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, and felt his blush intensify. He vaguely hoped that he’d spoken in Parseltongue so only Hastiti would be laughing at him. The twitch of McGonagall’s nose signalled otherwise, however.

Harry felt their laughter, subtle though it was with Hastiti slipping back into his pocket and McGonagall’s stern demeanour, was completely unfair. He’d run from a giant basilisk, performed unknown magic to befriend said basilisk, fought a baby Dark Lord, and carried a mostly unconscious girl through way too many corridors. He was tired. He could not be responsible for things he said when tiredness blanketed his bones.

“Yes, one last point. In spirit of thanks and manners, I feel there is something I have too long neglected.” At Harry’s blank look, McGonagall sighed again. He wasn’t sure why. Harry had gotten pretty good a noticing when he was missing a Wizarding culture thing. He kept a list of things to ask Ron, but Harry was pretty sure this wasn’t one of those times.

“An apology, Mr. Potter. I did not listen to you last year about the Stone, and I’m sorry for my inattention. I should have at least made inquiries. I cannot complain about you not taking a responsible teacher with you when I have not proven myself as such. I promise, Mr. Potter, that next time, and I am, somehow, quite sure there will be a next time, I will listen.” She smiled at him, and odd sort of smile that didn’t seem as sad as Dumbledore’s but was just as confusing. “In the meantime, I’m quite glad that you have someone besides Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger looking out for you.”

Harry blinked slowly, trying to process the first apology he’d ever received from an adult, much less one of his favourite adults.

McGonagall tactfully ignored his slightly watery eyes and looked down at the snake poking her head out of Harry’s pocket. “It’s quite a difficult job, I expect, if Ms. Granger is to be believed. But you have my thanks, Ms. Hastiti. Though I’m sure, a barred grass snake, was it? Will be quite up to the challenge.”

With that, his Head of House turned and swept though the Hospital Wing doors with a dramatic flourish so perfect that Snape would be green in envy.

“Close your mouth, hatchling.”

“Was she in the room when I told-“

“No. No she wasn’t.”

“Hastiti. I think I want to be her when I grow up.”

Hastiti cocked her head to the side. “There are worse things to be.”

“Like False-lords?”

“And incompetent goats.”

“Mr. Potter!”

Harry hurried inside the Hospital Wing for what was definitely not the first time. Though, this was probably the first time he’d done so with a smile.

Chapter Text

Despite their rather deliberate pace in getting to the Hospital Wing, Harry actually had a moment to breathe once he entered the very large doors. McGonagall had been waylaid by Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley and was drawn into a great fuss of waving arms and loud words that Harry, quite simply, was too tired to even attempt understanding.

He started to feel back with his left and less scratched hand, content to fall slowly and let the rough stone just inside the door hold him up, when two arms hooked around his. Harry got dragged forward by his elbows, staggeringly gently, barely managing a bleary blink at the shadowed faces of the twins.

“Alright there, mate?” George asked, with a wry smile that said he knew the answer was no, and that Harry would say yes anyways.

Fred, tall on Harry’s other side, snorted. “‘Course he isn’t, don’t be daft Georgie-boy.”

“True, True, Freddie. Clearly not. Fighting a giant snake will do that to you.”

“So it will, so it will.” Fred nodded his head solemnly at his twin’s words, eyes glinting as he hooked an arm around Harry’s waist and lifted him into a hospital bed.

The twins paused, both waiting for something, possibly a verbal response, but Harry just blinked again, slightly disoriented from the fast change of location. The twins shared a sideways look, barely started before it was completed, and continued.

“Sorry for the grab-“

“But this bed is far superior.” Fred nodded with a pat to the white sheets.

“Quieter,” George said with a nod across the room to where the rest of the Weasley family was surrounding a different bed, ostensibly filled with Ginny.

“More peaceful,” Fred raised his voice over a sudden sharp increase of volume by Mrs. Weasley.

“And next to excellent company.” Harry looked around in confusion at George’s comment, before the boy gestured to the curtain to Harry’s right. They was diagonally across from Ginny and the Weasleys, who were just one bed down from the door, while Harry was right at the back of the Hospital Wing. Though, not quite at the back. Looking more closely at the curtain George had gestured to, Harry realized that behind it were the beds sequestered for the paralyzed students.

For Hermione.

Harry grinned, slow and small and absurdly happy for the consideration. It would be a lot easier to sneak over to Hermione if he didn’t have the entire room to contend with.

“Thanks, George.” Because it had been George’s idea, Harry was certain. It had taken Harry seven months into his first year to be able to tell the twins apart. Harry was actually kinda disappointed in that timeframe; observation was key to survival at the Dursley’s. Harry could avoid Petunia’s frying pan nine times out of ten if he saw the swing coming in her body language or her temper. That wasn’t even counting Dudley and how much easier Harry’s life had gotten once he’d noticed the wider boy was actually pretty boring in his routine. Couldn’t miss those TV shows or meal times, not their Dudlikinss.

Harry blamed it on the whole magic thing. And the magic castle thing. And the actual friends thing! Also the third floor mystery and Welcome to Voldemort 101. Point was, he’d had a lot to observe.

Once he’d started observing the twins, however, it didn’t take too long to narrow down the differences, even with all their swapping. Fred was louder, spoke a lot with his hands, and tended to take over talking early in the morning and late at night. George laughed louder, had a tendency to physically lean on his friends, and was constantly watching.

It was George who noticed Harry watching back, but Fred who started the habit of sitting together in front of the corner fire when Harry had nightmares of pans and cupboards. Sitting with the twins, invariably up late due to their plotting, was much better than starting at the flickering flames by himself. Warmer too, somehow.

It was George who told Harry the first secret he’d ever been given, whispered in firelight while Fred hid kind eyes above a smirk. George who’d almost been placed in Slytherin, since while Fred had plans that led to trouble it was George who was in charge of getting them out (they were both still learning; detentions were opportunity and incentive).

