Chapter Text
Groaning, Harry opened his eyes to see a red bird staring down at him reprovingly. For a moment, he wondered why the giant bird seemed to be upset; then he remembered why he was here and why Fawkes was looking at him reproachfully. Feeling his scar, his hand came away with blood and some black gunk.
“Oh, I guess that worked,” he muttered. A disappointed chirp made Harry realize that phoenix was attempting to scold him.
“Sorry Fawkes,” he apologized to the Headmaster’s phoenix, “Didn’t mean to inconvenience you to save me again,”
Fawkes flapped onto his shoulder then groomed his hair which was now covered with the gunk from the Chamber floor. Harry had not expected to return to the Chamber of Secrets. In fact, if not for the conference in the office, he blithely would have gone his own way.
“Thank you, Harry,” Lily said to him once he regained consciousness in Dumbledore’s office.
“For what?” he asked, thinking she was about to commend him for his action against the basilisk.
“For using your parseltongue for good,” she said, her eyes not drifting at all to his face, “If you hadn’t, Alex would never have been able to kill the basilisk…”
She had gone on about his brother, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore. A cold chill took over his body as the events after killing the diary came back. There had been a flash of red, a stunning spell. Catching his twin’s eye, he saw his younger brother smirk at him. Yet another thing Alex stole from him. His heirships and now the credit twice over for Harry’s own deeds. That coldness turned to fury as the whispers came from his scar which Harry ignored.
Ron Weasley noticed something ominous emanating from Harry as the face of his friend’s brother turned blank. Seeing the boy’s eyes flash white almost caused him to open his mouth but he was prevented as Dumbledore dismissed himself and Harry. As their part was over, Ginny and his parents were already heading towards the Hospital Wing. However, he did overhear something before the gargoyle closed.
“Now about Harry’s scar. I believe it came from the attack that night and I fear…” it was cut off. Ron felt the crackling of ozone and turned to stare at Harry whose banked fury erupted. Wanting to go back to the office for safety, Ron found his way blocked even if he whispered the current password. Backing against the wall, he witnessed the other Potter twin’s breakdown.
“He knew. That thrice-cursed asshole knew I had a bloody leech. Was I intended to be the sacrifice along?” Harry shouted, eyes sparking white, “Or was I just an inconvenience in the tale of Alex Potter? Those damned kin betraying rat bastards,”
Ron knew he was not supposed to hear this rant. Yet before he was able to say anything, Harry stormed off down the hall. The redhead stared as the other boy’s stalk turned into a full sprint.
“Merlin’s Balls, that is the first time I ever saw Harry angry,” he couldn’t help but say aloud. Part of him wanted to go back into the office but something stopped him. After a brief moment of indecision, he decided he needed to check on Ginny. Maybe he could ask Bill what Harry meant but for now, he was going to pretend he heard nothing. If he knew what Harry intended on doing, I have no doubt he would have returned to the office to warn the Headmaster and the Potters. As it was, he missed Fawkes flying overhead after Harry.
In a state of seething fury as he hit a good clip and use of parkour, the emerald-eyed preteen internally resolved to ensure that Alex was never going to claim the Chamber in full. Keeping what he took was a matter he dismissed out of his mind. All he wanted to do was leave Alex with an incomplete victory. However, another reason he raced down was Dumbledore’s mention of his scar; the scar sealed by his martial arts instructor and Kung Fu Master Zhang Yunche. That all three knew about it and did nothing; both infuriated and terrified him.
If pressed, Harry would concede that it did affect him despite the leech being sealed. It often whispered about the power that could be his that he may use against his traitorous family. He refused to accept, knowing it would drain him; knowing sacrificing a fifth of his power was worth his life and sanity. Ever since he was six and his shifu contained the scar, Harry grasped that he may need to maintain this seal for life for ever how long or short it might be. He thought his parents ignorant, just worried about his potential for darkness.
