Fire. Pain. Anger. This was the strangest afterlife I'd ever experienced, though it wasn't a high bar to reach considering this was the first time I'd died. I could hear what sounded like claws on stone, but I didn't need to pay attention to that—I was dead.
Pain exploded, and instantly I felt anger rise. I got angry about that pain, angry about all the pain. Opening my eyes, there was blue-purple flame dancing on a black tube that stretched out in front of me. Fawkes, heedless of the flame, jumped up on the tube and screeched at me.
New pain spread in my arm, though I couldn't tell what it was. All the pain blended into one big mass that fed my anger. Then my memory started to pull back events from the recent past, and one name stilled my anger to fear. "Ginny?"
The flickering flames faded with my anger. I shot upright and started looking around—then fell over. Anger returned, and with it flames. Everything looked like it should be burning. My memory supplied the last thing I'd seen before I passed out: everything had been burning.
Phoenix-fire should only affect a phoenix. Even the perch they're standing on won't burn up when a phoenix oxidizes themselves rapidly.
Flames and fire had burned everything in the room. They had danced over the water, licked the snake statues, and even wrapped the crystals in their warm embrace. "I burned everything?"
—You tried to, Harry Potter.— The voice of the basilisk sounded different, strange. —I took refuge in the water, your bird took refuge in the flames themselves, and that thing will not be burned.—
My head snapped around to see the basilisk. Missing its eyes still, it stared back at me sightlessly. A lick of anger came. "You bit me."
—You had his magic clinging to you. You stank of it, and even had it within you.— The basilisk's tongue lanced out, flicked in the air, then returned. —But not now.—
"You can understand me? I thought I needed to speak parseltongue for you to hear me?" I asked. "And who are you talking about? Tom?"
—I am no mere snake, and the one you call Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, had touched you deeply with magic. It was wound through your soul, but it's gone now.—
Boys everywhere knew the sound effect of a bomb dropping, but this was the first time I'd heard it in parseltongue. I must have sat there in a daze, my thoughts racing but unable to grab any and use them.
—I owe you a debt, Harry Potter. I overreacted and almost cost you your life.— The basilisk had my attention. Tom Riddle was Voldemort. I looked into the ruined face of the serpent. —I pledge myself to your service, Harry Potter, until I have saved your life.—
"What's your name?" I asked.
Tom Riddle was Voldemort.
—Salazar Slytherin stole my name. He wrought it into his prophecy and bound me to serve the heir of house Slytherin. He took it, and now I cannot get it back.—
Tom Riddle was—
Ginny!
I shoved all the thoughts and problems aside for a moment—pushed them into a postal box in my head that was titled later. "Where's Ginny?" I asked.
—The girl that turned beast? The monster within that form is gone.—
My memory of the event came back, of Tom Riddle Voldemort doing something at the last minute. The spell he'd performed wasn't a spell at all. I racked my brain trying to put it together.
—I have not seen legilimency used in that manner before, Harry Potter. I know not exactly what the specter of Voldemort begat, but I know the outcome.— The basilisk shifted its weight and turned its head around to look at something on the ground. —Follow.—
Slithering forward, I tried to stand up—only to fall down. Panic set in as my brain recognized several things that not just moved wrong, but one part that shouldn't have existed at all. I looked at my arms, and realized they were the tubes I'd seen before. The burning tubes.
Dark brown, what my arms had become denied belief. Other little things intruded on my thoughts. I could feel my legs—what seemed to be my back legs—bend in different ways than any human leg had, and I could wag my tail. "What am I?"
—You are Harry Potter. What the magic of this chamber has done to you I cannot fathom. You walk on four legs now, you look like a horse, but you bear my scales and the phoenix's fire. Your wand sits proud on your forehead. What are you, Harry Potter?—
Movement from the corner of my eye drew my attention. I looked into one of the crystal clusters. They had all grown and were bright colors now. Magic pulsed within them, but it was their simplest of properties I wanted.
I saw a reflection of myself.
The basilisk hadn't lied. I looked a lot like Ginny had before—before King Sombra had taken her over. Unlike Ginny, I sported a forked horn that curved its way from my forehead and had a double-chevron of red on the front of it. Brown fur covered me from the tip of my nose and all the way down the tail behind me, but along my belly was soft cream fur. A mane—like that of a lion—framed my head in blood-red curly hair.
But the basilisk had spoken true. I wore scales along the upper side of my snout and running all the way over my head and down my back—basilisk scales. The underside of my tail, too, had matching blood-red hair, as well as a little tuft at the back of each of my knees—or whatever they were called on horses.
Horse?
No, I wasn't a horse. I was short, for a start, but as well I'd never seen a horse look like I looked.
I glanced down at one arm—foreleg—and examined the split-toed hoof-thing. They'd have to do for now. I could always ask Dumbledore for help undoing this transformation.
"I guess I'm some kind of pony. Where's Ginny?" I asked.
—Right here.— The basilisk looked down at a book—a book that had survived the phoenix-fire. Tom Riddle Voldemort's diary.
"Of course it's over there. Not like I'm not getting used to walking on four legs or anything. I'll just walk over there as casual as you please." Sarcasm aside, it was easier than I thought it would be. My hooves found plenty of grip on the stone floor, and just walking one leg at a time left me feeling more stable than walking as a human ever had.
Bile rose in my throat as I looked down at the haunted diary.
