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Act II - The Warlock of Hogwarts
Chapter 19 - Secrets Of The Chamber
It was pitch dark.
Correction. It was pitch dark, and oddly enough, they could see things perfectly.
It reminded him of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder Sirius had shown him during the summer. Apparently the Marauders used it a lot to get away with their pranks whenever any of the Prefects were on their trail, and Sirius continued using it even as a Hit-wizard whenever he needed to escape or needed a distraction. Given the kind of trouble he attracted, Sirius had insisted he carry a pouch full of it with him at all times. He had also taught him an obscure charm that allowed him to see through the powder as if it wasn't there at all.
In seconds, he had crossed the area and was standing next to Daphne, who was looking down at a vast chasm engulfed in the strange darkness.
"Eh, I think we should walk away. Maybe this used to be the basilisk's lair. Maybe there are other entrances around?"
"No," said Daphne, surprising him with the resoluteness in her voice. "This is the right place."
"And how do you know?"
"Because of that."
She pointed at her feet. Or rather, the slab right in front of her feet. On it, was inscribed something in latin.
"To Ascend to the Highest Light, One must willingly fall to the Down Below." she translated, her words echoing in the hollow space.
Then all was quiet.
"What's Down Below?" Harry asked.
Daphne scrunched her face. "In the olden days, they believed that the netherworld or the underworld lay beneath the earthly terrain. Like Hades and his realm, or Irkalla if you consider the Sumerian god-kings. It was where souls went after they died and where demons dwelt."
"That's not creepy at all," Harry deadpanned. 'Still wanna go ahead?"
"You don't?"
Muttering about crazy women, he took a step forward and pointed his wand downward at the seemingly endless chasm.
"LUMOS MAXIMA!"
A burst of dazzling white erupted out of his wand and descended down the chasm. It went lower and lower until the only thing they could see was a single point of white amidst a sea of darkness.
"Huh, that's Down Below alright." He turned to her. "How good are you with Arresto Momentum?"
"I can cast it," Daphne shrugged. "Though, we really need a way to know exactly when to slow down during the fall," said Daphne. "Maybe we can constantly cast Lumos while falling down?"
"I'm supposed to be the Gryffindor, you know."
"You get lost in the silliest of things." She waved him off dismissively. "Seriously, any other ideas? I know my idea sounds risky but I don't know anything else that could help."
How about not going in at all? He wondered. Surely Daphne wouldn't continue her journey without him? He had promised Sirius not to get into trouble this year, but he had never expected that his Slytherin fiance would turn out more adventurous than he was.
Adventurous? Scoffed a part of him that sounded suspiciously like Fleur. You're like a stupid puppy that just keeps falling into trouble.
For a second there, he thought about walking away. Some part of him wondered what the Bahamas were like this time of the year. For a minute, it seemed like an awesome idea to go find out.
But only for a second.
Then he swallowed, and gripped his wand tightly, while his left hand went into his pocket.
"I have a better idea."
β¦
β¦
β¦
Thirty minutes later, Daphne was staring at him with a dry expression.
"Do you expect me to ride on that behind you?"
Harry looked at his beloved Thunderbolt, and shook his head. "You don't have to. I can always pull you down by⦠well, the express route."
Daphne cursed under her breath, and said, "Scoot."
She sat behind him, her arms loosely around his chest.
"Hold tight," He said with a teasing tone before he suddenly left the ground, casting another lighting charm. The brilliant orb of light sunk into the darkness, and Harry swooped downwards at full-speed, eliciting a shocked scream from her, feeling his arms tighten around his chest, stiffening. Luckily, she was a Quidditch player, so it didn't take her long to get used to the broom's acceleration, not to mention his crazy manoeuvres, and she was laughing alongside him in no time.
The Thunderbolt boasted an acceleration of two hundred miles an hour in ten seconds, a nearly thirty percent improvement over the firebolt. It took them roughly eight minutes to reach the bottom. Granted, he hadn't gone full speed, but the pit was terrifyingly deep. There were small indents on the way down that he could only describe as rest areas. Perhaps in Salazar's time brooms were uncommon and this was meant to be descended through magic.
The clearly marked areas, the presence of occasional, symmetric ledges, but the lack of clear wards other than parseltongue to keep intruders out painted this not as a zone which was forbidden to enter but a test, limited to those who could speak the tongue of snakes.
"Ugh," Daphne said as the water splashed around them, looking at her shoes distastefully. The Down Below, as it turned out, was an empty corridor, flooded with what could only be water from the lake.
"Just so you know," he said. "That was way better than jumping off the cliff. Wonder if Joshua knows his little girl was missorted to Slytherin."
