Chapter 9: CHP 9
I went to the Great Hall hoping to get some food at least for my troubles. That was a complicated situation. I still can't rule out if Ginny has the Diary or not. So much has changed, maybe this has too, I haven't come any closer to finding out who actually has it, I did get to beat up Gilderoy Lockhart so that was a plus. I might have no choice but to go around occasionally with my Eyes unveiled and try to see if I have any luck. Might try to listen to the gossip train to check if Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, got petrified like she did in canon. That will give me a better idea if the Diary is still in play, and it'll rule out Ginny from being in possession of it. If the cat still got petrified while Ginny wasn't anywhere near it, then she reasonably couldn't have done it.
The Great Hall feast was wrapping up but I had enough time to grab a pie and eat it before the plates got summoned back. If I get hungry, I'll have to go midnight exploring to find the Kitchen. Ron and Hermione asked me why I was so late and I had to explain to them what had happened with Ginny.
"No way Harry, Professor Lockhart couldn't have done that. Are you sure he was about to hurt Ginny when you got there? I don't believe it. Couldn't he have been there just walking or something?" Hermione seemed distraught, her faith in the professor she was crushing on shaky.
"I don't care that you don't believe it, I was there," I bit out, "I wasn't about to just let him get away with it." My response was a bit curt. I knew she didn't mean anything bad by it, more just a belief in the good in people, but I didn't want to hear someone defending him right now.
"More importantly, Ron, are you okay? Ginny should be with Madam Pomfrey right now if you want to go visit her." Ron was silent after my recounting. It seemed a contemplative silence, but his knuckles were white from how tough he was clenching his fist.
"Thanks Harry," he said quietly, "I don't know what I would've done if Ginny was hurt. Thank you for saving her. I'll go visit her now, alone if you wouldn't mind." Saying so, he got up and left. If anything, Ron's uncharacteristic behaviour snapped Hermione from her denial, tears flowing from her face. She leaned into me for comfort, my hands going around to hug her.
"I can't believe a Professor would do that, it's horrible, disgusting," she sniffed.
"Professors are people too, Hermione," I said softly, "and people are capable of terrible things."
With the subdued atmosphere, we headed towards Gryffindor Tower. I finished my nightly routine and headed for bed, the matter of the Diary still on my mind.
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The latest developments in school were concerning, Dumbledore thought. Aside from the massive blunder he and the Board of Governors had made in hiring an incompetent buffoon like Gilderoy Lockhart, he nearly had to deal with the near assault of a child. He was glad for Harry's timely intervention but the way the matter was resolved was not going to be easily explained away. Broken spine, crushed lower ribs, pulped intestines and organ damage. Lockhart would survive, Pomfrey's skilled healing magic would make sure of that, but it seemed his injuries weren't responding as well as they should, according to her. And that brought his thoughts to another concern of his.
The portrait had said that Harry had punched him, so it was unlikely that it was actively channelled magic or some hidden magical trinket, while his academics and spellcasting were showing improvement, they were not to the level of performing wandlessly or to the level shown. It could have been the protection lingering on him, similar to what happened with the shade of Voldemort and Quirrell last year, an instinctive outlash to protect, perhaps? And yet, he could feel a lingering negativity at the place of the incident, ominous and sharp in a way that couldn't be put into words, only felt after years of experience with sensing magic.
Accidental magic often occurs to protect the child causing it, but the negativity accompanying this incident was greatly worrying and perhaps indicative of issues with young Harry's emotional state. He knew that the Dursley's weren't particularly good caretakers but Harry seemed fine last year. Could his reintroduction with magic have worsened their treatment of him? Another thing to look into and check after this debacle was handled. He let out a sigh. It was at times like this that he questioned if he was able enough to handle all the work that came with his many responsibilities. He wasn't the spry, enthusiastic, young man he once was. At 130, he really should be looking into retirement but he only found more work being piled onto him.
