Chapter Text
Despite having had access to the snake books and scrolls from Voldemort, tutelage from both Voldemort and Tom, and plenty of thunderstorms this spring and summer, Harry had not yet been successful with the Animagus process. Tom was insistent that it was a mental block causing the issue.
“Unless you can accept that you might not be a snake, you’ll be preventing yourself from success.”
“No! I will be a snake even if I have to break the rules to be one!”
“You can’t just break the rules of magic. That’s not how it works. If you make changes to the Animagus ritual, whatever you become is no longer your Animagus form but some odd kind of self-transfiguration.”
“Why does that matter? And also, I have broken the rules before, but nobody came after me about it.”
“Explain.”
“Well, Voldemort said nobody enforces Gamp’s law or laws like gravity, so sometimes I make food out or nothing or float.”
There was a long pause before Tom replied.
“Fine. Keep trying, but you really should think about the mental block.”
Harry huffed slightly, setting the diary down.
“Hmmm… Big sigh,” Bob hissed from Harry’s nightstand, where he was feeding mud pies to the Piranha Plant.
“Yeah, Tom says I have a mental block which is stopping me from getting anywhere with the Animagus ritual.”
“A mental block, hmm… You must topple the block.”
“Right, but how do I do that?”
“Perhaps Mind Arts.”
“I guess. Maybe we should go to the library.”
“Yesss… Books on Mind Arts are in the Restricted Section. Should use your pass.”
Harry hadn’t actually made use of his pass, given that he got all the snake books he needed from Voldemort, so it was nice to have something to use it for. Scooping Bob up and waving goodbye to Chompy, he made his way to the library.
The Restricted Section was just like the rest of the library, except that you had to pass through an arch barred with a velvety rope to get to it. Though it looked like a simple thing, it was enchanted to keep anyone without a pass out. Harry tentatively approached the rope, then decided to limbo under for style points.
“Very nice,” Bob approved.
Harry was pleased that nothing had happened. Something in the back of his mind had been wondering whether Snape had given him a fake pass, though he was unsure what would actually happen if you tried to get in without a real pass. He’d have to ask later.
The books in the Restricted Section seemed to be organised by topic. Looking at the books nearest to him, Harry could see that they were all about Runes, with titles including ‘Warding Oneself – The Art of Inscribing One’s Bones’, ‘Runes and Warfare: A Practical Guide’, and ‘Runes for Lovers’. Hmm…
Wandering further down the shelves, he spotted books on metallurgy, which turned into a section on the creation of weaponry. He was intrigued, so picked up a book about smithing swords and popped it into his bag.
“Set me on this shelf,” Bob hissed, pointing with his tail to a shelf containing books about demons.
Harry dutifully placed Bob on the shelf, huffing out a little laugh as he pressed his snout against the spine and focused. He sometimes forgot that Bob had learned to read via osmosis, or whatever it was.
Meandering a little further into the Restricted Section, Harry finally stumbled upon the Mind Arts shelves. Tilting his head sideways a little, he started reading the titles. Some sounded incredibly boring, like ‘Breathing Techniques for Mental Peace’, ‘The Best Creatures to Count for Easy Sleep’, and ‘Watching Paint Dry: Tolerance Training for Life’s Tedium’.
Others seemed neat, like the book with no title that instead had a picture of a man with no face staring into a handheld mirror, or the very wordily titled ‘What To Watch For If You Suspect Someone Is Reading Your Thoughts, How To Prevent Thought-Stealing, And Why Anyone Would Want To Do That In The First Place’. Harry put both of them into his satchel and kept looking, until he found something which seemed promising.
‘Mending the Mind: Snapping Out of Unhelpful Thought Patterns’. He supposed a mental block could be an unhelpful thought pattern. He popped the book into his bag and walked off to find Bob, who was wrapped around Ars Goetia with his face pressed against the cover.
“Read anything interesting?”
“Yesss… there is a demon called Astaroth who has a snake in his hand. He teaches people maths and science, answers anything you ask him, can make you invisible, lead you to treasure, and give you power over snakes. Do not know if that means Parseltongue or some kind of control.”
“He sounds like he would be fun to talk to… Does it say how you can talk to him?”
“Hmm… Should maybe ask Voldemort about that first.”
“Oh, yeah, he would probably have some good ideas.”
“Also, might be worried if you talk to strange men with power over snakes. You and I are snakes. Could be risky.”
“Oh… Good point! Definitely gonna ask Voldemort about him…”
“Most excellent… Let’s pick up this other book before we leave,” Bob hissed, pointing with his tail.
“Runes for Lovers?” Harry asked, grimacing slightly.
