Poisonous Changes
He fell to his knees, the poison draining what little strength he had left. This is it he thought. Soon the poison would finish its course through his body and he would leave this world forever, beginning his journey on to ‘the next great adventure’ as Dumbledore had once called it.
It seemed almost surreal, just a few hours ago he had been sitting beside Hermione‘s petrified body in the hospital wing – just sitting there, thinking, waiting for something miraculous to happen. And it had! Finding that paper in Hermione’s hand had been the last clue he needed to find the Chamber.
And so off he went, with Ron in tow, to go get Lockhart of all people to help them rescue Ron’s sister. How could I have been so stupid? Harry thought miserably. After everything he had witnessed about his character, he should have found someone better to help them, instead of confronting that good for nothing, lying bastard that was Gilderoy Lockhart. Well, he could blame whoever he liked once he got out of this chamber oh wait, I forgot, I’m dying.
It was getting harder to breathe every second, his vision was getting darker by the minute, and why wasn’t Ginny waking up already! Through his somewhat incoherent thoughts he had managed to conclude that once he got rid of the memory spectre of Tom Riddle, Ginny would wake up and everything would be alright. Things, while maybe a little different, would go back to the way they were before; Quidditch, classes, and other trivial things that almost seemed like another life right now.
But things weren’t alright. The deadly poison of the Basilisk was certainly living up to its name, destroying his very DNA and leaving him nothing but an unidentified husk, when, or rather if he was found. Wonder if the Chamber sealed itself after I entered. Harry thought somewhat curiously. But then it won’t matter anyway, I will be dead and off on some foolish quest to save the day in the afterlife. Harry laughed bitterly, though it soon turned to a coughing fit and an excruciating pain assaulted his senses. He fell onto his side, pain accompanying each sharp intake of his breath. Right. He thought. No more laughing. Who laughs when they are about to die anyway?
Ginny still wasn’t moving. She was pale, so very pale. All life had abandoned her face, but she looked peaceful. It was almost as if she was merely sleeping, what with the way her hair surrounded her gaunt features and her relaxed posture on the ground. And if he concentrated hard enough he could see how her chest would rise in a steady rhythm, following her breathing.
But there was no slow rising of her chest, no soundless breathing and her face was still white as if she were already dead. But she couldn’t be dead, no, that’s just not the way things were supposed happen. He had saved her, killed Voldemort and he only had to wait a little longer. Just a little…You know that isn’t true. His cold voice of logic told him. She is dead and there is nothing you can do about it.
Could it be? Could she really be dead? Had his killing of Voldemort killed her as well? Had Voldemort been the only thing keeping her alive? Maybe they had been living some sort of a symbiotic relationship and he killing the symbiot had killed the host as well. Snap out of it! Oh great, his inner logic was back.
Any further musings were cut short when the venom reached his brain. It was like having magma running through his veins, hot knifes stabbing into his head as it was slowly compressed by a bulldozer. Ignoring the pain to his lungs, his inhuman cry tore through the silence of the chamber, reverberating back and forth, making any living animal close by cower from fear.
Nothing mattered any more. There were no thoughts, no emotions, only the pain.
The pain was so great that if he were capable of thought he would have lost the ability instantly. It lasted for an eternity, and only a second, at the same time.
His magic reacted.
Pushing against the invasion to his most vital system, his magic sundered outwards, crushing the statues, incinerating Ginny’s body as if it were nothing but a mere fly on the wall, and finally reaching the wards protecting the chamber.
Boom!
The castle shook. Debris began raining down from the ceiling, only to vanish upon contact with his wild magic. But the venom was strong. It had come from one of the deadliest of magical creatures, centuries old and protector of Slytherin’s fabled chamber – the Basilisk.
Therefore, unfortunately for Harry, the venom gained a foothold in his body, making it so that if the venom was expelled – he would die. His magic could only retreat and minimize its losses, forming a protective dome around his mind, allowing nothing to enter or leave, be it magical, physical or telepathic .
Normally, someone who had come in contact with the Basilisk venom would have been long dead. However, Harry’s magic was just a tad bit more powerful and complex than your average wizard’s. His powerful magic, the remnants of his mother’s protection and his unnatural link to death all played its part in making him capable of resisting the venom’s lethality. But the venom of such an old creature could not be halted indefinitely.
As the venom renewed its attack on his shielded mind, Harry could no longer resist and his last defences were breached.
Darkness claimed him.

