Chapter Ten: Imposters and the Christmas Hols, Wrapping up the Year

The day after the Quidditch victory against Gryffindor was a Saturday, so, Harry took a rare chance to sleep in. He stretched luxuriously on his comfortable mattress, green silk comforters providing warmth, and pandiculated(1) for several moments before blearily opening his silver eyes, which turned several colors rapidly before once more settling on their natural shade of grey.

"Good morning, Master." Harry gave a start as he saw Regulus perched atop his little "nest" that rested at the top of Harry's wardrobe, the snake uncurling and stretching out his long body, before letting his wings come out to stretch those as well.

"Good morning to you, too, Regulus," Harry responded happily. "How has the hunting been going?"

"Wonderful, thank you for asking," said Regulus, who was quite possibly the most sophisticated snake Harry had ever met. "Caelum and I have been exploring the deeper parts of the Dark Forest… we came across a three-headed dog there, yesterday. It was quite strange…" he trailed off and Harry chuckled, before hastily preparing himself for the day.

Since it was mid December, he threw on his winter cloak before exiting his room with his satchel, and made his way through the tunnels back up to the Slytherin Common Room, where Draco was waiting for him.

"Took you long enough," Draco said, smiling slightly as he teased his brother.

"Is Potter still bed-ridden in the Hospital Wing?" asked Harry innocently, and Draco laughed.

"Probably, but being the Gryffindork he is, he'll be out soon, I assume." The two brothers walked in companionable silence to the Great Hall, where it was lunch time instead of breakfast time. Harry really had slept in… the week went by smoothly, as the Gryffindors were actually smart enough to know that they couldn't openly attack the Slytherins for fear of being caught by Professor Snape, or, more likely, the Slytherins snitching on the Gryffindors to Professor Snape, and they couldn't decide which one was worse.

In their freetime, Harry and Draco could be found in the second year Common Room looking up information on demiguises and grims. They couldn't actually attempt the transformation until puberty hit, but the Malfoys were known to be early bloomers, so that problem would be rectified over the summer hols. Speaking of the holidays, both boys had already mail-ordered their gifts for everyone as, apparently, their father wanted them to stay there for the Christmas holidays.

Harry and Draco didn't bother asking why, as they assumed that it was family business, and that their father was doing things that they might get in the way of. Naturally, the Gryffindork misfits heard of this fact, and were immediately suspicious of the boys.

"Draco," Harry commented one night as they were walking back to the Slytherin Dormitories, as he noticed that they were being not-so-subtly followed by Lardbottom and Weasel-bee. "I think that the Gryffindorks think that one of us is the Heir of Slytherin."

"Well, I know we have a rather impressive bloodline," said Draco, sniggering. "But I don't think it's that nobel."

"If we'd been descendants of Slytherin, I think one of us would have said something by now," Harry said dryly. "I mean, everyone knows how much you like to brag." Draco looked affronted for a moment before smiling sheepishly and shrugging his shoulders at his brother, because he couldn't deny a something that was fact, and that he openly admitted to be true.

"Let's just hope they don't do anything stupid," Harry added, and Draco scoffed, causing his brother to look at him funnily for a moment.

"Come on, Harry, they're Gryffindorks, of course they're going to do something stupid, it's in their nature." The two brother dissolved into a fit of laughter, leaving behind a pair of very confused blood-traitors. Thursday arrived, and with it came Harry and Draco's favorite class.

Double Potions with the Gryffindorks.

This was, of course, an excellent time to rack up Slytherin points and make the Gryffindors look like complete idiots due to Uncle Sev's blatant favoritism. The Potion they were in the midst of brewing was a Swelling Solution. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Uncle Sev prowled through the fumes, makings waspish remarks about the Gryffindors' work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco and Harry, who were sitting on the desk diagonal to Scarhead's and Weasel-bee's, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at the two of them, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you can say "Unfair".

Harry was paying close attention to the misfits, smelling that they were up to something, as mudblood Granger kept looking around, and Lardbottom looked as if he was going to piss his pants –– more so than usual, that is –– and even Scarhead and Weasel-bee were lacking their usual arrogance and looked rather nervous.