“Yessssss…”
“Whatever that is, it’s probably not built with snakes in mind.”
“Love will find a way.”
Bob was so optimistic that Harry was sure it would.
After making his way back to the dorm, Harry flopped onto the bed and opened Mending the Mind. Skimming through it, it seemed like the first section was all about identifying unhelpful thoughts.
“If you find yourself plagued with thoughts about others judging you, for instance, ‘They think I’m a failure and that I will never amount to anything’, remind yourself that unless you are a Legilimens and have ripped these negative thoughts from their minds yourself, any thoughts you ascribe to another are actually your own thoughts. If you find yourself with such negative thoughts about yourself, first identify that you have made these thoughts up and are thinking about yourself in an unhelpful way. Then, realise that it is cruel to the ones dear to you to assume that they would be unkind to you. For the vast majority of people, your loved ones love you back and would not be so unkind as to think such horrid things. Being kind to your loved ones will in turn allow you to be kind to yourself.”
Harry’s head hurt a little thinking about that… Thinking about other people thinking about him…? He didn’t care at all what people thought! He skipped ahead again.
“If you have recognised that you have recurrent thoughts or feelings that you find distressing, there are several methods in which you may help yourself. You may try reframing your thoughts or feelings, such as framing nervous energy as excitement rather than anxiety. You might find distraction a helpful tool, with art, music, or physical exercise useful in keeping your mind busy. Positive affirmations and dwelling on what you are grateful for is also a good way to keep the negativity away.”
Harry sighed. He wasn’t sad! He just couldn’t get his Animagus form because he couldn’t accept the possibility that he wouldn’t be a snake. He would be a snake. Kicking his feet against the mattress, he settled in to read more.
Breathing exercises. Great. He took a deep breath for four seconds, held it for four seconds, exhaled for four seconds, then held the exhale for another four seconds. After a little while breathing in such a manner, Harry fell asleep. At least he wasn’t stressing about his Animagus form anymore…
---
Dobby had been enjoying his time with Master Harry Potter. As he was not a Hogwarts house-elf, he didn’t have a room in the house-elf quarters, but Master Harry had kindly allowed him to sleep in his bedside table in the Slytherin dorms. He had used his expansion spells to turn the cupboard into a large studio apartment, furnishing it with interesting bits and bobs he had found in the Room of Hidden Things.
Some of Dobby’s favourite pieces were the snarling troll bust which appeared to be a rather terrifying hunting trophy, the music box inlaid with mother of pearl which played a pretty waltz, the airy fabrics which he’d draped around his bed to create a canopy effect, the little silvery mushrooms that swayed and danced at random intervals, and the glass display cabinet he kept his weapons in.
His dagger had become part of his everyday attire, always affixed to his hip with a beautiful silvery sheath, but he put it away in the display cabinet at night, as his cupboard was very safe. Also in the display cabinet was the bow and arrow set Master Harry had organised to be made for him. He’d spoken with Seamus Finnigan’s mother to create such a thing, though the witch had apparently thought she was making a bow and arrow set for person of small stature rather than a house-elf. A lot of people were strangely uncomfortable with the sight of an armed house-elf.
To avoid making people uncomfortable, Master Harry and Dobby had been practising archery in the forest. Master Harry had even gone and tracked down a centaur, Firenze, to ask for archery lessons. Dobby was a bit nervous at first, but Firenze was quite friendly, and happily gave them guidance. Master Harry was pretty good at hitting the targets, but Dobby was a natural, and Master Harry had started calling him Legolas as a nickname. Dobby hadn’t understood that at first, but after reading the books that he’d been sent by Dudley, he realised it was a great compliment.
Dobby felt honoured to be in the service of Master Harry, as he was treated in a manner that no other house-elves were. Perhaps it was due to the level of care Dobby took with the snake people. He was quite sure that Charybdis was a shapeshifting snake person like the Dark Lord and Master Harry, so he had been doting on her as she was very large and dangerous. He had seen her change her colours and texture so often that he knew she was probably like Miss Tonks. He wondered if Tonks could change to be a snake as well… If he ever saw her again, he would test her by offering her a nice egg or mouse. Charybdis and Bob couldn’t resist those. Neither could Master Harry.
As the school year was almost over, Dobby would soon be going home to Surrey with Master Harry. He’d told Dobby that there was a cupboard under the stairs that he could expand and had said that he’d lived in it for a bit when he was very young. A cupboard that was good enough for Master Harry must be exceptional! Though he enjoyed his studio apartment, Dobby was looking forward to a larger space. A cupboard under the stairs could probably be expanded to become a two-bedroom apartment. Perhaps Dobby could have a kitchen…
Dobby somewhat missed cooking. Master Harry ate a lot of raw things, but not like the healthy raw things that Mistress Narcissa had eaten… No, Master Harry ate a lot of raw eggs and meat. Dobby had nothing against raw things like that, and he’d certainly found himself enjoying hunting with his bow and arrow, but he sometimes longed for the challenge of baking an intricate pastry. Perhaps Master Harry’s aunt would like some help in the kitchen.
