Ascension 36

“I am going to talk to Hagrid,” he muttered quietly, but Ron heard him all the same, the ginger pausing mid-bite to look at him as he looked

“I am going to talk to Hagrid,” he muttered quietly, but Ron heard him all the same, the ginger pausing mid-bite to look at him as he looked at the Head Table, finding Dumbledore absent from it once again, “They are not going to do anything, and neither are they telling us anything. Lockhart is busy training students and being a poster boy…Hermione isn't going to get cured like this. Snape has tried a dozen potions, and Madam Pomfrey has already dropped her wand on this.”

“So why go to Hagrid then?” Ron asked, bewildered beyond measure as he pointed his spoon in the direction of the forest, “You know that he was kicked out in his third year, right? What is he going to do that Snape or Dumbledore couldn't do?”

“He may know something because he was kicked out. Besides, it's better than doing nothing.”

“But he would have told Dumbledore if he did, he was the one to save his arse back then,” Ron countered, and Neville had no words for that. Sighing as he looked down at his half-empty bowl, he brushed the sweat off his forehead and mentally swore as he saw yet another door close in front of him. But yet, despite the logic behind Ron’s words, Neville couldn’t help but think about visiting the half-giant anyway. Last year, Hagrid had been involved in the mess that had been the Philosopher’s Stone and its thievery, and this time too he was directly tied to the fiasco. Besides, he doubted Dumbledore would do anything even if Hagrid knew anything and implicate his involvement once again, not with how anti-creature the current regime was.

“I am still going to him tonight,” he sighed, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder, shrugging at Ron’s confused expression. “He must have some idea of who did it fifty years ago, that’s better than nothing.”

“I will come with you,” Ron sighed, before… definitely not pouting as he morosely looked at the Head Table, “Snape was going to take submissions today, right?”

“He was,” Neville nodded, before flicking his wand to float over his homework to the ginger, “Copy that during lunch, and Ron, if I find even a drop of oil or gravy on that parchment, I will drop you in a nest of spiders.”

Looking queasy at the thought, the boy shuddered and gave him an uncomfortable nod, Neville smiled pleasantly before walking out of the hall. Sighing as he felt eyes and whispers alike follow him, he continued his trek towards the Grand Staircase, intent on getting in some practice instead of listening to Binns. On the way, Neville passed by a group of Slytherins, resolute on ignoring them completely as soon as he saw the platinum blond hair reflect the morning sun right into his eyes.

“Father wrote to me this morning,” Draco’s grating, arrogant voice drifted through the air anyways, and out of the corner of his eyes, Neville was aware of the Malfoy heir’s gaze upon him, as the first years crowded closer to him, “He said the Minister was very distraught at the sad state of affairs here, and Dumbledore received a lashing of his lifetime at his hands! And if the attacks don’t stop, they are going to arrest him and that stupid oaf by the lake.”

“Who, Hagrid?” Nott asked, as Neville crossed by the group, keeping his eyes firmly ahead of him as he skirted past Parkinson.

“Who else?” the snide tone came again, accompanied by what he assumed would be a heavy role in his eyes as Draco continued, “I don’t understand why they are silent though. It has been a long time coming that someone got around to cleaning this place up. Squibs, mudbloods, and filth of all sorts roaming around between us, I say the Heir of Slytherin is finally making Hogwarts great again. Honestly, this would have been solved fifty years ago if that mudblood Riddle or whatever didn’t catch the culprit.”

“Wasn’t it Hagrid himself?” 

“Merlin’s balls, Nott! You really believe that stupid oaf to be the great Heir of Slytherin?!” Dcaro scoffed, ”Most probably that blame was shifted on that creature lover to protect the real Heir, or the Heir Slytherin did it himself. Still, it’s good that I can finally complete a class in peace instead of hearing that mudblood open her mouth every ten min-urk!”

Lowering his wand, Neville stopped and looked over his shoulder at the group, watching how Crabbe and Goyle were looking at Draco’s bent-over form, while Pansy was on her knees by him. Nott was quietly watching him, still leaning to the side but his wand in hand, while the first years had moved away from them all, standing at the corner.

