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A Brother to Basilisks	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 85173 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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Chapter Seven—Charge the Enemy
            Harry wouldn’t say that life stayed exactly the same as it had before he had Dash—for one thing, the amount of people staring at him was greater than it had ever been—but it did come to have its own routine.
            Professor Lupin was teaching all sorts of lessons that Harry liked. They learned about all sorts of dangerous, Dark magical creatures, and the ways to counter their powers and make sure that they didn’t hurt anybody if they had to face them. Harry sometimes had to filter his way through Dash’s many comments when he did his homework, but in class, Dash was as silent and attentive as any of them.
            It was only when he was hanging from Harry’s neck and reading the homework that he became dismissive. Something like a simple Tripping Jinx wouldn’t stop me.
            Of course it wouldn’t, Harry retorted, and began to correct the spelling of the last sentence he’d written. He had a hard time with certain words. Hermione didn’t, but Hermione didn’t have a hard time with anything when it came to homework. And Hermione wasn’t here, as she usually wasn’t lately. You don’t have feet.
            Not only for that reason. Dash coiled slowly around his throat, and let his tail drop on the paper. When are you going to learn something about basilisks? About how beautiful and violent we are, for starters.
            Harry laughed, which made Ron, who was working on his essay beside him, jump. But a second later, Ron rolled his eyes and went back to writing. He and the other Gryffindors had adapted pretty easily to Harry having conversations in his own head, and sometimes laughing or snorting or reacting oddly aloud.
            Most people wouldn’t consider that those two words go together, you know, Harry said, and reached up to rub his knuckles over Dash’s head. Dash liked it when he would rub gently up to the base of the plume, and then even more gently up it. He said the plume couldn’t stand rough handling. Or they wouldn’t think it was a good thing if they did.
            Dash lashed out with his tongue, turning his head back and forth as if he wanted to catch subtle scents fleeing through the Gryffindor dorm. He seemed particularly focused on Ron’s bed, for some reason. That is because most people do not understand how wonderful basilisks are, he said, distracted. Your professor promised to teach you more about my kind. Why hasn’t he done so?
            Harry waved his hand at the essay. He’s been teaching us other things.
            I’m hungry, Dash whined, not paying attention to Harry’s words, which was a sure sign that he really was.
            Harry grimaced a little. The last time Dash had been hungry, a week ago, he’d taken him out into the Forbidden Forest and fed him again, but McGonagall had caught him this time. Quiet and forceful, she’d made it clear that sneaking outside the school after curfew wouldn’t be tolerated anymore. She’d assigned Harry a detention where he had to write lines about responsibility and dangerous pets until his fingers almost fell off.
            Dash had spent that detention peacefully sleeping off his full stomach in the corner of the classroom, one of the few times he’d been inside and not attached to Harry. He didn’t understand why Harry’s hands were sore afterwards and Harry couldn’t pet Dash to his demanding satisfaction.
            Now, Harry wasn’t sure what to do. McGonagall had told Harry that house-elves could bring Dash food, but Harry thought even the elves would draw the line at dead rabbits. Or living rabbits, rather, since Dash liked to kill them himself.
            Harry, are you listening to me?
            Yes, Harry said, and shook his head. Well, he had Quidditch practice in half an hour, since Oliver wanted nothing more than the Quidditch Cup. He could take Dash with him and feed him then, since at least they would be outside.
            I’m hungry now, Dash insisted, and then slithered down from Harry’s shoulders to the floor, an unfolding motion so smooth that it took Harry a moment to realize what was happening. If there’s food in the room and you’re not giving it to me, that’s basilisk abuse.
            Harry opened his mouth to retort, then paused and blinked. Ron had gone very still, the way he did whenever Dash climbed off Harry. What are you talking about, food in the room? I don’t think any Forbidden Forest creatures have got in here. There were also no more spiders left in the entire Gryffindor Tower, much to Ron’s joy.
            Basilisk abuse, Dash repeated firmly, and slithered towards Ron’s bed.