"Oh stop being a spoilsport, Potter. You're enjoying this as much as I am."
"Please, trouble finds me. I don't actually go out looking for it."
"No, you prefer fighting basilisks and doing crazy Quidditch stunts."
"Says the girl who jumped to the Down-Below willingly in a party dress and sandals."
"The sandals are actually magically reinforced," she said calmly. "In case I need to plant them on anyone's back for being an annoying arse. And seriously, you can't tell me you're not excited to see what's down here?"
"Down here had a massive basilisk that could swallow me whole. I don't even want to know what other monsters this place is hiding."
"Well, you promised Myrtle to check for the monsters, right? If there's really anything down here, we need to seal it off and forget about this place."
"Exactly. And then no one remembers your party dress and sandals."
By then, they had reached the large door at the end of the tunnel. Both of them knew why they were giving each other a hard time. There was nothing mean-spirited about it.
They were both scared.
After a cursory scan, they were fairly certain that the door wasn't cursed. Both of them tried all the unlocking charms they knew but none of them had any effect whatsoever. Using his Death-powers to cancel the enchantment was a possibility but before that, he wanted to try something else.
He glanced at Daphne, who had her wand poised and ready, a shield charm on her lips.
"Open," He hissed.
The doors didn't so much as open, as they slid back into the wall on either side. And with that, came a hissing noise as air exploded out of it, revealing a brightly illuminated chamber on the other side. And that wasn't the only thing. There was power there. The energy within the chamber was palpable, and the hairs on his arms began to stand up. Whatever was stored in this place, it was powerful beyond measure. Much like the wards of Grimmauld Place, whatever that was being stored here must have been big to generate this much ambient energy simply from being bypassed. He had no doubt that should things go wrong, they'd need a bloodhound, an Ouija board, a forensic expert, and a small army of elves just to find what was left of leashed violence in the air had a strangely sentient feel, like they were all watching him.
He took a step forward.
And stared.
For what lay on the other side wasβ¦. Mind-boggling.
It was a vast cathedral. Blinding white light shone from above, inundating the expanse beneath with its radiance. The floor was exquisitely crafted out of a pure white rock, which with the shadowy darkness clinging to the walls, added a rich contrast to the Chamber. He watched in awe at the massive stone shelves that arose out of the stone floor, reminding him of that show he had once watched about the Amazonian rainforests on television, with vines arising out of the forest floor and climbing upwards past the canopy to reach the light.
And on the shelves were books.
Hundreds of them. Thousands of them.
"Iβ¦" murmured Daphne. "Am I dreaming?"
Harry chuckled. He couldn't blame her. He had been to the insides of the Black library once. While not as vast as the Hogwarts library, it was easier to get lost in the dark alleyways and rows of thick, old bound tomes.
It had nothing on this.
Hell, Hogwarts Library had nothing on this.
Harry looked at Daphne, who stood there, utterly enthralled. She took a single step, and then another and then one more, her eyes wide, trying to see everything all at once. He noticed the strange circles drawn on the ground, with strange inscriptions that looked like they were carved out of gold. The moment Daphne was about to step on one of them, he grabbed her hand and yanked her back, pulling her out of her trance.
"...?"
He shook his head, and gestured pointedly at the floor.
Daphne swallowed, and nodded gratefully.
"What do you think this place is?"
"Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets," whispered Daphne in reverence. "Hufflepuff's memoirs claimed that Slytherin was a hoarder of knowledge, and often went on expeditions. There was a rumour about Slytherin finding the Lost Secrets of the Revenant, and the hidden collection of the Library of Alexandria, but this⦠this is beyond anything I've ever imagined."
Harry decided never to tell Hermione about this place. Knowing her, she'd probably unearth every single rock protecting the Chamber to get her hands on this place. Honestly, he could only wonder why Tom Riddle had left these books intact. Had he been so arrogant enough as to imagine that no other parselmouth would ever be intelligent enough to find the Chamber?
He looked back at the massive door. It wasn't too difficult to imagine a young Tom Riddle, a muggleborn ostracised by his own classmates in Slytherin House, finding the Chamber and walking into this very place. He could imagine the awe in the boy's eyes, and the promise of potential that the Chamber had given him. No doubt the origins of the Dark Lord Voldemort lay in this very room.
Something about it just felt odd. Jumping to the Down-Below where Demons dwelt, only to land in stagnant water? And now this white floor with gold inscriptions and a library older and larger than anything he had ever seen? And that energy, that sheer power filling up the Chamber; something told him that this place had more to do than be a reservoir for old books.
