Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Dumbledore calls me to his office that afternoon, probably to speak with me about Jennifer Stillman's untimely death.

"Lexen," Dumbledore says. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, and now two people are dead, one of them an eleven year old girl. Please tell me you know something about this. Did nothing like this happen in the future you came from?"

I sigh softly and take a seat. "I'm sorry that I could not say more in front of Professor McGonagall."

"Of course, Lexen," Dumbledore says. "I figured that you might be involved in some way and made certain to cover for you. But please tell me what is going on. Argus' death was unfortunate, but at his age it could be explained away without a second glance. But now I have a student dead, and I will need to deal with her parents because of this."

I say quietly, "The creature in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk."

"A basilisk?" Dumbledore says, frowning a little. "That would explain how they died without a mark on them. For a bit there, I had feared that the Heir of Slytherin had slain them with the Killing Curse. But a basilisk loose in the school is hardly an improvement."

"It shouldn't happen again," I say. "The situation is under control."

"Under control?" Dumbledore says with a touch of alarm. "Lexen, a girl is dead!"

"I'm sorry," I say, voice trembling. I blink back the tears stinging my eyes. "It was my fault. I made a mistake. I can't... I can't save her, I can't bring her back, not now. There's nothing I can do. But if there's any reparations I can make, I will make them."

Dumbledore sighs and puts his forehead in his hand. "Lexen, I can't ask that of you," he says. "I'm certain that you are doing the best job you can in keeping everyone safe and the future on course, even if you can't tell me the details." He shakes his head. "A young boy should not have to shoulder this burden alone."

"That's what my friends are for," I say quietly. "They don't know everything, either... but they keep me sane. They're the rock I stand on, and I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to them."

Dumbledore gives a nod. "Good," he says. "If anything ever slips, do remember that you can always come to me, as well." He sighs. "Now, I must arrange to have a Muggle family Obliviated to forget that their daughter ever existed, just because it would be inconvenient to have more Muggles than necessary knowing about magic."

"I'm sorry," I murmur again.

"Go on, Lexen," Dumbledore says. "You've done quite enough here today."

I can't let myself break down in front of anyone else, so I focus on my Occlumency lessons and put on a mask of relative calm. Something appropriately solemn for the circumstances, but not potentially incriminating.

I'm not sure whether the fact that we're about to leave Hogwarts for Christmas holidays is really a relief or not. Sure, I'll be dealing with fewer people, but Lucius Malfoy will be one of the few people that I'll have to deal with. And that's going to be less than relaxing.

"Draco," I ask on the train back, with just him, me, Crabbe, and Goyle in the compartment. "Does the Malfoy family have a Pensieve?"

"Certainly," Draco says. "Didn't you use it before? Anyway, I'm sure my father wouldn't mind you using it for a bit if you wanted to share more memories."

"Not precisely," I say. "More like, I want to analyze some of them myself. I've noticed that details are a lot clearer in the Pensieve, and you can often see stuff that you would have had no way of noticing at the time."

Draco nods. "Can I help?"

"Alright, I suppose," I say. "But only you."

"Of course," Draco says with a smirk.

The evening we arrive at Malfoy Manor, I ask Lucius, "Pardon me, Lucius. May I have the use of your Pensieve for the duration of the holiday?"

"Of course, Harry," Lucius says. "My resources are at your disposal."

"Thank you," I say.

I leave my first session with the Pensieve until after breakfast the next morning, however. I settle myself into the room where the Pensieve is located, and put in my three memories of the Chamber of Secrets. Draco is off busy doing something else, which is just as well since I didn't really want to share this all that much, so I just get started myself.

I watch through the scene. The memory Lexen is standing in the restroom, pulls out the diary, and writes in it. Then my surroundings blur for a moment, and when they fade into view again, I'm standing inside the Chamber of Secrets. I remain standing where I am thoughtfully as Lexen searches around for Slytherin's library.

I suppose it would have been too much to hope for to have memories that I lack show up in the Pensieve. I really don't like the fact that Tom Riddle had to control me like that to get inside, and worse that I don't remember what happened while I was under his control. I would be a lot more comfortable with it had it been like the Imperius Curse. Relatively speaking, anyway. Admittedly, the Imperius Curse was an extremely creepy experience, but at least I knew what was happening while under it, even if my motivations were skewed.

