Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

The year 1993 begins, and we all return to Hogwarts for the start of the new term. As I look over the crowd of students getting ready to board the Hogwarts Express, I have to wonder how many of them would ever come back if they had any idea of the danger they face. Especially the Muggleborns. I fight down the urge to warn them, to scream at them to run away and never come back. That wouldn't be fair to them. It's up to me to protect them, if they can't protect themselves.

I'm not about to let my expression slip again, either. I put on a mask of happiness, smiling and cheerful, excited about returning to school. Let them only see what I allow them to see.

"Be sure to write, children!" Molly is saying to us. "Do your best in your classes! And Fred, George, don't you dare do whatever it was you were just thinking of!"

"Aw, Mum," Fred says.

"But you don't even know what we were thinking of!" George says.

"I don't have to!" Molly says. "You had that look on your face like you've thought of some brilliant prank!"

"Brother of mine," Fred says. "Do you reckon Mum has become a Legilimens?"

"I think she just knows us too well," George replies.

I climb aboard the train and look for a place to sit. As before, Luna is seated in a compartment by herself. "Do you mind if we sit here?" I ask her.

"Man, you want to sit with Loony Lovegood again?" Ron says.

"You and your companions are always welcome, Stormseeker," Luna replies dreamily.

"Bah, you sit here if you want," Ron says. "I'm going to go find Neville."

I shrug and take a seat across from Luna. It's just as well, really. I'd rather that Ron not get to the point where he might actually believe a lot of what Luna says about me.

"How was your holiday, Luna?" I ask.

"My father is well," Luna replies. "Thank you for the Cauldron Cakes."

The Weasley twins show up and come into our compartment. "Hey, Harry," Fred says.

"Colloportus," George murmurs at the door.

"Hello Fred, George," I say. "What's up?"

"We have a cunning plan," Fred says.

"But we need a little help from you," George adds.

Fred looks sidelong at Luna, and then raises an eyebrow at me. I don't need to be a Legilimens myself to be able to guess that he's wondering if Luna is trustworthy.

"Don't worry, you can tell Luna anything," I say. "I trust her with my deepest secrets." I give a small grin.

"Really," Fred says.

George clears his throat. "Well then."

"Anyway," Fred says. "We have this idea, but we're going to need your invisibility cloak to pull it off."

My face falls. I look to the floor. "I... I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have it anymore."

"Aw, why not?" Fred asks.

"What happened?" George wonders.

"I screwed up," I say. "Snape found out I had it and confiscated it."

"That's rubbish!" Fred exclaims.

"There's no rule against invisibility cloaks," George says.

"We checked," Fred says.

"Tell that to Snape," I say dryly.

"Point," George says.

"Well, we'll just have to come up with another plan, then," Fred says.

"See you later, Harry," George says. He cancels his spell, and the two of them leave again.

Luna watches them leave, and then turns to me and asks, "Was that what really happened, Stormseeker?"

I shake my head, and pull out my wand. "Muffliato. Colloportus. Alright. The truth was that I made the mistake of trusting Draco Malfoy, and he betrayed me," I reply quietly.

"Ah, I see," Luna says. "Is that why you had his parents killed?"

"Luna!" I snap. I'm glad I put up the Privacy Charm first. "Why do you think that I'm a murderer, or that I'd murder someone over something like that?"

"Because there are black grackles around you," Luna replies smoothly. "They're attracted to murder. And they first appeared after Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy died." She seems to look through me. "They're starting to dissipate now, though. They should be gone completely by the end of the term if you don't kill anyone else by that point."

I open my mouth, stunned. "Wait, what?"

"I wasn't going to say anything, though," Luna says. "I'm sure you had a good reason for it."

I sigh. "It wasn't over something so petty as a mere thing, though. It was for the sake of an elf they'd severely abused."

"Ah, I see," Luna says. "I didn't think you were the sort who would kill for his own sake. That makes sense."

"Well, thank you for your faith in me, then," I say.

When we arrive back at Hogsmeade Station and file out of the train, I hear people murmuring around us. Did something happen, I wonder?

"It's true!" says one older Hufflepuff girl.

"But they're so young!"

"They were locked in their compartment the whole way here!"

"It must be true love!"

What are they talking about?

Percy Weasley approaches us, a stern look on his face. "Harry. Luna," he says. "I must warn you against so obviously displaying your affection at your age."

"Wait, what?" I say, blinking at him.

"You were locked in a compartment alone with her the entire trip," Percy says. "And my brothers said--"

"Wait, Fred and George you mean?" I say.

"Yes--"

"You believed something the twins said?" I say incredulously.

Percy sighs. "The entire school did."

