Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, fingers steepled as he watched the sun dip below the horizon. Fawkes cooed softly from his perch, the only other presence in the room. The events of the past day replayed in his mind—the Chamber of Secrets, the shade of Tom Riddle, and Harry Potter.
A twelve-year-old should not have been able to survive that. And yet, not only did Harry survive, he had defeated the basilisk and destroyed the diary. A feat no ordinary child could have managed. No… not ordinary at all, Dumbledore mused. His eyes glancing at the damaged diary on his desk.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He composed his features into a kindly smile. "Come in."
Ron Weasley stepped inside, shoulders hunched, and face twisted in annoyance. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, though his mind was calculating.
"Ah, Mr. Weasley," he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit."
Ron slumped into the chair, his expression sullen. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"
Dumbledore leaned back, adopting his grandfatherly demeanour. "Yes, yes. I wanted to congratulate you on your bravery. Leading Harry to the Chamber of Secrets… very noble indeed."
Ron's face twisted. "He's not very grateful. Barely even spoke to me afterward."
Ungrateful, is he? Dumbledore suppressed a frown. I will have to find another way to alienate him. The Parseltongue business didn't isolate him much at all.
Outwardly, he sighed, feigning disappointment. "Harry can be… stubborn. But I am pleased you were able to bring him to the Chamber. Ginny's safe, and the school is secure once more."
Ron perked up at the mention of his sister, then quickly looked sour again. "Yeah… but he's still not my friend. No matter what I do."
Dumbledore's eyes hardened, just for a moment, before the twinkle returned. A Ravenclaw Harry Potter. Unacceptable. He's too cautious, too clever. The letter should have worked better. Perhaps the compulsion wasn't strong enough, faded to quickly…
His mind wandered back to the enchanted letter he had sent Ron—a little compulsion, a touch of recklessness weaved into the parchment. He needed Harry to be reckless, brave to the point of stupidity. Ravenclaw made him too calculated. Too prepared. Not like James at all…Still, Ron had played his part, albeit reluctantly and slightly more reckless from touching the letter. Dumbledore's smile widened. "I understand it's frustrating, my boy. But you must keep trying. Harry is… special. He needs guidance, friends to help him along the way. Friends like you."
Ron's eyes flickered with doubt. "Can't Hermione just do it? She's better at following him around anyway."
Dumbledore's smile didn't falter. "Ah, yes. Miss Granger has proven to be… very useful. And she will have her own tasks soon enough. There's a… project I need her to research."
His gaze drifted to the cabinet in the corner, where several old, dusty tomes lay hidden—Potter grimoires he had taken from Harry's family vaults. The answer was in there, he was positive.
Ron perked up. "Does that mean I don't have to—"
"You," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice suddenly cold, "will continue to befriend Harry. You will continue to be by his side, influencing him. I don't care how you do it—be creative. Use his naivety against him. But you will do this."
Ron paled, nodding quickly. "Yes, Professor."
Dumbledore's face softened, the kindly headmaster once more. "Good lad. I will make sure your family is compensated accordingly. Expect some… extra spending money in your account soon."
Ron's eyes gleamed with greed, his mood immediately improving. "Thanks, Professor!"
Dumbledore leaned back, satisfaction curling through him. So easy to manipulate. Just like his mother.
He watched Ron leave, his mind already shifting to the next phase. Harry had proven to be resilient, difficult to break. The boy had fought the Basilisk and survived. Just like he survived the Killing Curse. The family magic must be stronger than he thought.
Dumbledore's fingers tapped rhythmically against his desk. "You will be the one, Harry. Whether you like it or not."
He turned his gaze to Fawkes, whose eyes gleamed with ancient knowledge. The phoenix trilled softly, its mournful song echoing through the room.
Dumbledore's lips curved into a cold smile.
~
The summer before Harry's third year was beginning much like the last—trapped at Privet Drive, forced to endure the Dursleys while sneaking out to see Nox whenever he could.
Luna had left in early July for an expedition with her father, following some mystical creature trail across the globe. She wouldn't be back until August, but they had their journals to keep in touch. He was always worried that Xeno would suddenly up and leave her alone in some magical killer jungle. Luna was constantly checking in, always asking how he was really feeling after everything that had happened in the Chamber.
I'm fine, he always wrote back.
It was a lie, of course.
Harry still dreamed of Tom. Not the monstrous spectre Voldemort had become, but the boy—the beautiful, dangerous boy who had whispered his name like a promise and looked at him like he was his. The boy who had reached for him, only to be destroyed by his hand. The worst were the dreams where Tom wasn't angry, where he begged Harry not to kill him.
But it was getting better. Slowly.
When Harry wasn't sneaking out to the cove to see Nox, he spent his days replaying everything that happened in the Chamber, over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out how it all went so wrong.
What was I thinking? he wondered for the hundredth time, glaring at the cracked ceiling of his bedroom. Why did I let Ron get away with so much?
Ron, who had dragged him to the Chamber under false pretences. Ron, who had pushed him down that hole without a second thought. Harry's fingers tightened into fists. I shouldn't have let him off so easily. I should've been more careful.
It was pure luck that Ron hadn't noticed when Harry used wandless magic to pin him against the wall after getting shoved down the tunnel. If Ron had seen, if he had realised… Harry shuddered at the thought. Dumbledore would have known. And then everything would've fallen apart.
Even facing the Basilisk, he had been reckless. Why didn't he just run? He could've saved himself and come back for Ginny later. Sure, he would've felt awful leaving her to die, but if he had been killed… then who would've saved her anyway?
I was lucky, Harry thought bitterly. Stupidly, foolishly lucky. If the Basilisk's venom hadn't destroyed the diary, he would have died. He wasn't sure if Fawkes would have healed him with Tom still at his side.
A shiver ran through him as he remembered the fight—the searing pain of the Basilisk's fang piercing his arm, the rush of victory quickly replaced by the poison's burn. But even more haunting were his memories of Tom.
Harry could still feel the phantom touch of Tom's hand against his cheek, the soft caress that made his heart stutter. The boy who had begged, voice raw and broken, "Don't kill me… Please, Harry…"
He hated himself for the way his heart ached at the memory. For the way he had felt as Tom faded from existence.
Why did he feel this way? Harry's fists clenched. He set the basilisk on him for Merlin's sake! He wanted him dead!
He rolled onto his side, glaring at the wall, his chest tight. It's just guilt, he told himself. Just guilt because I killed someone-again. Someone who was just a boy.
Would it have been so bad, to stay by his side?
He shook his head fiercely, trying to banish the thought.
~
To keep himself distracted, he had worked on something new—an improved version of his communication journal for him and his friends. He had five journals, all connected. He had managed to create a main journal where he could adjust the runes and add to them, he didn't want to end up with a hundred journals after all. To keep everything clear, he had also ordered them different coloured Never-End Ink Quills.
It wasn't quite as private as Luna's shared journal with him, but it was the best way to keep everyone connected over the holidays.
Putting his project aside, he waited for the lights in the hallway to go out.
The moment the Dursleys were asleep, Harry called for Tilly, and with a soft pop, she took him to the cove.
The night air was cool and salty, the crash of the waves against the shore instantly relaxing him. It was late, but that didn't matter—this was the only place he could breathe freely.
"Mother!" A loud, joyous voice echoed across the sands before something large barrelled into him.
Harry let out an oof as he was knocked to the ground, staring up at the shimmering form of Nox, who had pinned him under one massive foreleg.
She had grown.
Over a year old now, Nox stood at an impressive nine feet tall, her midnight-black scales shimmering in the moonlight. Her eyes, still the bright gold of her hatching days, gleamed with delight as she nuzzled him.
"Mother, you're late!" she huffed, though she still chirped happily, pressing against him. "I missed you!"
Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around her massive head. "I missed you too, little terror."
She huffed, offended. "I am not little anymore."
He snorted. "Fine. Big terror."
After a few more minutes of affectionate headbutting, Harry finally extricated himself and moved toward the shore. The sea was calling him tonight. His magic thrummed in time with the waves, restless and ready to be worked. The moon was full and high in the sky illuminating the water.
Stripping off his shirt, he stepped into the surf, letting the cool water lap around his ankles before he started moving through his exercises.
Water bent to his will, rising and curling with the flow of his body. His control was sharper now, more refined. The larger his movements, the bigger the results—so tonight, he went big.
His arms swept out, and twin pillars of water rose, twisting into serpentine shapes before collapsing forward in a surge of power. He twisted, and the waves followed, swirling around him, lifting him off the ocean floor for a moment before settling back down.
Swift, fluid, powerful. Deadly.
Behind him, Nox watched, fascinated. "You move like the sea, Mother."
Harry smiled. "That's the goal."
Nox took a few steps forward, water splashing against her scaled legs. "I want to try."
Harry turned. "You can try, but remember—you're a hatchling of fire."
Nox flared her wings, determination gleaming in her eyes.