Draco appears in the memory beside me. "Sorry I'm late," he says, peering about. "Whoa. Is this the Chamber of Secrets?"

I give a nod. "That it is."

"This place is amazing!" Draco says, walking the length of the chamber. "And look! This is a statue of Salazar Slytherin himself, isn't it?" He gazes up at the oversized statue reverently.

"Yeah," I say in agreement. That was where the basilisk came out of during the first time I was in here. I'm a little wary about that, but surely we can't be hurt by a mere memory.

"You know, when I was younger, I dreamed about finding this place," Draco says. "I liked to imagine myself as actually being Slytherin's Heir, and jealously guarding his secrets, using them to gain power and fame."

I chuckle softly. "You are such a Slytherin," I say with a small grin.

"Hey, don't act like you'd do any differently," Draco says. "You wouldn't have shared those books with us if you hadn't needed help with translating them, would you?"

I think about that for a few moments. "No," I reply. "I might have shared some spells or techniques if I thought they would be useful for you guys to know, though."

"Heh, thought so," Draco says. "You're just as Slytherin as me. You just also seem to have this weird thing about saving people and feeling guilty if anyone gets hurt around you."

"Don't forget as studious as a Ravenclaw, and as patient, hard-working, and loyal as a Hufflepuff," I add lightly.

"Yeah, you're a very strange person," Draco says, snickering. "So what else is down here? Where's that library you mentioned? Can we go and take a look at that?"

"Oh, yeah," I say. "I think the memory of me wandered off somewhere to find it."

I head back toward the entrance to Slytherin's private library, only to spot the memory of me coming out of it and making his way for the doors. Strange, I thought I'd spent more time down here.

"It's in here," I say, leading Draco into the room that the memory of me recently vacated, and wondering to myself... At what point did the basilisk slither its way out of here to kill Mr. Filch?

"Merlin," Draco breathes. "Look at all of these books, and they're so old."

"This memory's almost over, though," I say. "The next one's coming up."

In a moment, the two of us are back in the restroom, watching the other me pulling out Tom Riddle's diary.

"What is that?" Draco wonders, looking over at it.

"That's how I got into the Chamber of Secrets," I say. The memory blurs, and in a blink, we're down in the Chamber again.

"What happened?" Draco asks as the memory Lexen starts heading for the library.

"I'm not a Parselmouth, so I couldn't get in myself," I say. "So I had to let it control me briefly so I could get inside."

"You let it control you?" Draco says. "That's awfully reckless, but I suppose it did work, after all. What is that book, anyway?"

I pull out the diary from my bag of holding and show it to him. "Tom Riddle's diary," I say. "It replies when you write in it."

"Where did you ever find something like that?" Draco wonders.

"I learned about it in the future," I say, tucking it away again quickly. "But I actually found it in your family's secret storage room, and 'borrowed' it over the summer."

"Oh..." Draco says. "I had no idea that we had anything like that laying around. I'm sure if my father realized we had something that could open the Chamber of Secrets, it wouldn't have just been sitting around collecting dust in storage somewhere."

The memory Lexen comes out of the library soon enough and leaves the Chamber. "Huh," I murmur. I really thought I must have been down here longer than that. "Draco, would the Pensieve show what was happening in the Chamber proper even while I was in the library?"

"I don't know," Draco says. "I'm not really sure exactly how these things work."

"I wasn't even in there very long," I mutter thoughtfully. "When did the basilisk even have a chance to come out and attack a girl who wasn't even particularly close to the Forbidden Restroom?"

Soon enough, the memory ends, and the third one starts up. We're back in the restroom again, but this time the memory version of me is not alone. Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, and Tonks are present as well.

"Who are these people?" Draco wonders.

"Remus Lupin, an Auror called Mad-Eye Moody, and his protege, Nymphadora Tonks," I explain.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of Moody," Draco says. "And this Tonks girl? I think she's my cousin. I heard something about my aunt Andromeda running off and marrying a Mudblood." He makes a face at that.

