Portended Prophecies by WiCeBa

Harry tiptoed around Snape’s Chambers.

Early, pale blue light drifted through thin, slanted windows near the ceiling, though it did little to brighten the room.

He worried about using any real light and waking Snape, but after nearly bumping into a shadowy cabinet and tripping over several fallen books, he gave up and cast the dimmest ‘Lumos’ he could. He felt sure he could move quietly enough to avoid any real trouble. He just needed to be careful. He wasn’t entirely sure how Snape would feel if he caught Harry awake, but then, he hadn’t intentionally woken up.

Besides, wandering Hogwarts after hours was different from snooping around Snape’s sitting room. One of them was strictly off limits and the other hadn’t been openly frowned upon.

Neither Ms Eileen nor Snape minded when Harry woke early in Germany, but that may have had something to do with how little trouble he could get up to. He hadn’t been very inclined to exploring Ms Eileen’s garden or the surrounding woods.

Snape’s Chambers felt similar enough to Ms Eileen’s house, which led Harry to feel as if he couldn’t get into too much trouble by searching for the book he’d taken from Sirius’s library.

Harry grimaced as he picked over a small stack of thick, leather bound books near Snape’s desk. None of them were remotely similar to the books they’d pulled from Sirius’s house. The odd thought that Snape may have charmed them all to display different titles flickered through his mind, though he couldn’t decide how likely that was.

Why would Snape charm the books in his own Chambers? Harry couldn’t imagine other Professors dropping by unannounced, nor did he think anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would sneak into his rooms.

Harry tilted his wand up and idly considered the spell Snape had taught Hermione over the summer.

Had it been ‘Specialis Revelio’?

Couldn’t ‘Accio’ work in this situation as well? Harry considered how terribly his morning would go if Snape locked the books into a cabinet and Harry’s spell brought them smashing against the glass.

He shuddered at how angry Snape may be if that was what he woke to.

Perhaps, if the book was on a shelf, it wouldn’t be quite as loud?

Harry shook his head and reminded himself of how terribly last night had already gone. His melt down had been mortifying. He dreaded ever reacting like that again, even if after the fact, he found himself feeling a fair bit lighter.

He felt as if he’d been wrung out, and doubted he could ever cry quite as much as he had again. He still needed to sort out how he felt about Snape’s reaction. Aunt Petunia had never walked Harry through why his behaviour had been wrong and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how he’d be if she had.

Maybe he’d have spent less time being miserable in his cupboard?

Harry froze as Snape made a soft sound and turned over.

An uncomfortable fear wound around his thoughts and he wondered suddenly if he was worried about Snape catching him and putting a stop to his search, or if he worried about Snape being disappointed in him for having stolen Sirius’s heirloom.

He didn’t have a grand amount of experience with adults being disappointed in him.

It wasn’t as if Snape told Harry not to read the heirloom though. He couldn’t remember why Sirius hadn’t wanted him to read it either, he just knew he’d wanted it. He now wondered if it had been Tom who wanted it, regardless, Harry had stolen it.

Could Tom make Harry want things? He’d made Harry want to hurt Umbridge last night.

It would be a struggle to convince Harry to do anything aside from read the book, though maybe that was Tom’s intention? Perhaps Tom wanted Harry to read, and while he read, he’d possess him, much like he had Ginny in their second year.

He shook his head once more and shoved his worries to the side.

Badgering himself while in the midst of snooping was a good way to get caught. He’d already decided to look for the book, so he ought to stop worrying and start actively searching.

“Specialis Revelio.” Harry whispered as he quietly rapped his wand over the stack of books.

A misty grey fog plumed from his wand, but nothing changed. He idly wondered if maybe one of the book’s pages flickered, but he changed his mind after paging through them.

He twisted on his heel and thought hard about the heirloom’s dark green cover and stained brittle pages.

“Accio.” He whispered with as gentle a wave as he could make.

Several books rattled from behind Snape’s desk with a muffled, dull noise making Harry whip around and blink through the darkness at Snape.

It didn’t look as if it’d woken him, so Harry quickly tiptoed toward the sound.