—The one you seek is within.—
"Hold on. Are you saying Ginny is in the book?" I asked.
—I speak true, Harry Potter. Ginevra Molly Weasley is within the horcrux now, not a shard of Voldemort's soul.— The basilisk turned its head toward me. A chill ran down my spine that the creature knew exactly where I was.
I reached one hoof out to prod at the book. It moved, but only as far as I pushed it. My blurry eyesight didn't tell me much, so I leaned down to give it a closer inspection. The blank cover and brass corner protectors confirmed that it was the diary, even if it surviving being incinerated didn't.
When I flipped the diary over with my hoof, I gasped.
"We have to get her out." I turned my head to look at the basilisk. Somehow, it seemed less somehow—smaller. Focus, Harry. "How do I get Ginny free of the diary?"
—This is a simple thing, Harry Potter. Destroy the horcrux and you destroy her. A single bite and my venom will free her to the afterlife.—
Worry and panic hit like a hammer. The world focused down to several tiny facts. "Wait. Are you saying she can't be freed except by killing her?"
—The horcrux is a repository for souls, Harry Potter. If the soul has nowhere else to go, it will move on.— The basilisk seemed to stir and shift about, all the while reducing in size. —What is happening?—
"So now you suddenly don't know something? I don't know either. Could it be that this chamber that turned me into a horse is doing something to you? At least you'll be easier to feed if you're smaller." I turned my attention away from the basilisk and back to Ginny's diary.
Using the split in my hoof, I caught the edge of the diary and lifted it into the air. Sopping wet—just like when I'd found it after Myrtle's little tantrum in the bathroom—the diary's pages were completely dry and protected. Magic.
Holding the diary in one hoof, however, revealed the biggest problem of this form. I imagined trying to walk with one hoof lifted, and it was quickly obvious that it wouldn't work. Back left forward, back right forward, front left forward—fall down.
The answer to my problem was both simple and impossible: Wingardium Leviosa. Magic solved every problem, or so Hermione would want me to believe. I was of the opinion that while magic was great, trying mundane methods first was always better. The impossible part of the situation was I had no wand. No wand means no magic.
But wait, Harry. Something important was said a few minutes ago. Well, thank you brain. A lot of things were said a few minutes ago. If only I had my wand. "Hold on. What did you say about my wand before?"
—It is gone. Destroyed in your fire. It is now part of you, Harry Potter. Your horn.—
The sibilant words sounded odd, and caused me to turn to look at the basilisk. It looked softer, its coils still looking scaled, but little twirls of vibrant color threaded around it here and there. I looked up its body toward the basilisk's head—or what had been the basilisk's head.
The transition from snake to horse was subtle, but fur was the obvious indication. Where its neck had been was now the midsection of a—a pony. Dainty little legs were held up and pulled against it, but just forelegs. The pony—basilisk—had an equine neck and head, and it was the latter that glared back at me with eyes that shimmered yellow.
—What have you done to me, Harry Potter? I was beautiful, but now you have remade me into this?— The basilisk's eyes were beautiful, entrancing. I could feel myself sinking into them in a way no magic had affected me before in my life.
"Stop," I said. "Please stop."
—Curious,— was all the basilisk said before it closed its eyes. —Most curious.—
I stood, staring, unable to think fully. Slowly—very slowly—my mind returned to my own. Suddenly gasping like a man who had been drowning, I shook my head as if to free it of the last remnants of the basilisk's magic. "What did you do to me?!"
—I do not know. It is curious.—
"It was like looking into your eyes was some kind of hypnosis. Was that it?" I asked.
—Possibly. Few have looked into my eyes and lived, Harry Potter. You are the third.— The basilisk sounded sure of itself again. —Are they pretty?—
"Beautiful." The word slipped out before I realized it. "Enough of that. You said you'd help me. I need some way to cast, and you said my horn was my wand. Can I use it to do magic?"
—You can or you can't, Harry Potter. I speak only of things I know.—
"Great. Okay. So if I assume I can do magic with it, let's try something simple." I tilted my head forward and focused on the spell. "Hold on, do I need to twist my whole head? Oh what the heck. Loo-mos!"
The feel of magic flowing to my horn was unique. All the times I'd felt magic moving in the past, it had been through my arm and into my wand. I still felt that same magic moving sensation as power traveled through my body to my horn, but in that new extremity I felt magic actually perform the charm and my will.
—You are a very adaptable wizard, Harry Potter.—
The tone of the basilisk surprised me—it still sounded snake-like, but there was a hint of pride. As I turned to look at the basilisk, I noticed it closed its eyes before ours met. I couldn't help grinning. "I didn't even have to do the gesture. This is great. Okay, next one." I turned back to the diary and aimed my horn at it, or so I hoped. "Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!"
I had to tilt my head back up to see the effect, but by the feel of the magic that had flowed through me and my horn, it had worked. Sure enough, the diary floated in the air before me. "Did you see tha—" The basilisk hadn't closed her beautiful, pretty eyes quickly enough. It took me a moment to shake free of her gaze despite her having closed them quickly.
"We need to work on that. Can you—I don't know—not keep mesmerizing me?" I asked. Turning around slowly, I looked back toward the entrance and then began walking toward the ladder.
—Harry Potter should learn to not be entranced.— The basilisk slithered along at my side, but slightly behind me.
