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Left Behind	By : Jim_Ohki Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Het - Male/Female Views: 10712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other series referenced within. Expanded disclaimer inside.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

Left Behind Part One

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

The back-story:

In the year nine twenty, four of the Alteran people descended –on orders and with the blessings of the Others- from the plane of existence that their race had called home for millennia. These four had been watching the children of their people as tales of their origins faded into legend and were eventually lost to time, opening the door for corruption to take hold in their minds. The Children of Altera began to dream of using their powers, dubbed ‘Magic’ centuries previous as many of the original teachings were also lost, to conquer and enslave not only their own kind but those that hadn’t been ‘Touched’ upon the Alteran’s return from Atlantis.

The collective People had long since set down a rule about “Not interfering in the growth of a younger race”, however what their children’s many times over children were doing threatened them in a way they had experienced only once before: when the religious sect broke off from them and became the Ori. If the Children ever figured out Ascension to their plane they could conceivably open the way for their long lost brethren to enter the Milky Way which could lead to the destruction of all.

That situation, hypothetical as it was, was not acceptable in the least.

For the first time since Atlantis itself had left Terra, the People consented to four volunteers –that, after much debate and consideration were deemed trustworthy enough- returning to their last Home-world and try to correct the path their Children were on.

These four studied everything they could from the political climate of Britannia and Eurasia to what passed for ‘acceptable teachings’ from the Church to the everyday life of the populace be they Royalty or Commoner. They learned the naming customs of the time and selected identifiers that were, for the locals, just the other side of outlandish.

One of the men -of considerable height for the timeframe of human civilization- chose the name Godric Gryffindor. He towered over almost all right at two meters –six foot six inches- with hair the color of obsidian and piercing green eyes.

The other man, nearly as tall as his compatriot, elected to be called Salazar Slytherin. He was only a tenth of a meter shorter –six foot three inches- and chose to have dark as midnight hair and eyes.

The first of two women –which was a rare endeavor in the world as it stood- decided on Rowena Ravenclaw as her name. Her hair was brunette, cascading down her back midway to her backside in waves while her eyes were the color of rich chocolate. Deciding to blend in a little better than her male companions she was one point six meters –five foot two (and a half!) inches- tall and had a curvy –not plump, more akin to busty- figure.

The other woman, last of the four, had a bit of a hard time in choosing her name. Eventually she decided on Helga Hufflepuff, with her sun-kissed blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. While her figure was comparable to Rowena’s, her height was between the brunette and Salazar at one point eight meters –five foot nine inches.

The four were allowed to descend with their memories and minds untouched, with restrictions naturally. They could only use their knowledge, and powers, in guiding their wayward Children back onto the path of least violence. They could also build, using the same techniques that gave birth to Atlantis –even without the star-drive or hyper-drive let alone the weapons-, a bastion to educate the young; a place where tolerance was held in higher esteem than power. There were many things they couldn’t do, even knowing the consequences of failure such as telling the Children of their true origins nor teaching of Ascension.

The school, Hogwarts, opened in nine forty after twenty years of construction and resource gathering. While it had the appearance of a castle of the time it was anything but. The four, in as inconspicuous a manner as they could, did build in Transporters and energy-based weapons that were standard on satellites for defense. They had thought to include an anti-gravity/repulsor engine in the event that the school ever needed to relocate but were warned off by the Others. They were also well aware that their time was limited and would eventually be recalled to the Higher Plane.

What they, nor the People, never factored in was that by being in a human body they felt emotions again. It came as a shock to the People when Godric/Rowena and Salazar/Helga had their first children, true born Alterans, in the year nine fifty-one. The four continued to have children, each birth spaced appropriately for the time they were operating in. By the time nine seventy-two rolled around the first ones were entering school, their younger siblings would be arriving in five years and their parents were providing even younger siblings yet. Each birth was always fraternal twins, one boy and one girl.

The People finally put their foot down at three children for each name, knowing that anymore and the system they were having success building wouldn’t stand up to people with higher powers than their own. Many of the Others were looking into the future to see what would happen with True Children running amok; what they found was heartbreak.

The eldest Ravenclaw daughter would be killed in a few years –at the tender age of seventeen- by the eldest Slytherin son who would eventually commit suicide in his grief. The second Slytherin would go mad after his wife and unborn son were killed by the Mundane humans five years after his older brother’s death and eventually fall to his father after ruining the name Slytherin. The third, ashamed at his brother’s behavior, would change his family name to Gaunt. While he would honor his father he wanted much of nothing to do with the legacy his brothers were leaving behind.

The second Ravenclaw daughter wouldn’t enter Magical Society for her powers would never manifest. She would eventually make her way in the Mundane world, starting a line that would eventually be known as Evans while an offshoot from her second daughter would become Granger. The third daughter, never knowing much of her elder sisters, would spend her life in the Castle of Hogwarts and never know love.

The daughters of Helga, the two eldest having daughters beforehand –the younger being the first Lovegood-, would be betrayed by a Frenchman by the name of Malfoi during one of his power-play’s in an effort to get a foot into the Isles. In return for his betrayal he, and in conjunction his line, would be cursed by the three as they died to forever take on characteristics of their most hated –and feared, after a bad encounter- Creature: Veela.

The sons of Godric would lead the best life out of all of the children. The eldest would make a name for himself in the Court and the Battlefield before settling down with a daughter of the Peverell family. He would also change his name to Potter to avoid his enemies. The second would fall in battle near the end of his service while the third would follow his eldest brother in changing his name after marriage to become the first Longbottom.

The People didn’t look any further, believing that the Children of the Four wouldn’t be around long enough to cause too many problems for the rest of the world. This shortsightedness had the potential to come back to haunt them, especially as the eldest granddaughter of Helga married into the Potter line shortly before a great-granddaughter of Salazar. The descendant of the second Ravenclaw daughter would eventually join said line, giving birth to an Heir of the Four.

The Magical Society had stabilized by nine ninety and were no longer on the path to total destruction of everything the Alteran’s were trying to accomplish. In the year ten oh-three the Founders of Hogwarts were recalled.

They watched as life continued for Earth; the Society that could have destroyed them instead found itself in danger from their Mundane neighbors. It would take almost another six hundred years –various uprisings, changes in who Ruled, changes in belief and whatnot- before the Magicals went into complete isolation. For a time, They even stopped paying any attention to the goings on for the rest of Earth.

Then the People got a rather nasty surprise in nineteen twenty-seven when Tom Marvolo Riddle was born, one year to the day before the Stargate would be found in Giza. His birth was very unwelcome for while his mother’s line had long since forgotten their origins the infusion of fresh DNA created –against all odds and logic- the first partial-Ascended at birth in history. He had almost total control of his powers from the age of five and a very keen mind that could process information almost as fast as the AI on Atlantis. He knew, deep down, that it was supposed to be those with the Power that ruled.

