Beta: Cloudy
Translator (English to Latin): Sam
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
I spent a few more hours on Sunday night guessing different phrases. Then again on Monday night. Then Tuesday. Then Wednesday. It went on and on until Halloween finally arrived and I still couldn't get the damn sink to open up.
I didn't understand. If I remembered correctly Ron was able to open the sink by repeating Open in Parseltongue during the Hogwarts battle. He didn't know Parsletongue so he couldn't have stood there guessing words. What changed? What happened? Did I remember it incorrectly, or was there something else at play?
"'Bout ready to Reducto that sink," I sourly thought.
"How Gryffindor of you."
"Never mind then. I'll figure it out!"
"Your tenacity is amusing. I'll throw you a bone if you bark nicely enough."
"Oh magnificent Tom, the wonderful wizard whom I so adore, would you please kindly throw me a bone? Woof-woof."
His magic recoiled in surprise, and I shared with him an echo of how much I enjoyed listening to him comment on my day-to-day life. I hadn't hidden my affection for him prior, but I hadn't gone out of my way to share it either. Threat level aside he has some great commentary that made daily life more amusing.
Not that I felt particularly threatened by the boy anymore. Considering how well my mind palace was working I felt confident I could forcefully expel him if he ever tried to take over.
I did have a few more failsafes in place of course. I wrote to Kreacher every week and if that ever stopped or if my hidden code in the letters stopped appearing Kreacher knew to go straight to Dumbledore. Iris was warned beforehand to alert Kreacher if I acted out of character, and if I ever made a move to hurt my brother she'd restrain me.
I had more, those were only a couple.
It made it easier to relax. Not to the point of dropping suspicion, but enough to give him as sincere a chance as possible.
I was going to be a doctor in my previous life. I was trained to look at each patient with the least amount of prejudice as possible. Admittedly, there were certain types of people I would have a strong bias against—I was only human, after all—but that didn't mean my actions had to convey that bias. Initials thoughts did not have to be acted upon, but rather, I could choose how I behaved and treated others no matter how I feel about them.
Tom looking so young and different than the monster I had seen on that horrible night helped differentiate him from Voldemort. Compartmentalizing emotions came as second nature to me, so my initial bias was easy to shove down. I wanted to look at him as I would any other teenaged boy who would come into my office with a troubled past.
From that mindset, it was actually pretty easy to come to like Tom. He was quick-witted, silver-tongued, and his befuddlement for my generation was rather endearing.
I wondered if my ability to empathize with supposed villains would have made me a good or bad doctor.
Oh well. I'd never know.
"That—That is acceptable. Do you know when Hogwarts was founded?"
"990 a.d."
"What language was spoken around then?"
"L-Latin?"
"You're off a couple of centuries. British Latin died out in 700 a.d."
"Wait is there a difference between Latin and British Latin?"
"Yes. In the first century of a.d. Latin became established in the south of England. Over time, it developed into a distinct form of Latin. It can be traced in loanwords into British Celtic. This was displaced by Old English around 500 a.d. through the immigration and land-taking of Anglo-Saxons."
"S-So then it's Anglo-Saxon?"
"You're thinking of West Saxon, or Old English."
"Then that means... the password is in Old English?"
"There are words that do not have modern English equivalents, and therefore must be spoken as Old English."
"But Parseltongue is a whole other language. How can I need a separate language inside a separate language?"
"Parseltongue is a magical language, not a common tongue one," Tom corrected me. "You speak English and English is what the snakes will hear."
"Can a snake speak a different language?"
"Some, yes. It depends on the magical environment they are born in. A hydra born in Germany, for example, will speak German."
Whoa, I thought. That was pretty cool. But then I noticed he didn't answer my question. "Okay... so the password is in Old English?"
"No."
"Wha—Tom!"
Tom seemed to be smirking at me, his magic was delightfully jumpy when smug. "I hoped you wouldn't have caught that I didn't answer your question and spent a month trying Old English."
"You're lucky I like you so much mister or I might be cross with you. What language is it in?"
"Latin."
"Why?"
"Salazar Slytherin believed all of his descendants should learn Latin because it is considered the ideal language for spellcrafting."
I stopped what I was doing and immediately went into my mind palace. Tom Riddle was still on the island. He was laid out and relaxed as he admired the view in the sky above. He sat up when I appeared, his lips curled into a perfectly practiced coy smile as his eyes danced with mirth. His expression conveyed teasing, and for once it matched his magic. Okay, well, his magic might have had a bit of a meaner (cough sadistic cough) tint to his teasing, but it was progress!