Yet what he overheard, destroyed that delusion. They knew about his scar. His scar that he likely got from Halloween 1981? That scar and they never tried to get it removed? Just ignored it and him until it suited them? That they ignored it on purpose? Well, he was just going to have to follow the old saying. If you want something done right, you might as well do it yourself. That included removing this leech, one way or the other.
Harry pushed away the feelings of betrayal that his family discarded him years ago and anger that he wasted so much time on trying to win them over. There was no time for shock or grief or rage; he had to get in before anyone saw him. Still sprinting at top speed, he finally reached Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. She was not in the toilet, thank goodness. So, no one would know that Harry returned to the bathroom to access the Chamber.
Hissing at the sink, he waited for it to open before sliding back down into its depths; ignoring that more slime was coating his robes. Crashing into the familiar bones, he stood up, winded both from his sprint and the impact. As he got to the cave-in, Harry merely pushed more of the stones out of the way so he could pass through the opening more easily. Commanding the portal to open again in snake tongue, Harry stepped inside.
Once he entered the chamber, he rooted around the basilisk’s mouth for a loose fang. Having been inspired by his actions towards the diary, Harry was going to do something risky. With careful aim as he only had one shot at this, he struck his scar. The searing white-hot pain that immediately followed revealed his own stupidity in this action.
“Shifu is going to kill me,” he muttered as he collapsed in pain.
Thinking it was his imagination regarding his ally from the earlier battle that allowed him to see a red-feathered body, Harry resigned himself to lying in the Chamber forever as the familiar black from before came crawling back. Now that his vision returned though hazy through his glasses, he realized it had not been a hallucination, Fawkes had come through again for him.
Hazy? Why were his glasses hazy? He took them off seeing the Chamber come back into focus and then back on seeing everything become blurry. Glancing at Fawkes, the bird seemed to shrug. Since they were the closest match out of the bargain bin, Harry had no qualms at throwing them to the side. He saw things clearly now. He hadn’t had clear vision since he was four.
“Gaisi,” Harry swore. The rest of his words would have his shifu and his aunt wash his mouth out with soap even if they did sympathize with his sentiments.
After he turned the air blue, Harry felt along the scar. It had transformed from a lightning bolt to a ridged sunburst. He also found black gunk on his hand.
“Yuck,” he wiped it on his uniform only to acquire more slime.
Perhaps he had been a bit too out of it to realize but he did hear a familiar shriek before things started to fade to black.
“I killed it,” he said. Then he smiled tremulously, “I killed another piece of that rotter. Hahaha, take that Alex. I’ve killed more of him than you did. May it eat at you arswipe,”
Mentioning Alex made him remember what he came here for. Getting up rather shakily from the cold stone, he noticed the second fang dropped near the first.
“I wonder what they would make of that,” Harry wondered seeing the blood and black goop sizzling on the edge of the fang. With a sigh, he turned to his companion.
“Well Fawkes, I’m exploring. You better get back to your master before he misses you,” he addressed his ally attempting to ignore his giant kill.
Fawkes, to his shock, shook his head and preened his hair even more. Harry wondered again why the headmaster’s bird decided to aid him. Dumbledore would never help him unless there was reason. Harry decided to ignore Fawkes’ rebellion for now. His goal to find something that he could take from the Chamber without anyone realizing immediately that he returned, remained.
Thus, he wandered though he avoided Slytherin’s head and the basilisk corpse, running his hand over wet stone every so often. On a whim, he took the passage the basilisk chased him through some time ago. As Harry traversed, he kept his hand running over the rock. Then suddenly he brushed up against a door handle near the middle of the passage.
“That’s odd,” he said as brushed his hand several times to verify that there was a door handle there instead of solid rock.
After verifying that there was a handle, he grabbed it and pulled down. Yet the door didn’t open, and the rock wall image remained. Resting his other hand immediately above where he found the handle, he felt wood reinforced by metal coils.
