Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

I dread the approach of Halloween. What horrible thing will happen this year, I wonder? While much of the castle is gearing up to celebrate and enjoy the treats at the Halloween feast, I haven't forgotten what happened last year, when one bright soul was taken from us before her time.

"Hey, Harry," Ron says. "Nearly Headless Nick invited Luna Lovegood to his deathday party. Luna asked Ginny to come, but Ginny didn't really want to go, so she asked me, and I don't really want to go, so I'm asking you."

I smirk and roll my eyes a little. "Fine, I'll accompany Luna to this deathday party. But I think I'll just tell her that myself, rather than telling you to tell Ginny to tell her."

That sounds like a more appropriate sort of celebration for a murderer like me. I'm slowly coming to terms with that. Both Draco and I are hiding our emotions well of late. But I don't need to insult people as a defense mechanism.

I catch Luna at lunch. "Hey, Luna," I say. "I'll go with you to that deathday party, if you don't mind."

"Oh, will you, Stormseeker?" Luna says, looking at me as though she's staring right through me, as usual. "I'm glad. No one else wants to come. A terrible infestation of wrackspurts. It's not nice to neglect the dead."

"So, erm... what exactly is a deathday party, anyway?" I wonder.

"It marks the day someone died," Luna says. "Nicholas died on All Hallows' Eve five hundred years ago."

"Well, that seems appropriate then, I suppose," I say.

I don't know about a party, but Hermione as well as James and Lily Potter died on Halloween. After that, all the candy and pumpkins just feels wrong somehow.

So, when Halloween comes, I hook up with Luna and slip away from the Great Hall. "How can they be so happy when there's so much death around them?" I murmur to Luna on the way to the dungeons.

Luna looks at me strangely. No, wait, she always looks at me strangely. "There is always death, Stormseeker, and more of it than any one person can see. But death is a part of life, and we cannot dwell on what has been lost to us. We must eventually move on, apart from those who have moved on from us. And we may yet see them again in the end."

I think on what she's saying for a few moments. "You're right, of course," I say. And besides, I'm a time traveler, why do I let these things get to me so much? Well, of course, a part of it is that I don't know how to go back more than one day yet... and I think, in part, I'm grieving in proxy for my family left behind at home, left to their fate.

We arrive at the dungeon room that has been arranged in grave decorations from Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party. I've never seen so many ghosts in one place before, and it's enough to make me shiver involuntarily. Rotting, moldy food has been arranged on tables, giving the place a heavy smell.

"Ah, Miss Lovegood!" Nick says, drifting over toward us. "And young Mr. Potter! I'm glad you could make it. Welcome!"

"Hello," I say, feeling a little awkward.

"I'm surprised that any of the students came at all," Nick says. "I would have expected that you'd much rather be at the school feast, instead, with the living."

"Ugh," I say. "I'm sorry, but the thought of eating anything right now makes me feel ill, and it's not just because I'm standing next to a rotting fish."

"Oh?" Nick says.

"This is also the first anniversary of Hermione Granger's death," I explain quietly. "And I miss her, and kind of wish she were here today, as selfish as that thought might be. My parents died on this day, too, but I never really knew them. Why do some people turn into ghosts when they die, but not others?"

"Ah, I see," Nick says. "As to your question, well... Not everyone can become a ghost. Few wizards choose that route."

"So you all became ghosts by choice?" I wonder.

"Indeed," Nick says. "It's a feeble imitation of life, a shadow of what we once were, but it was, indeed, our choice. We feared death too much to move on, and so we remain in this world, treading the paths where we once trod in life."

"I see," I say. "Well, I can understand that. I don't exactly have any desire to see death, myself." Not that I'm likely to become a ghost, myself. I have my own method of avoiding death. "So, does that mean Hermione wasn't afraid of death?"

"Not precisely," Nick says. "Many fear death, but when their time comes, they are yet willing to let go. We ghosts are those who refused to let go, and remained anchored in this world instead."

I nod to him, and glance around the room and see one ghost that I know is at the castle, but isn't in attendance today. "Moaning Myrtle isn't here?"

"I'm afraid not," Nick says. "She rarely leaves her toilet. She's probably curled up back in there making the thing flood, as usual. Poor girl really should get out more. It would do her some good."

"Do you mind if I go try to coax her out?" I ask.

"Go ahead if you like, Harry," Nick says. "She's more than welcome, if she's willing to come."

"I'll be back soon, then," I say, turning to head out of the dungeon.

I make my way to the first floor girls' restroom. My feet splash into water, a puddle spreading across the corridor, but my eyes are drawn to words written on the wall.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

I nearly slip and fall in surprise. What in the Abyss is going on? I approach to take a closer look, frowning deeply. Underneath the message, there's a cat, frozen stiff, eyes unblinking. It's Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat. What happened here?

I charge into the restroom, heart racing. "Myrtle!" I call. "Myrtle, are you here?"

"Oh, at last, someone notices poor Myrtle," a voice replies from the depths of a toilet bowl. "Someone finally remembers poor Myrtle." She pulls herself out of the drain and floats up in front of me.

"Myrtle," I say. "Did you-- did you see what happened? Did you see anything?"

