§Do you think he's dead?§ Oorjit asked, watching Harry's still form with trepidation.
Serion crawled up onto Harry's chest and sat there in a coil. §He's not breathing.§
Oorjit flew up into the air and drifted closer to peer into Harry's gray tinged face. §Can we do anything?§
§Like what?§ Serion snapped, §We can't wake him; we're snakes!§
§Hit him with your tail.§
§That'll work,§ Serion scoffed, but did so anyway before hurriedly slithering off.
Harry shivered, opened his eyes, and gagged on a mouthful of water. Groaning loudly, he rolled over and vomited. He braced himself on one arm, his wet black hair falling around his face. His throat was on fire and his chest heavy, constricting his breathing.
§Oh good, he's alive then.§
§I can't believe that worked!§
Harry coughed, spitting up more water. It came up like acid, burning his throat and nose. He kept dry-heaving afterwards, trying to regain his breath. His whole body racked with shivers from the cold seeping through his wet robes.
§Are you all right?§ Serion asked slithering into view and looking up into Harry's pasty pale face.
§Kill me,§ Harry moaned, flopping back over and slamming his elbow painfully into the stone floor.
§You'd probably look a right side better than you do now,§ Serion hissed, worry lacing his words as his tongue flicked out to taste the air.
Harry laughed weakly, nursing his elbow before covering his eyes with his hand. His whole body ached and his magic felt sluggish. He was tired, so tired.
§You came out of thin air!§ the occamy exclaimed, hovering and twisting above him.
Harry blinked his eyes slowly open and screwed his face up in thought. §I am pretty sure that I Apparated.§
§Aren't there wards against that sort of thing?§ Serion asked, curiously.
He nodded, rolling limply onto his side, peering at the two blurry snakes a few feet in front of him. §Come glasses,§ he called unwittingly incanting in Parseltongue, barely raising a finger.
§I think they're lost--§ Oorjit started, but then stopped, his reptilian face turning toward the side.
They flew up from the water and glided to a halt in front of Harry, who tried them on and saw that they were scraped up beyond use. "Repairo," he whispered and with a wave of his hand they were fixed and replaced on his nose.
§So now that we've saved your life,§ Serion started, cocking his head to peer appraisingly at Harry's drenched form. §Mind telling us why you Apparated and fell from the ceiling?§
§I needed a book.§
§Oh, sweet, Salazar's snake,§ Serion cursed, shaking his head. §You nearly killed yourself for a book. That's so like you to do.§
§Is it?§ Oorjit asked shifting his scaly head to look at Serion.
Serion nodded sadly. Harry tried to glare, but couldn't muster up enough anger for it and sighed instead. He forced himself upright, and looked for his wand. It was lying inches from the water's edge. He stretched to pick it up, relishing the weight of it resting in his hand.
Using his wand to cast several strong drying charms on his person, Harry luxuriated in the blast of heat. He tried to mend the rip in his robes with sewing charms, but too much had been taken. Muttering darkly under his breath, Harry resorted to using a glamour to hide the long gash. He was going to have to trash the robes as soon as he could.
Straightening, Harry looked down at his reptilian rescuers. §Did you see the book?§
§What book?§ Serion asked. §You mean that tatty black leather book that also fell from the sky? The one with gold lettering on it? That one?§
Harry glared at the tiny green garden snake and nodded.
Serion pointed his tail behind him and said, §It's over there, where it fell through Myrtle's head. She's quite upset.§
§Wailed on and on about how nobody respects her delicate disposition,§ Oorjit added, recalling the fit the girl ghost threw as Harry stepped over both of them. His nostrils flared distastefully as he hissed, §May I ask, to what delicate disposition was she referring?§
§Tetchy, that describes her more aptly than delicate,§ Harry murmured distractedly, bending down and picking up the Horcrux book.
He examined it briefly before opening the front cover. Spidery handwriting crawled over the page, faint with age. Harry flipped through the pages examining the nearly indecipherable text. Midway through the book a yellow piece of parchment slipped out and floated to the floor. He bent over, picked it up and turned it over.
