Chapter Text
“Let me guess, another student has been petrified.”
The low, flat tones of the potion professor’s voice carried through the meeting room as he entered. Severus was the last to arrive. The rest of the house heads, the school matron and Hagrid were already seated around the table looking worried. Minister Fudge was also present along with several Aurors.
“You are unfortunately correct, Severus,” Dumbledore confirmed. Snape tried to squash the part of him that was pleased at how tired the old coot looked. He had lots of reasons for disliking the Headmaster, many having to do with the present situation, but it was becoming dire.
“That's the sixth student!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. “I'm going to run out of beds at this point!”
“Who was it this time?” Pomona asked.
“One of mine,” Filius replied sadly. “Gretta Richardson. A fifth year.”
That made two Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff and three Gryffindors. Only Slytherin had been spared.
“What of Miss Granger’s discovery?” Minerva inquired. “Surely we can stop this now that we know the culprit?”
Hermione Granger had been the fourth attack. The girl didn't have many close friends so it hadn't been until after the fifth attack that anyone noticed the piece of paper clutched in her fist. It was the entry on basilisks from a dark creature book.
“We tried roosters already,” Hagrid said. “But ‘ogwarts is too big. We need to find where the slippery thing is hiddin’”
Despite Hagrid’s normal soft spot for all creatures he still remembered the last time the Chamber was opened. Even if he was fascinated by the idea of seeing a basilisk with his own eyes he didn’t want one of the students meeting the same fate as poor Myrtle Warren.
“Any idea who the Heir of Slytherin could be?” Filius asked. Everyone turned to Severus who scowled.
“The Slytherin line ended with the Dark Lord. None of my snakes have even the faintest tie to that family.”
Everyone deflated. They had no leads on who opened the Chamber.
“I think it's time we start thinking of closing the school,” Madam Pomfrey suggested. “It's a miracle we haven't had a death yet.”
“And then what?” Snape asked. “We've been looking for the Chamber since before Yule. What makes you think we’ll find it when the students are gone?”
“What if we brought in a Parselmouth?”
All eyes turned to Minerva. She was uncharacteristically nervous, biting at her bottom lip.
“There are no Parselmouths left in Britain,” Severus pointed out.
“But there are speakers in the East,” Minerva countered. “We can call for foreign aid.”
“Absolutely not!”
Everyone had honestly forgotten Fudge was present. He looked scandalized by the Deputy Headmistress’ suggestion.
“I am already spread thin trying to keep the attacks from going public. I will not call in a favor from the Indian Ministry. I will not be seen as an incompetent coward that can not handle his own affairs.”
Everyone except Dumbledore glared at the Minister. They had all protested keeping the attacks quiet and advocated for at least informing the victim’s families but Dumbledore and Fudge had shot them down. Now Fudge was denying them help because he was more concerned for his reputation than the students.
“Why not use the one in Azkaban?”
One of the aurors had stepped forward. He was a newer auror based on the lack of visible scars and seemed uncomfortable with all the attention on him.
“Please explain my boy,” Dumbledore prompted.
“When I did my placement on Azkaban the permanent guards said that there was a Parselmouth on the island.”
“Why was I not aware of this?” Fudge demanded, sputtering in indignation. “Which prisoner? What do they look like?”
“No one has actually seen them but they told me that snakes seemed drawn to the High Tower. I even saw it for myself a few times.”
Severus paled. Surely they wouldn't ask for assistance from that awful place.
“How can the Ministry not know who they are?” Filius demanded. “Someone must have investigated.”
“High Tower is the Death Eater block,” the auror explained. “Maximum security. It is exclusively overseen by dementors.”
A collective shiver ran through the staff but Dumbledore just leaned back and started running his fingers through his beard. His eyes were twinkling like they did when he was intrigued.
“Albus!” Minerva cried. “You can not seriously be considering this!”
“It is the best option we have, my dear,” the Headmaster replied. “Minister Fudge can authorize a temporary release on his own merit and we will put protections in place while they are on Hogwarts grounds.”
Dumbledore gave them what should have been a comforting smile but the Heads of Houses had been around a long time. That particular smile along with that particular intensity of eye twinkle meant he had made up his mind. They would just have to be there to make sure nothing went wrong.
Two days later it was Friday evening and all the students had been sent to their dorms with strict instructions to stay put. The other teachers and several ghosts were patrolling the halls while the House Heads gathered in the entrance hall with Dumbledore awaiting the arrival of the mysterious prisoner.
There was a loud crack from just outside at the temporary apparition point. Two aurors entered first, wands drawn and eyes darting around, assessing their surroundings. Behind them came two more aurors with their wands pointed at the surprisingly short prisoner between them.
They were dressed in the standard gray-striped Azkaban uniform and had chains on their wrists and ankles. They weren't wearing shoes and the uniform was much too big. It fell off their shoulder revealing small runes tattooed along their jutting collar bone. Their long black hair hung nearly half way down their back and hid most of their face from view.
The professors were distracted from studying their guest when a wave of cold despair wash over them. Two dementors entered last, floating behind the prisoner.
“We agreed no dementors!” Minerva shrieked. The two aurors not watching the prisoner flinched and looked properly apologetic.
“We didn't bring them. They just tagged along,” they explained.