Lexen pulls out Salazar Slytherin's painting, which hisses in Parseltongue, opening the way inside. We follow after the group as they descend into the Chamber.

"What was that?" Draco wonders. "You didn't use the diary this time. Who was the Parselmouth?"

"Salazar Slytherin's portrait," I explain. "I convinced him to help."

"I have no idea how you managed to convince Slytherin's own portrait to let you into the Chamber of Secrets," Draco says, looking impressed.

"I told him there was an outsider who had managed to gain access to the Chamber somehow in an attempt to steal his secrets," I explain. Which was the truth, or at least, so I thought it was.

The group arrives inside the Chamber of Secrets, and Slytherin's portrait starts screaming about having been betrayed, and then hisses. The statue at the far end of the room opens up, and the basilisk slithers out. Then the memory blurs, and then in the blink of an eye, the people in the memory are all laying on the floor, dead or just regaining consciousness.

"What in Merlin's name happened?" Draco breathes.

"I have no idea," I say. "I thought Remus or Moody must have stunned me. But neither was even looking at me when I passed out."

"Hey, there's that diary again," Draco says. "You had it then, too? Why didn't you just use that to get inside?"

"For starters, I didn't want anyone else to know I even had it," I say, frowning a little.

Lexen goes over to Slytherin's painting. Dumbledore is getting up. Slytherin hisses, and the basilisk returns. Dumbledore engages the basilisk. And then, in the blink of an eye, the scene shifts. We're now in the dormitory in Torn Elkandu, and a younger Lexen is just waking up in bed.

"What just happened there?" Draco says.

"Er, I died," I say. "I accidentally made eye contact with the basilisk." I hadn't meant the memory to go this far. I'd just intended to cover the parts involving the Chamber of Secrets itself.

"Where are we?" Draco wonders, and peers at the young Lexen as he gets up and looks around for his wand. "Wait, you look younger here. And you don't have a scar on your forehead." His eyes widen as it dawns on him. "You went back to the start!"

The memory ends, and the Pensieve ejects us again. I sigh, and nod at Draco. "Yeah," I say. "That's when I started over."

"But wait," Draco says. "You didn't look much older than you do now when you went down to the Chamber in that last memory."

"It was toward the end of what would have been second year if Hogwarts hadn't been shut down," I say quietly.

Draco's eyes widen. "So you're really only two years older than me!"

"One year, actually," I say, sheepishly looking at the floor. "I was ten years old when I first came to this universe. I just have two extra years of school."

"I don't believe it," Draco says. "My father and everyone were all thinking that you were from some distant future where you were a powerful adult wizard."

"Draco," I say. "Please promise me you won't tell your father about this. I don't want Lucius to find out."

"Find out about what?" says Lucius, striding into the Pensieve room.

My blood runs cold. I glance to him. I turn to give a pleading gaze toward Draco. A small grin slowly spreads across Draco's face.

"Harry stole something from our secret storage room," Draco says, looking smug.

"Oh?" Lucius says, raising an eyebrow and looking at me. "Show me."

I pull Tom Riddle's diary out of my bag of holding and pass it over to Lucius reluctantly. "This, sir," I say quietly.

Lucius frowns, taking it and looking at it. "How did you know about this?" Lucius says. "No, never mind, you probably encountered it in the future. Why did you take it?"

"I used it to get into the Chamber of Secrets," I admit.

"You found a way into the Chamber of Secrets?" Lucius says, eyes widening in surprise.

"Yes, sir," I say. "I brought out several books that were in Salazar Slytherin's private library. Like this one." I bring out the Codex Veritatum.

"The Book of Truths?" Lucius says. "It really does still exist?"

"Indeed," I say. "We've been diligently studying Latin for the last few months. But yes, that's why I asked for your Pensieve. I wanted to review my memories of the Chamber of Secrets without having to go down there again."

Lucius hands the diary back to me. "You might have asked me first, but I can see why you did not," Lucius says. "The Dark Lord gave that to me for safekeeping many years ago. I would have been reluctant to part with it, and still am. I would, however, like to be able to look through some of the material you have brought out of the Chamber of Secrets."

"Of course," I say, offering him the Codex Veritatum. "I'd like it back before we return to school, though. We're still working on translating it."