Harry chuckled, stepping back. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
Nox mimicked his stance, awkward now that she was so much bigger, but she had been copying him for months. She raised her wings as if they were arms, sweeping them in a grand arc. The ocean didn't move.
She tried again. And again.
Then, on the fifth attempt, something happened, and Harry felt his magic stir.
Harry had just turned to offer advice when the air crackled with energy. Nox lifted her wings one last time—
—and the sea answered.
A wave surged up from behind her, rolling forward as if responding to her command. It wasn't large, but it was unmistakable.
They both froze. The wave crashed back down, leaving only stunned silence in its wake.
Harry's mouth went dry. "...Nox?"
She turned to him, eyes wide. "I felt something. I don't—"
Heart pounding, Harry swallowed hard. "Try again."
She did.
This time, Harry felt it again—a small, subtle pull on his own magic, like something was tethered between them. And then another wave answered, lifting and cresting in sync with her movements.
Nox slowly lowered her wings, breathing hard. "Mother… what was that?"
Harry didn't know.
But one thing was certain.
Nox—his dragon, his fire-breathing dragon—had just bent water.
Harry's mind raced as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Nox wasn't supposed to be able to manipulate water—dragons were creatures of flame, not fluid. And yet, there was no denying what had just occurred. He had felt it, the pull of magic, subtle but unmistakable, like a thread connecting them.
His thoughts spiralled, piecing together the possibilities.
"I think," he said slowly, watching as Nox shifted uncertainly in the wet sand, "it has something to do with my magic."
Nox's head tilted. "I don't understand."
Harry ran a hand through his damp hair, thinking. "Magic—especially elemental magic—operates on a deeper level than just control. It responds to intention, emotion, and affinity. What if… what if some of my magic settled in you?"
Nox blinked at him. "Settled?"
Harry nodded, growing more certain as he spoke. "Like an imprint. A bond. Ever since you hatched, we've been together. I've used magic around you constantly, trained in front of you, with you. When you were first hatched, I used to bathe you in my magic to keep you calm. Magic is reactive—it adapts, it learns. And dragons are inherently magical creatures. What if, over time, you absorbed some of my magic? Or—" He hesitated, thinking deeper. "Or what if my magic recognised you, accepted you as an extension of myself? A partner? A—"
"Hatchling?" Nox offered brightly.
Harry laughed. "Yes, a hatchling. My Hatchling" He reached out, placing a hand on her warm scales. "I think you're using my magic when you do that. Maybe not consciously, but it's there. Like a tether, linking us. That's why I felt the pull when you moved the water."
Nox's tail flicked, sending up a small spray of sand. "So… what else can I do?"
Harry chuckled. "That's what we'll have to find out."
Nox chirped in excitement, then suddenly perked up, her wings twitching. "But first—" she said, her voice turning playful. "You owe me a flight."
Harry blinked. "A flight? Nox, I can't fly. Not like you."
Nox huffed, nudging him with her snout. "You can lift yourself with the wind. But you can't go very high yet."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"
Nox grinned, all sharp teeth and amusement. "I'm saying I'm big enough now. I can carry you!"
Harry took a step back, eyes widening. "You want me to ride you?"
"Yes!" Nox flared her wings for emphasis. "I've seen you look longingly at the sky. You want to, Mother. Don't deny it."
Harry hesitated. The idea was thrilling, but—"It's dangerous. I could fall."
"Then hold on tight, I will catch Mother." she said simply, lowering herself so he could climb onto her back.
Harry took a deep breath, heart pounding. He'd dreamed of flying like this, soaring through the sky without a broom. Tentatively, he stepped forward, gripping the ridges of her spine, climbing and swinging himself onto her back. Her scales were warm beneath his hands, shifting slightly as she adjusted to his weight.
"Alright?" she asked, glancing back at him.
"Yeah," Harry breathed, his grip tightening. "Alright."
With a powerful push of her wings, Nox launched them into the air.
The first few moments were sheer chaos—wind rushing past him, his stomach lurching as the ground fell away. Harry clenched his thighs around Nox's body, gripping onto her ridges for dear life as she climbed higher and higher.
Then, something shifted. He could feel instincts that weren't his taking over. He adjusted his weight, moving with Nox rather than against her, and suddenly—
He was flying.
The sensation was indescribable. The sky stretched endless above them, the sea glimmering like liquid silver below. The wind wasn't fighting him—it was carrying him. Supporting him.
"This," he whispered, awed. "This is amazing."
Nox let out a delighted trill, twisting slightly to test his balance. "Told you!"
Harry laughed, exhilaration thrumming through him. He released one hand, stretching it out into the open air, feeling the currents whip around his fingers. For the first time in forever, he felt free.
Nox banked sharply, tilting her wings, and Harry instinctively leaned into the motion, his mind already mapping out how she moved, how the air worked around her. His elemental magic responded, guiding him, whispering secrets of the wind.
"Faster!" he called, grinning.
Nox obeyed immediately, pumping her wings harder. They shot forward like an arrow, slicing through the sky. Harry whooped, throwing his head back in sheer joy.
They spent what felt like hours soaring through the sky, looping around clouds, diving toward the water before pulling up just in time, twisting and turning in patterns that felt entirely natural.
Eventually, Nox began a slow descent back toward the cove. Harry's muscles ached, but he didn't care. As they landed, he slid off her back, stumbling slightly before steadying himself.
"That," he said breathlessly, "was the best thing I've ever done."
Nox preened. "Now you're a dragon."
Harry ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair, still grinning. "We're doing that again. A lot."
She purred happily, curling around him. "Whenever you want, Mother. Whenever you want."
As the night settled in around them, Harry lay back against Nox's side, still buzzing with excitement.
~
By late July, Harry had sent out the connected journals, and his friends had begun writing in them almost immediately. It wasn't long before a plan formed—one that had them all buzzing with anticipation.
Neville:Alright, so when are we doing this? I need to make sure Gran won't be around to question me when I suddenly vanish for hours.
Theo:Same here. Father's in France, but some of the portraits are nosy. I'll make sure I have an alibi.
Blaise: I don't need an excuse. Mother's off dealing with her latest unfortunate husband candidate. She won't notice.
Harry:I say we do it in the next few days. I've had Tilly cast a preservation spell on the Basilisk, so nothing decays before Luna gets back.
Luna:About that… my trip has been extended. Daddy wants to follow the migration of the Veela up through the Russian forests, and it's too good of an opportunity to pass up. I won't be back until mid-August.
Neville:Are you sure we should do this without you?
Luna:Yes, yes. You boys go ahead. Take some pictures for me?
Harry:Alright, we're set then.
Theo:Well, the school is empty, but we still have to be careful about the wards. The only way in is by house-elf.
Harry:Which means we're relying on Tilly. She can pop us into the Chamber without anyone knowing.
Blaise:Good.
Neville:I'll make sure my Gran is visiting some old pureblood friends. She'll be gone for the whole day, which means I won't have anyone questioning me.
Theo:I'll just tell the elves I'm 'studying magical history' and not to interrupt me. That'll keep them from snooping. The trick is to sound as boring as possible.
Blaise:And I'll just exist as usual. No one watches me too closely anyway.
Harry:Perfect. Tilly will get us in and out. Once we're inside, we'll secure the chamber, make sure nothing dangerous is left behind, and then figure out what to do with the Basilisk.
Luna:You should also check for any secret passageways. Hogwarts is full of them, and it wouldn't surprise me if the Chamber held more secrets than just the snake.
Harry:Good point. We'll search for anything useful.
Theo:Alright, so when exactly are we doing this?
Harry:Tomorrow night. Midnight. Everyone be ready, and make sure you don't get caught sneaking out of your houses.
Luna: Floo to the Rookery. Don't forget the password is Nargles.
Blaise:Oh please, have some faith in us, Potter. See you all tomorrow.
Harry closed his journal, heart thrumming with excitement. The plan was set. Tomorrow night, they would return to the Chamber of Secrets and uncover whatever mysteries it still held.
~
Early the next morning, they all gathered at the Rookery, their excitement and nerves a tangible energy in the cool summer air. Tilly was waiting, ready to take them two at a time to the Chamber of Secrets.
Harry was the first to go, with Theo accompanying him. The instant they popped in the vast, dimly lit cavern, Harry's breath caught slightly. The chamber was eerily silent, the weight of what had transpired here pressing down on him like an unseen force.
His heartbeat quickened as fleeting flashes of memory surfaced—the glow of Toms form, the deafening hiss of the Basilisk, the bone-deep pain of venom searing through his veins.
Theo, who had been taking in the sight of the carved serpent statues lining the walls, turned to him, frowning. "You alright?"
Harry blinked rapidly and took a slow, deliberate breath, shaking off the remnants of the past. "Yeah. Just—memories. I'm fine."
Theo gave him a searching look but nodded, letting it go for now.
Moments later, Tilly popped back in with Blaise and Neville. The second they laid eyes on the enormous corpse of the Basilisk, Theo, who had turned around, let out a low whistle.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. "I knew it was big, but this—" He shook his head, stunned.