I reached the ladder and stared upward. "You said you don't have a name?" I put one hoof to a rung on the ladder, but was suddenly attacked.
The basilisk wrapped around me with long coils, squeezing and gripping me tight. —Don't struggle, Harry Potter.— As fast as it had bound me, the basilisk shot upward and used its long body to carry me with it.
Taking roughly two seconds, I'd barely had time to feel worry let alone panic before I was back on my hooves outside the door to the Chamber of Secrets. "Th-Thank you."
—I swore myself to you, Harry Potter. Serving you is my honor, but if it pleases you to name me it would be ample compensation.—
It was odd having a conversation with someone while deliberately not looking at them. "Balthazar." An angry hiss followed my words. "What's wrong with Balthazar?"
—It's a name for a human and a man.—
I stopped. "You're a woma—a female basilisk?" I asked.
—I was. Whatever I am now is still female.—
"Two good points. Something reptilian, but female. What about Noodle?" I asked.
—Perhaps I should test my venom on Harry Potter?—
"Point taken." I started walking again. "I'd call you Lamia, but that has some connotations we don't want. What about Addera?" I had a moment to realize she was moving before the basilisk was before me, her eyes closed but the tip of her equine snout almost touching my own.
—So mote it be. I am Addera, and I am at your service, Harry Potter.— Her tongue flicked out at the end of her words and tickled across my nose. Her emotions were not easy to read before, but I think I could see amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Thank you, Addera." There were moments in my life where I wondered how in magic I'd gotten to a particular position. Arriving at Hogwarts for the first time was one of them, when I'd first spoken to a snake was another, but hearing devotion in Addera's words was now the latest one. "Let's keep going, Ron is likely panicking."
—Ron? You have a companion apart from that phoenix?— Addera shifted to the side, her eyes closed yet somehow able to move without bumping into the wall behind her.
"Well, two. Ron Weasley, Ginny's brother, came down with me, but he and Gilderoy are stuck behind a cave-in." The cave-in which I could barely see ahead of us. Since I was young, everything past about arm's length in front of me has been a blur, and now—without my glasses—that was all I saw.
A screech from behind me made me turn just in time to see Fawkes diving toward Addera. "Fawkes! No! She's on our side!"
—No. Come here little bird.— Addera's hissing voice had an edge of steel in it.
I turned to look at Addera but glanced away before I made eye contact. Fawkes was not so lucky. Staring into Addera's eyes, the phoenix landed beside her. "Don't eat Fawkes."
—Don't be silly, Harry Potter. A phoenix would give terrible indigestion.— Addera turned herself a little so I was looking at the back of her head. —Little phoenix. We are not enemies. I serve Harry Potter. An attack upon me is an attack upon him.—
"I don't think Fawkes understands parseltongue," I said.
—I don't care. The bird knows I can best it now. We are even.— Addera turned away from Fawkes and slithered toward the cave-in.
"Uh. Fawkes?" For the first time since my transformation I realized how much smaller I was. Fawkes was a big bird, had been about as long from tail to beak as my arm, but now I could look him in the eyes. "Fawkes? Addera, how long will he be like this?"
—How long were you? The bird is a phoenix, they're immortal. Come, Harry Potter.—
"Stop, Addera. You can't do this to people." As I spoke, Fawkes suddenly burst into fire. Flames licked up and around the phoenix, consumed him, and tumbled his ashes into a pile. "Fawkes?"
With an annoyed screech. Fawkes pulled himself out of the burnt remains of his former self and glared at Addera.
"Both of you. Just—Just stop this!"
Addera, her eyes closed, seemed to look right at me. —As you wish, Master.— The way she spoke held sadness, pain.
It hit me a moment after she spoke what had happened. I'd given her a command, like she were a house elf. "Not everything I say is an order, Addera. But,"—my mind raced to come up with the right thing to say—"can I give you one command, a true order?"
—I pledged myself to you, Harry Potter. Until I defend your life, my life is yours.—
"Addera. Do as you see fit in all things, and ignore all other orders." I almost wanted to see her eyes just to get a good read on how she felt. When she bowed her head forward, smiling, I knew I'd done something right for once. "Now. Can I ask you to please not hypnotize my friends?"
—I will do as I see fit, Harry Potter.—
Blurry as her face was, I could see her smile still persisted. Great, I'd managed to make the ancient snake-pony happy. Hooray. "So let's get out of here." A shiver ran through me from snout to tail, and strange as having those parts to shiver was, I felt more than a little cautious.
—I don't need to see to be able to tell this cave is unstable, Harry Potter. Be ready to move very quickly, should the need arise.— Aderra's scales made soft, swishing sounds on the stone floor in counterpoint to the soft clopping of my hooves.
"Harry? Harry is that you?" Ron's voice was unmistakable. Of course, he was stuck on the other side of the cave-in.
No, that was completely wrong. By definition Addera, Fawkes, and I were on the stuck side of all the rocks. "Yeah. It's me, Ron. I don't suppose you worked out a way to get past all this?"
"You remember who has the broken wand, right Harry?"
Broken wand? Broken wand?! I wanted to yell at Ron that he might have a broken wand, but mine incinerated and became part of me. I felt my anger start to flare hot. I'd done it. I'd rescued Ginny, I'd defeated Voldemort (it still counts if he's a ghost) again, and I'd even made friends with—and named—a basilisk. After all these facts fed my anger, I remembered the key one—I might have accidentally let a monster capable of defeating Voldemort's ghost free. "I'm coming, Ron." There was no friendship in my voice, only fury.