To his surprise, he realized the books had been charmed to display harmless titles. Harry found himself wondering once more why Snape would take the precaution. He picked through the selection as quietly and carefully as he could, whispering ‘specialis revelio’ as he searched and tried to ignore the slowly burning excitement building in his chest.

Harry wondered again if his inclination toward stealing the book had been his own prerogative, or if it had been Tom wanting it. He didn’t fancy considering himself as the one who’d wanted to read about gruesome spells.

Snape wasn’t sure if Harry had been possessed last night or not, nor was he sure who Harry’s memories belonged to, but Harry was near positive they were Tom’s.

His fingers slipped over a soft, dark cover and he smiled widely.

He whispered the charm to reveal the true title and found that the Latin escaped him again. It might’ve read, ‘Curses and the Body’, but Harry couldn’t be sure. The type of spells however, were unmistakable and the smile fell from his lips as he once more found himself thinking of the way Bellatrix Lestrange’s head had snapped backwards in his vision.

He set the books back into a stack and watched as his revealing charm faded and returned the stack to its disguised state.

He padded into the bedroom and climbed back into Snape’s bed. The soft covers slipped around him as he snuck beneath and flipped the book open, before cautiously searching over the illustrations. He quickly found that while the book had been alphabetized, Sirius’s family pasted pages out of order, though they seemed to generally agree to keep spells beginning with ‘A’ together, and so on.

Umbridge’s gagging curse lingered in the back of his mind, but he found himself far more interested in finding information that explained what had happened last night. He wondered if he could trick Tom into arriving by reading from the book, as it was easily as uncomfortable as sitting in a meeting with Umbridge. The thought of enduring the tidal wave of anger, bitterness, and narcissism again made Harry nauseous, but he’d seen how quickly Tom could appear now.

If he could appear at the drop of a hat, Harry needed a way to make him leave just as quick. Occlumency wasn’t helping.

He still wanted someone to talk with Tom as well. Ms Eileen was invaluable, but if no one talked with Tom, then her experiences were only helpful for guessing how true the memories Harry’d seen were.

She couldn’t tell if they were talking to Tom or Voldemort, or both, or neither, if she didn’t talk with whomever was in Harry’s head.

Snape wasn’t about to talk with him, that much had been made clear last night.

The more he searched over the book though, the less sure he felt about his experience with Tom’s memories. He began second guessing his experiences from the last few months as well. Aside from a growing sense of unease, Harry hadn’t felt anything like he had last night, and he began to wonder if he was mad for believing Tom could pop in whenever he liked. Snape believed Harry’s experience in the cupboard, and later in his office when he’d spoken Parseltongue, and last night, came from Tom attempting to sneak into his mind through long distance magic. Harry began to think he may have been right. He couldn’t force Tom into attacking him whenever he pleased by reading about nasty curses, no matter how badly he wanted some control over the situation.

Harry wondered if he should stop calling him Tom, but the memories he’d seen last night were clearly from when Voldemort was Tom. They were odd memories to force Harry to see as well. They weren't intimidating either, but highly traumatizing instead.

Why bother showing Harry the London Blitz? It had nothing to do with the long hallway he’d seen in his dreams, nor did it have anything to do with the prophecy or war.

He realized that without any sort of actual guidance, the likelihood that he’d find an answer to his confusing experience was low and began to read through the ‘G’s’, in search of gagging curses instead. It was difficult to find any one curse however, and he transitioned to flipping and glancing over pages with cautious care. Several spells looked promising, but none of them mentioned the ribbons Harry experienced, or the way he choked on them.

He wondered if Umbridge had chosen for ribbons to choke him, or if it’d been a feature within the curse. Ribbons were notable enough for him to believe that at least one person would’ve mentioned it.

Harry blinked as he came across an ink stained page. It was devoid of the drawings he’d grown used to narrowly avoiding. Nearly every instruction was scratched over with alternative directions and warnings.

Someone had circled a thin and slanted note reading, ‘Process?’, and drawn an arrow toward another circled note reading, ‘Ask Slughorn’.

