Harry Evans Chapter 164: An unlikely friendship is as valuable as a hundred acquantincesiships (I don't know how to write this word)

The bones crunched beneath their feet as they entered the tunnel leading to the chamber once again.

“Stay alert,” Snape said seriously. “We don’t know if whoever was controlling the basilisk the last time we were here is still around.”

“Move in a group,” Harry confirmed as they approached the large iron gate.

“What will happen to this place after we’re done?” Neville asked curiously.

“I’ll tell the headmaster to lock it up, blocking its access to the school. There might be other entrances, but this one will become defunct,” Snape explained. “He left it open for one extra day just for us, since we did the favour of discovering the chamber and killing the monster.”

Neville nodded resolutely, hissing at the iron gate to open it wide.

They entered cautiously, both Severus and Harry on the lookout for any potential ambushes. Their senses were extended to their maximum, and the incantation homenum revelio flowed from their lips.

“Clear,” Snape said after a minute of walking around the stone platform and the dead basilisk.

“Clear,” Harry reaffirmed, shared a look with the older man and dropped his guard a little.

It was very hard to get the drop on a competent wizard on the lookout in the wizarding world. Perhaps the only tool in Britain that truly allowed such was the invisibility cloak currently stuffed haphazardly in Neville’s pocket.

“Explore first, collect later,” Harry said, nodding at the basilisk.

“Agreed,” Snape replied, after which the two turned to Neville, who nodded seriously and started doing the rounds while hissing out as many parseltongue phrases as he could think of.

Thankfully, the boy was good at it, having practised with Harry back when they’d still been looking for an alternative entrance to the chamber by desperately talking to every snake-themed and barren wall on the ground floor of the castle.

Despite Neville’s professionalism, however, they only managed to discover two secret entrances and the pipes which the basilisk must have been using to move around the castle.

“One extra space inside Salazar’s mouth and one extra space hidden behind the snake statue,” Harry commented as he thought out loud and paced.

“I did feel something off with those two places even before they were opened, not that I could have guessed what was up with them or how to open them,” he said with furrowed brows.

“Voldemort obviously discovered the basilisk’s layer,” Snape remarked, but looked critically at the human-sized hole behind the snake statue. “The question is if he discovered the hole behind the statue.”

“Shouldn’t he have?” Neville piped up, before stuttering when the older two wizards turned to look at him. “I mean, he was the heir of Slytherin, no?”

“Quite frankly,” Snape admitted. “I didn’t sense it. Now I won’t say that my perception of magic is on par with Voldemort, but…”

“It is definitely superior to whatever Voldemort had when he was a teenager, and perhaps even to what he had available now in his diminished form.” Harry paused, mindful of Neville. “From whatever method he used to stay alive so long.”

Snape nodded. “The hole might lead somewhere novel, the basilisk’s layer probably does not.”

“Verify,” Harry said briefly.

The DADA professor nodded and twirled his wand in a circle, manifesting a small floating eye in his hand. It was shining pure gold, with a silver iris. The man then covered one of his eyes while leading the eyeball to float towards the mouth of the large statue of Slytherin.

The eye flew inside the open mouth before returning five minutes or so later, during the entirety of which Harry and Neville waited with baited breath.

“Nothing,” Snape announced as the eye dissipated, and he uncovered his eye to cross his arms. “It was a surprisingly small space, warded heavily with magic leaning towards the sleeping and the cold.”

“A hibernation chamber,” Harry said.

Snape nodded. “Indeed. Give me a minute, then I can repeat the spell for the hole.”

“Slytherin was a powerful wizard, right?” Neville asked curiously.

‘Of course he was, he was also a cunt,’ the hat muttered quietly in Harry’s head.

Harry paused in his step, interrupting his facing. ‘Is that why the password was cunt?’ he asked.

The hat simply laughed.

“Obviously he was,” Snape said drolly, answering Neville’s question. “A mediocre one would have hardly managed to create a chamber that hid itself from so many generations of headmasters and professors looking for it. Nor would they have the capacity to breed a basilisk of all things.”