—Harry Potter.—
I ignored the voice, barely paid it any mind. "Re-doo-see-oh!" One of the huge boulders shrank to the size of a pebble. "Re-doo-see-oh! Re-doo-see-oh!" Again and again I aimed my horn and blasted boulders into tiny shapes. My anger was like fuel, and my target was just ahead! "Re-doo-see-oh!"
—Harry Potter. Stop.—
Addera's voice had notes of fear underpinning her sibilant hisses. I turned to look at her and stared deep into her eyes. "What?!" I demanded.
—This rage is useful, Harry Potter, but do not target your friend with it. Get angry at the rocks for being in your way.—
She was right. As angry as I was at Ron, I was more upset with the world in general. Well, Addera was right. Let's use that. Gritting my teeth, I swung my attention back to the rocks and pointed my horn at them. "Get back from the rocks, Ron!"
There wasn't a single spell I could think of that would do what I wanted, so I instead focused all my rage into being and shoved it out through my horn. Rolling my eyes upward, I could see a beam of teal and purple fire lance outward from me. Stones and boulders were naught but tissue paper before my anger.
More rocks fell down from above, but I simply didn't care—they too got blasted. I was so into blasting the rocks that I didn't notice my legs start to wobble until one foreleg's knee folded.
I hated the ground even more than the rocks, particularly when it jumped up and punched me. But, though I wanted to blast the floor, I was all out of magic. "Stupid floor."
—You did it, Harry Potter. Your friend approaches,— Addera said.
Tilting my head, I looked up and saw a blurry Ron Weasley approaching, picking his way between smoking—and in some case still glowing hot—rocks. When he got closer, I could see his shoes had started smoldering. "Hi, Ron." It was lame as greetings went, but I'd just blown up tonnes of rocks.
"Harry?!" Ron crouched down, again showing me just how small I was (laying down like I was, I didn't come up to his knees). "Is that really you? And why is this book floating here?"
"It's me, Ron. Can you help me up?" My everything was achy, but especially my horn—it felt like I'd dipped it in acid, then a stronger acid.
It was a sign of how good a friend Ron was that he didn't ask more questions (that or it was a sign of how crazy our lives had become) when he just picked me up. "Harry, why are you a colorful little unicorn, and why is there a colorful snake-horse with you? And one other thing, why is it carrying Fawkes?" He paused a moment. "And where's Ginny?"
"We need to go see Dumbledore. This is really crazy, and I don't know as I could explain it fully twice. Ginny is—" I stopped and looked at the diary that floated—obedient to the charm I'd placed on it—beside me. "Ginny is alive, Ron. We need to see Dumbledore."
I heard Addera's movement before I saw her blurry shape slither past Ron. She seemed to navigate the hot stones without trouble. —Is this your friend, Harry Potter?— she asked.
Unable to see Addera, I turned to look up at Ron. "Is she standing by Gilderoy?" I asked.
"She? Uh…" Ron turned around, still carrying me. "Yeah. She has her eyes closed. What's she going to do to him?"
"Look away from her, Ron. No, Addera. But you probably shouldn't mess with him. He obliviated himself." As I spoke, I closed my eyes.
—Because you venerated him, Harry Potter, I carry no ill-will toward this phoenix, but I will not carry him all the way back. Order this one to carry him. He will follow your commands.— Addera sounded satisfied, deeply satisfied. —It seems your friend didn't look away, Harry Potter.—
"Ron?" I asked. "Ron! Why'd you look?"
"Her eyes are so beautiful. I want to look at them all day long." Ron's tone made him sound like he was miles away—mentally. "What should I do?"
"I can't believe this. It's like some kind of cartoon. Okay, Ron, carry me back to Hogwarts. Gilderoy? Gilderoy, carry Fawkes—the phoenix—and follow Ron." It was stupid, messed up, and working. Ron smiled and started heading back out of the room.
It wasn't far before we reached the convergence of pipes—one of which led to the entrance to the chamber. "Okay, Ron, stop here. Addera, can you carry us up the pipes?"
—For you, Harry Potter, I could. For these others…— Trailing off was hard to do in parseltongue. It was a complex language of tone involving almost entirely sibilant sounds, but Addera pulled it off perfectly. —They're too big.—
"Ron, put me down." A moment after I said the command I realized my error.
Ron Weasley held me out in his arms—about three times my height—and let go.
The drop, as it turned out, didn't trouble my new body one bit. I landed solidly on all fours and turned around to glare at Ron Weasley. "You know, I was actually going to feel bad about this. But after that, I don't think I will." Tilting my head forward, I lined up my horn with his chest. "Re-doo-see-oh!"
As I felt the rush of magic through my horn, I watched a purple light flash, and Ron started to get shorter. And shorter. And tiny! I was getting good mileage out of size-changing spells in tight quarters, and I wasn't one to give up at just one casting. "Re-doo-see-oh!" I aimed at Gilderoy, and in moments he too was no taller than three-quarters of the way up my leg.
—You are a clever one, Harry Potter. Very well. As I promised.— Addera moved faster than lightning. She coiled me up first, then Fawkes, then spared one coil to grab Gilderoy and Ron. With her cargo (us!) secured, Addera let out a hissing cackle and charged into a pipe. Despite all the confusion, I was sure this wasn't the pipe we'd come down.