Harry had’t looked up from his hands, then, from the shifting patterns of fire-light dancing across the scars on his fingers, bleached white from the force he was using to press his palms together. Harry knew secrets. He knew many of them, as was a consequence of always watching and not being allowed (encouraged) to speak. He knew of McGonagalls’ sweet tooth. He knew of Oliver Wood’s Slytherin boyfriend. He knew of the Ravenclaw fifth year planning to cheat on her OWL exams.

This was the first secret he knew because someone had trusted him. They’d wanted him to know.

His breath had rattled, that night by the fire, but his voice had come out strong even as he didn’t say anything about his own sorting, but rather pointed out that sixth year Terrance Pratt had been bullying third year Katie Bell and might he be a target for that new prank Harry knew the twins were planning, the one with taffy and sap and confetti?

When Hermione had asked about his puffy red eyes the next morning, Harry hadn’t known how to say he was happy and not sad, but that turned out for the better because Hermione had spent the entire breakfast tentatively leaning into his side, and Ron had actually given him a tart, and the twins had toasted him with their goblets, unnoticed as everyone else focused on the red and gold blob that was a screaming Terrance.

So it was George, George who was cunning and would never leave his twin, that had known Harry would be sneaking over to Hermione. And it was Fred, Fred who was well used to looking after a sneakily protective brother, that had lifted Harry into the best-positioned bed.

It was also Fred who tapped George’s arm and let a smirk grow beneath eyes that were just starting to loose their tightness. “So Harrikins. Mind sharing some of your stash?”

Harry blinked. It certainly seemed he was doing that a lot tonight. “My what?”

George raised his eyes from the folds of Harry’s dirty robe, a matching smirk already plastered across his face. “The candy, mate. Seems a good time for a bit o’sweet.”

Harry froze, having no idea what they were talking about, yet knowing with the kind of unavoidable weight of an oncoming train that it was all Hastiti’s fault.

He looked down, eye’s immediately trapped by the small glass dish full of lemon drops that had fallen out of his pocket, and closed his eyes with a groan. Hastiti’s weird shuffle across Dumbledore’s desk made so much sense now. “Hastiti, you stole Dumbledore’s candy?”

“Of course. Hatchling wanted. Incompetent Goat didn’t deserve.”

The twins’ laughter cut off Harry’s reply. “Mate, your snake stole from Dumbledore?”

George elbowed his twin in the ribs. “I think-“

“-absolutely think-.” Fred nodded, eyes dancing for the first time all night.

“-this means we have-“

“-a new accomplice!”

“Welcome to the team, Hastiti-snake.” George grinned wider as he finished the twin-speak and Harry buried his head in his arms. Hastiti tightened around his wrist. Snake hugs were not going to thaw his annoyance. They weren’t.

“That wasn’t parseltongue?” Harry supposed he had been looking at the candy and not at Hastiti.

“Nope, sorry!” Harry didn’t look up to see which twin had spoken. Just dug the bridge of his nose into his foul-smelling sleeve.

“I’d been doing so well,” Harry moaned.

George patted Harry’s arm.  “Time for us to go, mate.”

“Sisters to make laugh.”

“Brothers to make scowl.”

“A prankster’s job is never done.” Harry felt Fred ruffle Harry’s hair as the older boy finished speaking. Felt him pause with his hand still buried in Harry’s not-actually-a-bird’s-nest-Fawkes curls, and lower his forehead to press into Harry’s crown. “Thanks Harry, for saving our sister.”

Harry whipped his head up, green eyes wide, but Fred had already withdrawn and was in the process of catching the lemon drop George was tossing to his way. George just winked.

“Rest up, Harrykins! Never know when you’ll need that strength for secret chamber exploring!”

Harry didn’t reply, too busy staring at the real reason the twins had taken their leave. His smile was tired, but true, as he grinned up at his first friend. “Hey, Ron.”

“Sorry, mate. Took me a while to dodge that madhouse.” Ron’s hand flapped in a half-hearted gesture behind him, towards the assorted Weasleys that Fred and George had rejoined.

“S’ok. Glad you’re all right. And Ginny.” Harry said, still grinning. They were both alright. They were alright and Harry had helped.

“Yeah, I only had a couple of scratches from falling rocks.” Ron held up an arm with unblemished skin but several large tears in the fabric of his sweater. “And Ginny’s going to be ok. Madam Pomfrey healed up her scratches, too, though she’s going to have to stay longer for exhaustion and magical depletion. Not here, though. Pomfrey’s trying to get Mum to agree to take Ginny to St. Mungos.”

Harry blinked, trying to figure out if that was a name he knew and forgotten because thinking was hard with no energy, or if he genuinely didn’t know it.

Ron grinned wryly. “St Mungos is the Wizarding hospital. Pomfrey’s worried about the possibility of lingering curse damage and Mum’s worried about if they can afford that. Think Pomfrey’s going to win though, McGonagall came over and said something about Hogwarts covering things, so no way will Mum not get Ginny the best.”

“That’s good. That she’s getting the best, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Ron’s ears were slightly red as he jumped up onto the foot of Harry’s bed, “Bit mental, all this. Think Perce is more upset about the staff not stopping a giant snake in the walls and a -what was Hermione’s word- incompetent teacher than anything. Keeps going on about how there are “Rules to be followed!” and all that -Bloody Hell!”

Harry flinched as Ron jumped of the bed, wand gripped tightly in his hand as he looked around for the threat. He failed to see anything, though, and so turned back to his suddenly very pale friend.

Ron was staring at Harry’s knee, and Harry abruptly realized that Ron sitting on the end of his bed had disrupted the sheets enough that Hastiti was, just barely, visible from where she’d tucked herself into Harry’s side.

“Ron-“

“Why do you have a snake in your bed?”

Harry bent to pick up Hastiti, the now-small snake pooling in his hands. “Sorry, hatchling.”

Harry stroked her back with his thumb in reassurance, but didn’t take his eyes of his friend. “This is Hastiti.” Harry’s voice was soft. “McGonagall said Hastiti could stay with me under Hogwarts’s familiar rules. She helped me in the chamber.”

“She helped you? I helped you! Or was supposed to. What did this slimy snake do-“ Ron stopped, abruptly.

