Chapter Text
With the Marauders’ Map in one hand, his wand in the other, Harry peered around a corner under the cover of his invisibility cloak. He watched Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat who seemed to be making it her personal goal over the summer to have the Hogwarts caretaker catch him on one of his daily “errands.”
<Evil cat. Why won’t it leave usss be?> Ladon lamented.
Harry didn’t respond knowing if he whispered parseltongue back, Mrs. Norris would catch it. He believed the cat had taken in a vested interest in him because she was bored and he was the only student available to stalk. At least he hoped so. If the grudge continued into the school year, he and that cat were going to have problems.
The hallways were clear up here, but he knew as soon as Mrs. Norris caught his scent, she would be yowling for Filch. And just like every other day for the past two weeks, she was lurking around the owlery as if to catch him in the act. He’d already missed Hedwig yesterday, hoping the cat would lose interest if he didn’t show during his normal time, but apparently she was more persistent than Harry hoped.
Harry sighed. He really needed to send a letter to Hermione before she worried. There was no helping it. He would just have to be quick. He sprinted past Mrs. Norris, invisibility cloak fluttering and likely exposing his sneaker-clad feet. As predicted, the cat began to yowl for her master. Harry expected he wouldn’t have more than a few minutes before Filch came by and he was trapped and caught. And if he were caught, he knew it was a one-way ticket back to the Dursleys, his muggle relatives Harry vowed over a year ago he would never be forced back to live with again.
<You are jossstling me!> Ladon complained.
<Only for a little bit!> Harry hissed back, tearing up the owlery steps.
When he reached the top, Harry was overcome with relief to find a snowy owl waiting for him, preening her feathers on a perch. The owlery itself was near empty with the students gone for the holidays.
“Hi, Hedwig,” Harry greeted, holding his arm out for her to land on. The jointly shared owl between him and Hermione leaned into Harry’s touch as he stroke her head.
Once the owl was satisfied by Harry’s pets, she nipped his fingers for a treat.
“Patience,” Harry chastised, pulling out a strip of bacon he’d saved from breakfast that morning. The owl snapped it up greedily. Meanwhile, Harry began untying a letter attached to her leg. Unsurprising, there were multiple tightly bound pages. Hermione’s letters were always long.
Just as he pulled out his own letter from his pocket, Hedwig fluttered off his arm and onto a perch out of reach.
“Hedwig, no!” Harry hissed. “I don’t have time for this today.”
Hedwig resumed preening her wing, unconcerned.
Harry groaned. “If Hermione doesn’t hear back from me, she’s going to set all the resources of the muggle and magical world loose to find me.”
Hedwig ignored Harry’s dramatics entirely. He spent several minutes shifting between entreaties and threats to draw the snowy owl back down to attach his own letter, but Hedwig remained unconcerned. Finally, after apologizing for not seeing as much of her and promise to do better with a token of more bacon, Hedwig was finally lured back to a more reasonable perch. Of course, that was when Harry heard McGonagall’s voice at the bottom of the owlery steps.
“Mr. Filch, I can assure you there are no students within Hogwarts during the summer holidays. If they were, the headmaster would have found them long ago. Perhaps Mrs. Norris is just getting more paranoid in her older years.”
Harry quickly tied his letter to Hedwig and sent her off, before pulling the invisibility cloak back over himself.
“Professor, my cat is as healthy as if she were still a kitten. I know her. She smelled trouble!”
“If you can provide me proof, Mr. Filch, I will consider it. But until then, I believe we both have much to do before the new term begins that does not include chasing after invisible students.” McGonagall’s voice crept a volume higher. “Now, I am opening this door to mail a very important letter. I suggest you return to your own duties as well.”
Harry grinned. That was a sign if there ever was one. He snuck down the steps and slipped out the door McGonagall had opened as she said while Filch stammered a response. His argument was not helped when Mrs. Norris began to yowl again at the scent of him.
Harry hurried down the hallway, but managed to sneak a glance back at McGonagall who seemed to have a small smile on her face as she headed up the owlery steps.
For the past two months, Harry had suspected McGonagall knew where he was. A couple weeks into summer, Harry had been spending most of his time in the Chamber of Secrets which had proven to be inaccessible to anyone except himself so far. He had grown complacent in those two weeks and had been on his way back to the Chamber from the kitchens without the Marauders’ Map to check. The Chamber of Secrets offered much to keep him busy, but was distinctly lacking in food. The Hogwarts kitchens had been a relief to find sanctuary in; the house elves were always happy to ply Harry with food. Thankfully, that night he had still been wearing his invisibility cloak once he left after saying good-bye to the house-elves. He had stayed late to listen to their gossip of students long past. Harry was comforted to know they adored his mother, Lily, praising her good hygiene sensibilities. However, they had mixed feelings about Harry’s father, James, and his friends who were good for a laugh but also left all sorts of nasty messes from their pranks for the house elves to clean up. Harry had been worried at first when he learned the small creatures worked at the school and would tell Dumbledore, but as they always told Harry, “a house elf be loyal to its house, Master Harry. Not the headmaster.”