Another Hufflepuff girl giggles and says to her friends, "I think they look cute together."

I bury my face in my palms. "This is going to be a long term."

A week after returning to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall intercepts me in the common room before breakfast. "The Headmaster wishes to see you in his office immediately," she tells me.

I don't even need to ask what this is probably about, and the thought fills me with dread. I keep my face carefully neutral as I follow her off to Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, you're here, good," Dumbledore says. "Minerva, leave us, please."

I wait quietly for Professor McGonagall to leave the office before speaking. "Did someone die, Headmaster?"

"I'm afraid so, Stormseeker," Dumbledore says. "Mr. Filch found the body of young Colin Creevey this morning, without a mark on him. Out of bed when he should not have been, and we still have no idea who might have done this."

I start to feel ill. "About what time did he die at?"

"Perhaps three o'clock in the morning," Dumbledore says.

"Shit," I mutter.

"I would normally admonish you for such language," Dumbledore says. "But under the circumstances, I will let it slide as being understandable."

"I can't save him," I murmur. "I was still asleep... I can't save him."

"I'm sorry, Lexen," Dumbledore says gently. "I had hoped that there might yet be something you could do. But perhaps you can still help us catch whoever murdered this poor boy."

I'm trembling. "I don't know," I say. "Maybe. I'm sorry, Headmaster. I'd like some time alone." I turn for the door. "I'll-- I'll let you know if I find out anything."

I leave the Headmaster's office and wander off. I'm certainly not going to the Great Hall for breakfast right now. I find myself back in Moaning Myrtle's restroom. There's nothing in my stomach to puke up though, which is probably just as well. I go over to the sink and wash my face.

"Oh, the boy is back," Myrtle says, the ghost appearing in the mirror behind me.

"Hello, Myrtle," I say in a choked voice. I almost feel like crying, but no tears come.

"You're not going to start puking again, are you?" Myrtle asks.

"I haven't even eaten breakfast yet," I mutter. "Nothing to puke up."

"Just as well," Myrtle says. "Sometimes I'm glad I'm a ghost. I don't have to deal with disgusting things like that anymore!"

"Myrtle, you hang out in a toilet," I point out. "Voluntarily, even."

"Hmph," Myrtle says.

"Myrtle," I say, sighing a little and staring into the mirror. "I don't suppose you saw anything interesting happen last night?"

"I'm afraid not," Myrtle says. "I was being lonely in the bend of my toilet. Why, did something happen?"

"A boy died last night," I say quietly. "A first year Gryffindor. A Muggleborn. His name was Colin Creevey."

"Oh..." Myrtle says, her expression softening a bit.

It's fortunate that Filch found him rather than a student. We might be able to avoid a panic at this rate. But wouldn't a panic be justified? Shouldn't these poor children be running in terror at this? They are all in danger. And I can't protect them as well as I might have hoped.

"I think he died the same way you did," I add.

"He died suddenly while crying in the loo?" Myrtle asks dubiously.

I shake my head. "No, I mean, the same thing killed him. A basilisk..."

"You think I was killed by a basilisk?" Myrtle says.

"I'm sure of it," I say. "There's a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. That's what Salazar Slytherin's monster is." And seeing as I've already seen it and been killed by it several times, I don't think there's really any question of what it is anymore.

"Oh..." Myrtle repeats dumbly. "Do you suppose this Colin became a ghost, too?"

"I don't know," I say, sighing. "Go find out, if you really want to know. I probably ought to get to breakfast. I doubt I can hold any food down at the moment, but..."

"Why do you get so sick when other people die?" Myrtle says. "It's not like it was happening to you."

"I just feel like I should have been able to do something to stop it," I reply softly.

"Hmph!" Myrtle says. "That's awfully arrogant of you. You think that just because you couldn't do something, that it must have been impossible? You think it's up to you to do everything yourself? You give yourself too much credit, boy."

"You... have a point," I admit.

"Now go eat," Myrtle admonishes me. "And don't you dare come slinking back here to puke it up again, either!"

"Alright," I say, heading out of the restroom.

There's no use moping about it. Poor Colin is already dead and out of my reach. There's nothing I can do for him now, except to try to find the person who murdered him.

Murder. I wonder if Luna might be able to help? Well, he was probably killed by the basilisk, and so wasn't murdered directly. But she was still able to see things around me even though I used Rispy as my murder weapon. It's certainly worth a shot.

I make my way to the Great Hall. Breakfast has already started, and Luna is seated at the Ravenclaw table, starting to eat quietly. There's some space around her, so I head over to take a seat next to her.

An older girl across the table says, "Hey, aren't you in Gryffindor?"