As Uncle Sev went off to bully Lardbottom on the fact that his Swelling Solution was little more than colored water, Scarhead made his move. From his bag, he pulled a Filibuster Quick-Start Firework, flicked it, and then chucked it into the air, where it landed pristinely into Goyle's potion.

"Protego!" called Harry, shielding himself and his brother from the splattering potion, almost missing when mudblood Granger snuck into Uncle Sev's storerooms. Key word being almost. His frown deepened when his Uncle didn't seem to notice, but he decided to use that as blackmail material for a later date, and instead focused on trying to get Potter in trouble. The majority of the class was covered in Swelling Solution, as it seemed only Harry and Daphne had bothered to raise shield charms, and the class was in utter chaos.

"Silence! SILENCE!" bellowed Uncle Sev, looking positively murderous. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught –– when I find out who did this ––" as students headed to the front to receive the antidote, Harry saw mudblood Granger come back out of the storeroom, the front of her robes bulging, and Harry knew that she'd stolen potions ingredients from the storeroom… but why?

When everyone had taken a swig of the antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered. "I shall make sure that person is expelled." Harry smiled deviously and raised his hand, composing himself to look rather frightened, and Scarhead's face instantly whitened.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Snape, automatically interested in what evidence his honorary nephew and godson had to say.

"Professor Snape, sir," he began, rather shakingly. "I saw who threw the firework" –– Potter's face was chalky white now, and the other misfits seemed to catch on as well, looking extremely panicked –– "I can even offer my memories as proof. As soon as you walked over to inspect Mr. Longbottom's potion, Potter pulled the firework from his bag and tossed it into Goyle's potion. It was deliberate, sir."

A twisted, sadistic smile was now pulling its way onto Snape's face as he looked at Potter cruelly.

"That's a lie!" protested Weasel-bee instantly, shaking his finger at Harry. "Malfoy's got it out for Jamie –– he would never ––"

"Silence, you daft child," snapped Snape, and Weasel-bee quieted instantly. "Your memory, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry nodded diligently and held his wand up to his forehead, copying the memory of Scarhead tossing the firework into Goyle's potion.

"No one is to move an inch until I return," barked Snape, and they all sat quietly when he entered his office –– Harry noticed that Granger looked rather panicked at this, so he winked at her, and then she turned even more of a chalky white, knowing that Harry had seen her –– and he exited a few minutes later, still smiling victoriously.

"I'm sorry that took so long," he said silkily. "I had to make a floo call…. and copy the memory a few times, of course." Scarhead seemed to pale and then, moments later, another figure walked out of Snape's office, most likely having come through the floo.

It was Lily Potter, who was absolutely seething with rage.

"We're going to the Headmaster's office," she said quietly, which was almost worse than he wailing rage, as Scarhead knew he was in deep shit. "Come along now, James." Smug smile still in place, Uncle Sev nodded to the rest of the class.

"Class dismissed."

Word of Potter's punishment soon broke out. To Snape and the Slytherins' dismay, he wasn't to be expelled. Two hundred points had been taken from Gryffindor, putting them in last place and quickly making Scarhead the bad guy to his fellow Gryffindors. His Quidditch privileges had also been revoked, causing Wood to go berserk, and he had detention every night… with Filch, and every afternoon… with Snape.

For the Slytherins, it was sweet, sweet revenge. No one there like Potter, at all, especially those with Death Eater parents, as he was the cause of the Dark Lord's downfall and, thus, the cause of the downfall of some of their parents. It didn't matter that he probably wasn't even aware of what he was doing the night that he vanquished the Dark Lord, but they still held a grudge against him for it in true Slytherin style.

A week after the 'Potions Incident', as it had been deemed by many –– really, people were so imaginative in naming things –– there was an announcement on the bulletin board in the Slytherin Common Room stating the formation of a dueling club.

"Oh, this should be good," said Harry snidely, looking at it. "I bet you ten galleons that it'll be Lockhart running it."

