What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 33 – Life Goes Easy On Me

Harry and Draco stood silently next to one another, staring down at all the weapons displayed on the table. The striking silver of each piece contrasted with the ebony table they rested on. Harry had to blink several times before he could see them clearly.

There were four elaborate blades, each with the hilt pointing downward at the two men. The first was a pure silver weapon, the cutting edge dangerously thin and so polished it looked white and not silver. The hilt of this sword was wrought in curling detail, all of the same silver, mimicking the movement of smoke curling on the air. According to Draco, this blade was enchanted to cut through absolutely anything.

The next blade was tinted green and the point looked as though it was dipped in violent jade, the colour bleeding out down towards the hilt. The handle itself was encrusted with rubies and serpentine designs curled around the stones. This one was loaded with poison that seeped out the cutting edge and into the wound it inflicted.

The third blade was tinted red and the long blade, thicker than the others and jagged in certain places, looked as though it was still splattered with the remnants of a previous battle, marred forever by the blood of the victim. The hilt was adorned with rubies around the top, but the handle was embossed with tiny black stones. This was enchanted and ultimately designed to prevent the wounds it inflicted on any living thing from healing. The smallest cut would bleed out forever until it drained the body of blood.

The final sword, though Harry had mistaken the colour, was not silver at all but actually white. The strange metal was blinding and it pulsed a pure white aura. It did not look very different from a normal sword, despite the colour, but as Harry looked more closely he saw that the blade itself continued to shift in size and shape. The hilt was simple but the grip, as soon as it was touched, would mould itself into the palm of the bearer. This blade was enchanted to cause endless pain to the victim, no matter how unimportant the wound. It was a weapon of loathing and vengeance, not of utility.

Harry let his eyes roam from one to the next, wondering which would be best to face the snake. He, himself, had simply used Gryffindor’s sword and it was entirely a fluke. He had not called for a sword at all and, if he had been forced to, would likely have used his wand.

“Well, how do you propose we go about this?” Draco asked rather impatiently, standing so close to Harry that the dark-haired man could smell him. This was distracting as Draco had a tendency to smell delectable.

“Well,” Harry began slowly, thinking it over. “We’ve got to blind it first, you see… then we have to kill it.”

“Oh, yes,” Draco sneered after a moment’s pause. “I might never have thought of that. I’m glad to see that nineteen years out of school and working for the Ministry have served you well, Potter. Clearly the government is achieving what it intends: to turn all of its workers into mindless, droning buffoons.” He rattled off for a while, though Harry wasn’t listening much. He had learned to tone out Draco’s snide remarks when he could.

“First off,” Harry replied absently, still considering the blades. “You did ask. Second, you work for the Ministry as well, prat.”

“Yes, but I work in the Health Department,” he corrected amused. “It’s practically its own separate government.”

Harry ignored him and picked up the green sword, calculating the weight of it and its usefulness in battle. Draco made a sound and cleared his throat.

“I don’t think we should use that one,” he said simply, tapping his foot against the ground. Harry turned and frowned at him.

“Why not?” he asked, as Draco clearly did not want to give more information.

“It’s poisoned,” he answered. “It would work well to kill the monster, but I don’t want to risk tainting the Basilisk venom with other poisons and we do not know how this poison will act.”

“Then why did you put it out?” Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow and replacing the sword. Draco might have almost turned faintly pink.

“That’s not important,” he brushed off. “The other three would be more suitable, though the one that increases pain was more for my own vengeful desires than anything else.” Harry frowned more deeply. This could not be about vengeance. “But I suppose we’ll take the other two,” the blond concluded, taking note of Harry’s expression.

“You take the one that cuts through anything,” Harry suggested, picking up the other blade himself. He gripped the hilt, arranging his fingers as comfortably as possible under the weight of the weapon. Draco took his own sword and mimicked Harry though looked rather bored by it.

“Have you formulated a better plan?” Draco asked contemptuously. Harry smirked.

“I’m not the planner, so no,” he said simply. “If you wanted a well laid out schedule, you should have found someone else to fight with.”

Draco gave Harry an attractive look, his silver eyes pulling Harry towards him as the wolfish grin on his face grew more pronounced.

“But I do so enjoy fighting with you,” he answered seductively. Harry shivered and forced a roll of his eyes to break the flow of words. He could not allow that to happen now. Not… that moment.