Progress, I say!
"There's only one thing to do for ornery little butt heads like you," I said as I wagged my finger.
"Oh?"
"Yep." I proceeded to sit beside him and pull him into a tight hug. "Every time you're a jerk, you owe me a hug."
He had stiffened immediately upon contact before he quickly pushed me off him. I didn't resist, pulling away and giving him a big cheeky grin. He kept his angelic poker face, but his magic was darkened and furious. It coiled beside mine, quivering from surprise to anger.
I wasn't going to enforce physical contact willy-nilly, but I had to do something otherwise he'd keep bullying me. Eventually, our relationship would switch to a fight for dominance where Tom wouldn't feel relaxed until he held the power. It wouldn't be healthy, and it would certainly be impossible to maintain a genuine friendship like I had with Fenrir.
He had no experience to handle a healthy relationship. He was not disciplined appropriately, nor did he receive praise for the good he did.
Criticizing him too early on would only result in him shutting me out either due to his own trauma or narcissism. Hurting him was a big no for the same reason. I wasn't in any immediate danger like I was with the snake babehs, so I felt no rush or urgency to establish our relationship.
I had to gently reprimand him for being a brat while showing him affection as to not trigger him.
The best solution I could come up with was expressions of love through physical contact. Nothing I wouldn't do for my dear Harry or any other fragile child under my care.
Tom was in that weird spot where he was both a child and technically older than me. Living longer didn't equate to emotional maturity, after all. Intellectually he surpassed me, but emotionally he was little better than a traumatized toddler. Certainly had the ego of one.
As the more emotionally mature one between us, I was obligated to treat him with care. I knew, from personal experience and as a medical student, how impactful such care could be.
Assuming he wasn't already an irredeemable psychopath. But that's what I was there to find out!
"You think a hug will stop me?" his tone conveyed nothing of the disdain his magic had.
"Stop you? No. Nothing will stop you when you put your mind to something," I gently said—his magic stilled at my words. "But it's what I'm owed. If a cutie patootie is gonna poke fun at me, that cutie patootie better be prepared to give me a condolence hug."
Tom Riddle's magic wavered. It felt as if he had become a fog of disbelief and suspicion. He scooted away from me, warily watching me as if I were about to attack him at any moment. I patiently waited for his response; several minutes went by.
He finally broke eye contact from me and looked away. "... Susurrar. It's Latin and the best translation would be: to whisper."
"Thank you, Tom."
"You're welcome, Rosie."
"Do you want another hug?"
"Get out."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
With the provided password I was able to open the sink as soon as I hissed out, "Susurrar."
No noise was made as the slink rose up into the air to reveal a wide and dark pit below.
"Iris," I hissed out and Iris slithered out from under my collar to make herself big enough for me to ride on her. With ease, she floated—occamy did not use their wings to fly, they used magic to do so; their wings were to guide—us down into the pit.
"Can you smell the snake?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Remember the plan?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Good girl."
Iris flew us through the sewers and straight into the heart of the chambers.
I had anticipated a certain stench, you know, being in sewers. I had steeled my nerves in preparation for what was to come but I was so very pleasantly surprised that it did not in fact reek of shit and piss. If anything, it smelled like the lake out by Hogwarts.
And pines.
I didn't know how, but the Chamber of Secrets had a very subtle scent of pines.
10/10, the best smell ever.
The sewers were long and dark. Frankly, I couldn't see my hand in front of me so I had to conjure the bluebell fires into the palm of my hands in order to see. The stones were black and tiled, and despite how old I knew they were they looked brand spanking new. We flew through the dark tunnels for a few minutes before they opened up to the Chambers.
It... wasn't as similar to the movies as I expected. The stones were pitch black and it was hard to make out Salazar Slytherin's face in the stone work. There were torches lined up all along the wall that were lit with a cool blue-green flame. The water from the sewers went into canals that ran on the outskirts of the chambers. There was no pool of water by Salazar's face, only pristine black tiles.
On the right and on the left of Salazar's face I could see two dark tunnels with no light. They were too small to make me think they were connected to the sewers, and at a glance, I wondered if they were built in hallways to lead to other rooms?
Iris dropped me off in front of the mouth. I pulled out the rooster from my expandable bag and handed it to her. She wrapped the end of her tail around its mouth—careful not to block its nostrils—and floated up to the top of the head. If the basilisk made any move to kill me, she would release the rooster and squeeze it until it let out a caw to kill it.