Meanwhile, in the Headmaster’s office.
“Albus. The Weasley’s are here.” McGonagall told him while taking her customary place by his side. She shared a glance with Dumbledore as the newly arrived guests took their seats in front of the infamous desk. After a slow nod from the Headmaster, McGonagall cleared her throat and somewhat nervously began. “Molly, Arthur. I’m afraid something terrible has happened - involving your daughter.” A stifled gasp from Mrs Weasley broke through the tense atmosphere in the room, amid Mr Weasley’s indignant “What!”
“What do you mean? She is supposed to be safe here! Please don’t tell me anything has happened to my baby girl.” Mrs Weasley’s hysterical questioning was halted by a comforting smile from Dumbledore. “Please Molly; calm yourself so that we may explain the situation”
Mr Weasley’s barely whispered question of what happened immediately sobered Dumbledore up. “It appears that the heir has claimed yet another victim.” Dumbledore sadly informed the shocked parents. “Sometime during the last twenty four hours, young Ginevra was abducted and brought to the very Chamber of Secrets itself. Now, you can be assured that all efforts are being made to bring her back safely as quickly as possible.”
“As for the culprit, there is currently no evidence to point to who may be behind this incident though I have my –“Dumbledore’s pacifying speech was abruptly put on hold as an angry Weasley snapped. “Incident! Incident you say? Is the life of my daughter so meaningless to you that this is but some small inconvenience for the ‘great Albus Dumbledore’. How dare you! How dare you…” Mr Weasley’s tirade came to an end as he slumped into his chair, burying his face in his hands. As the married couple comforted each other, Dumbledore rather tiredly answered the defeated man sitting in front of him. “Arthur I…” For a moment he was at a loss for words. How could he give them the words of comfort they so desperately wanted, when he himself knew just how hopeless the situation truly was? After all, the chamber was never found the first time. But as he looked at the people sitting in front of him, he decided that he would at least try to give them some hope, something to cling to. He knew that what he was going to do probably wasn’t the best way to go about things, but at this point he couldn’t get himself to destroy their belief that there was a possibility for her to be saved. “I apologize for my inconsiderate choice of words Arthur, but you cannot give up hope yet. There is still time for Ginevra’s rescue and rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to rescue her.
“Why?” Came Mr Weasley’s sorrowful reply. “Why Ginny? Why did the heir have to bring my girl to the chamber? Why not somebody else!
Through her sobs Molly finally managed to speak up. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help? Cant’ we go help look for her Albus?”

“Don’t you worry about finding the chamber. You let us handle our part and you can rest, so that when Ginny gets back, you will be ready for her.” Dumbledore told them sincerely, his heart hurting with every word. It is for the best. In their state, they would most likely only get in the way and they are to emotional right now. Dumbledore thought sadly.
“I…of course, he’s right Arthur. We better get some rest before they find her” Molly said, sniffing rather forcefully.
“Very well then.” Dumbledore said. “Minerva, if you would be so kind to show our guests to their room.”
Minerva smiled and went over to the Weasleys. “Of course, Albus.” She looked towards them and said. “Your quarters are just two floors down.” The Weasleys simply nodded and followed McGonagall down the moving staircase.
Once he was alone in his office, Dumbledore sighed and, resting his head in his hands, massaged his temples with his fingertips.

Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.

“Fawkes, this truly is the end of Hogwarts isn’t it?” Dumbledore asked the magnificent phoenix resting atop his bird stand. Fawkes slowly turned his head towards the source of the disturbance and gave a soft trill, comforting the old man a little. “Thank you, old friend. But I’m afraid that even hearing your-” Whatever he had meant to say was interrupted when the phoenix suddenly looked up sharply and disappeared in a burst of flames.