As Draco hacked and coughed from the sudden and strong bludgeoning he had taken right to his stomach, Neville turned his head and continued on his way. Riddle? The guy who had caught Hagrid and implicated him to be the culprit; he had read about him in the newspaper clippings. But there was no ‘Slytherin’ studying in Hogwarts for the last nine hundred years, and the Gaunts had died out centuries ago. And the last wizard to claim Slytherin’s legacy was Lord Voldemort, but he had never studied at Hogwarts—and if he had done so, the Dark Lord had done it under an alias. And while he had known that Hagrid wasn’t the person behind the petrifications, Draco’s words had reminded him of something.

Other than Dumbledore and Hagrid, Riddle too had been involved in the mess. Enough so that Dippet had seen fit to reward him with the Special Services award. Maybe he could tell him something that Hagrid and Dumbkledore wouldn’t…but for that, he would need to find the man.

Before someone else got attacked.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Potter! Try to petrify someone now you fucking snake!” a voice called out, and Harry felt a curse strike his robes. However, unlike last year, this time, Arcturus and Cassiopeia had ensured they were protected against the basic spells thrown around in Hogwarts. Nothing short of a strong lacero or bombarda could make it past the enchanted cloth, and it was with that knowledge that Harry turned around, casting an expelliarmus instead of a protego as another spell whizzed past his shoulder, breaking the mirror behind him.

A wand clattered to the floor as the Ravenclaw jerked back with shock, and the boy beside him moved his wand for another spell. Twisting his wrist, Harry wea-

“What is the meaning of this?” The door beside him opened up, and Lockhart stepped out, looking at him first before his eyes turned towards the seniors, flicking to the wand on the floor, “Fifty points from Ravenclaw, and fifty from Hufflepuff. Now return to your common room before it becomes a hundred each.”

“Thank you Professor,” he muttered, lowering his eyes as Lockhart’s gaze returned to him, while the two Ravenclaws walked out with a quiet glare aimed at him, “I was ju-”

“I heard what happened Potter, you need not explain self-defence to me,” the DADA professor chuckled, moving to the basin and adjusting his robes as he offhandedly repaired the mirror, “I know all about the stares and the whispers, and the way you and your sister have been targeted. Besides, you just used a disarming spell…that had been a cutting curse.”

The man nodded towards the newly repaired mirror, and Harry nodded, still uncomfortable at the prospect of a teacher stepping in directly. Who knew what those Ravenclaws would now do in return for this?

“Now, I think you are supposed to be in my class, are you not?”

“Yes, Professor,” he nodded, meeting Lockhart’s eyes, “I shall be on my way.”

“Be so,” he inclined his head towards the door, and turned towards the mirror again, “I have noticed you were absent from the training yesterday, make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, Professor,” he stilled and nodded again, before finally making his way out of the washroom. Outside, Persephone and Tracey were both waiting for him, and Harry paused for a moment as he looked around for the wizards. “Did those two leave?”

“They did, shot a glare like a basilisk at us too,” Tracey rolled her eyes, dropping an arm over his shoulder as they started to walk towards the DADA classroom, “Daphne was worried and went to get Professor Lockhart.”

“Lockhart was inside with us,” he shook his head and stashed his wand back into the holster,  “He stepped in before anything could happen.”

“He didn’t punish you, did he?”

“He didn’t, but he did tell me not to be absent from the duelling classes again.”

“I told you you should not skip clas-”

“Harry!” Daphne shouted as soon as they rounded the corner, her wand drawn by her side as she rushed towards them, blue eyes wide and worried, “What happene-”

“I am fine,” he reassured her, spreading his arms to show her his unhurt state as he shook his head, “Lockhart was inside when the boys came in, and docked them fifty points before anything could happen. Relax, Daphne.”

“He should have taken away a hundred,” her eyes narrowed upon his words, before she seemed to relax somewhat as she gave him a once-over, and sniffed. “Come, the class is about to start.”