I had to rely on her judgment since I would keep my eyes closed while greeting the basilisk.
This password, I at least knew with absolute certainty.
"Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin."
I couldn't see much of anything since I started to squeeze my eyes shut. I listened to the stones move to let me know that password had worked. There were several seconds of tense silence before I heard the basilisk leave its den. It slid across the slick stone floor, a deep rumbling growl in its throat.
"Heir," it greeted me, its voice gravelly. It was deep enough I thought it was a male voice, but I couldn't be too certain.
"Greetings," I said, feeling it near me and sniffing.
"Your magic... strong. Good... Old... yes... Strong heir. Smell like older heir? Older heir with you?"
"In a way," I answered after a moment of hesitation.
"Time to hunt? Have... have the Muggles come to attack? Are thou 'i danger?"
The switch from you to thou had me confused.
"It only knew Latin and Old English," Tom explained quietly to me.
"Did you teach it modern?"
Tom's magic shifted. I had not yet accused him of being the previous heir, nor had it brought it up. Tom knew I wasn't slow, and the basilisk had already mentioned how I smelt like the older heir. It wouldn't take rocket science for Tom to assume I had discovered he was the heir.
"Teach is not the word I would describe. Basilisks are capable of absorbing magic—it's how they can survive so long without consuming flesh. When absorbing the magic of a wizard it can retain some of its knowledge."
"That's amazing!"
"It's one of the main reasons why Slytherin chose the basilisk to remain. It's the only species that could live indefinitely in Hogwarts and adapt to any language the descendants might learn to speak."
"I am not in danger," I told the basilisk. "The war against the Muggles has ended. The witch hunts are over."
"You are safe?"
"Yes."
The basilisk sniffed me once more. "I shall hie back to sleep. Praesidium cum requires, me suscita, Salutem tenebo."
"I'm going to have to learn Latin and Old English aren't I?"
"Yes."
"Stop," I told the basilisk who—from what it sounded like—had started to turn away. It paused upon my order. "I brought you food."
"Food?" It sniffed the air. "... Snake?"
"Not her. She is my familiar," I told the basilisk. "Close your eyes and I will pull out what I have purchased for you."
I counted to thirty, then opened my eyes.
The basilisk was a dead ringer for the one out of the movies. It was dark mossy green with ridges reminiscent of a dragon atop its head. Its eyes were closed shut, and while I could not see its fangs—for it kept its mouth closed—I could easily imagine that they were bigger than my arms and coated in sticky black venom.
I reached out a hand and placed it on its snout, its hot breath washing over me.
Big babeh snake.
In my messenger bag, I summoned the dozens of carcasses I had ordered from a butcher shop.
"The meat is cold. Would you like me to warm it up?" I offered the basilisk once I finished laying everything on the stone floor.
The basilisk sniffed at the nearest butchered cow. "Noli fac."
Then it proceeded to eat everything, each piece only taking one gulp to get down. While he ate, I took that time to re-examine the chambers.
"Are there any other rooms here?" I asked both Tom and the basilisk.
"Salazar kept subsecivia cellae."
I flushed, trying to think up of what subsecivia cellae was.
"Spare rooms."
"Oh."
"The older heir could not find them," the basilisk told me as it gobbled up a pig. "Illas nolebat conabatur inveniunt, facias."
"Note to self: order flashcards and Latin guide ASAP."
"Flashcards?"
Once it—although the more I heard it speak the more I started to think of it as a he—finished eating he turned his head to me and hissed out, "Call and I will come."
The basilisk flipped his head around and slithered back into the hole to slumber.
"Welp," I said out loud while clapping my hands. "Let's learn us some Latin first, then come back and explore. I've got a feeling all the hidden rooms will have Latin passwords."
"Most definitely."
With sincere gratitude, I shared my happiness with Tom. "Thank you, Tom. This was fun, and it was made all the more delightful by your presence."
Tom's magic wavered as if he had faltered in his thought process.
"You are welcome, Rosie."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Latin wasn't going to be a fun thing to learn. Outside of English, I only knew French and German—Remus and Sirius insisted on Harry and I knew those two languages. I had a feeling it was a backup plan in case we had to flee, so I wasn't at a complete disadvantage.
It had been said that it was easier to learn a new language if one already knew multiple; but I had no teacher, and that was such an important thing when learning a language. Books only taught the grammar and written version of it. There was no one who could correct my pronunciation. There were text-to-speak spells that could help me hear the words but that wouldn't be enough.