"Certainly," Lucius says, taking the book with a greedy grin. "Carry on." He heads out of the room again.

Once the door closes behind him, I let out the breath that I've been holding as a heavy sigh. "Draco, I could kiss you," I say.

"Please don't," Draco says, smirking.

"I owe you," I say quietly. "Big time. Anything you want, just ask, and I'll walk over dead bodies to see it done."

Draco grins broadly and says, "I'll hold you to that, Stormseeker."

I put Tom Riddle's diary back into my bag of holding, and do some quick Occlumency exercises to calm my racing heart and panicking mind. For a few moments there, I felt like a deer caught staring at a hungry wolf.

It occurs to me that this Draco is different from the one in my last life. That one did not hesitate to betray me after giving his word that he would keep a secret for me, even after accepting a bribe for it. This one will deceive even his own father for my sake. Or perhaps it's not so much that they're different that it is that our relationship is very different. My mistake before, then, was in trusting too much in someone whose trust I had not earned.

"Well. Then." I turn back toward the Pensieve. "Shall we get back to what we were doing?"

"Yeah," Draco says. "Let's."

We sink back into the Pensieve to replay my memories of the Chamber of Secrets. We're back in the restroom as the memory Lexen is coming in. After a few moments, the scene blurs, and when it sharpens again, we're in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Hmm," I say. "Out of curiosity..." I head out of the Chamber and up the stairs.

"Hmm?" Draco says, following along after me.

We step out of the restroom and into the corridor outside. Mr. Filch's body is lying on the floor beneath the words written on the wall.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened," Draco reads. "Enemies of the Heir, beware? No wonder the teachers sealed off this corridor."

"There is no way that I could have seen this already," I say. "So is it just showing this because that's how I remember it next, or is it actually showing information that I could not have possibly known at the time? Merlin, if it's the latter, I could totally abuse Pensieves..."

"Interesting," Draco says thoughtfully.

With the next memory, Draco peers closely at the memory Lexen, and looks at the watch on my hand, and does so again when we blink down to the Chamber.

"According to your watch, you were being controlled by that diary for over two hours," Draco says.

"Shit," I mutter. "I didn't even think to check that."

"Yeah, better make a mental note of that," Draco says. "If I ever let myself be controlled by a mysterious dark artifact, check the time first. Or how about just, don't let myself be controlled by a mysterious dark artifact."

"Hey, it was to get into the Chamber of Secrets," I say. "He told me that there wasn't any other way, and said you couldn't learn Parseltongue if you weren't born with it. Although I seem to recall hearing a suggestion otherwise at one point..."

"I imagine that it might be hard," Draco says. "But I've heard of people learning other magical languages. Mermish, and such."

Back to the memory of opening the Chamber with Slytherin's portrait. I pay closer attention to the distinctive hissing sound the painting makes when it opens the sink, and then the door inside. It's clearly the same word. And then the sequence of hisses used to call the basilisk is something longer and more complex. Then the world blurs for a moment, and everyone is laying on the ground.

"Draco," I say thoughtfully. "Is it just me, or is that... pretty much exactly like when the diary was controlling me?"

"Yeah..." Draco says.

"But I certainly didn't let him do that then!" I protest.

"There wasn't anyone else in the Chamber," Draco says. "If he controlled you, he could have caught the others by surprise and completely messed up their plans. They wouldn't have been expecting you to attack them."

I frown deeply and look around at the scene. "Probably hit the rooster first to make sure the basilisk was safe. Moody must have either gotten hit with the Killing Curse, or the basilisk's gaze."

"His eyes were still protected," Draco points out. "It was probably the Killing Curse."

"And then the basilisk itself took out Remus, Tonks, and Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was saved by his phoenix..." I go on. My voice is trembling a little, and then I realize, so are my hands. Thankfully, the scene vanishes a moment later, to be briefly replaced by the Torn Elkandu dormitory before we're ejected from the Pensieve again.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Draco asks.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not," I say. I pull out Tom Riddle's diary out of my pocket and look at it as though it's a venomous snake that could bite at any moment. "I've just learned that this thing forced me to use the Killing Curse on someone against my will!" My blood burns in my veins. "What am I supposed to think?"

