Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place was a sight to behold. Molly and Lily were directing the Marauders in decoration placement. Remus, being the least cowed by the fiery redheads, managed to wrap both Sirius and James in the holly boughs meant for the banisters. Lily, of course, blamed the other two idiots for fooling around. Their glares promised Remus some serious retribution before the day was done.
The rest of the Weasley clan was showing up throughout the day. First, the twins came in with a flash and bang startling Kreacher so badly that he fell backwards into the fireplace and needed putting out. Harry made sure the house elf was doing all right before telling him to take a small rest.
Bill and Charlie arrived sometime after lunch, just missing the spectacle that had been Sirius and James animating the gingerbread men to attack Remus. Ron was torn between being put out at the demise of the cookies and laughter at the sight of the werewolf prancing around the kitchen making squeaking noises of terror as the little cookies laid siege. In the end he just looked purple.
Percival was the last to arrive. Harry immediately disliked the pompous air red head put on as he stepped out of the Floo. Molly crushed the git in a death grip, sobbing into his cloak collar until Arthur had the good sense to remove her from the very pale son, whose freckles stood out starkly thanks to his mother's reaction.
Hedwig flew downstairs several times to see all the commotion for herself. She was currently resting on Harry's shoulder, nibbling on his ear and throwing reproving looks at the rest of them whenever she could. Harry was especially grateful for her company.
Ginny had grabbed the twins about an hour after Percy had shown up and was now holed up in the upstairs girls' bedroom that was emitting several loud noises and a fair share of bangs. Kreacher kept rubbing his backside and glaring up at the ceiling, muttering about those awful brats. One particularly colorful outburst caused Harry to laugh out loud, earning a glare from Ron who was helping Bill decorate the tree by stringing the popcorn garlands.
Daniel had run off to who knows where and Harry could only assume that Dumbledore or somebody had arrived to train the prick. He could have crept around trying to figure out what his brother was doing and with whom, but the fire was warm and bright. So he spent the day by the fire, reading Celestial Gaunt's book and learning more about being a Parselmouth.
Most of it was the history and the lore surrounding the magical talent. Some extinct snakes from several climates were described, their names passed down even into Muggle traditions. In the second portion, she briefly explained that Parseltongue could be used in cutting incantation-time in half, but found that this was only particularly useful in times of frustration and household upkeep. She then listed the word choices she'd used and the results for various tasks.
Harry found her spell casting methods primitive compared to what he had accomplished without any guidance. Celestial never mentioned if other Parselmouths could use it more effectively than she did. Particularly, he was worried that Voldemort knew how to do what he did with Parseltongue commands. Voldemort had to know he could cast some things because the book had been in his possession before Regulus stole it. It all depended on the faith Voldemort put in the witch's words and how much he experimented.
A hullabaloo broke out amongst the celebrating wizards as the tree was topped by a glittering fairy ornament that James had transfigured from a glass vase. Kreacher went puce with anger at the sight of his Mistress' favorite flower vase being used in such a Muggle tradition. Harry had to grab the house elf by the collar of his dirty pillowcase to stop him from taking action. Instead, he set the poor elf to making chocolate and bringing Harry a plate of Christmas biscuits.
Molly broke out her wireless and soon the voice of Myron Wagtail from Weird Sisters was filling the room. Lily and Arthur managed to create a spell that sent the sound throughout the house so that the holiday music could be heard by everyone. Following the Weird Sisters was Earl Lear singing Holly Boughs, then Lockjoint with Old Muggle Nick, and the Harebrained Centuars with Nargles in the Mistletoe.
Kreacher returned with Harry's snack and Harry accepted it gratefully. James and Sirius were making Bill and Charlie laugh with their antics, which included transforming Remus into an short artic-elf with pointy white ears and gray fur. Ron was calling up the stairs for Ginny to get down to see the disgruntled werewolf's latest fashion. Twin cracks of Apparation accompanied Fred and George's sudden appearance on top of their younger brother. He shouted at them to get off and struggled feebly under their weight, all the while turning redder.
Arthur shook his head at his children's antics and pulled his wife into a dance when her favorite singer came on the wireless. She blushed prettily and fussed with his sweater-collar before gliding into his arms. Looking at them, Harry wished Hermione was around for him to do the same with, perhaps even sneak off somewhere and snuggle.
Kreacher snorted disgustedly and disappeared with a loud pop. Harry sighed and ate a biscuit. Whatever Dumbledore had in mind for Harry this holiday wasn't working out. He was sure Dumbledore had wanted him to reconnect with his family and maybe train a little; anything to get him back under the thumb of authority, particularly one belonging to a crafty old wizard.