"Does anyone here know Latin?" I asked my babeh snakes study group in our gothic common room.
They all shook their heads. Daphne frowned. "My father does. Do you need something translated?"
"Tragically, I must learn it."
"Why?"
"Keep it between us," I said, which instantly made all the second year babeh snakes lean in excitedly as they promised to do exactly that. "I found the Chamber of Secrets."
Draco excitedly gasped like the little kid he was. "Father said that would happen this year! You're the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Yes and no," I answered. "I am a Parselmouth so I have inherited the ability to access the Chamber, but I would not consider myself the true heir."
"Are you going to unleash the monster?" Theodore dubiously asked.
"No," I answered with a head shake. "Well. Okay I already did, but it went back to sleep. I need to learn Latin to speak with it."
"Ooooh," they all said as if that made sense.
"It would be ancient, wouldn't it?" Daphne mused.
"Didn't Latin die out before Hogwarts, though?" Tracey questioned.
"Apparently Slytherin felt the need that all of his descendants knew Latin." I shrugged. "There are some secrets in the Chambers I'm willing to bet are hidden behind Latin passcodes, too."
"If Slytherin wanted all of his descendants to learn Latin, shouldn't that be taught at Hogwarts?" Millicent quietly asked. "At the—at the very least, shouldn't Slytherins be taught it?
"That's brilliant, Millie!" I praised the girl, eliciting a blush. She may have been bigger than Vincent and Gregory, but she was the daintiest out of all of us sometimes. She also had the cutest little giggle, too. "You know what, I'm going to go to Professor Dumbledore's office right now and see if he can set up a teacher for next year."
"But it's almost curf—"
"It cannot wait," I declared firmly, putting away my textbook and dashing out the common room. "See you guys later!"
It took a solid five minutes of straight jogging to make it to Professor Dumbledore's office. Hogwarts was a huge castle and I had to run from the dungeons to the opposite side of it and climb seven flights of stairs.
If I wasn't in shape it would've been a nightmare. Still had me out of breath by the time I reached the gargoyle. In between gasps of air I started to list random sweets that might be his password. "Lemon drop, dowickle, bungee gum, chocolate, candy, sweets, fairy floss, cotton candy, snickers, snickerdoodles, chocolatechip, chips, strawberry, chocolate covered strawberries, lollipops—"
The gargoyle swung back.
Whoa, it really was candy related? Really?
With a shrug I hopped onto the gargoyle staircase and it spun me around as it took me up. I stepped off it when it reached Professor Dumbledore's office.
His office was lovely. Magic filled the air, cram-packed, and vibrating from intensity because of all the artifacts he had scattered about it. It was a bit suffocating, actually. Hogwarts' magic was like having a wool blanket on me. Professor Dumbledore's office was having Sirius throw that big ass unicorn on top of me again.
Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, some paperwork spread out before him that I couldn't accurately read upside down. Some words I recognized—mainly Wizengamot—but what they were about was a total mystery.
"Hello Grandpa," I said, then gasped and blushed when I realized I accidentally called him Grandpa due to my flustered state. "Sorry! I adopted you as my grandpa in my head, it just slipped out."
Professor Dumbledore laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. "How flattering, Miss Potter. What can I help you with this evening?"
"So I need to learn Latin and I was talking with my bab—I mean my peers and we realized that Latin should be an optional class at Hogwarts. We were hoping we could set up an elective for it."
"And what brought this on, Miss Potter?" Professor Dumbledore kindly inquired.
"I found the Chamber of Secrets and I want to talk with the basilisk inside but it keeps talking in Latin."
"Oh." Professor Dumbledore blinked twice before he took off his half-moon spectacles. There was a long pause as the headmaster processed what exactly I had said out loud.
I had always wondered what his initial reactions would be to that revelation. Dumbledore was known to be eccentric genius. Many of his actions in the canonical story had hidden meanings that could only be spotted years later or after multiple rereads. His intentions typically aligned with the Light, so I was not afraid of him harming me. He certainly didn't strike me as the sort of man to attack a child without an extremely good reason. Even when Draco was about to murder the man, he calmly tried to talk him down for Draco's sake.
There was little reason to hide the fact that I found the Chambers. If I was able to properly explore it, I'd honestly prefer I did it with Dumbledore and a team of people he trusted. The man would be far better at spotting hidden traps Salazar left than I did. That being said, I didn't want to needlessly risk the Professor Dumbledore fighting the basilisk of the Chambers.
