Only when Harry reached the cracked marble sink—its serpent engraving staring back at him with stone-cold familiarity—did he finally allow himself to breathe.
The corridor behind him was silent.
Just the faint, distant rumble of something vast moving beneath Hogwarts, like the heartbeat of a buried god.
Harry pressed a hand against the cool stone wall of the abandoned girls' lavatory, chest rising and falling once—only once—before control snapped back into place. This was it. The last place in the castle no one could follow him.
Not without Parseltongue.
"Good," Harry murmured under his breath.
The irony of the place was not lost on him.
A girls' lavatory.
Salazar Slytherin's office.
He could almost hear the holocron's dry, amused voice in his mind.
"Godric always did have a sense of humor as subtle as a Bludger to the skull."
The Chamber had not originally been hidden behind sinks and stalls. It had been a private sanctum, a research hall, a place of experimentation and contemplation for Salazar Slytherin when Hogwarts was young and raw and full of ambition. The basilisk had been only one part of it—guardian, executioner, deterrent.
When Salazar left, bitter and furious, Godric Gryffindor had done what he always did best.
He mocked.
He sealed the entrance, collapsed the upper halls, and centuries later—long after Salazar was dust and legend—another headmaster had rebuilt the structure above it, disguising the sealed throat of the Chamber beneath plumbing and porcelain.
Harry stepped toward the sink, fingers brushing the serpent carved into its side. Its stone eyes seemed to gleam faintly in the low light, as though recognizing him.
"I'm not staying here forever," Harry whispered—not sentimentally, but factually.
Then he hissed.
Parseltongue slid from his tongue like a blade being drawn.
The serpent engraving shuddered. Stone ground against stone. The sink split cleanly down the middle and sank into the floor, revealing the yawning circular shaft beneath.
Warm air rushed up from below, carrying with it the scent of ancient stone, metal, ozone—and something new.
Power.
Harry didn't hesitate.
He stepped into the darkness and fell.
The shaft twisted, spiraling downward far faster than it had any right to. Harry let gravity take him for half a second, then bent it—Force wrapping around his body, slowing the descent, guiding him like a controlled drop rather than a fall.
He landed silently.
The Chamber of Secrets opened before him in all its familiar enormity.
The basilisk statues loomed, carved faces half-lost in shadow. The vast stone floor stretched outward like a forgotten cathedral. Runes embedded in the walls pulsed faintly with power, drawing energy directly from Hogwarts itself.
The Chamber was intact.
Yet the far wall—where the passage led toward the Forbidden Forest—was no longer stone.
It was moving.
Harry froze for a fraction of a second, staring.
The tunnel that once existed there—a narrow, ancient escape route carved by Salazar himself—was being torn open, expanded with terrifying precision. Stone flowed like liquid, peeled back and reshaped by magic that was not wizardry, not elf magic alone—
The walls of the tunnel glowed red-gold, molten runes burning as they were rewritten in real time. Support arches formed themselves, reinforced with enchanted alloys. The ceiling lifted, widening, stabilizing.
The ground trembled again.
Harry felt it echo all the way up through Hogwarts.
So that's it, he realized grimly.
That's the earthquake.
"Dobby…" Harry whispered, and for the first time since leaving the Great Hall, his voice cracked.
Then he saw him.
Inside the Starship, silhouetted against blazing control panels and awakened machinery, stood a small figure—ears sharp, posture straight, movements precise.
Dobby.
He wore a dark cloak, threaded with glowing sigils. His hands moved across holographic controls with practiced ease, fingers dancing through streams of light and glyphs that belonged to another age entirely.
And his eyes—
Harry's breath caught.
They glowed.
With a deep, cold amber light that did not belong to a house-elf.
The starship itself dominated the left side of the Chamber, resting in its cradle like a slumbering leviathan. Its hull gleamed now, fully restored, ancient metal polished and alive with runes and circuitry.
The ship was awake.
Harry felt it through the Force—a vast, hungry presence stretching, systems syncing, engines warming. The tunnel being expanded was aligned perfectly with the ship's launch trajectory.
Straight through the forest.
Straight into the open sky.
Harry broke into a run.
The Force surged through his legs, launching him across the Chamber floor faster than any human sprint. Stone cracked beneath his boots as he pushed himself harder, urgency burning through his control.
"DOBBY!" Harry shouted.
The name echoed, swallowed by the Chamber's immense acoustics.
Dobby paused and teleported out of the ship.
The face was Dobby's.
The expression was not.
His mouth curved into a smile that was too smooth, too knowing.
"Harry Potter," Dobby said.
The voice was layered.
Dobby's high, eager tone lay on top—but beneath it was another cadence, deeper, resonant, carrying centuries of arrogance and calculation.
Darth Bane.
"You came sooner than anticipated," the voice continued, lips barely moving. "Impressive. Even now, you surprise me."
Harry skidded to a halt several meters away, chest heaving, eyes locked onto his friend.
"What did you do to him?" Harry demanded, fury bleeding into his words despite his effort to contain it.
Dobby tilted his head—an imitation of innocence.
"I did nothing to him," Bane replied calmly. "I merely… accepted what he offered."
