Flowers for Aragog
It had been almost two months since Dumbledore had shown Harry the altered horcrux memory, and he hadn’t heard from the man. Dumbledore had given Harry proof of Voldemort's potential immortality, the one magic he coveted above all, acquired in what Harry learned was a singularly difficult and complex manner, culminating in a death. The horcrux could be anything, anywhere, protected by further unknown magics.
Without the prophecy, Harry didn’t think he would believe himself capable of killing Voldemort. He was already at a disadvantage, decades younger, less knowledgeable, less experienced, fewer allies, the trace, his strange connection to Voldemort. But the prophecy said they were both capable of killing each other, and if locating the horcrux was impossible, fulfillment of the prophecy would be as well.
Harry sometimes thought it was foolish to rely so heavily on what a drunk woman had said one evening at the Hog’s Head, but it was what he had.
Theo had reminded Harry that Voldemort had collected trophies, and would be unlikely to put a piece of his soul in something he didn’t value. Dumbledore had shown him two such items: the Peverell ring and Salazar Slytherin’s locket. He had also remembered the diary in second year, which the diary itself had told him was a piece of Voldemort’s memory, ultimately destroyed by a basilisk fang.
The book, Secrets of the Darkest Art, did not have information on multiple horcruxes, but neither did it say it was impossible. It was an absolutely insane thing to think of, much less do, but Voldemort was by no means rational, not anymore. Maybe because of what he had done to his soul. Or his mind, if parts of his own mind became trapped within the horcruxes.
The book indicated as such, the instability caused by ripping the soul. It could be repaired, but only with genuine remorse. The pain of it was excruciating, the book said, and could be fatal. Harry doubted he could guilt Voldemort into fixing his own soul and finishing himself off.
Harry had two months to sit with this information, stuffed in between all the classes and coursework and quidditch. Not to mention having to avoid the Room of Requirement when Malfoy was using it. Harry had looked into the Room of Hidden Things a few times and gave it up as a bad job. Finding something specific in there was an exercise in futility, but Malfoy kept trying. Not knowing what it was made searching for it himself impossible, and following Malfoy in there was tricky. He could lie in wait, but Malfoy went there at irregular times.
“Meow.”
Harry considered Crookshanks, who was winding between his legs. “If I disillusion you, you could follow him around.”
Crookshanks started purring.
“We’ll work on that after classes,” Harry said. He had just finished getting ready and was about to head to breakfast when Dean and Seamus started making a racket, waking Ron up. Harry glanced over and saw with horror the pile of presents on Ron’s bed.
“Happy birthday, Ron,” he said weakly, watching Ron look at his haul with bleary excitement. Harry turned back to his trunk and looked for something he could regift. He unearthed an old box of cauldron cakes. He didn’t remember why he had kept them around, but knew Ron would eat anything and would appreciate it.
“Have a present,” Harry said, chucking it at Ron’s bed.
“Cheers.”
Harry watched him unwrap his presents politely and congratulated Ron on his gifts
“Want one?” Ron garbled through a mouth of chocolate cake.
“No thanks,” Harry said, sitting on his bed, trying to think of something to write to Theo that wasn’t a complaint. Ron stuffed another cauldron cake in.
Harry froze mid-word. The cauldron cakes. From Romilda Vane. He turned around to see Ron add a third one to his mouth, staring longingly through the window at the falling rain.
“Ron? Are you feeling alright?”
Ron sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Harry!”
“Yes?”
“Harry, I can’t stand it!”
“I know you planned it…” Harry covered his mouth. He shouldn’t be making jokes at a time like this. That love potion was months old, he didn’t know what kind of effect it would ultimately have. Nor what would happen if Ron got loose and went after the girl.
“I can’t stop thinking about her!”
“I know, want to go see her?”
Ron’s head swiveled to him, eyes narrowing. “You know her?”
“I do, she’s…in Slughorn’s office.” Harry didn’t have the ingredients on hand to fix this.
“Why is she in there?”
“...Girl problems.”
Ron sat up eagerly. “I’m good at solving problems! I can help!”
“Great, let’s go.”
Harry herded Ron through the common room, making sure he didn’t accidentally spot Romilda Vane. Lavender tried to give her Won-Won a birthday present.
“Leave me alone,” Ron said impatiently. “Harry’s going to introduce me to Romilda Vane.”
“He calls her Rom-Rom,” Harry added, following him through the portrait hole.
Slughorn was not happy to see him, sleepy and still in his dressing gown. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t have the ingredients on hand and I believe the love potion was expired.”
They were waved into the office.
“I can’t see her, is he hiding her?” Ron asked, whipping his head around.
“You have to sit down for half an hour to see her,” Harry said very seriously. “Smarten yourself up.”
Slughorn came over with a glass for Ron and talked him into drinking it. Ron came to his senses, what few there were.
“Sorry about that, Ron,” Harry said. “Hermione warned me about drugged food, I should have checked first. And thank you for helping, professor.”
“Don’t mention it, my boy, a pick me up is what he needs…”
Slughorn came back with glasses of oak-matured mead, from a bottle he had intended to give Dumbledore.
“Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph—”
Harry snorted. Ron tossed his mead back and immediately started dying. He fell on the floor, shaking and foaming at the mouth.
“Shit,” Harry said, “emeto!”