"So, get rid of it," Draco suggests. "Put it back in the secret storage room and never touch it again. We'll find another way into the Chamber. And even if we can't, we've gotten a lot out of it already."

"I want to destroy it," I say quietly. "He lied to me, used me, made me kill for him..." I set the diary down on a table and whip out my wand, and cast, "Incendio!" The fire fails to catch, however.

"I don't think it'll be that easy," Draco says. "Magical artifacts like that usually have some sort of protection upon them. If the Dark Lord thought it was important enough to give it to my father for safekeeping, it might be very, very hard to destroy."

I sigh and nod, grab the diary and put it away again. "I'll figure out a way later," I say. "For now, let's see if we can figure out the Parseltongue to get inside."

I adjust the memories inside of the Pensieve to just play Slytherin's portrait opening the Chamber of Secrets on repeat. We hop back in and listen to it run a few times, and try to mimic the sound ourselves.

"Unfortunately, it's impossible to tell if we've got it right or not without actually going back to test it," I say.

"We can check it out when we get back from holiday," Draco says.

"Yeah," I say.

Christmas at Malfoy Manor is a cheerful affair this year. With the chance to read the Codex Veritatum, Lucius has more than forgiven my unasked borrowing of Tom Riddle's diary and seems to be in high spirits for the holidays.

This year's presents are fun, but nothing unusual or noteworthy. Candy and books and toys. I would feel bad if the Malfoys lavished presents upon me after all that I've deceived them, but they can certainly afford to do so, regardless.

The New Year's Eve party this year is being held at the Greengrass residence. "Considering what happened last year," Lucius tells me. "Do you really want to come?"

I nod. "If anyone is stupid enough to attempt to murder me after last year's debacle, I won't feel bad about killing thing," I comment.

"Very well," Lucius says, chuckling darkly.

The Greengrass estate isn't quite as large or lavish as Malfoy Manor, but it still makes the Weasleys' place look like a barn. Then again, a nice little house in town would make the Burrow look like a barn. The same sort of crowd comes this year, plus or minus a few families. Would the Weasleys ever be invited to a party like this? Highly doubtful. Even though the Weasleys are also purebloods, these families think themselves better than them. Is it just because of their money, or because they believe the Weasleys to be blood traitors?

There's a different tone to the crowd this year, though, at least around me. They definitely haven't forgotten the events of last year. They flinch a little whenever I come near, and treat me with deliberate deference tempered with a thinly disguised feeling of absolute terror. Do they really think of me as the next Dark Lord?

"My son speaks highly of you," says Theodore Nott's father. "But why did you ever wind up in Gryffindor?"

"Because I'm a reckless idiot with no sense of self-preservation," I give my standard reply.

Nott Sr. chuckles a bit. "And I hear that you've started building your own private army this year, as well. And you've given yourself a title. Stormseeker, was it?"

"Yes," I say. "That's right."

"So where are you intending to go with this, I wonder?" Nott says. "Will it be the Death Eaters all over again?"

"No," I reply. "Not really. It seems to me like wantonly killing Muggles is pretty counterproductive. It would be hard to make a serious dent in the Muggle population anytime soon, but if one really wants to have some fun and make a sport out of killing them, it seems to me like a little more discretion is required in this day and age. Otherwise, that'll just make people hate you."

"True," Nott agrees.

"No need to make enemies of the rest of the wizarding population right off the bat," I say. "Although I suppose there's a point to the masks thing. Everyone knows who you are, but nobody really knows who you are? I can see the appeal to that, but on the flip side, you shouldn't have to hide what you're doing."

"That's true," Nott murmurs. "So, you don't like Muggles. What do you think of the Mudbloods? I hear you have a couple of them in your inner circle, and I have to wonder about that."

"They're still wizards," I say, shrugging. "You've spent generations casting Squibs out of pureblood families. And then some generations later, Mudbloods pop up. I can't believe nobody's made the connection. It seems to me to be patently obvious. Magic doesn't come from nowhere. True Muggles can't produce wizards. If you go back far enough, I'd imagine you'd find connections to old purebloods families in every one of those Mudbloods, through a long line of Squibs."