Neville and Blaise were less composed.
"Merlin's saggy robes!" Blaise yelped, staring at the Basilisk's massive coils. "That thing could have swallowed a house!"
Neville let out an undignified squeak before clearing his throat. "You fought that? By yourself?"
Harry smirked slightly. "Well, Fawkes helped. Took out its eyes."
"Still, mate," Theo said, running a hand through his hair. "This is insane."
Blaise finally snapped out of his shock and grinned, stepping forward. "Alright, before we start working out what to do with this thing, we need to document this moment."
He nudged Theo, who immediately pulled out a sleek black magical camera.
Theo smirked, adjusting the lens. "Harry, stand next to it for comparison."
Harry groaned but did as he was told, stepping beside the massive serpent's head. Theo snapped several shots, the enchanted camera capturing subtle movements and the shifting glow of the enchanted lights Harry had conjured to illuminate the cavern.
Blaise clapped his hands together, looking positively delighted. "This is Slytherin heaven. Look at this place, the history, the sheer magnificence of it!"
Neville shook his head in amused exasperation. "I think you two are a little too happy about standing in an ancient chamber that housed a thousand-year-old murder snake."
"Legendary thousand-year-old murder snake," Theo corrected, still snapping pictures. "And it belongs to us now. Well, to Harry, but you get what I mean."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. Despite the eerie familiarity of the chamber, the energy of his friends lightened the atmosphere.
With the initial shock of the basilisk's sheer size settling, Harry and the others turned their focus to exploring the Chamber properly. If Salazar Slytherin had hidden one secret within the castle, who was to say there weren't more?
Theo ran a hand over one of the serpent carvings. "There have to be hidden passages here. Hogwarts thrives on them."
Neville nodded, eyes scanning the dimly lit stonework. "We should check every nook and cranny. This place is ancient—who knows what's buried here?"
Blaise grinned. "Then let's get to work."
They split up, scouring the cavernous space, pushing against walls, tapping on stones, and muttering incantations meant to reveal hidden pathways. After nearly twenty minutes of searching, Theo let out a triumphant noise.
"Over here! I think I found something."
Harry hurried over to where Theo was pressing against a section of the wall where the serpent carvings curled into an intricate design. Harry took a deep breath and whispered, "Open."
The stone groaned and slid inward, revealing a narrow passage. They shared a look before stepping inside.
The chamber beyond was lined with shelves and filled with the scent of old parchment and aged wood. Glass jars containing various substances lined the walls, and old cauldrons sat in the corner, covered in a thin layer of dust but still intact.
Neville's breath hitched. "These… these are ancient ingredients. Some of these plants went extinct centuries ago!"
Harry turned to him, eyebrows raised. "You recognise them?"
Neville nodded fervently, stepping forward and tracing his fingers over the labels. "This is Silphium. And this—this is Moonsap! They don't even exist anymore." He looked up at Harry, awe-struck. "Do you know what this means? There are seeds in here. If we can plant them, we can bring them back—this could change potion-making entirely."
Harry grinned. "Then take a couple. Whatever you think can be revived. I would like some cuttings though."
Neville hesitated, as though touching them would break the spell of discovery, then carefully pocketed two vials. "This is incredible, Harry."
Blaise let out a low whistle as he ran a hand over a large tome on a nearby table. "Slytherin really had his own research going on down here. We need to catalogue all of this."
Harry's eyes glinted. "Agreed."
Once they had checked every corner of the potions lab, they continued their search. The thrill of discovery was an intoxicating thing, and the knowledge that this place belonged to him only fuelled Harry's excitement.
After a while, they all regrouped in the main chamber. A thought struck Harry then, one that made his pulse quicken.
"Stand in different corners of the chamber," he instructed.
The others exchanged puzzled glances but did as he asked, moving to separate areas around the massive space.
Taking a steadying breath, Harry drew on his magic and cast a Sonorous Charm on himself before shouting one word that echoed off the chamber's walls, bouncing through the space with almost tangible force.
"Open!"
A deep rumble shook the ground beneath them. Cracks spiderwebbed through the floor, and then—
Several sections of the chamber shuddered and shifted.
Near Theo, a portion of the wall melted away to reveal another passage lined with statues of hooded figures. On Blaise's side, a hidden stairwell spiralled upward into darkness.
And in the very centre of the chamber—where the Basilisk had once emerged—an enormous, circular slab of stone ground open, revealing a set of stairs that led deep below.
Harry's heart pounded. He had known there was more.
Blaise let out a slow breath. "Now that was dramatic."
Theo smirked. "Of course it was. Harry the Heir of Slytherin, after all."
Harry turned to them, his grin widening. "Let's see where these stairs lead."
With cautious steps, the four of them descended the spiral staircase, Harry taking the lead. In his palm, a glowing orb of magic hovered, illuminating the passageway ahead with a cool, steady light. The air was heavy with age, thick with the scent of stone and something magic, raw and undisturbed for centuries.
Stretching his magic outward, Harry reached into the unseen space ahead, searching for any sign of danger. The tunnel pulsed with power, but there was nothing hostile—just a quiet hum, like a place waiting to be awakened.
"Feels… dormant," he murmured.
"Let's hope it stays that way," Theo muttered, keeping a hand on his wand.
The passage twisted downward for a few more minutes before ending abruptly at a lone wooden door. Unlike the stonework around them, this door was unmarked, simple but sturdy, with a tarnished brass handle.
Harry hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the knob. The instant his fingers brushed the metal, a sharp prick shot through his palm. He hissed, jerking back as a single drop of blood welled at the surface of his skin.
"Harry?" Neville asked, stepping closer.
The blood was drawn into the handle, the metal pulsing with a faint glow before a series of clicks echoed from within. Then, slowly, the door creaked open.
"Blood magic," Blaise murmured in appreciation. "It recognises you."
Harry flexed his fingers, stepping forward.
They entered cautiously, and the moment the last of them crossed the threshold, the sconces lining the walls flared to life, casting the room in flickering golden light.
Their breath caught as they took in their surroundings.
It was a library.
Ancient tomes lined the towering bookshelves, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and leather-bound knowledge. The room was larger than it appeared from the outside, filled with shelves, cabinets, and scattered furniture—old desks, worn armchairs, and tables covered in scrolls and astronomical instruments.
In one corner, a large, ornate telescope stood positioned near a domed section of the ceiling made entirely of enchanted glass, through which the night sky gleamed with unnatural clarity. Ancient maps—some rolled, some pinned to the walls—detailed unfamiliar constellations and markings that none of them immediately recognized.
Above a grand fireplace, a portrait hung, depicting a man who bore a striking resemblance to the carved statues in the Chamber of Secrets. His long black hair framed a sharp, aristocratic face, and even in sleep, his presence radiated authority.
"This is incredible," Theo breathed, his voice hushed with awe.
Blaise ran a hand over the spine of a thick tome, eyes glittering. "A personal archive… untouched, preserved for centuries."
Neville moved toward one of the tables, carefully picking up a scroll. "Some of these plants—I've never even heard of them. If this is Salazar Slytherin's collection, then some of these may not even exist anymore."
Harry took a slow step forward, his fingers tingling as he let his magic stretch into the room. It was welcoming him. "This wasn't just a library," he murmured. "It was a study, an observatory, a sanctuary."
Theo turned toward the portrait. "Think he'll wake up if we get too noisy?"
Blaise smirked. "Only one way to find out."
Neville shot him a look. "How about we don't antagonise the ancient wizard's portrait?"
Harry chuckled, though his gaze lingered on the sleeping figure. If this truly was Slytherin's private chamber, then there was no telling what knowledge lay hidden here.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "We have a lot to uncover. Let's get to work."
With the initial shock of discovering the library settling, the four of them moved further into the room, each drawn to different corners of the vast space. Dust particles swirled lazily in the golden light of the sconces, disturbed by their quiet footsteps.
Neville ran his fingers over the fragile pages of an open tome on one of the central tables, his eyes scanning the delicate script. "This handwriting—it's not in any language I recognise."
Theo, flipping through a book of his own, hummed. "A lot of this looks like archaic Latin. But some of these symbols…" He trailed off, running his fingers over a series of strange diagrams. "They don't match any known magical scripts."
Blaise, who had wandered toward the astronomical instruments, adjusted one of the delicate lenses on a brass telescope, peering through it. "The constellations here are… wrong. Either Slytherin was tracking something no one else was, or this was enchanted to show the stars as they were thousands of years ago."
Harry, standing before the massive portrait above the fireplace, felt something stir deep in his magic. The portrait's occupant, the regal-looking man with piercing eyes even in slumber, looked eerily like the carved statues in the Chamber. There was no plaque, no identifying name. But Harry knew.
"It has to be Salazar Slytherin himself," he murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear.
Neville glanced over his shoulder. "Do you think he'll wake up? Portraits are usually enchanted with sentience."