Harry suddenly felt very nervous, an odd coiling making itself known in his stomach. “Ron?”

Ron’s head snapped up to meet Harry’s eyes. “Did you bring a baby basilisk out of the chamber?”

Blinking at the more than passible hiss Harry’s friend had just managed, Harry barely managed a stuttered, “What.”

“I was in that chamber with that bloody fool Lockhart for a good half hour before we managed to find our way back for help. I saw those drawings on the wall! That,” he pointed aggressively, “is a basilisk.”

Harry flinched. He couldn’t help it, not when his friend was so angry at him. He knew Ron wouldn’t react well to Hastiti with his animosity to the the Slytherins, but he thought he’d have more time to fully explain everything. More time to plan what to say. “No, I mean yes, I mean, she’d not a baby. And she helped, Ron, she protected Ginny.”

But Ron hadn’t heard that last part, at least, not really. He was too busy muttering. “Not a baby, no, of course not. Because that’s not the kind of thing that happens to Harry Potter. No, he doesn’t find baby basilisks in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Ron looked at Harry with the same piercing gaze Ron had when about to crush his opponent in a chess. Not at the moment just before he said checkmate, but the moment when he realized his strategy would win, that the game would be his. Except not exactly the same gaze, this one was colder, and it scared Harry far more.

“Harry, did you find Slytherin’s actual monster, the basilisk that hurt Hermione and  Ginny, and bring it into the Hospital Wing where they both currently are?”

“She didn’t mean too! It was Voldemort’s-“

“Don’t say that name!”

The silence between them lay thick, the voices from only across the room oddly muffled. It didn’t last, however, as a weepy Mrs. Weasley had chosen to bustle over with tears and hugs and thanks. Harry accepted his hug, but didn’t enjoy Mrs. Weasley’s warmth as much as he usually did, too busy staring over her shoulder at a very red Ron who refused to meet his gaze.

Hastiti had disappeared as soon at the Weasley matron had bustled over, burying her snakey self in the remains of Harry’s robes.

“Oh Harry, dear. Thank you so much. Ginny will be okay, all thanks to you, you wonderful boy.” She stood up and looked down at him, pride and warmth etched into every worry line of her face. “We’ll have to go to St. Mungos. I was worried about the- but never you mind. Professor McGonagall’s gone and arranged everything, even the floo. I’m taking all the kids home, dear, since exams are done and really just want my family home. The Headmaster said you couldn’t come till the end of summer, but we’ll definitely see you then. You always have a place with us, dear.”

“T-thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry figured he was blushing, but Mrs. Weasley didn’t appear to mind.

She ran an hand down Harry’s hair, seemingly ignoring the slightly tacky nature of the gunk that still coated it, before turning to Ron. “Come along, Ron, only a few minutes to the floo is ready. Goodbye Harry, see you soon.”

As she bustled off, Ron held back, though still refused to look at Harry. “I won’t tell them,” he waved at the general direction of Harry’s legs. “I won’t betray you like that.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said, softly. “I’ll, ah, I’ll write to you, okay? With the full story? And Vold- His part in everything?”

Ron opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a loudly bellowed “Ronald!” Instead, Ron nodded his head, once, sharply before turning to join his family.

Harry burrowed his head in trembling arms. Hastiti took this move as an excuse to leave his wrist and wind about his throat. Somehow, the shiver her cool scales caused, was more comforting than anything else. She flicked a tongue at his cheek. “Poor hatchling. Should sleep now.”

“He- that’s not how I wanted to tell him. What if he hates me?”

“Won’t. You’re not very hate-able, hatchling.”

Harry’s hands clench in the sheets, knuckles matching white for white. “The Dursley’s managed well enough.”

Hastiti hissed, long and low. “The Petunia-pan will be dealt with.” The basilisk tapped Harry’s collarbone with her tail, before ducking into his robes and starting to twine herself down his body. “And you will always have me Harry-hatchling. Pride Leader is coming with Healer Lady.”

Harry snapped his head up fast enough that he saw stars. The stars didn’t stop hims from seeing the matching winces on the faces of Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.

“Easy there, lad.” Madam Pomfrey’s hand was cool as it briefly cradled the back of his neck before dragging up to his forehead. “We haven’t quite compiled the list of what needs healing yet.”

Harry scowled as he crossed his arms, inadvertently revealing the tears in his dark sleeves. “It shouldn’t be that long! I avoided damage from a giant snake and baby Dark Lord. It was only the faulty architecture and falling stone that got me!”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, rocks are still pretty damaging. Besides,” Madam Pomfrey’s tone held some cross of humour and concern, “Minerva told me you actually asked to come to the Hospital Wing.”

Harry’s spine straightened and he looked the Mediwitch in the eye for the first time all evening. “That water was green, Madam Pomfrey. Green. That’s not right. I want a shower and thought this was the fastest way to get it. If you want to maybe check that I’m not poisoned or nothing, though, I suppose I won’t complain.”

He looked from Madam Pomfrey to McGonagall, taking note of their features quickly before ducking his head back down to stare at his clasped hands. He was good at getting a read on people quickly, grasping their body language at a glance so he could duck a pan or avoid an elbow.

He wasn’t so good a reading emotions he had never seen before, at least not directed at him. But there was a slight uptick at the corner of McGonagall’s mouth and a slight crinkle at Pomfrey’s eyes that made him think that they might be…fond. Of him. He took a deep breath and added. Before either woman could speak, “Well, I won’t complain this time.”

There was a pause, and Harry’s nails dug into the back of his hands, before a snort escaped McGonagall. Harry looked up through his fringe to see Madam Pomfrey shake her head with a smile, wand raised to begin diagnostics, while McGonagall had one hand slightly in front of her mouth.

Harry had made Professor McGonagall laugh.

It took a moment for Harry to move past the warmth crawling up his chest and realize that McGonagall had lowered her hand from her mouth, though he realized quickly enough when he felt her place thin fingers on top of his head. “Here I thought one of my Gryffindors was finally learning that if you want to go on adventures, you have to deal with the Hospital Wing at the end of them. Alas, I seem to have been overly optimistic.”