Ron vomited, but that wasn’t good enough. Magical poisons didn’t metabolize the same way muggle poisons did. Wildly hopeful, Harry shouted, “Accio bezoar!”
Slughorn’s office turned into a maelstrom as a bezoar crashed through. Harry caught it in his hand and shoved it into Ron’s mouth, forcing him to swallow. Ron stopped shaking, and was breathing again.
Slughorn stood there, spluttering, still holding the bottle.
Barely sparing the useless man a look, Harry sent a patronus for Madam Pomfrey
“It’s a trend,” Harry said to Theo hours later, glaring at a wall. “A gift intended for someone else, likely a professor, likely Dumbledore. Gryffindor quidditch players disabled.”
Theo stroked his hair soothingly. “If it helps, I think Weasley was accidental. They could not predict you would give him drugged cauldron cakes or that Slughorn would give him that mead.”
“Sabotage.”
Theo sighed. “Snape made an Unbreakable Vow to help Malfoy with his task. It has to be something important enough to risk death.”
“Like killing Dumbledore.” Harry laughed mirthlessly. “That’s a joke. Malfoy has to know that’s impossible. Also, Dumbledore’s hand…where did that ring go?”
Theo shifted slightly. “What else happened?”
“I’ve saved a third of the Weasley family,” Harry said. “Hagrid thinks Dumbledore doesn’t know who’s sending cursed necklaces and poisoned meads, but Snape knows, I know, you know. Dumbledore must know, and is allowing it for some reason.”
“Are you going to stop Malfoy yourself so you stop losing quidditch players?”
“Maybe,” Harry muttered darkly. “Hagrid overheard a conversation in the forest. Snape said Dumbledore took too much for granted, which is true, and that he didn’t want to do something anymore.”
“Help Malfoy?” Theo guessed.
“Well, Dumbledore said he agreed to it. If Malfoy’s job is to kill Dumbledore, Snape has to help him or he dies.”
“Perhaps he’s dying anyway, with that curse wound from a ring that is or was a horcrux of Voldemort’s.”
Harry checked his watch and sighed wearily. "We'll have to talk later. I need to go threaten someone."
"Remember what I told you, McLaggen."
McLaggen nodded stiffly, mounting his broom.
"Good. Let's win this for our fallen comrades, Katie Bell and Ronald Bilius Weasley."
Harry rose into the air to the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle and Luna somehow doing commentary. The chasers were chasing, the bludgers were bludging, and McLaggen kept his mouth shut and stayed near the hoops, keepering. Harry sought and collected the snitch, ending the game rapidly.
It was before dawn on a Sunday morning, the day after the Hufflepuff match. Harry had acquired food for the entire day from the kitchens. Theo had books to read.
"It's a survey," Harry said, pacing back and forth. A door appeared, and he opened it to a room with towers of lost items.
"It's a treasure trove," Theo said, stepping in. Crookshanks slunk in and took off into the teetering stacks.
"What kind of thing would Voldemort want in here?"
"Maybe something he lost," Theo suggested.
They walked past broken bottles and broken furniture, clothing and jewels, weakly hovering fanged frisbees, the deformed results of poor magic, a bloody ax…It would take a lifetime to catalog it all. They passed a stuffed troll—something that seemed impossible to lose—and walked past the broken Vanishing Cabinet.
"I told Madam Pomfrey what happened to Montague," Harry said.
"Montague told all of us," Theo replied. "He kept hearing voices and ended up apparating out. It was a miracle he lived."
"Voices?"
"People at school, or people at a shop, I think."
"How do vanishing cabinets work?" Harry asked.
"I'm not sure," Theo said. "From his story, it sounds like this one was connected to another."
"The first time I used the floo I ended up in Borgin and Burkes," Harry said. "I hid in a cabinet that looked like this one. Malfoy almost caught me in it."
They both regarded the cabinet.
"It's a way into the school," Theo concluded. "Do you think Malfoy knows?"
"He heard the story and he knows about both cabinets," Harry said. "There are other secret ways into the castle, but Pettigrew knows that we know them too. If not me then Sirius and Lupin."
"The extra security would make it harder to get in," Theo added.
"We can always destroy it or remove it. Let's see if Malfoy even knows what it is."
Harry and Theo spent some time exploring, digging through the piles. Harry was starting to get hungry when he heard a distant meow.
He quickly threw the invisibility cloak over him and Theo and made for the door. He spotted a bright blond head moving through confidently and followed.
Malfoy stopped in front of the Vanishing Cabinet. He raised his wand and started an incantation.
"I think that answers our question," Theo whispered.
Harry watched Malfoy. "Dumbledore has a habit of luring dangerous things to the castle. I feel like if I told him about this, he might not do anything."
"If this is Malfoy's job, or part of it, he could die if he fails."
They sat quietly as Malfoy worked.
Harry sat in Dumbledore's office after Trelawney left in a haze of sherry and centaur complaints.
"Firstly," Dumbledore said, "have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?”
"No, but I have learned some things."
"I see. What would those be?"
Harry took a breath. "I know Draco Malfoy is trying to kill you. I know Snape took an Unbreakable Vow to assist him. I know Malfoy is repairing a Vanishing Cabinet, likely connected to one in Borgin and Burkes. I know Voldemort created a horcrux, possibly multiple horcruxes. Those horcruxes are likely trophies. The ring you had. The locket. I would guess other valuable artifacts. Possibly the diary I destroyed."