In late nineteen forty-three he did something that alarmed the People. While in the halls of Hogwarts, which fortunately didn’t recognize him as an Heir due to the lack of the other Heirs being present, he discovered a bastardized version of Ascension: he committed his first murder and split his soul. From the death of Myrtle he not only made a most vile device that kept his soul on the Mortal Plane; for the briefest of moments –more than enough to enter the communal mind- he connected to the People.

The Ori, on the other side of the cosmos, felt the incursion but were baffled by the presence they could detect. It was far more . . . twisted than any Ascended before him; even Anubis didn’t have a vibe quite like this which caused them to stay their hand.

It took but a thought for the communal mind of the Others to push young Riddle out; however by the time they’d had the thought he’d gleaned enough knowledge to either “rediscover” old magic or “create” something new. All of that from their understanding of the energies of the Cosmos and how to manipulate them to their own desires.

Shortly after graduating in nineteen forty-five Riddle seemingly dropped off the face of the universe for not even the People could see what he was doing. It didn’t take long for them to understand that his incursion the year before had born more fruit than they’d suspected; they knew of many ways to hide from the Higher Plane and, as such, so did he.

Twenty-five years passed, and the People watched as the Society they’d thought they’d saved crumbled; it had been in a steady decline for centuries but then that decline suddenly accelerated. In the Earth year nineteen seventy Tom Riddle crawled out of whichever place he’d been hiding; within a year three thousand of the Children were dead. Five years saw that figure climb to near ten thousand. Everything the People had sought to save looked to be on the edge of the Abyss.

Then surprise number two –a much better one in their opinion- appeared July thirty-first of nineteen eighty in the form of Harry James Potter. When he was born the People for the first time in a few million years give or take were stunned silent. The babe shone like a beacon in the Abyss; when the People traced his lineage they were filled with joy –and not a little trepidation- at the fact that a Child of the Four had been born almost a thousand years after their recall. Young Potter was also brought into the world of the living as a partial-Ascended; however where Riddle had been just a glance out of the corner of the eye Harry was staring at the spot for a hour or two in concentration.

Even while his parents went into hiding, Harry’s mind and powers grew at an exponential rate never before seen. By the age of one he, even while unable to formulate words into modern sentence structure, had full control over his power. Lily and James were speechless at the fact that unless they warded an area/room into a Null Zone Harry would and more often than not did whatever he wanted. One day in August of eighty-one young Harry was mad at his father for being stuck in the playpen and promptly changed the man into a Smurf, complete with squeaky voice.

Sirius Black thought it was hilarious until Harry changed his godfather into Smurfette. Remus Lupin demonstrated why he was the brains behind the Marauders when he fled the house after one of his rare visits. Peter Pettigrew had learned long before hand to avoid Harry for whenever the two were within range there was usually copious amounts of fire, projectile vomit or even the ultra-gross freshly filled nappy being Banished from babe to rat-man . . . in the face to boot. Right nasty things would go down between the two and nobody else could figure out why Harry acted the way he did to Peter.

The People watched from on high as time continued then found reason to collectively ‘hold their breath’ on October thirty-first of nineteen eighty-one.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, under the silly moniker of Lord Voldemort, met Harry James Potter for the first time. Observing the parents of the toddler protecting him from a Child from one of their own, far outclassed due to the knowledge he had and his understanding of it, they came to a consensus in Ascending them as they had their lives unfairly cut short. Others were well aware that this was setting a precedent in that those deemed worthy enough would be Ascended –not a subject taken lightly after the debacle that was Anubis- and were not happy with it.

While having their mental debate –after Ascending James Potter- they watched as Lily did something even they feared to do.

She set a protection on her son that would guarantee the People couldn’t assist in Ascending her for her very essence would be damaged beyond repair if not outright destroyed. The one known as Albus Dumbledore had assumed that Lily made a Blood Ward; his error was that he assumed. Knowing that the only protection strong enough from her research of Old Magic would require her to sacrifice her very soul she set a Soul Ward in place moments before Voldemort entered the room.

After their banter –which in reality was Riddle being himself and taunting an opponent into doing what he wanted- he inadvertently finished what the young mother had started when he killed her.

The People, once again finding themselves stunned –and not overly liking the feeling-, watched as young Harry uttered not a peep in the face of Death; he didn’t understand exactly what was going on but from the way ‘Mama’ wasn’t moving he instinctively knew she was gone.

Riddle thought it’d be easy to kill a toddler. He was sadly mistaken for when the lad’s eyebrows furrowed he was suddenly on the defensive from a veritable rainbow of magic being sent in his direction. Old, New, Lost, Undiscovered, Alteran it mattered not for young Harry was angry and was going to make his displeasure known.

Then he spied Peter peeking into the room.

That distraction was all that Voldemort needed to finally get off an Avada Kedavra.

The Universe, for the briefest amount of time, seemed to shake when the death curse hit Harry in the head above his right eye.

The Alterans, their long separated brethren Ori along with their ‘arm’ the Priors, the Asgard, the Nox, the Wraith; each race in tune with the energies of all or had the ability to measure it blinked owlishly in surprise that such an event could happen even if they couldn’t pinpoint the origin of it.

The People were temporarily blinded to the goings on in Godric’s Hollow as the Soul Ward combined with the tap Harry had with the Ascended Plane flooded the area with power. When they could see again they were shocked –a feeling that they were having to quickly become accustomed to after so many millennia without.

The cottage was heavily damaged; the entire roof was vaporized along with the two walls on the second floor that represented the corner were Harry’s room was. Other debris were raining down on the hamlet even as Peter Pettigrew fled into the night with his Master’s wand. They could see what was left of Voldemort’s Soul being flung onto the continent while silently screaming in agony.

Harry himself was barely conscious from the insane amount of energy in its raw, unshaped form pouring through his system. The side effects of this event were a loss of control as the channels had been forcibly expanded to a depleted reserve as his core-size tripled and his link to the Higher Plane was disrupted by the Killing Curse.

Time continued on, even as the Ascended known as James Potter wept for the loss of his wife. The entire Plane was now paying attention to young Harry as first Sirius then Hagrid arrived at the cottage. When the name Albus Dumbledore entered the conversation they decided to go have a look into his mind to see what he would do with a True Child.

The Headmaster of their last attempt to save their Children was a good man that had lost his way, being mired too much within the political swamp of corruption both at home and the International arena. That corruption had worked its way into Dumbledore’s modus operandi and because of how revered he was nobody would call him out on it.