On it was Dumbledore's handwriting: Trophies. Frowning, Harry stuck the paper back into the book where it slipped from and continued flipping. Another scrap was nestled snugly in the crease near the top. It read: Riddles, muggles, 16, diary. On the backside in another color ink Dumbledore wrote: Morfin Gaunt, pureblood, 30, ring. Harry replaced it, mind working furiously as he idly flipped the rest of the way through… one last scrap of paper was found near the back, blotchy and marked through. It read: 7, 13.
§Why seven or thirteen?§ Harry mused quietly, closing the book and looking around.
Oorjit flapped his wings, shaking a few feathers loose. §What are you talking about?§
§Hmm?§ Harry said absently, focusing on the occamy. §Oh, it's something Dumbledore wrote down.§
§What's special about the numbers seven or thirteen?§
§Magically they're the strongest numbers for good and bad. Though technically good and bad are misnomers, relating to some fortunate and unfortunate correlating luck attached to them by foolish divinators and gullible muggles.§
§That explains that then; so glad you cleared that up for me,§ Oorjit replied dryly, swishing his tail.
Serion curled up one of the snake statues lining the Chamber and settled in for a nap. Oorjit shook his head at Harry and copied Serion. They were exhausted from saving their snake-human and needed to recuperate. Harry decided to let them sleep in peace and made for the snake portal to exit the Chamber, shrinking and placing a strong notice-me-not charm on the book.
When Harry made it to the surface of the school, he heard Myrtle sobbing wretchedly in the u-bend. Calling out to her, he apologized profusely for dropping the book on her and told her that he hadn't done it maliciously. Tears stopped running down her mottled cheeks as she attempted to smile at him. It came out sickly and more than a little leeringly, disturbing him a great deal. Hastily making his goodbyes, Harry escaped the girls' bathroom and raced back to the common room to find Hermione.
What he found in the Ravenclaw tower was nothing short of a surprising flurry of activity as the Heads present were dictating orders to all members of the house. Hermione was standing by the girls' staircase while Daniel stood by the boys'; both counting heads as Ravenclaws marched downstairs. The common room had never been so crowded.
It was the first time since he punched his brother in the nose that Harry had seen him. His skin was discolored and his nose looked twice it's usual size. Harry felt a wisp of smug satisfaction curl through him at the knowledge that Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to fix his brother up.
He shifted his attention to the two adults in the room. Dumbledore and McGonagall were casting their considerable penetrating glares on the collected mass in hopes to cower them into insensible mush. Dumbledore's was surprisingly effective given the barmy grandfather image he usually portrayed.
As the portrait swung shut, McGonagall turned her head and barked, "Where have you been Mr. Potter? Go fall in line."
Dumbledore turned at her words and settled the full weight of his gaze on him. Harry fought the urge to fidget under that searching gaze. He tried to meet the Headmaster's eyes to show that he wasn't afraid and had nothing to hide, but immediately developed a tension headache and had to look away.
Harry merged into the collected mass of students and edge his way over to Hermione. He waited to speak until the last girl stepped off the steps and Hermione was finished with her count.
"What's going on?" Harry whispered, rubbing his temple to massage the pulsating ache.
Hermione looked at him, her brows creased together in puzzlement. "Where've you been, Harry? Dumbledore and McGonagall came in at half-past the hour. Dumbledore is furious about something, but nobody knows what. Daniel and I've been told to go and collect every Ravenclaw into the common room."
Harry knew what Dumbledore was furious about, but couldn't fathom how the Headmaster knew it was a Ravenclaw that had been in his office. "I've been wandering the halls since you went off with the other Heads."
"We've been done for nearly two hours now!"
Harry shrugged, leaning against the wall, watching Dumbledore and McGonagall herd the younger years to the front. "How could I have known?"
Hermione gave him her own searching look before stating dryly, "And there was a castle-wide announcement to return to our dormitories."
Harry shrugged again and without changing his alibi, said, "I figure we'll soon find out why the Headmaster and his Deputy are here, wouldn't you think?"
Hermione leaned against the wall beside him and looked out at the common room. "The rumor is that someone broke the wards, or so Daniel told me when he came up with them."