Master Harry had already told Dobby that he could help around the house if he wished, and that he could help at the Friends of Bob bunker when Adam and Gracie were both off. Though, he did warn Dobby that nobody at Friends of Bob would have seen a house-elf before, so he should be prepared for lots of questions.
Dobby didn’t mind answering questions. He had a lot of questions of his own, but he wasn’t brave enough yet to ask them. He was so curious about Master Harry’s grand plans and how things were going with his father… Asking about the Dark Lord seemed risky though, so he would be patient and pay attention to anything Master Harry told him.
Thinking of Malfoy Manor, Dobby sort of missed the fights with the other house-elves. Maybe Master Harry would allow him to visit every now and then…
---
Planning the trip to Atlantis was stressful. At first, he’d been planning on stealing a submarine and using that to travel to Atlantis, but he then realised that he’d need to steal the staff along with it, as he had no idea how to run a muggle submarine. The thought of keeping several muggles under the Imperius while undertaking such a delicate mission was not pleasant, so he scrapped that idea.
Using Lucius’ frankly terrifying networking skills, Voldemort had then tracked down a half-blood with a PhD in Mechanical Engineering, explained the premise of the trip, and had the fellow explain all that was needed to create a magical submarine before Obliviating him and sending him on his way.
Voldemort had started off by creating a hollow sphere of very thick titanium which he heavily warded for protection even though it was already over eight times as strong as it needed to be to withstand the pressures of the depths. He’d gone on to spell the sphere transparent so that he’d be able to see for steering, but the thought of staring out into the blackness of the ocean with seemingly nothing between him and the abyss was unsettling, so he then made the transparent area quite small, just large enough to see out of. To steer, he would use modified propulsion charms which he was able to use just by focusing on where he wanted to go.
The final product looked nothing like a submarine, instead reminding Voldemort of some sort of modern art. Though he knew it was safe, both due to using the thickest and most durable material he could find and due to the reinforcement with magic, he still felt wildly uncomfortable about taking it to the depths. He breathed deeply, pushing away the mental image of an unseen monster devouring the metal sphere and puncturing the hull.
“Perhaps we should test it in shallow waters first…” he mused, trying to sound calmer than he was.
From his portrait, Abraxas made a little hum of agreement.
“How about a nice coral reef? That would be a lovely way to get it out there, wouldn’t it? All the pretty corals and tropical fish…”
Voldemort had always wanted to visit the Great Barrier Reef… Hmm. That could actually be quite nice and relaxing. Just him and Abraxas in a beautiful, serene –
“– YOU MUST BRING NAGINI! NAGINI WANTS TO LOOK AT PRETTY FISH!”
Curses.
Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be as relaxing as he’d thought, but at least he’d made the submarine big enough that Nagini would be able to fit.
“Yes, Nagini… You may come with us.”
“Yesssss, Nagini will be the best watcher of fish. Will be still and quiet and then scare them when I strike.”
“You won’t be able to strike them. You will stay inside the submarine.”
Nagini flickered her tongue, looking at the sphere.
“You wish to be inside a large egg? You wish to be in this egg with Nagini? You will be Nagini’s nestmate?”
Voldemort scoffed.
“No, Nagini. This is a submarine, not an egg. We will be able to travel underwater in this.”
“Nagini can go underwater without a submarine. I can teach you. Your body may have funny appendages, but you may learn to swim well like Nagini.”
Voldemort looked to the ceiling, taking a slow breath.
“I do know how to swim. The submarine will allow us to travel very deep underwater.”
Even saying it felt uncomfortable. He shook out his hands, feeling strange.
“Nagini can swim very deep! Will show you… Will find deep water and bring back a creature from far below. Will hunt fish and eels and water bugs… Yesssss. Nagini will show you.”
Voldemort tuned her out as she segued into her hunting prowess.
“Do you think Lucius will be bored without us here?” Abraxas asked, fiddling with a paperweight.
Though Lucius was a grown man, he still seemed to enjoy sharing gossip with his father, who was apparently less judgmental of his life decisions now that Voldemort was around.