The first thing he did when Hagrid arrived at Hogwarts was have the Matron Pomfrey do a full evaluation of young Harry. The poor woman nearly fell down on more than one occasion as the damage from the overload was uncovered. Her scans of the Scar oddly came back as inconclusive, and even everything Dumbledore threw at it said the same thing.

The energy that had flowed through his system prevented Harry from becoming a Horcrux. What the pair were reading was the Higher Plane itself –interspersed with the remnant of Lily Potter’s soul- which got the attention of the People for it should’ve been physically impossible for a Magic user to detect them.

Then Albus Dumbledore made the second greatest mistake of his rather long life: he, in conference with Poppy, applied Bindings to Harry’s magic system –core, conduits, the whole thing. It was meant to be for healing purposes only so that the patient couldn’t use magic -unless they really forced it- to allow the pathways time to stabilize and strengthen. By no means was this a long term fix; these particular Bindings were to be removed after no longer than six months.

Seeing as Harry wouldn’t be displaying any magic unless rather bothered, Dumbledore decided that the sister of Lily Potter was the best place for the boy to go to grow. He’d make certain to leave notice with Petunia –he already knew where she was as a precaution incase of just this event which claimed the life of James and Lily- that he was ‘normal as can be’ under the circumstances and should be treated like family.

The People watched as the Headmaster left the school to go to Little Whinging to construct the Blood Wards he was fairly certain Lily had used to protect Harry. In the back of his mind he shuddered at the thought of a Soul Ward being employed but dismissed it as fiction for the setup of those Wards was lost to time. Putting the Blood Wards up took most of the night into the early morning hours of November first.

That night, twenty-four hours after his parents died, young Harry was dropped off on the front step of the Dursley residence along with the letter from Dumbledore explaining everything he felt they needed to know.

Nobody from the Magical Society bar Arabella Figg would have an idea as to the true conditions in which Harry Potter grew up in for the next decade.

It took a surprising amount of power to keep James Potter on the Ascended Plane for he was frothing rather badly at the mouth at the way in which his son was treated. The Four that were the Founders had taken the younger being under wing, teaching him many things even though he could never use them on the Mortal Plane. They too were aggravated at the way their descendant was being raised but they, unlike James, understood the Rules of Noninterference.

Eleven and a half years passed rather quickly.

April 26, 1993; Hogwarts; Seventh Floor near Gryffindor Tower

Harry Potter was in the upper floors of the Castle three days after Hermione had been petrified by Slytherin’s Beast. Now, more than ever, he felt alone for one friend was in the Hospital Wing and the other . . .

Ron Weasley had begun to believe the rumors about Harry being the Heir, no matter what he said or did. Having decided to leave the ginger alone to cool off and maybe –just maybe for once in the almost two years he’d known the youngest Weasley boy- he’d apply his brain before his mouth. Of course, by the time that might happen the damage would already be done. Even the timid Neville Longbottom had been starting to avoid Harry for if Ron wanted nothing to do with him . . . the whole situation was just frustrating.

There were many in the school that had at first been believing of those rumors; after his best female friend had been found near the Library with Penelope Clearwater and most having seen him down near the Quidditch Pitch at the time had changed their minds. Just as many, however, that had either been on the fence about the issue or in Harry’s camp –such as Ron- had gone the other way. Some of those got a laugh out of the second youngest Weasley shunning the Boy-Who-Lived; others that took the time to look could see how lost, vulnerable and angry Potter was at the situation.

Not for the first time in his life, he retreated when the going got really tough. This was a nasty ingrained habit by his relatives; alongside never having much contact with anybody his own age thanks to the efforts of Dudley made making friends difficult at best.

None of that mattered at the moment as his mind was occupied with the fact that Hermione –and Penelope, not that he’d had much contact with the Ravenclaw Prefect- with her amazing intellect and bossy attitude was for all intents and purposes a statue on a bed. He was completely lost without her to the point he had no idea what to do next; if he should even bother doing anything at all or if he did where to begin.

‘What I need is information on the Founders as a whole,’ he thought, ‘because this is supposed to be Slytherin’s Monster or whatever. There’s got to be something on either him or the Four as a group somewhere. But where?’ His wandering came to a halt before he started pacing the hallway he was in, seeing a tapestry out of the corner of his eye of some fool trying to teach trolls how to dance ballet.

‘Information . . . Founders . . . I need information on the Founders,’ repeated like a mantra in his mind. His musings were interrupted by the sound of stone grinding on stone, making his head jerk to the wall opposite the rather odd tapestry. A door that hadn’t been there before pushed its way out of the stonework, earning a raised eyebrow in response before he shrugged and decided to explore the new room if for no other reason than to break the monotony.

It was a split second decision by the five watching from the Higher Plane, knowing that the Others might very well object however something had to be done to help the child and if at all possible correct the course Tom Riddle had sent their Children on.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the strangest scene to date for there were five glowing beings in the otherwise bare room. It was difficult at first to see their faces for the light their formless bodies were producing but once his eyes adjusted he nearly fainted from shock.

Imagery from the late-tenth early-eleventh century was very hard to come by due to the Dark Ages in which many drawings, paintings and the like were lost. However, that was outside of the Castle for inside a few statues had survived the time since the Founders. It took Harry’s mind a few minutes to realize that yes, he was looking at those very Founders themselves.

The fifth being’s face became visible and young Potter nearly lost all emotional control he had. Everybody, especially Snape, had always gone on and on about how he was a clone of his father. Now it appeared that, however the method for whatever reason, said father was back from the beyond.

“Easy there lad,” came from the face of Gryffindor, even as his ethereal body settled onto the floor. His companions did the same, looking for the world like they were having a seat so that they could talk to the child in front of them.

“Da?” was the only thing Harry could force out of his constricted throat as his eyes watered. He did notice that his mother was nowhere to be seen and a part of his mind wondered just where she was.

“Hello Harry,” James Potter wanted nothing more at that point in time than to be able to hug his son after so long.

The People watched the reunion of father and son; one of the few they’d allowed in just about as many years as they’d been Ascended. While they may have shed their emotions by moving onto the Higher Plane even they knew that the young man needed a break of some kind for they too had seen his life up to that point. It was unspoken that their hopes for their descendants were pinned on this child that hadn’t even reached his teens.

For the first time since Tom Riddle met Harry Potter their breath was collectively held for they had no idea what would happen if a partial-Ascended came into contact with one of their own let alone the one that had been his father in life. They didn’t need to wait long as Harry tried to hug his father to release his bottled up emotions.

When father and son touched, their minds connected. Harry became aware of everything his father had done in life and most of the afterlife having bled through in surprise. He had already known that the Four in the room were the Founders but seeing what his father had been taught by them cemented the idea. The connection didn’t last long before he turned on the one that had been called Slytherin on the Mortal Plane.