Harry felt his nose wrinkle. “I think I’m starting to get that.”

Madam Pomfrey chuckled. “Maybe there’s hope after all.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” McGonagall replied. “Though, speaking of Gryffindors, I do need to return to the common room and let everyone know that events have resolved.”

“I don’t suppose you could keep my name out of it?” Harry didn’t really have hope, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. At least not Professor McGonagall, it would hurt to ask Uncle Vernon. Or Snape.

McGonagall mere sighed. “No, I don’t believe so, though I will certainly limit mention of your and Mr. Weasley’s involvement, Mr. Potter. And there will certainly be no mention of giant snakes.”

“Well, ‘course not. No one else was as smart at Hermione to figure out there was one of those running about in the first place.”

Looking at him over the rim of her glasses, McGonagall hummed, once. “True enough. I think that should be five points to Gryffindor, for excellent thinking and research, and another ten, for showing actual Merlin-blessed self-preservation with that mirror.”

She turned to leave, so missed Harry’s blinding smile. Madam Pomfrey had time to give Harry a quick Scorgify on his clothes, explaining it wasn’t good for skin but at least he wasn’t sitting in muck while she went to fetch some potions, before McGonagall turned around again.

It was a half turn, though the transfiguration professor’s robes did an excellent little swish and her hat tilted just enough that Harry would forever be of the belief that McGonagall possessed a far superior sense of dramatic timing to Snape.

“And Harry,” she spoke with barely a slight with of a smile, “you might be interested to know that Professors Snape, Sprout, and I were late to rescue efforts because we were here with Madam Pomfrey at the time. The mandrakes have matured and the potion to restore the petrified students has been prepared and administered. Goodnight, Mr. Potter.”

Harry whipped around to a returning Madam Pomfrey, who was clutching three different vials in her hand before placing them down on the small table next to his bed. Harry knew better than to try and get more out of the departing McGonagall, particularly when he had the healer right next to him.

“Yes, Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey handed him a bottle containing a silvery liquid, “Ms. Granger is recovering and should be awake by tomorrow morning, though she will be required to spend several days in the Hospital Wing for recovery and monitoring. Drink that right now; it should deal with any toxins from the water.” She waited until Harry had complied before continuing, “I’m sure you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley will be up and ready for your usual hijinks in no time.”

Harry slowly turned out of the rest of Madam Pomfrey’s explanations. The curling warmth from McGonagall was turning molten in his stomach as his eyes were drawn the the curtain separating him from Hermione.

He certainly hoped Hermione would be ready for hijinks, though, as his thoughts slid to the snake he was certain was nesting under his pillow, he wasn’t sure. Not if he wanted to bring his new snake-mum along for the ride.

Harry still snuck over to Hermione’s bed after midnight.

He was mostly healed, though needed to take the silver potion twice and get a checkover in the morning.

He was also clean. Which was amazing. Being clean was the second best thing ever. No, the third. The second best thing would be Hermione waking. The first best thing would be Hermione waking, being perfectly fine with adding a protective basilisk to their group, and convincing Ron that, really, adventures would be much cooler with a talking magical snake.

This was, possibly, slightly more pressure that he really wanted to put on Hermione.

But it was past midnight, Harry had gone past tired and flown straight into exhausted, and was sitting at the bedside of his unconscious best friend.

He was not okay.

Pomfrey had healed him up and McGonagall had been startling helpful, but it was still Hermione that fixed things for him.

Hermione had fixed his glasses. Hermione had fixed his homework, and then fixed his attitude towards homework when she believing he could actually do well by himself. Hermione had fixed his need for touch, even though he hated sudden movements, so gradually that he didn’t even notice when he started reaching out to her on his own. Hermione had fixed his need to constantly keep track of his friends, making sure to tell him her plans each morning at breakfast (because something could happen to them where Harry couldn’t see and then he’d be alone all again).

He wasn’t entirely sure how much was deliberate on Hermione’s part and how much was written down on a list somewhere of Things to Make Harry Better, but he loved her because he knew there was such a list. No one had ever bothered to make a list for Harry, at least one that wasn’t outlining his faults or his chores.

Her attitude annoyed Ron, sometimes, for all that the boy was so very happy to have friends that he didn’t have to share with his brothers. Ron sometimes thought that Hermione wanted to make them different, make them into more perfect Hermione-shaped friends. Ron might even have been right, except for that fact that ferociously bright and magical Hermione had never had friends before, and was simply trying to do everything in her power to keep them without a frame of reference.

Harry understood.

Harry thought about friends and their lack late at night when he was supposed to be sleeping but all he could hear was the thump-creak-groan of steps above his cupboard.

He thought about friends and their shapes now, head cushioned on the smooth sheets of Hermione’s bed, eyes squeezed tight but hands held loose. He needed to feel the pulse under Hermione’s wrist but didn’t want her to feel trapped if she happened to wake.

Hermione’s sleeping breaths were slow and deep. She was safe. Nothing was coming to hurt her (Hastiti was there and nothing was going to get through her). Ron was safe (angry yes, but safe which was so much more important). Ginny was safe (Ron didn’t need to know what it felt like not to have family, especially not family he remembered). Hogwarts was safe (Voldemort was not allowed to hurt Harry’s home).

So Harry was also asleep, the shadows under his eyes finally dragging him down, when Hermione awoke. Her fingers twitched first, but settled once she felt the small and calloused hands of her best friend. She would know those hands anywhere, even groggy with dreams. The two of them had developed a habit of dragging each by the hand, in part because Hermione like to read while she walked, in part because Harry was very distractible by shiny things, in part just because they could.

So Hermione’s fingers stopped twitching, and her eyelids started. She was very grateful that it was dark in the Hospital Wing when she did manage to open them. It didn’t take her too long adjust to the shards of moonlight and faintly glowing scones.

Hermione’s body woke slowly, fighting against a stiffness that sat in each of her limbs like stone, but her mind woke swiftly, flying to one single question as she stared at the mop of her best friends hair.