            Harry leaped to his feet. He had just thought about what Dash probably meant, and Ron would never forgive him if Dash got that far. “Dash—”
            There was a terrified squeaking noise. Dash lunged, and Scabbers scuttled out from beneath Ron’s bed and ran madly for the door.
            Dash coiled the top half of his body around—he didn’t need to cover the full distance when his size did most of the covering for him, Harry thought, distracted—and there was a telltale quiver in the clear lids that covered his eyes.
            “Do not,” Harry said. He didn’t even know he could sound that commanding in Parseltongue. Of course, the only time he had really tried before this was when he was telling Malfoy’s conjured snake to get away from Justin.
            Dash turned his head slowly back towards Harry, who found himself standing up. He crossed his arms and frowned at Dash. I’m not afraid of you, he said down the bond. I know you could kill me with a look, but you wouldn’t do that, because it would mean that you wouldn’t have someone to tease anymore.
            Dash moved with terrifying speed, and wrapped himself around Harry from the floor up, so his head was hovering at Harry’s eye level. That’s not the only reason I wouldn’t kill you. I would never hurt you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.
            Harry maintained his stern look for a few moments, and then smiled and reached out and rubbed behind Dash’s plume. Fine. But you would hurt me if you hurt Ron or my friendship with Ron.
            Dash did an intricate little dance of disgust with his head. Would he put that ugly creature whose only value is in being a mouthful for me above your friendship?
            He’s attached to it. The way I’m attached to you.
            Dash sent image after image of disgust and dirt and dung and filth at Harry for comparing him to Scabbers. Harry ignored him and turned around to see Ron cradling Scabbers protectively against his chest.
            “Is he all right?” Harry asked, feeling a little guilty. He should have known what Dash was up to before now and stopped him. Scabbers had probably only survived this long in Gryffindor Tower with a snake because he usually hid, and Dash followed Harry’s routine and didn’t interact much with Scabbers.
            “Yeah, I think so.” Ron looked up, and his eyes were as menacing as Harry had ever seen them. “No thanks to that thing.”
            Harry breathed through his own anger. Dash could have killed Scabbers. It was extremely unlikely that it would work the other way around, or that Ron would dare to attack Dash, so Dash wasn’t in danger. “Sorry, then,” he said.
            Ron replied, but Harry didn’t hear him, filled as his mind was with the buzz of Dash’s voice. Why does the rat smell human?
            Harry stared blankly at Dash for a moment. Because Ron is holding him? he finally offered. It wasn’t like Dash to ask for Harry’s assistance in a matter that concerned scents. Harry certainly couldn’t compete with him in scenting things, and Dash was usually the one who told Harry when something smelled off.
            No, it is more than that. Dash coiled himself up and up until a good chunk of his heavy body was resting on top of Harry’s head. Harry grunted and bore it. It wasn’t the most awkward position Dash had put him in. He smells human, himself. What is the name for humans who can turn into rats? And do they taste good?
            Harry stared up at Dash. Dash looked back down at him, draping his head sideways until almost all of his body was slipping off Harry’s forehead like a crown. What? Did I discover something new? Didn’t you know there were humans who could turn into rats?
            Harry turned shakily away from Dash, although he put one hand on the bend of Dash’s body to show that he hadn’t been forgotten, and whispered, “Ron? Can I talk to you downstairs, please?”
            Ron nodded, looking confused. He started to leave the room carrying Scabbers.
            “No!” Harry yelped, and he decided that he must have sounded too panicked, because Scabbers abruptly leaped up, bit Ron’s finger, and dropped to the floor as Ron yelped. He was running straight for the door, and Harry reached out a desperate hand, even though he knew that once the rat got out the door, they would probably never find him.
            Dash launched himself smoothly from the top of Harry’s head, as if he had wings. He landed between Scabbers and the door, and swayed back and forth like a cobra, hissing what Harry knew weren’t Parseltongue words, just random threatening sounds. Scabbers froze, his legs locked beneath him, squeaking frantically.
            “What the bloody hell is going on?” Ron bellowed, wringing his finger and sending blood in all directions. “Scabbers, come back here right now!” He ran towards the rat, who dodged and ran towards Ron’s bed.
