Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Chapter 17: Day of Death

---

One morning, midway through November, I'm sitting in the Great Hall eating breakfast. Everything seems pretty normal and quiet. Well, aside from Ron being unable to shut up about Quidditch as usual, but that's about as normal as can be, and as usual, I just ignore him.

A first-year girl runs into the Great Hall, shrieking. I don't recognize her. Perhaps she's in Hufflepuff? "He's dead!" she shrieks, running up to the staff table. "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!"

So much for the teachers' discretion. Everyone in the Great Hall must have heard that. Ripples of alarmed murmurs roll through the crowd, quickly turning to panic. Who is dead? And why? What's going on?

Professor McGonagall stands up and says in an amplified voice, "Prefects, please lead your students back to their common rooms. You will be notified when we have discovered anything. Do not panic."

"Come on, everyone, this way," Percy says, trying to herd us back upstairs, although from the look on his face, he seems just about as scared as the rest of us. "Stay calm. Don't run or push."

I come along with the crowd. Along the way, Lavender stumbles on a staircase and almost gets trampled by the other students. I put my arm around her and help her up before she gets stepped on.

"Thanks," Lavender mutters barely audibly. I don't think she even realized who helped her.

We make it back to the common room without any serious trouble along the way. By this point, the entire house is on edge. My own heart is racing, too. Is someone really dead? Is anyone else in danger at this point? Is Slytherin's snake roaming the halls right this minute and killing every Muggleborn it comes across? Is Slytherin's heir assassinating them? But I can't speak these fears aloud. They wouldn't help calm anyone down, anyway.

"Harry, do you know what's going on?" Ron asks.

"How should I know?" I reply.

"Well, maybe it's connected to whatever it was that happened on Halloween," Ron suggests.

"I couldn't tell you about that, either," I say, sighing.

"But you do know something," Neville adds.

"Look, there's no sense in getting worked up about it," I say. "Let's just wait and see what the teachers find out. Whatever might be going on out there, we should be safe in here, right?"

"Alright, fine, I see your point," Ron says. "Let's distract ourselves with some Exploding Snap, then."

For once, I agree to play the stupid game. I can't concentrate on anything else at the moment, anyway. It's taking all of my skill with Occlumency just to stay calm and avoid letting anything slip.

Minutes crawl by. We're missing first period classes, but nobody really cares at the moment. Eventually, Professor McGongall enters the common room and approaches me. "Mr. Potter, I must speak with you in my office immediately."

"Yes, Professor," I say, glancing apologetically at the others and heading off with her.

We arrive in her office. "Sit down, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says. "Just for the record, where were you this morning?"

"In the Great Hall, eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table," I reply. "And before that, in my dorm and in the Gryffindor common room."

"So you weren't at any point alone," McGonagall says. "You were surrounded by your classmates at all times. Good. I don't expect that you had anything to do with it, but one must be certain everything is covered."

"Mr. Filch isn't still accusing me, is he?" I wonder.

"Not loudly, at least," McGonagall says.

I nod. "So can you tell me what happened?" I ask quietly.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley is dead," McGonagall says. "Not a mark on his body. Very likely from the Killing Curse. We've locked down the school. Whoever the murderer is won't get away from us easily."

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," I repeat. "He's in Hufflepuff, isn't he? Or was, at any rate. Was he a Muggleborn?"

"Indeed," McGongall says, looking at me intently. "I normally would be opposed to burdening someone as young as you with these matters, but the Headmaster has insisted that we are not to keep secrets from you. Although I don't know what he's thinking if he believes that a twelve year old boy will be able to stop the Heir of Slytherin."

"I do have special circumstances, you know," I reply.

"I don't see how surviving a Killing Curse when you were a year old qualifies you for battling Dark wizards at your age," McGonagall says. "But I will trust the word of the Headmaster."

"Do you have any idea who the Heir of Slytherin might be?" I ask.

"So far as we know, none of the students currently attending Hogwarts are descended from Salazar Slytherin," McGonagall replies.

"What if they were the descendant of a Squib who was cast off long ago?" I ask.