“You imbecile!” he thundered, arms waving in aggravation and surprising the others with his outburst. “What the bloody devil was your bollixed mind thinking leaving some sort of beast under the school?! I’d heard that you were mad but this takes the cake, eats it then shits it right back out!”

“Oh damn it . . .” Salazar face-palmed, head shaking side to side in denial. “That bloody boy of mine! I knew I should’ve paid more attention to what he was doing when his older brother died!”

“Wait, what?” Harry was now lost, arms frozen in mid-gyration making him look rather silly.

“Ah, the impetuousness of youth strikes again,” Godric was trying to sound sage-like which fell flat; he gave it up as a bad job. “I am more than aware that there’s very little accessible information on us in these times but surely you had some idea as to our character did you not?”

“No I didn’t,” Harry admitted, “which is why I was pacing around trying to think of where I could get that information when a door appeared in the wall. Oh, and don’t call me Shirley.”

“Oh, a joker are you?” Helga leaned in, almost coming in nose to nose with the preteen. Her stare would make the Imperious Hermione look appear tame in comparison.

“Uh . . .,” damn it all the one time he tries to be funny!

That broke the look as Helga began laughing along with the others in the room. It was something that was needed all the way around to relieve some stress and break the ice as it were.

“Right,” Salazar got his mirth under control after a few moments, “I am aware of the Chamber under the school. Its original purpose was a command center in case of Mundane attack and it gave us a back door out of the building if we ever needed it. My second son went ‘round the twist as you say after his wife and unborn child were killed by Mundane just after graduating from Hogwarts. He went on a rampage, slaughtering all but those he deemed worthy which were Pure-bloods by current vernacular. He had returned here for a time, claiming to be over his rage but instead delved into the Dark. Now, before you get all Light/Dark on me you must understand: the power each of you can use is neither. It is all in the intent of the user, the effects of some that came into being over time can be classified but most are not. Now, when I say Dark I mean Death Magic as a whole; Necromancy, Soul Shredding, Soul Destruction, Impure Resurrection and the like. For five years I made the mistake of leaving him unchecked in the school; in that time he spawned a Basilisk and put it in the Chamber. I finally had to put my foot down after we lost thirteen First Born to his experimentation and feeding of his pet.”

“Basilisk . . . instant death if looking into the eyes . . . reflections!” Harry had been talking to himself, verbalizing his thoughts as he went proving that there was intelligence in that shell he showed the rest of the world. “Hmmm . . . Parseltongue . . . not wanting death while wanting death . . . what am I missing?”

James Potter grinned like a loon for that was all Lily right there. Even after everything her wretched sister, husband and son had done to his boy he could still figure out the problem on minimal information.

“And your grades are not spectacular because . . .?” Rowena finally entered the conversation, making Harry jump in surprise because he truthfully had forgotten that they were there.

“That’s the other issue, isn’t it?” he caught the five off-guard with that question and it showed. “My connection to the Plane being damaged coupled with Dumbledore’s Bindings and the Dursley’s not wanting me to make anything of myself. Da and I did connect, you know . . .”

“The Others will not like this at all,” Godric’s voice had become grave.

“The Others shouldn’t interfere, in part, due to Tom Riddle still running amok,” Harry countered, turning to look at each in the eye. He was aware of the People from his father and the connection they shared. “I’m not sure what it would mean to them but, if as you speculate the Ori –whoever they are- have been paying any attention whatsoever then eventually they’ll get a Child of their own. That’d be bad enough if Riddle wasn’t still around to make things even worse let alone that Anubis fellow.”

He might have just as well punched more than a few Ascended in the proverbial junk before pissing downrange on a few more. If there was one thing they really hated it was having their errors thrown back into their faces; which happened more often than not just before the mass Ascension due to the Galactic Plague.

“Look,” he continued after a moment, “I can agree to most of the Noninterference terms as there’s not a chance in hell humanity is ready for what’s out there. Truthfully, learning what I did from Da is scaring the ever-loving shite out of me but I’ll deal with it. But I have my own issues to deal with first: the most immediate is finding and killing that ruddy snake. Eventually I’m going to face-off with Riddle again and I’d like to be at full potential when I do. To do that the Binding’s have to go which means a wonderful trip into Pomfrey’s lair. Then I’m going to have to really buckle down and learn true energy manipulation much like Tom. It gets even better for I also need to relearn everything I already knew about that subject before an AK was bounced off of my head.”

The five beings looked at each other, silently communicating that perhaps this was indeed the best chance to fix the connection to the Higher Plane. They weren’t very surprised when the Others made a decision, it was the verdict that caught them off guard.

“We agree.”

Objectively, what they were doing was interference of the highest order. The only thing that separated Harry from the rest of the humans was his ancestry –which he shared a part of with Riddle, not that he’d know- and the fact that all that they were doing was fixing what had been established before the two met in eighty-one. Everything else from that point on would be all on Harry himself to get done, meaning that he had to do the work himself.

The People could live with that arrangement.

Outside of the Room –a much better identifier since it could be many rooms, even those not truly required by the user at the time- the populace of Hogwarts was heading into the Great Hall for dinner. Word of mouth from the Second Year Gryffindors was that Harry had disappeared just after lunch and missed his afternoon classes. The staff looked especially worried since that behavior from him was unprecedented; the speculation that perhaps the Beast had gotten him was running rampant.

The Headmaster had many things running through his mind while at the Staff Table in his usual chair. With the latest attack on Miss’ Granger and Clearwater the Board was getting rather fidgety in regards to safety of the students. The more Elitist/Extremist were beginning to vocalize that it was just a matter of time before whomever was going after the Muggle-born went after either the Half-Bloods or even the Pure-Bloods and that it might be a good idea to close the school for the term.

The part of him that was the educator rebelled at such an idea as would anything that would harm the learning process of his students. The part that was the Headmaster though was in agreement with the Board for unless the attacker was caught and/or one of the children died the reputation of Hogwarts as a whole would be ruined. Then there was the politician side that was warring with the other two, trying to find a way to spin this to appease all sides without having to take what it saw as drastic measures.

Truly there were times when it absolutely sucked to be Albus Dumbledore. The events at Hogwarts over the year –don’t even mention the year previous- were proving that statement day in and day out. He knew, in the place in his mind were mutinous thoughts were kept, that he had been stretched entirely too thin doing too many jobs at once. Every time the idea of retirement from either the International or Wizengamot arenas surfaced some disaster or another would reel him back in. The populace as a whole were no help as they constantly put pressure on him to solve their problems for them and then not even thank him for his efforts.