On his way, he had rounded a corner and very nearly run straight into Professor McGonagall, dressed down in a bathrobe and Gryffindor slippers, he hair loose from its usual bun and done up in curlers. While he avoided running into her, his sneakers had still squeaked on the freshly polished floor, and there had been not a doubt in Harry’s mind the Professor had heard him.
Her eyes had widened with surprise, looking around the corridor, before softening as she touched her hair as if to ensure it was all in place. “Strange the sounds one hears in a castle at night. At least I can take comfort in knowing whatever the castle’s inhabitants require, they are often provided for,” she said carefully towards Harry’s general direction. “And if someone were here, I would hope they wouldn’t hesitate to ask for my help if needed.”
And then she very pointedly, continued on her way, towards the kitchens Harry noticed. He might have been concerned his head of house would start interrogating the house elves, except she spent all of two minutes at the entrance to the kitchens to ask for hot cocoa and then left.
Since then, McGonagall had seemed to do several small things to help Harry. Almost as if he weren’t sure she was helping at all. It was not until Harry’s Hogwarts letter arrived addressed to Harry and left in the owlery by Hedwig’s perch with no snowy owl in sight that he truly believed it.
Harry J. Potter
Hogwarts Castle
Scotland, England
Folded within the usual letter and supply list had been a simple note in McGonagall’s handwriting that read, “when you are ready to prepare for the upcoming term, do not hesitate to contact me.”
However, Harry had not gotten this far in his life without a healthy dose of skepticism for adults. He planned to reach out to the professor the week before classes began and hope that was enough time to avoid Dumbledore’s machinations.
That deadline was rapidly approaching. Harry was mostly excited to return to school and classes. He was certainly more than anxious to see his friends again, particularly Hermione. His only contact with others outside of letters over the summer had been with Ladon, his faithful grass snake friend, the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets who couldn’t seem to parse Harry’s sarcasm, and the house elves of Hogwarts, who were interesting in their own way, but always a little too enthusiastic to see and serve him. Harry didn’t think there would come a day he would miss human contact so much, and yet…
Harry waited to read Hermione’s latest letter until he was back in the Chamber of Secrets. He tucked away his invisibility cloak in his makeshift bedroom of Salazar Slytherin’s private study, before he returned to the main chamber and curled up against the Basilisk’s half-dozing form to read the letter aloud. The Basilisk always seemed to enjoy Hermione’s letters the most ever since she learned what a scholar the young witch could be. If Harry had hoped a summer without Hermione and schoolwork would give him a break from learning, he was sorely mistaken from the strict study regime the Basilisk implemented of Slytherin’s private library in the Chamber.
<Listen to this! Apparently, my friend experimented in her summer camp with reactions between acids and bases and thinks there’s a precedent there that can apply to potions. She’s been scouring through our potions textbook from last year to make a case on it.> Hermione had spent most of her summer at various educational camps, probably in the efforts of her parents to ensure Hermione still received some kind of muggle education. Most kids would hate basically having more school over the summer. Hermione loved it.
<Very clever,> the Basilisk approved. <Ssshe ssshould write a paper and give to your potionsss professssor for extra credit.>
<If our potions professor was fair maybe,> Harry grumbled. <But she’ll probably write one anyway.> Harry made a note for his next letter on what his “Auntie B” had said. He had started referring to her as such in his letters, deciding that was the best codename he could give the Basilisk that wouldn’t tip anyone off to where he was or who he was with. Not even Hermione knew the Basilisk’s true nature yet. The nickname had stuck, so that by this point, Harry was even referring to the Basilisk directly by the moniker. And it even worked in parseltongue somewhat, but wasn’t as affectionate as a title for snakes since they lacked significant familial connections. But the Basilisk understood the human sentiment in the name all the same, and she seemed to approve wholeheartedly. And it made Harry’s heart ache pleasantly to think there was someone he could use the title affectionately for rather than thinking solely of Petunia Dursley. Harry called her “My Lady” sometimes to be cheeky though, a reference to Salazar Slytherin’s original name for the basilisk of “Princess.”
Hermione had been rather concerned when Harry mentioned an “Auntie B” he had just met taking him in and looking after him. But once he had started to complain about the intense study regime, Hermione’s hesitancy flipped practically overnight to approval. Harry suspected with friends like Hermione and Auntie B, he would never be able to slack off again. Auntie had spent a good hour lecturing Harry when he had told her how much he hadn’t paid attention or tried in potions class his first year.
<What elssse does ssshe sssay?> The basilisk asked.
