Harry Potter :Diamond Heart

Harry grinned and flicked the first butterfly in the portrait's direction as he transfigured it from the harmless insect to a razor-edged shard of steel. 'Stop that,' the painting exploded as the projectile ricocheted violently off the serpent above him.

In a matter of moments Harry covered the chamber in flurry of steel pieces. He had grown adept at this, the scratched, criss-crossed hide of the dead basilisk bore mute testimony to his practice with the piece of magic. It was a neat, clever combat enchantment, even if he had to say so himself. Harry did have to say it himself, because the only other who knew about it was Salazar and he'd rather light himself on fire than admit he approved of his heir using butterflies.

'You've grown very good at using that embarrassment,' Slytherin remarked acidly.

Harry

ignored

the

snide

comment

and dispelled his butterflies and projectiles in wisps of black smoke.

strewn

Turning to the pool he prepared to use his most draining enchantment. He always ended every session of magic use by trying to hold it as long as possible. Salazar had assured him that by practicing a spell so demanding, both magically and mentally, he would improve swiftly.

'Not from the water,' the portrait ordered. Harry turned to regard it curiously. His conjuration had always had an elemental twist to it, the strength of the summoned serpent came partially from whatever he had created it from.

'The air,' the founder suggested. 'If you can conjure it effectively from nothing but the air around you it will become a far more versatile and dangerous tool in any duel or combat you might find yourself in.'

Harry remembered how hard it had been to conjure his butterflies from the air and frankly thought that his ancestor had probably spent a few too many centuries down here on his own if he thought conjuring a seventy foot basilisk from air was even possible.

'Don't look so sceptical,' the painting snapped. 'I don't want you to give it flesh, blood and scales, coalesce it from the air, give it form from the element just as you have always done.'

Harry's scepticism did not fade in the slightest, but he did his best to rearrange his face into something more hopeful.

He slashed his wand away from his across his chest, focusing as clearly as he could on forming a basilisk form the air, its fang-filled maw and smooth scales striking from nothing across the chamber.

There was a blur of motion, like heat-haze in the distance, then the tongue bridge shattered like so much glass, spraying pieces across the pool.

'Never listen to my suggestions again,' Salazar told him sternly. There was a piece of bridge lodged in the edge of his frame and more than a few marks across the canvas from smaller bits of debris. 'Your focus must have been frighteningly intense to create an effect like that.'

The two of them silently regard the damage until Harry waved his wand and cast the mending charm. The bridge reformed perfectly, but Salazar's portrait was not affected by the spell. 'I don't understand why we couldn't see it,' the fonder muttered. 'I expected,' he clarified at Harry's raised eyebrow, 'for translucent serpent similar to the water based one. Yours was barely visible. It was as if you tried to form it from nothing rather than air, and somehow succeeded.'

Harry frowned, trying to recall his exact thoughts when he had performed the enchantment. He had, he realised, visualised creating it from nothing, but he had done the same for the butterflies without any unexpected effect.

'I think you made it a vacuum,' Salazar suggested tentatively. 'Somehow your mind made that conjured basilisk out of nothing, grasping the idea of something being made of nothing so completely and comprehensively it worked. I've never seen anything like it,' he finished a little jubilantly.

'I can test it again,' Harry suggested lightly.

'Not in the chamber,' Slytherin hissed. 'Go and ruin the Room of Requirement instead.'

Harry chuckled and tucked his wand up his sleeve. He was rather proud of just how destructive that piece of magic had been. He hoped he was able to replicate it in the future, no simple shield charm was going to stop an impact like that.

Then the implications of Salazar's explanation struck him and his pride drained away.

My most powerful spell is based understanding the feeling of nothing.

on

A muscle twitched in his jaw. The irony was so bitter it burnt.

'Are you leaving?' The painting stared up at him from its propped up position. 'If you are you're not going until you've put me back in the study. I refuse to be left on the floor. I am Salazar Slytherin.'

'Technically you're just his painting,' Harry pointed out. The portrait was a little too fond of reminding him of who it was.

Slytherin opened his mouth a few times, but no words came out. Harry relished the brief moment of speechlessness that came before he was buried in a torrent of furious parseltongue.

'Ungrateful, am I?' he repeated, picking one of the few tangible words. 'You went back on your words about show me how to remove the anti-levitation charm on this thing. I'm not very grateful about having to keep carrying it back and forth.'

'I don't know how,' the portrait admitted. The snake had buried its head in Salazar's robes out of shame.

'You're Salazar Slytherin,' Harry repeated in mock pride.

'Rowena put it on, not me. I wasn't as good as she was at enchanting things.'

'So in other words I have to keep carrying you around.' Harry was none too impressed by that.

'It's an honour,' the portrait assured him good-naturedly. 'Think of all the things I've taught you.' Harry couldn't exactly deny how much the painting had helped in his effort to improve himself. It had been by far his best teacher. Perhaps because, unlike all the other professors who were somewhat distanced from the student body by their positions and thus never quite part and party to what was happening, Salazar was near enough to help. Whatever the reason was the ancient, slightly eccentric, short-tempered piece of canvas has become the one thing he trusted most. There was only one piece of advice from it he would not follow.

'I am leaving,' Harry answered finally, picking up the portrait and hefting it back to its spot over the door. 'I need to eat, especially after using so much magic.'

'Watch out for your former friends,' the painting warned as he left. 'They do not seem so noble as you.'

As if Ron or Dean would have thought twice before saving themselves.

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