“An illusion covering the door?” he wondered aloud. Then he said, “Open,”
Nothing happened. Harry sighed, “Couldn’t be that easy. Maybe, I should just say ‘Friend’ like Gandalf,”
He smirked at the thought but deciding there was nothing else for it; he said, “Friend,”
Again, nothing happened, then Harry decided that it needed to be said in parseltongue like the Doors of Durin needed Elven. Recalling the image of a snake, he hissed, “Friend,”
Suddenly a simple oaken door was revealed as the illusion melted away. A pair of silver snakes lay on the wood, coiled together in rest. The snakes opened eyes of ruby and sapphire. After studying him, they threaded through the door. The mechanisms behind clicked and the door popped open
Harry later scolded himself for blithely entering the space despite the good results it had for his future. Considering other times, he poked his nose into things that had gotten him into plenty of trouble even without his siblings stirring the pot, it was rather foolish of him. Still, his curiosity for what lay in the room remained stronger than his fear, as he chose to enter. This action, in retrospect, turned the tide for him not that he knew it at the time.
Unlike what he or anyone else expected from Slytherin, the room had a cozy, almost Hufflepuffish feeling to it. Barely restraining tears at the memory of how the House cast him out months ago depriving him of the warmth he loved from his first year, Harry dismissed his reminiscences in favor of exploring the odd chamber.
There was a hearth in the center, its fire having died long ago. A nice box bed lay nearby in the best place in the room; the warm oak adding to the homey, medieval feeling. A sink was on a desk that had several towels close by, still in good condition, possibly preserved by the Chamber itself as was a chamber pot left mercifully in a far corner. Yet Harry’s attention was drawn by the bookshelves, filled to bursting with chests, books and papers that fit together like a Jenga tower.
Harry was studying the titles when a loud, “Ahem,” caused the preteen to whirl around.
A dark-haired man with olive skin and bright green eyes that Harry often found when eying his own reflection had spoken from the portrait he had failed to spot earlier on the left wall, wearing a faint smile. The subject was atypically wiry for a warrior of that period, but he wore his armor comfortably and had a curved sword sheathed by his side. A green cloak, thrown carelessly over a chair completed the portrait that stood pugnaciously against the world.
“Despite my reputation for ambition and intrigue, I was still an accomplished warrior,” the portrait commented, “Godric thought it funny to ensure my portrait would reflect less the mage and more the fighter he met after I left Cordoba. The only reason I accepted was that Helga and Renata talked me into it. Perhaps my old friend was right, it was easier to place more of myself in this than I thought before I left to deal with my grandson-in-law,” he finished sorrowfully.
“Are you like the Diary?” Harry’s question slipped out.
The man’s face grew dark, “No, not like Herpo’s abominations. More akin to Rowena’s diadem or a pensieve if you must think about it. Your phoenix would have reacted if I was a horcrux after all,” he said wryly.
“Fawkes isn’t mine,” Harry told the portrait not knowing what a horcrux was even though the word disquieted him.
“Really?” the matching emerald eyes studied the bird, “Odd. However, I take it you are wondering who I am.”
“You can’t be Salazar Slytherin!” the preteen burst out. He had seen the wizened monkey-like face in the middle of the Chamber.
“I am him. I guess my reputation went downhill thanks to the great-grandson sired by Theodorus the Gaunt, but I never hated vernaculi-born. I was wary of them especially since the Catholics were consolidating power in those days and many turned out to be spies due to the increasing religiosity of the peasants,” Salazar informed him.
“But what about that face in the Chamber?” Harry asked.
Salazar laughed, “That was courtesy of the same great-grandson. He tried overly much to boast about his relation to me. While he spoke parseltongue and was able to enter the Chamber, he disliked I was half-Moor from my father’s side, so he attempted to make me more palatable to the Normans that took power. Pah, Renata may have been Norman by her father, but she was Arab by her mother. Only one of my children did not marry a Romano-Celt and he married a Saxon; so, most of us were rather swarthy. My hair was streaked with gray when I aged and I never liked having a beard as I looked too much like my father if I grew one. My mother was sold by her kin into slavery which is why she ended in Spain,” he informed the boy rather kindly.