He stared into the distance for a moment, reminded of a moment during Sixth Year when Black was worrying over whether his cat would need enrichment when he went on holiday. He thought of contriving a situation to keep Lucius busy, then almost laughed when he imagined transfiguring the man into a cat and leaving him a nice cardboard box. He would probably be a prissy, uptight cat and only accept a box from Harrods or where similarly upper-crust. With his white-blond hair, he’d probably be one of those long-haired white cats that the Slytherin girls were so fond of. Angora cats, perhaps? Hmm.
He shook himself from his thoughts, annoyed to realise he’d been wasting time thinking of Lucius as a cat.
“He’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll find something to entertain himself with.”
---
Lucius was enraged. Even with Lockhart gone, he still hadn’t won Witch Weekly's Most Magnificent Hair Award. Seething, he stared at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore that spanned the cover. He was dressed in fine gold and red robes with his hair and beard intricately braided. The braids were of varying sizes, with some normal, some fishtail, and some twisted like ropes. The commonality between the braids was that each one had a phoenix feather woven into it.
Lucius squinted, summoned a magnifying glass, then counted all the feathers he could see.
“FIFTY-FOUR!”
Preposterous. The man was wearing several thousand Galleons’ worth of feathers in his beard alone. Atrocious. Did he think he could buy the Most Magnificent Hair Award?
Well… Perhaps he could. If buying the award was possible, Lucius could certainly afford the next one.
What grand accessories could he place in his hair? He couldn’t copy the phoenix feather idea… Unicorn hairs would be too similar in appearance to his own, so wouldn’t show up. Perhaps hairs from the mane of a manticore? Hmm… Red might look odd, especially given that he mocked the Weasleys’ for their hair a fair bit. If he wanted to be really daring, he could try for cuttings from a kelpie’s mane, but he’d have to really think about the look to pair with that so that it didn’t look odd.
Oh!
Great heavens…
He’d been trying to ignore the horrors of the basilisk that Potter had made him aware of since he learned of it, but perhaps the boy would be able to get plume feathers. He only hoped the great beast was male. Though, he supposed, if it were female, he could still make a fascinator out of its shed skin or scales. That would certainly be eye catching! Dumbledore could take this year’s win, but next year’s would be his…
Cackling in a manner most unsophisticated, Lucius jogged to the study to start on a letter to Potter.
---
Fernando had made it to Ilha da Queimada Grande and made friends with all the locals. There were a few different snakes there, but the most populous were the golden lanceheads. He was quite taken with the snail-eaters, who were named so because they ate snails. He’d watched a young snake called Isobel eat a snail by wedging it against a rock and then biting and pulling the soft bit out of the shell. He gave it a try as well, but he was much too big for the finicky process of removing it from its shell and simply ate it whole. Not his favourite flavour or texture, but he was all for trying new things.
The golden lanceheads were interesting folks, as they were very isolated from the rest of the world and the only humans they saw were scientists. In fact, most of the snakes he had met in the wild were pretty odd and interesting. Fernando hadn’t realised how much living in a zoo had shaped the way he thought. For starters, he missed humans a little. He also missed the ease of not having to hunt his food all the time. Not that hunting was a chore all the time, but sometimes, on particularly miserable days, all he wanted was to be pampered and have his food delivered to him by a nice zookeeper. Perhaps his time in the zoo had made him soft.
He also found himself wondering how Harry was doing. He knew that Harry would visit eventually, but he wanted to know what he was up to in the meantime.
Given that Ilha da Queimada Grande was so isolated, all the rubbish that washed up on the shores was simply left on the beaches as there was nobody to clean it up. There were plenty of materials for Fernando to use to make a message in a bottle. He didn’t fully understand the concept, but he had heard some children talking about them in England, so he knew he needed a bottle, something to write with, and something to write on. He wasn’t sure how it would get to Harry, but he trusted that the oceans would be kind and ensure his message was delivered.
After a bit of searching, he successfully tracked down a glass container, a bottle of paint, and some fabric that he could use to write on.
The only issue was that he didn’t know how to write. Bother.
Well, he supposed, pictures would have to do.
Dipping his tail into the ink, Fernando began to draw his adventures.
He drew the airplane, the nest with the funny metal eggs, the wonderful and majestic Boitatá, all the boats he had seen by the beach, the view of Ilha da Queimada Grande that he had seen when approaching the shore, the scientists with their clipboards, himself eating a snail, an enormous fish he had seen and got a bit scared of, a couple of palm trees that bent in such a way as to make a heart, a particularly delicious bird he had caught, and a smiley face.
Getting the fabric into the container was a bit difficult, but he managed in the end. After snapping the lid on, Fernando tossed it into the water in a spot where he knew the current dragged things out to sea. It bobbed about for a bit before slowly making its way out.
Lovely.
He didn’t know how long it would take for Harry to receive the message, but now, at least, he had something else to look forward to.