The arrows split from there and pointed to several instructions and outcomes, which Harry idly read over until he came to the title of the page.

“Horcrux.” Harry quietly read aloud.

He’d finished the ‘G’s’ and moved straight into ‘H’ without realizing it. His hopes of finding his curse fizzled and he sighed as he dropped his chin into his hand and glanced over the page before him.

Several spells were listed, each with clear guides for pronunciation, as well as wand movements.

Harry couldn’t tell if this page was about an item or spell, as half of the summary was scratched out, and replaced with another scratched out summary. The further he read, the more nausea swept through him. A large portion of the page directed the reader toward the goal of encasing a soul in a container, though thankfully for Harry’s stomach, it had nothing on how to go about it. The arrow Harry noticed earlier trailed off from this point and once more directed him to ask Slughorn.

He wondered if Slughorn was an author.

A heavy feeling sank in the back of Harry’s mind, and he slowly slid the book closed and hid it beneath the bed.

Sirius had been right. The book should’ve stayed in his family library.

He shuddered and grabbed his stuffed dog before climbing down from the bed. The room was too dark and too cold, and reading about trapping souls reminded him far too much of the way his mum and dad had crawled out from Voldemort’s wand during their duel in the graveyard. He hoped they weren’t encased in Voldemort’s wand. He tried to breathe calmly and guess if Tom might choose now to reappear, but he couldn’t sense any of the malevolence, or narcissism that’d been prevalent last night.

Gravestones seemed to peak out from within the shadows in Snape’s room, and Harry let out a nervous breath. He couldn’t see Voldemort’s whisper thin black cloak, nor could he hear Nagini.

He could smell the burnt ozone that hung in the air after someone was murdered though.

His stuffed dog made him feel a fair bit braver, but he didn’t fancy spending another second in this bedroom. He carefully avoided the darker shadows as he rushed into the sitting room and gently shook Snape awake.

“Nightmare?” Snape asked in a raspy, exhausted voice.

Harry nodded and climbed onto the bed as Snape lifted the covers. He wasn’t sure how he felt about lying, or if Snape would consider Harry seeing gravestones similar enough to a nightmare to think of them the same thing.

Snape dropped a hand over his head and whispered something too softly for Harry to hear.

He felt far safer hiding beneath the covers with Snape. Finding Snape was too routine for Harry to feel any semblance of awkwardness, or as if he should handle his fears on his own as well.

“You’re at Hogwarts,” Snape said in a clearer voice. “It’s nearly five in the morning and you have an essay due in Potions, this afternoon.”

Harry nodded and tried to keep his thoughts on his grades and homework.

He’d worked on his essay with Hermione and Ron earlier in the week, though given what happened in between Snape assigning his essay, Malfoy’s bullying and all it brought forth, Harry forgot about it.

“It’s on the ingredients for the Invigoration Draught, you did well brewing it in class.” Snape said. His voice slipped away from him near the end and Harry wondered if he could hear Snape falling back asleep.

The uncomfortable stickiness of the burnt smell and shadowy graves drifted slowly.

His eyelids drooped and while he doubted he’d truly sleep, he found himself distracted enough to think about whether or not he’d written the conclusion to that essay, rather than darker topics.

——

“This has potential.” Snape said as he read through the spell Hermione showed him.

Ron sniffled and rubbed at his eyes as he looked at the covers still draped over the couch and the cluttered desk. He slowly moved around the coffee table before dropping onto a cushion next to Harry.

If given the chance, Harry knew Ron would fall back asleep. He wondered if he felt strange about possibly sleeping in Snape’s Chambers.

Despite Harry’s belief in his own insomnia, he managed to sleep for nearly an hour before Snape woke him and gave him the antidote. After agreeing once more to help Harry, Ron, and Hermione with the charm they’d found yesterday, Harry made his way to the Common Room and back in time to find the bed settling back into a tufted couch.