Dobby's hands trembled for a moment, fingers twitching.
"Master Harry," Dobby whispered suddenly, voice breaking through the overlay. "Dobby didn't mean—Dobby just wanted to help—"
The amber glow flared.
"And help you did," Bane said smoothly. "Your devotion made this inevitable."
Harry clenched his fists.
"You were teaching him to take control his body," Harry said. "Guiding him. Grooming him."
Bane chuckled—a sound that did not belong in Dobby's throat.
"Teaching?" he mused. "No, Harry Potter. I was preparing. You were never going to be mine. Your mind is a fortress. His… was a doorway."
Harry took a step forward.
"You don't get to leave," he said coldly. "Not in my ship. Not with my crew."
The ship hummed louder, lights brightening as if reacting to the tension.
"You misunderstand," Bane replied. "This was never your ship. It was always mine. You merely completed the work I began a millennium ago."
The tunnel behind him shuddered again, stone reshaping itself, widening further. Harry felt the castle above groan in protest.
"You'll tear Hogwarts apart," Harry snarled.
Bane shrugged Dobby's shoulders. "A regrettable side effect."
Dobby's face twitched again.
"Master Harry… please…" Dobby whispered, eyes flickering between brown and amber. "Dobby is scared."
Harry's heart twisted.
"Hold on," Harry said softly, shifting his tone, reaching through the Force.
For a heartbeat, the glow dimmed.
Then Bane laughed.
"You think compassion will save him?" Bane said. "How very Jedi of you."
Harry's eyes hardened.
"This ends now."
He raised his hand—and the Force answered.
The air between them compressed, invisible pressure slamming toward Dobby's body. Bane countered instantly, a shield flaring, runes on Dobby's clothes igniting as the force dissipated.
The clash sent a shockwave through the Chamber, rippling across the floor, rattling the starship's hull.
Bane took a step back—not from pain, but calculation.
"So," Bane said thoughtfully. "You've grown stronger than I predicted."
Harry didn't reply.
He was already moving again, Force propelling him forward in a blur, mind focused on one singular truth:
There was no universe where he stayed behind.
There was no future where Dobby left without him.
The stars were his dream.
And he would burn this Chamber to bedrock before he let anyone—Sith Lord or not—steal it.
The ship's engines roared louder, the tunnel nearly complete.
The ship rose.
At first it was subtle—so gentle that Harry felt it more through the Force than through sight. A deep, resonant hum rolled across the Chamber, vibrating through stone, bone, and magic alike. The ancient craft shuddered once, twice, then steadied as blue-white light pulsed along its hull.
Metal unfolded.
The landing struts that had held the starship cradled for centuries retracted smoothly into its underside, panels sealing with a sound like distant thunder. Runes along the ship's spine flared to life, one after another, scading toward the engines.
Harry's heart dropped.
"No—" he breathed.
The ship wasn't responding to manual commands.
It was on autopilot.
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the starship began to drift forward, nose aligning perfectly with the newly carved passageway that led out of the Chamber and toward the open sky beyond the Forbidden Forest.
Stone trembled again as the tunnel widened just enough for the vessel's massive bulk. Dust rained from the ceiling. Cracks spiderwebbed along the ancient pillars.
Hogwarts was feeling this. Harry knew it. Professors, wards, ghosts—everyone above would be in chaos by now.
Harry launched himself forward.
The Force surged through him, legs blurring, cloak snapping behind him as he sprinted toward the ship.
He was halfway there when something appeared in front of him.
Harry skidded to a halt just in time, boots scraping sparks from the stone.
Dobby stood between him and the ship.
No—stood was the wrong word.
Dobby hovered inches above the ground, robes rippling in an unseen current. The amber glow in his eyes burned brighter now, steady and cold. The air around him crackled with power, magic and Force twisted together into something dense and oppressive.
Harry slowly straightened.
"Move," Harry said, voice low and dangerous.
Dobby tilted his head, an echo of the elf Harry knew—but the expression was wrong. Calculating. Detached.
"I had hoped," Darth Bane said through Dobby's mouth, "to leave you behind quietly. A footnote. A relic of a world I have outgrown."
The ship's engines hummed louder, drifting farther down the tunnel.
"But you insist on complicating things."
Harry's fists clenched.
"You're not burying me here," Harry said. "And you're not taking him."
Bane smiled.
"Then I will do both."
Dobby raised one hand.
The holocron—Salazar Slytherin's holocron—floated free from his belt, spinning slowly in the air. Its surface split open like a mechanical flower, ancient glyphs igniting along its edges.
The Force roared.
Harry felt it immediately—an overwhelming surge as power poured out of the holocron and into Dobby's small frame. The air screamed. The Chamber's runes flared in response, ancient protections struggling to compensate.
Harry's eyes widened.
"That much power—Dobby, stop!" he shouted, reaching out through the Force. "You can't contain it!"
For a heartbeat, Dobby's face contorted.
"Master Harry—" Dobby gasped, clutching his head. "It hurts—"
The glow flared violently.
"I can," Bane snapped. "And I will."
The holocron shattered into shards of light, its knowledge and power flooding directly into Dobby. The pressure in the Chamber multiplied tenfold.