“Were you a pureblood then?” Harry asked.
“Hah, pure-blood, how funny that term came into being, did they never breed animals?” Salazar laughed the idea to scorn, “I was actually a half-blood by some standards since my mother would be classed a half-blood and my father a squib,”
Harry’s mouth dropped open at that revolutionary fact. This reasonable, warlike man was nothing like the legend about the man who wanted pureblood only to attend Hogwarts. In fact, Slytherin wasn’t one himself. When did history distort reasonable caution into blood prejudice? How did everyone miss that Salazar wasn’t a pureblood or did that get distorted too?
Then again Shifu always stated that history was often distorted by those who wrote it. Zhang Yunche would know since his ancestress was the famous in Chinese history being the disappeared Empress Nara of Qing Era. Using known stories according to court records, Shifu explained that many stories went untold because of the reliance rulers had on a narrative of making themselves look good no matter their actions. Harry soberly contemplated how the Potters’ actions mirrored said monarchs and wondered what it said about them.
“Oh, I see,” he said lamely; not know what to say about centuries of bad press and the revelation of Salazar’s own heritage.
“Now from the look of your uniform, I would say you were one of Helga’s. What happened to have you removed from the house?” the man asked.
Harry found himself telling the whole story of his second year and how he learned the truth of his treatment. The portrait nodded, his face growing troubled. When Harry was done, crying to his surprise, Slytherin finally said.
“This is troubling. I never expected such betrayal from Helga’s house. And that we have such a man serving as headmaster? Troubling for the school. As for your parents, Godric, himself, would hand them over to the witch hunters for leaving such a foul thing untreated,” Salazar continued to mutter imprecations.
Harry thought he heard something about the Year of the StormKing in addition to something about the Egyptians as the man left his portrait. Looking at Fawkes, the phoenix fixed him with a stare causing Harry to sit in the chair near the desk to wait rather than leave. The wait wasn’t long as Salazar returned with a busty blonde whose warm smile added beauty to her otherwise plain face.
“Oh dearie, I’m so sorry,” she looked as though she wanted to reach through the portrait and hug Harry, “I wish I could return you to your old house but the Charter prevents it,” she paused, her blue eyes twinkling, “However, you can use the Charter to judge them and request a resort since they broke their own rules in doing so,”
“How?” Harry asked. He had never heard of such a thing.
Helga smiled, it wasn’t pleasant and had him sit up straighter.
“Oh, I will tell you. However, you will have to be careful in your judgement, or it might come back on you,” she warned.
Harry smirked, “Oh I have an idea of what I am going to do. Hopefully they will grow as human beings,” his overly pious manner caused both in the portrait to laugh.
What Harry demanded when he called upon the Charter to judge his housemates had Helga smile again, all teeth, in enjoyment reminding him that badgers were vicious critters when angered. She gave him an approving nod when he was done, and his uniform returned to the pre-sorting neutral black. Salazar was also smiling like a shark scenting blood.
“Very good, very precise. There is a reason Hufflepuffs and Slytherins worked together well before my current legend took hold,” Salazar gave Helga a warm expression that she returned.
Harry wondered how the legends and history missed the affection between the pair even when they were married to others. Then he straightened up when Salazar asked him in a curious tone.
“How did you find out my password?”
Harry shifted his feet, “I didn’t,” he admitted, “I guessed it as a joke. There is a vernaculi book series called The Lord of the Rings. During the first book, the Fellowship had to enter Moria, but they couldn’t until the wizard Gandalf the Grey guessed the password. He made a hundred guesses until he figured out the door had the answer which was the word friend but in another language. So I figured I might as well. Nothing to lose if I got it wrong,”
Slytherin was laughing at the end of that speech, “Clever, clever but more in line with Godric than me. Ah, it seems you could have fit anywhere in my day. Though, I think Helga would have definitely won,”
Harry said, “The Hat said it was good what I wanted was where I belonged when I was sorted,” then he shrank in himself, his expression mournful, “I wish they wanted me too,”
The portrait versions of the two Founders gave him kind smiles. Then Harry thought of something.