"Hmm, I never thought of it that way, but there may be a point to that," Nott says.

It occurs to me that he may just be agreeing to anything I say. "I say, we need to keep ourselves completely separate from the Muggles. Keep our Squibs, bring in the Mudbloods, and no more of this mixing."

"You may be right about that," Nott says.

"There's no excuse for any Muggle to know about magic. If there were a way to track down every Squib in the world, I'd say we should do it. Every Squib out there that thinks it's a Muggle is a danger to our secrets. Squibs are still magical. And they can detect magic that Muggles cannot. That's a risk."

"Indeed it is," Nott agrees. "One that never occurred to me."

"And another thing," I say. "What's with all the pureblood families that only have one child? Do you want the Mudbloods and blood traitors to outbreed you? It's no wonder the old families are slowly dying off. Look at the Weasleys. Blood traitors all, and yet they have increased the number of purebloods in the next generation rather than letting it decrease even further."

"Hmm, this is true," Nott says.

"Pureblood families need to have more babies!" I exclaim, earning some looks from those within earshot. "At least three children per couple, minimum!"

"Oh yes, you're absolutely right," murmur some others nearby.

"Also, wrackspurts should be outlawed," I go on to say. "There's no excuse for subjecting the children to this sort of thing."

"Of course, of course," comes the agreement, although I can see the puzzlement on their faces. That settles it. They're definitely just agreeing with everything I'm saying.

Lucius approaches me later and says, "Are you enjoying the party, Stormseeker?"

"I think they don't know what to make of me," I comment.

"You did make quite the impression last year," Lucius replies. "And those of us who are parents have been hearing many interesting things about what's been going on at Hogwarts of late."

And it's all based on a lie. A secret lie. That only Lucius and Narcissa know. What have they told the others about me? What do these other people think I am? I have no idea. Do they really think that I'm the next Dark Lord? I'm terrified about what might happen if something should slip somewhere along the way. I don't have the skill or experience to back up the reputation I'm getting. This could get very bad, very fast.

Holiday break ends without further incident. As Draco and I are preparing to return to Hogwarts for the start of the next term, Lucius approaches me to speak with me.

"I would like to continue to study the Codex Veritatum for a while longer," Lucius says. "You have other books you are working on, don't you?"

"Yeah," I say reluctantly. I'd like it back, but I can't really argue with him about it. Best to just keep him happy. "Go ahead and keep it for now."

"Thank you," Lucius says. "You are most generous. The Book of Truths has been greatly enlightening."

I'd really like a chance to read it myself, sometime. But my grasp of Latin just isn't good enough yet. I've been making good progress on it, but I realize that attempting to translate ancient books of arcane lore may not be the best way to learn a language. Maybe I should look through Flourish and Blotts' catalogue some more and see if they have a Latin equivalent for 'See Popo Run'.

When the time comes to board the Hogwarts Express, I take a seat with Draco, Luna, Neville, and Hermione. Luna seems unusually cheerful at the moment, and I have to wonder why.

"Stormseeker!" she says brightly as I sit down next to her. "Have you heard the news?"

"Which news?" I wonder.

Luna passes me a copy of the latest issue of The Quibbler. Hmm, I diligently at least skim over each issue of the Daily Prophet, but maybe I should read this one as well. The primary headline reads, "Ministry attempts to exterminate wrackspurts".

"I don't think they're going to succeed," I say dryly.

"Probably not," Luna says. "They don't even realize how big an infestation they have on their hands. But they've hired on my father as a special consultant for it."

"Congratulations," I say, chuckling. "I have to wonder why people were listening to random comments I was making at a New Year's Eve party."

Draco snorts softly, and says, "At least you weren't drunk."

"But I don't drink," I say. "Besides, I'm twelve."

"So?" Draco says. "It would not surprise me at all if you turned into a sodden drunkard before you turn seventeen."

"Draco, that's a horrible thought," Hermione admonishes him.

"I mean it," Draco says. "I don't know if I'd be able to see what he's seen, go through what he's gone through, and be able to stay sane."

"Well, whatever else happens, we're here for you, mate," Neville assures me.

"Thanks," I murmur. But I can never shake the thought that they might not always be here for me. I really don't want to lose them.