“I wonder if we’ll find his portrait; he’d probably be mad you killed his snake,” Neville mused out loud.

Snape snorted. “Portraits are a relatively new invention; he wouldn’t have been alive to have one painted,” he chastised.

Harry, meanwhile, was struck as if by a fist to the jaw.

A portrait. 

Hadn’t he been needing a rudimentary intelligence for his book project?

Magical portraits could be quite talkative… There were a bunch of them in the headmaster’s office. Hadn’t one of the portraits, Phineas Black, even acted as a spy? That meant portraits could follow orders, or had their own motives, could move between canvases, reason, and retain information.

His mind spun, and he categorised that information as a must research once they were done with the chamber. Perhaps a ritual wouldn’t be necessary after all, perhaps a portrait of him would be able to categorise the information in the book and present it to him in a meaningful way?

“I’m ready,” Snape suddenly said, once again summoning the golden eye and sending it to explore the dark doorway behind the statue, although it was certainly more of a way and less of a door.

A few minutes passed again before the man confirmed. “A long corridor leading into what seems like a study,” he said excitedly, urging the two students to follow as he entered the hole, wand out and shining.

Harry and Neville followed into the corridor, which was made out of what seemed to be a type of hardened clay, unlike the bricks of the main room.

They walked for what felt like hours in the constrained space, but most likely it was only 30 seconds; then they emerged into a relatively large-looking circular room with two rows of bookshelves, a desk, a chair and most concerningly, an empty iron cage.

“All dilapidated,” Harry complained, having immediately joined Snape at the bookshelf to look at the spines of the rotten books Slythering had left behind.

A crash resounded from behind, causing both wizards to spin around and look at the sheepish Neville, who was rubbing his head awkwardly in front of the desk, which was now less desk and more wooden debris on the floor.

“I didn’t even touch it,” Neville complained, one hand on his head and one on his wand, which was glowing with a lumos. “I just leaned over it slightly to read the message on the desk.”

“A message?” Snape asked with furrowed brows as he stepped over, looking around. “I didn’t see any parchment earlier.”

“There’s no parchment,” Neville said with a shake of his head. “It’s scratched directly on top of the wood,” he explained, pointing at the broken mess. Thankfully, it had primarily been the legs and compartments which had broken, not the top.

The problem was that Harry didn’t see a message. Just an old desktop with the usual wear and tear.

“I don’t see a message,” Snape said with furrowed brows.

“It’s right here,” Neville insisted, poking his glowing wand at some of the seemingly random wavy scratches in the wood. Then, he started randomly hissing with narrowed eyes as if that explained anything.

“You’re speaking parseltongue, Neville,” Harry suddenly said, interrupting the boy who jumped in place to stare at him, seemingly surprised.

“The scratches are not random enough,” Snape muttered thoughtfully as he analysed the desk. “Does Parseltongue have a written form, or did Slytherin create one?” He shook his head and looked at the desk with a complicated look. “Such a small detail to miss,” he said with a sigh.

“Can you translate, Neville?” Harry asked.

The boy nodded, scrunched his eyes and started speaking slowly.

“Descendant, if you were forced here under duress, simply pretend that there is no message.” Neville paused briefly before continuing. “If you are alone, then rejoice, for you have looked underneath the underneath and found my study, or what is left of it. Leave behind whatever lies have been dripped in your ear and listen to my tale.”

Hogwarts was created as a reaction to the rampant hate and fundamentalism of the two-legged pigs we wizards are forced to share a visual resemblance with. They try to kill us, and in doing so kill their sons, their daughters, their neighbours. A muggle accuses the woman who withheld her favour and gave it to another, so that nobody can possess what he could not obtain. They use accusations as a way to kill the children of families they do not like, so as to deplete the workforce of their competitors. So much death and so much hate. For what? For stupidity. We created a safe space for all, even the unfortunate newborns cursed with a foul inheritance, and what do they do? They bring their filthy ideas to our school and complain when we call their parents what they are, mere animals in human skin.”

