Chapter 71: The Secret Words
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 71: The Secret Words
The Christmas break had been the longest two weeks of Harry's life.
The castle had felt hollow and silent like a tomb. The few students who remained wandered the corridors like ghosts, their footsteps barely breaking the silence.
The Great Hall was half‑empty, the long tables stretching into shadows. Even the enchanted ceiling seemed dimmer, the stars muted behind a veil of grey clouds.
Or perhaps it was all his imagination, and the environment was merely acting as a reflection of how he felt inside.
Because Harry had spent most of the break alone.
He had walked the same corridors so many times that he knew every crack in the stone, every faded tapestry, every portrait that still whispered about him when he passed.
The Fat Lady snored in her frame. The suits of armour stood motionless, their visors down. And Harry walked among them, invisible and alone.
He had stood at the window of the astronomy tower, watching the snow fall over the frozen lake, and wondered if he would ever feel warm again.
He had seen Draco and Crabbe at meals, had exchanged the briefest of nods with them across the great hall. But they never spoke to each other.
They couldn't risk someone seeing or hearing them. After all, Dumbledore's eyes and ears were everywhere, and Harry knew that any sign of contact with his old friends would be reported back to the Headmaster.
So he had kept to himself. He had studied, done his homework, visited the library, and wandered the empty corridors, while his mind went over all of his plans, fears, and regrets.
The solitude had been suffocating. The silence had pressed in on him from all sides, and more than once, he had found himself staring at the walls of his room, wondering if he was losing his mind.
'I need to get out of here,' he had thought. 'I need to find a way to escape from this prison before it's too late.'
But there was nothing he could do. Not yet, at least. He had to keep reminding himself to be patient.
Hermione had been his only constant companion during the break. She was as cold and efficient as ever, her presence a reminder of the surveillance he was under. She asked about his studies, his sleep, his eating habits. She never asked about his feelings. She never asked about his dreams.
He had tried to reach her on many occasions, had tried to find the person beneath the mask, hoping that there was still something left. He had asked her about the photograph of her parents, about her childhood, about anything that might crack her armour.
But she had retreated further into herself, her walls higher than ever.
'She's scared,' Harry had realised. 'She's just as trapped as I am and feels scared of what could happen if she were to break her icy mask.'
But even knowing this didn't make her company any easier to bear.
The days had blurred together into some lengthy unpleasant feeling.
Harry had counted the hours until the students returned, until Ginny came back with answers.
And now, finally, January had arrived, and it was time.
The castle was alive again, filled with the chatter of returning students. The corridors were crowded, and Harry moved through them like a shadow, his eyes scanning the crowd.
And then, he saw her.
He found Ginny Weasley, walking alongside her brothers. Surrounded by other Gryffindor students.
They all ignored him, but she didn't.
Ginny looked at him, and just for a second, their eyes met. And then, he saw a brief, almost imperceptible smile flicker across her face.
At that moment, Harry immediately knew... she had brought good news.
<><>
That same late afternoon, Harry made his way to the library, hoping to find his friend there, as they had planned.
He found a secluded table near the back, hidden behind a towering shelf of ancient texts. He sat down and waited.
Nearly twenty minutes later, Ginny appeared. She moved quickly, her footsteps barely registering on the stone floor. She was carrying a heavy, leather‑bound book under her arm, its cover cracked and worn with age. The spine was barely holding together, and the gold lettering on the front had faded almost beyond recognition.
She sat down across from him, her eyes bright with excitement.
"I found it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I found the book I mentioned to you."
"You did?" Harry leaned forward. "And... what does it say?"
Ginny opened the book carefully, her fingers tracing the yellowed pages. The smell of old parchment and dust rose from the volume. She stopped at a page near the middle, marked with a faded ribbon.
"Here, look," she said, pointing to an illustration. "The symbol we saw in the bathroom. The hand grasping the flame. I told you I had seen it before."
"You are right... It's the same one we saw." Harry studied the drawing. It was identical to the one they had found beneath the lion engraving...a hand, its fingers curled around a blazing fire. The flames seemed to flicker in the dim light, as if they were alive.
Harry reached out and touched the illustration, his finger tracing the outline of the hand and the flame. The ink was dark and slightly raised, as if it had been pressed into the page rather than written.
"What does it mean?" Harry asked.