Harry closed his book and drank the rest of his chocolate in one gulp. The hot liquid coursed down his throat, filling his stomach with warmth. He had had enough of the cozy Christmas scene being played out before him. He was going to relocate to the library.
Harry got up and left the room easily skirting around those milling about by the tree. He jogged up the stairs with ease and was soon in front of the library. He reached his hand out to push the door open when a muffled shout came from behind it.
Pausing, Harry listened carefully for an indication of what was happening inside. He pressed his ear to the door and looked down at his shoes. He didn't have to wait long. There was another shout accompanied by a flash of spell fire under the door crack.
Was this his brother's training? Harry's heartbeat sped up and without hesitation he grabbed the doorknob and with a downward twist released the latch. He slipped through the crack and pressed his back against the door on the other side, being sure to keep himself flat. He didn't know what to expect but seeing the stacks of shelves piled against one another with nearly no room to spare in front of him was not it. Harry couldn't see a thing through them.
Cautiously he slid along the wall to the right, edging around the room. The shouts became clearer as he edged around the book stacks, spell incantations reaching his ears from two different people. One was definitely being his brother and the other sounded a lot like Snape. Harry bit back a bark of laughter at the thought of his brother having to train with the Slytherin Head of House. They would be at each other's throats in the most comical of ways.
Light started to filter through the masses of books and a few more steps revealed exactly what was going on. Snape and Daniel were on opposite sides of the room surrounded by a dueling barrier, which kept stray spellfire from harming the structure of the room and the books. And people snooping, Harry thought as he peered at the two of them prancing around and casting a lot of spells.
Not surprisingly, Daniel was doing very well for himself. He was always good against a known enemy like Malfoy or Snape. They didn't frighten him like Voldemort did. The fear was smart on his twin's part, Harry decided.
In spite of Daniel's training Harry knew immediately by watching him that the brat didn't stand a chance in a non-regulated fight. Daniel wasn't innovative. He stuck to verbal incantations and relied on his power to see him through the match.
Snape, Harry saw, knew this and was wearing Daniel down on purpose, giving him the time to say the long incantations and letting the Gryffindor zealously overpower them. While Daniel was doing that Snape kept firing his own spells wide off the mark, enticing Daniel to tire himself out. Daniel was smug, thinking he had the upper hand, and Harry could just imagine the verbal lashing Snape was going to give him at the end of this when Daniel was magically drained and physically tired.
"Lacerates Inimicus!" shouted Daniel, jabbing his wand forward with a triumphant gleam.
Snape knocked the spell away and sent back a silent hex, its only indicator, a brief flash of light when it first left the wand. Harry watched as the spell connected with his brother, flipping him up in the air and hurtling him backwards from the sheer force of impact. The potions professor stalked over to the motionless boy and he leaned over, grabbing Daniel's wand from his lax fingers, as his greasy hair fell in a curtain around his face.
"It would be advisable for you to start practicing before we meet up to continue these useless lessons of yours. I don't know what Dumbledore sees in you, because it's obvious that you lack talent, dedication and drive."
"Fuck you, slime ball," Daniel groaned, trying to sit up.
"Resorting to name calling?" Snape sneered, using his foot to push Daniel back onto the ground. "Losers
do that because they have nothing else to fall back on. Your wandwork is shoddy, you're lazy and you're slow,
and you use verbal incanting as a crutch. The Dark Lord could easily kill you."
Harry nodded in agreement from behind the stacks, watching as his brother's face turned red as his anger boiled
just beneath the surface, or from a lack of air, quite possibly both.
"Hasn't happened yet," Daniel said sourly.
"Luck eventually runs out."
"At least I don't have to resort to dark arts to win a duel."
Snape pressed down harder, shoving his weight into the Gryffindor's chest. Daniel let out an oomph of distress. "I used a silent banishment spell on you, but then you should know that, seeing as you profess to be the best in your year at Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Bastard," Daniel wheezed, trying to shove Snape off of him.
"If you are the only hope for the magical world, then it is doomed. The Dark Lord will put your head on a pike and start his crusade on the muggles. The Order will be picked off like flies," said Snape, coldly. "Your mother and father will be kept alive for his or his Death Eaters amusement; they'll be paraded about in the most degrading way imaginable and I will be there to witness it. Your ineptitude will not drag me down, Potter, it will drag all those you care for into the bleakness of your own doing and they will curse your name."
"I knew you would betray us," Daniel shouted back finally shoving Snape off of him. "You're nothing but a filthy Death Eater."