Harry looked up at Dumbledore, waiting for his reaction. Dumbledore just kept watching him.
"Everyone knows the defense position is cursed," Harry said, suddenly realizing. "That's why you gave Snape the job. You already know about Malfoy."
Dumbledore looked like he had aged a decade. "You've come to quite a number of conclusions, Harry."
"You're not saying I'm wrong."
Dumbledore sighed. "Have you attempted to get the memory from Horace?"
"Is it really that important?"
"There will be little point in meeting after tonight without it."
"And what about Malfoy?"
"Don't concern yourself with Mr. Malfoy, Harry. He is being kept an eye on."
"You're rather blasé about it," Harry said. "The Vanishing Cabinet should be dealt with somehow. The house-elves should know where it is."
"Concern yourself with Horace," Dumbledore said firmly. "I have done my best to impress upon you the importance of that memory. It is crucial you obtain it."
Harry clenched his teeth. "I understand. I see how things are prioritized."
Dumbledore had a grim expression, but it cleared as he continued Tom Riddle's story.
He had worked at Borgin and Burkes—that shop was an endless source of trouble—he killed an elderly woman for a cup with a badger on it and a locket with a snake. He framed a house-elf. He sought the Defense post twice for reasons unknown. The post was cursed after his second rejection.
"I suspected Theo's father was one of the first Death Eaters," Harry said, having learned the man was waiting at the Hog's Head during Riddle's interview with Dumbledore. "He's old enough to have gone to school with him."
"You can see why I have misgivings about young Mr. Nott," Dumbledore said, still looking at his Pensieve.
"No, I really can't."
Harry and Theo were replacing the silencing charms on the fwoopers currently residing in a makeshift aviary. Hagrid had been crying all during Care, and wasn’t allowed to use magic anyway, so they were left to their own devices.
“Are you going to go to the apparition testing?” Harry asked, casting at another pink bird. It squawked silently at him. Other birds were in orange, yellow, and light green, shuffling around on their perches and ruffling their feathers. Theo collected a few of the fallen feathers for use as quills and potions ingredients.
“I don’t want the Ministry to have a record of me,” Theo said, checking under the birds for any eggs. Theo had turned seventeen a few weeks prior, and Harry blushed at the reminder of that day.
The month since Harry’s last meeting with Dumbledore had trickled by. He had to get the memory from Slughorn to get more information out of Dumbledore. But Dumbledore hadn’t checked in to see if Harry had gotten the memory, which lessened the urgency Dumbledore had tried to impart. Harry hadn’t gone to any of Slughorn’s supper parties, and while he still did the best in potions, he was not particularly close to the man. He doubted he could force the memory out if Dumbledore couldn’t. Harry would have to manipulate him. He had the Felix Felicis, which he had considered using, but didn’t want to if he could get the man’s cooperation by other means. He felt the potion would be more useful in a confrontation against Voldemort.
It was also frustrating how often Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement. Harry didn’t think the other boy knew exactly what the Room was capable of since he only used it to get to the Vanishing Cabinet. He had observed Malfoy working on it on several other occasions. Harry had also told Sirius what he suspected, and hoped someone was watching Borgin and Burkes for any Cabinet-related activity.
When Care was over, Hagrid approached them tearfully. “Aragog died last night,” he said, sniffling. “It would mean a lot to me if you came to the funeral this evening, Harry. Ron too, I know you two met him. And Hermione.” He sobbed, then glanced at Theo. “You’d be welcome too, Theo. I know you’ve got a fondness for creatures, and Aragog was…he was special…”
Harry reached up to pat Hagrid’s elbow. “We’ll be there, Hagrid. Aragog was a king among spiders.”
Harry and Theo left Hagrid to his grief and walked back up to the castle.
“This could be your chance,” Theo said. “Acromantula venom and silk are very rare. Slughorn is a potions master.”
Harry nodded. “Hagrid did say it was around dusk. We could ask him to accompany us. I’m not even going to bother asking Ron and Hermione,” he added. “Ron hates spiders, and Aragog did tell his children to eat us…Hermione won’t want to break the rules. She might even say it’s not worth getting detention for.”
“For a spider’s funeral?” Theo asked. “Normally I would agree, but this is an acromantula. They’re highly intelligent and can speak human languages.”
“And Aragog is one of Hagrid’s oldest friends, since Hagrid was in school. Did I tell you he and Aragog were framed for the Chamber of Secrets incident?”
Theo lightly took Harry’s elbow, stopping them before they reached the castle. “No, you did not.”
In potions it was just Harry, Theo, Malfoy, and Ernie. Slughorn let them brew whatever they wanted, so Harry mixed up a bright yellow Elixir of Euphoria, which swirled happily in his cauldron.
“A sprig of peppermint?” Slughorn said, looking down into the cauldron. “Unorthodox, but it would counteract the excessive singing…”
“I was thinking of sharing some with Hagrid,” Harry said, decanting the potion. Malfoy and Ernie were already packing up, Slughorn not as impressed by whatever they had created. Theo was lingering, watching Harry with dark eyes.
“An old friend of his passed away last night,” Harry said, putting a stopper in and looking at the liquid sunshine trapped within. “An acromantula named Aragog. He was almost sixty years old, I believe.”
“An acromantula, you say?” Slughorn asked.