I was expendable, he was not. If I died fighting the basilisk, then I knew Dumbledore would carry on with the story fine and dandy.
If Dumbledore died?
I mean I wasn't going to run away or anything, but gosh that'd make things so much harder. If Voldemort were ever prematurely resurrected he'd have no reason not to target Hogwarts right off the bat. I hadn't cleaned out the government yet which meant that it'd become compromised within a year or two...
Ugh. I was clever, but not clever enough to come up with a situation to deal with that. Dumbledore was the best Voldemort deterrent we had on hand. There was no good reason to risk putting his life in danger, nor did I have any desire to try and explain why exactly I was already carrying a rooster. I didn't have the confidence to try and bullshit my way through a conversation with Professor Dumbledore.
If he caught me lying, it'd only make the situation worse for me in the long run—at least that was the instinctive gut feeling I had.
Ergo: be as truthful as can be when with Dumbledore, but not so truthful to reveal all the future information I had.
Professor Dumbledore recovered after another minute. "Oh. I see. This is a wonderful find, Miss Potter."
Wow. No questions?
"Yeah. I don't want to leave him there indefinitely, so I'll have to talk to Paddy about making a spot for him at home," I said quietly, mostly to myself. It was hard to fight the urge to ask Dumbledore why he wasn't asking me more questions. I didn't want him to ask me questions, so I was afraid if I asked him he'd start asking me. I was prepared for it, but if he was going to let me drop that bomb without repercussions then I wasn't going to go looking for consequences. "Hm."
"Keeping a basilisk as a pet is usually illegal," Professor Dumbledore politely informed me as he began to clean his spectacles with a handkerchief.
"Usually?"
"One must acquire a license."
"How does one do that?"
"A N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures for starters."
"Any exceptions?"
"Not in recent memory."
"Hmmm... What if he... hmmm... hmm..." I genuinely couldn't see a way around that without pulling out my alias to push some political power. I could do it, but it'd be a waste of the favors I had already won over.
Professor Dumbledore smiled at me. "Perhaps it would be best if the basilisk were to remain in the Chambers until you graduate? I'm sure you'll be able to obtain the license."
"Oh, would that be okay?" I asked, surprised. "I know he, uh, he's a bit on the lethal side."
"It is my understanding that the monster of Slytherin will not attack without provocation. You will not provoke it?"
"Not unless a crazy witch in pink tortures my twin brother into writing I must not tell lies with his own blood," I promised him. "Only in that specific scenario will I unleash him. You have my word."
"That is oddly specific."
"That is oddly specific, Miss Potter," Professor Dumbledore noted, his smile curled a bit wider in amusement. "Care to share?"
"A terrible nightmare I had," I told him. "It was dreadful. I vowed to destroy any sadistic lady who dresses in pink and has pictures of cute kitty cats in her office while torturing students. Such evil should not exist."
"I pray such evil never appears in Hogwarts."
"Me, too."
"In the meantime," Professor Dumbledore said with a feathery tone, "given the circumstances, it might be best to seek tutelage. I will see if the board will be interested in adding an elective."
"Oh they will be. I'll tell my snakes to write to their parents," I said cheerfully.
"How helpful."
"Know any good tutors in Latin at Hogwarts?"
"One does come to mind."
"Thanks, Grandpa. You're the best."
Professor Dumbledore shook his head in amusement while he chuckled.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Bucket List Completed:
29. See if basilisk will become a Good Boy™ or Dead Boy™.
ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ
Interesting to see how people on different sites reacted to Tom / Fenrir.
Wattpad: hELL YEAH!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
Ao3: She's insane, we LOVE IT! (✪㉨✪)
Fanfic: WOO (ó㉨ò)ﾉ♡ or I Don't Like. (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻
Y'all a buncha cuties.
(☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞
Dumbledore has his reasons. He always has his reasons. Future re-readers will know.
I have my own theories on Parseltongue and the Chambers. I feel like someone as cunning as Salazar wouldn't choose open as the main password, since it was canonically shown through Ron that anyone can learn Parsletongue. But I do feel like there ought to be a way for an heir to change the passwords after unlocking the Chambers.
And maybe an heir decided to do exactly that to make it easier to trick a certain hero into stumbling into his trap.
See you next week!
Answer: If I was a pure-blood then Chamber of Secrets would be fine. If not, Philosopher Stone would probably be the safest one. Tourney would be great if I was an older witch with a talent for magic.
Question: What's another language you wish you could learn?
Reviews are love!