McGonagall thinks about that for a moment. "That's entirely possible, I suppose. I hadn't considered that. I can't imagine that Slytherin would be particularly happy about his true heir being of that sort of bloodline, though, but blood itself knows no politics. And if this hypothetical Squib was never formally disowned for whatever reason... I'll need to do some more research, if we can't catch anyone today."

"Who was the girl who found Justin's body?" I ask.

"That was Jennifer Stillman," McGonagall replies. "First year Hufflepuff, also a Muggleborn."

"Were any of the upper-year Slytherins unaccounted for at the time of the murder?" I ask.

"They were the first ones we questioned," McGonagall says. "But they all have airtight alibis. Of course, they would support one another, so they may all merely be accomplices..."

"And none of them were anywhere near Justin's body in the time leading up to the murder?" I ask.

McGonagall shakes her head. "Not that anyone saw."

Then it dawns on me with a cold dread that there is a Slytherin who is capable of moving around unseen. "Professor," I say, swallowing a lump in my throat. "I need to speak with Professor Snape. Immediately."

"Very well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says, raising an eyebrow at me, but not asking for further elaboration.

We head over to Snape's office. McGonagall knocks on the door, and the two of us head inside. "Ah, Potter," Snape says. "I was hoping to speak with you." He looks to McGonagall. "Leave us, now, Minerva. I must speak privately with the boy."

"I don't see what you can tell him that you can't tell me," McGonagall says, looking a little offended.

Snape looks at her impatiently. "These are very delicate matters, and the fewer people who know the details, the better."

"Fine, but I will speak with the Headmaster about this," McGonagall says, storming out of the room.

Snape sighs and closes the door behind her, pulls out his wand and mutters, "Colloportus. Muffliato." He looks seriously at me and says, "Have you found out anything, Stormseeker?"

I shake my head. "Professor, precisely at what time did Justin die?" I ask.

"We estimate that he must have died at around half past seven o'clock," Snape says.

"Good," I say. "I was awake at that time. I might still be able to save him... And you can't argue with me that going back to try to save someone isn't a good reason."

"I wasn't about to suggest such," Snape says dryly.

"But I need to find out anything I can first," I say. "Professor, did you question Draco with Legilimency about the invisibility cloak?"

"I have not," Snape says, his face darkening. "But you are right, we should certainly do so. Do you suspect that he might have murdered Mr. Finch-Fletchley?"

"I don't know," I say. "But even if he didn't, he might have lost or loaned the cloak to another Slytherin."

"I shall return momentarily," Snape says. He leaves the room. Shortly afterward, he comes back with Draco Malfoy in tow.

"What is he doing here?" Draco demands, glaring at me.

"Mr. Potter is a part of this investigation," Snape says. "And is it vitally important, for your own sake if nothing else, that you answer truthfully about this. Where is the invisibility cloak?"

"I'm not giving it back, if that's what you mean," Draco retorts.

"I don't care about that," I say. "We just need to make sure that someone hasn't used it to murder anyone!"

Draco's face pales. "Look, I didn't do it, alright?"

Snape gives a faint nod. His Legilimency must have verified the truth in that. "I believe you, Mr. Malfoy. But where is the cloak?"

"It's in my trunk," Draco says.

"You didn't loan it out to anyone?" I say. "And it wasn't stolen?"

"No," Draco insists. "I don't think anyone else even knows I have it!"

"Let us go check your trunk, then, just in case," Snape says. "Remain here, Potter."

The two of them leave again. I wait patiently for several minutes, thinking on what I've learned, and coming to the conclusion that I don't know nearly enough. Everything just raises more questions. After a while, Snape returns to the office, alone.

"The cloak was still safely tucked away in his trunk," Snape says. "It did not appear to have been tampered with."

I sigh softly. "Alright, that's one angle that's cleared up. Can you show me to the scene of the crime?"

"Very well," Snape says. "You might not be much of a fighter or investigator yourself, but failing all else, we can give you the information needed to send back to this morning in order to prevent this."

We leave the office, and Snape takes me to the stretch of corridor where the body was found. No sign of a fight or anything. Nothing that would indicate anything had even happened here if Snape didn't point out exactly the spot where the corpse had been. I look around, hoping that there might be portraits nearby who might have seen something, but no such luck.