The pipe split apart and got narrower, but thanks to her and my reduced size (to say nothing of Ron and Gilderoy), Addera made quick time in darker and darker tunnels. Two little lines of light ahead drew closer, until Addera stopped and pushed upward with her hooves. —This form is not as useless as I thought. Come, Harry Potter. Time to meet destiny.—
Silently as only a snake can move, Addera lifted herself out of the drain and deposited me on my hooves in a different lavatory to Myrtle's. I could tell because there wasn't a Myrtle here complaining about something, or being creepy about something else.
"I still can't see very well. This is a bathroom?" I asked.
—This is the faculty bathroom, Harry Potter. There are footsteps coming this way, soft and wary.— Before I could hope to react to what she'd said, Addera slithered around and put herself between me and what I thought was the doorway.
The door opened and a slim man, silhouetted by light, froze in the doorway. "Great. Just when Hagrid is off on some useless excursion, someone lets a bunch of animals inside. Begone!"
I could see his wand coming out, raising, and his lips parted. "Wait! Professor Snape!" I jumped around Addera's form and looked up at Snape's face. "It's me, Harry Potter, sir!"
His wand was still out, still raised, but even halfway across the bathroom I could see he look confused for nearly five seconds. "Only you, Mister Potter, could think to turn yourself into some kind of livestock on this night."
"But I did it! I stopped the ghost of V—of Tom Riddle! He kidnapped Ginny, and I found them, and then—" I stopped when the tip of Snape's wand tracked toward me. Professor Snape was full of subtle hints, usually backed by awkward and itchy spells. "Sorry, sir."
"Sorry indeed." Snape turned and started walking out. "Follow me, Mister Potter. Since you seem to be somehow mixed up in all this, I imagine you might as well be brought to the middle of this muddle." If he knew how silly the combination of words was, Snape didn't show it.
"What's happened, sir?" I asked.
"We're lost, Mister Potter."
Lost. Right. We were right outside Professor Dumbledore's office. I was about to ask him how we were lost when we knew where we were, when he opened the door and led the way inside. Dumbledore and McGonagall were already inside, and their heads snapped around at the sound of my hooves. I couldn't make out their expressions, but surprise was my best guess.
"I found Mister Potter and his friends skulking about outside. The mind simply boggles as to what possessed them to transform themselves to look like this." As he spoke, Snape made an expansive gesture toward Addera and me.
A hint of anger started to bubble inside, and I just wanted to—
—Calm yourself, Harry Potter. Getting angry at these wizards will not help you,— Addera said.
Her words helped me cut through the intense emotion. I cleared my throat, counted to five, and prepared to explain myself.
"Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "Harry, is that you? What happened? Where's Ron? Ginny?"
"Addera has Ron, and Gilderoy Lockhart." As I spoke, I watched Addera uncurl herself and set miniature Ron and Gilderoy on the floor at Dumbledore's feet. When she added Fawkes, I heard Dumbledore gasp. "They're all okay. Except Lockhart. He obliviated himself."
Three raised eyebrows met my words. This is it, Harry Potter, time to explain what you've been up to. So I told my story. Everything—including King Sombra. I had to make expansive gestures, they felt natural, as I described my fight with Addera, with Tom Riddle, and finally the rush to get free. "…And that's how we ended up in the bathroom, sir."
"That explains why your companion keeps her eyes shut, at least. Well, let's take a look at you and see about undoing this. Minerva, I believe your expertise would put you at the advantage here." Dumbledore turned to Minerva and made room for the Deputy Headmistress.
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor approached me, looking huge—my eye level was just above her knees. "When I taught you transfiguration magic, I honestly didn't expect you to go quite so far with it. This is not an expression of animagi, that I can tell right away. You said magic crystals in the Chamber of Secrets did this?"
"Y-Yes, Professor McGonagall," I said.
"This is certainly no magic I've ever seen before. Perhaps it is related to our other problem?" McGonagall turned to look at Dumbledore with an eyebrow arched high.
—They are ignoring me, Harry Potter. Perhaps I should bite one to get their attention?— Addera sounded annoyed, and I could understand her reasoning. Three wizards immediately turned to look at Addera as if she had suddenly appeared. —That's much better.—
"It speaks parseltongue?" Snape asked.
I managed to move before Addera reacted. Jumping on her back, I wrapped my forehooves around her face and covered her eyes as they opened. "Professor Snape is really clever, Addera. We need his help."
"'Addera'?" Dumbledore walked over and crouched down before Addera. Both of them seemed to ignore that I was hanging off her back still. "You were the basilisk Salazar Slytherin set to guard the school. Harry, could you translate for me?"
—Slytherin stole my name and bound me to the Chamber of Secrets. Only by the acts of Harry Potter have I been freed of my enslavement,— Addera said.
I could feel her eyes wide open. Struggling to hold on and stop Addera from mesmerizing Dumbledore, I tried to translate what she said for him. "She said—"
Dumbledore smiled tolerantly, the benevolent smile of a teacher and mentor crinkling his cheeks. "I can understand her, Harry, I just need you to—Wait. You understand English, Addera?"
—A true scholar. I shouldn't expect less from the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Lesser reptiles may be bound to only understanding parseltongue, but I am no lesser reptile.— Addera's eyes narrowed against the undersides of my hooves. —What house are you from?— The words were chilling with their intensity.
