Unknown Prophecy (Ch. 56)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Unknown Prophecy

Chapter 56

The day had been a slow, exhausting grind, and Harry’s patience had worn thin by supper. It was undoubly frustrating to be trailed everywhere by well-meaning but suffocating Prefects, who herded him through the corridors and up to Gryffindor Tower as if he might otherwise dash himself straight onto the basilisk’s fangs. By the time he slumped into a chair by the common room fire, Harry’s nerves were a bit frayed.

He waited in the flickering orange firelight for the last of his classmates to finish their whispered rounds of chess and retreat up the spiral stairs to bed. By midnight, the common room was silent except for the ticking of the clock and the occasional spits and hisses from an overfed log. Harry’s exhausted body immediately woke as if a switch had been thrown. 

Harry rose, his heart beating so hard he felt it against his ribs. He moved to the portrait hole, careful not to disturb the sleeping Fat Lady, and waved his hand at his body, turning himself completely invisible. 

Traversing the castle in the dead of night was always an eerie experience. Cold drafts of air blew through the long stone hallways, and the portraits snapped awake at every clack of shoes on stone. Harry drifted down staircase after staircase, his feet silent on the stone and his senses stretched wide for the sound of a Prefect’s footsteps or the unhinged yowls of Mrs. Norris. At one point, he had to press himself flat against the wall as the spectral form of Nearly Headless Nick drifted through a tapestry, humming tunelessly about spoiled pudding. The ghosts had become more active lately, and Harry wondered if they, too, felt the dread building in the castle’s old bones.

He made his way down to the second floor. He pressed his hand against the door to the girls’ lavatory and pushed. It eerily creaked open. The corridor was empty, but the smell of mildew and stale water clung to the air. Harry ducked inside and made himself visible the moment he was sure he was alone.

He half expected to hear Moaning Myrtle’s signature wail echoing off the cracked tiles, but the lavatory was eerily silent. The only sound was the steady drip of water from a leaking pipe. The latest basilisk sighting must have spooked Myrtle, Harry figured, and he hoped she would stay that way, at least until he was finished. He approached the familiar sink. Its porcelain was chipped, and the pipes were heavily tarnished. Harry leaned in and hissed a single word in Parseltongue. “Open.”

The sink trembled. The tap handles retracted with a series of metallic clicks, and the basin rotated, exposing a gaping, slimy pipe that descended through darkness. Harry hesitated only a second before he jumped down into the dark void.

The pipe was even colder and slicker than he remembered, as if the damp algae had spent all summer multiplying in the dark. Harry slid at breakneck speed, the air whipping past his ears, until the pipe widened and spat him out into utter blackness. He landed hard on a pile of old bones, and they crunched loudly against the soles of his shoes. Dust billowed up in the silence, coating his robes and the insides of his nostrils. Harry wrinkled his nose and rubbed it with the back of his hand. He stood and brushed himself off. Harry couldn’t help but feel excited. It felt just like the good old days, and he set off down the passageway, every sense tuned for the slithering of scales.

The Chamber of Secrets had not changed. Water still pooled on the floor in oily puddles that reflected the pale light from the glowing wall torches. The columns were as massive and creepy as ever. They were carved with leering faces and entwined serpents, looming overhead like the ribs of some giant beast. Here and there, bits of old snake skin hung in shreds from the stones or floated in the stagnant water.

Harry’s shoes sent ripples across the floor as he walked the twisting path toward the far end. He was counting on his enchanted necklace to protect him from the basilisk’s gaze, but every few steps he found himself glancing away from the shadows, just in case. He didn’t know how much he trusted his handiwork against a monster bred to kill with its eyes, but he was going to find out soon enough. 

As he approached the far wall, the stonework grew more ornate. The statue of Salazar Slytherin loomed at the end of the chamber, its ancient, simian face carved with such precision that Harry almost expected the lips to move. The white, wispy beard pooled around the statue’s feet like frozen water. Harry suddenly had a flashback of Ginny Weasley’s body lying there, pale and cold as the stone itself. He paused there, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light and the shadows shifting over the statue’s features. He felt exposed and slightly vulnerable, and yet at the same time, invigorated by the danger. He needed to be ready for anything.

Harry waved his hand over his body, and he felt the magic do its job. His illusion wrapped itself around him, clinging tightly to his body like a second skin. He stared down at his reflection in the puddle by his feet, and saw Tom Riddle looking back at him, every detail perfect down to the arrogance in the angle of his chin. Harry wiped his mouth and squared his shoulders. He took a few practice steps, mimicking the easy, predatory grace he had once seen in Riddle’s memory. He even tried a smirk, which came more naturally than he would have liked.