As they walked towards the classroom, Harry stopped at the sight of Neville holding Weasley by his shoulder, keeping him back from Malfoy and Parkinson both as the Gryffindors and Slytherins stood around quietly. 

“Take that back you bloody git!” Weasley shouted, red with rage as he struggled against Neville’s grip, “Hermione is a dozen times better than this pug you call your girlfriend!”

“She is a—sorry, she was a mudblood,” Pansy’s snide voice bit back, and all four of them stopped as Neville finally deigned to look at the witch, and something must have happened before their arrival, for even Malfoy shuffled back a little at the look in Neville’s eyes.

“You have an awfully short memory Malfoy,” Neville whispered, amber eyes glaring at the four Slytherins with enough intensity that all of them quailed under his anger, “Dementia seems to run rampant in your House, as you have forgotten just what you are in front of me, if nobility and pure-blood is all that matters. So shut up and stand aside before I use more than a bludgeoner.”

“Are we using magic in the corridors, Mr. Longbottom?” Lockhart’s steady voice silenced them all as the doors to his classroom opened. The wizard stood with his hands crossed over his chest… his robes completely different from what he had been wearing just two minutes ago. And scratch that, just how was Lockhart standing inside his classroom when Harry had exited the washroom before him?! There was only a single corridor from that side leading to th-

“Enough dallying, come on inside now,” Harry blinked as Lockhart smiled, giving him a wink as of to say ‘Got you there didn’t I?’ as he ushered everyone inside, shutting the doors after them before walking upto his desk, “Now, what were we doing in the last class, has anyone got the expelliarmus down? Except for Mr. Longbottom and the Potters, of course.”

Hands shot up throughout the class, much more than any previous time a teacher had asked the question, Harry noted. Even Parvati Patil had gotten the spell down amusingly, and the Indian witch was probably always the last to get the DADA practical done. Guess the chances of getting petrified by the Heir of Slytherin had really raised the importance of the subject and practical magic in the students’ eyes.

“That’s impressive,” Lockhart nodded slowly, eyes tracking over every raised hand quickly before settling upon Tracey, “Ms Davis, come forward, and you too, Mr. Thomas. You both are going to attempt your best to disarm each other at the count of three. First, Mr. Thomas, then Ms. Davis. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Nott, you will be second…and as for the third, hmm…how about you, Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Patil?”

Considering he and Persephone already had the spell down, Harry simply took out his Potions homework and began to complete it, already having mastered most of the second-year spells by heart. Merlin’s pants, it was getting exhausting to write parchment after parchment tho-

“What is Neville doing?”

“Huh?” Harry looked up at Persephone, following her bewildered gaze to his left, where Neville was staring at Lockhart quietly, eyes narrowed in the direction of the blonde wizard as he corrected Parvati’s form. “he is looking at Lockhart?”

“I know what ‘looking’ is,” she shook her head with a frown creasing across her forehead, removing an errant lock from in front of her eyes as she did so, “That’s…that’s not looking. It is like Neville has never seen Lockhart before, or he is trying to remember who he is.”

“I think you are just jealous Neville gets more attention from Lockhart than you do.”

“Choose your next words very wisely, Harry,” she narrowed her eyes at his mumble, “or I will turn your head red for the day.”

“Ha ha ha,” he shivered mockingly at her words, “It's almost like I don’t know a finite.”

“You were better when you used to roam around behind me,” she groaned, smacking her forehead on the table, and Harry barely saved his parchment from the falling inkpot—wandless levitation for the win. Unknowing how she had almost achieved her goal, Persephone continued her mumbles beneath the table, “Now you are just bullying me every now and then.”

“Hey now, don’t call me a fat and uneducated muggle!”

“True, that’s a big insult,” she winced, before suddenly uprihting herself and leaning close to him, “Where is Scylla?” 