His mind may have been occupied but that didn’t stop him from noticing the fact that Hogwarts seemed to come to life for no apparent reason. The ward-scheme, built after the Founders had died for few could operate the built-in defenses to their maximum capacity, stayed intact while what could only be the original scheme became active. Nobody else in the Hall was aware of the changes at first until several suits of armor marched in taking up guard stations at the ends of each table.

Matron Pomfrey came running into the Hall, having been supervising her patients in the Hospital Wing, making a bee-line for the Staff Table and the Headmaster beyond.

“Albus, there’s armor moving all over the Castle!” she reported once she was within range so as not to shout. “A dozen set up shop in the Infirmary and I saw several squadrons worth moving all over the place. Some of the animated armor I’ve never seen before and having been in the Castle for forty years I like to believe I know every piece there is.”

“There you are,” came the voice of Harry Potter moments before he strode into the Great Hall, flanked by a pair of fierce-looking animated statues. “Madam Pomfrey, I have a rather strange request of you: check my system for Bindings.” He looked around, noticing the faces of everybody looking at him before amending his statement. “Please.”

Yes, it never pays to be rude to the Healer –especially if she was well aware of her Muggle counterparts and their usage of needles.

There were several factors into the staring that was occurring, first being that Harry had been missing in action for half a day; second being his apparent guard that nobody else had; third being his request that came across as a demand. Of course, Severus Snape couldn’t let any supposed (or factual, for that matter) transgression involving the son of his nemesis go.

“Potter, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded without raising his voice, sneer set to maximum. What he didn’t count on was the armor at his end of the table punching him in the face in retaliation.

“Odd, I was just thinking of that,” Harry looked at the armor askew, like it was a foreign life-form to be studied. “Note to self, give the armor verbal orders until used to their behavior.”

Snape leapt back onto his feet, holding his broken nose trying to staunch the blood with his right hand and his wand in his left. The armor didn’t take to kindly to the drawn wand and socked the Potions Master in the face again sending him back to the floor. The students and staff watched as Severus Snape was getting his ass handed to him by an animated armor, generating more than a few laughs.

“What do you mean?” Pomfrey sounded lost which any person that had ever been under her care could say was a rare occurrence.

“The Binding’s you and Dumbledore put on me in eighty-one,” Harry looked at her like she’d lost her marbles.

Said Headmaster sucked in his breath. In the fallout of the demise of Voldemort he’d completely forgotten about that. He’d had Ministries near and far harping on him about Dark Lords and their followers moving about unchecked and that he had to do something about it.

“How do you know about that?” the Matron wondered while waving her wand in intricate patterns from head to toe, forgetting where they were.

“How to answer that . . .,” Harry became lost in thought, even as the armor near Snape punched the Potions Master in the face yet again for trying to speak. “Well, hmmm. Err- ah! Okay, the best way to explain this is that what you feared happened to me didn’t, Dumbledore. That rather barmy idea you discarded? Yes, she did. As to how I know all this . . . the next Great Adventure told me.”

The Headmaster looked like he’d been gut-checked. While everybody else was confused by the purposely vague half-answer he felt like a complete tool. Soul Ward! Damn it Lily, that’s some seriously Dark magic! Yet, it seems to have served a much higher purpose if it actually kept Harry alive and prevented him from becoming a Horcrux. Next Great . . .? Somebody from beyond told him . . . ah! Most likely his father . . . but how?

“Right,” Pomfrey sounded like she didn’t believe a word that just came out of Harry’s mouth. “This might hurt so brace yourself.”

Her muttering ended with a sharp jab of her wand. She was amazed that he’d been able to perform magic as he did for the Binding was eleven years beyond removal date. Quite the contrary, if he’d waited even a day longer it would’ve become permanent which would have really messed with his flows.

To the observers in the Hall, Harry folded forward in pain before somebody turned on a tornado indoors. His magic lashed out uncontrollably, sweeping the dinnerware off of the tables and slamming the doors shut. The pressure from the wind made it impossible to reopen them, causing the students to take shelter under their tables.

Dumbledore swung into action, Banishing everything he could that was loose into the kitchens to prevent injury as a steak knife punched almost clean through the Ravenclaw table. He ducked a fork which embedded itself into the wall behind him after going through his chair.

The armor and statues were surprisingly unaffected, standing stock still and undisturbed by the extreme winds, even if one of the armor lost its helmet to a plate turned guillotine.

As sudden as the two hundred mile an hour winds came they stopped, leaving a deafening silence in its wake that was interrupted by the occasional object hitting the floor.

“Ouch,” Harry grunted before the sheer volume of his voice brought the silence to his notice. Taking note of the destruction, scared First Years and whimpering going on around him caused him to speak. “Right, everybody okay?”

“No we are bloody well not!” thundered Draco Malfoy, eyes popping out of his face. “What the hell was that?!”

“That, Mister Malfoy,” Pomfrey slurred as she wobbled her way back to the Staff Table not noticing blood flowing from a wound on the left side of her head, “was the result of binding a release years . . . oh!”

Harry, being upright and mobile, caught the Matron as she collapsed. Seeing her go down did not help the morale in the Hall as those that were hurt found their voice causing a cacophony of sound that was just as quickly silenced as the students were treated to something new.

He didn’t know what he was doing, instead operating on instinct as his magic flared from his right hand before he brought it up to her wound. He willed her healed in front of the student body, even those that had lost their faith in him and within moments she was upright under her own power again. Once Harry was done with her he and Pomfrey moved amongst the masses treating those that needed it.

Between the two they got the others that were physically hurt –nothing short of Potions or a trip to a Mind Healer would help those mentally scarred- taken care of in twenty minutes. Pomfrey turned out to be the worst injury, which was a relief to Harry as the destruction of the Great Hall was unintentional.

The Headmaster looked like a fish out of water as young Potter appeared to be everywhere at once, healing his fellow students with unheard of magic. Briefly he turned to look at the fork that had almost taken his head off, still vibrating embedded in the wall.

“Where was I?” Pomfrey started speaking again after the last of the injured were seen to. “Right, Binding’s. What you all just witnessed is the result of releasing a Binding after eleven years. Really, I should have done that outside.”

Those raised in a Magical Household knew of Binding’s, having been threatened with them from time-to-time by angered parents/relatives. To know now that Potter had such a Binding on his magic and that he still ranked in the top ten of his Year really got their attention.

“Now that we’re sorted out here,” Harry turned to look at Ginny Weasley, whom was looking a little panicky from the fierce glare. “I want the Diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and I want it now. I know you have it and have been using it for going on a year.”

Dumbledore strode over to the only Weasley girl and looked at her over his half-moon glasses. How did nobody notice the signs of possession? Even now, pierced under his gaze she appeared to be fighting the urge to flee. Using Harry as a distraction, even if she tensed in preparation for flight, he waved his wand in various patterns breaking a Compulsion Charm on her. Once the charm shattered she quickly reached into her ever-present bag and literally threw the book at the one that demanded it.