Harry hesitated, then reached out with his magic, letting it pulse forward in a gentle wave. The air in the room grew still. Then, almost imperceptibly, the painted eyelids twitched.
A sharp intake of breath sounded from Theo. "Did he—?"
Before he could finish his sentence, the portrait's eyes snapped open. They were a striking green, eerily similar to Harry's own. For a long moment, the figure remained still, as if assessing them, before his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.
"Ah," the voice was rich and smooth, carrying the weight of centuries. "It appears that I have guests."
Blaise let out a low whistle. "Well, that's not unsettling at all."
Salazar Slytherin's portrait tilted his head slightly. "Who stands before me?"
Harry took a steady breath and bowed his head slightly. "Harry Potter."
Something flickered in those ancient green eyes. "Ah. The Heir."
Theo stiffened. "How do you—?"
"My chambers do not open to just anyone, boy," Slytherin replied, his gaze sharp as he took them all in. "For centuries, this place has remained untouched. That you stand here means my blood recognises you."
Harry swallowed hard. "Through blood and conquest." Recalling his inheritance test.
Slytherin leaned forward slightly. "Perhaps. But blood is not always the sole marker of worth. You, child, have the right magic. That much is clear."
Neville shifted uncomfortably. "So… is this library only meant for your descendants?"
Slytherin chuckled, the sound like rolling thunder. "Knowledge is meant to be earned. Those who prove themselves worthy will find the doors opening for them." His gaze flickered to Blaise and Theo. "Your blood sings to this place as well. Descendants of old houses, are you not?"
Theo nodded. "Nott. And Zabini."
Slytherin smirked. "Fitting. And you?" He turned his gaze to Neville, scrutinising him.
Neville hesitated before squaring his shoulders. "Neville Longbottom." Making Salazar nod.
Harry cleared his throat. "Why was this place hidden? Why lock away all this knowledge?"
Slytherin sighed, leaning back. "Because knowledge, in the wrong hands, is dangerous beyond measure. The other founders… they did not all agree with my methods. But I had no wish to see centuries of study lost to ignorance. So I created this refuge."
Blaise, always one to appreciate hidden power, grinned. "Well, lucky for us."
Slytherin's gaze darkened. "Do not be so quick to celebrate, boy. Secrets have a way of demanding their price."
Harry felt a shiver go down his spine at the warning. Still, the promise of what they could learn here was too great to ignore.
"Can we study here?" Harry asked cautiously. "We want to uncover what was lost."
Slytherin's expression remained unreadable before, finally, he gave a slow nod. "You may study. But know this—knowledge is a gift, and a curse. Tread wisely."
The four exchanged glances, determination gleaming in their eyes. Whatever lay ahead, they were ready.
And so, with the watchful gaze of Salazar Slytherin's portrait upon them, they began their search through the past.
As the others continued their exploration, Harry lingered near the portrait, feeling the weight of Slytherin's gaze upon him. After a moment, the ancient wizard spoke again, voice quieter, more measured.
"You have questions," Slytherin said knowingly. "Ask them."
Harry hesitated before nodding. "I do. A lot, actually. But I suppose the most important is… do you know what became of your bloodline?"
Slytherin's expression darkened. "I have been asleep for many centuries. I can only sense fragments, echoes of those who carried my magic. But tell me, child, what has become of my heirs?"
Harry took a steadying breath. "The last known heir of your line… became a Dark Lord. Tom Riddle, or as he renamed himself, Lord Voldemort. He drenched himself in so much black magic that he lost most of his human features. People fear even his name."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Slytherin's painted features before he hummed thoughtfully. "And what of him now?"
"Defeated. Twice, technically. First as an infant when he tried to kill me, and again in recent years, when his lingering presence was destroyed." Harry met Slytherin's gaze. "He was clever and powerful. I think you might have liked him… at least, when he was young. Before he lost himself."
Slytherin let out a long, contemplative sigh. "A shame. To have fallen so far… reduced to a shade. My house was meant for greatness, not for blind ambition devoid of wisdom."
Harry tilted his head. "Then why did it fall so easily?"
Slytherin studied him for a long moment before finally speaking. "Because ambition is a fire, and without guidance, fire consumes everything—including itself. It seems my house has been left without a guiding hand for far too long."
Harry exhaled. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I can control fire then, isn't it?"
Slytherin's eyes gleamed. "An elemental? That is rare even in my time, but that alone won't make you a true heir."
Harry smirked. "Then I guess I have work to do."
A small chuckle escaped Slytherin's lips. "Indeed."
A voice called from across the room. "Harry! We should probably get going before gran gets back!"
Harry turned to see Neville waving him over. He nodded before glancing back at the portrait. "I'll come back soon. There's a lot I would like to talk about, if you like." Sending an unsure smile at the portrait.
Slytherin inclined his head. "Then I shall be here, waiting."
With one last look at the ancient library, Harry turned and made his way toward his friends, already planning his next visit to the hidden chamber.
~
The night air was cool and crisp as Harry sat on the soft sand of the cove, staring out over the dark, endless sea. The waves lapped gently against the shore, shimmering under the silver glow of the moon. Above him, the stars twinkled in quiet celebration, though tonight, they felt a little lonelier than usual.
It was nearly midnight—his birthday was minutes away—and for the first time since he had met Luna, she wouldn't be here to celebrate it with him. She had sent him messages through their journal all day, making sure he wasn't feeling too alone, but it wasn't the same. He didn't begrudge her spending time with her father, he was just feeling a little lonely.
Beside him, Nox stretched her massive wings before curling them in, settling down next to him with a soft thump. The fire in front of them crackled warmly, golden embers floating into the night sky as the scent of roasting fish filled the air.
"Mother," Nox purred, nudging him with her snout, her large eyes glowing in the firelight. "You are sad."
Harry huffed a small laugh, reaching up to scratch behind one of her large horns. "Not sad, exactly," he admitted. "Just… missing our Moon. It's the first time she won't be here for my hatching day."
Nox chirped in understanding and then gestured with her head toward the fire. "I caught these for you. They are fat fish! They will make you strong!" she declared proudly.
Harry grinned, his heart warming at her effort. "They look amazing, Nox. Thank you."
Nox rumbled happily and stretched out her long neck, resting her head on the sand. Her gaze flickered thoughtfully to the flames, and she hummed. "You caught many fish for my first hatchday. And the big soft creature!" Her wings twitched excitedly at the memory. "It is still warm! Still soft! Still mine!"
Harry chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, that thing was huge. Eleven feet of pure fluff." He remembered how she had curled around it possessively the moment he had enlarged the stuffed toy hippocampus for her, purring in delight as she nuzzled into its warmth. He had charmed it to be resistant to damage and always warm, making it the perfect comfort object for a growing dragon.
"Best gift!" Nox declared firmly, her tail swishing in the sand. "But now, I give you gifts."
Harry smiled, glancing at the fire, at the stars, at the vast ocean stretching out before them. Despite the ache of missing Luna, he felt content. He leaned back on his hands, listening to the crackling fire, counting down the last moments of his birthday.
One more minute.
He sighed, closing his eyes. I wish Luna was here.
"I hope I'm not late."
Harry's breath hitched.
He turned so quickly that he almost fell over, eyes widening in disbelief. Standing just a few feet away, illuminated by the fire's glow, was Luna.
She was slightly windblown, her long blonde hair a little messy from travel, but she was smiling, her bright eyes filled with warmth and mischief.
"Luna!" Harry exclaimed, surging to his feet.
She barely had time to react before he threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She laughed, wrapping her arms around him in return, her hands gentle against his back.
"Happy birthday, Harry," she murmured against his shoulder.
He pulled back slightly, staring at her in astonishment. "How—? You were supposed to be on an expedition!"
Luna tilted her head, her usual dreamy expression in place. "I was. But I asked Tilly to bring me here. Just for a little while. I couldn't miss your birthday, Harry."
Something in Harry's chest unclenched at her words. She had travelled all this way—just for him.
Nox let out a delighted trill and nudged Luna with her snout, almost knocking her over. "Nestmate Moon! You are here!"
Luna giggled and reached up to stroke the dragon's snout affectionately. "Hello, Nox."
Harry shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I can't believe you did this."
Luna's eyes twinkled. "Of course you can."
He let out a small laugh. "Yeah. I suppose I can."
They sat down together by the fire, the warmth of the flames warding off the cool sea breeze. Nox stretched her wings behind them, creating a protective curve around their little gathering.
Harry reached for one of the roasted fish, handing another to Luna, who took it with a pleased hum. They ate in comfortable silence, the crackling fire and the rhythmic sound of waves filling the air.
After a while, Luna leaned her head against his shoulder. "Did you make a wish?"
Harry glanced at her, then at the fire, a soft smile forming. "I did."
Luna's fingers played idly with the hem of her robe. "And did it come true?"