Dumbledore was brought out of his stupor by McGonagall entering his office. “Albus, I have shown the Weasleys to their rooms and they’re settling in as we speak.” She looked at him a bit more closely and asked cautiously. “Are you alright sir? You look a bit…shocked.”
“Don’t worry.”Dumbledore said, appearing deep in thought. “Fawkes simply took off while we were in the middle of a conversation. I was shocked to say the least.” McGonagall looked at him a bit dubiously. “A conversation, Headmaster?” At this he smiled pleasantly. “Ah, yes. I find it quite enjoying talking to Fawkes from time to time.” Then he seemed to consider something, and thoughtfully added. “Though they are usually a one sided conversation, I enjoy them nevertheless. And occasionally Fawkes can be quite insightful on important matters.” He finished smiling. “I see.” McGonagall drily answered. “Well, if there isn’t anything else I can do for you, I must see about getting the Weasley brothers to their parents. I’m sure it will do them all some good to be together.” The Headmaster hummed a bit distractedly saying “Yes you do that.” McGonagall quickly stood up and went away to take care of her Gryffindors.

The slight rustling behind him, alerted Dumbledore to the presence of former Headmaster Phineas Nigellus. “Headmaster Dumbledore.” He began insincerely. “It appears that some of your students are not in their dormitories as they should be, according to some paintings on the second floor.” Dumbledore turned in his seat and calmly told the painting of Phineas. “That’s alright. It’s the Weasleys in the company of Professor McGonagall; they’re on their way to see their parents.” Phineas seemed to slightly sneer as he answered Dumbledore. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dumbledore. The Weasley twins have already arrived at their parents room, while the youngest boy…” His face twisted quite comically as he tried to remember something. “…Rob? Ran? No, that’s not it.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he supplied Phineas with the name, only to turn very grave once he heard what followed. “Ah, yes. Now, where was I?”
“You were about to inform me on the whereabouts of young Mr Weasley.” Dumbledore told him with a slight incline of his head, encouraging him to continue. Phineas face brightened considerably and, smirking, continued. “Of course. Whilst the infamous Weasley twins have safely arrived at their parents’ room, Mr Ronald Weasley was sighted running suspiciously close to where Mrs Norris was petrified…” Here he paused and his smirk only grew wider as he continued. “…Along with your precious little Gryffindor Golden Boy, with Professor Lockhart at wand point.”
Gravely, Dumbledore told the former Headmaster. “This is bad news indeed. With Slytherin’s monster on the loose, it may only be a matter of time before they’re petrified.” He closed his eyes for a second, and then firmly said. “Everard, inform the teachers on the situation immediately, Dippet, you inform the ghosts. And Phineas, I want to know immediately when they are spotted by the portraits. I’m going to try and locate their exact location through the Hogwarts wards.” As the portraits emptied of their occupants in a rush, Dumbledore closed his eyes and went into a trans-like state.

A few minutes later, his eyes opened in bewilderment. This can’t be right. They are not appearing inside Hogwarts and with the school in lockdown…no! There must be some other explanation for their absence. Dumbledore thought furiously. He drew his wand and began tapping the various silver instruments on his desk, making them spin, puff smoke and emit strange noises in no apparent order. One in particular drew his attention, words slowly forming above it.

Subject: Harry James Potter
Location: Unknown
Status: Mortal Peril

His eyes widened dramatically, and for a moment he was frozen in shock. Time seemed to slow down as the dust swirled slowly around his office, illuminated by the soft rays of the twilight peering through the window. While the words Mortal Peril, dancing in front of his eyes, mocking him, making him feel helpless and angry at the same time.