<Sounds like her parents have made plans with the red-haired family to meet up in a wizard market a couple weeks before school begins. Do you think I should plan my reveal to meet with them too?>
<It isss earlier than you wanted,> The Basilisk pointed out. <Time enough to return to the kin you hate.>
<We should go!> Ladon argued. A rare occurrence as he still deferred to the Basilisk as if she were going to eat him at any moment. <To see the nicccce one.>
<You only think she’s nice because she can’t hear what you’re saying and sneaks you treats from the table.>
<Precisssely.>
The Basilisk flicked her tongue in a pondering way. Harry waited for her to come to an appropriate conclusion. <I do not find ssssignificant danger in thisss plan. But the choiccce is yours.>
Harry slumped. <I’d love to. But I doubt the headmaster would let me. He’s very strict about this no students in the summer thing. And I doubt they’ll be pleased when they learn I haven’t had an adult looking after me all summer.>
The basilisk snorted with irritation. <I think after a thousssand plusss yearsss I more than qualify.>
Harry grinned. <Well, sure, but I can’t exactly tell them about you, can I? Chamber of Secrets remember?>
<A valid argument.>
<Do you mind if I told my head of house? I think she could keep the secret.>
<Sssshe’s the one you think sssuspectsss you are already here?>
<Yes.>
<I sssuppossse. My Massster would suggessst you have her sssswear an unbreakable vow.>
<What’s that?>
The basilisk almost seemed to sigh. She had taken on a lot of human mannerisms it seemed over her time in the school. Harry wondered how long it had been since she had been around another snake before Ladon came with Harry. Eating ones from the Forbidden Forest didn’t count obviously.
<I forget how ignorant you are at timessss. They are magical vowsss which a wizzzard or witch mussst adhere to upon pain of death.>
<Yeah, I’m going to make her do that.>
<Sssuit yourself, Disssciple of the Lion Houssse.>
Harry scowled. Auntie only called him a “Gryffindor” if she thought he was being foolish. He was not being foolish. He just didn’t think a secret was worth telling if it could only be spoken on pain of death. Better it stay secret then.
<I think I’ll wait,> Harry decided. <I’ll see them all in a few weeks anyway when school begins. And Dumbledore will hardly relocate me with only a week. Can’t take the chance with three.>
<A well-reasssoned decisssion. Now, if you are done with your friend’sss letter, I believe you have ssstudying left to complete today.>
Harry scowled harder. <The point of summer holidays is to not have to work.>
<You were the one who chose to ssspend your sssummer in a ssschool,> Auntie pointed out. <Before you have dinner, pleassse read the chapter on charm creation in my massster’s fifth journal. Once done, if you can sssummarize the five main elementsss he postulatesss are required for charm creation, the rest of the day is yoursss to do with as you pleassse.>
Harry let out an overdramatic groan before standing up. <Very well.>
He headed to Slytherin’s library on the right side of the chamber. In a sense, it had become his classroom while living in the Chamber. All the books were very old. Many as old as Salazar himself, and some even older. Auntie always cautioned him to handle them with care. Newer books had been supplemented on the shelves from previous Parselmouths who had found the chamber and used it for their own purposes. Not all of them of were pleasant reading material and Harry suspected if Dumbledore or the Ministry were to find them, they would be confiscated.
He had levitated a desk and chair from Slytherin’s study to the library over the course of an onerous afternoon when Auntie had sought to test the limits of his magical abilities without a wand. He had never expected “wingardium leviosa” to be so draining and expected it would have taken less of a toll on him if he had pushed the furniture by hand across the chamber.
Harry’s eyes scanned the special shelf of leather-bound books belonging to Slytherin and his Heirs who had come after. He quickly found the fifth and his eyes focused on the letters that appeared slightly fuzzy at first before focusing. The Basilisk had explained all the journals were written in parseltongue, which Harry hadn’t realized could exist as a written language considering snakes weren’t known for their literary capabilities. But parselmouth wizards had made up the written language and passed it on through the magical genetic gift. The inherently magical writing automatically translated the script for Parselmouths.
Originally, Harry had to focus on Auntie, Ladon, or the image of a snake every so often so he could read the script of whorls and swirls. But overtime, he had adjusted to read it almost as well as English, and could even focus enough to be able to sound out individual words so he heard them in the hiss-like language he usually automatically translated to English when it came from his mouth. The only problem was that afterwards it took a while for Harry to revert back to writing in normal English.
As he settled into Slytherin’s scholarly writing, Harry sunk with the realization he would have to take notes and likely wouldn’t be able to write a response immediately to Hermione that afternoon. The last time, he had accidentally sent a whole letter to Hermione of parseltongue script she had been less than amused by until Harry explained in his next letter. Of course, now she was claiming if the language could be written, it was more likely she could probably learn it, and she was insistent Harry begin teaching her in the new term. Hermione was a force of nature when she found a new topic that caught her interest.
Harry smiled at the memory of his best friend. She would kill to be in his shoes right now, studying Slytherin’s original journals. And with that thought in mind, he managed to find the motivation to read on, thinking of all the questions she would ask him when school resumed. Best be prepared.