“There’s a colony in the forest,” Harry said. “I’ve actually met Aragog before, in second year. He was quite impressive.”
“I should say so, my boy! Acromantula venom is…" Slughorn cleared his throat. "It died last night, you say?”
“I’ve been invited to the funeral this evening,” Harry said. “It’s at dusk. Nott as well, since we both take Care with Hagrid. I’m not sure what to do, since it’s after hours. I can’t miss a funeral for an old friend…”
“I’d be happy to accompany you, my boy!” Slughorn said. “You should be fine with a teacher on the grounds. Imagine, missing a funeral. We can’t have that, no, no…He needs a proper send off! Perhaps a bottle or two…”
Harry smiled to himself as he cleaned up his potions supplies, leaving a sample for Slughorn and taking the rest with him. Maybe it would cheer Hagrid up, and he could see the effects it had on half-giants…
Harry and Theo waited in the entrance hall for Slughorn after dinner, dressed in all black. Harry had explained to Hermione and Ron about Aragog’s funeral, and they reacted just as he had expected, though Hermione had calmed down once he told her a professor was going with.
“I’ve never been to a funeral before,” Harry said, adjusting his robes. “I don’t know if anyone took me to my parents’, or if they even had one.”
“There wasn’t one for my mother. There are barrows…” Theo stopped, then said, “She received a pyre. I was there.”
Harry nodded, watching Slughorn come down the stairs, several bottles in his arms and wearing a black cravat.
“It’s difficult to do a cravat properly, isn’t it?” Harry whispered to Theo. “He’s really going all out for Aragog’s corpse.”
“Let’s go, my boys,” Slughorn said eagerly. “Where’s the acromantula…excuse me, where’s the funeral being held?”
“By Hagrid’s hut,” Harry said as they set off across the grounds.
Once they arrived, Hagrid looked down at Harry and started to cry again. “You came…”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Harry said, stepping into the hut. “Theo and Professor Slughorn came as well.”
Theo said nothing, but Slughorn said somberly, “Hagrid…so very sorry to hear about your loss.”
“That’s very nice of you…”
Hagrid led them through to his back garden.
“Are we burying him in the forest?” Harry asked.
“Blimey, no. The others won’t let me near their webs anymore. It wasn’t easy getting Aragog’s body out, they usually eat their dead…wanted to give him a proper send off…” Hagrid renewed his crying.
Hagrid took them through the pumpkin patch and to the pit he had dug in the ground, next to which Aragog’s body was curled up. It was full dark now, and Aragog’s many glassy eyes reflected the moonlight.
“I didn’t realize how large he would be,” Theo said softly. “And you met him in second year?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, Hagrid sent me.”
“Magnificent,” Slughorn was saying, doing something around Aragog’s head that sounded suspiciously like milking his venom.
“Not everyone appreciates how beautiful they are…”
Hagrid rolled Aragog’s body into the pit, bawling.
“I would like to say a few words,” Harry said. Hagrid nodded mutely. “I first met Aragog when I was twelve years old. I followed some of his newly hatched children into the forest and was taken into the heart of the acromantula colony. Aragog, noble spider that he was, imparted valuable knowledge and spared me from immediate death. He respected Hagrid, and did not want to insult him by killing a friend of his. I will always remember that kindness.”
Hagrid gave a heart wrenching sob. He was too choked up to speak. Slughorn patted Hagrid’s elbow. “Why don’t I say a few words as well? It’s difficult for those who knew him best…”
Slughorn stepped to the edge of the pit. In sonorous tones, he began, “Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids…”
Hagrid fell to his knees, into the compost heap, howling with grief. “That was beautiful…”
It was hard to watch. Harry began levitating dirt over Aragog and completed the burial with Theo’s help. “Do you think you’d put flowers on a spider’s grave?”
“Maybe leave prey,” Theo suggested. “Though the other acromantulas may scavenge it. Then dig him up.” Theo considered the soft dirt. “We should have built a cairn.”
They helped Hagrid back into his hut and deposited him in a chair. Fang, who notably did not attend the funeral, went to comfort him. Slughorn uncorked a bottle of wine, assuring them house-elves had tested it for poison. By drinking it. With a strained smile, Harry took his mug of wine and toasted.
“To Aragog,” he said. He doubted the acromantula had tasted wine, nor that this was in accordance with acromantula funerary rites. He doubted any suggestion that they fry up bits of Aragog would be well received.
Harry and Theo watched Hagrid and Slughorn drink. Slughorn had realized the wealth of forest goods Hagrid had access to, rare plants and animal parts Hagrid wasn’t capitalizing on. Slughorn was particularly interested in a skein of unicorn hair. He questioned Hagrid about what was in the forest, and Hagrid was in his element.
“The bottles are getting empty,” Theo whispered in his ear. They hadn’t done much besides watching the two old men drink. Harry refilled the bottles for them, wondering exactly how drunk Slughorn would have to get to talk about horcruxes.
The conversation inevitably turned towards Harry, and the deaths of his parents.
“I don’t,” Slughorn said, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t suppose you remember it, Harry?”
"Parts of it," Harry said. He felt Theo take his hand under the table. He didn't like talking about this.