"Gryffindor, my dear. You have nothing to fear here." Dumbledore's tone was warm, just as comforting and tolerant as he'd ever been with me. "Can Harry take his hands—hooves—away now?"
I felt as Addera slowly closed her eyes, then after a moment to be sure she wasn't just blinking, removed my hooves. A sigh of relief left me as she didn't bend the wills of everyone in the room to her will. Yay. Small steps.
—You were able to cure those who enjoyed my gaze before the crystals changed me?—
"They are recovering. You did that on purpose?" Dumbledore asked.
—The heir of Slytherin was not careful in his orders. I had to follow them, but he assumed my gaze would kill and commanded me simply to look at my victims.— Addera shifted her weight, shoving me off her back. In truth, I'd been too surprised at the events unfolding to do it myself.
A screech cut through the quiet of the room. Flames billowed out from Addera's tail (which she quickly unwound) to reveal Fawkes looking annoyed. Launching himself into the air, the phoenix circled the room before landing on Dumbledore's outstretched arm.
"Welcome back, my friend. We heard of your adventure." As he spoke, Dumbledore reached his opposite hand up and started scratching under Fawkes' chin. At a particularly indignant squawk from Fawkes, Dumbledore chuckled. "She is a curious one. But, I think you are even now."
Not for the first time did I wonder if Dumbledore could understand Fawkes. Fawkes squawked at him again and then flapped his way to a perch on the other side of the room from Addera. I didn't blame him, but right now I felt safer close to her—mostly because it meant I could protect people from her.
"Given the timing of all this, I can't help but feel the situation in the Chamber of Secrets and our displacement are connected." Snape seemed determined to rally the conversation onto some kind of track. I still had no idea what three of the smartest and most powerful wizards I knew were discussing at midnight.
"Displacement?" I asked.
"He speaks. So glad of you to make it to the conversation, Mister Potter." As always, Snape put a special angle on his tone as he spoke my name, like it was a curse. "Displacement. Noun. To move something from its natural environment—Among many other definitions. Hogwarts was moved, Mister Potter."
He did it on purpose. I couldn't think of any other reason why Snape would always make statements that only asked more questions than they answered. What had moved Hogwarts? Where had it moved to? How much of it had moved? How soon could we move back? My mind buzzed with questions.
A fizzling-crackling sound saved me from reflexively asking any of these questions. My reducio had worn off (I certainly hadn't had the inclination to make it permanent when I cast it)—both Ron and Gilderoy were growing again.
"Reducio to make them small enough to carry?" McGonagall was hard to read at times, and at others she was almost impossible to. She could praise or berate with that same even tone and tight expression. "Five points to Gryffindor."
"This is hardly the time to be worrying about house points," Snape said.
"On the contrary, Severus. This is a perfect time for it. Wherever we are, our students will need to be kept busy while help arrives." Dumbledore crouched down to examine Gilderoy, delivering several spells to him without wand or word. He tilted his head toward me. "You said, Harry, that he obliviated himself with a broken and unfamiliar wand?"
"Right. He confessed that he's been living off other peoples' fame, and then obliviating them so they forgot they did it. Is that legal?" I was sure it wasn't, but the laws of wizardkind hadn't been my strongest point in the past.
"It is not, but we only have your word that he confessed. The only way to prove your statement—and I assure you, Mister Potter, I would enjoy nothing more than seeing Gilderoy Lockhart revealed as more than just incompetent with damaged wands—is to find others who were affected by his obliviate," Snape said.
"Does it matter?" Gesturing at the mesmerized Gilderoy, McGonagall looked completely dismissive. "Neither Harry nor Ron had a hand," the corners of her mouth tilted up, "or hoof, in the memory charm on him, there was no crime committed. Given the extent of the backfire, would you say, Severus, that he has any chance of recovering?"
Snape walked up to the comatose Gilderoy and murmured a few things under his breath. I couldn't see if he made any gestures, but he seemed to be doing something. At last he stepped back and assumed his usual upright and snooty pose. "The charm has all the hallmarks of an expert caster. There are legends about the removal of memory charms, but none of them mention the subject still being sane by the end of it."
I gulped at the picture Snape painted. Memory charms, I realized, were serious magic. If Gilderoy had used it on Ron and I as he intended, we'd be nothing more than drooling simpletons—forever. The realization stole all the schadenfreude from the situation.
"Then it sounds like Gilderoy was hoist with his own petard. A most fitting end for—allegedly—a despicable little man." McGonagall's tone was unambiguous for once, she greatly disliked Gilderoy it seemed.
"What happened?" Ron Weasley asked.
"And, the other one awakens. I must commend you, Mister Potter, on finding a most useful pet. At least, any pet that keeps a Weasley quiet for more than a minute is useful in my mind," Snape said.
Addera lashed her tail (now it was free of miniature mind-controlled humans and phoenixes) and turned to me. —I want to look at him, Harry Potter. He sounds like a Slytherin.—
"He is a Slytherin—the head of Slytherin House," I said.
—Now I want to look at him and bite him. What do you think he tastes like, Harry Potter?—
"Now-now." Dumbledore, I could see, was having trouble holding back a smile. "We need to focus on this problem. To keep the students calm I've erected a concealment charm facing inwards, and to stop any incidents should a muggle see the school, I mirrored it facing outward.