“Why are you two being so kind and answering all my questions? I mean I like it but…,” he pointed out.
Helga laughed, “Well, this means you are more a tossup between me and Sal. You proved yourself worthy, young Heir,”
Harry was about to say that he wasn’t an Heir as James removed him from the Potter inheritance last year, then he got the feeling that that wasn’t what they were talking about.
“Alright,” he accepted it for the moment, “So do I have a claim here?”
Salazar smirked, “You can seal this entire Chamber so that none save yourself can enter. Not even the Headmaster,”
Both founders gave the boy a significant expression, but Harry failed to catch it as he laughed gleefully, now things were looking up. Helga and Salazar chuckled, thinking about the likely surprise for the new heir when he found out the truth.
As for Harry, he was in his happy place, not thinking of the full implications of what his ability to seal the Chamber meant. The mental image of that jerk explaining to the press how he couldn’t enter nor let anyone in was bound to be entertaining and occupied his mind. In addition, not even Dumbledore could override this; of how this was going to be awesome. Thanking the portraits for their help and promising to come back, Harry blithely walked out of the room letting it reseal itself; thinking happily of the humiliation of his twin to come.
Jauntily walking through the Chamber, Harry enjoyed Fawkes’ song that echoed his own lightness of heart and glee. After he exited the main portal, he hissed a command that had the snakes turn into chains crisscrossing the door. He did not observe the seal forming on the door of a golden lion and silver snake intertwining as he was busy going through the fallen rocks. Fawkes carried him up, allowing him to be deposited back on the second floor. With a cheerful trill, the phoenix flew off with Harry giving his ally a wave.
No one observed his exit from the sink as Myrtle was down at the feast to celebrate her death being avenged. Thus his command to the snake on the sink remained unwitnessed by anyone whether alive or not. The snake extended itself, wrapping around the sink with silvery coils. Those coils transformed into a chain that connected to a seal with a coat of arms halved by both lion and snake rampart. His work done on sealing the Chamber, Harry left the bathroom. With a cheery whistle, the preteen departed in a much better mood for his sanctuary, the Room of Requirement to finally clean himself up.
Harry located it in his first year, exploring solo after giving up getting friends in his own house. While he used the room to hide from most of the school, it also worked against him as many said his disappearance was him plotting nefariously. Harry made a face, remembering how often Alex and the New Marauders came after him for the last two years. His own House ignored his plight and even joined in, so much for loyalty. Even when he had a proper alibi multiple times during the attacks, no one’s mind ever changed about the possibility he was the Heir launching those attacks. Well, if he was going to be called a rising Dark Lord he may as well have fun with it. Maybe he should just take a page out of the greats in terms of bad guys like Monty Python to make fun of their stupidity. At least he would be entertained by their gormless expressions.
The celebration from the Great Hall broke into his musings. Staring at the door, Harry thought of entering if only to grab some food. Then he rethought the idea as he knew the room would grow quiet with everyone staring at him, silently demanding that he leave with their eyes. So, he continued onwards past the doors.
“Wait Harry,” the green-eyed preteen paused to see Justin Finch-Fletchey and Ernie Macmillan run towards him from down the hall.
Both boys recoiled at the utterly cold expression that their former housemate levelled at them. Yet Justin proved to be made of slightly sterner stuff than his pure-blooded counterpart.
“Harry, I’m sorry for suspecting you. You see, everyone was saying you were dark and then after the Dueling Club, you revealed yourself as Parselmouth,” Justin began his rambling.
Harry wondered what the point of it all was as the speech started to sound so much like the teachers’ voices from the Charlie Brown cartoon. The obvious insincerity bored him as did the lack of concern for everything he was put through this year. Then he decided that if Finch-Fletchey was going to imitate a boring non-entity; he was going to imitate something more fun.