"That's all you're really interested in, isn't it?" Myrtle says, wailing in despair. "You don't care about poor Myrtle! You only care if I might know something you want to know!"

"That's not true, Myrtle," I insist. "I was coming to try to convince you to come to Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party. He thinks you spend too much time in this toilet and that it would do you some good to come out more. And the party would be fun, wouldn't it?"

Myrtle looks only slightly mollified at my assurance. "Well, I didn't see anything, anyway. I was sitting in the bend of the drain, thinking about how miserable I was, and how much fun everyone else must be having without me about now."

I sigh softly. "Nothing at all? Well, alright, then. I'm sure Nick would really appreciate your presence at his deathday party."

"Oh, alright, I suppose I'll go," Myrtle says.

"Could you tell Nick and Luna that I won't be back to the party?" I say. "Something's come up and I'm going to need to fetch a teacher..."

"I'll tell them," Myrtle says.

While Myrtle heads off to the dungeons, I quickly make my way to the Great Hall. Most of the teachers are seated at the staff table at the head of the room, and I approach Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," I say frantically. "Something has happened."

"What is it, my boy?" Dumbledore asks.

"The-- the Chamber of Secrets," I stammer. "The first floor girls' restroom..."

Dumbledore's face immediately turns very concerned. "Show me what you've seen," Dumbledore says. "Severus, Minerva, if you will accompany us?"

"Someone should fetch Mr. Filch as well," I add. "His cat..."

Dumbledore nods, and says to Professor Sprout, "Pomona, if you would?"

Professor Sprout nods and heads off toward Filch's office. I lead Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall back to the first floor girls' restroom and show them the message on the wall outside. Nothing has been disturbed, and it doesn't look as though anyone else has been here in the moments it took me to get to the Great Hall and back.

"Minerva, would you seal off this corridor and detour students around this area?" Dumbledore says, going over to examine the cat.

"Of course, Headmaster," McGonagall says, heading off to the stretch of corridor between here and the Great Hall in order to make sure students would be redirected away from this section.

Snape says, "How did you discover this, Potter? Why weren't you at the feast?"

"I was at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party," I reply. "I noticed that Moaning Myrtle wasn't there, so I came here to try to convince her to come."

"You prefer to spend time among the living than the dead, Potter?" Snape says.

"I didn't really feel like being there today," I say quietly.

"My cat!" exclains Filch, approaching with Professor Sprout. "Oh, my poor little poopsy." He turns to glare at me. "Is this the culprit, then?"

"No, Argus," Dumbledore replies. "Harry came straight to me to inform me of what has happened here."

"A likely excuse!" Filch argues. "He could have committed the crime himself and have been trying to make himself look innocent by reporting it."

"Why would I want to kill your cat?" I say incredulously.

"Potter knows! He knows!" Filch retorts. "He knows I'm a Squib!"

I blink at him in puzzlement. "So?"

"Salazar Slytherin hated all Muggleborns and Squibs!" Filch says. "He would wish death upon the likes of me!"

"Um... pardon me for asking, but is this supposed to have something to do with me?" I wonder.

Snape explains, "According to legend, Salazar Slytherin left behind the Chamber of Secrets, hidden somewhere within Hogwarts. But to this day, we are yet uncertain as to its location."

"And Potter is the Heir of Slytherin, of course!" Filch says. "And he killed my cat!"

"Your cat isn't dead," Dumbledore says, cradling the stiff feline in his arms. "She's petrified."

"Mr. Filch," I say patiently, taking a deep breath and remaining quite calm. "If I were really the Heir of Slytherin, and hated you for being a Squib... why would I attack your cat? I would think that Slytherin's heir would have better things to do with whatever secrets that chamber might contain than assaulting passing felines."

"He as much as admits it and is just making excuses now!" Filch says.

I sigh softly. Dumbledore says, "Argus, please calm down. I have full confidence in Harry, and I do not believe that there is any conceivable way that he could be responsible for this. And I am quite certain that he does not have a drop of Slytherin's blood in his veins."

"Fine," Filch says. "We'll do it your way, then. I still think there should be punishment. Obviously the boy must have done something wrong here."

I shake my head faintly and ignore his ranting, and look toward figuring out the root of the problem. "So... what could have petrified Mr. Filch's cat?"

"A powerful Dark curse, most likely," Dumbledore suggests.

"Or perhaps a potion," Snape adds.

I frown faintly. "If either of those were the case, why, would someone bother to attack a cat?"

"I do not know," Dumbledore says. "Rest assured, however, that we will get to the bottom of this mystery. You should run along now back to your common room, dear Harry. Leave this matter to us. And I think it should go without saying that you must not speak of this to any other students."

"Of course, Headmaster," I say. I give a slight bow toward the adults, and make my way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Breakfast the next morning is full of whispers. Although the students know that something happened on Halloween, they have no idea what. The professors have carefully placed spells over the area to prevent anyone from wandering in who doesn't already know about it. If the opening of the Chamber of Secrets was intended to cause a panic, it has failed to do so.

I go up to Luna at the Ravenclaw table and say, "Hey, Luna. Sorry about ditching you yesterday like that."