The chamber was quiet as a tomb, but Harry sensed movement inside the hulking statue. He forced himself to relax, knowing that he had to sell the illusion completely. Then Harry walked up to the base of the Slytherin statue, chin raised.

Harry licked his lips and took a deep breath. When it came out, his voice was deeper and more measured than usual. It was as close as he could get to Tom Riddle’s. “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!”

The words echoed down the length of the chamber. The silence that followed was so complete that Harry could hear his own frantic heartbeat. For a moment, nothing happened, and Harry wondered if he’d somehow botched the Parseltongue. Then the statue’s mouth twisted, stone grinding on stone. The face’s lips parted, and from deep within, an ancient, guttural hiss vibrated against the air.

A massive head surged out of the opening, its scales glistening wetly in the torchlight, and for one instant, Harry really became nervous. The basilisk was even larger than he remembered. Its blunt snout was as long as his entire body, and its yellowed fangs were as thick as broomsticks. Its yellow eyes blazed like lamps in the half-darkened chamber. The great snake emerged, tongue flicking, and twisted its body into a wide coil that spanned the breadth of the chamber. The tail never seemed to end, winding around the base of the statue and up the first few steps before stopping. The basilisk turned its head until it loomed directly above Harry, every scale catching the light and every muscle tensed to strike.

“Massssster?” the basilisk hissed. The sound was a blend of suspicion and hope.

Harry felt a drop of sweat bead on his upper lip. The illusion was holding. “Yes. It is I… your Master,” he replied, striving to sound effortlessly confident and commanding. It took effort to let the words slither out, and he hoped the basilisk’s hearing was too literal to pick up the nervous catch in his throat.

The snake’s tongue flicked again, tasting the air. For a sickening moment, Harry thought it was going to lunge and snap him in half, but instead, the basilisk drew back and inhaled, chest expanding like a bellows. It was gathering his scent, sifting him molecule by molecule.

“You do not ssssssmell like Massssster,” it observed, its voice flat and mildly offended.

Harry’s mind whirled. He needed to improvise. “I took a shower,” he said, the words out before he could stop himself.

“Sssssssshower?” The basilisk pronounced the word with exaggerated suspicion.

Harry’s brain raced. “It’s like… shedding your skin to get rid of the old scent. Humans do it all the time,” he added, hoping the conversational tone would seem more Riddle-like than desperate.

The basilisk blinked slowly, eyes narrowing to slits. It seemed to be digesting the information. “Ah. You have sssshed your sssskin. Thissss is new sssmell.” It swayed, as if pleased to have solved a puzzle. “Very clever, Masssster. I would not have exsspected anything elssse.”

Harry resisted the urge to collapse in relief. He straightened his posture and tried to remember how Riddle had stood in the memory.

“It isss good you have returned,” the basilisk went on. “My hunger growssss, and the cassssstle is full of tasty meat.”

Harry felt a chill. “That meat isn’t for eating,” he said, quickly. “Not yet.”

The basilisk’s pupils dilated, and its body tensed, like a dog waiting at the dinner table for a dropped morsel. “What ssshall I eat, then, Masssster? I have been patient for many turnsss of the moon.”

Harry just happened to be ready for this. He had thought about it beforehand. “Go into the forest at night,” Harry said with a commanding tone. “It’s full of acromantula … large, tasty spiders. Eat only them, and avoid being seen. I will return later and give you more orders. Do you understand?”

The basilisk stilled. A tremor of satisfaction traveled down its body. “Acromantula,” it repeated, savoring the word. “Yessss. They are worthy prey. They ssssslither and ssssshudder and try to fight, but they die quickly.” The mouth curled in a way that almost resembled a smile. “Remain unssseen. I underssssstand, Masssster.”

Harry nodded, the motion stiff, but convincing. He imagined how Voldemort might have relished this moment. It made his skin crawl, but he played the part. His arms were folded behind his back, and his chin was up in a hoity-toity fashion. 

“Good. Remember  … remain unseen. If anyone in the castle discovers you, I will feed you nothing but rats for a year.” The threat came out a bit more Harry than Riddle, but the basilisk seemed to accept it. Its tongue lashed out, and it inclined its head.

“I will not fail you, Masssster,” the basilisk promised. “I will hunt in ssssilence. The spidersss will not know what killsss them. And then, when you command, I will return.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. He stepped back, careful not to break eye contact, even though the necklace glowed hot against his chest. The basilisk waited for a final word, so Harry gave it a swift nod, the sort of dismissal he guessed Riddle would have given a servant.