Snape laughed bitterly. "I am a spy, you ingrate imbecile. You should know that any good spy fits into the group he's working against with ease and without suspicion."
"But you just said--"
"What I said," Snape interrupted, "was no less than that the Dark Lord trusts me and if you fail, I have a foot on the winning side."
"You scheming slippery--"
"Snake?" Snape inserted dryly, tossing Daniel back his wand. "Yes, and proud of it. Now shut up and gather your things. We're done here. I have to report to Dumbledore on what a waste of time this evening was and I'd rather get it over with quickly."
The potions professor waved his wand at the corner and the foundation rune of the ward vanished. Snape pocketed his wand and strode past where the ward had been. Harry scrambled back and pressed himself deep into the shadows, as Snape stalked by, his cloak billowing out behind him as if an invisible wind blew across it.
He paused by the library door. "Do be sure to make yourself useful and set the room back to sorts." Then he was gone.
Daniel conjured a glass vase and hurled it at the wall, watching in satisfaction as it shattered. He pulled from his pocket a wrapped object and swiftly unrolled the fabric revealing a mirror. He tapped it with his wand three times and spoke Ron's name into it.
"Dan?" Ron's voice called eagerly from the mirror. "Did you do it? Did you use that spell we found on Snape? What'd it do?"
"I tried," Daniel groused querulously, running a hand through his messy hair. "But the bloody git did something to knock it out of the way."
"Oh," Ron replied, sounding disappointed. "Well how'd you do then? Did you win?"
"Yeah, of course," Daniel lied. "He tried to tell me how You-Know-Who would kick my arse, but I showed him."
"Good for you. I wish I could have seen his face when you won. That would have been bloody fantastic."
"Yeah," said Daniel, uneasily, "You should have been there. Anyway Snape left in a snit and is making me set the library back in order. He's such a sore loser."
"That bastard."
"Yeah," replied Daniel. "I'll see you shortly."
"You do that," Ron said.
Daniel wrapped the mirror again and stuck it back into his pocket. He looked irritably around the room, before muttering, "Stupid, slimy git. I'm not inadequate. I'm a right side better than he is that's for sure."
Harry pulled himself from the corner as Daniel vanished the shards. "I wouldn't be too sure about that," he said, startling his twin.
"Harry!"
"It's good to know you still remember the names of your betters. How's training working out for you? Finding that you lack the skills necessary to perform another miracle? Cause that's what you'd need, a miracle, to so much as land a spell on Voldemort."
Daniel flinched at the name, though he hid it better than usual. Harry merely raised an eyebrow as he smirked. Daniel, lacking a retort, said instead, "Why did you change your hair?"
Harry laughed. "Because I finally decided that I didn't want to add to the Boy-Who-Lived's legacy. Nobody will ever mistake my actions for yours again."
Daniel shook his head and let out air. "I don't need you to be me anymore than I needed you to come to my rescue."
"Oh really?" Harry said with great inflection. He sidled past Daniel and laughed bitterly. "Somehow I think you would be dead without me."
"I'm not useless!"
Harry scoffed. "Of course you aren't, Dan, at least not completely. "
"You and Snape!"
Harry spun around, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Me and Snape what, exactly?"
Daniel scowled. "You're both alike. Both dark and--"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Harry growled, wand drawn and ready.
"You know I'm physically and magically drained from fighting the greasy bastard, it would hardly be fair."
"Why don't you go join your adoring fan club. I'm sure Ron'll love to hear about you whipping the pants off of Professor Snape."
"At least people love me," Daniel returned acerbically.
Harry turned to stone in an instant. Something on his face warned Daniel it was not the time to gloat in victory. Daniel scrambled backwards desperate to get out of the way. Harry stalked forward, closing in on Daniel, forcing the retreating boy into the wall. With wicked glee, Harry noticed fresh beads of sweat pop out on his brother's face.
"And who's fault is that?" Harry demanded. "You deliberately diverted their attention at every opportunity and if that wasn't enough, you stole the glory in some twisted way to hold onto some ideal you built around that blasted Boy-Who-Lived title. That thing is all you have."
"You're just jealous," Daniel retorted nervously, taking a step back.
"I'm jealous," said Harry flatly, stepping back also. "Once, yeah, but never again. I'm better than you and we both know it. I won't be the pathetic forgotten twin to your daring heroic façade anymore. If I do something, I get credit for it, not you."
"Oh yeah, well…"
"Good luck trying to be me," Harry said interrupting him, turning to leave. He waved a hand and all the book shelves flew back into position. "It's a pretty tall order to fill."