He was still trying to divine the precise meanings behind all the little remarks that Draco made. He concluded that it was impossible without the use of Legilimency, but Harry was neither about to try to read Draco’s mind, nor very good at it anyway.

He supposed he would have to settle with his own obliviousness. Though, after all, Harry did have his secrets from Draco as well. He was sure that the blond could not read him that much better than Harry could read Draco. Could he?

Harry took a deep breath, remembering that they had more pressing matters at hand and took a step towards the door. It was at that point, standing in one of the halls of Malfoy Manor, that he realized that he had no idea where to go.

“Er,” Harry began, glancing from side to side. He was sure he could spend years in this house and never quite discover every room. Yet, the idea of spending ages, whiling away time by exploring the tacit secrets of the Malfoy estate along with Draco was a tempting one, and Harry was not prepared to consider it the way he knew himself to want to.

“I suppose this will be a first for you,” Draco murmured. “Letting someone else lead you rather than the other way around.”

Harry did not respond but let Draco brush past him and followed him closely as he began to stroll down a corridor. When he came to a stop, Harry nearly walked right into him. Draco turned to the wall at his right and stared straight at a bare stretch of stone.

Most of the walls of the corridors were adorned with portraits, paintings, tapestries, mirrors or other decorations that typically filled the halls of castles and high-class mansions like this one. But this one piece of wall was just a connecting support system for the décor and Harry wondered why Draco stopped here.

“Pureté éternelle,” Draco said to the wall. Harry was caught off-guard by the sudden change in language and the way the words rolled off Draco’s tongue made rather wicked thoughts bloom in Haryr’s mind. He turned back to the wall, blushing very slightly and expecting a drastic change but there was no difference at all. It was still just stone.

Draco said not a word but stepped towards the wall and then, before Harry could open his mouth to object or make a remark, he was gone past the stone and Harry was left alone in the corridor. With only a moment to process the information and deftly remind himself that he was, in fact, a wizard and weirder things than this were known to happen on a daily basis in his life, Harry stepped after Draco through the wall.

As he did, he realized that the stone was not solid at all but rather a one-sided illusion and the magic hovered around him. He walked steadily onward, looking for Draco in the dark passageway.

Then, without warning, the darkness dissipated and he was left standing in a corridor very similar to the first one he was in. It was well lit and decorated lavishly with antiques and paintings. Harry’s eyes widened. The Manor was not only hiding numerous lower levels like Hydra had suggested, but also an inner ring of floors and rooms.

“What is all this?” Harry asked, stopped dead and needing an explanation before he could go on. Draco seemed rather amused by his surprise.

“When the Manor was first built,” Draco explained, apparently reading into Harry’s words without much prompting. Perhaps he did read Harry better than he though. “It was designed as an elaborate illusion. Made to look like a normal house –though expansive –but actually serving as a fort in the Middle Ages. Wizards were much less civil creatures then. The outer corridors and rooms were initially a front, the inner circles meant for living and protection.” He paused and smiled with hints of intentions that Harry could only begin to imagine. “The lower levels were meant for the armouries and the cells to contain traitors, prisoners and all manner of captives.” He turned and walked on down the hallway but added something rather redundant. “Naturally, much of it has been renovated since.”

“Ah,” Harry answered intelligently, lacking any better thought or remark to make. He was far too lost in his amazement. What did one family of three do with so much space? So many rooms, so much luxury and endless possibilities; Harry though of an answer that seemed adequate enough.

--Surely, they use it to hide all their secrets.--

They walked on for only a few moments before Draco tapped his wand to a door and lead Harry down a spiralling staircase. After what felt like forever, Draco tapped his wand to another door and led Harry into a hallway, more simple than the last.

This one was just stone with little or no décor at all. It was clearly far underground as there were no windows, nor any sign of outside light. And it was cold. Harry shivered slightly and wondered how a snake might have survived in such a cold and dark environment.

Then, of course, Harry reminded himself that if the Manor could mask an enough space to house a bloody country inside itself, surely there was a way for the Basilisk to survive in conditions that might kill a normal snake.

The former Gryffindor shook himself to attention and started listening for clues to tell him where the snake might be. He suddenly grew nervous as they walked. Draco seemed not to be paying much attention to anything, leading him in any direction he felt. Harry knew Draco must know something but what bothered him was his own inadequacy.