Mortal Peril

And then time speed up again. The explosion rocked the castle, sending his instruments smashing into the walls, to the ground and books flying around his office. It was chaos.
Birds took to the sky from the nearby Forbidden Forest, terrified of the explosion and what had caused it.
And yet, as the last tremors ceased to rock the castle as if it were a simple cradle, a tense atmosphere was brought down on the castle. Everyone could feel it. As the castle continued its silent battle, everyone held their breath. Waiting, waiting for the same thing - yet not knowing, what it was they were all waiting for.

Then as if at some magical signal, a collective gasp of relief went through the castle, its inhabitants once again feeling safe behind the massive walls of the magical castle.
The castle was silent and still – so, very, still.

But in their ignorance, they failed to grasp the meaning of the castle’s silence, the importance of what had happened. And a certain old wizard in a ruined office shuddered, as he alone understood.

The castle was afraid.

For as the most evil and wicked beast of the magical world, combined with the purest; something new was born inside the prophesised child of the wizarding world.

It was terrifying as it was powerful, beautiful as it was great. Unholy in its creation, a union between the opposites: Evil and Good, light and dark. It was everything mankind was not meant to be.

The Chamber
As he woke, he detachedly noticed that the pain was gone. Instead, some strange feeling had taken its place. It was like when he got his wand at Ollivanders. The magic was flowing through him, but there was something off about it.
Then he figured it out, there was something inside his magic – fighting? It must be the Basilisk venom and something else. It sure isn’t my magic. Deeming it safe to open his eyes, considering there was no Basilisk waiting for him, he did just that.
The first thing he noticed was how sharper everything seemed to him, then as he closed his eyes for a second and opened them again, he was shocked. Everything had changed. The chamber was illuminated in a strange purple light and, hovering a few feet away, was an amazingly bright red and yellow…thingy. As he looked a bit closer, its shape strangely reminded him of a chicken. Hmm, it is too large to be a chicken, and – Whoa! Those are definitely wings, huge wings. He pondered it for a moment. Okay, we got a chicken shape, if a bit large, wings that would shame a Great Eagle, and – Of course. He mentally slapped himself. It has to be Fawkes.
As he closed his eyes and prayed that phoenixes couldn’t read minds, he became acutely aware that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Wonder what happened to those?
Then, magically, the strange feeling changed from conflicted to content. Huh, the venom and whatever must’ve agreed to a draw. Wonder if Fawkes had anything to do about that other…magic?
As Harry pondered his predicament, Fawkes noticed that he was awake and, carefully, not quite knowing what it was but sensing no ill intent towards him, glided over to it - Harry.
When Harry felt the surprisingly light weight of the phoenix’s presence atop of him, he slowly opened his eyes for the third time and happily noticed that it was back to normal. Well as normal as him seeing perfectly without glasses was. The phoenix chirped annoyingly, drawing his attention back to the vulnerable prey, just waiting to be crushed to death he thought gleefully.
Fawkes flew up in alarm, out of reach of it and its hostile intent.
Harry shook his head, furiously trying to figure out what had happened. One moment he was thinking about his lack of glasses and the next something primal and dangerous had risen inside of him, making him want to attack his parent. Wait, WHAT? Since when did I think of Fawkes as a parent? Oh, now I’m confused. Harry thought, feeling like he was Ten again, when his teacher in primary school had explained the ‘birds and the bees’ to him. It had been embarrassing to say the least; the Dursleys had never bothered to explain it to him and he had just come to accept it that somehow babies appeared inside of women for no reason.
He was brought to the present by Fawkes’ confused trill. “Oh yeah, you are confused. Think how I must be feeling” Harry said, trying miserably to get to his feet. He was getting angry, he was still confused and his skin had started to itch madly some time ago, Fawkes didn’t dare go near him and he was getting a bad vibe from the castle. But he wasn’t giving up so easily and repeatedly tried getting to his feet until he was so tired that he was sure his body was going to rebel against him and go unconscious.
Trying to find his wand, Harry scanned the chamber until he found it lying innocently just nine feet away, close to some pile of ash. Huh. That wasn’t there before. Harry thought, at seeing the pile of ash that was Ginny. And come to think of it, what happened to Ginny? He was detachedly aware that he didn’t feel so much as an ounce of dread at the thought of Ginny dead. Alright, this is no time for lazing about. I just have to get my wand and I’ll figure it out from there how to get out of here without the assistance of my feet - Traitors. He was brought out of his musings by a strange sound from Fawkes. Is he - laughing? He peered at the chicken, his eyes turning an eerie shade of yellow. I’ll be damned, that fire flaming overgrown chicken is actually laughing at me!
Without him noticing, Harry’s skin was rapidly turning a poisonous shade of green, the venom in his magic overshadowing the phoenix healing magic. As his unnatural anger reached its crescendo, the venom, enhanced by his magic started turning him. Silvery green scales began forming over his body; his limbs disappeared into his body, lengthening and growing, he rose majestically over all. Teeth turned to poisonous fangs, venom dripping to the ground in his euphoria.