"This is serious magic, Harry. Please don't press it to act. Should you find yourself outside the barrier, you will not find your way back inside."
Ron finally seemed to have enough. "Look, I think I've been a good sport about this, but I have no clue what you're all talking about. The last thing I remember is Harry turning into a horse with a floating book, and—"
My blood ran cold. "Ginny!" I turned and looked around, but the book was nowhere to be seen, until Addera passed me the diary, a smug look on her equine face.
—You need to work on your charm duration, Harry Potter.—
Dumbledore moved quickly, striding up to me and taking the book from my hand. "This is dark magic, Harry. This—" He stopped as he actually looked at the diary. "Harry, explain what you saw again."
"W-When, sir?" I asked.
"When you fought Tom and this king," Dumbledore said.
I tried to think back to what had happened, focusing on the event. "He—King Sombra—sounded benevolent about it, like he was sparing me only because I'd helped him. I didn't mean to, but the choice was—"
"It's alright, Harry. Keep going."
"Then Tom, when the King was doing something to him, did something that grabbed Ginny and threw her—threw her out of her body!" The revelation of my own memories surprised me. I blinked and tried to peer closer at the diary, which was blurry because I'd managed to incinerate my glasses. "Is she in the diary, Sir?"
"That's what we need to find out. Severus?" Dumbledore held the diary out toward Snape.
—No,— Addera said, and moved fast. Before Snape could so much as react, and before Dumbledore could evade, she'd slivered across the floor, grabbed the book, and returned to my side. She wasn't just fast, she was predator-fast.
"I assure you, Miss, that we mean it no harm." Dumbledore held his hands wide, the classic pose of someone trying to show they have nothing offensive. He was a wizard who could cast without wand or word, so it was a lie.
Ron stepped up beside Addera and reached out for the diary. "I can find out if Ginny is in there. Harry, you said you could talk to Tom inside it, how did you do that?"
—You trust this friend, Harry Potter?— Addera asked.
"Yes, Addera, I trust Ron," I said to Addera, then I turned to Ron. "You write in it. When Tom Riddle was in there, he could rearrange the writing to answer questions."
"Bloody perfect!" Ron said as Addera passed him the diary. "Professor Dumbledore, can I please borrow some ink and a quill?"
Writing implements were obtained quickly and Ron was given somewhere to write. Charging a quill with ink, he started writing.
Ginny? Are you in there?
Yes.
Ron almost bounced in his seat. "She says—"
"Ask her something, Ronald Weasley, that only you and your sister would know," Snape said, his voice riding the edge between boredom and command.
"R-Right! Uh…"
Ginny, I need to ask you something personal, that only you would know.
There was no reply, which was a reply in itself.
Ginny, when I was little, what did Fred and George do to my stuffed toy?
It was hard to read his writing, and not just because he was reasonably terrible at writing legibly. Glasses were shooting higher and higher on the list of things to fix.
What you fear the most. They turned your teddy bear into a huge spider.
"It's Ginny. There's nine people what know that, and she's one of them. Dad made 'em all swear not to tell anyone else about it." By the way Ron was spilling the beans, I could tell he was just happy the confirmation was a success.
What happened to my body?
The question appeared without the application of a quill. It was Ginny asking.
"Y-You should probably tell her, Harry. You know what happened." Ron started to pass me the quill, then stopped. "How are you gonna write?"
I had no clue. The only way I'd managed so far was using the levitation charm, but I needed fine control to hold and use a quill.
"Mister Potter," Snape's tone was already filling me with dread that I'd overlooked something simple. "Use—"
"Harry. Locomotor should do the trick. Several wizards use it to write on blackboards, and I remember one student using it to fill out an entire board during detention." As Dumbledore spoke, he glanced sideways at Snape. There was a story there I was sure I'd love to hear.
Right. Locomotor. I looked at the quill in Ron's hand and focused my mind upon it. Pushing magic down my horn, I began the incantation, "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" As power rushed through me, I felt it as an extension of my body. The quill had floated from Ron's fingers, and as I thought about it, it flicked left and right, then up and down.
"Cor, Harry, that's pretty amazin'." Ron sounded duly impressed. "How're you doing that without moving your wand—uh, head?"
The quill froze and I turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I'm sure being able to do it without gestures was entirely because of your new—ah—wand." As Dumbledore's smile warmed, Snape's expression closed down until I could have sworn he felt no emotion at all. "Go ahead, Harry."
"Right." I turned to the book, floated the quill to the inkwell and charged the tip.
I found you in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle draining you. He sent his serpent after me, but I got the upper hand and confronted him. Then something strange happened. Smoke or something leaked out of the crystals and
I waited for that lot of ink to fade, but as I did some words appeared.
Please, go on, Harry.
the stuff leaked out of the crystals and it sank into you. Then the ghost of Tom Riddle entered you as well, and
While I paused to compose myself, I watched the words fade.
and then Addera offered to help me. She's the serpent. She doesn't like Tom (he's Voldemort, you know?)
The writing faded once more, and again new words started appearing.
I know, Harry. His memories are still in here. What happened next?
I came into your head too, and that's where I met King Sombra. He and Tom were fighting, and I thought he couldn't be worse than Voldemort, so I helped him defeat Tom. I messed that up, and the King stole your body for his own. He was doing something bad to Tom, and Tom shoved you into the book befo—Tom's dead. DEAD dead.