"You're on," said Nott, smiling. "It'll be Flitwick for sure, he was a dueling champion when he was younger, you know."

"Well," said Harry, shaking his head. "I guess I'll have to go to prove you wrong. Who knows? I might actually duel someone worthy of my time." The day seemed to pass quickly, and almost everyone hurried to the Great Hall after dinner had been cleaned, where the tables had been lined up together to form a dueling platform.

Nott groaned and handed Harry his ten galleons as Lockhart walked onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Uncle Sev, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions –– for full details, see my published works."

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile, and Uncle Sev's scowl merely deepened, and Harry noted that he did not like the fact that he was being called an assistant like in some muggle magic show. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry –– you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

The Slytherins snorted in unison. Like Lockhart could ever duel on par with Snape, who was an accomplished duelist. He had to be to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle. The man in question's upper lip was curling, and Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Uncle Sev had been looking at him like that, he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry muttered to Draco, who chuckled, both seeing their honorary Uncle's harsh death glare aimed at Lockhart.

"One –– two –– three ––"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted from his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. The Slytherins cheered loudly, smirking at each other.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm –– as you see, I've lost my wand –– ah, thank you, Miss Brown –– yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy –– however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…" Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you would like to help me ––"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart paired Lardbottom with mudblood Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Scarhead and Weasel-bee first.

"I think I'll split up the dream team," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy –– Harry –– you come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Mr. Weasley, can pair with Draco. Miss Granger, with Miss Bulstrode."

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Potter barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents –– only to disarm them –– we don't want any accidents –– one…two...three––"

Scarhead swung his wand high, but Harry had already started on "two": his spell hit Scarhead so hard that he stumbled, but continued on anyways.

"Rictusempra!" Scarhead shouted, but Harry deflected it easily with a simple shield charm.

"I said Disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Scarhead fell to his knees, laughing, as his rebounded spell hit him in the stomach full on, doubled over with laughter, barely able to move. Snape begrudgingly cancelled the charm on Potter and the fighting stopped.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan… Careful there, Miss Fawcett… Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot ––"

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eye glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair –– Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you––"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Lardbottom's fat face turned pink. "How about Mr. Harry Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

Snape moved closer to Harry, who smiled reassuringly at him, and Snape whispered in his ear.

"Make sure to make him look the fool he is, Harrison."

"Of course, Uncle Sev," Harry replied, smiling up at him.

"Professor, could you show me that blocking spell again?" Harry heard Potter say.

"Scared?" muttered Harry, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Scarhead out of the corner of his mouth.

"Three –– two –– one –– go!" Lockhart shouted.

Harry raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded, and a long, black snake shot out of it and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Scarhead standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it.."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike." To Harry's utmost surprise, Potter began speaking to it.

"Leave him alone!" he could hear Potter his.

"You stupid snake," Harry hissed back, not one to be one-upped by Potter. "Come back here. Come to me… little snake."

"Don't listen to him!" Potter hissed, "Come with me!" The snake made to strike, but then returned to Harry, who was hissing soothingly, and Harry smirked as the snake coiled around his arm, the students gaping. The scene had appeared that Potter was trying to attack Justin with the snake, and Harry had saved him.

"What are you playing at?" mudblood FF shouted, before calling out to Harry, his eyes softening. "Thanks, Malfoy!" The Slytherins looked upon him proudly as he held the snake softly in his arms, still hissing soothing words at it.

"What's your name, little snake?" for the snake was a magical breed, a coal-ashwinder, one of the few who lived past an hour, though it was still a hatchling.

"My mother called me Char," the male snake slithered, burrowing itself into Harry's robes for warmth. "You wouldn't happen to know somewhere I could stay, would you?"

"I've got a magical snake, with wings, his name is Regulus," said Harry. "I'm sure he'll show you the ropes of living with me, Char." The snake gave a little snake like smile and allowed himself to sleep in Harry's arms.