He was King!
“You will rue the day when you angered me, bird!” He hissed at the phoenix, snapping at it and missing it by inches. He began uncoiling his body, rising to his full height, easily matching the height of the previous Basilisk.
The ignorant would undoubtedly claim it impossible. The misconception that a Basilisk’s size is dependent on its age is quite common in the wizarding world; however the few truly knowledgeable of these things would know that to be false. A Basilisk’s size is merely a physical manifestation of its power, and usually the oldest are the most powerful. And in Harry’s case, it was evident who was correct.
As the phoenix retreated towards the ceiling of the chamber, he savoured the feeling of absolute power, claiming the chamber as his own. Now for the hunt! The basilisk part of him was in complete control. But as he turned around for another attack, an eerie sound was heard inside the chamber. Harry froze; that sound, he recognised it.
Fawkes! The human and phoenix part of him rejoiced.
As the song gave the phoenix magic inside him strength, the Basilisk gave a last hiss before succumbing to the combined phoenix magic and withdrawing to an inactive state.
The transformation back to human was quick, but far from painless. Through his pain he could only muster one last thought before unconsciousness claimed him. What is happening to me?
The Headmaster’s office
The wizened wizard rose to his feet with some difficulty. My back isn’t what it used to be, I have to remember that. The Headmaster thought ruefully, making his way to the broken desk. He drew his wand with a flourish, and with a few waves the office started mending itself; the windows were reformed, books adjusted themselves and flew to their cases and the various furniture and knick knacks were once more whole. Some magical gadgets would need a more thorough care from a specialist though, but luckily the rarer and expensive magical items had had strong enough preservation charms so that they only needed to be re-adjusted. Hmm, I’ll need to take these to Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade for fixing. Dumbledore thought about the silver instruments that once garnished his desk.
As he reached up to straighten his half moon glasses, he felt blood trickling from his left temple and he could feel the impending migraine. I better have this checked by Madam Pomfrey, or I’ll never hear the end of it. He thought amusedly of the school’s resident healer. He strode over to the fireplace in his office and throwing a handful of green powder into it, he promptly vanished from his office, only to gracefully exit from the fireplace in the hospital wing a moment later.
Walking through the door from Madam Pomfrey’s office, he was met by a rush of sound; excited whispering, bickering, yelling and more importantly, Poppy’s strict voice of reprimanding. Casting a quick notice-me-not, he went over to see what all the fuss was about.
“…and if I ever hear that you did something so foolish again, you may expect to spend the entire week in this hospital wing!” Pomfrey’s strict voice could be heard as he approached the bed.
As she continued to reprimand the student, giving him no say in the matter, Dumbledore observed the proceedings with a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. When Pomfrey paused for a second to draw breath, the student finally got his chance.
Dumbledore dispelled the charm.
“But I didn’t…” The student’s words died on his tongue as he noticed who was standing behind the nurse. “I, err…professor. Evening sir, Madam Pomfrey was just completing her instructions for my next couple of days. Had a bit of an accident you see.” The student rather awkwardly explained while trying his best to act nonchalant.
“Of course, if you’re all finished, I was hoping to steel Madam Pomfrey from you for a minute.” Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling. “That is, if it’s all right with you.” He said, inclining his head to the nurse. Pomfrey still seemed a bit flustered after his unexpected interruption, but immediately went into ‘healer mode’ once she spotted the cut on his forehead.
She led him to a bed with private hangings and started casting diagnostic charms and spells rapidly. “This looks like a simple enough cut.” She observed. “Some of the students had some more serious injuries but it seems you got of lucky, then again you aren’t likely to be doing the things they get up to.” As she continued to talk whilst healing him, Dumbledore started thinking of the cause of the explosion. “But overall we got lucky I tell you, if the students hadn’t been confined to their common rooms because of the new curfew, it would have been a disaster. What was that explosion anyway Albus?”
She got no answer from the Headmaster, as he was pondering the same thing. Yes, what was it? It seemed to originate from somewhere below the castle, the dungeons perhaps? No, it was deeper, it must have been somewhere...and then he realised…of course! The Chamber of Secrets, it has to be. And he remembered the scene when fear had first manifested in the school. It had been written on the wall, in blood. And Harry, along with his friends, had been right in the middle of it.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened
Enemies of the Heir beware
But if the explosion came from the chamber, and Harry and Ronald were the only people unaccounted for, aside from Ginevra that is, and….oh no!
He thought back to the moment just before the explosion.
Subject: Harry James Potter
Location: Unknown
Status: Mortal Peril