Harry had not spoken Parseltongue, nor heard a snake speak, in just over nineteen years. He wasn’t even sure he still had the ability, considering that the talent stemmed for the piece of Voldemort’s soul that had been attached to him. Now that that was gone, could he still do it?

Then, Harry remembered that Albus Severus had inherited the skill and that reassured him slightly, though he had no way to explain it.

So he strained his ears, pressing them to the walls as he walked and trying desperately to hear inhuman words spoken. Draco stopped suddenly and turned back to look at him, one eye brow gracefully arched while the other flattened low over his eye.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously. Harry hushed him.

“I’m trying to hear it speak,” he answered very quietly. “It’ll make it easier to locate, rather than opening every door from here to the end of time, judging by the size of the Manor.”

Draco blinked several times and nodded, shifting slightly before he turned to keep walking. He held the sword firmly before him as he did. Harry noticed that he seemed mildly uncomfortable now, but brushed it off as discomfort at the idea of what they had to do.

They walked on and Harry heard nothing, feeling the anxiety grow steadily in the pit of his stomach. Finally, he came to a door and stood there a few moments. He did not hear hissing or words of any kind, but a hollow sound from beyond the wall.

“What’s in here?” he asked. Draco stopped and glanced at the door that he was referring to. He blinked before a smirk drew itself on his features and, rather than reply, he simply walked over to the door and pushed it open.

Harry could not believe his eyes. There, in front of him and yards below the ground, was a fully equipped and perfectly sized Quidditch pitch. He stepped into the room with an open mouth and wide, absorbing eyes.

The ground was not stone but grass like it should be. The three goalposts were the ruled-height and the sized looked exactly what it should be for a professional Quidditch pitch. There was a shed at one end of the room with broomsticks and each ball that was necessary. Looking up, Harry realized that the ceiling mimicked the Great Hall of Hogwarts and was enchanted to imitate the sky outside. It felt like a real pitch, but it was inside and Harry felt very suddenly nostalgic.

“It’s been years since I’ve played,” he whispered, forgetting their plans for a moment in his longing. Draco was at his side now and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll play one day soon,” Draco told him confidently. “One-on-one. I haven’t played in ages either. Not since fifth year.”

Harry turned to him.

“Why did you quit in sixth?” he asked, wondering why he had never thought to ask before, though he knew now was hardly the time.

“I did have more important things on my mind,” Draco quipped, sneering slightly. He looked up at the sky as well. “And after playing against W-… Ginny Weasley as Seeker,” he paused, unsure of how to word his response. “It just wasn’t quite the same.”

Harry nodded though he did not know why. He didn’t understand exactly why it wasn’t the same to Draco, but did not press for further explanation. They both sighed softly to themselves and walked back out, knowing that the Basilisk was definitely not hiding in there and they could not afford to make excuses for getting on a broom.

They headed back out and Harry tried not to look back longingly. He loved Quidditch and always would, he realized. When he had children he knew that Quidditch was a luxury that he could no longer afford and gave it up to better support his family, spend more time with his children and offer them what he could. He had never regretted it, but he did long for the sport.

In his musings, Harry almost forgot that he should have been listening closely and immediately pushed his head up against the wall, knowing he would not hear a thing. But something surprised him.

There was a low hiss coming softly through the stone, more like a vibration against it than words. He was still far, but he knew there was something to guide him.

Without wording an explanation, he began walking faster towards the sound. Draco picked up on it and began following him, assuming that Harry could hear something. The hiss grew louder and more pronounced until it was just on the verge of turning into words. Harry quickened his pace and paid no mind to the direction they were going, leaving that to Draco.

He strained his ears against the stone to hear more, realizing that it was not as easy as it once had been. Parseltongue used to happen without him knowing. He would slip into the speech without any knowledge or awareness but now he had to force it. He had to consciously decide to change the language of his thoughts and tongue.

“Free, let me free… Set me loose so I can kill you… Give me my freedom…”

Harry gasped as the hissing changed to words and he began to understand it. Knowing what it meant, however, made the whole matter much more disconcerting. He made an inaudible gasp and moved faster, following the sounds and threats that awaited them.

“Potter, slow down,” Draco’s voice came from behind him. “It’s not going to run away from us, I promise you.”

Harry knew this was true but couldn’t be bothered to slow his feet. He needed to get closer, needed to find the source. He did not know why but the excitement and fear drove him to act more quickly without hesitation. It was adrenaline he had not felt in years.