Daniel laughed. "For a house elf."
Harry rolled his eyes and slipped out the door following Snape's actions and leaving Daniel to stew in the last mess Harry would clean up. He wandered down the hall and up the stairway at the end of it, making his way to the attic. He'd found out from listening in on Sirius and Molly interacting earlier that there was a hippogriff living there.
Surprising, because hippogriffs were notoriously claustrophobic. The continued good behavior was probably due to the large bags of dead rats; Molly berated Sirius for leaving around the place. Apparently she somehow always sat on them, much to her disgust and Sirius' amusement.
When he reached the top, Harry carefully pushed open the trapdoor in the ceiling and climbed through. Harry noticed right away that the attic was spacious. Not enough headroom though, he realized, standing up and finding the gap that existed from his head to the ceiling was too small for his hand.
Taking a slow look around, he spotted the hippogriff sitting in the far corner on top of a pile of moss and straw. The creature appeared happy enough, munching on a pair of rats. Its feathers were dark somber grey which made the coloring of his orange eyes exceptionally striking. .
Harry approached the hippogriff with respect, being sure not to blink even though his eyes were itching. The hippogriff looked up startled, and clicked its beak angrily. Harry paused then, taking a steep bow, keeping his eyes glued on the creature at all times.
A long time went by as the beast appraised him. His back was aching and a trickle of sweat was making its way down his spine. Harry was uncomfortable to say the least. He'd given up on the staring contest a while ago, as the animal had won. The hippogriff hadn't blinked once and Harry had soon lost count of his own uncontrollable flutters.
Eventually and stiffly, the hippogriff craned its neck and Harry exhaled in relief. Straightening, he stretched his back, cracking it in several places. He walked calmly to the hippogriff and waited until he was beside it to reach out and pet its neck feathers.
The beast was a little jumpy at first, but Harry soothed it with soft murmurs. He past a few minutes running his fingers through the layers of feathers, ruffling them before smoothing them back into place. The hippogriff started making crooning and clucking noises in the back of its throat. No, Harry mentally amended, his throat, peering down to check the creature's genitalia.
"What's your name, I wonder," Harry said quietly, stroking the beak of the male hippogriff.
The creature didn't answer, only craned his neck, pressing his beak into Harry's hand. Harry obliged him for several more minutes before stepping back and taking a seat beside the hippogriff.
He pulled out a shrunken object and waved his hand over it undoing the shrinking spell. The Parseltongue book enlarged to full in only a few seconds. He hissed hello to the two snakes on the cover before murmuring the spell to open the cover.
Flipping to the last page he had been reading, Harry continued reading the feminine script that was currently dipping into the lore of famous wizards and witches who were Parselmouths. Reading such a favorable bias put them in a good light, detailing their prowess and accomplishments; instead of berating them for being dark, Celestial praised their ability to overcome adversity and animosity to fulfill their dreams.
Of course that was a very Slytherin outtake, prizing ambition, but Harry didn't see the purpose in being recklessly ambitious. The blind struggle to be "leader" would only put an ambitious fool in the lap of somebody quite willing to extort them with promises of glory. The best of example of this being Lord Voldemort, and how he lured his followers to him. The purebloods, prejudice, inbred and impulsive, latched onto Voldemort's campaign against muggles and muggle-lovers without thinking.
Harry refused to do anything as stupid. He would not align himself with Voldemort needlessly. He had thought about the proposal, turning it over in his mind. The prize offered was something he had sought for his whole life; rising above his twin's glory, to be seen as Harry, a separate entity from his brother, but Harry would get it by his own worth, not piggybacking on the power of a wizard who would as soon kill him as look at him.
He turned the page to read on about the next wizard who's ambition was to be admired, if Gaunt had her way. On the left page was a picture of two snakes intertwined in a artful circular shape. Spiders created a border around the page and they appeared to be trying to flee to the other side. They couldn't quite manage it as when they hit the crease of the binding they were forced to turn back around. The emerald green ink used on the snakes shimmered off each of their scales. One had a red crest and the other did not. Below them was the caption: The Basilisk: King and Queen of Snakes.
Harry began looking at King Clarius' tale before doing a double take. Switching his attention back to the image, Harry goggled at the snakes. The male snake being the particular focus of his interest. Now that he was looking more closely, he noticed that the female had intense yellow eyes that glowed brighter for a few moments every now and then while the male had the sharpest green for iris color.