One day, they will betray us, side with their heritage. This has become clear to me after interacting with these so-called students.”

The other three founders do not listen; they instead prefer to drown in their sentimentality. I left, knowing not to linger where I am not welcome, although I did leave behind a guardian to defend the castle. Muggles should have no protection against a basilisk, its eyes too deadly, its hide too tough to break without magic force. Command the basilisk if necessary, leave it if it is not. It has the ability to distinguish bloodlines, so worry not that it will harm anyone innocent.”

As you have noticed, I took everything valuable from the chamber; after all, I knew I was leaving. However, I did leave behind a copy of my grimoire as a safeguard if my bloodline were ever to be persecuted to the point of having to start anew. Remember, it is always better to prepare too much than too little and when in doubt, look to the stars to guide you.”

Neville stopped, coughed into his hand and stared at the desk. “That’s it,” he said with furrowed brows. 

‘Does that sound like Slytherin?’ Harry asked about the hat on his head.

‘Sounds about right,’ Chanithachuah replied. ‘He was trying to sound a bit dignified for his descendants, but that was definitely his voice.’

“The stars?” Snape meanwhile, questioned out loud.

“Look up,” Harry said with a sigh and looked up at the clay ceiling of the large circular study. It was covered in what at first glance looked like tiny scratches, but on second glance, now knowing that parselscript was apparently a thing, it was clearly a whole Sonic fanfiction. “The bookshelf was a decoy,” Harry said, idly flicking his finger and sending out a telekinetic probe which promptly caused the thing to collapse, all the old books turning to dust on impact.

“Scourgify,” Harry cast, making the entire mess disappear. “Can you read it, Neville?” he asked, but the boy was already looking at the ceiling with squinted eyes and a pale face.

“This,” the boy muttered breathlessly. “This explains how to create a basilisk, ritual sacrifice,” he gulped. “How much blood!?” he exclaimed nervously.

“It’s doubtlessly a historical artefact of incredible significance,” Snape decided. “You’ll need to translate it later.”

“I’m not translating that!” Neville exclaimed with wide eyes.

“To defeat the dark arts, you must first understand them,” Snape retorted.

“He’s right,” Harry said. “We should translate this just to figure out if he actually says something useful. Just because you read about a certain type of magic doesn’t mean you’ll use it. Think about it, our biggest enemy at the moment is Voldemort, a descendant of Slytherin. We need every advantage we can get.”

“But-” Neville said, but Harry interrupted him.

“Ask Dumbledore if you want, he’ll definitely agree. Information is power, and there are many insights Slytherin might have had that could be useful.”

“Not here,” Neville said stubbornly.

“I agree,” Harry replied, looking at the empty cage, the last unbroken structure in the study. “This place gives me the creeps.” He then pulled out the Book of Eibon from inside his robe, having gotten used to carrying it wherever he went. Containing all the books in the Hogwarts library, it was essentially an encyclopaedia, if an unwieldy one.

Not knowing if it would work, he tapped the book against the wall, touching the parselscript.

A moment later, the entire content of the wall was in his book. “I copied it,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “Let’s go harvest the basilisk. This place gives me the creeps…” 

The trio of wizards left behind Slytherin’s secret study. Back in the main hall, Snape started carefully deconstructing the basilisk from top to bottom.

For lack of anything to do, Harry enchanted a conjured quill for Neville and had him dictate the translation of Slytherin’s grimoire out loud.

It was an interesting few hours watching the professor professionally butcher and take apart the basilisk, isolating its eyes, its venomous fangs and its skin. Even the bones weren’t spared, being shredded from the meat and exposed to the cold air from the chamber.

“That’s it,” Neville suddenly said after Snape had finished stacking the ingredients on top of each other and conjuring a large wooden board to levitate them on.