“What I didn’t understand, Professor, or I guess more or less realized last night,” Hermione began. She stood stock still next to Snape as she spoke, and her hands twitched, as if eager to point to areas on the page. “Was whether or not this needed to be cast when the curse was triggered or if it could be cast now, and be, well, be present for whenever Harry needed it.”

Snape turned the page and hummed as he read over the opposite side.

“Thought we’d all be sent home last night.” Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry blinked and turned to look at Ron as Hermione asked another question.

“Umbridge, I mean,” Ron said. “Thought she’d try poisoning you again, Snape would kill her and the school’d close. That’s what you tried to say, when she dragged you away, wasn’t it? Poison?”

“Oh.” Harry said dumbly.

He’d tried to say ‘potion’, but poison worked equally as well.

“Well, we ran to get Snape, and I mean, we ran. Hermione nearly screamed when he wasn't in his classroom.”

Harry shook his head after remembering all of the broken glass he’d seen on the floor of Snape’s office. “He was in his office.”

“Yeah, I know that now.” Ron said as he rolled his eyes. “Thought Malfoy’d stop us from finding him, you know.”

“Malfoy?” Harry asked. Despite worrying about what sort of detention he’d get for cursing Malfoy, and worrying if Malfoy was truly alright, Harry hadn’t really considered what the ferret had gotten up to in the last few days.

Dumbledore mentioned him going to the hospital wing, but beyond that, Harry hadn’t had time to check what had happened .

“He was loitering around the classroom, seemed like he wanted someone to give him trouble.”

He must’ve been fine if he was no longer in the Hospital Wing.

Harry grimaced. “That’s just what we need.”

“Well, Hermione distracted him long enough for me to sneak away and find Snape, but it was dodgy.” Ron said as he wrinkled his nose.

“Very.” Harry nodded.

“Bet he’ll try something in Potions today, sodding git. We haven’t seen him since that awful—”

“Interesting conversation?” Snape asked in a dry voice.

Harry and Ron each jerked and looked toward Snape. Harry spied a tell tale sign of annoyance twitching near Snape’s right eye.

Hermione’s eyes widened reproachfully, and Harry didn’t need to hear her speak to know she wanted for the three of them to make a good impression on Snape.

“Sorry.” Harry said quietly.

“Forgiven.” Snape said.

Ron’s jaw dropped open, though it snapped shut with a click seconds later.

“Given that we are discussing the possible failures of this charm, you both ought to pay attention.” Snape said as his dark eyes narrowed on Ron. “This is for immediate relief, but it’s worth attempting.” He said as he set the book on his desk. “Casting it won’t hurt, however, this doesn’t explain what the curse may do, should it be removed. The charm is transitory.”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Does it go somewhere else?” Ron asked in a high voice.

Harry twisted to look at Ron once more and worried momentarily if Ron thought the ribbons might jump from Harry to him.

“The term ‘transitory’ means, ‘not permanent’.” Snape explained as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t corporeal, it can’t leap from one person to the next.”

The tips of Ron’s ears lit up with a bright red blush.

Harry gently knocked his shoulder into Ron’s and hoped he wouldn’t take Snape’s short temper personally. They’d all had a rough night, Ron and Hermione included, going by Ron’s fear of waking up to a murder.

“This only offers a temporary reprieve, in which case, you’ll find yourself under the effects of the curse once more as soon as it wears off.” Snape said as he looked at Harry.

“Anything to bring her down a peg.” Harry said fiercely.

Snape shook his head. “Don’t let her know you have this.” He said softly. “Despite her seemingly inept behaviour, Lupin could be right.”

Harry swallowed heavily after remembering Lupin’s comment about Umbridge’s willingness to hurt others. While he hadn’t been twisted around her memories, he’d suffered her cruel small smile enough to know how much she enjoyed hurting people. She and Tom would likely get on. For all Harry knew, she wanted him to find a way out of her curse. Perhaps it’d been a test.

“What could Professor Lupin be right about?” Hermione asked.

“He believes she’s capable of far more dangerous actions if pushed.” Snape said. “That being said, don’t push her, despite what you may want to do.” He said as his eyes swept over the three of them.