Harry barely had time to react.
A bolt of Force lightning exploded from Dobby's hand.
Harry twisted aside just in time.
The lightning tore through the space where he had stood, slamming into a pillar behind him. Stone vaporized. The pillar cracked clean through and collapsed in a roar of debris.
Harry rolled, came up on one knee, eyes blazing.
That was faster.
He raised his hand and answered in kind.
Black lightning surged from Harry's fingers, slashing across the Chamber. Dobby met it head-on, lightning colliding in midair with a deafening crack.
The impact sent a shockwave through the room.
Statues shattered. Runes flickered. The basilisk carvings along the walls split apart, ancient stone reduced to rubble.
"You've improved," Bane remarked calmly, lightning still pouring from Dobby's hand. "But you are still bound by sentiment."
Harry snarled and broke the clash, leaping sideways as a concussive blast tore through the floor where he had been. He flung a barrage of spells in rapid succession—stunning charms, cutting curses, raw telekinetic strikes—layered with Force-enhanced precision.
Dobby moved like a blur.
He deflected spells with casual flicks of his hand, warped trajectories mid-flight, tore chunks of stone from the floor and hurled them back with crushing force.
The Chamber screamed.
Above them, Hogwarts shook violently now. Somewhere far overhead, alarms were ringing. Wards strained, ancient magic protesting the violence inflicted upon its heart.
Harry vaulted over fallen debris, cloak singed, breathing hard.
"Dobby," he shouted, dodging another blast, "listen to me! You're not anyone's slave—you're my friend!"
For an instant, Dobby hesitated.
The lightning faltered.
Harry felt it—the opening.
He reached out with everything he had, Force wrapping around Dobby's mind like a lifeline.
You're not alone, Harry pushed. You never were.
Dobby screamed.
The sound was raw, terrified, utterly unguarded.
"No—GET OUT!" Bane roared, slamming a mental wall down with brutal force.
Harry staggered as backlash ripped through his mind.
Then it happened.
A Force push—vast, overwhelming, layered with ancient Sith alchemy—slammed into Harry like a mountain.
He flew.
Time slowed as Harry was hurled backward, body twisting helplessly through the air. He tried to recover, to soften the impact—
Too late.
His back hit one of the massive pillars with a sickening crack.
Pain exploded through his spine.
The world went white.
Harry slid down the stone, landing hard on the floor. His vision blurred, sound muffled, limbs refusing to respond.
Through dimming sight, he saw Dobby turn away.
The ship was nearly gone now, its bulk sliding deeper into the tunnel, engines glowing brighter as it prepared to ascend.
Dobby paused at the edge of the passageway.
For a moment—just a moment—his head turned back.
"Master Harry…" Dobby whispered.
There were tears in his eyes.
Then the glow hardened.
The tunnel collapsed.
Stone folded inward with catastrophic force, ancient magic and Sith power intertwining to seal it completely. Dust and debris thundered down, burying the passageway in tons of rock.
The ship vanished from sight.
Darkness pressed in around Harry like cold water.
And then—
Pop.
Air snapped back into existence.
Harry gasped, sucking in breath as if he'd been drowning.
"Master Harry!"
Winky's voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic. Harry's eyes fluttered open to see the small house-elf standing over him, her strange clothes torn at the hem, eyes wide and glistening.
Before he could even speak, Winky shoved something into his hands.
A broomstick.
It hummed with magic—old, refined, layered with enchantments meant for speed, stability, and brutal acceleration. The handle vibrated under Harry's fingers like a living thing eager to fly.
"Dobby is gone," Winky said desperately. "The ship is leaving. Master Harry must go—must get Dobby back!"
Harry pushed himself upright, pain flaring through his ribs and spine, but the Force wrapped around the injuries, dulling them just enough.
Harry swung onto the broom in one smooth motion, barely thinking. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the handle, he poured the Force into it.
The broom screamed.
It shot forward like a cannonball.
Stone walls blurred into streaks of gray as Harry tore through the tunnels, the broom responding not to touch but to thought. He didn't steer with hands or feet; he bent space with his mind, nudging, pulling, accelerating.
The passageways twisted violently, ancient corridors never meant for flight—but Harry didn't slow.
He forced them open.
Stone cracked and peeled away as he surged forward, dust exploding outward in shockwaves. His robes snapped violently behind him, eyes locked ahead.
Light—dim, gray—appeared ahead.
A window.
Harry didn't slow.
He went through it.
Glass exploded outward in a spray of shards as Harry and the broom burst into the corridor of the third-floor girls' lavatory, then straight out the opposite side before anyone could scream.
Cold air slammed into him.
Wind howled.
And then he saw it.
The Forbidden Forest was tearing itself apart.
Trees bent unnaturally. Branches snapped and twisted as something vast and unseen forced its way upward beneath the canopy. The earth itself seemed to ripple, as if the land was recoiling from what was passing through it.
The ship.
Harry's breath caught.
It was already ascending—slowly, deliberately—engines roaring with restrained power, shields shimmering as it broke free of the earth that had imprisoned it for centuries.
Author's Note:
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