Harry looked at her, at Nox curled up beside them, at the vast night sky above, and felt something settle deep inside him.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It did."
Luna smiled, and they sat there together, letting the stars celebrate his birthday with them.
~
August 6th arrived, and with it, the continued nightmare of Aunt Marge's visit. She had arrived the night before, and each moment was more insufferable than the last.
Harry stood in the kitchen, carefully flipping a slab of steak in a pan, the sizzling sound momentarily drowning out the drone of Marge's grating voice from the dining room. He had spent years perfecting the art of tuning her out, but tonight, she was especially determined to get under his skin.
"Vernon, I just don't know how you've put up with this boy for so long," Marge sneered, cutting into her meal. "From what you've told me, he's been nothing but a burden. And with his breeding—well, it's in the blood, isn't it?" She took a sip from her wine glass, smacking her lips. "Bad blood will always tell."
Harry gritted his teeth, gripping the handle of the pan tightly. Stay calm. Just get through the night.
"Now, take my dogs," Marge continued. "Ripper's got the right pedigree, good breeding! But you let in a stray—one of those nasty mutts off the street—and before you know it, you've got a menace on your hands! It's the same with that lot, isn't it?" She tilted her head toward Harry with an unpleasant smirk. "Your parents were no better. A drunk and a layabout—"
Harry's grip on the pan trembled. Breathe. Don't react. Don't give her the satisfaction. Don't do it. Don't do it.
"You see, Vernon, if there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup!"
Something snapped inside Harry.
The kitchen lights flickered dangerously, and an eerie silence fell over the room. A low hum of raw, untamed magic curled around his spine, reacting to his growing fury. His vision blurred, not with tears, but with sheer frustration. He clenched his fists, forcing his magic down, suppressing it—
And then, the most ridiculous thing happened.
Aunt Marge let out an odd choking noise, her fork clattering against her plate. Her hands flailed as her body expanded—not in weight, but like a grotesque balloon filling with air. Her face stretched, her cheeks puffing out, and before anyone could react, she was floating out of her chair.
"Vernon!" she screeched, her voice high and panicked as she began rising toward the ceiling. "What's happening?!"
Dudley had dropped his fork, staring in stunned horror. Petunia let out a strangled gasp, while Uncle Vernon lunged forward, trying desperately to grab her legs before she floated completely out of reach.
"BOY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Vernon roared, his face turning an alarming shade of purple as he clawed at the air.
Harry glared at him, his heart racing. He hadn't meant to do it—he'd just been trying to contain his anger, but his magic had responded in the most dramatic way possible.
Marge flailed helplessly, bumping into the ceiling, her skirt flipping as she rotated slowly. "Put me down this instant!"
Harry took one look at Vernon's murderous expression and knew he was done with this house. It would be hard to scare Vernon into submission if the obliviate squads showed up to reprimand him for his accidental magic. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs. He grabbed his trunk, stuffing it with his belongings as fast as he could.
Hedwig hooted from her cage, sensing the tension.
"We're leaving," Harry muttered. "I don't care where, but we're leaving. Go to Nevilles for now, okay?"
He went to write a quick message to Luna, but when he opened the journal there was already one there: Don't go to the Cove, the Phoenix is watching.Don't go to the Cove? It had been his plan to lay low there, but he had never been one to ignore Luna's warnings, he wasn't going to start now.
Within minutes, he had everything packed. He shrunk his trunk and Hedwigs cage placing it in his satchel and went down the stairs, ignoring the continued screeches from above. Vernon made a move toward him, but Harry shot him a look so furious that the large man hesitated.
"I'm done," Harry said flatly. "I've had it. I'm leaving for the rest of the summer. I'll send the obliviators to sort out Marge."
And with that, he shoved open the front door and marched out into the darkened streets.
The night air hit him like a slap, but he kept walking, his mind buzzing. He couldn't stay at the Cove, not if Dumbledore is watching, but maybe the Leaky Cauldron? Anywhere was better than Privet Drive.
A flicker of movement in the distance made him pause. A large, dark dog sat on the corner of the street, watching him.
Harry frowned, taking a cautious step forward.
Before he could make reach the shadowy canine, a loud BANG erupted from the empty road beside him. He jumped back as the massive, violently purple triple-decker bus screeched to a halt in front of him, its golden lettering shimmering in the dim light.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard!" A lanky young man stepped forward, beaming. "My name is Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor for this evening. Where ya heading?"
Harry hesitated for only a moment before adjusting his grip on his bag. "The Leaky Cauldron."
Stan nodded and gestured for him to climb aboard. "Right then! Hop on."
The moment he settled into one of the violently bouncing beds, the bus lurched forward, sending him sprawling. This was as bad as he remembered it the first time, but Harry just sighed, rubbing his temples.
At least he was free.
As he stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past, he wondered what the rest of the summer would bring. He had just blown up Aunt Marge like a human balloon, run away from Privet Drive, and was now speeding through the streets of London in a chaotic magical bus.
He leaned back, exhaling slowly.
As the Knight Bus screeched to a halt outside the Leaky Cauldron, Harry let out a steadying breath, shouldering his bag before stepping down onto the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley's entrance. The warm glow from inside the pub cast flickering shadows onto the pavement, and the murmur of voices within was a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of Privet Drive.
Pushing open the door, Harry was met with the familiar scent of firewood, ale, and something faintly spicy that always seemed to linger in the air of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the barkeep, glanced up from polishing a tankard, his wrinkled face splitting into a grin.
"Well, well! If it ain't young Mr. Potter. Bit early for the school crowd, eh?"
Harry nodded, stepping closer. "I need a room for the rest of the summer, Tom."
Tom gave him an appraising look, then nodded toward the stairs. "That can be arranged, but before you get settled, there's someone waitin' for ya upstairs. Minister of Magic himself, in the meeting room. Been here a while, in fact."
Harry stiffened slightly, though outwardly he kept his expression neutral. Fudge? Waiting for me? That couldn't be good. He barely managed to resist the urge to scowl. This had all the hallmarks of an ambush. What does he want, and more importantly, how did he know?
"Right," Harry said, keeping his voice calm. "Before I head up, could you let the proper authorities know about an… accidental magic incident? My uncle's sister got inflated, and I doubt the Muggles can handle a floating woman indefinitely."
Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "Already taken care of, lad. Seems the Ministry caught wind of it right quick, though they don't seem all that fussed over it."
Harry narrowed his eyes slightly but nodded.
Straightening his shoulders, Harry made his way toward the stairs, his mind racing through possibilities. The past two years had taught him to be cautious—especially when it came to authority figures. And after the manipulations he had uncovered surrounding Dumbledore's involvement in his life, he wasn't about to trust anyone without carefully considering their motives.
As he reached the door to the private meeting room, he took a deep breath, schooling his expression into polite curiosity. He pushed the door open.
Cornelius Fudge was seated at the large wooden table, his bowler hat placed neatly in front of him. The Minister's fingers tapped against the polished surface, and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looked up at Harry's entrance and forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Ah, Mr. Potter! There you are! Please, do come in, my boy, come in!"
Harry stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He made sure to keep his posture relaxed, though every sense was on high alert. "Minister," he greeted, inclining his head slightly. "I didn't expect to have such an official welcome."
Fudge chuckled, though it sounded a bit too high-pitched. "Yes, well! We've been keeping an eye on things, of course. What with everything that happened last year, we wanted to ensure you were… comfortable."
Harry resisted the urge to scoff. Since when has the Ministry ever cared about my comfort? "That's very considerate," he said instead, his voice smooth. "What exactly can I do for you, Minister?"
Fudge dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Well, my dear boy, it's more about what we can do for you. We at the Ministry are always looking out for young wizards such as yourself, and given your unique circumstances, we thought it best to—ah—extend an offer."
Harry arched a brow. "An offer?"
Fudge cleared his throat. "Yes, yes! You see, we were quite distressed to hear that you'd left your relatives so suddenly. We wouldn't want you all alone in the world, now would we?"
There it is.
Harry smiled slightly, though there was no warmth in it. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm perfectly fine here in Diagon Alley."
Fudge shifted in his seat. "Ah, well, my dear boy, wouldn't you be more comfortable somewhere… safer? Perhaps with a trusted family?"
Harry's smile didn't waver. "The Leaky Cauldron is safe enough, Minister. Unless there's something specific I should be worried about?"
Fudge chuckled weakly. "Well, no, no, of course not. Just… you never know, do you? Best to have plenty of people looking out for you."
Ah. So that was it. The Ministry—or someone in it—wanted to keep very close tabs on him.
Harry's mind raced. Is this Dumbledore's doing? Or is the Minister trying to play his own game?
He met Fudge's gaze and made a show of appearing thoughtful before nodding slightly. "I see what you mean. But, Minister, I think I'd rather stay in the Alley until school starts. There's plenty to do here, and it's safer than anywhere else for someone like me, don't you think?"