"This place feels more than just a library with old books, Daphne," he murmured. "It feels too clean, too bright, almost like aβ¦"
"Temple?"
He didn't look at her, but found her description oddly apt.
"Sort of."
"And with due reason."
He perked up at her words, and followed her gaze andβ¦
Stared.
And stared.
At the most magnificent piece of architecture in the Chamber.
It arose from the ground, horizontal bands of pure metal, grooved and sculptured with exquisite craftsmanship, twisting its way in an upward spiral, forming a dais. The bands were thick, each of them easily a foot tall, coiling around itself like a serpent, and from the apex arose a mighty serpentine form, erect, its top bifurcated into seven heads, each of them looking in different directions, hoods flared and emerald eyes that saw through his soul.
It was the gigantic edifice of a runespoor.
A seven-headed runespoor.
He stared at it, awed, caught in its life-like hypnotic gaze, the emerald eyes looking at him like they knew all his secrets. Like they were judging him. Harry felt like an outsider trespassing in hallowed grounds, and an urge to fall down and repent arose in him.
. "What is that?" Daphne was staring at it in awe.?"
Surprisingly, Harry had the answer. "It's called Ananta-shesha. That Which Remains in the End."
He looked at her. "I read about it when looking for names for Hecate in ancient mythology. It fits perfectly. The Down-Below, the white floors, the Light, thisβ¦" he pointed at the edifice.
"Uh, a little detail please?"
He took a step back. "It's a primordial being of Creation in ancient Hindu mythology. A runespoor with seven heads. It resided in the Underworld, beneath the ocean floors with other serpents, floating in an ocean of milk," he glanced down at the white floor, and then gazed up, "and the light of Creation shining from above."
"You're telling me that Salazar Slytherin tried to imitate a primordial deity's abode?" Daphne asked.
He shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know. Ancient India has a lot of snake-themed legends. I was actually planning on making a visit sometime in the future, you know, when things are better."
"Sounds interesting."
Harry glanced back at the statue. "It said that when Ananta-shesha uncoils, time moves forward, and creation takes place. And when it coils back, creation ceases to exist."
Daphne arched an eyebrow. "That's a lot of flowery talk and metaphor. I mean, its' coiled right now, and Creation is still here."
He shrugged again, his eyes never leaving the edifice. Daphne's words stuck out to him. Why would Salazar Slytherin, descendant of the Gaunts, dedicate his hallowed Chamber to a primordial serpent deity of a religion followed several thousand miles away? Did it have something to do with being a parselmouth? Did Salazar, born bereft of the Gaunt Family Magic, believe that the snake animagi, the founding fathers of House Gaunt, gained the Family Magic by studying the esoteric mythology of ancient Hinduism? Was this shrine his attempt to recreate that?
Too much speculation.
And yet, not entirely without its merits.
He took a step forward and hissed.
"Reveal your secrets."
Nothing.
Oh well, it wouldn't exactly be a sacred shrine if it was callously protected now, could it? Stillβ¦
Harry thought back to how Riddle had addressed Slytherin's statue. Both belonged to ancient beings, and if speaking to the former allowed them entry, then perhaps addressing the latter could cause something?
"Ananta-Shesha," he hissed.
Daphne screamed as the entire edifice sprang to life. All seven heads shifted around, their collective hissing sounding less like a language and more like a rumbling engine as it resonated across the entire chamber. The stone behemoth extended itself to its greatest height, the seven heads covering the greatest distance from each other, forming a large semi-circular hood, their emerald eyes glowing with eldritch power as they regarded him menacingly.
Yeah, Harry thought. That definitely did it.
And if that wasn't enough, the screaming, malevolent energy from before was back with a vengeance. The power within felt wrong, some kind of horrible strain, a pressure so pervasive that it made him want to throw up. At the same time, something about it made the wand in his hand go cold as ice.
And then in a multitude of hisses that sounded less like a voice and more like a rumbling engine, it addressed him with a single word.
"TRESPASSER."
"Harry?" Daphne asked in a low voice, her wand held shakily in front of her. The serpent head on the extreme left twisted its gaze to stare down at her, and Daphne let out a yelp.
"Put your wand away," he whispered and took a step ahead.
"Forgive me, my name is Harry Potter and I came looking for this Chamber to see what was contained within."
The behemoth regarded him silently.
Bringing his Gryffindor courage to the surface, he took another step. "They say that Salazar Slytherin created this Chamber, storing a horror within to rid the school off the mugβ mudbloods."
The hissing rose. Daphne grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back but he took a chance.
"Three years ago, someone unleashed a basilisk from this chamber. It nearly killed the school students."