Regardless, it was concerning and something he should look into. He'd have to look into getting a new DADA teacher, as well as making sure Lockhart got punished to the fullest extent of the law and maybe a little more. He would be transferred over to St. Mungo's as well; he didn't want to keep scum in this school any longer than necessary if he could help it.
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My routine over the next few weeks changed a little and included talking to Lavender and Parvati, who made sure to be up to date regarding any gossip that popped up, trying to gather as much information as possible.
Mrs. Norris did in fact get petrified on that same Halloween night, so canon events were still happening as per schedule, but the petrification was mostly overshadowed by what happened with Ginny. Popular theory and preliminary examination led to the belief that Lockhart had magically compelled her to come to his office on the second floor that night and planned to obliviate her of her memory after.
We still didn't know if she was the first of his victims or not, and we wouldn't know until Lockhart recovered enough to wake up from his coma and wounds. This did have the side effect of making most of the female population much more cautious with their day to day interactions and never travelling alone between lectures. It wouldn't help them much if a Basilisk came up to them but it's something, I guess. It also helped increase my standing among the girls in the castle, to the point where strangers I had never talked to before came up to me and thanked me for beating up Lockhart. It was nice but not something I expected.
Aside from that I realized that my drawbacks were messing with my growth, that or the basic knowledge I had about manipulating cursed energy was lacking for higher level stuff like barriers, talismans, simple domains and the rest. I knew that Cursed Energy reserves didn't grow and the amount you had was predetermined at birth, but it didn't strike me that the amount that I had and hadn't noticed was growing was because my total reserves weren't fully 'unlocked' yet. My Cursed Technique was slow going as well, in the sense that I could feel the souls of objects and move them telekinetically, but any higher application was blocked off by a lack of understanding or skill. My Six Eyes weren't anywhere close to where I imagine Gojo's to be at, but I would get there in time.
The one field I was thriving in was magic. Spellcasting was near instinctual when I bothered trying with my wand, it was slightly difficult doing things wandlessly but something I was quickly developing skill with. Nothing came without cost though, and my growing skill required me to read hundreds of magic theory books to grow my knowledge base. It would definitely help with my Six Eyes magic sensing skill as that relied on my understanding of magic to make sense of the inputs I received. It was horrible, why were magic books so boring. Not all of them of course, there were a few gems where the authors passion for the subject really came through (sometimes literally, in a show of magic) but the majority of books read like scientific journals, interesting subject material but clinically dead language.
I couldn't exactly go roaming around at night looking for suspicious individuals because with my Six Eyes even if they were covered, I could still see through them. If I came across a basilisk, I would probably be petrified with how good my vision was. I was worried even a small reflection off some small metal piece enough for me to pick out its details and petrify me. I couldn't go to the Chamber of Secrets and kill it either because I didn't have the ability to speak Parseltongue anymore, probably losing it with my Horcrux, I checked on the small mural of a snake on the second-floor bathroom basin. Would have been nice to know that before I exorcised myself. It wouldn't have changed anything, I would have still gone through with my actions with extreme prejudice, but it would've felt better to make informed decisions and alternate paths.
I was really stuck at an impasse. I didn't know what to do to go forward. I was waiting impotently and it grated at me.
It was after I had been stuck cleaning the cauldrons in Snape's class, punishment for 'cheating' on my classwork, which was actually a potion I made with perfection due to my accuracy in measurements and improved mental abilities. Snape was petty, and I would be doing my best to make his life miserable.
I was heading back to Gryffindor tower when my instincts started to scream at me in danger. The suddenness of it and the sheer intensity caused me to go into overdrive, time dilating for me. My senses started picking up and paying attention to all the stimuli that get ignored, the sound of my breathing, my blood pumping, the brushing of my shoes against stone, my clothes rustling against each other, a faint shuffling sound coming closer, a grinding rough, abrasive sound, hissing. It didn't take long to put two and two together.
I was about to be attacked by the Basilisk.
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