            Harry finally cast the Tripping Jinx that he’d been writing about for Lupin’s essay. He didn’t have any other spell in his head, and this one worked well enough, mostly missing Scabbers but still sending him somersaulting tail over head.
            Dash was flooding forwards, murmuring, We need to do something about the variety of spells you know, especially the curses, when Ron leaped in between him and Scabbers and snatched the rat up. Dash paused, watching Ron through his eyelids. Harry could almost feel the way Ron shook from here, but he didn’t move.
            He is brave, Dash said admiringly. And maybe he loves that human who’s also a rat. Does he know who it is? Ask him if he does. This is interesting.
            Harry closed his eyes. He would have to do this, even though he would rather go get a professor and bring them here. But he thought by the time he did that, Ron would have let Scabbers go, and he would run away somewhere, and trying to find a rat in a castle this size wasn’t something Harry wanted to think about.
            “Ron,” he said, and waited until his friend was paying attention to him instead of Dash, even though that took a while. “Dash says that Scabbers isn’t a rat.”
            “What else is he, then?” Ron said, and clutched Scabbers still closer. The rat seemed to be awake again, but he was huddling frozen. Harry hoped that had something to do with Dash’s stare, even muffled. He had read somewhere that some snakes could hypnotize their prey with their eyes.
            That seems like a foolish thing to do. You stalk it and then you kill it with your poison or your body. Hypnotism.
            Harry, steadied by the solid force of Dash’s contempt, took a deep breath and said, “Dash says that he smells human. I think—is it possible that he’s an Animagus?”
            Ron stared at him as if he had gone mad. But Scabbers proved Harry’s contention, as far as Harry was concerned, by leaping up to Ron’s shoulder and flying desperately into the air, aiming for Harry.
            Harry had no idea what Scabbers was going to do, if he was trying to bite him or just get beyond him and run away. But Harry’s hand flashed out instinctively. After all, Scabbers wasn’t that much bigger than a Snitch. In a second, he had a palmful of squirming fur, and Scabbers was trying to bite him, and then Dash slithered up beside him and Scabbers went very still again.
            Panting, Harry told Dash, Admit it. You can hypnotize someone by looking at them through your eyelids. One of the lesser known powers of the basilisk.
            You sound like that book you were reading for Lupin’s class this afternoon. Dash tilted his head to the side and unhinged his jaw in a yawn. Harry became aware that something wet and stinky was dribbling over his fingers, and wrinkled his nose. And I haven’t hypnotized him. He’s just so cowardly that he can’t stand being in the same room with me.
            Harry opened his mouth to retort, then paused. It was true that he had seen very little of Scabbers since Dash had come to live with him. He had just thought that was for the same reason that he’d seen little of Scabbers at any time lately, though. Crookshanks kept trying to attack him.
            That cat is smarter than it looks.
            Harry shook his head and turned to Ron, who was marching towards him and asking, “What are you doing with my rat?”
            “Listen,” said Harry. Ron stopped and folded his arms, but reluctantly listened. “Why would an ordinary rat panic when I talked about going downstairs without him? Why would he make a flying leap when I asked if he was an Animagus?” Scabbers squealed miserably and paddled at the air with his paws, but went still again when Dash glanced at him, and Harry nodded. He had to reach up past his own head to pet Dash on the nose, but this once, he didn’t mind someone being taller than he was. “See?” Harry added. “Rats don’t understand human speech. Unless they’re not rats.”
            “Your bloody snake understands English,” Ron said, with a look at Dash that was anything but friendly.
            Harry shrugged that impatiently aside. “That’s because he’s bonded with me and understanding the words when I do. He wouldn’t be able to read or understand what someone was saying if I wasn’t there.” Dash hissed in agreement, making Ron jump. “But Scabbers can’t understand you or me. Right? Unless you’re secretly a Rodentmouth and you never told me.”
            That won a brief, reluctant smile from Ron, but he still shook his head. “All right, it’s weird. But I always thought Scabbers was a magical rat. He’s already lived a long time. A lot longer than most rats should.”
            Harry looked at him in silence, and Ron turned red. “He could still be magical!” he insisted.