The hissing reached a crescendo.
"I came down to the outer chamber, and killed the basilisk. It's blood now flows in me."
And just like that, the hissing slowed down to a halt, as it regarded him speculatively.
"I came down here to see if there were any other monsters around. And we found this place and, erm, you."
The serpent watched him. There was something intense about its eyes.
Then it spoke again.
"MEMORY."
Harry frowned. "Excuse me?"
"THIS PLACE," it asserted. "MEMORY."
Harry assumed that the snake behemoth wouldn't exactly be able to converse in standard language, what with being an enchanted sculpture. Still, the fact that it had a consciousness and capable of communicating back was more than what he had expected.
"Harry?" Daphne asked, her voice trembling.
"What?" He asked, feeling an annoyance rising within. "I'm just trying to β"
Then he realised it. Daphne was shaking. Literally, shaking. "Don't you feel it? This place is⦠dangerous. That thing is dangerous. Let's go back. Let's just go back right now."
He frowned. That was incredibly odd. "Daphne, nothing will happen. I'm just trying to know what it knows about this place. It isn't going to attack us."
"No," she trembled. "It won't attack you. It's attacking me."
That clicked.
He turned to the edifice. "She's with me. Please do not attack her."
It didn't care.
"She's with me," he repeated with a finality.
The thrumming tension in the room didn't change in the slightest. It went on with a kind of glacial inevitability that didn't give two shakes for the desires of who or what stood there. That said, the violence in the air now felt restrained, like a chained beast. Harry got the feeling that nice simply wasn't in its vocabulary. He'd probably have to be satisfied with it refraining from violence.
"Better?" He asked Daphne.
She gratefully nodded but said nothing.
He regarded the behemoth again. Requests did not seem to phase through it, but heavy assertion and commands did. It reminded him of the time when he had commanded the snake Draco had conjured back in second year. Even Hecate, for all its docile nature, only truly listened to him when he asserted something in a firm voice, as if exerting a silent authority upon its kind.
"You said this place has Memory. Memory of what?"
"CONTAINMENT."
Another doozy. "Of what?"
"MAGIC."
Memory of containing magic? What was that supposed to mean? He regarded the stone shelves.
"Wait. You mean the books?"
That had to be it. What was a book other than the written memory of the author, containing his or her knowledge of magic within its pages?
The serpent just watched him, saying nothing.
"Bugger this is hard," he grumbled. "You mean this place is a library? A collection of books of magic?"
Slowly, tentatively, a single snake shook its head. The rest of them were simply looking at the floor.
Huh.
"If not the books, then what?"
"THE WORST."
Harry was beginning to feel exasperated. "Containment of the worst kind of magic? Is that what you're saying is stored in the books?"
Another shake.
Damn it.
"Uh, Harry?" Daphne said in a small voice. "Maybe you should come look at this."
He glanced at her, and found her crouching on the floor, looking at the golden inscriptions. On closer notice, he realised that the inscriptions were carved in curve bands, each of them separated by strange markings and then continuing into another band, forming a large circle, with the edifice falling within its periphery. He could see a different set of bands moving in a different direction, forming yet another circle, this one smaller than the first, intersecting it exactly where the stone behemoth lay.
He crouched down, and took careful note of one of the bands. At closer look, he realised that they weren't actually inscriptions, but hieroglyphs, or rather, a single hieroglyph repeated in sets of three. And this one suspiciously reminded him of aβ¦
"Is that a cat?"
"Not a cat, a kneazle," said Daphne, now standing up and looking around, searching for something excitedly. "Look at the others."
Harry quickly followed, and checked the next four hieroglyphs. An eagle or falcon, either of them, a bison, a scorpion and aβ¦
He froze.
It looked like a cat, a large cat. But Harry knew better. For he had seen the very hieroglyph almost every single day since the summer.
On his finger.
"Jaguar."
He looked at Daphne, and found a blazing look on hers.
"Jaguar. Black family totem," he said.
"Kneazle for House Burke, Eagle for House Ravenclaw, Scorpion for House Selwyn andβ¦"
"Bison," Harry breathed, "for House Greengrass."
"They are all family totems, Harry. I counted. Twenty-eight of them."
Harry staggered, and looked around. He spotted a third circle forming on the floor. Just like before, all three of them intersected at one single location, where the serpent statue arose. Three circles intersecting together. He knew what it meant.
He had worn that symbol during his trial. Right after he had claimed his Lordship.
"You don't mean β"
"Three intersecting circles, Harry," said Daphne, her voice short of breath. "The symbol of the Wizengamot. This, all of this, it's the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
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