jharad17 - Better Be Slytherin!

"See?" Millie said evenly. "I can go see him if you--"

"No," he interrupted. "I know what I can do."

With a frown, she said, "What?"

"I can go get the Stone myself."

--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--

AND:

The vines pulled tight around him and wrapped him in their coils, but he simply relaxed and the snare loosened, letting him fall through into the room below.

That must've been Pomona's contribution, he thought, as he brushed off his robes.

He walked forward, keeping one eye peeled for anything charmed (by Filius) or transfigured (by Minerva) and the other watching for a foolish Slytherin boy who was liable to get them both killed.

--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--

After Harry left Millie that afternoon, he made some very fast plans. He didn't want to get either of his friends in trouble -- as he knew he was likely to be -- so he didn't share his ideas with them further. After dinner, when the Common Room was revved up with a post-finals party hosted by the 7th Years who were due to leave Hogwarts for the last time in a couple weeks, it was not difficult for Harry to sneak off under his Invisibility Cloak and go looking for the Bloody Baron.

Finding the Baron actually took the longest out of all his preparations. He had thought the Baron was watching him all the time, except while he was in his bedroom, but when he finally found the ghost, the Baron was hovering near the girl's bathroom on the second floor, the one none of the girls wanted to use, according to Hermione. Harry had never asked her why.

Harry removed only the hood of the Cloak as he approached the ghost. "Hello," he whispered. "I need a favor."

The Baron's eyes grew wide with surprise or fear. His voice was lower than usual when he intoned, "What are you doing out of bed, young Harry Potter? You should not be about on a night like this."

"A night when Snape tries to steal the Stone, you mean?"

"That is foolishness, as I have told you time and again. Severus Snape would never attempt to steal the Sorcerer's Stone."

"I heard him and Quirrell plotting," Harry said for the millionth time. The ghost sighed. "It's true!"

"I know what you believe you saw, but you must know that not everything you see is what is true."

Harry glared. He hated being told, however obliquely, that he was too stupid to understand what he had seen. "Whatever. Someone is going to steal the Stone tonight, and I want to stop them."

"That is a particularly Gryffindorish idea."

"Well, the Sorting Hat did say I could do well in Gryffindor."

The Ghost nodded slowly. "So you have said. I believe, however, on a night such as this, that you would do better to stay true to your more Slytherin qualities."

"I can't. If someone gets the Stone, then Voldemort will come back. He'll have even more power. Enough so he can kill me this time."

The Bloody Baron floated closer. His mouth was twisted angrily, and his eyes were like dark fire. "So you would put yourself within the man's grasp? Deliver yourself to a mad man by following him into the crypt? That is even more foolish than I imagined!"

"No, that's why I need your help!" Harry cried. "If we work together, we can get the Stone before Voldemort does."

"And how would we do that, Harry Potter?" the Baron spat.

"You have to possess me. Like you did before, when I was attacked in the dungeons. Possess me, but let me keep my memory."

"Absolutely not!"

"But you know way more spells than I do, and you can cast magic when you possess me." Harry pursed his lips and glanced over his shoulder, in the general direction of the stairs to the third floor, where Fluffy's room was. He tried his last gambit. "If you won't help me . . . it's not likely I'll make it out of there alive."

The Bloody Baron glared at him. "I could possess you and then just cast a stunner at us both. Keep you from the crypt."

"You could, but then I'd bleed out from your chest wound before anyone found me, like before. And you wouldn't be able to get help for me either, because of the stunning spell."

For a long moment, the ghost continued to glare, even as he moved closer and closer to Harry. Close enough that goose flesh rose on Harry's arms under the cloak. Finally, the Baron gave one sharp nod. A different, more admiring light entered his ghostly eyes. "You certainly are Slytherin enough, Harry Potter. I will do this. But you must let me control your body. I can not fight with you for control if we come up against an enemy."

"You can have control if we have to cast spells. But I control us the rest of the time."

"You foolish--"

"It's this way or no way, and I go alone!" Harry interrupted.

"Very well," the Bloody Baron said, not sounding very happy.

"Swear on it."

"I swear on it," the Baron said, and Harry let the ghost flow into his body before he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head again and they vanished from sight.

It took a fair amount of wriggling inside his own skin for Harry to get accustomed to the feel of the Bloody Baron inside his head and body. No, accustomed was not the right word; it made it sound like he'd gotten used to the sensation; he could never get used to this . . . persistent tingling cold, so bitterly icy that his nerves burned, as if on fire. The only outward sign of the Baron's possession was a low level gleam of Harry's skin, which could almost be attributed to moonlight . . . if moonlight could have penetrated to this long, dark hallway.

The Bloody Baron's "voice" inside his head was the worst part, though. The words seemed to echo through him while at the same time feeling almost like his own thoughts. Don't want this , he thought, and immediately got the thought back, then tell me to get out , as if he were arguing with himself. Can't. Sucking chest wound, remember? An odd, disjointed chuckle bubbled up in his mind. I could Obliviate you again afterwards. Take control and . . . No! That was worse. I can . . . we can handle it.

He was not sure who the last thought belonged to. It was beyond freaky.

By the time they reached the third floor corridor and Fluffy's door, Harry had started to feel less ragged about the intrusion of the ghost.

Ready? Harry asked him/Baron/self as he reached out to cast Alohomora at the door. But the door was already open, just a crack. From inside, they/he could hear the tinny sound of a small, slightly off-key harp. Harry inched the door open wider until he could smell the heavy scent of dog, along with sulfurous undertones.

Sulfurous undertones? he wondered. Where did that term come from? . . . Oh.

Another low, ghostly chuckle burbled from his subconscious. Creepy.

Harry eased himself through the door to find Fluffy, the three-headed hell hound, sound asleep. Excellent. Seemed Hagrid was right about music soothing the beast. Before he had gone three steps, however, the somewhat soothing sound of the harp ceased and Fluffy's eyes started to open. One blink, then another, was all it took for Fluffy to be on his feet and growling. The hellhound could not see Harry/Baron beneath his Invisibility Cloak, but the beast was sniffing the air like a hound dog, attempting to home in on him.

Harry gulped, loudly.

Fluffy jerked around and hunched down as if to lunge.

The flute , his mind reminded him.

Oh, yeah. He whipped the thin, carved flute out of his back pocket and played a few quick notes, then a few more, more slowly, as he watched Fluffy's eyes droop.

Well done, he thought -- no, the Baron thought -- when Fluffy yawned hugely, showing teeth, before turning thrice and lying down again. Fortunately, he was well away from the trap door when he did; in fact, with the sound of snapping matchsticks, he had settled on the harp in the corner.