No Fortress Is So Strong, Chapter 15
Title: No Fortress Is So Strong
Summary: In 1981, the two Potter sons had their fates switched, and Nicolas Potter became a famous face. But there are those who know the truth, that the real Chosen One was the younger child. The Slytherin. Now, two brothers share a destiny.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes & Caveats: This is a rewrite of the fanfiction story Slytherin Serpent. The premise was originally thought up in 2004, rewritten in 2006, and rewritten again in 2009. This is the only complete version.
This chapter is as yet unbeta’ed for spelling, grammar, and brit-picking. I apologize for this in advance. If you spot any error, no matter how small, please tell me in a review so that I can fix it.
Many thanks to Micah, who examined this story for plot and continuity errors.
“When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life.” ~Antisthenes
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Chapter Fifteen: Guessing Games
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“So we should start with magical rocks then, I guess,” Nick said glumly. “And we don’t even know if this has anything to do with someone wanting to kill me.”
“Good a chance as any,” Harry replied calmly. “But if it’s guarding something, it must be really powerful, right?”
“Or valuable,” Hermione interjected.
“Or valuable,” Harry conceded, smirking at her. “So we should look for precious stones and magical rocks, I guess. I’d try to find the most powerful and/or valuable stone in the world and see if it’s that.”
“Good lord,” Jon groaned. “This is just grasping at straws, here.”
“I’m going to find out who’s trying to kill my brother,” Harry growled. “You don’t have to help, Bonham.”
“No, no, I’m helping,” Jon said hastily. “Tell me what to do.”
“All right,” Hermione said, taking charge, “here’s what we’re going to do. Katie and Nick, start with old legends and children’s stories; try to find anything about a stone, but don’t rule out rocks, jewels, or gems. Harry, you’re good at potions, aren’t you? You can try to find any stones that are used for potions. Jon, you and I can focus on famous magical artifacts. All right?”
“Right,” they all chorused, and separated to do their tasks. Muttering to himself under his breath, Harry made his way to the potions section, pulling a roll of parchment from his bag. He turned the corner into the main aisle for books on potions and stopped in his tracts.
“Nott,” Harry said in surprise, and the hunched boy looked up at him.
“Potter,” he replied neutrally. Harry stood there, indecisive, before shrugging mentally and moving forward.
“Studying for potions?” he asked lightly as he ran his fingertips along the spines of the thick tomes.
“Independent study,” Nott murmured.
“You like potions then?” Harry asked curiously, realizing he knew next to nothing about his dorm mate even after more than half a year at school, sleeping in the same room.
“My best subject,” Nott said, nodding. “I’m top of the year in potions, even over Malfoy and Granger, and I’d like to stay there.”
“Really?” Harry asked, thinking he should pay attention to the rank status of his year. “Well, congratulations then.” Nott nodded, turning back to peruse the book in his hands. Harry shook himself and went back to his own task.
Two dusty, fruitless hours later, Harry returned to the table with a dry throat and nothing concrete to contribute. He’d listed several stones used for potion making on his parchment, but further study had concluded that none of them were particularly powerful or intrinsically valuable in any way. Frustrated, Harry offered up his parchment but didn’t contribute to the conversation.
“I found a list of possibilities,” Hermione was saying when he slumped into his chair, “but nothing concrete. The Fidel’s Stone is the most likely one, I think, but it’s been missing for nearly four hundred years. How about you, Harry?”
“Nothing,” Harry said, shaking his head. Hermione nodded, looking disappointed.
“Nick?”
Nick and Katie were less dust covered than the others, having spent their time in the story section rather than boring history and potions.
“Yeah,” Nick said, flipping open a slim leather-bound book. Harry caught a glimpse of the embossed golden title, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. “These are wizarding fairytales,” Nick said, and Harry leaned forward in interest. “There’s a story in here called The Tale of the Three Brothers,” Nick continued, and flipped the book around so the others could read it. There was a funny symbol beneath the elaborately decorated title - a circle inside a triangle, bisected by a straight, vertical line.
“But these are just fairytales,” Jon protested. “Like that story you were telling me about, Nick - Snow Flake or something.”
“Snow White,” Nick corrected, “and I’m just showing you what I found.”
“Well,” Harry said impatiently, “what did you find?”
“It’s something called the Resurrection Stone,” Nick explained, pointing at the relevant text. “It’s supposed to be one of three magical artifacts that these three brothers cheat out of the devil, or maybe not the devil, they call it Death, but it’s supposed to let you see people who have died. Not bring them back, the story is very clear on that, but make it so you can see and talk to them.”
“Might be tempting,” Hermione said, interested. “Well done, Nick!”
“Thanks,” Nick said, flushing pink. Hermione reached out and pulled the book towards her, skimming the short tale.
“If this is real, it’s very likely,” she murmured, running a finger along the text.
“It’s a fairytale,” Jon said helplessly. “You don’t think Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump is based on truth, do you?”
“Er, well,” Nick said sheepishly.
“It’s our best bet right now,” Harry said. “So let’s see what we have. I know that Quirrell was trying to kill Nick, and if he’s the one who wants the Stone, what can he hope to do with it? It says you can’t actually bring people back, right?”
“But it’s a fairy tale,” Jon stressed, leaning forward. “Don’t you understand? Even if the story is based on a legend, which is based on a true story, it would have been written in mind for kids. Cadmus went mad, didn’t he? There’s obviously something sinister going on with the Resurrection Stone, even if we don’t know what it is.”
