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The Harry Potter universe is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is fanfiction. The standard disclaimers apply.


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Chapter 46: "Hunting the Basilisk"


Tuesday, January 15, 1991


Sirius Black had received a letter from Dora this morning which was currently making him very happy. The news that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and a millenium-old basilisk was loose in the school was bad, of course. But sometimes a crisis was an opportunity, and this one was hilarious.

Something at the back of his mind had bothered him about the "no live poultry" rule, and this was it—it deprived the school of its best defense against Slytherin's monster. The generality of it was quite clever, of course, because it gave it the mundane sound of a city ordinance. No chickens, no open fires, no dogs off leash in the park, don't block traffic by leading your cow to market down Main Street on a Thursday. Straightforward enough, at least in a world without monsters that were vulnerable to chicken noises.

Well, apparently Dumbledore was no idiot, and had immediately suspended the rule. Actually, Dora made it sound like he had been secretly keeping roosters hidden on the grounds somewhere, just in case. Good show. Nevertheless, Hogwarts Castle was a big place, and to fully saturate it with roosters would require quite a few of them. Certainly it would take more than Hagrid could care for discreetly. And it really wasn't something the Board of Governors would spring for, either—Lucius Malfoy was not going to leap at the chance to oppose Salazar Slytherin's plan to rid the school of muggleborns.

Obviously, the civic-minded thing for Sirius to do here was to help out.

He had no idea how one went about acquiring large numbers of roosters without making muggles suspicious, but it seemed like an excellent project for the day.



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"No, really! And so he knocks on the door and asks, 'I don't suppose you've got a basilisk cornered in there, do you? Oh, you're still alive, I guess not, what a pity.' And they're trying to get their clothes back on before Snape opens the door on them!"

Despite the general mood of worry, the flow of gossip did not stop. Certainly, the Great Hall was unusually quiet, but word of last night's incident with Snape and the broom closet had gotten to most of Hufflepuff house by the time lunch came around, and the students were making sure to finish the job there at the table.

Over at the Slytherin table, Rissa snickered, and turned to Sandra. "You heard that, right?" Her friend nodded.

Rissa made a gesture of knocking on a door. "Hellloooo." She made her voice low, drawled out words for emphasis, and tried to sound as scornful as possible. She could do a passable Snape.

Giggling.

"I don't suppose you've got a basilisk in there, do you?"

Sandra took a moment to get it, then kicked herself. "Oh. Oh! Yes. I come out every night to, uh, hunt the basilisk."

"I seeee. Apparently the prospect of detention with me is not enough for you. Oh, don't worry, you will be punished—I'm sure I can think of something . . . suitable."

"Eep!" More giggling.

"And why is it that you can't leave hunting the basilisk to more obviously competent people, like me? Hm?"

"Wait, do you really—er, well, I kind of wanted to do it myself—that was kind of the whole point."

"And did it even cross your mind that you might . . . lack any experience whatsoever?"

Sandra looked indignant, and replied loudly "Hey! I'm not inexperienced!" This got quite a few heads to turn this way, and a few muttered "I bet you're not!"s and "Suuuure"s.

Rissa-Snape continued. "Because obviously that's an appropriate activity for a girl of your age!"

"I'm not too young, either!"

"Perhaps you are not too young to get eaten, too?"

Sandra could barely keep a straight face. "Er, that's, er, a risk I'm willing to take, sir!"

Rissa-Snape sighed. "Of course it is. Well, you better come on out so I can escort you back to your dormitory."

"Oh, no, professor! You see, I do have a basilisk in here with me, but it's dark in here, and you don't want to, uh, meet its gaze."

"You do? Do you have it under control? Do you need help?"

"Oh yes, it's under my control! I mean, it's not Salazar's monster, it's just a little one, I've got it right here in my hand." More snickering. "Oh, well, it's not tiny, I mean, I'm sure it's a perfectly normal size for a basilisk its age . . ."

"Hm. You sound like actually do think you have found one." Now Rissa was starting to lose it. "Well, hee, I think you ought, hee! I mean, I'd really like to, um . . . inspect it myself, just to be sure." She took a deep breath. "If you've got a, hee, firm grip on it, and can do it without hurting yourself, try putting its, eee!, head in something far enough that no one can see it, so I can open the door!"

The other tables couldn't make out what the Slytherins were saying, other than the occasional "basilisk", but they could certainly hear the loud laughter coming from their table. The Slytherins already had a reputation for making fun of the other houses. Given the petrified students—obviously absent from their usual places at meals—and the overall somber mood, the laughter did not go over well.

After their laughter had died down some, conversation continued at the Slytherin table, but it was now nearly impossble to talk about the basilisk with a straight face. Becky Eakins tried, and failed.

"Do you suppose Salazar Slytherin really had a giant basilisk . . . cut it out! Not like that. A giant . . . basilisk . . . now I can't say it. You people are awful! Anyway, why would he leave that behind?"