Harry explained how he remembered his father yelling at his mother to take him and run. How the yelling finally stopped. The sound of Voldemort walking slowly up the stairs. His mother’s frantic whispers to him. Voldemort telling her to step aside. His mother crying and begging for him to kill her instead. Voldemort's cold laughter. The flash of green light. Her body hitting the floor…
"That's enough!" Slughorn was shaking now. "Really, my dear boy, I'm an old man…"
"She gave her life for me," Harry said. "She gave her life to defeat Voldemort. I'm all that's left of her memory. I have to finish it."
Harry leaned closer, looking into Slughorn's watery eyes. "I am the chosen one. I have heard the prophecy. I know I'm the only one capable of defeating him. And I need something from you to do that."
It took more convincing, more assurances, but as Slughorn began to cry, he pulled the memory from his mind.
"Just don’t think too badly of me once you’ve seen it…"
Harry doubted either man would remember the evening, but he left a bottle of Euphoria elixir on the table and wished them goodnight.
Harry laid in bed, exhausted. After seeing Theo off to the dungeons, he’d found Dumbledore in his office and they viewed Slughorn’s memory. It confirmed, for both Dumbledore and Harry, that Voldemort had made multiple horcruxes. Six, with himself as the remaining soul piece, as seven was a magically powerful number. The diary, the ring, Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup. The only two Gryffindor artifacts were accounted for, the Hat and the sword. Something from Ravenclaw that Harry would ask Luna about. And the snake, Nagini, Dumbledore had theorized. She was unusually intelligent, even for a magical snake. After all were destroyed, only Voldemort would remain.
Dumbledore had insisted that Harry’s special power was love. He believed Harry had never been seduced by the dark arts, and Harry had stamped down any reaction to that. He wouldn’t be held back by the types of magic he used if he had to defeat Voldemort. Harry didn’t think himself uniquely capable of love, or of a love greater than anyone else. Plenty of parents died for their children. What made him suited to the task was Voldemort acting on the prophecy.
Dumbledore had also said he was close to finding another horcrux, and that he would be taking Harry with him. There wasn’t much Harry knew about the potential locations. The diary had been given to Lucius Malfoy, or perhaps his father Abraxas. The ring had been buried under the Gaunt shack. Nagini was with Voldemort, though he had sent the snake into the Ministry on her own…
Harry fell asleep, worried and disgruntled, hoping Dumbledore would deign to share more of his theories regarding the impossible task set before him.
Ron was making it snow and Lavender was crying. Harry just wanted to get through Charms.
“We split up last night,” Ron muttered to him.
Hermione informed them that Ginny and Dean had broken up as well. Annoyed, Harry turned his vinegar into white wine instead of red. Having both Ginny and Dean as chasers would be another headache.
After class, thinking about asking Seamus if he was still interested in the team, Harry barely noticed the commotion in the common room.
“Katie!” Hermione cried. “You’re back!”
Harry smiled in satisfaction. Those donations to St. Mungo’s had finally paid off. It neatly solved the Ginny-Dean problem as Dean was shuffled to reserve chaser so Katie could take back her spot. Not wanting to bring down Katie’s fortuitous recovery, Harry agreed to remain as seeker.
Weeks passed without word from Dumbledore. Harry has asked Luna about any Ravenclaw artifacts, and she mentioned a lost diadem, and perhaps speaking to Ravenclaw’s ghost. The ghost was particularly elusive and unfriendly, floating away from Harry any time he approached. Given the upcoming quidditch match with Ravenclaw, Harry felt she was giving him specifically the cold shoulder.
“If it’s lost,” Theo said, “It might be in the Room of Lost Things. Or Hidden Things. Which was it again?”
“If it was lost in the castle,” Harry said, but decided it couldn’t hurt to look.
One evening he checked the map to see if Malfoy was lurking around the Room, only to see him in a bathroom with Moaning Myrtle of all people. Harry took a detour to see what they were up to. He knew Malfoy was working on the Vanishing Cabinet, but didn’t know why. To smuggle an object into the castle? A person? To flee after another failed attempt on Dumbledore’s life, or when his feeble efforts managed to finally kill someone on the Gryffindor team?
Unable to hear anything through the door, and lacking Extendable Ears, Harry slipped quietly into the bathroom. He saw Malfoy with his head down, gripping a sink, with Myrtle trying to comfort him.
“Tell me what’s wrong…I can help you…”
“No one can help me,” Malfoy said, shaking. “I can’t do it, I can’t. It won’t work, and unless I do it soon…he says he’ll kill me…” Then Malfoy started to cry.
“I can help you,” Harry said. Malfoy spun around and brandished his wand. Harry blocked a hex. “I’m serious, I’m pretty good at—”
Malfoy wasn’t interested in how good Harry was at enchantment and magical item repair. Harry had misjudged this opportunity to get information out of him. He only learned what he already knew. Malfoy had a task, and he would die if he failed it.
Myrtle was screaming at them to stop when Malfoy tried to use the Cruciatus curse.
“Langlock!” Harry cast quickly. To his horror, Malfoy started choking, dropping his wand to clutch his throat.
“Shit,” Harry said. Malfoy had been crying, he probably couldn’t breathe through his nose at the moment. Harry knew he often overpowered spells; maybe Malfoy was choking on his own tongue. And Harry didn’t know the counter.
Harry ran over to Malfoy, trying finite but it wasn’t working. Malfoy thrashed on the floor, trying to get away from him. Myrtle flew off screaming about murder.