It was a question that was answered soon enough, not by the still sleeping boy who’s head lay on her bed, crown pressed into her leg, but by the snake wrapped loosely around his neck.

Hermione’s hand hovered in the air for a moment, trembling, before she lowered it as gently as she could to inky black curls.

“Well,” Hermione’s words creaked out of her, “I suppose he’s already gone a dealt with the basilisk and that particular adventure, then.” She paused, staring at Hastiti who’d risen slowly from Harry’s neck with yellow eyes blinking, before stating, “He’d better be okay.”

There was another slow blink, before Hastiti, in a very deliberate motion that had Hermione blinking herself, nodded her head up and down. The snake then poked Harry in the cheekbone, tongue flicking out, before hissing, “The girl is awake, Hatchling.”

Harry sat up immediately, with the kind of wild eyes that said all that needed to be said about the kind of sleep he’d been having.

“Hermione!”

“Yes, Harry?”

Wild eyes swung as Harry shot to his feet, hands fluttering well over the bed. “You’re alright, oh, I’m so glad you’re alright.” He sunk back into his seat, hand reaching to grasp Hermione’s fingers after being unable to settle without knowing if she was in pain.

Hermione hooked their fingers, tugging him forward far more than her tired frame should have warranted. “Me, too.”

He beamed, though it didn’t last long.

Hermione gestured to his throat with a small flick of her free hand. “You’ve clearly had your most recent adventure. You better not be in the Hospital Wing for your own injuries.”

Harry’s face tightened as his hand automatically reached up to cover the dangling snake looped around his neck. The hissed complaints seemed to ring in the Hospital Wing as Harry slowly lost more and more colour.

Hermione frowned, the expression only deepening as the motion seemed to trigger a flinch in Harry. Her fingers tightened, refusing to let her friend go when he tried to pull back.

“I, uh, well, Mione…you see-“

“Breathe, Harry.” The snake nodded again, before tightening and loosening in a very deliberate snake hug around Harry’s throat.

Harry did as told told, the breath rattling around in his lungs. When he exhaled, however, more than just air came loose.

“Her name is Hastiti and she’s good, not bad, I promise! I can talk to her, you know that, so I’ve asked, and I know I’m not the best with people, but, but I’m good at recognizing danger, not that she’s not dangerous, because she is a giant snake with magic and venom, but not to me, or, or us. She’s adopted me! McGonagall said I could keep her, something about Familiar Rules. So, she’s good!

“And you were right about the basilisk, of course you were, but there was also a baby Lord Voldemort and he was bad, like really really mean and not only hurt you but was hurting Ginny which was hurting Ron and also hurting Hastiti, which no one seems to care about but she’d so nice and uh, wants to keep me safe? Like really wants to keep me safe and actually managed to kind of do that? I didn’t get to that part when telling Ron, maybe he wouldn’t be mad if I had? I mean she saved me and Ginny and um, wants to eat Aunt Petunia?”

Harry stopped after that last bit, voice oddly high, looking as confused as Hermione at everything that had come pouring out of his mouth. Even the low sounds of Hastiti hissing had stopped completely.

Hermione closed her eyes. She only opened them when Harry, again, the idiot, tried to pull his hand away. When he failed at doing so, he had to use his other hand to try and wipe the tears that were slowly making their way down his face and into his lap.

“Harry.” He didn’t move, and certainly didn’t look up from his knees. “Harry.” Still nothing.

“Harry, I love you.” His head whipped up, green eyes blown wide and mouth slightly open. Hermione nodded at the attention. “I’m tired.” He flinched, but didn’t look back down. “My bones feel like lead and I can’t get my hands to stop trembling. If you say that the snake, that Hastiti, is on our side? Great. I can think of at least six ways that an essentially talking animal will be useful even though my brain currently feels like its being powered by a turtle. If Ron’s being a prat about it, fine, we’ll fix that too, he often just needs to cool down and think. But I trust you, because I love you, and I just need you to answer one thing for me, okay?” Her voice broke on the end, that tremble apparently moving.

Harry just nodded, the “anything, everything, absolutely always” somehow more than clear enough without sound.

“You’re alright? Nothing more needs to happen with the Baby Dark Lord?”

Harry shook his head rapidly, hair flying, managing to get out a “fine, everything’s fine.” Because it was. Ginny and Ron were safe. Riddle was gone. Hastiti was here. Hermione was awake. Everything was fine.

Hermione nodded, tugging on his hand, gently. “Okay. Then this is what I need you to do.” The tremble in her voice was more pronounced, and might have something to do with the tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m tired and sore and can barely move and was attacked by a basilisk. You, my best friend,” her voice broke, and she cleared her throat under the watch of piercing green eyes, “my b-brother, were attacked too, I think, and by V-voldemort. I want a hug, and since I can’t come and get it, you’re coming to me.”

Harry stood immediately, planning to take a step and bend down, but Hermione used the last of her strength to yank him forward. With one foot in the air, tired as Harry was, he fell and found himself sprawled across both the bed and Hermione.

The moment her thin arms came around his shoulders, he gave up. Stopped trying to hold back the tears and just let the sobs come. He clutched Hermione’s frame as gently as possible, even as her arms tightened like steel, guiding his face to her shoulder.

Hastiti slid down his back to pool by Harry’s knee. It was Hermione however, who tracked the movement.

“You’ll w-watch him?” The girl barely had time to see Hastiti, once again, nod, before tired, wet eyes closed for the final time that night.

She certainly wasn’t awake to watch Hasititi  pool over both children’s legs, head facing the door and hooked over her hatchling thigh, tail draped across her hatchling’s sister’s hip.

Madam Pomfrey found them in the morning. She wasn’t exactly sure how to react to a small boy tying to make himself smaller while clinging to a bushy-haired girl’s side. Harry was on top of the blankets, clearly trying leave them for Hermione, and the tear track on his cheeks were almost hidden by the long curly hair he’d dug his face into. Hermione had a tight grip in Harry’s pyjamas with one hand, the other slug about his shoulders in clear possession.