Harry's lips twitched. He certainly had. Apparating on Hogwarts ground was suppose to be impossible, but Dumbledore had done it first, opening the way for Harry.
Harry's attempt had drained a lot of his magical core. The drain was nothing that would be notable in his regular performance, however he wouldn't be Apparating any time soon. Though of course his tiredness could be entirely blamed on his near death experience. Dumbledore, Harry noted beneath hooded lids, seemed to be bristling with energy and not at all affected.
Dumbledore raised his hand and the common room quieted down. Peering over his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore locked gazes with several students in turn. "I found this," he said, holding up a length of ripped fabric and gesturing with it. "…in my office. Can anybody tell me whose it is?"
Harry's insides turned to ice and his mind stalled. A little voice in his head was running around and screaming, 'Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, damn.'
The torn robe fragment displayed his house colors proudly. No wonder, Dumbledore knew it was a Ravenclaw.
"It looks like a wadded up rag," Marcus Belby, a sixth year chaser, called out from amidst his group of friends.
Dumbledore concurred with a slight nod of his head, while McGonagall's lips thinned and her expression turn even more formidable. Harry forced himself to relax and felt the tension slip off his shoulders. He would not panic. Harry glanced around the circular room and vaguely wondered if he could cast an arresto momentum on himself after he jumped out the window.
"Indeed, Mr. Belby, it would appear so," Dumbledore said mildly, "It is however, a piece of Ravenclaw student school robes, as indicative of the blue piping on the pocket."
"So you're looking for somebody whose exposing themselves right now?" asked fifth year Stewart Ackerley, raising an eyebrow, failing to keep the smirk off of his face. "Why?"
"That would be correct," McGonagall replied tersely as the portrait swung open to admit their Head of House. "As for why, Mr. Ackerley, the student is in serious trouble for their actions. He or she will be taken to the Headmaster's office for a talk about what happened."
The younger students in the common room stifled some inappropriate giggling as a group of sixth year boys let out a low jeering noise. Harry rolled his eyes at the juvenile behavior and shifted his body closer to Hermione's to hide the glamour charm against her side, plans of escaping capture coming to a halt. He wrapped and arm around her waist and she relaxed against him, covering him perfectly. She flashed him a worried smile before shifting her attention to the new occupant coming into the room.
"Sorry, Albus," Flitwick squeaked, wiping his face with a sleeve of his robes and fanning himself. "Trelawney was making one of her infrequent visits to the lower levels and held me up."
"Not to worry, Filius," Dumbledore said, looking down at the small Professor.
Flitwick greeted McGonagall quietly before abruptly facing the Headmaster, who was staring directly into a fourth year's eyes and humming. "Are you sure it's one of my students?"
He watched as Dumbledore turned his face away from the girl to meet Flitwick's flashing blue eyes set deep in his wrinkly face. Funny, Harry thought, it looked like it had taken Dumbledore a great deal of effort to break away from the fourth year. The unwillingness to break eye contact piqued Harry's interest. Something more was going on beneath the surface; he just didn't know what.
As Flitwick and Dumbledore moved aside away from the collected mass and exchanged whispered conversation, Hermione tilted her head up taking advantage of the professors brief interlude. She tugged his head down at an awkward angle to whisper in his ear, "Something tells me, talking is not what our Professors want to do with the trespasser."
Harry dropped his head and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, not taking his eyes off Dumbledore. "Something tells me you're right."
Several minutes into the argument, their Head of House reluctantly withdrew and folded his arms over his tiny chest.
McGonagall shared a look with the Headmaster and addressed the assemblage of Ravenclaws. "Breaking into the Headmaster's office is violation that we cannot and will not tolerate. Do not make this harder on yourself, if you did it come forward now."
Harry schooled his features to reveal nothing about his inner turmoil and squeezed Hermione's waist. She sighed, staring out at her peers, indignation marring her smooth brow with a deep-set frown.
Dumbledore offered kind twinkling eyes and said with a benevolent spread of his arms, "Something was taken from my office. No doubt, a souvenir to share amongst the friends of the interloper. Alas, it is something dear to me and I must have it returned."