“Short grimoire,” Harry commented, sharing a meaningful look with Snape.

Just because they’d fought the dark lord with Neville did not mean that their values necessarily aligned fully. After all, Snape and Harry practised and were even creating the type of magic that Neville, or rather, his father, James Potter, would call dark magic.

Having Neville read out the grimoire to two wizards with an incredibly organised mind basically revealed all the relevant information without giving the boy the opportunity to censor any of it because he deemed it too dark.

“Suffice to say, I would suggest not sharing with many people that you now know how to create a basilisk,” Snape said to the pale boy whose worldview had seemingly received a rather hefty shake-up.

“At least we know Voldemort never found the study,” Harry said. “He wouldn’t have been able to hold back from creating an army of basilisks, the amount of necessary sacrifices be damned.”

“The rituals, however, they are problematic,” Snape muttered as the trio started making their way to the exit. “I didn’t even know there were so many modifications one could do to one’s own body. It certainly explains why Voldemort became looking less and less human as the war progressed.”

“It also explains why he was bat-shit insane,” Harry said, before tilting his head to look at the youngest wizard present. “Remember, Neville, dark magic always has a price. Even when sacrificing others, the cost you pay will be invisible, but all the greater for it.”

“I’m not planning on doing… any of that!” Neville exclaimed.

“I’m actually surprised about the enchantments and the wand lore,” Snape muttered excitedly. “Slytherin had an incredibly comprehensive view of enchantment and wand creation. I dare say that his theories on wand crafting would be revolutionary even for today.”

“Primarily because it's such a secret art, nobody is willing to make it public and thus progress it,” Harry mused. “Enchantment, meanwhile… While Slytherin was a master, enchanting objects is one of the most widely studied disciplines today. His theories have become obsolete, the only true contribution being his method of hiding enchantments from the magical senses.”

“Only useful in a highly magical environment such as Hogwarts, but at least now we know why everybody had such issues finding the entrance to the chamber,” Snape remarked as they came to the sharp drop leading up to the girls’ lavatory, where they started slowly transporting the snake parts upwards with a hastily conjured pulley system.

“I thought Slytherin was one of the greatest wizards in history,” Neville muttered confusedly. “But his grimoire… It was just dark rituals, enchantment, wand crafting and mind magic.”

“Hogwarts wasn’t just created to protect children; it was also created to lift the skill ceiling of the average wizard,” Harry said. “Before this school, you could only learn from however many masters you convinced to part with their knowledge, which, considering knowledge was power, was usually not many. Most magical innovations happened after Hogwarts because it finally brought together hundreds of wizards into an academic environment where they started innovating. I guess there’s a reason a truly legendary figure like Merlin could only emerge after the creation of systemic schooling.”

“I need to ask my dad about occlumency,” Neville muttered. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Probably in an ill-advised attempt to give you a childhood,” Harry remarked while Snape remained silent.

“I’m not a child!” Neville exclaimed angrily, like the 12-year-old he was.

“That poses an interesting question, actually,” Snape mused. “Potter will likely try to murder me when he finds out I let his son and a fourth-year student take them to fight a basilisk and the dark lord.”

“You’re leaving summer, right?” Harry asked.

Severus nodded, magically pulling on the rope and slowly tugging the basilisk skeleton up into the lavatory.

“What, why!?” Neville exclaimed, turning to look at the man. “You’re a great professor!”

Snape glowered at him. “I thought I was scary and demanding,” he said sarcastically, at which Neville blushed.

“It-it’s part of your charm?”

“Are you asking me or making a statement?” Snape asked dangerously with narrowed eyes.

Neville stood ram-rod straight, looking like he was going to salute. “It’s part of your charm, sir!” he shouted loudly.

Harry couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. His body hunched over as he clutched his stomach. “You two should really start touring as a comedy duo, I think there’s a market!” 

“Shut it, Evans!” Snape and Neville shouted at the same time, before looking at each other, and face-palming in perfect synchronicity.