The snake threw Pomfrey, just a bit, but the way long emerald scales had looped and draped themselves across two sets of legs was a very specific statement. Particularly on behalf of this boy who’d lost his family and this girl whose parents had, despite multiple offers, never actually come to visit their petrified daughter.

Pomfrey met slitted yellow eyes and nodded, sharply, before turning away.

McGonagall answered Pomfrey’s patronus early in the morning at a rather quicker pace than some of her students would have likely believed possible. She was still most assuredly dignified, but Merlin be damned, nothing had better have happened to that boy. He’d faced quite enough already, and that was before he’d gone to face a baby Dark Lord in a secret chamber of her school.

McGonagall stalked directly into the Hospital Wing and stopped abruptly at Pomfrey’s side. She didn’t even need her friend’s gesture for quiet, since McGonagall found herself without a single word at the sight of her two favourite students (and she would admit this now, at least to herself, since these two clearly needed all the help they could get) entwined together in an infirmary bed with a snake, much larger than McGonagall remembered, serving as a rather protective blanket.

Colin Creevey was confused. Not about the mysterious magic thing paralyzing him while at school, or even about his steps for recovery and making up school work. Madam Pomfrey and his mother had been quite clear about his schedule.

No, Colin was confused about the brand new roll of magical film that his Head of House had placed on his bedside table, next to the camera that had, thankfully, been there when he’d woken up.

He could have sworn that Professor McGonagall’s ears were slightly red when she tapped the film down and explained that the, previously almost new, film reel had been used up for a worthy purpose.

No, Colin, must still be very tired. The swish to McGonagall’s robes was just as intimidating and unwelcoming of question as ever, even as she wished him a speedy recovery. She walked at a stately pace out of the Hospital Wing, not even glancing at the bed next to him that Colin had been pretty sure was still supposed to hold Hermione Granger.

He definitely needed more sleep. More sleep, and then he could test out that film which was at least two times of higher quality than the original. 

Sometimes, it was just better not to look the gift-hippogriff in the mouth.

Chapter Text

“Harry James Potter! Stop breaking the rules of magic!” Harry startled, juice spilling over the edge of his cup as he looked up at Hermione, whom he was pretty sure was supposed to still be in the infirmary.

“Mione?”

She huffed, tapping the open page of a rather large book she’d slammed down next to him at the Gryffindor breakfast table. He was rather glad he’d come down early enough that the only other students were sixth and seventh years who really didn’t pay much attention to the babies at the other end of the table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the Hospital Wing? Did you sneak out of the Hospital Wing?”

Hermione leaned forward, voice lowering into what Hastiti would be proud to call a hiss. “I needed to find a book. Which is sadly insufficient, much like your story. Tell. Me. Everything.”

Harry looked at the book; he couldn’t really do anything else with her insistent tapping on the page and his insistent need to not look Hermione in the eye. This turned out to be a mistake, since the gleaming eye of the illustrated basilisk really wasn’t much better. Particularly when the drawing was done in such detail at such a size that the similarity to Hastiti was absolutely unmistakable.

“Um.” Hastiti slipped her head out of his sleeve, careful not to be seen by anyone other than Harry and Hermione, in order to look at the book as well. She then proved to be most unhelpful when she let out the little flexing hiss that Harry knew was laugher, and retreated once again to warp around his wrist. “Um.”

Hermione sighed, slipping fully onto the seat and leaning into Harry. He knew better than to think that she hadn’t noticed the release of tension in his shoulders as her warmth seeped into his side. He also slipped an arm around her back, a bit hesitantly, once he remembered that yes, Hermione had slipped out of the Hospital Wing early.

To find a book. About basilisks. “Um.”

Hermione snorted. “Yes, Harry, um.”

“I was going to tell you! Promise. It’s all part of Hastiti being awesome and Voldemort being a baby and a false-lord and an ass. And architecture! I had a plan. I mean, it probably wasn’t a great plan, but it was a plan, and you should definitely be proud of that.”

Hermione reached out to close the book. “Yes, yes, Harry. I’m very proud you didn’t get squished by falling rock and defeated Voldemort for the third time without even a single OWL to prove you actually know magic.” The eye roll was evident in her tone. “But Harry, this book is wrong. It says nothing about being able to turn off the killer-glare, and nothing about changing size, and nothing about the intelligence that I absolutely know Hastiti has!”

She looked at Harry with eyes wilder than her hair, the red and gold of her tie bright against her paler than usual skin. “I have so many questions. You will be translating her answers.”

Harry stared down at his friend for one long minute, absently listing to the low murmur of snakey-chortling. He then lowered his head until it was buried in the side of Hermione’s bushy hair and joined in with Hastiti. He just couldn’t help it. Of course Hermione wanted to question the basilisk. He was foolish for imagining any other outcome.

Hermione wasn’t quite as impressed with his laughing fit, but she didn’t push him out of her hair, instead grabbing some toast to butter and quietly waiting him out with the exasperated patience of one who has done this many times before, and didn’t quite understand why she kept expecting better from the lovable fools she surrounded herself with.

Her show of patience didn’t mean that she didn’t grace Harry with a Look, however. And this Look immediately had Harry thinking of McGonagall and her Look to Dumbledore.

With the warmth provided by the memory of McGonagall’s apology (to him!) being compounded by Hermione’s constant weight in his side and Hastiti’s firm pressure on his wrist, it probably wasn’t a surprising that next words he managed to blurt out weren’t actually connected to what Hermione was saying at all.

“I’ve decided to be McGonagall when I grow up.” Hermione’s eyebrow went up as she watched him lean back out, just enough that he could meet her eyes again, but not enough that the straps of her hair that had gotten caught on his glasses pulled. Harry ignored the strands to nod. "I’m pretty sure you don’t need to decide that; you’re already well on your way.”

At the sight of the second eyebrow going up, he hurried on. “Right! Information. Um. Parselmagic is the answer to the size thing. Not sure about the rest. And Hastiti isn’t the best at answering right now? I mean she just had some info from watching Sly-her Master but between Voldemort’s mind-control and her years alone she’s a little spotty.”