Harry snorted quietly. Hermione gave him a look and jabbed him in the side. He twitched under the painful prodding and grabbed her finger not wanting another painful dig. They exchanged a smoldering glance; his gaze promising future retribution, hers promising more of the same.
As McGonagall continued to dress the house down in an attempt to get them to point out the culprit, the Headmaster turned back to face the room. Harry knowing now what he was looking for found it as Dumbledore's gaze sharpened and twinkled brightly as he looked into Lisa Turpin's eyes. Breaking the connection was like watching the laffy taffy (the candy that gives you giggle fits!) machine in Honeydukes pulling and rolling the wad of taffy in long clingy strands.
It was the same process as Dumbledore drifted from face to face. An unsettling disquiet welled in Harry as he observed the man in action. He was using magic, Harry was certain. Mind magic to be exact and wondered how he never noticed it before now. It wasn't like the Headmaster was doing this for the first time.
Harry remembered that tingling feeling in his gut. The unsettling feeling had always made him wonder if the Headmaster knew more than what Harry was telling. And he couldn't ignore the sharp twinges in his skull whenever he matched gazes with Dumbledore or Snape.
What they were doing had to be illegal. Most mind tampering magic was. The obliviate was restricted to a squad of authorized witches and wizards and even then it was only permitted to be used in enforcing the Secrecy of Magic Act.
Harry was sure there were books on it in the restricted section. There had to be some way to block what they were doing. He would have to find it and learn it well because there was going to be a time when Harry would be caught in those twinkling blue eyes and not be released. For now he scrutinized and memorized what was taking place so he could use his observations to help him with research.
At last Dumbledore reached them and stroked his beard. "Is there anything you would like to tell us, Ms. Ganger? Mr. Potter?"
They both shook their heads and the Headmaster frowned trying to catch Harry's gaze. But Harry was onto Dumbledore's tricks and deftly avoided the madly twinkling eyes. Several tense minutes when by and having not succeeded in capturing Harry's eyes with his own, Dumbledore turned to Hermione.
"Very well," Dumbledore said at last, staring again at Harry. "Since none of you feel inclined to point out who among you is the troublemaker, I'm afraid I will have to ban all extra curricular activities."
"What about Quidditch!" Stephen shouted, pushing his way forward, looking suitably horrified.
Dumbledore shifted his attention, mild bemusement coming through his voice as he answered, "Yes, Mr. Cornfoot, Quidditch too."
"That's not fair!" Stephen and the rest of the team yelled out in unison as they flocked behind their captain.
"Really, Headmaster," Flitwick started, moving forward. "You just can't shut down our team, not without due reason, like the team being behind the break-in. I highly doubt they are part of this travesty--this conspiracy."
"Reason I have, Filius," Dumbledore murmured, his eyes flitting back toward Harry. "But, I suppose you are right. There was a witness to the thievery happening in my office."
Harry swallowed thickly, dreading the appearance of the witness who was sure to be Fawkes. He wouldn't be able to escape detection! Why hadn't he just stayed in the Chamber until this whole thing blew over? Because, he thought miserably, his absence would have been noted with suspicion.
Relieved, Flitwick demanded, "Then bring him forward. Let us settle this matter right now, Albus."
"Here! Here!" cried the Quidditch team and several other students.
Dumbledore inclined his head and closed his eyes. Flitwick at first looked confused but his expression cleared in understanding as he took a step back. McGonagall crossed the floor and joined the small professor. At the end of her movement the air in the common room was instantantly compressed until Harry felt his ears pop.
A song-like cry heralded Fawkes descent from the ceiling down to rest on Dumbledore's shoulder. Harry felt his body temperature spike and his pulse speed up in his throat. Carefully, he extracted his slightly damp palm from around Hermione's and rubbed it on his robes to dry it off before taking her hand again.
"Fawkes, saw the intruder through their disillusionment charm and can point the trespasser out to us," Dumbledore said, petting the bright red plumage of Fawkes breast.
Harry kept silent, watching Fawkes. The bird raised his beak loftily in the air and swished his tail feathers at Dumbledore's announcement. Black eyes found his easily in the throng and a smug twinkle lit up the phoenix's face. He forced the anxiety tensing up his shoulders to fall away and it dissipated. Harry met and matched the look in those black eyes, watching with his own smug smile as the phoenix did a double take.