Sandra snickered. "I think muggleborns are supposed to be especially scared of . . . hee . . big . . . snakes."

"What, so it's unusually scary-looking? I mean, the idea of it, not that you can look at it. You know what I mean. Why not a dragon?"

Rissa looked thoughtful, then said "I think he just liked snakes."

Sandra snickered. "Maybe he thought everyone else liked snakes as much as he did, and meant it as, you know, a nice thing."

"I guess," said Rissa. "Hey Oren! Do you like snakes?"

Oren, who, while laughing along like everyone else, had been trying very hard to stay out of this, looked up from his plate. He had a brief look of panic, as if he were being accused of something, then realized what was going on and sighed.

"Oh, fine. I'll, uh, bite. Like snakes compared to what?"

Rissa wasn't quite fast enough with a comeback, and he was able to continue.

"Like, compared to giant, feathery, ominous black birds that can sort of learn to talk? Or maybe big hairy badgers? I bet Helga Hufflepuff thought everyone loved badgers!"

He was emphasizing the word, just so that it could be made out at the next table over. At first it had seemed only fair, since he was talking about them, sort of, but as it degenerated he realized it sounded like he was picking on them, which, to be fair, he was. Too late! Anyway he had a lot of generalized frustration to burn off, and this was as good an opportunity as any.

Oren kept going. "I bet she had a badger of her own, that went everywhere she did, and slept in her bed with her—they like to burrow down in cozy, warm places, so it was probably in there between her legs all the time . . . I bet when she was alone she sat and stroked it, and people outside the room would hear happy little badger noises!"

The mixed looks of awe, horror, and hilarity were totally worth it.

"Oren!" Becky tried to cut him off, actually diving across another first year to put her over his mouth. Rissa laughed at Becky, but she still felt uncomfortable—she was sure some Hufflepuffs had turned around, since Oren wasn't controlling the volume of his voice very well. Did he know how loud he was?

"MMMMf, no, really! Or do you suppose she kept it in a cage, and walked it on a leash?" Becky had given him up as a lost cause at this point. "Maybe she kept lots of badgers. Did they all keep her warm at night, cheer her up when she was feeling . . . frustrated by Slytherin? I bet she liked to have as many badgers in her bed as possible."

"Oren . . ."

"I mean, maybe it's really amazing to have badgers in your bed. It's not like any of you all would know, right?"

The few Hufflepuffs who had openly turned around, and had looked kind of angry, laughed and backed off a little at that, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Or maybe," Oren continued, "I'd prefer a griffin." Okay, now everyone was looking at him expectantly. He had a good line he had never had the nerve to deliver, and this seemed as good a time as any, since he was already so far off the scale of what a normal eleven-year-old would be saying in response to being sort of picked on.

"A griffin—that's got the head and wings of an eagle, right, and the body of a lion?" Everyone nodded. "And they are supposed to be these majestic creatures, people like keeping pictures of them around and so on, there are stories about them, right?"

There were a few doubtful "yeah . . ."s.

"So that's the front half of a bird and the back half of a big cat." He paused, letting this sink in, then took a deep breath. "So really, a griffin is just a gorgeous chick that people only care about because it's attached to a magnificent pussy."

That was all the courage he had—all his courage for several days or weeks, really—so Oren immediately looked back at his plate and tried to pretend nothing had just happened. A lot of people were trying to get his attention, maybe. He couldn't tell. He ignored them for a bit, and they left him alone. He had just provided them with a rich mine of material for jokes at the expense of the other houses, and that was usually enough to keep Slytherins distracted for a while.

Erwin and Bernard looked like they wanted to say something, but were at a loss for words. He took pity on them, and tried to cover for himself a little.

"Sorry about that," Oren said.

"No, that's okay," said Erwin, "that was awesome, it was just . . ."

"A lot all at once? Yeah. I've kind of been writing some of those jokes in my head all year now, and this seemed like a good time to use them. I mean, they left me alone afterwards, so I think it was okay. At least, okay for me. I hope the Hufflepuffs aren't mad at us all now or something."

"Heh." Bernard laughed. "Don't worry about them. If they give you any trouble, the rest of us will, heh, take care of it."

Oren gave a small smile, still worried about looking too sophisticated. "I'll hold you to that!" Bernard and Erwin laughed. "It would be really nice, if it came to it, actually. I think I used up all my nerve for the year or something saying all that."

"Yeah, right," said Bernard, "you'll just have to restore it by getting some girl in your lap again!"

"Oh, Merlin," Oren said, rolling his eyes at the memory, "that was really weird. I mean, I'd do it again, I guess—who wouldn't, if they could pull it off, right? Still. You know, this has been a pretty good year—better than I expected, coming in."

"Yeah," said Bernard, "if you expected to get girls in your lap, you were either crazy or keeping some secret from us."

"Uh, I don't think there's any trick to it. Huh. Maybe most of the boys our age are trying to act less innocent than they are, and I'm trying to do the opposite?"