Fudge's fingers twitched against the table. "Er—well—yes, I suppose, but—"
"Excellent!" Harry said brightly. "And, of course, it'll be good to keep up appearances. Unless you want me to stay with one of my friends, Augusta Longbottom has been wanting to meet me, or perhaps Lord Nott…"
Fudge looked as though he had swallowed a lemon. "No, no, let's not be hasty, dear boy, but—"
"I appreciate you looking out for me, Minister," Harry continued, "but I'll be just fine here. Thank you for your time."
Fudge opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally forcing a smile. "Yes, yes, of course. If you need anything, do let us know."
Harry inclined his head. "Of course."
As he turned and left the room, he could feel Fudge's eyes burning into his back.
Once he was safely out of the Minister's sight, Harry exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't entirely sure what Fudge was after, but one thing was clear:
Harry had no intention of making it easy for them.
Not anymore.
~
The morning sun filtered through the windows of Harry's Leaky Cauldron room as he sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping open the enchanted journal. The moment his quill touched the page, neat cursive handwriting appeared.
Neville:You're staying in Diagon Alley for the rest of summer?
Blaise:That's a power move, mate. Bet half the Alley will be gossiping about you in a week.
Theo:More like half a day. When are we coming to visit?Harry smirked and penned his reply.
Harry:Come whenever. I'll be here until September.
As he set the journal aside, a message appeared in the other journal, this one in Luna's distinct, flowing script. Unlike the others, it was addressed only to him.
You made the right choice, Harry. The phoenix would have searched for if you went to the cove. He would have been closer to the truth than ever.
Harry stiffened, gripping the quill tighter. Can't have the old man was growing suspicious just yet. Harry exhaled slowly, tapping the end of the quill against the journal.
~
Grimbok, sat across from Harry in a heavily warded meeting room deep within Gringotts. The goblin's sharp, beady eyes studied him with approval, a rare expression for his kind.
"It has been some time since our last face-to-face meeting, Lord Peverell," Grimbok stated, folding his hands together. "Your letters have been most illuminating."
"And your replies have been helpful," Harry replied, leaning forward. "But we need to go over everything again, especially what you've uncovered recently."
Grimbok nodded. "Very well. To summarise: Over the past two years, Albus Dumbledore has continued to make several unauthorised transactions from accounts under your name. Some of these funds were transferred into obscure accounts, but we traced a significant portion directly into the coffers of the Order of the Phoenix, which has had many outgoing transactions into multiple accounts. We are still slowly going around the confidentiality clauses but once you accept your heirships, we can cut the red tape so to speak."
Harry's jaw tightened. "So he's been using my money to fund his little vigilante group?" Remembering the research he and Luna did on the group a couple of years ago.
"Precisely," Grimbok confirmed. "Additionally, he has removed artifacts of notable value from the Potter main vault, claiming them for 'safekeeping.' These include several ancestral grimoires, and a number of enchanted heirlooms."
Harry inhaled sharply. "And you recently discovered he was sending books to another vault?"
Grimbok's expression darkened. "Yes. Several high-value tomes have been funnelled through indirect transactions, all leading to one recipient: Hermione Granger. She does not have an account manager, and the account is less than 5 years old so we have more leeway."
Harry froze at that. "Granger?"
"Indeed," Grimbok confirmed, sliding a ledger toward him. "She received these books over the past two years. A large portion of them were magically sealed volumes containing restricted magical knowledge—knowledge only your bloodline were meant to inherit."
Harry gritted his teeth. The pieces were clicking together too easily now. "And you also said… Dumbledore paid for her medical treatment? When she was in a coma?"
Grimbok inclined his head. "Correct. Records indicate that Dumbledore personally funded her stay at St. Mungo's following the troll incident in your first year. It appears she was under specialised care until her return to Hogwarts."
Harry clenched his fists. The timeline made sense now. Hermione had barely spoken to him before the troll attack unless it was to pester him about his grades—but after? She had latched onto him like glue. Had Dumbledore tried planting her in his life? Groomed her to keep an eye on him?
"I want it back," Harry said, voice sharp with anger. "I want every stolen book, every heirloom, everything tracked down. She was never given permission to access any of it. When were ready, we take everything back."
Grimbok's lips curled into something resembling a pleased smirk. "It will be done, Lord Peverell."
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. "Now, let's move on to something else. What can be done with a thousand-year-old Basilisk?"
Grimbok's expression turned calculating. "Ah. The legendary serpent."
"It's massive," Harry said. "Fully intact, aside from the eyes. What can be salvaged?"
"Nearly everything," Grimbok answered, eyes gleaming. "The hide alone is worth a fortune—stronger than dragonhide, resistant to nearly all magical elements. The fangs, still venomous, are invaluable for both potion-making and weaponry. The bones could be used for crafting wands or magical conduits."
Harry nodded. "And the blood?"
Grimbok leaned forward. "Highly potent. A rare ingredient in high-level rituals. If properly preserved, it could be sold to select buyers or used in spellcraft of immense power."
Harry's mind whirred with possibilities. "I want to keep some of it—especially the venom, fangs and hide. The rest, I want catalogued and prepared for sale to trusted clients only. No Ministry, no Dumbledore." He pauses for a second recalling something he had heard, "and none shall be sold to Potions Master Severus Snape." Feeling a bit vindictive.
Grimbok's smirk widened. "A wise decision. We will ensure that your assets are handled with the utmost discretion."
Harry exhaled slowly. He had come in with questions, but now, he had a plan.
Harry leaned forward, arms resting on the polished wood of the meeting table, his emerald gaze locked with Grimbok's sharp eyes. "I want to finalise the plans for the Basilisk. There's too much value in it to let it go to waste. And the preservation charm is fading fast because of its magical resistance."
Grimbok nodded, steepling his clawed fingers. "Agreed. Its worth is unparalleled. However, proper extraction and processing will require expertise. I propose we survey the corpse in person."
Harry smiled. "That was my next suggestion. We go tomorrow. That way, we can determine exactly how we want to divide the parts."
The goblin's eyes gleamed with interest. "Now, onto terms of distribution. Standard broker fees are fifteen percent."
Harry scoffed. "Absolutely not. I know the value of what I have. Gringotts gets five percent."
Grimbok narrowed his gaze. "Ten. This requires discretion and special handling."
"Six," Harry countered. "And you get first access to purchase select parts at a discounted rate."
Grimbok's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Eight percent. Final offer."
Harry tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness before nodding. "Seven percent. And half of the meat stays with the goblins."
Grimbok exhaled through his nose. "Done. I shall get the contract drawn up."
Harry tapped his fingers on the table. "Would dragons be able to consume Basilisk meat?"
Grimbok's brows lifted. "A fascinating question. The venom might pose a risk, but properly treated, it could be one of the most nutrient-rich meats in existence. Why do you ask?"
Harry smiled. "I have a growing dragon to feed."
Grimbok let out a low chuckle. "Then I shall have our specialists analyse the viability of such a diet."
Harry leaned back. "Next, I want to keep over half the skin. The fangs—I want to keep half the largest ones, and some of the smallest. And the Skull. I would like the skull intact."
Grimbok's gave a short nod.
Harry produced a small stack of photos, sliding them across the table. "Theo took these in the Chamber. You can use them to showcase the Basilisk to potential buyers."
Grimbok picked up one of the images, his usual neutral expression shifting to something closer to awe. "By the ancestors…" He traced a claw over the glossy surface. "This size…this is not merely a kill. This is a conquest."
Harry arched a brow. "Meaning?"
Grimbok set the photo down carefully. "To slay such a beast alone marks you as a warrior in the eyes of my kind. Even if it was out of necessity, it is a feat worthy of recognition."
Something warm settled in Harry's chest at the goblin's tone. He hesitated before reaching into his pocket and pulling out one of the largest Basilisk fangs he went back for. Without a word, he extended it toward Grimbok.
The goblin's brows lifted in clear surprise. He took the fang, running a thumb over its smooth, deadly surface. "You are gifting this to me?"
Harry nodded. "Consider it a token of appreciation. You've been upfront with me when most aren't. I value that."
Grimbok turned slightly, as if checking something on the far wall, but Harry caught the small, hidden smile before it vanished beneath the goblin's usual professionalism. "A rare gesture, Lord Peverell. I accept."
Harry smiled. "Good. Then we'll meet here tomorrow, and I'll have my house elf take us there."
Grimbok tapped the fang against the table. "A profitable venture indeed. I look forward to it."
~
Harry rose early the next morning, his instincts on high alert as he stepped into the streets of Diagon Alley. The weight of unseen eyes pressed against him, and he suppressed the urge to tense.
Aurors.
They weren't obvious—never standing too close, never looking directly at him for too long—but he could feel them, the flickers of movement in the corners of his vision. They were watching him, tracking his movements.
Why now? He knew he had rattled Dumbledore and the Ministry with his refusal to stay at the Dursleys, but this level of surveillance was excessive.