Another girl replies, "Oh, give him a break. He just wants to sit with his girlfriend."

Maybe I should have just waited until after breakfast. No help for it now. I give a bit of a glare at the older girls and say, "Morning, Luna."

"Hello, Stormseeker," Luna says distantly.

"Care to help me hunt grackles today?" I ask.

"Certainly," Luna replies.

"Ooh, they're going on a date!" squees a nearby girl. "How adorable!"

I clench my teeth and determinedly ignore them as I set in to eat some breakfast. Myrtle's words did help to ease my stomach, I think. I'm going to make a wreck of myself if I am to personally blame myself for every bad thing that happens around me.

"Pay them no mind, Stormseeker," Luna says absently. "They're just infested by wrackspurts."

"She even has a weird pet name for him!" says one of the gossiping girls.

I quietly roll my eyes and eat up. Once I'm done eating, I say, "I need to get to class now, Luna. Let me know if you see any grackles!"

"I'll do that," Luna says. "I'll keep a close eye out for them."

The first class I have today is Transfiguration. When I arrive at class, Ron looks to me incredulously and says, "You were eating breakfast with Loony? You totally do have a crush on her."

I groan softly. "Oh, come on, not you too."

"You're not really doing much to discourage the rumor," Neville points out.

I put my face in my palms. "You know what?" I say. "I just don't even care." I have bigger things to worry about than the Hogwarts rumor mill, and if people think we're 'together', at least they won't be wondering at the real reason we might be spending time with one another.

At lunch, I decide to just sit at the Gryffindor table and eat my lunch. Luna, however, decides to come over to sit next to me this time. "Hello, Stormseeker," she says. "Will your House be terribly upset if I eat lunch with you today?"

Ron makes a face. "Ugh, do what you want," he says. "You two are disgusting."

"Why don't we hurry up and eat and go somewhere more quiet?" I say dryly.

Everyone nearby is staring at me, and I have to sigh and roll my eyes, realizing how bad that sounds. It's not as though I like her or anything. I mean, like her like her. Nope, I'm not even going to pay attention to whatever they might be saying or thinking. I just eat my lunch. Once we've got something in our stomachs, I drag Luna off to an empty classroom.

"Muffliato. Colloportus," I mutter, waving my wand. "Ugh, why do I get the feeling that once I get some more experience under my belt, I'm going to wind up casting thirty spells before I ever talk about anything important?"

"Because you will," Luna replies.

I smirk. "Right, thought so. So have you seen any grackles today?"

"I haven't seen any black ones, except for the ones around you, of course," Luna says. "Nor even any new yellow or red ones, for that matter. There's a fair number of green ones around, but that isn't unusual."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"All kinds of grackle are attracted to death," Luna explains. "The different colors are drawn to different sorts of death, however. Black ones, as I mentioned, seek out murderers and feed upon the negative energies generated by ending the life of a helpless victim."

I wince a little at the way she describes it. "Go on."

"Red grackles go for violent deaths, such as in war or duels," Luna says. "The sorts of death where you meant to kill someone, but they were facing off with you in combat, dying fighting. Yellow grackles are a mark of unintentional, accidental death. Those are the deaths that, while you are responsible for the circumstances leading up to them, you did not mean to cause at all. There are yellow grackles around Professor Lockhart, but they've been there all year."

"I see," I say, somehow not surprised at the idea of Lockhart having accidentally killed someone. "And the green ones?"

"Green grackles are different," Luna says. "They aren't attracted to human death at all. Rather, they are drawn to people who kill animals. There's a lot of people in Hogwarts who have killed animals recently. Hagrid, Snape, Lockhart, McGonagall, Draco, Ginny, Ron, and so forth. It could be something as simple as stepping on a spider, dissecting potion ingredients, butchering tonight's dinner, or making a mistake with Transfiguration."

"Right, that's not really helpful at all," I say.

"Stormseeker," Luna says quietly. "Who died last night? It was Colin Creevey, wasn't it? I didn't see him in class today..."

I give a small nod. "I just wish I could have saved him," I say softly. "I've got to find the Heir of Slytherin. Preferably before anyone else has to die!"

"I didn't know that the Dark Lord had children," Luna says, cocking her head absently at me.

I sigh a little. "Are you absolutely certain that there aren't any possessed people or Parselmouths in the school?"

Luna gives a nod. "I would have noticed," she says. "Possessed people have a double aura, after all, and that's pretty distinctive. And Parselmouths have nafs in their ears and mouth."

"Should I even ask how you know all this?" I wonder. "Have you ever seen a Parselmouth before?"

"I've seen pictures of the Dark Lord, and Salazar Slytherin," Luna says. "The nafs show there, too."