“Such a naughty boy Tom,” Harry wagged his right index finger at the book after it flopped open on the floor. “Right, let’s see what we have here.”

The population of Hogwarts that had been in the Great Hall watched as his left arm disappeared into the pages. His tongue poked out the right side of his mouth as he rummaged around, searching for something before giving a mighty “Ah-ha!”

As he drew his arm out, a specter of a teenage boy dressed in Slytherin robes followed being pulled by his hair. The apparition looked confused as to how it was drawn out of the diary, taking in the audience that bore witness to the goings-on.

“Tom, hello; hello, Tom!” Harry greeted the less-than-a-ghost jovially, like an old friend reconnecting with another. Then his visage darkened, before dropping the bomb on the population. “Or should I say, hello Voldemort? I can never seem to get it right with you, being that you are a walking contradiction.”

“So, you know who I am?” the sixteen year old version of the Dark Lord settled in for a conversation, wondering which tactic to use to control information.

“From the top, shall we?” Harry countered, conjuring a burgundy colored overstuffed armchair with the wave of his right hand before sitting down. This casual display was lost on nobody for the intimidation factor it was. “You are Tom Marvolo Riddle, born to Merope Gaunt –witch- and Tom Riddle –Muggle- in June of nineteen twenty-seven. Your mother was the descendant of the third son of Salazar Slytherin, who had changed his name due to the shame his elder brothers brought to the name. You entered Hogwarts in thirty-eight as an unknown, having no clue as to your heritage. Sorted into Slytherin, you at first were nothing more than a toady to those with the influence.”

Many of the current members of said House looked put off for the beginnings of the Dark Lord was not glamorous at all.

“One of your better qualities is your ability to research the obscure,” Harry had continued, even as the Serpents went introspective. “By forty-two you knew who your father was, thanks in part to the Muggle Orphanage you grew up in, in London. Being able to search for him only in the summers, it took you until forty-four to actually find him as Muggle Britain was still embroiled in war on the continent. It was the information and travel restrictions that slowed you down, nothing more. The term of forty-three you –yes, you; not Hagrid- let loose a Basilisk that killed Myrtle. If there was one thing you knew before arriving at Hogwarts was that you could talk to snakes. Between that and the fact that Magical Records weren’t lost/locked away during the War led you to your mother’s identity easily. I digress; over the Holidays of forty-four you traveled to Little Hangleton, where your father lived. It was no matter to you to kill three Mundane was it, Tom?”

“You dare speak to me like you know me?” Riddle hissed, almost dipping into the snake language.

“Considering I know most, if not all, of your darkest secrets; yes,” was the nonchalant answer before the history lesson continued. “You see, this wonderful diary of yours is . . . well, was a Horcrux. I met the rest of you last year, and you look horrible; I think if Filch farted in the right direction he could end you which is saying something. However, you have been a naughty boy Tom. The Others are most displeased with you.” By the expression on the handsome if slightly out-of-focus face the fragment was feeling fear. “Oh yes, they are not at all happy with what you’ve done. They have . . . requested, that I find a way to end you permanently. So then Mister Flight from Death, enjoy your stay in the Adventure.” Not a complete truth or lie; it was verbal middle ground.

With that Harry stood, vanishing his chair before he began speaking in Latin as he waved his wand -that had appeared from nowhere- over the Diary that ended at the same time as his words with a jab at the floor.

“Abeo absconditus, acerbus animus. Ignoro Excessum, furor; exsequor exequor tui exsilium infra.” (Depart from life hidden, foolish soul. To be ignorant of Death, madness; follow to the end your exile in the underworld.)

The piece of Riddle’s soul didn’t even have time to roar with rage as it, and the Diary it was attached to, vanished with a muffled POP of displaced air. Ginny Weasley started crying tears of relief, being completely free of the nastiness that was the old book. That was until she looked into the eyes of her crush and was in turn crushed.

“You are by and far the most foolish person I have ever met,” he growled, eyes narrowed into slits. “Even being raised in the Mundane world I know better than to write in a book that writes back without knowing the magic behind it! But no~, you had to leave your brain at Flourish and Blotts, if there was anything in that cranium to begin with! You just stay away from me,” he turned his attention to a frozen Dumbledore, who was still digesting the information he’d learned. “I have a Basilisk to hunt, be right back.”

With that Harry Potter and his escort, the pair of fierce animated statues left a completely silent Great Hall. The silence didn’t last long as his voice drifted in through the doors as they closed.

“Hogwarts, omnino signum cunctus ianuas intus tui parietis.” (Completely seal all doors within your walls.)

The student population exploded into noise once the doors were sealed, many shouting at Ginny for being stupid enough to use an unknown enchanted diary; one that had somebody else’s name on it.

The Weasley Twins were strangely silent, giving their sister a calculating look; it was like they’d never seen her before and were wondering where she came from. They were also conflicted on what, exactly, they should feel after Harry made his displeasure known.

Percy had frozen, not wanting to believe that the youngest of the family was the one causing all of the mayhem.

Ron, for once in his life, was stunned silent. He’d not only thrown a friendship away for no viable reason other than rumor mongering; he’d completely missed that something was wrong with his baby sister.

The second year Hufflepuffs were in conference, as they’d been some of the more vocal anti-Harry crowd and now had to eat their words. The Ravenclaws, at last having proof as to who -a what, in all truth- had been attacking students, were in a fierce conversation in what type of unified front they should present. The entire house was giving the first year Gryffindor the evil eye but beyond that weren’t shouting at her like some. The Slytherins were unsurprisingly doing nothing, just calmly sitting at their table for all intents and purposes twiddling their thumbs waiting to be released. They would have their debate in their common room, away from the rest of the school where appropriate -to their way of thinking, at least- words would fly.

First Floor Girl’s Lavatory

“Hello Myrtle,” Harry greeted the ghost as he strolled in the door which has unsealed at his approach. Nobody else was aware of it, but when he’d pulled that little piece of Riddle out of his diary he’d inadvertently performed a copy and paste with the shade’s memories.

“Hi Harry,” her normal shriek was absent for she found herself intrigued for the first time in fifty years. It wasn’t every day that a student walked into the girl’s loo with animated statue guards, let alone the fierce-looking pair that were invading her space. Her ghostly visage blued as she blushed under the scrutiny he delivered.

“If you’ve ever wondered who that handsome boy,” he began after a few minutes, “that was the last person you saw in life was, I can tell you. I just dealt with a piece of him left in a diary via some right nasty magic. Either way I’m about to go down into the Chamber and make certain the Basilisk knows my displeasure for attacking students.”