“Let me go… I’ll seek you out in your sleep… tear you to pieces and feast on your flesh for caging me… Freedom give me freedom…”

The words continued to unnerve Harry, wishing Hydra dead more and more fervently for leaving Draco with this danger brewing in his home. Finally, the voice stopped growing louder but became more clear and Harry stood with Draco in front of a door. This door was very familiar to Harry, but it took him a moment to realize why.

“This is the cell they kept us in,” Harry remarked suddenly, though he didn’t know how they got there. “The cell that kept Ollivander and Luna…When they brought us to Malfoy Manor they put us in here too.”

Draco said nothing for a moment before looking at Harry.

“Yes,” he answered simply. His voice was low and indescribable. Something hit Harry.

“You knew it was me all along,” he said quietly. “You recognized me but didn’t give me away.”

Draco, again, took a few moments before answering.

“Of course I didn’t give you away,” he answered, his tone still complex with his emotions and giving away nothing clear. “Granger could have screwed up your face however she wanted, but did you honestly think I would mistake those eyes anywhere?”

Harry stared and was hit with several questions all at once. How could he have known that Hermione was responsible for his appearance? Furthermore, why were his eyes the most noticeable feature? His scar was broadly displayed and, in fact, likely more visible than it normally was. His entire body was the same, his hair, everything. But Draco noticed his eyes first? Was that why he had been so determined not to look Harry in the face?

He opted not to reply anything to the blond, leaving the subject for later consideration. He needed to clear his mind of all the new information and burgeoning questions. He needed to concentrate.

“Set me free! Let me out and you’ll see what I give you… give you a kiss you’ll never forget…”

Harry snapped back to reality and stared intently at the door.

“That cell was not that big. The Basilisk probably takes up most of it,” he began logically. “and judging from the clarity of its words, I’d say it’s probably staring straight at the door.”

“The cell is much bigger than it looks,” Draco explained. “You keep forgetting that the Manor is built and sustains on the concept of illusion. Nothing is exactly as it seems. But if you think it’s staring straight at the door,” Draco went on, lifting his wand to point at the steel door. He pressed the tip to the metal and slowly pushed through. The wood pierced the metal smoothly as though it was moving through butter. “Conjunctivo.”

Harry gasped and pressed his ear to the door, deciding it was best not to ask Draco about how he had managed that. To wonder to himself was alright, but to open his mouth and make his ignorance known was a very different thing.

“My eyes! My eyes! I’ll kill you, you’ll see! My precious eyes! It burns!!”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Its eyes are burning,” he explained. “But I don’t know if it’s blinded or not.”

Draco nodded and cast another spell inside.

“Accendo,” Draco hissed and there was a high-pitched cry from inside the cell. Harry stepped back.

“Vile beasts! Blind me further! This won’t last forever! I’ll see again soon and you’ll regret it all! Let me out and I will suck you dry of life! Let me out!”

Harry stepped back and nodded to Draco.

“I think we can go in now,” he said determinately. “It’s not petrified but it’s blind for now. We don’t have much time.”

Draco nodded, held his sword out and removed his wand from the door.

“Abeo Cilicis,” Draco cast. Harry’s heart beat powerfully against his chest, ready to shield his eyes if the snake looked them in the face, even while blind. The door dissolved in a cloud of dust and a further shriek from the serpent told Harry that the removal of the door aggravated the wounds on its eyes.

Then, as the dust cloud cleared, Harry looked up and saw, for the second time in his life, a massive and deadly serpent before him. The eyes were spelled shut and the attacks on it caused wounds beneath the forced lids. Snakes did not naturally have eyelids like Humans and so the spell had warped the scales and anatomy. Blood ran down its face and dripped onto the ground. Harry swallowed hard.

The last time he had fought a Basilisk he had very nearly died. The only thing that saved him then was Fawkes and this time he did not think that loyalty to Dumbledore, no matter how powerful, could save him.

“I’ll set you free, little snake, but you should have chosen your words more carefully.”

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A/N: I promise you, there will be shagging soon. I can’t just ignore the plot though and throw them together unnaturally. I want it to make sense and I hope you all enjoy the ride as well.

And I will also explain Ron’s reaction as well as Hermione’s, but later.

Now, as for this chapter, I’m not entirely sure I’m happy with it, but ah well. I cannot tweak it any longer. I hope you like it anyway!

Love for my reviewers and everyone!