Ginny's voice was filled with awe. "It's the symbol of an ancient society that predates even the Ministry of Magic. It's called the Order of the Blazing Lion. It was founded by Godric Gryffindor himself."
Harry's breath caught. "The founder?"
Ginny nodded. "Gryffindor created the order to protect the secrets of the castle, among other things, I believe... that my family was a member of this society in the past," Ginny explained. "Only the bravest and most loyal were invited to join. They were sworn to guard Gryffindor's most important secrets, and to ensure that only the true heir of Gryffindor could claim his treasure."
"There's more in the book about the Order," Ginny said, turning a few pages. "They were sworn to secrecy. They took oaths on their magic. Some of them even had their memories altered to protect the location of the Sanctum."
Harry's mind raced. "How do we get in? Is there a key? A spell?"
Ginny smiled, turning the page. "The society used a password. A phrase that identifies a member of the order. It doesn't specifically mention the Gryffindor Chamber but..."
"But if there is a keyword that would open the entrance," Harry glanced at the pages. "It would be that one."
"That was my thought as well," she read aloud, her voice soft but clear: "By fire and courage, I claim my birthright."
Harry repeated the words, letting them settle in his mind. "It's short, but precise."
"Yes," Ginny said. "That has to be the key to opening the chamber. We just have to say the words at the entrance, and the door should open."
Harry felt a surge of hope. He was one step closer. One step closer to finding out the secrets of this castle, and a potential weapon he could use to protect those he cared about.
He was convinced that a battle-maniac wizard like Godric Gryffindor must have hidden his most powerful and destructive magical artifact in that chamber.
'If I can get my hands on it...' Harry thought with a sliver of hope.
He glanced at the girl in front of him. "When can we go?" he asked.
Harry had considered for a moment going alone, now that he had the keyword. But there was still the matter of the trial waiting for him inside the chamber.
And there was a good chance that having a true Gryffindor at his side would become necessary.
Also, Ginny's help had been crucial to get this far, so he couldn't just leave her behind.
Ginny glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "Saturday night. After curfew. We'll meet in the bathroom."
"Can you make it there by yourself?" He asked.
Ginny winked at him. "I also have my ways. Don't worry about it."
Harry nodded. "I'll be there."
Ginny closed the book, her eyes meeting his. "We're going to do this, Harry. We're going to find out the secrets that had remained hidden for a millennium. Isn't that exciting?"
Harry smiled. "I know. And when we do, everything is going to change."
After Ginny left, Harry sat alone at the table, the weight of the book still lingering in his mind. He thought about the Order of the Blazing Lion, about Gryffindor's secret society.
He wondered what kind of trial Gryffindor had set for those who sought his treasure. Would it be a test of courage? Of strength? Of loyalty? He didn't know. But he knew that whatever it was, he was ready to face it.
He stayed in the library for a while longer, pretending to read. But his mind was elsewhere, turning over plans and possibilities.
Saturday night was only three days away. Three days until he would finally enter the Sanctum of the Brave.
He felt a flicker of hope. It was small and fragile, but real.
He gathered his things and left the library, his steps lighter than they had been in weeks.
Later that night, Harry lay in his bed, staring at the canopy above him. The Potter ring was still hidden under his mattress, alongside his diary and the note left behind by Dibble.
He reached for the ring, pulling it out and holding it in his hand. The gold band seemed to glow in the dim light, the stag sigil catching the faint light from the candle.
It felt warm against his skin, a reminder of his family magic, of his legacy, and of everything he was fighting for.
This was not about himself. This was for his friends and his family... he was the last one left now, but he would not forget about them.
And I will not forget about the one responsible for you not being here, and for me being alone now... Harry clenched his teeth with anger he could no longer control.
The ring seemed to react to his emotions, and the symbol of the stag glowed brighter.
He thought about his grandfather, Fleamont Potter, who had died on the day Harry was born. He thought about the grimoire, the ancient book of family magic that now lived inside him. He thought about the weight of being the last of his line, the last Potter. He would not let that legacy end in defeat. He would not let Dumbledore destroy everything his family had built.
'I will find the Sanctum,' he promised himself. 'I will claim its treasure. And I will use it against that bastard.'
He tucked the ring back under his mattress and closed his eyes.
Sleep came slowly... and when it did, he dreamed of a golden lion and a blazing flame.
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