Year Two - Chapter Fifteen

I sighed as I stepped inside the room of requirements. In order to kill the white whale, I needed a harpoon capable of harming it. In order to harm it, while in the background the Quidditch cup played, I had no choice but to practice dangerous, forbidden magic. This was a Catch-twenty-two situation from which there was no escape. I needed to use Dark Arts to defeat a Dark Arts creature, which would in turn probably make me a Dark Arts wizard and if found out, it would send me to Azkaban.

On the plus side, my wand would be definitely happy about it.

"Fulgur Percutiens," I chanted, swishing my wand in front of me. Sparks sailed from the tip into the air, hitting the mannequin with a flickering lightning as if a long-distance taser had been used. My lips twisted ever so slightly as I felt the warmth crawl through my wand. I could feel it. A great power, just inches away, just as long as I let go of the inhibitions and allowed it to pour through.

I brought my wand hand back, took a deep breath, centered myself, and then roared it louder than I had ever roared a spell before, "Fulgur! Percutiens!" the thundering lightning bolt struck through the air, it sizzled with thundering might as it incinerated the mannequin in front of it, carved dark, black marks of soot on the ground, and then bounced, ripping through the shelves and the books and setting them ablaze.

I hissed as I swished my wand away, the lightning coming less.

My breathing hitched.

My wand's warmth and glowing-like feeling told me that this, this was what power truly felt like. This was what a wizard was supposed to be. Thunder. Lightning. Might.

"All right," I breathed out. "We're in our element right now." Everything else had been done with practice. Everything else was us, working an everyday eight-hours a day office job. This was us working on what we truly loved and cherished. An union of a wizard's will and a wand's desire. This was what having a natural affinity to something meant. It didn't make one smarter, but it did make the magic stronger, for a certain definition of it.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," I muttered, swishing the wand to let the Incendio in my mind form across its tip, twirling like a thin line and then shooting off like a sentient whip. My left hand guided the jet of flames, even as I twitched my wrist, letting the spell itself snap like a whip would. The flames would not hurt me; magic would prevent it. I made an encore gesture with my left hand, and the flames from my wand spluttered briefly, before increasing in intensity.

Deep breaths, and then I swished the wand. The flames spluttered out. "Fulgur Percutiens," I chanted once more, lightning leaving my wand.

The mannequins were vaporized just as quickly as they were replaced. The lightning sparkled across their frames, burning, shattering, ripping them at their seams as a strange smell filled the air of the Room of Requirements. Yet, I needed to practice it even more. Until it became ingrained, until it became easy, until it became a part of me, as easy to cast as it would be for me to breathe.

I needed something to protect me, and I needed something to strike the basilisk down. More importantly, I needed Fawkes to follow me. That would be problematic, since I wasn't Harry Potter, but perhaps I didn't need to be Harry Potter. Perhaps, all that I needed was merely to ask, to speak up, to tell the Phoenix I needed their help.

Maybe that would work.

I didn't know if the Room of Requirements could bring me in the Chamber of Secrets or not. Technically it was still in the school, the sewers of it, but at the same time I didn't want to risk finding out until my battle plan was ready. If I had some kind of toxin, I could maybe dump it all down the drain and let the basilisk choke to its death, or perhaps copious amounts of Fiendfyre would work too.

I had neither.

What I did have was a set of very dangerous Dark Arts books that needed to be returned by the month's end, more problems than answers, and the feeling of elation that came from literally flinging lightning bolts at straw mannequins.

When I left the Room of Requirements later that day, the shaking had gone down from my limbs considerably, but my fear had merely been replaced with a grim determination, not the bravery of courage, or the happiness of satisfying the minimum requirements for challenging something like the Basilisk.

Dinner was a somber affair. "Where did you end up, Shade?" Amanda asked, "You missed the match! A possessed Bludger tried to strike down Harry Potter, and then Lockhart removed his bones." She grinned as she said that. "Also, they gave us back the Hufflepuffs for potions!" she added. "Longbottom made such a mess we couldn't do our lesson, so we're recovering it with the Hufflepuffs."