“Last I heard from her, she said she wanted to explore the forest to the North,” he mumbled back, erecting a privacy ward around them. With how everyone already loathed them to some degree or the other, Harry was in no hurry to let the world know about his parseltongue, let alone the fact that he had a snake as a familiar. Morons would not waste another eyeblink in assuming he was the Heir of Slytherin and murdering him and Persephone on the spot—or chuck them into Azkaban, “She was supposed to come back on the last full moon, but I don’t know why she never appeared.”

“That’s weird, she is never late,” she frowned, before looking at his chest, “Can’t you…I don’t know, feel her? Like I can somewhat feel Sgàile.”

“Not yet, not to level you two are on,” he sighed, looking in the direction of the forest, “Cassioepeia said these things take time, especially since Scylla is…well, more conscious of herself than Sgàile, and is overall more intelligent as well. It will take another six months for the link to develop for me to sense her location and state.”

“Do you think you will be able to mentally communicate?”

“Telepathy is something only mythical beasts like Sphinxes and others are capable of. I doubt Scylla is one of them.” he rolled his eyes, continuing his homework as out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daphne return to her seat, “Have fun?”

“If watching Parvati bumble about trying to figure out which end of her wand she has to point at me counts as fun, then yes,” she sniffed—and Harry would never understand just what business she had, acting so Ladylike at twelve! “I should have kept my hand down.”

“Yes, well, impressing the chivalrous and handsome Lockhart the Great was one of your lifelong ambitions.”

“You are getting too sassy for your own good, Potter.”

“So I am told,” he laughed, making Daphne huff as he watched her and Persephone share a look, “Irritating you two is probably the second best thing I can do.”

“And what’s the first?”

“Irritating all three of you.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on Ron, we are going to Hagrid,” Neville kneeled by snoring ginger, shaking him slightly to wake the Weasley up. However, he kept on sleeping like a babe, not even a grumble of protest leaving him at how hard his bed was being rattled. Pausing for a moment, Neville sighed and pinched the boy again as he took out his wand, “For Merlin’s sake, don’t make me do this, Ron.”

Flicking his wand at the jugs kept in the corner of the dorm, Nievlle floated on of them above Ron’s face and tilted it slowly. A few drops splattered upon the sleeping redhead, but the boy simply turned on his side and kept on sleeping, making Neville look down in irritation as he twisted his wand. An entire jug’s worth of water splashed down on Ron’s face, soaking his head and chest in cold water. Sputtering and coughing madly, he shot up instantly, eyes wide and angry as water streamed down his entire front.

“Who—What the hell, Neville?!”

“You weren’t waking up,” he rolled his eyes as the coughs that wracked through Ron’s entire body, drying him and hitting him with a warming charm for good measure. Stepping back from the bed as Ron fixed his clothes and glared at him, Neville unfurled his invisibility cloak and looked at his friend, “Come on, we need to get to Hagrid.”

“You could have waited five more minutes, I was just about to sign a fan’s broom,” Ron sleepily complained, glaring at him past half-drooping yeelids as he shoved himself off his bed, almost stumbling to the floor. Watching the boy put on his robes, Neville walked to the window and looked out at the lake, a distant little yellow light glowing in the dark, close to the forest, “Is he even awake at this hour?”

“He should be. I drugged his food with laxatives to make sure he stays in that cabin.”

“You did what?!” Ron's jaw dropped open and Neville shrugged as he watched him tie his shoe laces, “Blimey mate, just why the hell would you do that to a wizard?”

“It keeps him in that cabin without harming him, and prevents him from going to the hospital wing or any other place in the night,” he answered, walking towards the exit and opening up the cloak, “Now come in, and don’t move too much. There is only so much space in here, and you are as tall as a hippogriff.”

“You are just as tall as me,” Ron scowled at him as they huddled closer, slowly walking down the steps. At this hour, only a few seniors were still in the common room, a couple of them drinking beers while the rest chatted and did something or the other, “Make some space, will you? I am walking on my knees here!”

“Yeah, yeah, have your space,” Neville clicked his tongue, casting a silencing and smell-cloaking spell at them both, before he smirked at him in the firelight, “and I am taller than you, just a little bit.”