I blink at her. "So even paintings of them would be Parselmouths?"

Luna looks at me normally. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"And I suppose there aren't many people who can see things like grackles, or everyone would be clamoring to have one at every murder trial," I comment.

"Most people don't believe they even exist," Luna says. "You're the first person I've met who isn't directly related to me who actually listens to me."

"You aren't appreciated nearly as much as you should be, Luna," I say.

"It's kind of you to say so, Stormseeker," Luna says, giving a small smile.

I slump down in a chair. "I'm out of ideas," I say, sighing. "Do you have any ideas on how we might be able to find the Heir of Slytherin?"

Luna looks thoughtfully distant for several moments. "I'm afraid not," Luna says. "If I haven't seen any new black, red, or yellow grackles, then the only one that could have killed Colin is someone I haven't seen."

"Which means it's not likely to be any of the students or staff," I say.

"It's possible that I simply haven't seen the person today," Luna says. "Although I can say for certain that it couldn't be anyone in my year. I can't keep track of all of the older students, however. If it's an older student, they might simply be avoiding coming to meals."

I nod. "Alright. Well. Continue keeping an eye out for me, please. I should go talk to Dumbledore before my next class."

I cancel the my spells, and head up to the Headmaster's office. Considering the fact that he has a password on his door, I think I must be the only student who can go to see Dumbledore whenever I want, and demand that he listen to me. That strikes me as a little sad, now that I think on it.

"Ah, Stormseeker, you're back," Dumbledore says. "Have you learned anything?"

"I've learned that nobody who went to breakfast or lunch today could be the culprit," I reply. "Headmaster, are there paintings of the Founders in the school? Specifically, of Salazar Slytherin?"

"There are," Dumbledore says. "Although not in a part there is generally accessible. Come this way."

The Headmaster's tower is much larger than one might expect it to be. I hadn't even seen the half of it during my stay here in my first summer in this world. Dumbledore takes me off into a room I haven't seen before. The Founders' Room, it's labeled. There are paintings of the four Founders here, sleeping in their ornate, ancient frames.

"Salazar Slytherin, awaken," Dumbledore commands. "This student would speak with you."

One of the paintings comes to life, and blinks at Dumbledore and me. "Who is this?"

"This is--" Dumbledore begins.

"Lexenmilot Skywalker Majere Renneck Chelseer, the Stormseeker, Heir of the Children of the Dragon's Blood," I put in.

"Hmh," Slytherin says. "I do not recognize your house, boy, but your pride in your name is admirable. Are you a pureblood, child?"

"I am, sir," I reply.

"Well enough," Slytherin says. "So, why did you wish to see me, Chelseer?"

"Where is the Chamber of Secrets?" I ask.

Slytherin snorts in laughter. "Why should I tell you that? You are not one of my descendants, are you?" He hisses something unintelligible to me.

"No, I am not," I reply. "However, your heir, or someone claiming to be such, has opened it and unleashed your basilisk upon the school."

"Good, I say!" Slytherin says. "Let them drive away those who are unworthy to study magic!"

"Right, why did I even think for half a moment that this could possibly help in any way, shape, or form?" I comment dryly. "Slytherin, sir, perhaps you haven't thought this through. There are two likely outcomes from this. One is that the school will be shut down entirely. Two is that someone will kill your precious basilisk. Also, it is entirely likely that, with such a dangerous creature slithering around, purebloods might inadvertently die in the process as well. Is that what you really want?"

"Even if I could tell you where the Chamber of Secret lies, I would not do so," Slytherin says. "And even if you were to find its entrance, you would not be able to enter regardless!"

"Because I'm not a Parselmouth, right?" I say. "Let me ask you something, then. Why has the Chamber of Secrets been opened, when there are no Parselmouths at the school?"

"Are you entirely certain of that?" Slytherin says. "Perhaps they simply have not told you of it."

"I'm quite certain," I say.

"There must be one around somewhere," Slytherin says. "Perhaps you simply haven't seen them yet. No one can possibly gain access to the Chamber of Secrets unless they can speak Parseltongue."

"Could someone have possibly learned Parseltongue?" I say, frowning a little.

"What?" Slytherin says. "A clever imposter, impersonating my own heir? It's conceivable, I suppose. If that is the case, I hope you do whatever you must in order to stop this fraud. I will not tolerate this sort of stain upon my house."

I nod. "I will do so, sir. Thank you."

There's one person whose face springs to mind when I think of the word 'fraud'. And one that just might be stupid enough to be involved in this in some way. And furthermore, one that already has the mark of someone who has accidentally killed people.

Lockhart.