"I guess Megan will be happy to know she'll finally be eligible for House Points once more," since Snape would never give points to anyone but the Slytherin if they were together with another House, only when Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were together did he actually act like a normal professor, giving and taking points with a modicum of normality.

Without exaggerating too much, of course, because Snape was still Snape, no matter the Houses in front of him.

"You haven't answered yet," Amanda said, staring at me. "Where did you end up?"

"A bit here, a bit there, a bit sick, a lot sick," I shuddered. "Took Madam Pomfrey three potions to get me back on track. She nearly thought I'd been cursed."

Amanda huffed, "You need to practice what you preach and look out for yourself too, Shade," she lifted her chin. "I've never been sick my entire life, you know? Sickness just doesn't stick to me."

"There's something about how idiots never catch colds," I mused back, glancing at the food in my plate. I wasn't feeling hungry. "Perhaps it's something like that?"

"Hey!" she narrowed her eyes, "Have you been speaking with my auntie?"

"I don't think so," I answered, "I don't even know whom your aunt is."

Amanda blinked. "Auntie Rolanda's the Quidditch referee and the flying instructor here at Hogwarts, Shade. I'm pretty certain I told you," she huffed. "You need to listen properly when people are speaking. It's rude otherwise."

I gave her a wry smile. "I'm sorry about that." I glanced around, and witnessed a flash of light from the Gryffindor's side of the table. My heart skipped a couple more beats.

Colin Creevey hadn't been petrified. This meant the rails had changed. They hadn't changed much, but they had changed. I couldn't risk a random factor making things worse, even to the point of causing a death. I couldn't risk it. Thus, I needed to jump right to the end of it. It was the only way to make sure things would proceed smoothly. Even if Lockhart never got mindwhammed, even if Dobby never broke free of Malfoy's clutches, what were they when compared to a life the basilisk might have taken?

That night, an invisible pair of hands shook me awake. I briefly watched a house elf nod at me, and then disappear with a quiet pop. My eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and slowly I stood up from my bed. My fellow ravens slept. I tiptoed my way out of my bed, fully dressed, and down the flight of stairs that would lead me to the sixth floor, and the Room of Requirements. At night, once the Prefects returned from their extended curfew, nobody patrolled the halls but the professors and the paintings. The best way to avoid the paintings was to move very quietly, because they too slept at night.

My steps brought me inside the Room of Requirements, and from there a door opened in the wall, which led me straight into Dumbledore's office, and its inner prize. I didn't step inside, but merely glanced from the door at Fawkes and its perch. The phoenix was sleeping on it, crooning softly with its feathers slowly dying away. I swallowed, and then extended a hand in the direction of the perch.

It didn't float up. It didn't as much as move. I hissed softly, and clenched my left hand. The perch didn't move an inch. The phoenix's soft snoring came less, though. The animal's vivid eyes opened, and it turned its head towards me.

"Please," I mouthed. "I need your help."

The Phoenix crooked its head to the side. It fluttered its wings briefly, and then flew off its perch. It landed with its talons on my shoulder, much to my chagrin, but I closed the door and felt the warmth of the giant magical creature on my side for the first time. Its voice was soft, and crooning.

I took a deep breath. "We're heading against a Basilisk," I whispered. "Petrifies with indirect sight, kills on sight," I continued. I bit my lips. "Can you rip his eyes out?" I whispered, looking up at the ember-colored eyes of the Phoenix, who crooned back gently.

The warmth that spread into my chest came from the beauty of its song.

"All right," I exhaled. "Off we go, being brave."

I took a deep breath, and watched as the wall of the Room of Requirements in front of us shifted and broke, revealing a stinking passage into the depths of the sewers. Second year students of Hogwarts had battled and faced the basilisk and lived. I was a second year armed with the knowledge of the books, and quite capable in the arts of magic if I said so myself.

There was no way this could go wrong. Come at me, Murphy. I've got a Phoenix.

Fawkes cheerfully cried as it fluttered its wings, and lifted itself off my shoulder to fly ahead and shed light in the labyrinth beneath the school.

Some students broke curfew and went feasting in the kitchen...

...others broke curfew to fight magical, mythological beasts spawned from hell.