"Why here?" I wonder.

"No witnesses?" Snape suggests. "It's a fairly out-of-the-way place, no paintings around."

"Perfect for sneaking up and snapping off a Killing Curse, and then gone before anyone even realizes you were there," I say with a sigh. "Professor, you've spent more time around the Slytherins than most. Do you know any of them that might have expressed a particular hatred toward Muggleborns?"

Snape looks at me like I've said something stupid. "They're Slytherins."

"Right, never mind," I say. I frown a little at the empty spot on the floor. "Why didn't the killer dispose of the body?" I ask suddenly.

"Perhaps they left it as a warning?" Snape suggests. "A demonstration of what happens to those who oppose the Heir?"

I shake my head. "He was just laying here. If Jennifer hadn't come along, it could have been hours before anyone even realized he was missing, never mind dead."

"Maybe they heard someone coming and had to leave quickly, so that they weren't discovered," Snape says.

I nod. "Better reason for just leaving him where he lay." I frown some more, trying to think. I feel like I'm missing something. Something important. Some vital piece of this puzzle. But I don't know what it is or how it might fit.

I'm very confused. I bring to mind Luna's advice. I must try to think clearly. Question my assumptions. But this isn't helping.

"This is getting us nowhere," I say. "Let's go back."

We return to Snape's office. I'm a little frustrated. I may not have much chance at this. If last year's debacle with the Philosopher's Stone is any indication, I only have about seven attempts before I become useless to do anything. I'm pacing around the room, thinking, when there's a knock on the door. Dumbledore is here.

"Stormseeker, have you learned anything?" Dumbledore asks.

"No," I say. "I'm drawing a blank. Do you have any information that I can take back? Have you found out who the killer is yet?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore says. "I feared that Lord Voldemort was in the castle again..."

"Did he open the Chamber of Secrets previously?" I ask.

"There was no evidence to link him to it, but I cannot believe that it was anyone else," Dumbledore says. "A student was murdered at that time, as well, but he managed to pin the crime on Rubeus Hagrid instead."

I stare at him incredulously. "Why would anyone believe that Hagrid was the Heir of Slytherin? Salazar must have been rolling in his grave!"

"It seems a foolish notion, perhaps," Dumbledore says. "An obvious scapegoat, but a scapegoat was needed, to divert attention from the truth."

"And the real murderer got away scot-free," I say with a sigh. "Who was killed?"

"A Muggleborn student by the name of Myrtle," Dumbledore says. "She currently haunts the first-floor girls' lavatory as a ghost."

I stare at him. "What is with that bathroom, anyway?" I wonder. "It seems like an awfully popular place for evil misdeeds for some reason. And didn't anyone think to question the ghost on who killed her?"

"She's never been particularly responsive," Dumbledore says. "She refuses to talk to most people, and she's especially touchy on the subject of her death."

I rub my temples. Adults are so bloody useless sometimes. "Fine, I'll talk to her, then."

I head for the door. Dumbledore stops me, and says, "We should go with you. It could be dangerous wandering around without an adult."

I glare at him. "If I don't die today, I'm going to have to kill myself in hopes of saving Justin. So what does it really matter? I just hope to find out something useful!"

"Lexen, I don't know that seeking out death intentionally is appropriate," Dumbledore says.

"Headmaster," I say firmly, carefully keeping myself calm. "A boy has died today. It may be within my power to save this innocent life. If I can do that, but I choose not to, what kind of a person does that make me?"

"Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good," Dumbledore says.

"Don't you even give me that bullshit," I say, starting to lose my calm. "You don't know what's going to happen in the future. Who are you to say which deaths were 'necessary' and which might still have been saved? Who are you to judge who lives and dies?"

"Stormseeker," Snape says in a warning tone. "Remember your lessons."

"I am in control, Professor," I say icily. "If I weren't, I would have attacked the Headmaster by now in a rage at the things he's saying."

"Ah," Snape says dryly. "I see. In that case, I commend your improvement. Electrocuting the Headmaster would be bad."

"I am simply trying to make sure you understand that you can't always save everyone," Dumbledore says.

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" I say. "Or have you already forgotten about Hermione?"