But if Harry had been in danger before the explosion, had he then maybe been the cause of it, or had he been involved in a more indirect way? He sighed; his thoughts were only managing to give him a headache, and his guesses were just that, guesses. He opened his eyes and saw Pomfrey standing with her hands on her hips, a worried frown in place.

“Don’t worry Poppy, I am simply trying to know what to make out of all this…” He waved his hands around, as if trying to convey some elusive feeling. “…this disaster.” He finished, resting his head on the headboard of the bed, a sigh escaping his lips.

As he closed his eyes, Madam Pomfrey gave a small tut in disapproval. “Albus, I don’t know what those politicians are saying out there, but I know that you are doing everything you can to protect this school and its students. So don’t you dare to give up on us, you hear me.” In a softer tone she continued. “I know that things may seem a bit bleak right now, but soon the petrified students will be healed, and I’m sure the person behind this will be found and Ginny saved.”

Despite the nurse’s kind words, he was still nowhere close to pacified. If she only knew that the most likely suspect is Voldemort and we are as close to finding the chamber as we’re finding Atlantis. He stood up and laid a hand on Pomfrey’s shoulder. “Poppy, I appreciate your concern, but I’m afraid that things aren’t as good as you think. Only recently I was informed by the portraits that Harry Potter and his-“The second time that day Dumbledore was interrupted by his familiar, Fawkes’s flaming. But this time he was flaming into the room, and more importantly – he wasn’t alone.

To the shock of both nurse and headmaster alike, Fawkes appeared above the bed Dumbledore had just vacated in a burst of flames and ceremoniously dropped a pale Harry Potter, clothes bloodied and torn and all, on top of it.

For a moment there was complete silence.

Then all hell broke loose. Pomfrey immediately started casting diagnostic spells and summoning potion vials for her newest patient, while visitors in the hospital wing who had noticed Fawkes appearance were drawn to the bed despite protests from the frantic nurse. In moments, the rumour that the patient was Harry Potter was circulating amongst the crowd. In the midst of it all stood Dumbledore, still as a statue and going without notice. Only when the crowd of students became nosier and more insistent, became Dumbledore aware that Pomfrey was having difficulty taking care of Harry and keeping the students at bay at the same time.

With speed that belied his age, Dumbledore brought his wand down with a flourish, pushing the crowd away and silencing them. “Students, Mr Potter is greatly injured and I’m asking you to give Madam Pomfrey the privacy she needs to properly heal him. It is imperative that she is given this privacy, so she can return Mr Potter back to you unharmed. Any student who fails to comply with these rules shall be punished severely.” He paused to let the information properly sink in, then removed the silencing spell and finished. “I must ask all visitors to leave now, so the patients can have their rest. This is a hospital wing after all.” His grandfatherly smile was back, along with the infamous twinkle.

