Harry Potter with Technology System

Ch316- Curse

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"But why are they hunting non-humans now?"

Hagrid shifted on his feet, his eyes flicking to the window. "Well… don' get me wrong, Harry. That thing yeh did at Yule—inviting goblins, elves, centaurs an’ all—it was bold, right brave, too. But it’s gone an’ started a bit of a reaction, yeh see?" He rubbed a hand over his scruffy beard, a nervous habit. "Some folks didn' like it."

Harry felt a flicker of realization. Fudge’s assassination had changed everything. With his weak style out of the picture, the Ministry was now scrambling to look tough, stepping up their stance not only against Death Eaters but also against anyone who skirted punishment. And if inviting those usually shunned creatures to Yule had rattled the Pure Blood ideologists, well, Harry couldn’t say he regretted it.

He tapped his foot on the ground, giving Hagrid a sidelong look. “So, since there’s no minister, they’re using the chaos to go after non-humans, trying to make some kind of twisted statement?”

Hagrid nodded, his face settling into a grim look. “Aye, that’s the gist of it. There’s folk who’ll always think like that, yeh know? Always wantin’ to keep magic in certain hands, the ‘right’ hands, they say.” He grumbled, scuffing a massive boot against the floor. “Doesn’t sit well with me. Grawp’s got every right to be here as anyone else.”

It was to be expected. When Harry had revealed the Diary of Voldemort, he sent enough proof to Madam Bones, Minister Fudge, and Dumbledore that they couldn’t ignore it. Umbridge had been sent to Hogwarts earlier that year to keep an eye on things, but she left soon after Fudge’s assassination. Just before his death, Fudge had passed a law that allowed Veritaserum use on the Most Noble and Ancient Houses—but only as a hollow gesture to pacify the public after it came out that Sirius Black had been wrongfully imprisoned. Fudge had slyly ensured that Lucius Malfoy and other Death Eaters would avoid being retried, keeping his hands clean while pretending to uphold justice.

Now, with Fudge gone, there was nothing left to hold Amelia Bones back, nor those in the Ministry who truly wanted to deliver justice. With the Ministry now taking a hardline approach, the Death Eaters and pureblood ideologists had devised a cruel retaliation plan. They begun hunting non-human beings to “prove a point.” They wanted to remind everyone that their ideology was still very much alive and that they were far from powerless.

Harry exchanged a look with Hagrid, understanding the reason behind Grawp’s presence here. He gave Hagrid a nod. "So that’s why you brought him to Hogwarts. Safer than leaving him with that lot on the loose, right?”

Hagrid nodded grimly. “Aye, yeh got it, Harry. They’re gettin’ desperate, startin’ to turn on anyone who ain’t ‘human enough,’” he spat bitterly. “So, I couldn’t leave ‘im out there. Brought ‘im here to keep ‘im safe—thought it would be best.”

...

After Harry bid Hagrid goodbye, he figured there was no need to interfere since Hagrid wasn’t in any immediate trouble. The sight of Grawp had been an unusual surprise, even by Hagrid’s standards, but it fit with Hagrid’s penchant for taking care of creatures no one else dared to go near. He made his way back up to the castle.

The next few weeks at Hogwarts passed without incident, with Harry diving back into his studies and his ongoing attempts to decipher Rowena Ravenclaw’s infuriating runes. They still felt just out of reach, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was closer than he had been before.

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match came and went, and, as expected, it was an intense game with a new strategy. Despite Gryffindor’s valiant efforts with new Seeker, Ginny Weasley, Slytherin took the win once again. Afterward, they spent the evening in the common room, the usual chatter about house points and upcoming exams filling the air.

As the end of the school year drew closer, Harry knew he had to deal with the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Moody was proving to be a solid professor, and the last thing Harry wanted was for him to get caught up in the mysterious curse that seemed to claim every DADA teacher, year after year. But like his experience with Lupin, he had no clue where to start.

With no other choice, he set off to the Chamber of Secrets. If anyone at Hogwarts might know the origins or mechanics of a dark curse, it was the ancient basilisk within the Chamber.

Harry entered Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, muttered, “Open,” in Parseltongue, and descended into the depths. The elevator lowered him into the Chamber. He scanned the dim room, “Basi, are you here?”

A low rumbling sound echoed from the far end of the Chamber, and moments later, the serpent’s immense, scaly form slithered into view, eyes shielded from Harry by a careful blink of his nictitating membranes.

“You seek me, Master,” Basi called.

Harry nodded. “I need your help with a curse—one that’s stuck to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position. Every year, the professor in that role faces some kind of trouble or... worse.”

Basi’s head tilted, scales sliding against the stone floor with a subtle hiss. “A peculiar problem,” he said. “But not unheard of. Curses, particularly those tied to place or purpose, are designed with careful malice. Tell me, have you uncovered any history around this curse?”

“Not much,” Harry admitted, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “Rumor says it started decades ago, and no professor has lasted more than a year since.”

“When did this curse start?” Basi asked, his gaze piercing. “Such curses,” Basi began, voice darkening, “are usually woven with blood, purpose, and something to anchor them—either an object or a place. But, for any wizard to anchor a curse to Hogwarts itself is nearly impossible. The founders’ wards run through the very walls; they reject such malice.”

“1970,” Harry answered. “Just before the war."

Basi’s eyes narrowed, recalling something long-hidden in the shadowed recesses of memory. “Yes, I remember,” he hissed slowly, “that man returned that year. Years after he had left, he came back—down here, in fact. He sought something—the inheritance, though he failed to claim it.” Basi's voice held a hint of smugness at this memory. "He could not unlock all of Salazar’s runes. Even as the so-called ‘Heir,’ he lacked the skill and understanding.”

Harry hummed, nodding as he thought over what Basi had just told him about Voldemort’s failed attempts at Parselrunes. "He had just enough Parselmagic to open the chamber," Basi continued. "But the true inheritance eluded him. In his arrogance, he was convinced he could decipher the runes by force alone." The basilisk gave a dry, amused chuckle, his forked tongue flicking as if savoring the memory. "He couldn’t fully read Salazar’s runes, and when he failed, he left in quite a temper, muttering curses in that twisted tongue of his."

Harry’s interest sharpened. “Riddle really came back to Hogwarts after he graduated? And he woke you up?”

Basi nodded, pausing to remember. "Yes, it was sometime in that period. He slunk into the chamber one day, filled with that bitter determination of his. He came looking for something... a legacy he thought was his by blood." The basilisk’s eyes narrowed, recalling the scene. “But he was stopped again by the same runes. Furious, he left."

Harry asked, “So, do you think Riddle cursed the Defense position? You just said it’s impossible.”

Basilisk shook his massive head, a low rumble escaping his throat. "To place a curse within Hogwarts is no simple matter," he explained, his words slow. "The wards built by the Founders are woven deep into the very stones. Only the most powerful of magic could ever trick those defenses, and even then, only with specific connections to the Founders themselves."

Harry nodded, watching the serpent carefully. “So you’re saying someone would need to override those protections?”

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