"If you're going out of your way to try to save Justin out of guilt about being unable to save Hermione--"

"It doesn't matter," I snap. "I would try to save him regardless. Look, I'm going to go talk to Myrtle. Please don't try to stop me. And please don't try to stop me from doing what I believe is right. If I can't use my power to save even a single life, then what's the fucking point?"

They don't hinder me further as I leave the office. I head upstairs to Moaning Myrtle's restroom. The place is still blocked off with spells, but I know the secret they're protecting already, so they don't keep me out. The ominous writing on the wall is still there. There's a very clean patch of wall around it, and signs of pitting and scoring, indicating that they seem to have tried everything to get rid of the message short of removing the wall itself.

I step into the restroom. "Myrtle, are you in here?" I call out.

The floor is drenched as usual. Flooded and overflowing. Myrtle comes out of the toilet to hover before me. "Oh, it's you. The boy that likes to hang around the girls' loo, puking."

"Harry," I say. "My name is Harry. How are you doing, Myrtle?"

"Miserable, as always," Myrtle says, sighing dramatically. "Not that you actually care about my feelings, or anything."

"Why shouldn't I?" I say. "I came to see you, didn't I? It must get awfully lonely in this restroom."

"Oh, yes, it does," Myrtle says. "Not many girls even come in here if they can help it. And they make fun of me!"

"I'm sorry," I say. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nothing!" Myrtle exclaims. "No help for poor Myrtle!"

"Myrtle," I say gently. "Maybe you can tell me about how you died? Maybe it would help to get that out..."

"It was horrible!" Myrtle says. "I don't want to think about it! How's a living boy to understand what it's like to die?"

I suppress a smirk at that. "I might understand better than you'd think."

"Oh, fine, I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Myrtle says. "Olive Hornby made fun of me, and I came in here to cry. But oh did she regret it! I haunted her for the rest of her days in revenge!"

I frown a little. "But how did you actually die?"

"I don't know!" Myrtle says. "Just suddenly, I was dead, floating away from my body. They didn't even realize it for hours!"

"Is that all? No spells or anything?" I wonder.

"Not that I heard," Myrtle says. "I do remember one thing... I was looking out, right there," she says, pointing at the sink. "And I saw two great big yellow eyes. And then I was dead."

"I see," I say, staring at the spot myself. "That's all? You just looked, and that was it?"

"That's all I saw, that's all I remember," Myrtle says. "Now leave me alone! I'm going to go back into the drain and cry just having to think about it again!"

"Thanks, Myrtle," I say. "And I'm sorry for disturbing you."

I return to Snape's office. Dumbledore is still there, talking to him. "Did you learn anything, Stormseeker?" Snape asks me.

"Are there any large, magical snakes that can kill you by looking into their eyes?" I ask.

"A basilisk?" Snape says.

"Myrtle was killed by a basilisk?" Dumbledore says.

"The last thing she remembers is looking into two huge yellow eyes," I say. "And I figured Slytherin's monster would most likely have been some sort of snake..."

"So it wasn't the Killing Curse at all, but a basilisk's gaze," Snape says. "They are quite rare, but that would also certainly kill without leaving a mark."

"This is grave news indeed," Dumbledore says. "The Heir may not have even been present when Mr. Finch-Fletchley was killed."

"So, can I go back now?" I ask.

"You're quite eager to die, Stormseeker," Snape observes dryly.

"Just give me some poison or something," I say. "Before I lose my nerve." I may not be too thrilled at the thought of dying at all, never mind intentionally, but for the sake of saving a life, I'll do it.

Snape exchanges a look with Dumbledore, who just looks back helplessly. "Very well, Stormseeker," Snape says, looking through his shelf and pulling out a bottle. "I was in my office from seven till eight o'clock this morning. Good luck."

"Don't say things like that," I say, grimacing. "Luck is never on my side."

I take the bottle from him and down it as quickly as I can. It does its work swiftly, and I feel my body go numb, and I collapse.

---

I wake. What time is it? 7:12. I don't have much time. Not even bothering to get dressed, I race out of the Gryffindor dorms and make my way down to the dungeons. Snape's office is unlocked, and I let myself inside. Snape looks up from his desk in alarm, perhaps not the least of which at my dragon pajamas.