"That's quite alright, Stormseeker," Luna replies distantly. "Your path is a dark one, swathed in death. So much death, it almost hurts to look at you. But so long as you can fend off the wrackspurts, you'll find the light again."

"Thanks, Luna," I say, nodding sagely at her advice. "But how am I to fend them off if I can't see them myself?"

"Keep your mind sharp and clear," Luna replies, her eyes focusing on me for one fleeting moment. "And if you ever find yourself lost or confused, stop and think, and ask yourself why. That'll keep the wrackspurts away. Asking why, rather than blindly clinging to false assumptions."

That... makes an awful lot of sense, actually. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," I say.

I quietly decide to spend a bit of free time in the library doing a little research of my own. If this Heir of Slytherin is running around, I want to be prepared. I also figure that, whoever the Heir is, is most likely either a first year or seventh year student in Slytherin house. A seventh year is most probable, in my eyes. They'd have more skill and power behind them, and be more willing to burn their bridges behind them in their final year. A first year, on the other hand, might have just realized their heirdom and discovered the Chamber of Secrets, and not be smart enough to lay low about it to give them a chance to study Slytherin's secrets.

But for the moment, I want to find out just what could have petrified Mrs. Norris. I also want to read up on what my copy of Hogwarts, a History has to say about the Chamber of Secrets.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Ron whispers to me.

"Reading," I reply quietly. I'm a little annoyed, but I force myself to remain calm. I don't want to snap at Ron, even if I don't like him interrupting my concentration, and can't tell him what I'm really up to anyway.

"Bah, you read too much," Ron says. "You should come back to the common room and play chess with me."

"Sorry," I say. "I've got a lot of homework to do that I've been putting off." Which is true. And I'm putting it off even longer to do this research.

"Fine, fine," Ron says, leaving the library before Madam Pince does more than glare at him.

Unfortunately, my research turns up even less than the hints that Dumbledore and Snape gave. Any sorts of curses or potions that could have caused petrification are clearly considered Dark, and hence little to nothing is mentioned of them, outside of the Restricted Section at any rate. And I have no easy way of sneaking in to try to find them, if I even knew where to begin looking. Perhaps I should set this aside until I can think of a better plan of action, and get started on my actual homework.

"Hello, Stormseeker." I glance up to see the blonde first-year girl standing at my shoulder.

"Ah, hey, Luna," I reply. I glance around the library, and pull out my wand and murmur, "Muffliato." Okay, technically, Snape never intentionally taught me this spell, but I've seen him cast it every time he's spoken to me for the past year.

She takes a seat next to me. "Are you making much progress?" she asks.

"Not really," I reply, without even bothering to ask if she knows what I'm doing. With Luna, it's best to assume that she already knows everything, or if she doesn't, she won't be surprised when she finds out. There's no point in trying to keep anything a secret from her. "I think I'm approaching this from the wrong angle."

I pull out Hogwarts, a History and flip through it to see if it has any information on the Chamber of Secrets. Start with what I know, and go from there. What does it matter what spell or effect might have petrified Filch's cat? It's not like I'd be able to cast it myself anytime soon, even if there's a book detailing Dark curses like that in the Restricted Section somewhere.

Ah, here we go. Let's see. Salazar Slytherin left the school because he hated Muggleborns. And, according to legend, left behind this hidden room with a monster in it, presumably guarding the titular secrets. Only his true heir would be able to open it again and purge the school of those who were unworthy of studying magic.

"I wonder what Slytherin ever had against Muggleborns," Luna says quietly.

"I don't know," I say. "But this doesn't make sense. It says that the other founders knew nothing about the Chamber of Secrets. And if it was really such a secret, why is there even a legend about it in the first place?"

"Perhaps Slytherin started the legend himself in order to scare people," Luna suggests.

"Hmm, this is true," I say. "A warning, perhaps. So, what might be in it, I wonder..." I flip back through the book to information on Salazar Slytherin, and read through it. "Dark wizard, Legilimens, Parselmouth... he could talk to snakes? Well, I suppose that would explain Slytherin's house symbol. In that case, I imagine whatever this monster is, it's probably some sort of large magical snake."

"There aren't any Parselmouths currently attending Hogwarts," Luna says.

"The Dark Lord is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin," I continue, frowning a little. "Do you suppose he's possessing somebody else this year?"

"Not that I've seen," Luna replies.

I ponder a bit more. "Do you suppose one of his descendants isn't a Parselmouth? But then they wouldn't be able to control his snake..."

"I don't know," Luna says. "It's possible, perhaps."

I sigh softly and rub my eyes. "Luna, have you seen anything that might help?"

"Ginny has a serious infestation of wrackspurts this year," Luna says. "Especially when she's around you. Maybe you should spend more time with her and help her to relax a bit."

I blink at Luna for a moment. "I meant with regards to the Chamber of Secrets."

Luna stares off, looking distantly thoughtful. "There's a lot of nargles around Hogwarts, too. But I don't know if that's normal for Hogwarts or not."

"Never mind," I say, inwardly sighing. Luna can be very helpful at times, but getting a straight answer out of her is exhausting. "I really ought to do my homework, I think."