Harry was well acquainted with crest-fallen faces. He’d seen them enough in the windows and mirrors of the Dursley house before he’d become truly resigned to the fact that they’d never really love him, before he’d wisened up to the way Uncle Vernon liked to taunt him. He’d seen it in Dudley’s victims too, not just Harry himself, but the other kids the boy bullied. Crest-fallen was not a look he’d let settle on Hermione’s face, not if he could help it.

“Hastiti wants to eat Aunt Petunia! And her frying pan.” Shit. That was not what he wanted to lead with, and not just because he sort of remembered saying it last night. There were too many emotions to remember things clearly, but he was pretty sure.

Hastiti’s desire to eat his relatives was connected to his, very vague, plan to get more information over the summer, but that wasn’t the part that would make Hermione happy. Except, Hermione did look happy. Viciously so.

“Good.”  Hermione set her knife down hard enough to rattle her glass of purloined juice.

“Um.”

“Harry.” Her eyes were soft, and maybe a bit sad as she placed a plate with toast and strawberries in front of him. As she did every morning. “I respect your choice to tell me things in your own time, but I’m not stupid, and I don’t save you a plate every mealtime just because Ron eats like a pig.”

Harry blinked, because of lingering hair in eyes, not water. He knew he was thin, even after a year of Hogwarts food, and rather small, but still. Hermione respected him, him and his choices. Hermione suspected, and instead of badgering or demanding to know more, as part of him had been afraid she might, had just tried to help.

Which, really shouldn’t have been that surprising, since both of them were very aware that neither had friends before Hogwarts. Both of them were aware that the other was terrified of losing the only friends they had. Knowledge was one thing, however, and that one thing was very different than actual social interaction.

“Does Ron…” Harry didn’t lift his gaze from the toast, perfectly spread with enough butter to soften the bread just slightly, but not enough to make him nauseous or remind him of Dudley. Hastiti constricted on his wrist at the name and Harry really really liked snake hugs.

Hermione pursed her lips. “I’m not sure. He knows something is wrong, I think, but with the way Ron’s family is, I’m not really sure he understands the source is your family. We haven’t talked about it.”

Harry reached over and have one gentle squeeze to the hand Hermione had left on the table, his own version of a snake hug. “Thanks, Mione,” he mumbled to the plate, “I was going to tell you that, too.” And he was going to, Harry was almost surprised to realize. Particularly after their talk in the Hospital Wing (Hermione had called him her brother). “Just, not yet.”

Hermione nodded, hair bobbing up and down. “Whenever you want, Harry. I have to ask, I mean, I think I already know, but, is there no one else you can stay with? Dumbledore…”

“Insists I stay with the protective Blood Wards around my Aunt’s house.” Even Harry could hear the lack of emotion in his own voice.

Hermione more than made up for it with the venom in hers, despite the softness in her tone. “Does he now?”

And well. Harry was pretty sure that murderous was not the improvement on crest-fallen that he’d hoped for, so he reached for the only distraction he had.

“So. Information,” Harry quickly said. “Hastiti isn’t going to eat Aunt Petunia cause that’s bad and also not her frying pan because that’s not something she can eat and also against the ground rules I’m trying to set up, but she is going to scare the Dursley’s a bit. Enough, we’re thinking, for me to have a bit more freedom to do things like visit Diagon Alley. Hastiti might not have a complete picture of Parselmagic, or even Wizard magic in general, but she has several places to start and is an excellent sensor. We figure that she can steer us in the right direction and maybe find some unique books or items in second hand shops and stuff?”

Hermione was tapping her library book again, finger repeatedly hitting the brass clasp on the edge, head tilting in consideration. “Not a bad idea. Not at all.” Her eyes slid to the small head peeking out of Harry’s sleeve. “Do you think you can lead us to more defence-oriented books and artefacts?”

“Of course, Little Lioness. I will protect my hatchling and his nest-mates.”

“Hermione? Oh, Hastiti says yes, for protection, but why?”

Hermione paused a moment, before sitting up straight and turning to face Harry full-on. “You’ve faced Voldemort three times before our OWL exams, two of those times at school! Not to mention all the pot-shots that students have taken at you over this heir of Slytherin/parseltongue thing that won’t be going away with Hastiti around your neck- I’m well aware she won’t stay in your pocket or around your wrist forever, Harry, don’t even try- and the bullying, actual bullying from an actual Professor! And whatever happens to you at home. We need to be Prepared, and ignorance is not being Prepared, and the school library is being watched. People keep hurting you and that is not okay and I won’t let it keep happening. If we have an ancient basilisk on our side, we are damn well going to use that resource to Prepare effectively!”

She stood up abruptly at the end of her speech. Startling the passing mostly-asleep fifth year that was walking behind them to make it further down the slowly-filling table. She grabbed several apples and a banana from a platter of fruit and shoved them in her pocket. Reaching down to grab Harry’s non-snake occupied wrist she tugged him sharply. “Let’s go.”

Harry quickly grabbed the book, sagging slightly under it’s weight and wondering if leaving a library book behind had been a mark of Hermione’s agitation or a sign she wasn’t quite healed yet.

He was distracted by Hastiti, who’d apparently abandoned his wrist to sneak up to the hollow between his neck and shoulder, tail wrapping in what he felt was a rather obvious manner around his throat.

“Little Lioness is my favourite.”

“Yeah, Mione’s pretty great.” Harry felt his grin only grow as Hermione towed him out of the Great Hall and around a group of giggling Hufflepuffs.

Hermione looked back at the parseltongue, and Harry grinned wider. “Hastiti says you’re her favourite.”

Hermione sniffed, but Harry could see her smile even as she turned to face the doors to the grounds and continued tugging him along. “Tell her thank you. And that I’m sorry for calling her a resource. That sounds rather rude, now that I think about it.”

“Not rude. Cunning. Good thinking. You should do that too, hatchling.”