Without breaking stride, he let his magic ripple outward as soon as he was hidden by a stall. Magic curled around him, drawn by his will, clinging to him like a living veil. In moments, he became a flickering mirage in the morning light, his presence blurred.
Moving smoothly through the Alley, he slipped unnoticed into Gringotts, making his way down to the private meeting chamber where Grimbok awaited him, slowly removing his veil.
The goblin looked up from a set of scrolls and gave Harry an approving nod. "Clever trick, Lord Peverell."
Harry dropped the Veil of Shadows. "People are watching me. Aurors. Any idea why?"
Grimbok's expression darkened slightly. "Only whispers of an escaped convict. But I have yet to find out who. Come, we have work to do."
Harry called for Tilly and she took both their hands and left the bank with a pop.
Even though Harry had been here multiple times now, the sheer enormity of the Basilisk still made his breath catch.
Grimbok, however, was stunned.
The goblin took slow, measured steps toward the fallen serpent, his sharp eyes scanning its length. He exhaled slowly, tracing a hand along its hardened scales. "Fifty-eight and a half feet," he murmured, almost reverently. "This… is a masterpiece of nature and magic combined."
Harry nodded. "And now it belongs to me."
"Yes, I can feel your claim upon it." Grimbok shot him an approving look before beginning to take more precise measurements. "With the proper extraction methods, nearly every part of this beast can be harvested. The venom alone—still potent—will fetch fortunes. The hide is nearly impenetrable, far beyond dragonhide in resilience. And the bones…"
He trailed off, shaking his head in admiration. "Lord Peverell, do you realise what you have here?"
"A rather large payday?"
Grimbok chuckled. "That, and a legendary feat. If word of this gets out, you will not just be seen as a wizard, but a hunter among magical communities."
Harry let that sink in, then gestured toward a side passage where the collapsed tunnel lay. "Before we do anything, there's something I need to deal with."
Grimbok followed as Harry led him to the cave-in site. Massive chunks of rock and debris blocked the passage where the explosion had separated him from Ron and Lockhart during the battle.
Harry stepped forward, closing his eyes. The air around him shifted, thickened with power as he reached into the earth itself. He could feel the broken stone, the way it had fallen unnaturally, the weight pressing down in layers.
Raising his fists, the rock groaned.
With another, it moved.
The earth shuddered as the cave-in unravelled, dust rising as the heavy slabs lifted and slid back into place. Within moments, the passage was open again, as if the collapse had never happened.
Grimbok watched in silent awe.
"I see you have been practicing your gift. And you command it with ease," the goblin finally said, his tone bordering on hushed respect.
Harry turned back, rolling his shoulders. "I avoided doing this that day because I didn't want Dumbledore to find out about my gift…seeing as you already know, I don't mind showing you."
Grimbok let out a sharp breath before shaking his head, muttering something in Gobbledegook. "You continue to surprise."
They moved further into the chamber until Grimbok suddenly stopped, eyes widening as he spotted something in the corner. "By the ancestors…"
Harry followed his gaze.
He had forgotten about that, the massive shed skin of the basilisk. It was translucent, tinged with green and gold, the scales still shimmering faintly despite being discarded.
"This is… remarkable," Grimbok breathed. "The magic is weaker than the living beast, but even this carries immense value."
Harry ran a hand over the smooth surface. "How valuable are we talking?"
Grimbok's eyes gleamed. "Spell-resistant. Can be reinforced into armour, clothing, even high-tier spell-absorbing materials. Not as potent as the actual hide, but still worth fortunes."
Harry grinned. "Then let's add it to the sale list."
Grimbok nodded before reaching into his robes, producing a small, rune-carved stone. He pressed his claw against it, and the air around them pulsed. A ripple of magic spread outward, vanishing into the chamber walls.
Moments later, there was a crack.
A group of five goblins appeared, transported via portkey, their sharp eyes immediately falling on the Basilisk.
A stunned silence fell over the chamber.
Then—
"BY THE ANCESTORS!"
"IS THIS—"
"…KILLED THIS?!"
The goblins erupted into excited chatter, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of disbelief and admiration.
Grimbok let them babble for a few moments before clearing his throat. "Enough. We have work to do."
The goblins quickly composed themselves, though their eyes continued flickering between Harry and the massive corpse with barely contained excitement.
Harry crossed his arms. "Well, gentlemen, let's get started, shall we?"
~
A few days after their expedition to the Chamber, Harry received a note from Grimbok, its contents short but weighty.
Sirius Black, your godfather, has escaped Azkaban. Tread carefully—we do not yet know the full story behind his imprisonment, but it is said he murdered 12 muggles and a wizard, Peter Pettigrew. We have been unable to find his trial transcript or records.
Sitting in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry tapped the parchment against his palm, his mind racing. He had heard of Black before, in passing and from his inheritance test, but never anything beyond the fact that he had betrayed his parents. He had always wondered why Black had made him his heir?
Determined to get more perspectives, he waited for Neville, Blaise, and Theo to meet in his room. When they arrived, Harry wasted no time, throwing up a silencing spell before turning to them.
"What do you know about Sirius Black?" he asked.
Blaise exchanged a glance with Theo before shrugging. "Not much," he admitted. "Other than the standard. He was your father's best friend, he betrayed your parents, and then he went mad and killed Pettigrew and twelve Muggles."
Neville nodded. "Gran always said he was dangerous, but she never talked about him much beyond that. Just that he was a Black and trouble followed him."
Theo leaned back, thoughtful. "My father never mentioned him as a Death Eater, and believe me, he would have—he liked parading his connections when I was younger. The Blacks were always a… complicated family. Powerful, but divided. If Black had truly been loyal to the Dark Lord, my father would have used that to his advantage. But he never spoke of him in that way."
Blaise tilted his head, studying Harry. "But that's not the most interesting part, is it? The real question is—why did you ask us? You clearly know something more."
Harry hesitated for only a moment before exhaling sharply. "Sirius Black made me the Black heir."
Blaise sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. "You're heir Black?"
Harry nodded. "It was something I found out when I took an inheritance test. I didn't bring it up before because…well."
Theo let out a low whistle. "Draco is going to lose his mind. He's been bragging that he'd claim the Black lordship when he turns seventeen."
Harry scoffed. "That's impossible. It can't be contested. But that raises an even bigger question—why would he name me heir if he was a Death Eater? If he really betrayed my parents? That doesn't add up."
Neville frowned. "Maybe he regretted it? Tried to make amends?"
Harry shook his head. "No. He named me heir before he went to Azkaban. If he was really the one who betrayed my parents, why would he ensure I inherited the Black fortune and magic? It doesn't make sense."
Blaise looked like he had a sudden epiphany, "Black hasn't accepted the Black lordship yet though, his grandfather Arcturus Black held it until he passed in 1991, and Black was in Azkaban. Which means Arcturus named you heir as well! It also means that he didn't disown Black. It would be strange to make you heir if they followed the Dark Lord, wouldn't it?"
They all took a moment to think about that. Harry was slightly saddened that he had family still living until the year he entered Hogwarts.
Theo was silent for a moment before saying, "There's something else, isn't there?"
Harry nodded and passed them Grimbok's note. As they read it, Blaise's jaw clenched. "No trial?"
Neville's fingers tightened around the parchment. "They threw him in Azkaban without a trial?! That— That's—!"
"Illegal," Theo finished darkly. "If there's no record of a trial, then we don't know what really happened."
Harry sighed. "That's why I wanted your thoughts. I don't know if he's innocent. I just know things aren't adding up, and until I get more answers, I'm not trusting anyone's version of events."
Theo leaned forward. "Alright. What else? I can see it in your face—you're holding something back."
Harry exhaled slowly. "I need help. I need to be emancipated."
There was silence for a moment before Blaise asked, "Why now?"
Harry's jaw clenched. "Because of Dumbledore. He's my magical guardian. I never told you everything, but I trust you. You're my friends. He's been stealing from my vaults since the night my parents died. Even the family grimoires, sending tomes to Granger's vault."
"What?" Theo looked stunned. "That— That's practically spitting on family magic! The sheer disrespect!"
Neville was shaking his head in disbelief. "And he put you with your Muggle relatives? Knowing they hated magic?"
Harry nodded grimly. "And had a squib spy on me the entire time. If I hadn't found a magical snake when I was eight, I wouldn't have even known about magic until my Hogwarts letter."
Theo's expression darkened. "That man has no right to call himself your guardian."
Blaise leaned forward. "You said you need to be emancipated. But if you take up your heirship rings, wouldn't that lock him out of your vaults?"
Harry exhaled sharply. "Yes, but it would also alert him and he would still be overseer of everything. Without proof, Dumbledore could petition the Wizengamot to keep his position. But if I'm emancipated, the ancient laws will see me as an adult and I can accept the Lordships instead. We all know he has something planned for me, we just don't know what."
Theo crossed his arms. "Then we need to make sure you have everything in place before you make a move. If we do this, we do it right."