“I’ve wanted to know who killed me for fifty years,” she swooped down between him and the sink-island. “I’ll do whatever you want however I can; please just tell me!” Myrtle looked so sad that there was no way he could deny her demand.

“Tom Riddle,” was delivered with no fanfare or delay.

If a ghost could lose their eyes she was making an excellent attempt at it. She tried to sit on the sink behind her but passed through it without noticing. She continued to look up at Harry from inside the basin giving her a headless look. Without warning she surged forward, trying to kiss him which led to a brain-freeze as she took a look inside his skull.

“Right, we’ll sort the rest out later,” he managed to get out around chattering teeth. Opening his mouth led to the ice-water feeling hitting his gums, making him look like he was puckering up for a kiss that the ghost couldn’t possibly deliver. “For now, can you please get out of my head?” How he said that through his lips as they were was a mystery to even himself.

“That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” she blued even further, completely embarrassed by her behavior even while she did as he asked.

Harry paused in perfect stillness, working over the wording before laughing at his unintentional joke. He was delighted to see that the resident of the loo was laughing also, probably for the first time in a long time without somebody else being miserable.

“You are welcome here anytime,” she purred at him, earning odd looks from not only Harry but the statues which was saying something. “I mean it; you don’t even have to die. I’ve never met anybody like you.”

It took everything he had to not look scared at that, instead turning to the island of sinks and getting to work. Rather than doing something silly like opening the chute that was just for the basilisk he set about destroying the magics that allowed it to function. Once that was done he moved over to the north wall -to the right of the sinks-, where the memory from Riddle showed the human entrance was located.

§Open, lights~, Slytherin’s~ Haven,§ were the Parseltongue commands, including a password to disarm the magical traps between this door and the Chamber itself. He didn’t notice that Myrtle had flinched at hearing the Snake Language again before taking a dive into her U-bend.

The odd trio of a schoolboy and his animated statues made their way down, keeping alert for any physical traps that Riddle might have set. While Harry had the memories that meant nothing in the Magical Society as mind-altering charms were in abundance. The Ravenclaw thing to do would be to set up said traps then Obliviate the memories, thus outsmarting any enemies that may interrogate a prisoner. While many would call it a Slytherin thing, as the cunning it takes to pull it off was a requirement, it also needed the intelligence of forethought; clues that could only be deciphered by the trap-maker had to be left if one went down that path.

Indeed, Harry discovered, Tom Riddle was the quintessential Slytherin but lacked that decisive Ravenclaw touch. The few physical traps he encountered were easily bypassed; all he had to do was follow the trail in the dust. He made a note to not only get rid of those as a precaution in case the Chamber was needed but to also reset the commands/passwords so that Riddle couldn’t use this back-door into the school.

Once he and his escort were through the inner doors, his frown deepened for that son of Slytherin had really done a number on the place. Instead of looking like a refuge/command center the entire Chamber appeared as a monument to said son’s greatness. The marble snake pillars, reaching to the ceiling some hundred feet above, were silver-plated, which when combined with the green fire of the torch brackets made them appear alive. At the far end was a floor to ceiling statue of Romulus Slytherin, looking like a combination of a monkey and a medusa.

Oh yes, he even looked mad, Harry thought. He speculated that the statue was supposed to be either a regal pose or a symbol of dominance -looking down at the masses at his feet- but beyond that paid it no mind.

“Imperium Auctoritas; viginti-sex, octoginta-novem, triginta-tres, sexaginta-unus, una, una, una, una. Nos Quattour, magister Hogwarts, agnosco noster Liber.” his voice echoed within the fabled Chamber of Secrets. (Command Authority; twenty-six, eighty-nine, sixty-one, one, one, one, one. We Four, the masters of Hogwarts, acknowledge our Child.)

Harry felt silly after speaking, waiting for something to happen. It wasn’t everyday that one discovered that the school one attends did in fact have some of the Mundane science driving it, like computers and a quasi Artificial Intelligence. Then again for how random everything was there had to be something behind things like the moving stairs and the doors that never behaved themselves.

It also gave some form of explanation as to why the Castle seemed to have a life of its own. It was far more than just the magic bleeding off of hormonal teenagers that gave the place the feeling of being alive; that life was already there at construction. What few had noticed, even if they never figured out how it worked, was that the secret passages were far too short for what they did. Stepping behind a tapestry in the Library and winding up on the Sixth Floor without delay was the work of modified Transporters. They were modified to emit no light or sound, instead creating permanent fixed-position two-way wormholes between the stations.

For all intents and purposes, miniature Stargates that stayed within the walls of the Castle.

Not long after speaking the codes that would enable Harry to forever lock Tom Riddle out of the school did several things happen at once. From within the snake-statues more of the fierce man-shaped variety stepped out, now sporting silver plating each carrying halberds. The pole-arms didn’t have the traditional convex axe-head, instead they were shaped like a pair of open scissors.

The giant Slytherin statue crumbled as the wall behind it vanished, leaving the hollow that was the Basilisk nest exposed. The tunnel that led to the Forbidden Forest was blocked by a large chunk of the ceiling that had fallen -or Voldemort had intentionally put it there to starve the Basilisk so it would eat the students when set free.

That explained why he’d heard the thing complaining about being so hungry after so long.

The King of Serpents itself was tasting the air, not understanding what had just happened. It knew one of the two-legs was around; one that had a right to be there in the Chamber. The girl -it knew that from the taste in the air- had used it to attack students again, using an old compulsion left over from the last time it was free.

This one . . . oh dear; he’s quite upset.

§You are an abomination,§ Harry wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. §I know your his~tory, that you were hatched here by the s~on of S~lytherin. Your only purpose is~ to harm the s~tudents~ in the s~chool above. I do not care if you were compelled to obey, you picked the wrong s~tudent to attack.§

While he was speaking to the Basilisk his hands -and wand- had not been idle. To prevent instant death from the eyes and fangs should it try to bite him, he’d conjured a muzzle that went just beyond the length of the head. Reinforcing that with more conjuration he wrapped the muzzle in steel bands. Like any other predator, the jaws had massive crushing power but were extremely weak being opened.

Dead center on the top if the reinforced muzzle was an opening just big enough for the blade of a Longsword. A Longsword identified by the last owner.

“Adeo me, Ferrum vaco Gryffindor!” he intoned, empty left hand in the air as his wand was in his right.

The hard part of trying to drive a piece of Goblin-enchanted silver, worked into a sword, into the head of a snake is that the snake will not cooperate if it had been blinded for all intents and purposes. Combined with being unable to open its’ jaw to use its’ massive tongue to taste the air to find the threat or escape avenue the difficulty rating entered ‘Oh God, Oh God we’re gonna die!’ range.