“You think it actually can bring people back from the dead?” Katie asked, her voice hushed and alarmed. “Jon, you don’t think…”
“Yeah, I think,” Jon said grimly. “If this is true, then I think Quirrell - or whoever - is trying to resurrect You-Know-Who.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Nick whispered.
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Several weeks later, in mid April, Harry got into a confrontation with Malfoy.
“Half-blood Potter, the Mudblood’s friend!” Malfoy taunted as soon as Harry entered the common room. Harry flashed the other boy a scowl.
“You didn’t think we’d seen, did you Potter?” Malfoy sneered.
“Seen what?” Harry demanded. He could see Zabini on the settee furthest from the fire, and was anxious to reach him, but Malfoy was standing in front of him now to ensure Harry’s attention was firmly on him, blocking his way.
“You, fraternizing with the Mudblood girl in Ravenclaw,” Malfoy sneered. “With the enemy.”
“Look who you’re talking to, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “A half-blood!”
“I don’t even know why you were allowed in Slytherin,” Malfoy said disgustedly. “People like you shouldn’t even be in Hogwarts.”
“Funny,” Harry retorted, “but I could say the same about you.”
“What is going on, here?”
Neither boy had heard the wall open, much less the soundless footsteps of their Head-of-House.
“Sir!” Malfoy said, backing up a step. “Oh, it’s nothing, we were just discussing magic.”
“Magic,” Snape said, drawing out the word. “Magic, as in magical blood?”
“Er…well…” Malfoy stammered.
“Silence,” Snape hissed. “Or be it on your head, boy! Do not lie to me!”
Malfoy fell silent with a gulp.
“We do not hold stock in blood here, inside Slytherin’s walls,” Snape snarled, talking to the entire common room. “We are Slytherins, because we are ambitious, and cunning, and we are intelligent! We are Slytherins, and Slytherins stand by each other. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, you both have detention. There will be no blood talk between Slytherins.”
“But he was fraternizing with the Mudblood girl from Ravenclaw!” Malfoy whined. “All the Professors love her, they think she’s so brilliant! She’s nothing but a Muggle! And he was sitting in the library with her all cozy, sucking up to her…”
“I suck up to no one!” Harry retorted loudly. “Unlike you…”
“Silence!” Snape roared, and they both obeyed. “That’s a week’s worth of detention for both of you…yes Potter, even you! You retorted in kind, didn’t you? I’ll not have it! If I hear that either one of you takes this outside Slytherin walls it will be a lot more than a week’s detention…I’ll see you suspended.”
Malfoy gaped.
“You can’t!” he said shrilly. “My father…”
“Is. Not. Here,” Snape said, low and threatening. Malfoy shut his mouth with a click of his teeth. Snape straightened. “That goes for all of you,” he said, louder. “Keep your disagreements within Slytherin or you will not like the consequences, and there will be no blood talk about any of the half-bloods in Slytherin. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Professor Snape,” the other students chorused, subdued.
“You will both receive a letter detailing your detentions,” Snape said, looking down at both cowed first years. Harry nodded, staring at his shoes. “Dismissed,” Snape said disgustedly. Harry turned and made a beeline straight for Zabini, scowling.
“You shouldn’t have said anything,” Zabini said indifferently. Harry flushed.
“What, you expect me to take that lying down?” he hissed in disbelief. Zabini grinned broadly.
“No, and I’m glad you didn’t. Serves that little suck-up right. But that doesn’t change what you should have done.”
“I won’t lay down and be stomped on by a little pretty boy with a rich father,” Harry spat. “But you’re right. Next time, I’ll get revenge.”
“That’s talking Slytherin,” Zabini said approvingly.
“Unlike him,” said another voice. “Merlin, if his father and mine weren’t friends, and if Lucius Malfoy couldn’t give us a world of hurt, I’d hex him into mush.”
Harry and Zabini looked up curiously. Theodore Nott stood there, tall and spare and weedy, with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He carried his head and neck forward, like some sort of bird, and his stringy brown hair hung just above his shoulders. He blinked at them from dark-ringed eyes, mouth twisted to the side bitterly. He looked like life had dealt him a bad hand.
“Nott,” Zabini said, neutrally. “Sit down?”
“Thank you, I will,” Nott said, hooking a chair with his foot and pulling it over. “Potter,” he nodded, and Harry nodded back amiably.
“Chess?” Harry asked, pulling the board closer. Nott looked up in surprise.
“Yes,” he said, slowly. “All right.”
Zabini looked on in interest.
“Maybe he’ll beat you, Potter,” Zabini said hopefully.
“Maybe,” Harry said, nodding. Then he grinned, a flash of wicked delight. “He can try.”
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At the beginning of May, Nick sat down at Gryffindor and beckoned to Harry, who was already seated at the Slytherin table. Harry rose to his feet and headed across the Hall towards his brother.
“You’re friends with Hagrid, right?” Nick asked in a low voice, and Harry blinked in surprise, then shrugged.
“Sure,” he said, not entirely truthfully - Hagrid was more of an information source. “Why?”
“There was a ruckus last night,” Nick explained. “We saw it out the common room window. A bunch of people went to Hagrid’s hut at around midnight, and there were lots of bright flashes and stuff. His hut started burning too, but they put it out.”
“What happened?” Harry asked curiously, thinking that Hermione would want to know. Nick shrugged.
“Who knows?” he asked. “Thought you might...it might be, you know.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding. “You should go tell Hermione. She’ll want to know.
Chapter Sixteen