The bathroom door slammed open and Snape came through, shoving Harry aside to get to Malfoy. Harry watched as Snape silently cast the counterijnx.
“You need the hospital wing, there could be muscle damage,” Snape said, helping Malfoy up. “And you, Potter…you wait here for me.”
Sighing, Harry began fixing up the bathroom. Malfoy had done a lot of damage while attacking him, as had Harry’s efforts to block. He couldn’t believe Malfoy had actually tried to use crucio. He wondered if Snape would have found him twitching on the bathroom floor and just left him there.
Snape returned and sent Myrtle away.
“He tried to cast crucio,” Harry said. “I didn’t realize the spell I used could suffocate someone.”
“Apparently I underestimated you, Potter,” Snape said, ignoring that someone had once again tried to use an Unforgivable on him. “Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?”
“I doubt it’s dark magic,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Even scourgify can be used to kill someone. You know that, don’t you?”
“Answer the question,” Snape said with cold fury.
“I heard it was popular when my parents were in school,” Harry said easily. “Same with the levicorpus. I tried it once on Peeves…”
Snape looked down into his eyes. “Liar.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Harry said. “I’ve been practicing occlumency since I was thirteen. It’s not going to work.”
Snape narrowed his eyes at him, calculating. “I see. Tell me, where did your prodigious skill in potions come from?”
“I have my mother’s potions books,” Harry said. “I’ve been practicing on my own for years. It’s not my fault you never noticed.”
“Detention, Potter,” Snape barked. “Every Saturday—”
“No,” Harry said, cutting him off. “Absolutely not. Malfoy just tried to use crucio on me! That’s Azkaban for him. I’d love to give that memory to the aurors. Maybe he can share his dad’s cell?”
Snape gave him a disgusted look. “So this is the chosen one, Dumbledore’s golden boy…”
Harry backed out of the room, laughing harshly. “Don’t judge me. I’m not the one with a stupid tattoo on my arm.”
Harry put the bathroom incident out of his mind. He hoped his threat to get Malfoy arrested for using an Unforgivable would keep Snape in check, especially how Harry knew the Imperius had been cast with Malfoy’s wand the year before. He’d done it himself. And indeed Harry hadn’t heard from anyone, not Snape, not McGonagall, certainly not Dumbledore, about the altercation, other than about Malfoy’s brief stay in the hospital wing.
Saturday dawned bright and horrible. It was the last quidditch game of the season. Harry wasn’t sure how much they had to win by; in fact, he was fairly certain they didn’t have to win at all, just not lose with a wide margin.
It was a slaughter. Not even the twin cries of Luna’s eagle and lion hats could drown the audience out. Harry was all but carried into the common room by a sobbing Katie, while Ron swung the quidditch cup around. As Harry was trapped by the celebrations, he noticed Ginny sprinting towards him too late. She threw her arms around him. Thinking she was just happy about the win, he started to say, “Hey, good job—”
Then she kissed him.
Stunned, it took a moment for him to push her away. The room had gone completely quiet.
Dean crushed a glass in his hand. Romilda Vane was murderous. Hermione beamed at them. Ron nodded, grudgingly approving. Ginny looked at him, confused.
Harry gently detached Ginny and took a step back.
“For fuck’s sake,” he said. “Fine. Fine! I’m gay. I like boys. I have a boyfriend. Christ. Sorry, Gin,” he said, noticing her jaw had dropped.
Looking around as realization dawned on their faces, Harry gave up and left the room, muttering to himself, “He’s going to kill me…”
Everyone knew.
Harry had told Sirius what happened, and Sirius was proud but worried about the school's reaction. Theo sighed, knowing they'd have to be even more careful.
Hermione kept asking things like why didn't you tell us and was it that boy in the Ministry, finally leaving him alone when Harry's only response was stony silence.
Ron had stopped talking to him, either because he was upset at him rejecting Ginny, that he was gay, or because it was another secret Harry had been keeping. Ron spent more time around Ginny, who was completely withdrawn after her long-time crush had proven she never stood a chance.
Dean and Seamus were both avoiding him too, which Harry didn't want to be hurt by but was. They'd shared a dormitory for six years, and he had never done anything to them. He was the same person he had always been.
Neville was the only one still acting normal, validating Harry's estimation of him as a better friend. He didn't care at all, only offering to talk if Harry needed it, sitting next to him at meals and in class. Luna, too, was entirely indifferent to it, gifting him a necklace of butterbeer corks.
None of his teachers acted differently either. McGonagall did pull him aside to let him know to tell her about any additional bullying. Not that anything had been done in the past. Still, Harry appreciated it.
He couldn't wait for the school year to end.
Care of Magical Creatures was almost the only time Harry and Theo had alone together anymore. Hagrid was still deeply mourning Aragog and, distracted, left Harry and Theo alone to deal with whatever new creature he'd found.
That day they were working with murtlaps, a rat-like creature with fleshy pink tentacles growing on its back like a sea anemone. The tentacles were used in Murtlap Essence, which was brewed for the hospital wing.
"It says here that the bites can cause flames from the anus," Theo said with a completely straight face.
"That's perfect," Harry said, also completely serious. "You tell Slughorn I got bit and had to go to the hospital wing. He's not going to check with Madam Pomfrey about anal flames."