Dumbledore fixed his gaze on a couple of fidgeting sixth years. "I would advise said thief to turn himself or herself in because this is my last offer for leniency. Fawkes will reveal who you are, it is hopeless to assume otherwise."
Harry never took his eyes off the red bird, mentally daring the creature to do just that. Fawkes trilled agitatedly, and swiveled his head to stare hard at Daniel, who was silently standing next to the boy's dormitories. Daniel shifted uneasily under the unexpected attention. Surprised by the phoenix's action, Harry could barely hide the shocked look on his face before Fawkes turned back and chirruped loudly.
Dumbledore stroked the scarlet bird soothingly. "Fawkes?" he prodded, reminding the phoenix what he was suppose to do.
Fawkes stared forcefully into Harry's eyes. Relaxing into it instead of avoiding it like he had with Dumbledore, Harry drifted. The feeling of feathers, soft as silk, drifted across his mind. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes under the gentle touch and then the presence was gone and Harry felt instantly awake.
A deep wariness filled him as he held his breath waiting for Fawkes to act. He was taken by surprise again when the phoenix simply vanished into thin air. Dumbledore looked equally shocked by his familiar's actions. The look was quickly replaced by an intimidating air.
"Whoever you are," he murmured with deliberate calmness, motioning to Daniel, "Fawkes has decided to not expose you. Rest assured, however, that you will be found out."
"Sir! Sir, please!" Cornfoot shouted anxiously as the Heads started to file over to the portrait door at the far side from where they stood. "What about Quidditch!"
Dumbledore paused, hand on the frame, beard swung over his right shoulder. He gazed at the seventh year boy and replied, "My decision stands."
Loud protestations erupted from the students as they surged forward. One look from the Headmaster and they all fell silent. Grumbling broke out as soon as Dumbledore, Daniel, and McGonagall disappeared out the door. Flitwick stayed behind and shook his head sadly, his disappointment clear on his crinkled face.
"I would have expected better of my Ravenclaws," he squeaked, raising a hand to stop Cornfoot's anxious babble. "If you know who it is and are keeping silent, you are hurting your fellow housemates--"
"I love being on the Hogwarts Swim Team!"
"And I on the Hogwarts Knowledge Bowl!"
Flitwick nodded gravely at their outbursts. "We are a House--"
"I don't want to forfeit from Wizarding Chess League!" a boy shouted distressed. "I'm playing Ron Weasley for championship in the next match!"
"Same goes for me! I love Broom Racing! I don't want to quit!"
"Me too! I don't want to leave the Gobstones Club!"
"Or the Exploding Snap League!"
"QUIDDITCH!!!"
The room broke into weak laughter at the declaration from a desperate Cornfoot. Their Head of House raised a hand to shush them and it slowly died out. They watched, breath held, for the Professor to finish his speech.
"We stand to lose much as a whole, do we not?" Flitwick asked pensively. "It doesn't seem fair to punish the group for the crimes of one."
"Here! Here!"
"Let me finish, please, Mr. Corner," Flitwick reprimanded. "Ravenclaw might be known first and foremost for it's intelligence, but that doesn't mean we don't possess the conviction of Gryffindor to do what is right, or the loyalty of Hufflepuff to its students as individuals and as a whole, or the self-serving of Slytherin to ruin for others what no one has the right to ruin. You have until tomorrow evening to come forward and after that I will enforce Dumbledore's decision for the rest of the year, whether or not the Headmaster lifts it."
"WHAT!"
"NO!"
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"
"Think on it," Professor Flitwick said, "and do the right thing, like I know you will."
And Flitwick was gone, leaving a disgruntled house to argue and shout amongst themselves. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him out after their Head of House. Once on the other side of the portrait she pushed him into an alcove hidden behind blue curtains.
"Miss me?" Harry asked, feeling great, his deception the least of his concerns now that he and Fawkes came to an understanding.
"Did you do it?" Hermione demanded, ignoring his cheekiness.
º«««º»»»ºEnd Chapter 15º«««º»»»º