“What do you think she’ll do, if we push her?” Ron asked.

Snape considered his question as he rolled his wand between his fingertips. “I’d prefer not to dwell on ‘if’ questions.” He said silkily. “If you’re inclined to find out what will happen, push her.”

Ron blanched and sat a little straighter.

“You have a Defense lesson today,” Snape said after a moment.

“What if she—” Harry started before swallowing heavily. He couldn’t imagine what Umbridge might do if Harry had proof of finding a way around her curse. What if she removed the antidote like Dumbledore had and outed Harry to his entire class?

“I’ll check with Professor Dumbledore.” Snape said, guessing Harry’s meaning when it was clear he wouldn’t finish his sentence. “Either you’ll attend or you’ll find yourself indisposed. I will inform you before the lesson.”

Hermione tossed a confused look between the two of them.

“What—” Ron started anxiously.

“Later.” Harry said, cutting him off quickly.

Hermione inhaled slowly and nodded. “Alright. You could teach us as well, the charm, I mean, so we can help.”

“Possibly.” Snape said. “Without a complete grasp of the pulmonary system, you may accidentally leave a piece of the curse present.”

“That would just mean the charm wouldn’t work then, wouldn’t it?” Ron asked.

“It may still allow the curse to respond, though in varying degrees.” Snape nodded before flipping his wrist and checking his watch. “Do you want to test it now?” He asked.

Harry nodded as did Ron and Hermione.

“Clear your mind. Remove all thoughts of the curse and any affiliated effects or causes.” Snape said as he picked the book up once more. “Try not to anticipate a response.”

Harry’s eyes slipped shut and he imagined himself flying over the Quidditch Pitch.

Snape whispered a long, complicated line of Latin and Harry jerked as he felt a shower of sparks rain down on him.

He peeked one eye open and glanced at his hands. They looked just as they had moments earlier, making Harry wonder if the spell was all in his head. It seemed almost rude, given how Harry’s curse was similarly in his head.

Hermione snickered and Harry looked curiously toward her.

“Sorry!” She said as she covered her mouth. “Your hair’s gone all staticky.”

Harry rubbed his hands over his hair and tried to set it right. Ron joined in for a brief moment before Snape flicked his wand and the electrical feeling dissipated.

“Aside from a mild static effect, how did you find that?” Snape asked.

“Fine.” Harry said. “I could breathe and everything.”

Snape hummed. “This time, imagine saying what would trigger the curse, but don’t say anything out loud.”

“Wait,” Harry said as a thought slipped into the back of his mind. “I, erm, If we trigger the curse and you put a temporary hold on it, wouldn’t that hold it off for however long the charm lasts?”

“Ideally.” Snape said. “Though this may wear off in minutes.” His eyes narrowed on the book again as he read over the page. “There’s nothing here to suggest this is a functional solution to this curse. You’re imagining this is a temporary solution.”

“But it kind of is a solution.” Harry said.

“It solves the problem.” Ron nodded.

“If it leaves you terrified of when it will wear off, it’s only delaying the problem.” Snape said. “A delay isn’t a solution.”

“A delay in it’s effects is better than enduring the effects.” Harry said as he crossed his arms.

“The delay is not the issue, the curse is.” Snape said carefully. “Would you like me to continue this spell?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.” Harry said as he bit back a crabby response and resisted the urge to throw himself backwards into the couch. He idly searched for Ms Eileen’s knit cover, but stopped after spotting his stuffed dog tucked into the crease between the cushion and armrest. He hoped neither Ron nor Hermione noticed it. “Please.”

“Then imagine triggering the response without physically doing so.” Snape said.

Harry’s eyes slid shut once more and he found himself circling the Quidditch Pitch. He imagined screaming about Voldemort’s rebirth and saw taffy pink ribbons launch toward his broom.

Static flickered in between the ribbons and kept them from wrapping around Harry for more than a few seconds, but it left a deeply uncomfortable sensation behind. An electric smell ballooned around him, though it wasn’t nearly as awful as the burnt ozone from the graveyard, nor the way London smelled when it burned. If Harry knew what melting ribbons smelled like, he might’ve thought that was the source.