Drawing himself to his full height and allowing slight menace to creep into his aura, Harry waited for Finch-Fletchey to stop. He did and Macmillan paled at the crackling feeling.
“Apology accepted Justin Finch-Fletchey,” Harry internally preened at capturing Darth Vader’s exact cadence. He then strode away, in best imitation of Professor Snape; his ruined robes billowing and whistling the Imperial Death March.
Neither Justin nor Ernie had expected that.
“Justin, what just happened?” Ernie found words first.
“I haven’t the foggiest,” his friend replied, “Wait, did you see his uniform?”
“It’s all black like before we were sorted but why?” Ernie Macmillan tried to think about how Harry’s gray trim should suddenly revert to neutral.
Then Justin thought of something, “Why did his scar change from a lightning bolt to a sunburst and why is there some black gunk there?”
Ernie’s mouth flopped open. He attempted to think of a reply then shrugged,
“Maybe he got rid of it?”
“Hey, what are you two doing out there? Come on in,” Susan Bones poked her head out.
Exchanging perturbed glances, the two boys decided questions could wait and entered the Hall where everyone was in their pajamas eating candy. Hermione Granger was giving Alex a hug saying, “You solved it,”
Everyone seemed happy except for Slytherin, who only pretended to follow along with the rest of the school. Yet two boys only chewed politely, refusing to wear even a fake smile. Seeing Finch-Fletchey rather disturbed pleased both second years.
“Some one looks troubled,” Blaise Zabini commented with a smirk. Even with the jubilation at the Hufflepuff table, Justin’s own shaky smile and Ernie’s uncertain stance left their neighbors unsettled.
“They should,” Theo Nott snorted in contempt. Then staring at the remains of his pastry, his stomach churned at remembering his friend who was absent from the feast.
“Well, I’m done. Let’s in Harry’s words, blow this popsicle stand,” the pale boy said to his darker counterpart. The two got up from their seats and went to the doors. Marcus Flint prevented anyone from stopping them with a harsh whisper. Other Slytherins soon stopped chewing and looked at the doors, wondering how soon they should leave.
Harry was too busy relaxing in his tub to pay any troubled souls at the feast any mind. Once he got to his sanctuary, a filled tub with the scent of sandalwood permeating the air was waiting for him. Shedding his ruined clothes, Harry got in with a relieved sigh as the warm water met his skin and a house elf helped remove the black gunk, blood, and slime from his hair. The water had to be drained several times before Harry could enjoy a good, soothing soak. Just as he was easing back, a tray extending across the tub appeared.. A roast beef sandwich with toppings spilling out onto the plate along with a side of chips tempted his nose with the accompaniment of a cup of hot green tea at its right. At the left side of the plate was a nice warm treacle tart. The elf popped in.
“Does the Heir need anything else?” the young elf asked.
“No, thank you,” Harry said firmly.
“Very good, Sir,” the elf bowed out.
Several of the teachers attending the impromptu feast, suspected that Harry went to his favored sanctuary, wherever that was in Hogwarts. Still, not all of them were comfortable with the boy’s exclusion from this celebration though doubtless he was having a better time there than here.
“Two of your snakes are leaving the celebration early,” the Mathematics professor, David Morgan, commented to Severus Snape, observing the two boys sidle back from the hall.
“Nott and Zabini, they were only here for the food,” Snape said, “And the fact it would look off if they didn’t show up to party like the rest of Slytherin, but they are Harry’s friends. I think they are angry about how everyone else acted towards him,”
“Harry Potter was innocent all along and no apologies. No comment on his treatment,” Aurora Sinistra added her two cents casting a glare in Andromeda Tonks’ direction as she spoke with Minerva, “Just swept under the rug like it never happened,” her tone was scathing
“He won’t forget. Forgive yes, forget never,” Professor Morgan’s gaze scanned the crowd, “Beware the wrath of a gentle man. Harry will make them all pay in ways they could not understand,”
“Dumbledore may have something to say about that,” Aurora grumbled.