“Why in Merlin’s name didn't you banish them then?” Minerva asked dangerously.
“Did you want us to leave two dementors to freely roam the Forbidden Forest? Or Hogsmead?” they snapped back.
Minerva pressed her lips together and glared but had no reply. Severus was about to suggest leaving them in the great hall when an eerie rasping and rattling sound filled the air. It was coming from one of the dementors. The prisoner tilted their head to listen before making a similar series of noises. The dementors promptly turned and floated back out the doors.
“Wha—? Where are they—?” Minerva stuttered, torn between asking what had just happened and demanding to know where the dementors were going.
“They're going to visit the thestrals since their presence is not welcome here. They will not harm anyone they may find,” the prisoner said. Their voice was rough as if from disuse and there was a strange hiss that undercut his words.
“You speak to them?” Snape asked in disbelief. “I was not aware that dementors had a spoken language.”
For the first time, the prisoner looked up. His hair still covered the right side of his face but what they could see looked young. Too young.
“This is a child!” Pomona exclaimed. The House Heads immediately turned to the aurors demanding an explanation, wanting to know how this happened and asking why they hadn't reported this to the ministry immediately.
Dumbledore tuned them out and studied the prisoner more closely. He was livid that he hadn’t known another Parselmouth existed. Such a dark ability needed to be curbed or they would end up with another Dark Lord. It was good the boy was so young. He could lead him to the Light and use him as a tool against the Dark or keep him as scapegoat if he ever needed one.
Dumbledore's eyes crawled up the boy’s body. He noted that his uniform had been tailored to fit better, that there were no scars visible under his shackles and his hair was messy but not tangled. When he got to the boy’s face he had to force himself not to jump. Their one visible bright green eye was looking right at him as if Dumbledore was a particularly interesting insect.
“What is your name, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, swallowing down his unease. The argument between the professors and the aurors ceased as everyone listened for the answer.
“Hydrus.”
They waited for him to elaborate but Hydrus stayed silent.
“That's the name on his paperwork,” one of the aurors confirmed. “Just Hydrus, no family name. It didn't even say what he was charged with. We're planning a full investigation.”
“You’d better be,” Pomona snarled. People always forget how vicious badgers can be, especially when protecting cubs.
“Did you even confirm he's a Parselmouth?” Filius snapped, his sharp teeth visible through his snarl. In response to his question a low lilting hiss filled the entrance hall causing everyone to focus on Hydrus again.
“So you speak Parseltongue and can talk to dementors. How is it you know two dark languages?” Snape asked. He was finding this boy more intriguing by the second.
“I speak four. I also know Ghukliak and I'm working on Mermish.”
“You call it Ghukliak?” Fillius exclaimed, shocked that a wizard used the proper term for his people’s tongue rather than the insulting Goobbledegook. “Who taught it to you?”
“Augustus Rockwood but I would have preferred a goblin teacher.”
Everyone froze. They hadn't quite realized the implications of Hydrus residing in the High Tower with the Death Eaters.
“And Mermish?” Minerva asked hesitantly. “Who taught you that?”
“The merfolk but it's been slow going. They can't get into the caves below the tower very often because of the rough seas.”
The professor's and aurors gaped at the boy. Not only was he associating with Death Eaters but he was also somehow escaping the High Tower to converse with merpeople? What was going on!?
“Shall we get moving?” Hydrus asked in a casual way that made it obvious he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on the adults. “Don't we have a basilisk to find?”
That finally shook everyone out of their shock. Hydrus and his two guards led the way up the grand staircase. The chains rattled and clanked as he moved but Hydrus didn't seem bothered. The aurors refused to remove them when the House Heads asked, citing the fact that they didn't even know what he had gone to Azkaban for.
Hydrus seemed to know where he was going. He strode through the halls with sure steps, barely stopping to peer into classrooms as they passed. Eventually they reached Ravenclaw Tower and Hydrus paused. He turned toward the stairs ascending to the common room, his visible green eye shining in the dim light of the torches.
“Is something wrong?” Filius asked, concerned for his ravens. Hydrus blinked and shook his head as if clearing it before continuing down the hall without a word.
They had cleared most of the second floor before they got to the library. Hydrus turned to go inside but paused and tilted his head. There was a loud scraping noise and everyone whirled around in time to see a suit of armor slide over to reveal a hidden passage that deposited two redheaded boys into the hall.
“Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!” Minerva exclaimed. “You were ordered to stay in the common room!”
“Sorry professor…” one of them said.
“...punish us if you must.” the other continued.
“But we have a problem…”
“... Ginny is not in the dorms.”
“What do you mean?” Filius squeaked.
“She was there when Professor McGonagall told us to stay…”
“... but she's gone now.”
None of the professor's had ever seen the Weasley twins so frantic. The fact that they had gone for help meant they were truly concerned for their little sister’s safety. As the aurors started asking the twins questions Snape looked over at Albus. If Ginny Weasley had been taken then there was no way he could keep it quiet. She was a pureblood from a Light family. Snape had hoped to see worry or maybe anger in the headmaster’s eyes but all he saw was that damn twinkle.
Then he realized who was missing.
“Hydrus is gone!” he shouted.
Suddenly, the sound of baying hounds could be heard in the distance. Everyone rushed toward the noise and turned the corner only to find a pair of open shackles laying on the ground.