            “Or he could be an Animagus,” Harry said.
            “Fine. You don’t need to sound like you think it’s obvious and I’m stupid. Your snake didn’t even smell him at first.” Ron gave a glance at Dash.
            I could never smell the bloody creature separately until today. He was always on the blankets or in the hands that also smelt of human.
            Harry decided that he didn’t need to speak that bit aloud. “Sorry if I sound like I think you’re stupid. I don’t. But I do think he’s an Animagus. And we need someone who can tell us. Someone who knows a spell that can force an Animagus to turn back or something.”
            For the first time since Harry had got Dash, he and Ron had an idea at the same time. “McGonagall,” they said simultaneously, and ran for the staircase.
            Dash slithered after them, accompanied by Dumbledore’s mirrors. You’re going to trip on the staircase when you’re holding something in one hand, Harry, he offered innocently. I could carry Scabbers for you. Perhaps in my mouth.
            Harry rolled his eyes and kept running. Ron was pounding along beside him, and casting glances at Scabbers that made Harry understand why. It couldn’t be comfortable knowing that maybe an Animagus had slept in the same bed as you for years, and you hadn’t known.
            Maybe McGonagall can transform and hunt him down if he does manage to escape, Harry thought hopefully. He was really hoping that she would make everything make sense and go away.
            She shouldn’t get to eat him, said Dash sulkily behind him. I was hungry first.
*
            Professor McGonagall looked at them when she opened her office door in a way that made Harry shrink. He wondered if he was wrong, if they should have tried to handle this themselves instead of going to a teacher.
            But then Professor McGonagall looked at the rat in Harry’s hands, and her eyebrows went up. “Have you brought me Mr. Weasley’s pet to doctor, Mr. Potter?” she asked. “I’m afraid that I don’t know as much about animals as I should. Professor Hagrid would be a better choice.”
            “No,” said Ron, sounding breathless. Harry was just as glad to let him explain. “We think my rat might be an Animagus, and Harry said—there’s spells—you could use a spell that would show if he was?”
            McGonagall snapped upright. “There are indeed spells like that. But why do you think your rat is an Animagus, Mr. Weasley?”
            Her eyes went to Dash. Harry nodded and touched his neck. “He said that Scabbers smelled human. And then Scabbers started acting strange, like he understood English, when we were talking about it. And he’s lived a long time for a rat.”
            McGonagall’s eyebrows came down. “Well,” she said softly, and reached for Scabbers with her left hand, lifting her wand with the right.
            Scabbers made one more desperate leap, towards the door. Dash snapped around, but the door had already flown shut. That must be some nonverbal magic, Harry decided, awed. Professor Lupin had mentioned it, but also said they wouldn’t learn it until sixth year.
            “Homorpho!” said McGonagall with what Harry thought was an impressive amount of calm, and the air around Scabbers boiled. He was squealing in what sounded like shrill despair as the magic forced him towards the floor, and then he spun around and began to grow.
            Ron stepped back, looking sick. Harry caught his shoulder and squeezed tight. It was as much comfort as he could think about giving right now, when their fascinated gazes were still locked on the rat that had been Scabbers.
            The man that had been Scabbers. Harry could see that he was a man now. He was naked and manky and smelled bad, and he had hair that hung around his face. He kept his head down and gnawed on his nails. McGonagall waved her wand and probably used some nonverbal magic again, and suddenly the man was dressed in a brown coat that covered him from his chest down to the floor. He looked up in shock.
            McGonagall breathed in sharply enough that Harry thought she sounded as if she’d hurt herself. “Peter Pettigrew?”
            Harry stared with his heart pounding. Ron made a disbelieving noise. “Not—not—”
            “As in the wizard who was supposedly killed by Sirius Black when he went mad and killed those Muggles.” McGonagall cast another spell, her eyes so wide that Harry blinked. He had never thought anything would surprise McGonagall like that. “I don’t understand—no. Now that I know he is a rat Animagus, I do.” She advanced one step and cast another spell, and ropes appeared around Pettigrew, binding him. “Speak, Peter.”