With a single, effortless motion, the basilisk heaved itself around, scales rasping wetly against the floor. Its body slid into a wide drain pipe at the far end of the Chamber, vanishing into the black with a sound like a distant landslide. In less than a minute, the monster was gone, and the chamber was quiet again.

Harry wiped the sweat from his lip. He let out a shaky breath and pressed his palms against the damp stone wall, waiting for his pulse to slow. That had gone better than he’d dared hope. Not only was the basilisk under his control, but it was now about to solve another of Hogwarts’ most persistent problems. Harry hated those Acromantula. He still held a grudge against Aragog, who had instructed his “children” to eat him and Ron. Harry allowed himself a grim smile, knowing what was in store for those disgusting creatures. He only hoped Hagrid stayed far away from them. 

He lingered only long enough to make sure the basilisk was truly gone, then he removed the illusion from his body. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. The last few minutes had been quite stressful. He made himself invisible again, just in case Myrtle made a reappearance in the bathroom. He retraced his steps, his shoes squelching in the stagnant puddles. He made his way through the corridor of bones to the slime-slicked pipe.

The ride up the pipe was even less pleasant than the drop down. Harry levitated himself, fighting gravity the whole way. His hands stung from where they accidentally bashed and scraped against the inside of the pipe. When he reached the end, he nearly lost his grip and was forced to wedge his foot against a rusty pipe joint. After a final scramble, he burst through the opening and found himself kneeling in the girls’ bathroom. His fingers were numb, and his clothes were soaked through. He listened for a moment. There was no Myrtle, no Prefects, and no alarms. Harry took the opportunity to cast a quick cleaning charm on himself. The stink of old bones and serpent musk vanished.

As he resealed the sink, he paused, his hand resting on the porcelain. He half-expected Dumbledore to burst in, but the lavatory remained quiet. The return to Gryffindor Tower was an adventure all its own. Harry had to dodge two patrolling Prefects on the main stairway. He had to avoid two students who had burst out of an empty broom cupboard with their clothes disheveled, and he nearly ran straight into Peeves, who was singing “God Save the Queen” at the top of his lungs. Every shadow seemed to move. There were more people in the corridors than Harry ever remembered seeing. Dumbledore wasn’t playing around with the security. More than once, he had to press himself into a corner while footsteps passed mere inches away.

At the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Harry almost forgot the password, which would have been a disaster, but the Fat Lady was sleepy and barely cracked an eye as he slipped inside. The common room was as he’d left it. It was empty, warm, and gently flickering with the embers of the dying fire. Harry let himself fade back into visibility, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

He collapsed into his favorite armchair by the fire, legs splayed, hands folded in his lap. He sat there for a long time, staring into the flames, letting his mind replay the evening’s madness. Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. A Gryffindor was now in control of Slytherin’s monster. It was insane. Harry finally exhaled loudly and got up. He went straight to the dorm, where he found Hermione waiting for him behind the closed curtains of his four-poster bed. Harry raised an eyebrow as he stripped down. Hermione smirked. “I snuck in,” she explained before he could ask. Harry lightly chuckled and shook his head. 

He climbed into bed, and Hermione instantly curled around him. Her hand caressed his stomach and quickly dipped into his boxers. Her fingers played with his soft cock, which instantly turned hard. “How did it go?” she asked as her fingers wrapped around him. Harry groaned when she started slowly working his cock. Harry waved his hand at the curtains and put up a Silencing Charm. 

“It went as well as I could have hoped for,” he said, looking at her lovely face. Hermione was completely naked, except for the necklace that was wrapped around her thin, graceful neck. Hermione smiled happily and pushed herself to her knees. 

“Good,” she simply said and crawled down to his legs. She quickly whipped his boxers off, and his cock smacked loudly against his belly. 

Hermione’s hands pushed Harry’s knees outward as she leaned down. Her hair framed her pretty face and fell over his thighs. She gave him a wicked glance and bent down further. Harry felt her lips land softly on the underside of cock. She lightly kissed it, and then she kissed it again, closer to the tip. She kissed it even more, but this time, she used her tongue. It drew a shudder all the way through his gut.

He propped himself on his elbows, determined not to miss a second, and Hermione rewarded him by wrapping her lips around the head, gently at first. Harry tightly gripped the sheets while her hand gripped his shaft at the base. Her fingers squeezed as her mouth worked the crown. She popped off with a wet sound and left his cock glistening. She then dragged her tongue down his shaft in a slow, almost reverent motion. Harry felt every nerve in his body light up. Hermione nuzzled his balls with her nose before dragging her tongue along the seam. She mouthed one side of his sack, rolling it on her tongue, and Harry’s hips jerked up involuntarily. He felt her smile, and she let out an unashamed moan.