"No time," I say frantically. "Come quickly!"

Snape follows after me, and I lead him toward the spot where Justin is about to die. "Explain on the way."

"Basilisk," I say tersely. "Going to kill someone. Hope we're not too late..."

An enormous snake, ahead of us in the corridor. Dark green scales, and it must be fifty feet long. I quickly fix my gaze upon the floor to make sure I don't look into its eyes. There, I see Justin's body, already laying on the ground.

"Too late..." I say. "We're too late!"

"Sectumsempra!" Snape cries, firing off a spell at the monstrous serpent.

The snake rears around. I watch Snape, casting spell after spell at the basilisk. And then, Snape suddenly goes stiff. Stops moving. Falls to the ground.

"SNAPE!" I scream.

I stare at Snape's body as though petrified myself. Then the basilisk's fangs sink into me. I wasn't looking at it, so it has to kill me in another way. Burning venom, coursing through my veins. I sink to my knees next to Snape's lifeless form and wait to die.

---

I wake, panting, heart racing. No time. No time to get help. 7:13. If I'm to save Justin, I'm going to have to do it myself.

I leap out of bed and race out of the Gryffindor Tower. Down several flights of stairs, down to the corridor where Justin was attacked, will be attacked. I stumble, and almost get lost. This is no time to be getting lost! I'm on a tight schedule here.

I arrive at the right spot, panting. No one's here yet. I got here in time. Where's Justin? Where's the basilisk?

There, a boy is approaching. Justin. "Harry Potter? What are you--"

"Run!" I say frantically. "Run for your life!"

"What are you talking about?" Justin says in puzzlement. I suddenly realize what this must look like. I'm standing here in the middle of nowhere in my dragon pajamas, screaming weird things at him.

I hear a faint sound. Hissing, slithering, scales moving against stone. My blood runs cold. "Damn it, Justin, run," I say. I grab his arm and try to haul him away from the direction the sound is coming from.

"Let go of me!" Justin says, struggling and stumbling. "What's wrong with you? Have you gone completely mad?"

"Run, and don't look back!" I say. "There's a monster behind us that will kill you if you look into its eyes!"

"What?" Justin says. "Oh, come on, this is rubbish." He turns to look back, and suddenly goes stiff in my hands.

I stumble at the sudden dead weight. I stare at the corpse. "Bloody hell," I say. "Damn it, Justin, I told you not to look!" I'm shaking. I don't even care that the basilisk is bearing down on me. "I told you not to look..."

The basilisk is upon me. I feel its fangs, its agonizing venom... I'm too slow, I'm too slow, and it's too far. How can I be faster? I'd practically need... to be able to... teleport...

---

I wake. Damn everything. I need to intercept Justin before he gets to that corridor of doom. I race out of the dorm again and down the stairs. I'm running purely on adrenaline now, and I don't have a minute to waste.

Where was Justin before he got to that hallway? Probably his common room. And he was probably going to the Great Hall for breakfast. Where's the Hufflepuff common room? I have no idea. No, he probably wasn't there, or it'd be a more heavily trafficked area. Doesn't matter, anyway. Assuming he was going to the Great Hall, I head to the corridor that he would have been heading down, the direction that I saw him approaching from last time.

Alright, here's a good spot. I can hopefully intercept him here, and we'll be safe from the basilisk. Sure enough, there he is. Ah, it looks like he was out back in the greenhouses, maybe.

"Harry Potter?" Justin says, looking at me strangely. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Justin," I say. "Were you out in the greenhouses?" I keep myself as calm and neutral as possible. Nonchalant, perfectly at ease, perfectly normal.

"Yeah," Justin says. "Professor Sprout wanted me to check on something. What are you doing out here in your pajamas?"

"Huh?" I say, feigning innocence and glancing down at myself. "Oh dear! I seem to have forgotten to get dressed before leaving my dormitory. How embarrassing!"

"Heh," Justin says. "That's quite alright, my sister does that all the time. I'd best get to breakfast, now. I'm starved."

He starts heading toward that fateful corridor. No, no, no. I must delay him longer! Just a few minutes more! I block his path.