Thank you, Harry.
What for?
For doing whatever you could for me. For saving this much of me, I guess.
I lifted my hoof up and stroked the page as her words faded. She thanked me. Thanked me! I stared at the diary without writing anything more for I don't know how long. Then, at last, I lifted the quill for more ink.
I'll help keep you safe until we get your body back, Ginny.
Thank you, Harry.❤
A love heart? I stared at the ink as the little symbol faded.
"What's it all mean, Headmaster?" Ron asked.
"Ahem!" McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing all our attention, then she looked at Dumbledore. "Albus?"
"As you are both well aware, I was removed from my position as headmaster of the school." Dumbledore's words hit me like a hammer. After everything that'd happened, I'd managed to forget the meeting in Hagrid's cottage before the incident with the spiders. "However, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has permitted me to stay on now that there is an opening."
I stared from Dumbledore to McGonagall, dumbstruck.
"I've given Professor Dumbledore, our new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, some time to move his things from my office. How long do you think it will take, Albus?" McGonagall had set aside all her usual stoic expression and wore the craftiest smile you'd ever see on a witch.
"Thank you, Headmistress. I should have everything moved the moment we're back somewhere safe," Dumbledore said.
"This is acceptable. I must say, it will be a novel experience having someone competent teaching the class again." McGonagall's eyes crinkled up at all the smiling she was doing.
"And," Snape said. "I could add the same for our headmaster. " He gave Dumbledore an impossible to read look, and to my shock Dumbledore smiled back and nodded! "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office trying to establish our Floo Network again. Let me know when you have a suitable story fashioned, so I can keep up my end of it. Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore." With that Snape turned and walked out of Dumbledore's (old) office.
"I honestly don't know why you—" Ron clamped his mouth shut, realizing who he was speaking before and where he was speaking. "Can we go now, S—Ma'am?"
Harry, don't leave me here.
My eyes barely caught the words before they faded. I gulped hard, charged my horn with magic, and said, "Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!" Ginny's book floated off the desk and to my side. Remembering others were present, I turned to look at Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Sorry. I just thought—"
"I can think of no one better to look after her for now, than her brother and his best friend. We do," McGonagall said, "have one more thing to discuss, then I want to see you in my office."
Keen Eyes was a stallion famed in the E.U.P. Guard scout regiment for his vision. It was his special talent that more than made up for his poor magic. His yellow mane was pushed back from his eyes and gathered at his neck with a thick and warm scarf that matched the off-white tone of his fur.
It hadn't snowed for almost a week, which left the ground green with a sea of new grass. It was a beautiful time to visit the cold north of Equestria, but Keen Eyes wasn't visiting. Every day for the last year and a half he'd sat out on the northern side of the stone tower on the northern edge of Equestria—and watched.
"You think it's going to snow?" Flagessio asked. She walked out of the tower door and sat on the parapet beside Keen. Born on an isle on the western edge of the North Luna Ocean, Flagessio's voice had an almost trilling tone to it. She didn't watch the north—she watched Keen Eyes.
Keen took his famed eyes off the mountains to the north long enough to spot the mug Flagessio was passing him. Plucking it up with his magic, he brought the steaming coffee mug to his lips and sipped. "I don't know. Weather pegasi don't come this far north, it's all wild and chaotic weather."
Flagessio smiled a bit wider at the happy sigh her coffee brought forth from Keen's throat. Part of her personal kit had been a cold-press and as much of her favorite coffee from home as she could carry, and combined with her skills in brewing it had made Keen a coffee aficionado. She fluffed her wings to gather more air under them.
A flicker from the corner of her eye made Flagessio jerk her dark-blue face around and look north. Another flicker. "Keen!"
"I see it." Keen dropped the coffee and grabbed up his notepad. Straining his eyes, he fixated on the flickers. Normal eyes—non-magical eyes—wouldn't have seen the pulsing light for the complex interplay of magic that it was. It wasn't random light and it wasn't random magic. "It's happened. Laggie, it happened!"
"I'm going to miss you, Keen." Flagessio set her own mug of coffee on the parapet and loosed her wings on her shoulders. She wasn't a fancy flier, not Flagessio, but what she lacked in maneuverability she more than made up for with speed and, after years of training in the Guard, stamina.
"I'm going to miss you too. You know I can't brew coffee the same." Keen would regret the coffee later, but the joke made Flagessio's imminent departure a little easier to take. While he wrestled with his feelings and spoke, Keen's magic was working overtime scrawling a description of what he saw onto the parchment.
At last, when he had nothing else to write, Keen Eyes rolled the parchment up and touched his magic seal to it—the seal of the Scout Regiment. Anypony who saw it would take the scroll to the Guard, and the Guard would speed it to Princess Celestia herself. Keen hoped that path would never need be taken. "Fly safely, fly swiftly."
Flagessio took the scroll and put it in her saddlebags. Saddlebags she'd worn so long as she was awake for over a year just in case this happened. "I love you, Keen."
Keen Eyes blinked in surprise. "I love you too, Laggie."
Stepping off the side of the tower wall, Flagessio spread her wings and caught the dense, chill air with her feathers. One pump. Two pumps. She had her altitude and began pumping harder—forward. This was her duty, and she had to get word of the Empire's return to Princess Celestia.