            Pettigrew, if it was him, whimpered and tried to rub his hands together, but the ropes around his limbs held them in place, and he couldn’t. “I—I escaped. It was a miracle. But I was t-too afraid to come back when Black was at large, and—”
            “Black was in prison for twelve years,” said McGonagall. Her voice was level, and Harry decided they had made the right choice after all, getting a professor to handle it. “You were too afraid even then to come back and tell the Ministry what had happened?”
            Pettigrew said nothing, but crouched and squeaked. McGonagall’s eyes were distant, and she abruptly made a sharp movement with her wand. The sleeve on the left arm of Pettigrew’s coat writhed back.
            Harry stared at the deep, coal-black marking on Pettigrew’s left arm, not understanding. It looked like a snake and a skull—
            And the snake isn’t a basilisk, Dash said, writhing around so that his tail was knotted around Harry’s legs. What a waste. If you were going to design a symbol with a snake in it, why wouldn’t you use a basilisk?
            Harry touched the top of Dash’s head, feeling lost. He didn’t understand what was going on. He looked at McGonagall, who was pale and gripping the side of her desk as if she needed the support to keep from falling down. That scared Harry more than anything had so far, even when he thought Scabbers was going to get away.
            “A Death Eater,” McGonagall whispered.
            This time, Ron was the one who squeaked. “A—a follower of You-Know-Who?” he asked, and McGonagall nodded.
            Harry stared at the snake and skull and wondered what to say. He didn’t know if he could say anything. His mouth was dry and he wanted to sit down and he wanted to run away and he wanted to vomit.
            “It seems,” said McGonagall, in almost a mumble, “that there were—there were two Death Eaters among your parents’ friends, Mr. Potter.” She looked at Harry with pity that he had to look away from. “Either that, or something has gone very wrong here, and we have imprisoned—”
            Her jaw trembled. Her face was flushed now, and Harry was astonished to see the flash of what might have been tears at the edge of her eyelids. But then McGonagall turned away briskly, and Harry could pretend he hadn’t seen them at all, which was more comfortable.
            “Professor Lupin’s office!” McGonagall called, casting Floo powder into the flames. “Yes, Remus. I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re marking, but we have an…extraordinary situation here. Can you come to my office? Yes, right away, please. Give me a moment to call the Headmaster.” She closed the Floo connection, and then called, “Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster!”
            It seemed to take longer for the Headmaster to answer, and McGonagall turned back to Harry and Ron with a vague frown. “You should go, boys—”
            Dash twisted around like a pillar of smoke and hissed, harsh and threatening, his fangs bared. McGonagall froze.
            “It’s all right,” Harry said hastily, and yanked Dash back down. “It’s just, how in the world can we go? He was Ron’s rat! And if he has something to do with my parents, I really want to stay. Please, Professor McGonagall,” he added, when she opened her mouth. “I don’t know anything about them except that my dad was good at Quidditch and they died defending me, not really.”
            McGonagall was going to say something else, but Dumbledore’s voice said from the fire, “Yes, Minerva, what is it?”
            “Fine, you may stay,” said McGonagall, with the air of someone granting permission they would regret asking for, and turned around again. A careless wave of her wand Transfigured two small trunks into chairs.
            Ron settled down in one of the chairs, never taking his gaze off Pettigrew. Harry sat down in the other one and tugged Dash up beside him. Don’t hiss at anyone else.
            But because of me, you got to stay, Dash said, and curled his tail around Harry’s waist in what was almost a hug. Now. Can I eat him in human form?

*
staar: No. Lupin is concerned that Harry might accidentally kill Sirius before giving him a chance to explain himself. And while Lupin thinks Sirius is guilty at this point, he doesn’t want him to die.
No, Snape is not evil, but he is out for himself.
Meechypoo: Almost everyone thinks Dash is more dangerous than Sirius.
Marron: I think Lupin is just way too conflicted and caught up in the past—much like canon.
ChaosLady: Thank you!
PeriLover: Thanks very much!
Jester: It’s not a Snarry, but Snape will be heavily involved in the plot.
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A Brother to Basilisks