“She says that it’s not rude, but cunning. She’s proud.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yes it is.” The sun hit Harry as they stepped outside, and he laughed, once, as the warm light hit his skin. “Mione. Mione, wait, where are we going.”

She glanced back at him and slowed a step, linking their arms instead of tugging him along like a snitch on a string. “We’re going out the Lake where people can’t hear us or sneak up on us and you are going to tell me everything that happened in the Chamber and with Ron. Then we are going to plan, properly, how both of us are getting to Diagon Alley this summer without supervisions other than an ancient basilisk. After that, you are going to take a nap and I’m going to write to the twins.”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “The twins?”

“The twins.”

Harry huffed, and not just because he had to be careful of his step heading down the rocky path at Hermione’s pace. Though he did notice his friend resting rather more weight than usual on his arm, and purposefully stumbled a bit to get her to slow down. ”Why are you writing to the twins, Hermione?”

“To suggest a collaboration.”

“With the twins? What on?”

Hermione flicked her hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t think I was going to let the ‘Professor Dumbledore send me back to my questionable relatives each year’ thing go, did you?”

Harry stopped. “Yes, I did. Because he a professor. He’s the Headmaster.”

“And you’re my broth-friend. My best friend. And I’m a kid and need to use the resources available to me.” There was a slight blush to her cheeks as Hermione continued down the path, leaving Harry on a step in the hill, speaking with ever increasing volume.

“And the twins are the resources? You’re going to prank a professor? No, wait, you’re going to prank the Headmaster? No, wait, you’re going to prank anyone?”

She turned, hand on her hip. “Yes, Harry. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Punishment may not be swift and it may not fit the crime, but it will happen.”

“You should tell Pride Leader. She isn’t happy with Incompetent Goat. May help.”

“You think we should tell McGonagall?!?”

Hermione blinked up at Harry and his strangled tone. “Interesting. When you’re telling me about the Chamber maybe you should also tell me about this new desire to be Professor McGonagall; I’ve clearly missed something.” She turned and continued heading down to the Lake. “Maybe the Professor could be added to a List of allied resources.”

Harry stared.

Hermione waved, absently. “Come on, Harry. I have Lists to make!”

Harry went.

Hastiti laughed.

The laughter didn’t bother Harry. He loved Hermione, very much, and so knew that one did not get between her and a List. Certainly not several Lists.

“You want me to meet this person.”

“Yes. Last one. Promise, Hastiti.” Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was holding Harry’s hand in order to let him guide her down the path while she read her library book on magical creatures. She was completely unconcerned with her surroundings, and even less with Harry and Hastiti speaking parseltongue in her ear. Though Harry supposed she’d had plenty of time to get used to it after a morning of Hastiti’s interruptions meant to get Harry to include some detail of the story he’d forgotten or some moment in which she’d thought he’d failed to properly convey her magnificence.

Hastiti had also been invaluable in plotting. She had some great ideas for getting them both to Diagon Alley over the summer without supervision (mainly that she was a thousand years old and thus should be ‘adult’ enough for Hermione to tell her parents she would, in fact, be under adult supervision the entire time).

“I don’t mind. You were just very sure I should be smaller for meeting friends, before.” Hastiti flicked her tongue at his cheek.

“Not this one. You’ll like him.”

“I like Pride Leader, Little Lioness, Twin Menaces, and Snake-thinker.”

Harry halted his steps across the grounds, Hermione stumbling to a stop with a raised eyebrow beside him. Harry ignored her to stare at his snake. “Professor McGonagall, Hermione, the twins, and who?”

“The smaller red-head who reacted poorly.”

“Ron? You like Ron? But…”

Harry got a snake hug, cool loops tightening around his shoulders carefully, and was reminded once again why snake hugs were rapidly becoming his new favourite thing. 

“He has clever eyes. Snake eyes. But a Lion’s loyalty. He needs to assess me as a threat to him and his, but once done so, he will be happy enough.”

Hermione huffed but went back to reading as Harry started walking again, well used to her friend getting distracted in his own thoughts, even thought this time those thoughts were shared out loud with a snake.

Their steps barely made a sounds a descended rough steps carved into he hill. Harry’s hand ran across dark scales several times before his managed to speak. “What if he decides I’m not his?”

“The he is stupid, and you and Little Lioness would not choose a stupid nest-mate.”

Harry was silent the rest of the way, only absently pulling his robes tighter against an odd, lingering wind. Hastiti wasn’t wrong. Ron was clever in a way Harry and Hermione weren’t. Harry had the survival instincts and paranoia down, and Hermione had the booksmarts and general knowledge to best most anyone, but Ron was clever.

He thought several steps in advance, not so much in school, but in chess and in people. He was the one to explain dynamics between friend, family, and house groups in ways that Harry and Hermione would have missed. He never made them ask the question, just went off on an explanation whenever one of them looked slightly confused. Ron also never asked them why they were confused, not after the first time. He seemed to take their comments about few friends, Harry because of his cousin and Hermione because of her smarts, and run to all sorts of conclusions.

Probably accurate ones.

Harry nodded as he reached the door, Hermione tucking her book into her bag. Hastiti was right. Harry would have faith in his first friend. Well, his first friend his age.

With a sudden large grin Harry slammed his fist down several time’s on the rough wood.

“Comin’, comin’. Hold yeh’re hippogriffs.” Harry and Hermione shared an excited look before turning back to the worn wood as it opened.

Harrys grin only got wider as Hagrid opened the door and stared down at Harry, Hermione, and the green snake drooped thrice around Harry’s shoulders with another foot of length trailing down his back.

“Hi Hagrid! Welcome back. I found a magical snake!” Here he reached up and lightly grasped said snake, who looped herself around his wrist so Harry could raise her upwards. “Her name’s Hastiti! She’s decided to keep me.”

“Aw, Harry. She’s magnificen’.”

Hastiti looked at the very large man, kneeling down in his doorway to get closer to both students and snake, and then at her very small nestling, holding her so she could be better admired. 

“Oh yes. I like him very much. Do you think he has rats? He looks like he might have rats. I’d also accept a deer. Or a cow. Or several of each.”