“There is such a thing as Chaos Theory my dear. Even he can’t control every avenue, and I think Harry will slip the leash soon,” David chuckled. Severus smirked at the idea of the universe smacking Albus in the face via Harry Potter. It died as he remembered how his own school years went; Dumbledore was too entrenched for Harry Potter to unseat him.
The effects of the all-night celebration meant that almost all the school was completely non-compos mentis when daylight hit. In fact, the first of the all-nighters would not show his face until 1pm and would spend his time practicing quidditch drills with grim determination. He completely missed the three boys that either left early or did not show up at all to the party out on the lawn having a picnic.
“I still can’t believe you stabbed yourself with a basilisk fang,” Blaise repeated, “You almost died again,”
Harry’s lips thinned, “I figured I had nothing left to lose. Besides, can you imagine the looks on everyone’s face when they find out,”
Theo chuckled as he essayed a lingonberry tart, “The Potters would be appalled. ‘How dare you go off script.’,” then he frowned, “I can’t believe they left it in. Aren’t they supposed to be Light?”
“I wonder,” Harry said, then he looked over, “Say is that Oliver Wood?” he asked changing the subject as he spotted the broom flyer.
“Whether rain or snow or an all night celebration or snake attacks, he will practice Quidditch,” Blaise chuckled, “If only others were that dedicated,”
“Bet everyone else is still asleep,” Theo sprawled on the blanket with the remains of a nice picnic lunch, having consumed the entire tart.
“Partying all night with lots of sugar? Yah, think?” Blaise Zabini rummaged for an éclair.
“I missed it, entirely,” Harry commented sourly, “I thought I would be like Banquo’s ghost at the feast if I went,”
Theo laughed, “Talking about quoting the play in Scotland. Well, you’re probably right. So, will you tell us what happened in the Chamber? I don’t quite believe Alex Potter saved the day,”
Harry shook his head, “This goes no further than the three of us. But little Lexie ran into a wall in panic and spent most of the adventure unconscious. He then stunned me after rejoining conscious life and claimed credit before I could get a word out,”
“They probably wouldn’t believe you anyway,” Blaise stated.
“They never did,” Harry retorted as he found a breadstick and started munching.
“Well, this is one year, I’m looking forward to going home. My father is taking me to Finland and then to the Baltics,” Theo said.
“Mother and I are going to Italy for family,” Blaise put in his plans.
“I wish I could go with you. The Manor is going to be bloody awful,” Harry commented.
It went without saying that Harry would never get to travel with the pair of Slytherins. In part, it was the prejudice against them by the Potters and other Gryffindors. The second part, was how Harry was regarded in the Manor. Any happiness was taken from him by any member of his blood family if he was caught in that state. Even his youngest sibling, Edmund had gotten into the act. Alex boasted whenever Harry was in earshot about his trip to Ibiza. Harry knew he was not invited and to make matters worse; his shifu and Aunt were going to be outside the country, so he was stuck here.
Everyone was going to travel but him. He was going to be stuck at the Manor with house elves that hated him and those blighters could make people miserable. Pity he couldn’t go traveling himself, but it would be impossible to leave the country without a passport whether magical or vernaculi. Without his parents’ permission, he could not leave Britain though if he wished to travel there were at least plenty to see without leaving the country on the vernaculi side. Wait if? If he wished to travel?
Harry had an idea; a brilliant idea, He had a brilliant, wonderful, awful idea. He had money from gifts, wages, and even a few contests. Why not travel on his own? What did he have to lose. Besides he deserved a good summer for all these others put him through. Blaise and Theo pretended not to see the emotions flit across Harry’s face. Instead, they chatted about how likely it was he failed Transfiguration and cursed out McGonagall together happily. The amount of languages the trio knew altogether allowed them to while away an excellent afternoon as the school barely put themselves to rights after a riotous party.