Hermione looked incredibly sexy as she slurped on his balls. The arch of her back, her ass wiggling in the air, and the pale curve of her sexy thighs made him want to bust all over her face. Her legs were spread, and as she moved, he could see her shiny lips glistening in the low light. Her thick, heady scent filled the inside of the four-poster. Hermione’s hand began to stroke his cock in slow, tight motions, and her mouth never left his balls. Her tongue worked him with expert precision. She sucked both of his balls into her mouth at once and moaned around them, the vibrations shooting straight through his spine. Her free hand snaked between her own legs and began to move. Two fingers rubbed her slick pussy in quick circles, and she whimpered, the sound muffled by the weight in her mouth.

Hermione shifted her attention, dragging her tongue back up the length of his cock. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as she licked. She licked up the bead of precum at the tip and made a show of savoring it. Hermione then opened her mouth wide and took him in, a centimeter at a time. Her pink lips stretched impossibly wide. He watched the bulge of his cock fill her mouth, then her throat. Harry watched her cheeks hollow with effort, and the tip of her nose almost brushed the skin of his belly. She pulled back, coughing slightly while saliva trailed from her lips to the head. She smiled sexily, wiped her mouth, and dove in again.

This time, she didn’t stop. Hermione shoved her head down, all the way to the base, until her nose was pressed against his skin. Her throat constricted and relaxed around him, and Harry heard her moan. She began bobbing her head up and down, each stroke smoother than the last. Her hand kept working at the base, squeezing in perfect rhythm. Her other hand was a blur between her legs, and Harry could hear the wet sloshing of her damp pussy lips.

He gripped the sheets, barely aware of his own noises. His legs trembled. He felt the heat and urgency build, but Hermione wouldn’t let up. Her swollen lips pulled off with a gasp, and she immediately wrapped her hand around him, stroking hard.

Hermione spun her body around and straddled him backwards. She planted her knees on either side of his waist, reached back between her own thighs, and grabbed his cock with one hand. The head of it glistened with her saliva, and she pressed it between her soaked lips, grinding it up and down the slit and teasing herself with the tip. She arched her back, hands planted on his knees, and with a wild, greedy motion, she dropped down and impaled herself. The slick heat of her pussy swallowed him whole, and Harry lifted his pelvis and groaned.

Hermione paused with him buried inside and let herself adjust, savoring the pleasurable sensation of her tight walls being stretched to their limit. She then began to roll her hips in tight, controlled circles. He watched the muscles of her back flex and bow, and the way her ass flattened against his thighs with every bounce of her wide, sexy hips. She rode him slowly and erotically, each time pulling up until just the tip remained, then slamming down again. Her movements became harder and faster, and she ground her clit against the base of his cock.

Harry reached up and grabbed her waist and the soft cushion of her hips. He dug his fingers in to keep her from falling off. He craned his head and watched the obscene sight of her pussy swallowing him over and over. He loved the way her lips parted and stretched around his cock, then clung to it as she pulled up, as if reluctant to let go. Already there was a frothy white ring of Hermione’s cream at the base of his shaft, and it smeared up and down with each roll of her hips.

She leaned forward, bracing herself on the mattress, and spread herself wider. The view was even more explicit. Her ass was high in the air, and her pussy splayed open as she took all of him in. The slick wetness of her arousal dripped down onto his balls and coated them. Hermione’s noises got louder until her needy whimpers overtook the sounds of their flesh smacking together. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He felt the tension in her legs as she started to shake. Hermione’s head dropped between her shoulders, and her hands gripped his shins tightly. She bounced faster, and the sound became more obscene now. Her breath came out in ragged, whimpering gasps.

“Oh … oh, Harry!” Hermione cried out in her high-pitched voice. 

She squealed, and her entire body convulsed. Her pussy clamped down around him, milking his cock for all it was worth, and she shrieked as her orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy squirted around his cock and dripped down his balls. The sensation tipped Harry over the edge, and his hips bucked upward. His balls tightened, and he exploded inside her.

Hermione kept rocking her hips even as the orgasm intensified. Every jerk of her hips sent another pleasurable jolt through him. She stayed straddled on his lap for a long moment, her chest heaving. Then she slowly eased off of him, letting his softening cock slip from her, and she collapsed beside him. She curled into his side, sweaty and shaking. She threw one arm across his chest, and nuzzled her nose against the hollow of his shoulder.

They didn’t speak for a while. Harry stroked her back, gently playing with her delicate skin. Eventually, her breathing steadied, and she nipped at his collarbone. He tangled his fingers in her hair as he felt her warm breath tickling his skin. Harry pulled her closer, already drifting off with the memory of her straddling him burned into the backs of his eyelids.