Harry nodded. "That's the plan. And I need all of you with me, if you're up for it."
Blaise smirked. "I was in the moment you said Draco would cry."
Neville's grin was fierce. "I'm with you."
Theo nodded, his blue eyes serious. "Let's bring down a manipulative old man."
~
Over the next few days, Harry and his friends kept in constant contact through their enchanted journals, meticulously compiling everything Dumbledore had done. Every theft, every manipulated move, every stolen book and misappropriated Galleon, the letter about the Chambers location, everything. The money trail they had traced so far was extensive.
As they gathered more information, Harry turned his attention to researching emancipation. The majority of options required petitioning the Wizengamot, but with Dumbledore as Chief Warlock, that was impossible. The only other way was to have two Ministry officials declare him an adult, even just verbally. But how in Merlin's name was he supposed to get that to happen?
Frustrated, he flicked open his private journal with Luna and wrote. How have you been?
I'll be back on the 19th! We should go shopping together in Diagon Alley. The Wrackspurts are particularly excited—they say Stubby Boardman might be there. He's famous, you know.
Harry chuckled at her usual cryptic way of speaking.
Looking forward to it. We can get all our supplies, and maybe even check out a few new shops I found.
~
Harry was sipping his tea in the Leaky Cauldron when the door swung open, and a familiar voice called out his name. He turned just in time to catch Luna as she launched herself into his arms. Laughing, he lifted her into a twirl, her weight light as air.
"You're back!" he said, grinning as he set her down.
Luna beamed up at him. "Of course. I told you I would be. The wrackspurts were insistent I'd find you here."
They wandered down the cobbled streets as Luna regaled him with stories of her adventures with her father. Harry was relieved—this time, Xeno seemed to have actually been present for her, and Luna glowed with happiness.
After some time, she suddenly stopped and turned to him with a serious expression. "You need a haircut. And new clothes."
Harry raised a brow, crossing his arms. "Oh? And what about you?"
Luna twirled a strand of her pale hair thoughtfully. "I suppose it's only fair if we both get a change."
They ducked into a boutique filled with elegant wizarding attire. As they browsed, Harry told her about the negotiations with the goblins over the Basilisk.
Luna listened attentively, then handed him a bundle of clothes. "The nargles showed me you wearing these. Try it on please."
Harry looked down at the pieces sceptically. The main feature was a deep emerald tunic with flowy, layered sleeves, accompanied by an ornate black corset embroidered in gold filigree, with some kind of black leather pants.
"Luna... this is a corset," he pointed out dryly.
She nodded. "Yes, you'll look very handsome in it."
With a sigh and some hesitation, he changed in the fitting room, stepping out and looking to Luna for a verdict.
She clapped her hands together. "Oh, you look magnificent, Harry."
Turning to the mirror, Harry took in the way the embroidery caught the light, emphasising his frame. The outfit was striking—more regal than anything he'd ever worn.
"You like the gold embroidery," Luna observed with a knowing smile. "You should see if they have more."
Harry snorted. "I doubt I'd ever have the chance to wear something like this."
Luna tilted her head. "You never know. It suits you."
Unable to argue, Harry asked the shopkeeper if they had more pieces with the same embroidery. He had a feeling that, even if he never wore them, Luna would be adamant about him keeping them. And truthfully… he didn't mind. His back never felt more supported, he thought amused.
They continued browsing, Luna picking out an array of outfits for herself that reflected her usual eccentric tastes—flowing skirts embroidered with celestial symbols, a deep blue blouse with tiny golden runes stitched along the collar, and a cloak that shimmered like shifting stardust when she moved.
He picked out a deep green wool blazer, a set of crisp shirts, some corduroy trousers and a couple of cosy turtlenecks. A long, charcoal overcoat caught his eye, along with a pair of leather boots.
"This one reminds me of you," she mused, holding up a robe made of dark midnight fabric that rippled with silver threads resembling constellations.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm brooding and dark like the night sky?"
Luna laughed. "Because you're the kind of person who looks up at the stars and wonders if they're looking back."
He blinked, startled by her insight, before shaking his head with a fond smile. "Alright, I'll get it."
Once their selections were made and some charms added on for growing, they stepped outside into the bustling alley. Harry carried their bags while Luna tucked her newly purchased hat—one adorned with a small, jewelled snidget—onto her head.
"So, what now?" she asked.
Harry exhaled, glancing around at the shops. "I think we should get some new books—I've been meaning to look up more about magical familiars, given how things have been with Nox."
Luna nodded sagely.
They wandered into Flourish and Blotts, where Harry found a section on magical creature bonds. As he flipped through one of the texts, Luna wandered off, only to return with a book on divination methods and the history of oracles.
"For research purposes, of course," she said with a smile.
Harry chuckled. "Of course."
After purchasing their books, they made their way to Florean Fortescue's for ice cream. As they sat down, enjoying the quiet of the afternoon, Harry found himself more relaxed than he had been in weeks. Luna had a way of making things feel lighter, even with all the weight on his shoulders.
"I'm glad you're back, Luna," he admitted.
~
The last two weeks at the Leaky Cauldron passed in a blur of quiet planning, training sessions at the cove with Nox, and catching up with Luna. Harry had settled into a comfortable routine, but the ever-present awareness of being watched had not faded.
August 30th arrived, and with it, chaos.
The Leaky Cauldron was invaded by redheads.
Harry had been enjoying a quiet morning in the common area, flipping through one of his new books on familiar bonds, when the unmistakable shriek of Molly Weasley nearly made him spill his tea.
"Oh, Harry dear! What a surprise to see you here!"
Harry barely had time to brace himself before Molly stormed over, arms outstretched, looking far too eager to smother him in a hug. He twisted slightly in his seat, forcing her to miss and awkwardly pat his shoulder instead.
"Mrs. Weasley," he said politely, schooling his expression into neutrality. "I didn't know you were back from Egypt."
"Just arrived this morning!" she declared, beaming. "Arthur and the boys needed to exchange the last of the money, and we decided to stay here until school starts. Isn't that wonderful? You'll have so much company now!"
Harry's fingers curled slightly around his book. Company.
"Oh, and I've already spoken with Tom about arranging for Ron to stay in your room!" she continued cheerfully. "Since you have extra space, there's no need for us to book an additional room."
His grip on his book tightened. He could feel the heat rising in his chest. The audacity of this woman!
"Mrs. Weasley," he said, voice calm but firm, "I'm not sharing my room with Ron."
Molly blinked, as if she hadn't considered that he might refuse.
"Nonsense, dear! You two are such good friends—"
"No, we're not," Harry cut in sharply, his patience snapping. "I made it clear—I don't want anything to do with Ron after what he pulled. I don't understand why you'd think otherwise."
Molly's smile stiffened. "Harry, dear, I'm sure whatever misunderstanding you had—"
"It wasn't a misunderstanding," he said icily. "And I'd appreciate it if you respected that."
She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Tom, who had been watching with a wary expression, stepped in.
"Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Potter has already paid for his accommodations. If he doesn't wish to share, that's his right."
Molly's expression darkened, but she huffed dramatically and turned away, muttering about "ungrateful children" as she stomped off to her family.
Harry exhaled slowly, pushing down the irritation bubbling in his chest. He knew the Weasleys were usually short on money—even more so after just returning from a luxurious trip to Egypt. So why would they waste the last of the money on 2 days in the Leaky Cauldron, when they have a perfectly good home.
Suspicion curled in his stomach.
That night, he wrote to his friends in the shared journal.
Harry: The Weasleys just got back from Egypt, and they've booked FOUR rooms in the Leaky Cauldron until the 1st. That's a lot of money for a family that constantly claims they're struggling. Mrs. Weasley emphasised that I would have plenty of company.
Theo: Dumbledore. The Weasley's have always been fanatics.
Blaise: Has to be. You already suspect they've been getting your money—what if this is part of it?
Neville: It's too convenient. They suddenly win money for a trip AND want to shove Ron into your space? Sounds like they're trying to get close to you again.
Harry's stomach twisted.
Luna: Wrackspurts cloud the mind when deception is involved. They are particularly thick around those who lie to themselves the most.
Harry stared at the words for a long time before closing the journal.
~
The 1st of September arrived, and the day started out with a cryptic warning from Mr Weasley about Sirius Black.
Having everything packed and ready, he made his way to the Floo Network inside the Leaky Cauldron. As he reached for the Floo powder, he heard the shrill voice of Molly Weasley behind him.
"Harry, dear! We're taking a Ministry car to the station! You can ride with Ron and Ginny—"
Harry barely repressed a groan. He could think of nothing worse.
"That's alright, Mrs. Weasley," he said with forced politeness. "I've already made arrangements. Wouldn't want to be a burden."
Before she could protest, he threw the powder down, stepping into the emerald flames and calling out, "Platform 9 ¾!"
As he disappeared, he felt a distinct sense of triumph. He had avoided another Weasley ambush—and any last-minute attempts from Dumbledore's spies.