"Harry, what are you--" Justin says, then suddenly stares at something behind me. "What in blazes is that--" He then falls backwards, stiff as a board, dead.

Fuck. Either I picked a spot that was still too close to the basilisk, or it hunted him down regardless. The basilisk sinks its teeth into me again, and I fall to the ground beside Justin's body as the venom works its way through my body again.

---

I wake. Force myself out of bed. So very tired. I just want to keep sleeping. Too slow. How will I ever get there in this state? I was already too slow to begin with, and with repeated deaths I'm only getting slower. I'd practically need to teleport, but nobody can teleport in Hogwarts--

... except house-elves. "Dobby!" I call.

The little elf pops into existence before me. "What does Great Master Harry need?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley is in the greenhouses," I say. "Can you take me to him?"

"Dobby can't take wizards with him when he pops around," Dobby replies sadly. "Dobby is so sorry--"

"No," I say, cutting him off. "Just go there yourself. I don't care what you have to do, but keep him out of the castle for at least half an hour! Hurry!"

Dobby vanishes again. Hopefully, this will be fast enough. I dig out one of Snape's Wideye potions and guzzle it down for whatever good it might do, although most of my exhaustion is magical in nature. I get dressed, and head downstairs, and make my way to Snape's office. I stumble inside without even bothering to knock.

Snape glances up, and casts a quick "Muffliato," and asks, "Stormseeker, is there a problem?"

"I'm afraid I'm running a little thin at the moment here, Professor," I say wearily. "But if what I've tried this time doesn't help, we won't be able to get there fast enough anyway." I slump down in a chair to save my energy.

"Explain," Snape says.

"The creature in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk," I say. "That's what killed Moaning Myrtle. That's what wants to kill Justin Finch-Fletchley this morning. But I couldn't get there fast enough, so I sent my house-elf to distract Justin long enough for the danger to pass, since he can teleport inside of the school grounds."

Snape looks vaguely impressed. "A wise move," he says.

I snort softly. "Yeah, too bad it only took me four deaths to think of it," I say. "I did try getting you at first, but we were too late. There just wasn't time..."

"I understand," Snape says. "Hopefully your house-elf has been successful." He pulls out his wand and says, "Expecto Patronum." A translucent doe made of silvery light springs into existence before him and looks to him expectantly. "Tell Dumbledore to come to my office immediately." The doe nods and leaps straight through the wall.

I stare at that display. "You have got to teach me that spell," I say.

Dumbledore steps out of the fireplace. "Stormseeker?" he says. "Has something happened?"

I quickly recap to him what I told Snape. "And I told Dobby to keep him out of the castle for at least half an hour, just in case. That should be long enough."

"A basilisk loose in the castle," Dumbledore says gravely. "You've done as well as you could, under the circumstances, my boy."

Dobby pops into the room, grinning broadly. Ah, it has been half an hour already. "Dobby has done what Great Master Harry wanted. Dobby kept the Finchy out of the castle for half an hour."

I impulsively hug the house-elf. "Thanks, Dobby," I say. "You've done well. Real well."

Dobby starts weeping. "Master Harry is so good to Dobby."

I smile at him. "Why don't you go home now? Do whatever you like for the rest of the day."

Dobby brightens. "Dobby will go clean Ron Wheezey's room!" He vanishes.

I have to laugh aloud at that. Ron will be positively traumatized at how much less messy his room is likely to become. But Dobby's earned it.

"Mr. Finch-Fletchley is likely to be in the Great Hall soon if he isn't there already," Dumbledore says. "Why don't we head off to breakfast ourselves and make sure that he's safe?"

"Stormseeker, are you capable of making it through today's classes?" Snape asks.

I nod. "I'm a bit tired, but so long as it doesn't involve anything too strenuous, I should be fine."

The three of us head on up to the Great Hall. Sure enough, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, is Justin Finch-Fletchley, alive and well.

Justin is saying, "And then this weird, filthy little man-like thing with big, floppy ears showed up and started wrecking havoc! It stole my bag and hid my books, and I had to chase it all over the place."

I have to smile a little to myself. He might be annoyed as hell at Dobby right now. But he doesn't need to know just how close he came to dying today.