“Git.”

Ducking past a dancing couple, Neville and Ron made their way out of the door, and Ron barely suppressed his chuckle at the bewildered faces the Fat Lady made when no one came out of the open doors. “Imagine the pranks we can pull with this thing,” he whispered once they were well past any listeners, shuffling along the cold floor and keeping an eye out for prefects and Filch. And that damned ca—oh, right, “Bloody hell, if it weren’t for the students, I would have thanked whoever turned that cat to stone.”

“Agreed,” he breathed out, flicking his wand ahead of him and sending out a pulse of crimson magic unseen to all but him. Two greyish-red figures lit up past the wall, and Neville grabbed Ron’s shoulder, shushing him quietly as he moved them to the side. While the cloak had never failed him, and he had applied a silencing charm for good measure, one could never be too sure with these things, especially with Ron’s penchant for loud outbursts at anything that even remotely excited him, “Two prefects.”

“You sure the cloak will hide us?”

“It won’t if you keep shouting in my ears,” he shot back, “and you hid in it fine last year, what’s the problem now?”

“Well, invisibility cloaks lose their magic slowly, Mr. Genius,” Ron rolled hsi eyes and pinched the shimmering, transparent fabric before them, “Who knows how long these enchantments will last?”

Ears burning with embarrassment, Neville cleared his throat as the prefects came into view—Slytherins, he noted quietly, watching the silver snake embroidered on their robes shift in the torchlight.

“I am telling you Rookwood, Malfoy got fucked up by Longbottom. Twice,” the girl chuckled, and Neville straightened at his name being taken by the older girl, while Eveline Rookwood just shook her head at her words, “and in one day no less. Oh, you should have seen it, he looked like a ferret that got its balls kicked in. Probably did with how mad Longobtom looked when he threw that bludgeoner.”

“You look awfully happy about your junior getting his ‘balls kicked’,” Eveline remarked drily, flicking her wand towards the cupboard directly to their left, and Neville and Ron almost jumped as a short scream echoed out of it, sound sof cloth tearing and bodies hitting the floor coming from teh shaking furniture. Continuing as if nothing had happened, the sixth year sighed and shook her head, “What happened to house solidarity?”

“It died when Malfoy senior and my dear Aunt and Uncle decided to upend our inheritance.”

“Ouch…again.”

“Yeah, whatever, Rookwood.”

“Damn, guess you are liked by Slytherins too, oh vanquisher of ferrets,” Ron laughed as Rookwood and Carrow both disappeared into the distance, their voices fading away into silence, “You didnt tell me you cursed him today.”

“It…happened,” he muttered, remembering the moment from the morning before, shoving it to the back of his thoughts. “Let's move. We have wasted enough time.”

Thankfully, no other prefects interrupted their walk to the gates of the castle and after confirming that no one was around them, Neville removed the cloak and stashed it into hsi pocket, and they swiftly ran towards Hagrid’s hut. Thankfully, the groundskeeper had not yet gone to sleep, as they could hear him swearing and cursing as loudly as a dragon from dozens of feet away, and Neville resolutely ignored Ron’s judging look while walking up the steps to the door.

“Hagrid,” he called out, rapping his knuckles on the dried wood, hearing the curses inside quiet down as heavy steps shuffled forward the door, “Open the door, it's Neville and Ron!”

“What in the blazes are ye two doin’ here,” the giant wizard growled, wrenching the door open and glaring down at them, before his eyes moved over the meadows and the castle, “You are not going into the forest, are ya?”

“We need to talk, about the night when four students died the last time the Chamber was opened,” he spoke, quickly moving into the hut, Ron following him a moment later as Hagrid just blinked dumbly, turning around slowly and closing the door. 

“What do ye mean we need to talk?” the wizard narrowed his eyes at them both, crossing his massive arms over his chest and nodding at the little, rickety chairs to the side, “I am already havin’ a bad day, mind ye. Dunno about entertainin’ little brats twiddling around in the night when you are supposed to be in yer beds. The Chamber is none of yer business, leave it to the Headmaster!”