After the Parseltongue Incident, everyone was certain that it was Potter who was the heir of Slytherin, and not Malfoy, and Harry wondered about the school population's stupidity. Sure, it'd looked like he'd saved the mudblood when, really, he was saving the snake, but that didn't mean that everyone had to automatically assume that Potter was the many times great-grandson of the most noble of the four Founders!

They were even more convinced, however, when Justin Finch-Fletchley was found Petrified along with Nearly-Headless Nick, and Jamie Potter was the only other person there when Peeves brought the situation to the attention of everyone else.

Soon, everyone had left for the Christmas holidays –– Daphne parting with a swift kiss to Harry's cheek –– and it was only Harry, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and three fourths of the Gryffindork misfits still in the castle (Lardbottom had been ordered to come home).

Harry and Draco were making their way back to the Common Room when they saw Crabbe and Goyle, looking rather lost, stuck in a conversation with Percy Weasley.

"There you are," Harry drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall at this time? We've been looking for you; we wanted to show you something really funny." Harry glanced witheringly at Percy.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!" Harry sneered, and he and Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow them, who followed rather hastily in a very un-Crabbe and Goyle style.

"That Peter Weasley ––" began Draco, but, surprisingly, Crabbe interrupted him.

"Percy." Harry and Draco exchanged looks.

They aren't Crabbe and Goyle. Firstly, Crabbe and Goyle do not hurry, and they certainly don't speak, Harry projected.

Do a brief scan, offered Draco. Harry did so, and there was a moment of awkward silence.

It's Weasel-bee and Scarhead under polyjuice.

Let's act natural and have a bit of fun, then.

"Whatever," Draco continued, as if he'd never stopped talking, nor that Weasel-bee had interrupted him. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

He gave a short, derisive laugh. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged excited looks.

Harry and Draco walked to the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

"What's the password again?" Harry asked Potter, trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Er ––"

"Oh, yeah –– pureblood!" Harry continued, laughing inwardly, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. They marched through it and entered the Slytherin Common Room.

"Wait here," said Draco, rushing off, leaving Scarhead and Weasel-bee alone with Harry, which made them rather uneasy, and Harry was enjoying watching them squirm.

"That'll give you a laugh," said Draco, tossing the Daily Prophet at 'Crabbe and Goyle'. Weasel-bee's eyes widened as he read the clipping.

INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts

Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a muggle car. Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley's resignation.

"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately." Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

"Well?" said Draco impatiently as Scarhead handed the paper back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Scarhead bleakly.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Harry scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were purebloods, the way they behave." Crabbe's –– or rather, Weasel-bee's –– face contorted with fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" taunted Draco, very much enjoying this.

"Stomachache," Weasel-bee grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Draco, sniggering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loved Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Harry scrunched up his face, and it morphed into that of mudblood Creevey's, snapping pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of the mudblood: "Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I like your shoes, please, Potter?" He dropped his hands and looked at Scarhead and Weasel-bee, his face returning to normal.

"What's the matter with the two of you?"

Far too late, Scarhead and Weasel-bee forced themselves to laugh, and Harry and Draco laughed inwardly at their stupidity.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Draco slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up mudblood Granger. and people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

Crabbe and Goyle appeared to wait with bated breath, and Harry and Draco knew then why they were there. Harry continued the act.

"I wish I knew who it is," he said petulantly. "I could help them." Weasel-bee's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual.

"You must have some idea who's behind it all," said Scarhead, and Harry had to admit, it was unnerving seeing Goyle talk.

"You know we haven't, Goyle," snapped Draco. "How many times do I have to tell you? And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing –– the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time… I hope it's Granger," he said with relish, knowing how to push Scarhead's and Weasel-bee's buttons.

"Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" asked Goyle.

"Oh, yeah...whoever it was was expelled," said Harry. "They're probably still rotting in Azkaban." Actually, he was now the gatekeeper of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid. He shifted in his chair.

"Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?" That was a blatant lie, Uncle Fudge would never allow it.

"Yeah…." Draco continued. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff… but I won't bother you with the details of where it's hidden." They noticed that Harry and Ron were changing back into themselves, and they began to leave. Before they were out of the door, they froze as Harry said lazily.