"Wait, how innocent are you?" asked Erwin.

"How should I know! I only really have me to compare myself to, since everyone else in this house is faking it in one direction or the other."

Rissa, who apparently was able to keep track of at least four conversations at once, snorted, saying "Oren, you are so not innocent. Nobody is going to forget all that from earlier, and you know we still remember that scene with Angie last fall—Mr. Harry Potter."

"Okay, okay, fine. But, then, wait, right! It's all your fault for leading me on."

She looked puzzled. "Huh? No, it's Angie and Sandra who lead people on, not me."

"No! You know what I mean. Encouraging me. Corrupting me. It's all your fault, since I never would have done it if you hadn't set it all up."

"What, and all that about badgers earlier is my fault, too? I just put it into your brain, with magic or something?"

"Nooo! It's just, you know how sometimes you have a really good line, but it's not the sort of thing you'd ever say? Uh. I guess maybe not you. You just say stuff. But don't most people . . .?"

"Hey, I refrain from saying a few things. I don't think Sandra ever does—"

"Hey!" Sandra complained, catching her name.

"Well, you don't," Rissa said, poking at her friend, "but you're also, like, trying to come up with the most offensive stuff possible and then not refrain from saying it. And it looks like Oren is really good at coming up with it, I guess without really trying, right?" Oren shrugged—he had no idea how to evaluate that. "But then he tries really hard to never, ever say it, unless you get him all worked up."

"Hey, Angie was the one who got him all worked up, not me!"

"Yeah, yeah. But it's like, I don't know, the bucket keeps filling," here Rissa gestured, moving her hand upwards, "until something knocks it over, and it spills everywhere."

Sandra replied without thinking. "I bet it spills everywhere! . . . What?"

Becky tried to elevate the discussion a little, again. "So really, what's the deal with the basilisk? How's it supposed to work?"

"What do you mean?" asked Rissa.

"Well, it's probably Slytherin's, right? I mean, it took down Filch, Mrs. Norris, and a dozen students or whatever. A little one probably couldn't do that, right? Too hard to see it in the dark."

"I guess."

"And it's supposed to only listen to his heir, and it's supposed to get rid of muggleborns or something?"

"And blood traitors," added a boy from down the table. "So really anybody it gets from the other houses is probably a win."

Unfortunately the Hufflepuffs were still listening, and this was followed by yells of "Hey, shut it!". Each side backed up their own, and in short order wands were drawn.

Somewhere down the Hufflepuff table, a few shields went up. Technically, doing magic in the Great Hall was against the rules, but it was hardly ever enforced, since there were so many perfectly legitimate reasons to use it there. But highly visible uses, like the shields, required some sort of response on the part of a teacher.

It took about fifteen seconds before a shimmering wall appeared, separating the two tables and muffling speech between them. It was humming faintly, an indicator of the immense power that went into it. Flitwick was standing with his wand out; shield spells were one of his specialties. Dumbledore, also standing, amplified his voice, shouting "enough!"

The old wizard looked, if not angry, at least mildly irritated. "I recognize that there is a great deal of tension in the air, but I implore you to restrain yourselves. I assure you that you would not enjoy it if you forced me to do the restraining." He then said something to Flitwick in a voice too low to be heard, and returned to his lunch as if nothing had happened. The shield stayed up between the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins for a few more minutes, coming down only when they had each turned back to their respective tables.



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"Shields up!" Tonks had said, as soon as she saw wands drawn down the table from her. The Hufflepuffs sitting next to her didn't need convincing—they trusted her, and she spoke with authority during an obvious minor crisis. Soon there was a network of glowing barriers spreading down the table, as her housemates put up whatever protection spells they knew. In the back of her mind, she noted the wide variety of spells they had chosen, and the inappropriateness of some for the situation at hand. That was something to be dealt with later, though.

"Good. Let's keep them up until the professors notice, and maybe we can make this Dumbledore's problem without looking like we're asking for help." She had very carefully used 'we' there to get her house to go along with her, resisting her urge to talk like an auror. It was something she hadn't noticed the first time around, but Hufflepuff House really did respond better if you treated it like a team.

Once the barrier went up a few seconds later, she took down her protego. "Looks good. Thanks guys," she said, then quieter, "I wasn't sure that trick would work. Let's remember it for next time."

"What about in the halls and such, when the teachers aren't around?" asked a boy near her.

Tonks shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I don't know? Do you think we should make the younger kids practice defense spells? Some of the shields people were picking just now are useless in a fight. Actually, let's talk about this later—I don't want them," indicating the Slytherins, "listening in once Flitwick gets bored." Everyone nodded in agreement.


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"Well, that went poorly," said Oren, after the Headmaster had finished yelling at them. "At least he didn't blame us for starting it."

The Slytherins were not, in fact, very interested in listening in. That would have required them to actually care what the Hufflepuffs had to say to one another.