Harry gave Theo a sidelong glance, watching his lips thin and smirking to himself. He turned back to his sedated murtlap and carefully trimmed a few more tentacles to add to his jar.
Malfoy had completely taken over the Room of Requirement, missing meals, classes, and sleep to spend as much time in there as possible. However much Harry disliked the boy, he didn't want him to be killed for failure. He and Theo had discussed how the Order might handle whatever happened, and things they could do like setting traps and monitoring the Room using the Marauder's Map. However, they didn't want anyone accidentally stumbling across any magic they might leave in the seventh floor corridor, and Harry couldn't look at the map at all hours.
Aside from this, Harry still hadn't searched the Room of Hidden Things for the diadem. He had been waiting for a good opportunity, and using the murtlaps to get out of class was a perfect one.
"I'm so looking forward to that conversation," Theo said. "There was something I wanted to show you."
Harry turned to him. "Really?"
Theo nodded, pulling out an old, yellowed newspaper page with a photograph. Harry's eyes widened. The girl looked very familiar. He has seen her as an adult in Snape's mind.
Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team
"I didn't even know we had a gobstones team," Harry said, taking the picture. "Where did you get this?"
"Searching through old Prophets in the library. Marriage notices, birth notices, obituaries…"
"It must have taken ages," Harry said, impressed.
Theo shrugged. "I've had a lot of time on my hands."
Harry sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. She came at me out of nowhere. I had to get out of it somehow."
"I know," Theo said quietly. Then, "Just one more year."
They left Care, Theo headed for the dungeon while Harry walked towards the hospital wing. He turned off the corridor before he got there, making his way to the empty seventh floor.
Inside the Room of Hidden Things, he tried, "Accio diadem." Nothing happened.
"Guess I have to do this the hard way," he mumbled to himself, walking through the towering piles. It could be anywhere. In the middle of a pile, hidden in a cursed drawer, hidden in an Albanian forest…
When discussing the diadem’s location with Theo, and whether or not it was actually a horcrux—Luna had said it was the only known relic of Ravenclaw’s—they had both gone over how Malfoy knew about the Room. Dumbledore had said Voldemort was fascinated by the castle’s secrets, by uncovering them, as many students had been in the past. The Room presented itself to those in need, manifesting different forms based on that need, often never to be found again. If Voldemort needed a place to hide a horcrux, a lost diadem, he may have found the Room of Hidden Things. And if he knew it existed, perhaps he had shared that information with his Death Eaters. With Malfoy. A place to work on the Vanishing Cabinet, where it wouldn’t be found. After the Montague incident it was a wonder the thing hadn’t been destroyed.
Harry checked behind the stuffed troll then kept walking. He hadn’t seen any of Malfoy’s progress on the Vanishing Cabinet recently, he didn’t know how functional it was. He paused by it, but there was no way to tell from the outside, and Harry wasn’t inclined to test it for fear of giving himself away.
He kept walking, opening an acid-damaged cupboard. He found a cage containing a dusty skeleton with five legs. Sighing, Harry closed the door, looking around at the overwhelming amount of clutter. Would Voldemort hide a horcrux with rubbish? Would he put it on display?
Harry spotted a cracked bust of a warlock on a crate, an old wig, broken chairs, torn books, used quills…
His heart stopped when his eyes landed on an old tiara. It was a delicate circlet of tarnished silver, encrusted with small sapphires. Luna had shown him the statute of Rowena Ravenclaw, wearing an identical item carved from marble. Unwilling to touch it, or even get too close, Harry cautiously approached it. He could make out the engraved words, Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.
Harry felt drawn to it, Ravenclaw’s greatest treasure. What would it give him should he wear it? What knowledge had Rowena Ravenclaw secreted within? How much easier would it be to find the other horcruxes, to plot Voldemort’s demise? If he were smarter, wiser…
Harry jerked back, falling into the cold clarity of an occluded mind. He had seen what the ring had done to Dumbledore’s hand. He knew the diary had possessed Ginny. He was not going to fall into the same trap. Kreacher had shouted at him enough times about not touching strange magical objects. For all he knew the diadem could decapitate him, or possess him like the diary.
Harry searched around for something to carry it in, noting that class was almost over and he was running out of time to get out of the Room. He found an old school bag and tipped out the contents, broke the leg off the chair, and knocked the diadem in. Holding it as far away from his body as he could, ignoring the prickling at his mind, the sibilant tones that were intruding, he hurried out of the Room.
Harry first went to Dumbledore’s office, but he wasn’t there. Angry, scared about the object he had found, Harry stormed away from the unhelpful gargoyle. Harry could destroy it himself, he thought, walking quickly through the corridors. Sirius had talked to him about Fiendfyre, the enchanted beasts of eternal fire, borne of rage, immensely difficult to control and harder to stop. Harry hadn’t tested it yet, certainly not at school. But he had destroyed one horcrux. The diary, with a basilisk fang. He knew where to get one of those.
He stopped himself just as he got to the second floor girls’ bathroom. Myrtle took one look at him and left in a huff, still upset about the whole Malfoy fight. Harry thought he had more of a reason to be upset; he wasn’t the one who started throwing spells around and ruining the bathroom. He had even fixed it.
Harry looked at the sink and hesitated. If he went down there alone, no one would know where he had gone, and no one would be capable of retrieving him. Except Fawkes, perhaps, but he hadn’t seen a feather of the phoenix in weeks. He didn’t know if phoenixes would simply come if you called for them. He needed backup, and there was only one person he trusted to do that.