"Oh, and Scarhead, Weasel-bee, if you'd done your research, you'd have known that Crabbe and Goyle never talk. Now get. Out. of. our. common. room." The two boys fled, obviously horrified at getting talked, and Harry and Draco sniggered and high-fived.

"Stupid blood traitors," said Draco, looking quite smug.

The rest of the holidays went by smoothly, the boys getting mountains of gifts from all of their pureblood contacts, of course, but Harry particularly liked the cloak Daphne had gotten him. Crabbe and Goyle had eventually found their way back to the Slytherin Common Room, and they'd spent the rest of their time resting in peace, as the Gryffindorks avoided them like the plague.

Life was good.

After that, there weren't many incidents between the Gryffindorks and the Malfoy brothers, as they were still avoiding them rather avidly, to say the least, all holed up in their research of theirs, trying to figure out what on Earth was going on with the Chamber of Secrets. For a while, it seemed as though the Heir had lost their nerve, as the attacks slowed down for a bit, and things slowly started going back to normal.

Of course, Harry and Draco, as well as a handful of other Slytherins, had a free period during Defense Against the Dark Arts in which they didn't do much other than talk strategy and wonder what in Merlin's name the Heir would be up to at this point, and trying to figure out who the next attack would be on.

They found their answer towards the end of the term, when mudblood Granger and another Ravenclaw mudblood were found in the hall, Petrified, a small hand mirror clutched in Granger's palm… so the girl had figured out that the Slytherin monster was a Basilisk.

Harry had to give her points for that, honestly. She might be a mudblood, but she sure was a smart mudblood. Things only got worse after that. The attacks picked up again, and things inside the castle seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Quidditch was cancelled, Hagrid was brought back to Azkaban, and the Board of Governors was trying to kick Dumbledore out and close the school.

That, of course, all changed when Ginny Weasley was apparently kidnapped and brought down to the bottom of the Chamber of Secrets, where her skeleton would lie forever. It fascinated Harry in an odd, morbid sort of way that someone would kidnap the person who brought them to life, kill them, and take their place in the world, though as a different person. The magic in the Dark Lord's "horcrux" was truly astounding, and a lovely piece of magic.

Potter, as always, had to play the hero, and the school watched as, miraculously, he began to pick up the pieces of life at Hogwarts and put them back together. He'd slain the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor, which he'd pulled out of the Sorting Hat, destroyed the diary, and rescued poor little Ginny Weasley.

Of course, the Dark Lord would be angry with another defeat at the hands of the blood-traitor, but, as the diary hadn't been a true horcrux, all was well. However, Potter was now more arrogant than ever, in his usual peacock strutting style, and that was never good, but Slytherin still narrowly pulled a House Cup win over Gryffindor by twenty points, this year, increasing their previous victory by ten points.

That year, there were no end-of-year-exams, except for the OWL and NEWT students, so, when the scarlet engine rolled into Hogsmeade station, everyone was relaxed and ready for the summer holidays.

(1) - Pandiculation is another term for yawning and stretching at the same time.

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the review, follows, and favorites. It means a lot to me! I'll keep up the several updates a week, but I don't think I'll be posting all of them on one day anymore. Instead, I'll just post the chapters as I finish them instead of waiting to have three completed at a time. Unless you like the three reviews at a time, of course. Leave a review and tell me what you think.

As I was going through this, I understood that there may be some questions as to why the Dark Lord is gone even though, in the first chapter, he said he would stage his defeat.

He took Harry to the Malfoys first, and then went back to Potter cottage, where Dorea Potter engaged him in a duel, having arrived there to babysit the twins. He eventually got annoyed and killed her, before shooting the curse at the child, which rebounded and hit him, actually making the weaker twin the Chosen One.

This, however, is in his favor, as he knows that the child will never be able to overpower him in a duel.

As in canon, Voldemort will return to full power during the gang's fourth year at Hogwarts, as he wants Potter's blood to ensure that nothing can stop him.

Please leave a review, as I live for them, and don't forget to follow/favorite.

Cheers!

-Sam