Harry sniffed and shook his head before realizing the sensation had already dissipated.

His eyes dropped open and he looked up at Snape in time to spy a worried crease disappear from his forehead.

“Opinions?” Snape asked.

“Less good.” Harry nodded. “But I think it worked, in a way. The ribbons couldn’t stay for long. They still—erm, they,” He spun his fingers around each other as he tried to describe the sensation, but found himself making less sense before giving up and huffing in disappointment.

Snape hummed and checked his watch once more.

“Should we test to see if it works during the real thing?” Ron asked. “Not that I want you to go through it, I mean, but so we have a way to stall it.”

“I’m more inclined to see how long this charm lasts. Given that it works when the curse is internally triggered, it will likely work when it is externally triggered, barring what magnitude of effects you’re subjected to.” Snape said.

Ron nodded. “Alright, so you cast it and we check in throughout the day to see when it wears off.”

The pinched crease reappeared on Snape’s forehead and he looked toward Harry. “Is that what you want?”

Harry nodded firmly. The smell wasn’t close enough to anything too worrying for him to be readily nervous and he was desperate for a bit of control. The idea of attending Umbridge’s class with it gave him an eager excitement, and despite Snape’s warning, he almost wanted to push Umbridge, just so she could watch him slip around her curse.

“If anything changes, come to my office.” Snape said as he repeated the long string of Latin. “It’s charmed to alert me when a student is present.”

Sparks fell over Harry, and he felt his hair flutter upwards as the static wove around him. Without imagining ribbons, Harry could hardly tell the spell was active.

It might be an issue if he bumped into anyone and shocked them, but otherwise, he felt good.

“What about Umb-Professor Umbridge?” Hermione asked. “Should we wait to hear if Harry’s attending?”

Snape shook his head and moved toward his desk as he grabbed a fluffy quill, slipping it between the pages to act as a bookmark. “As I said, I will find you before that lesson and let you know. For now, go to breakfast.”

Ron leant down and scooped his book bag up before handing Harry his own bag.

Harry waved a quick goodbye and Snape mouthed ‘write mother,’ in response before following Ron and Hermione out the door. They cautiously skirted wandering Slytherins and double checked for Malfoy around every corner before making it to the Great Hall.

“Muffliato,” Harry whispered as flicked his wand around the three of them.

Hermione paused as she fell into a seat beside Harry. “She didn’t try to poison you again, did she?”

“Or did she try another curse?” Ron asked as he took a seat across from them.

“Worse.” Harry said as he looked idly around them.

He filled them in on the events of last night with a gracious avoidance of his meltdown and whispered the shortest explanation he could on what happened over the last few days with Tom. He glanced at his knuckles as he spoke and imagined the sharp sting Umbridge’s ruler had left, along with the barrage of memories. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to have much of an appetite afterwards, not that Harry blamed them. He was glad they agreed to explore the phenomenon more fully though. He paused in his story and twisted around to check how many students had wandered in to eat breakfast, but paused as his eyes fell on Ginny. Something he’d thought last night trickled into the back of his mind.

‘Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.’

Ginny had more experience with a young Tom Riddle than any of them.

She’d already talked with him as well. She’d know if Harry was possessed, given that she’d been possessed herself.

“Hang on.” Harry said as he jumped to his feet. Hermione and Ron trailed quickly after him as he fell into a spot across from her. “Ginny!”

Ginny paused mid bite in her porridge as she looked up at the three of them. “G’morning?”

“Ginny, er, hi,” Harry nodded with an awkward wave before trying to figure out how best to ask for her help. He realized with a sudden nervousness that she may not want anything to do with Tom Riddle and Harry couldn’t really fault her for that. “You, er—”

“Remember the dodgy bloke from the diary?” Ron asked, having caught onto Harry’s intention.

Ginny dropped her spoon into the bowl and sent a small ring of mushy oats dribbling over the table.

“We need your help.” Ron said firmly.

“If you feel up to it.” Hermione added, quickly catching on as well.