The only ability it had left was ground vibration-location and its’ sheer body weight.

Many would ponder why Harry didn’t try to pin the Basilisk to the ground. One thing to know about snakes is that they are invertebrates; the only true bones in their bodies are their skulls. The rest is pure muscle; each species has different ways of using that muscle. For an eighteen meter long Basilisk that weighed close to a metric ton simply making use of steel bands to strap it to the ground wasn’t nearly enough. With the magic-resistant hide Sticking Charms of any variety were also out since said charms wouldn’t take hold.

Harry, however, was ready to join battle with the remnants of an insane Slytherin.

While the Basilisk was thrashing around trying to dislodge the muzzle -which wasn’t going anywhere, being strapped behind the skull crest- he had moved into a corner of the hollow. This provided cover for his back without having to look over his shoulder constantly and gave him space to work without having to move.

Another plus was the animated statues, now numbering twenty-two, moving forward to attempt to restrain the massive beast. Since the Basilisk was moving around so much, panicking over its’ inability to see -not that it saw much to begin with- or taste the air, it didn’t know the statues were there until they attacked with their halberds.

Since it couldn’t sense where the attackers were, the Basilisk reared up to minimize damage taken to its’ body. This was exactly what Harry wanted for he’d placed a guidance charm on the slot in the top of the muzzle . . . after he’d set the Sword of Gryffindor floating ten meters off of the floor. The charm he’d used was an obscure one that set an object where the user wanted; the object couldn’t be moved again unless the charm was canceled.

Just as fast as it elevated its’ head in an attempt to save itself the massive snake came crashing back down with a new accessory in its’ head.

All that could be seen of the sword was the hilt; it was buried all the way to the ahead-of-its-time cross-guard. The Basilisk couldn’t even roar in pain as it didn’t due to being unable to open its’ jaw.

“Right, bring it with us,” Harry directed to the statues once he extracted the sword.

Great Hall, 2100; Same day

“Blasted piece of shite, work!” it was a sight to behold as the Headmaster railed against the Castle, trying everything he could to get the doors open. He’d already had to make a set of temporary restrooms for the students as dinner was long over, one for each sex.

The students were having a decent time of being stuck, getting a rare chance to socialize outside of classes with the other Houses. Of course that didn’t apply to Slytherin and Gryffindor, each avoiding the other so as not to cause problems with an already agitated Headmaster.

The din of quite conversation died off as the sounds of something heavy moving outside of the Great Hall earned more and more attention. The formation march, for it could be nothing else, came closer to the doors before they parted.

Nobody moved.

Harry Potter was back from wherever he went having acquired more of those fierce-looking statues and, carried on their shoulders, the body of the biggest serpent any had even heard of let alone seen.

“Is tha’?” Hagrid was awestruck and giving Harry the look Colin Creevey usually reserved just for him: Hero-Worship.

“Yes, it is,” was his response, ignoring the look. “Dead, of course ‘cause I’m not that stupid. Kept the muzzle on as a precaution; this beast is a thousand years old and so is its’ magic. Who knows how long it’ll take for the eyes to lose their instant death power? On top of that is the same aged venom sacs; the poison has entered the realm of the highly acidic it’s so powerful.”

“How did you . . .?” Dumbledore looked extremely worried before the candle lights reflected off of a piece of silver on Harry’s person.

“Actually got the thing to commit suicide,” he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man at the moment. “Of course, having this should put an end to that Heir of Slytherin shite the masses tried to pawn on me.”

The students that were close enough could see the name on the sword; one thought lost to the ages. As word spread that he held the Sword of Gryffindor the previous naysayers felt like complete tools.

Especially the youngest Weasley boy.

Ron felt so ashamed of himself it went beyond the realm of sad. Not only was Harry the farthest thing from the Heir of Slytherin one could get -not that he’d know the truth unless he was told from the source otherwise- but was apparently the Heir or Gryffindor. Such a reversal in mindset, still in turmoil over Ginny and her actions, confused him to no end as to what he should be feeling now.

The Weasley daughter, upon seeing the Basilisk, had her memory come back and wanted to hide somewhere. Her crush, the school . . . . everybody hated her now, for being that silly little girl that wrote in a diary that wasn’t hers to begin with. She was responsible for the students in the Hospital Wing; even if she was just an unwilling agent of the Dark Lord.

In another time and place, Ginny would be taken down to the Chamber in June and Harry would save her. In that case, he would be able to see that she was as much a victim of Voldemort as everybody else that year.

“The Goblins will be here in five minutes,” Harry was speaking to Dumbledore, “for the carcass. They will sell what they can over time to prevent a market flood; Colin, Justin, Hermione and Penny each get fifteen percent; the Hogwarts coffers get ten and I get the rest. You do what you will with Weasley; I want nothing more to do with her or her brother Ronald.”

Social death on the highest scale. Not even Draco Malfoy had gotten the confirmed vote of no-confidence from Harry Potter and that’s saying something right there.

“Now then, excuse me,” Harry strode out of the Great Hall, his two personal guard falling into step behind him.

A few of the students followed when the doors remained open, sensing freedom at last. Seeing that they could leave there was a flood as the rest of the student body, minus the stunned Ron and Ginny, wondered what Harry was up to.

The Hospital Wing hadn’t seen this many of the populace crowded into the place . . . ever, really. The Wing expanded as needed to fit everybody as Harry made a bee-line for Hermione before doing the last thing any expected.

“C’mon, get up!” he thundered, smacking her frozen face.

Just when the student body thought they’d seen it all, this event proved there was still much to learn. They had no idea how he’d done it but he’d cured the petrifaction with a slap.

“Ow!” was the complaint that sealed the events in the strange category.

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asked as he moved over to Penelope Clearwater’s bed and repeating the process. Madam Pomfrey finally fought her way through the crowd as word spread that Harry could cure those petrified.

“What the devil are you hitting me for?!” was the second complaint before the surroundings sunk in to the Ravenclaw Prefect’s mind.

“Harry . . . what is going on?” Hermione sounded scared, looking at almost the entire student body looking back at her. The Professors were also making their way through the masses, minus the Headmaster as he was entertaining the Goblins that had arrived.

“In no particular order: found the answers, killed the beast, restored those affected, made a mint from the Goblins, made sure each of you were compensated for being affected . . . just a normal day in the life of Harry Potter,” he answered with a grin.

TBC

Right, there we are. Now don’t get all excited about seeing the Stargate folks anytime soon. In fact, it’ll be 1997 by the timeline before they interact beyond the Ascended. Five years to counter Voldemort before going out to save the galaxy (or two, maybe three) at the wonderful age of seventeen.

Now to focus on my other work. Thank you readers and reviewers!
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