“Yes well, that hasn’t worked out well enough so far,” he took a deep breath, barely controlling the irritation that yearned to burst out of his throat. Clenching his fist in the pocket of his robes, Neville looked up at Haggrid and nodded in the direction of the castle, “You were there the night the fiasco finally ended all those years ago. Tell me, what happened then? You must have some idea of who the real culprit is. Who is parading himself around as the Heir of Slytherin and attacking muggleborns and Half-Bloods?”

“I told y-”

“We don’t want to hear excuses Hagrid,” Ron frowned, cutting the wizard off as he looked him in the eyes, “Don’t you consider Hermione a friend? She is petrified in that hospital wing, and no one can cure her. If we know who the Heir of Slytherin is, maybe we can do something that you guys could not? Last year, too, you doubted our words, and look where that got us—the Dark Lord almost came back.”

“That’s no excuse,” he shook his head, shaggy beard swaying with the motion as his giant hound came to their side, and Ron absently scratched the canine’s head, “Get back to yer beds, adn cleave this to the adults. It is just some kid playing a nasty joke, I tell ye both, it can’t be the Heir of Slytherin. Dumbledore would have known if You-Kn-”

“You-Know-Who?!” Ron jumped to his feet, his eyes wide as he unknowingly stepped on Fang’s tail, making the beast yowl and slink away in pain. But Neville barely paid it any mind, too busy comprehending the meaning of Hagrid’s admission.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled to himself, looking mighty worried and ashamed all of a sudden…but yet, all Neville could feel was the familiar shock and dread settle into the pit of his stomach. Just how was the Dark Lord back in Hogwarts? Was he once again possessing someone like he had done to Quirrell?

“I thought the Dark Lord hadn’t studied in Hogwarts?!” Ron questioned, breaking him out of his thoughts, and Neville looked at Hagrid, the wizard looking anywhere but them as guilt shone on his face.

“He did, under an alias,” Neville muttered, shaken to his core as he mentally ran through everything the world knew about Lord Voldemort, “But how has he come back to the castle this year? Dumbledore wouldn’t let him possess someone else again, and no Unicorns are being harmed in the forest.”

“That’s why ye kids have no business playing aurors,” Hagrid frowned and moved into his kitchen, stirring a steaming cauldron before sitting down on his sofa, the pegs groaning against the weight and breaking through the silence that was now filling the hut. Sighing heavily, he looked at them sadly, grief and understanding both coloring his gaze, “Look, I know it's tough. But this…this is far worse than a few traps set by teachers. Children died the last time the Chamber was opened, and even Dumbledore struggled to stop this madness. Return to yer beds, and forget about this, ye hear me?”

“Tell me where I can find Tom Riddle,” he asked after a beat of silence, remembering the past Head Boy who had caught Hagrid with some creatures, and had been rewarded for it handsomely, “Maybe he can tell me something you won’t.”

“Riddle? What do you want with him of all people?” Hagrid blinked at the words and frowned heavily, shaking his head in refusal of his question. But Neville didn’t let up, staring quietly into his eyes, willing him to understand the silent condemnation and anger in his thoughts. He felt something bubble inside him at Hagrid’s defensiveness, desiring to just get his answers and lea- “he died, Neville. In a battle with Grindelwald’s forces back in the war.”

For a moment, all three of them sat in stunned silence.

Then, from somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a sound rose—low and rattling, like stone scraping against stone. Chittering and cold, it pierced through the silence like wintery winds freezing his bones, and beneath the table, Neville watched Fang curl up in a still, fearful bundle of shivering nerves. Ron too, was looking in the forest’s direction with naked fear on his face, and before him, Hagrid paled two shades lighter within moments. 

“Get back to the castle. Now.”

Neville didn’t need to be told twice. Not with how shit scared the gaint groundkeeper—someone who had kept a pet dragon for weeks—looked. But as he stepped outside and wrapped the cloak around him and Ron, he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had just woken up in the Forbidden Forest.

And it was watching them.