Hiding in a stall wasn’t Harry’s preferred way to spend dinner, but he stuffed himself in one nevertheless, his wand pointed at the sack the diadem was in.
The bathroom door creaked open. “Harry?”
Harry picked up the sack and exited the stall. “Finally, I was getting hungry.”
“You could have called a house-elf,” Theo said, walking towards him. Harry put his hand out to stop him.
“I’m not eating while on the loo,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. “And it’s best not to get too close. I found the diadem. It’s been whispering to me…” Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore’s gone again, and I’m not keeping this thing around me. So, we’re going to destroy it.”
“In the girls’ toilet?” Theo asked, looking around skeptically.
Harry smiled and walked to the sink. Looking at the little snake engraving, he hissed, “Open.”
Theo watched in shock as the sink parted to reveal the tunnel into the Chamber of Secrets.
“We should lock the door,” Harry said, casting a spell at it. “We don’t want anyone else getting in.
“You failed to mention the Chamber of Secrets was accessed through a girls’ toilet,” Theo said.
“Did I?” Harry asked, climbing in. “Just to warn you, I didn’t bother cleaning up after I killed the basilisk.”
The way down was as vile as it had been the first time, but Harry was older now and could spell his clothing clean. It was a long, dark slide down a slimy, twisting pipe. Other pipes branched off from it, smaller and passing too quickly for Harry to explore them. He had forgotten how long the pipe was, taking them deeper and deeper under the school.
The pipe finally leveled out and ejected him onto a pile of small animal bones. Harry spelled the slime off and lit his wand, turning to see Theo pick himself up from the ground.
“Charming,” Theo said, looking around the grim corridor. The dark walls all but oozed with centuries of filth. It was wet, dark, cold, and disgustingly humid as they walked.
“Ron thought this must be under the lake,” Harry said, following a bend in the tunnel. They found where Lockhart caused the cave in and Theo repaired it, even as he looked at the giant snake skin that had been crushed by the falling rocks.
“How big was the basilisk?” Theo asked as they continued.
“You’ll see,” Harry said. “It was over a thousand years old, so I imagine as big as a basilisk can get.”
The wall he had found, which had carved serpents with emerald eyes, was still receded into the corridor. He’d close it later to show Theo.
Inside the chamber itself was dim, towering pillars with carved snakes lit by a greenish gloom. The ceiling was lost to shadows, water pooled on the ground, and there was the gargantuan, decaying corpse of a basilisk.
Harry cast a bubble-head charm over himself. The smell was atrocious.
“That basilisk was at least fifty feet long,” Theo said, not having moved from the doorway.
“Looks like,” Harry said lightly, walking towards it.
“You were twelve.”
“Yeah.”
Theo followed him silently, footsteps splashing in the shallow pools of rank water.
“The size of the chamber is impressive,” Theo finally said. “But the atmosphere leaves something to be desired.”
“Like what?” Harry asked.
“An atmosphere.”
“Seems fitting for an ancient beast of the darkest magics,” Harry said, pausing in front of the basilisk fang he had used. The one that had broken off in his arm. A piece of Harry Potter history.
“A toad sitting on a chicken egg doesn’t sound very dark,” Theo said. “And yet, here we are.”
The basilisk was an impressive sight, even as the flesh had fallen from its skeleton, liquefying on the stone, scattered with scales. Harry set the bag on the floor, asked Theo to keep an eye on it, then reached into the basilisk’s mouth to break off a fang, careful not to get scratched.
“We should collect a few more for the other horcruxes,” Theo said. “If this works. It might have with the diary because that was made out of paper.”
“We won’t know until we test it,” Harry said. He broke off another fang in case the first one wasn’t enough. He would just keep stabbing.
“I know the incantation for Fiendfyre,” Theo said suddenly. “I’ve seen it used before.”
“That is a last resort,” Harry said. “Stand back. The diary bled ink after I stabbed it. I don’t know what this will do.”
As Theo moved away, holding his wand out, Harry carried the sack to the center of the chamber and tipped it out. The diadem clattered innocently to the floor.
“Gave up trying to get into my head, have you?” Harry said to it, kneeling on the cold, wet stones. “Get ready.”
Harry lifted the basilisk fang in one hand and stabbed it into the diadem’s inscription.
A shrieking cloud of black exploded out of the diadem, parting around Harry. Terrified as it screamed and battered madly at him, Harry drove the basilisk fang in harder, willing for the venom to work. He heard Theo call his name and closed his eyes, even as the diadem bucked and twisted away.
“Fucking die already!” he screamed at it, lifting the basilisk fang and stabbing it again, and again, wanting it to be over. The whispers he had heard became louder, in more and more voices, filling his ears, trying to slither into his mind.
And then it stopped.
The fang fell from Harry’s shaking hand, rolling away. The diadem lay there, mangled beyond recognition, dripping with steaming venom. Harry pushed himself off his knees and fell back, sitting in another frigid puddle. Theo was running towards him, falling to the ground to check him over for injuries, venom, curses, poisons, possession…
“So that was a horcrux,” Harry said numbly, staring at the twisted thing with wild eyes. Theo pulled him into a hug, and Harry started shaking violently. “And now we have to find the rest of them.”