As the last visitors left the hospital wing, he turned back to where a certain Mr Potter was being taken care of by Madam Pomfrey and her potions. Without looking up from her work, Pomfrey strictly but not unkindly said to Dumbledore. “Albus I must ask you to take a seat, this may take a while and I can’t afford to have any distractions while I’m doing this.”

Before leaving through the enchanted curtains that surrounded the bed, the worried Headmaster asked one last question. “Is Harry going to be alright?”

While waving her wand in a complicated repeat of movements she hastily answered Dumbledore’s question. “I don’t know for sure right now, but some of these readings are really strange and I might need help from a professional healer from St. Mungos. His magic is fluctuating and if I don’t do anything soon, we might have a case of uncontrolled magical release beyond anything I’ve ever seen! So please Albus, no distractions.”

The Headmaster did as she asked and in no time at all he had arrived at his office. Without wasting any time, he went over to the fireplace and cast the ‘floo powder’ into it, yelling “St. Mungos: first floor!” He plunged his head into the green flames and greeted the receptionist once his head stopped spinning.
In moments a qualified healer, wearing the customary green robes of a healer, had been summoned and Dumbledore wasted no time in bringing the man up to date. Dumbledore lowered the wards on his fireplace for a moment as the man stepped through.

And off they went.

Their trek to the hospital wing seemed to take longer than normally but finally they were there. They went to where Pomfrey was silently observing Harry sleeping, a thoughtful frown marring her face.

As they approached her, she turned around and greeted them with a tired smile. “Hello Albus, I see you brought some help.” He smiled back and made the introductions. “Poppy, this is Healer Timothy Bishop. Tim, this is Hogwarts nurse, Madam Poppy Pomfrey.” When Pomfrey still didn’t move from her place in front of Harry, Dumbledore placated her suspicions. “Don’t worry Poppy, Tim is an old friend and can be trusted.”

Once the initial greetings were over with, Pomfrey began telling the two men her readings. “Well physically he is healthy as a horse, but there is something happening to his magic and, to be frank, I have no idea what it is doing to him.”I’ve detected large amounts, and I mean not traces of, but large amounts of basilisk venom inside his blood stream and it has somehow been incorporated to his magical core.” Mr Bishop frowned, but otherwise didn’t interrupt the nurse. “The only reason of why he isn’t dead that I can think of is a foreign healing magic that I have yet to identify.”

Here she seemed to get really frustrated. “But the thing is, the venom isn’t trying to kill Harry, neither is the healing magic trying to fight it…it’s almost as if his body has gone against all the laws of medical science and accepted the foreign magic into his body instead of rejecting and fighting it.”
Instead of answering, Timothy drew his wand and began doing his own form of diagnostic spells. After a moment he frowned and did a set of movements again - and again.
“This can’t be right.” He said to no one in particular. Dumbledore and Pomfrey exchanged worried glances, and Dumbledore voiced the question on both their minds. “What is it Tim?”

“I…I’m not sure, but according to my diagnosis…” He hesitated for a moment, wondering if what he was seeing was right, but then remembered he had checked and double checked his results.

He let out a shaky breath and turned his head towards Dumbledore. “According to my diagnosis, this boy isn’t a wizard. Not anymore at least.” For what seemed the hundredth time that day, Dumbledore was shocked into a stupor. A squib? No surely that can’t be right, Poppy detected Harry’s magic.

His thoughts were voiced by Pomfrey. “You must’ve botched the spell. While I didn’t perform the same diagnostic spells as you, I did detect his magic, and there was as much if not more of it as last time I checked.”

Timothy started fiddling with the hem of his robe, a nervous gesture, and rather painfully clarified. “I’m afraid you misunderstood. While Mr Potter is still a magical being, he is not registering as a wizard. He is not even registering as human.

There was silence.