Chapter Ten: Enemies of the Heir
1992
"Morning," Chase yawned as she stumbled into the kitchen.
"Where were you at three-thirty?" Severus asked from behind the Daily Prophet.
"Asleep." Chase opened the cupboard. "Severus. I know it's hard for you to imagine, but there are people in this world who are shorter than you, and one of them lives in this house. Stop putting the coffee cups on the top shelf. Ouch!" She shook her hand where the cup had fallen on it, and shot Severus a murderous look. "Thanks, asshole."
"Watch your mouth," he said, lowering his wand. "And where, exactly, were you sleeping?"
"On the couch. Damien and I missed the first train back from Merseyside."
"And you couldn't have let me know?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, dear uncle, but we don't have a telephone." She reached for the percolator. "I don't even think there's a line running to this part of the street, actually."
Severus grunted in reply.
Chase sat down at the table and frowned at her hand. "That actually did hurt, Severus."
"Poor baby," he said with a sneer. "Do you need me to kiss it and make it all better?"
"No, I need you to stop putting the coffee cups where I can't fucking reach them!"
"What did I tell you about your mouth?"
"Something I didn't listen to."
"Cut the attitude. And by the way, you're grounded for the next two weeks."
Chase drank her coffee in silence, smirking to herself. Truthfully, she'd expected a harsher punishment for staying out so far past her curfew. And... Well, she and Damien had missed their original train back from Merseyside, she thought as she rinsed out the cup and went to her bedroom. But not out of simple negligence, and if Severus suspected anything different, Chase wouldn't see the outside world again until she was seventeen. But as long as he believed they'd just lost track of time...
She stretched out on her bed, folding her hands under her head, and closed her eyes. It had been a fun trip; just her and Damien, her first trip to the beach. The two of them had done all of the "silly love-song crap," as he put it; holding hands, stealing little kisses when they thought no one was looking, laughing, and enjoying one of the year's only really beautiful days.
Towards sunset, Chase had found a small, secluded area and pointed it out to Damien. A quick exploration revealed that the area wasn't dangerous, and after waiting a while to see if one of the lifeguards would yell at them to get out of it, they laid out their towels and sat, watching the last rays of the sun setting into the ocean. When night had really fallen, they had shared what Chase had thought would be their last kiss of the evening... Except that this one was different. More passionate, and with an unidentifiable longing. It was a long time before they'd broken apart, when a gang of passing Muggle teenagers had started hollering at them to "get a room!" Stupid kids, Chase thought contemptuously. It would have been nice to know where that kiss would lead them-
Tap-tap-tap. Chase looked up; an owl was tapping at her window. "Severus!" She yelled as she let the owl in. "Book list just came!"
"Bring it here," he called back.
She pulled the envelopes (There's two? she thought curiously) off the owl's leg and headed back into the kitchen, opening the first one. "What's up with all the Lockhart books?" She asked as she resumed her seat at the table.
Severus looked around the newspaper. "The what books?"
"Almost all the new books are by Gilderoy Lockhart." She handed the list to Severus, who read it in wide-eyed horror.
"He didn't..."
"Who didn't?"
Severus sighed. "Chase, Gilderoy Lockhart is your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Ooh, really?" Chase said, giggling. "So tell me, should I give him bedroom eyes or kiss-me lips?"
"You disgust me," Severus growled.
She laughed and opened the second envelope. A blue-and-bronze badge fell out. "Severus," she said, grinning as she picked it up. "Looks like your disgusting niece is a prefect."
"Congratulations," he said, and for the first time that morning, he sounded pleased.
XXX
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.
The words painted on a corridor wall had spread through the school like wildfire, as had Professor Binns's story about the origins of the Chamber of Secrets. Chase, as a prefect, was trying to reassure the nervous first-year Ravenclaws that they wouldn't be in danger as long as they followed the rules, and all the while wondering how many of them actually believed her. If they didn't, she couldn't blame them; she didn't half believe it, herself.
Damien, who was also a prefect and had similar duties and concerns from the Gryffindors, was less worried. "It's just an old wives' tale," he said to Chase as they walked down to the dungeons before a Potions lesson. "I mean, come on. It's not like a cat has any real magical powers, right? I have a wand; that's got to be some help."
"Damien," Chase said, a note of exasperation creeping into her voice. "The thing in the Chamber of Secrets is something Salazar Slytherin put there. The 'enemies of the Heir' are Muggleborns. It's just good luck none of the students or professors were there. You mark my words, unless Dumbledore does something, there's going to be attacks on Muggleborns."
"Well, when?" He spread his arms. "There's a bunch of us walking around right the fuck now. Where is this monster, and why aren't all the Muggleborns in the school Petrified?"
"With everyone on the alert?" Chase raised her eyebrows, and they settled into their usual spot against the wall. "The monster is controlled by someone. Why would they set it loose when everyone's sleeping with one eye open and looking over their shoulders?"
"Controlled by someone," Damien said. "You don't mean Potter, do you? After last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you saw it, didn't you?"
"Saw what?"
Damien looked at her, aghast. "You didn't go to the Dueling Club meeting last night?"