His breath caught in his throat. Gently, if absently, he stroked the image of the male in awe. So this was it. This was the to be the culmination of his animagus training. He was a basilisk; a magical creature whose survival now rested firmly in the hands of wizards because females abandoned their clutches of eggs, leaving their young to die. If a wizard was lucky to find such a clutch he could hide the eggs among the chicken roosts until it was ready to be incubated beneath a toad for the rest of its gestation.
Harry laughed, his head falling back against the wall. He was a king among snakes! How could he have not seen it before? All the clues had been there right from the start of that first dreadful potion. The spiders' reactions to his presence, which he had attributed to a natural fright of humans, was actually caused by the awakening of the basilisk inside of him, their most hated of enemies.
The second potion should have tipped him off when the first one didn't. The coldness was natural to that of a reptile seeking heat. The size of the skin should have alerted him even more. He had fought a basilisk for Merlin's sake! He should have known! It had to have been the red stripe of hair he had acquired-- the crest of the male basilisk. That had confused him on many levels that he overlooked the obvious, even when it was staring him in the face.
And that voice in his mind told him he was death? He hadn't believed it! That was then though, he couldn't very well ignore it now could he? He was death, in the most ruthless of ways. A single glance of his gaze upon a living soul and, instantly, they were dead. Faster then a killing curse, if he thought on it. His glares, scowls, and glowers could actually kill now.
Suddenly, Harry was worried. If the crest could cross over into his human form, could the gaze somehow transfer too? What would that mean for him? Would he be able to control it or would he have to blind himself around people to protect them; to protect Hermione? How could he tell her about this? She would think he was a dark wizard!
Harry was startled out of his train of thought by a nudge from the hippogriff. He patted the beast calmly, despite the wild thoughts running through his head and marveled at his life with a kind of detached bemusement. How many wizards could claim at seventeen to be two-thirds of the way through training to be an animagus? How many animagi in the history of animagi transformations could lay claim to a magical creature let alone being king of a genus? How many Parselmouths could claim being the king of serpents, the basilisk? Maybe one in the lowest of odds.
He was unique, but not in a way most wizards would clap him on the back and brag heedlessly about. No, he was to be feared if this got out. It wasn't a question of whether proceeding worth it, it was, but more about the consequences he should expect. There were bound to be consequences that even he couldn't anticipate, like the hair, which would crop up.
"Harry?" came a voice, startling Harry so badly he jumped. "Harry," Professor Dumbledore called again, climbing fully into the room.
"Headmaster?" Harry said, clearing his throat. "What are you doing up here?"
"Looking for you, of course. What are you doing up here all by yourself? I would have thought you would be downstairs with your family."
Harry shrugged. "They seemed to have it covered."
"They would want you downstairs for more than decorating, my dear boy," Dumbledore chuckled, sweeping his beard over his shoulder and approaching the duo.
Harry shrugged again, running a hand through his hair and hiding the book beneath the straw nearest him as Dumbledore bowed to the hippogriff. "It was a little rambunctious," he said when the Headmaster looked up, eyes twinkling.
"Quite. I found it a little chaotic myself what with your father and Sirius competing against Fred and George for the best prank of the evening."
Harry watched the Headmaster stroke the underside of the hippogriff's beak. He waited for the headmaster to elaborate, saying nothing.
"I had to ask Kreacher where you were," Dumbledore stated inattentively, continuing to pet the grey beast. "Funny that your family and friends couldn't point out where you were. You shouldn't slip off like that Harry, people will worry."
Harry scoffed at that, wrapping his arms around his knees. Dumbledore glanced down at him frowning.
"People do worry," Dumbledore said, watching Harry.
"Then why are you here and not mum or dad?" Harry asked pointedly, meeting his gaze brashly before looking away.
Dumbledore grimaced. "Yes, well. We all would love it if you would come downstairs, Harry. After all this is the time of year for celebrating with family and loved ones."
"Fine," said Harry, standing up. "I'll go down."
Dumbledore beamed. "That's the spirit. Now why don't you tell me what you've been up to so far this holiday?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "A bit of cleaning and reading," he said.
He walked in front of the Headmaster and headed down the trapdoor first. Dumbledore clambered down after him and followed him to the common room. Downstairs Harry joined the others, taking an eggnog proffered by Kreacher and proceeded to stand around and wait. Dumbledore had taken his eggnog with a splash of firewhiskey and currently fire was fizzing out of his ears.
With nothing to do, Harry sat down in the only empty chair in the room. At first he waited for somebody to come and chat with him in this farce of concern. When none came he merely snorted into his drink. While the others were laughing and partying he ignored what was going on around him, staring off into space, a tiny smile of pleasure of his face.
º«««º»»»ºEnd Chapter 27º«««º»»»º