"No," Chase said, stretching her back against the wall. "Severus told me Lockhart had organized it. I might have gone, just to see Severus hand Lockhart his arse on a platter, but I wasn't feeling well." She cleared her throat pointedly.
"I see," he said, leaning back against the wall and apparently overwhelmed by feminine mystique.
"So what did Potter do?"
"Er... Draco Malfoy set a snake on him. I don't think I've heard the spell he used before."
"Serpensortia?"
"Yeah, that was it. I think your uncle gave it to him. I think Malfoy conjured a cobra."
"Christ," Chase said. "He gave that to a second-year?" The dungeon door flew open then, and the fifth-years began filing in. Chase dropped her voice. "Well, aside from my uncle's questionable spells..."
"The snake went after a Hufflepuff," Damien said, picking a seat on Chase's right side at a table near the back of the room. "Looked like it was going to take the kid's head off, but Potter went after it and started, I dunno, hissing at it. And the snake backed off. That Hufflepuff was hacked off, though."
"Hissing?" Chase said, frowning. "Like a Parselmouth?"
"What's a Parselmouth?"
"It's a wizard who can talk to snakes. It's a rare ability, really rare; Slytherin himself was known for it. It's not usually the mark of a decent witch or wizard, though. But if people really think Potter is the Heir-"
"Miss Carter, kindly shut your mouth and pay attention," Severus snapped from the front of the classroom.
Chase jumped and turned forward. "Yes, sir." When he'd turned back to the board, Chase bent low over her notes. "Potter's not Slytherin's heir, and I don't care who says differently."
"Of course not," Damien said, assembling the day's ingredients. "I didn't expect Slytherin's heir to be in Gryffindor."
XXX
"Severus." Minerva McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder. "There's been another attack. Come with me."
Curious, he followed her. Had one of the Slytherins been attacked? Not likely, he thought, but why else would Minerva call him?
They entered the hospital wing, past a bed where Hermione Granger lay stiff as a board, and down the row to the last bed in the ward. Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains aside, and Severus grabbed the bedside table to steady himself.
Chase lay on the bed, stiff as a board, her eyes open and glassy, her arm outstretched as though reaching for something.
"She had this mirror with her," Minerva said, holding it up for him to see. It was the small makeup mirror Mrs. Grant had given Chase for Christmas. "Do you know what she might have been doing with it?"
He shook his head, still trying to take in the sight before him.
Madam Pomfrey came up beside him. "Pomona told me the mandrakes will be ready in a couple of weeks," she said quietly. "In the meantime, if there's anything you need..."
He nodded, turned, and left, grateful not to run into anyone on the way down to his office. He stayed there for the rest of the night, the image of Chase's petrified body seeming to press on his eyeballs. He thought of the mirror. Why had Minerva asked what Chase had been doing with it? Checking her makeup, surely; wasn't that what girls did with them? He was about to fall asleep with this thought, when another one came that jolted him wide-awake.
She wasn't wearing any makeup.
Severus sat up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Chase not wearing makeup was unremarkable by itself; despite Mrs. Grant's finest efforts, there wasn't much in the way of cosmetics for someone with skin as pale as Chase's, and what little she did wear often had the unfortunate side effect of making her look like a badly-painted china doll. Having the mirror out when she didn't have any makeup to check...
When he entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, Severus learned that Dumbledore had been removed. Wonderful, he though angrily, stabbing at his eggs. How much more could possibly go wrong?
Two weeks later, he stood over a large brass cauldron, frowning as he stirred the contents within. The Mandrake Restorative Draught was done; he ladled it into five flasks and took them to the hospital wing.
"Thank you, Severus," Madam Pomfrey said, taking four of them off him and nodding towards Chase's bed.
He walked over and carefully poured the potion down Chase's throat. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she coughed, her arm fell, and she said, "Basilisk!"
"What?" Madam Pomfrey said, hurrying over to Chase's bed.
"That thing petrifying the students! Hermione Granger told me it was a Basilisk!"
"It was!" Granger's voice said from the other end of the ward. She was sitting up, her eyes bright with excitement. Severus had learned to both love and hate that look. "Harry was hearing it talk -he's a Parselmouth, you know- and I figured it had to be some kind of serpent. So I went to the library and found out it was a Basilisk, and I ran into Chase on the way back and told her to use a mirror to look around corners if she had one."
Chase nodded vigorously. "We saw its reflection."
The door banged open at that moment, and a second-year Hufflepuff came puffing in. "Madam Pomfrey! Professor Dumbledore is back, and there's a feast in the Great Hall. He says if the students are all un-petrified, send them down."
"Very well," she said. "They'll be along once I give them all a clean bill of health."
Severus, sensing his job was done, left and made his way down to the Great Hall. Twenty minutes later, Chase entered, and the Ravenclaw table stood and cheered. Damien left the Gryffindor table to meet her in the middle of the hall, where he and Chase stood wrapped in a kiss for several long moments. Sudden, inexplicable jealousy flared in Severus upon seeing them, but he pushed it down and concentrated on his plate.