Disclaimer: I wrote this story. I didn't create the characters. JK Rowling and Marvel did that.

Beta read by the awesome Nyx the Author. Thanks as always!

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Chapter 10: Friends and Foes

December 25

Harry and Ron blundered down the hallway, still trying to get used to their new forms. They had taken the Polyjuice potion about a half an hour ago, so they were certainly less prone to crashing into furniture now, but the added weight and height of Crabbe and Goyle's bodies made their gaits very different.

Harry wished that Hermione had come with them as planned, but she had been elusive and refused to come out of the bathroom stall. She was always the planner of their trio, and he felt quite lost without her advice.

Finally, they saw someone coming toward them down the dark hallway, but unfortunately, it was Percy Weasley, giving them a suspicious look. "What are you two doing out? It's curfew soon," he asked.

Harry very nearly spoke to Percy telepathically out of habit, but got his mouth moving just in time. "We're g-going back to our d-dormitories," he said in as deep a voice as he could muster, feeling more self-conscious than ever about his stutter.

Thankfully, the elder Weasley didn't seem to notice anything amiss. "Well then, you'd best turn yourself around and actually go down the right hallway," he said, pointing down the passage they'd just left.

"Thanks," Ron said, echoing Crabbe's dull tones remarkably well.

Finally, they ran into Malfoy, who first berated them for wandering off, then led them back to a blank wall and opened it up with the password of 'pure-blood'. Honestly, Harry thought quietly to Ron, could they be more predictable?

Ron snorted in amusement, which earned a reproving look from Malfoy. Ron hurriedly wiped his nose with his sleeve and said, "'Scuse me."

They took seats in the middle of the common room, which reminded Harry of an aquarium at the zoo. One wall was taken up by windows that were clearly showing an underwater perspective of the Black Lake next to the castle. Harry could have almost sworn he saw the Giant Squid drift by in the distance.

Once Malfoy was comfortably situated, he asked, "Didn't I see the older Weasley talking to you? Peter, or something?"

"Percy," Ron corrected immediately.

Malfoy gave him a scathing look. "Like it matters! What did the blood-traitor want with you two?"

Ron screwed up his face in anger, and Harry cut in, thinking fast. "Asked us ab-bout the Heir of S-Slytherin."

Malfoy laughed. "Like you two would know anything. If I don't know who it is, you two certainly would be clueless. As usual."

Harry's heart sank. Ron tried again, "But you must know something, Draco…"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You know I don't, I've told you a thousand ties. All I know is the Chamber was opened about 50 years ago, and last time one of the Mudbloods died. I wonder how long it'll take this time. Hope it's Granger."

Ron tensed and Harry whispered frantically, Calm down, and could see Ron force himself to relax.

Harry was irritated now that they'd wasted so much time with this complicated potion and scheme, and asked Malfoy something he'd been wondering for all of first term. "D-Draco, why have we left P-Potter alone this year?"

Malfoy looked at him, amused. "I like the stutter, Goyle. You sound just like the little ninny. But as I keep telling you, my father has ordered me to back off him and make an attempt at being his 'friend' next year, once tensions have cooled. It'll be that much easier to stab him in the back if he thinks we're chums. Understood?"

Even without knowing that plan, Harry knew there was never any chance of him and Malfoy becoming friends. Slytherins' minds worked in strange ways. He nodded and glanced over at Ron. His eyes widened in horror at seeing his friends' hair slowly turning red again. Judging by Ron's similarly terrified face, the same thing was happening to Harry.

The boys bolted up from the couches and Ron grunted, "Ate too much. I think I'm gonna spew."

Malfoy looked horrified and made no move to follow as both Gryffindors ran to the common room entrance and took off down the hallway.

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January 5

Guys, why are we out here? Harry asked as he followed the twins down a dark hallway. It was far past curfew, and he was feeling anxious about running into Filch, or worse, Snape. They'd coaxed him out of bed somehow, and in his half-asleep stupor, he couldn't exactly remember what they'd promised him to accomplish it.

Fred's voice echoed in his head. Patience, Harry! We're almost there, and we'll tell you everything.

The twins had perfected telepathy between themselves within a month of practice, but it had taken quite a while longer for their empathy to develop enough to reach anyone else. At this point, the only person they talked to this way was Harry. They didn't want anyone else to know when they could so easily use it for pranking.

They led him to the trophy room on the third floor. Once they'd checked to ensure the coast was clear, George said, All right, Harry. Here's the plan. We really think the whole school needs a pick-me-up with all of this Heir of Slytherin nonsense scaring everyone.

Fred picked up his twin's train of thought. Right. And one of the best ways to accomplish this is with the world's greatest medicine.

They looked expectantly at Harry, who sighed tiredly. Laughter?

They beamed at him, and George replied, Precisely! So we're planning a school wide prank, and we want you in on it. We figure if it becomes known that you're helping bring smiles to Hogwarts, people will be less suspicious of you.

Harry felt a bit alarmed at the thought. If we want people to know we're behind the prank, why are we sneaking around at night?

Fred tapped his own nose with a knowing smirk. We need to fine tune it a bit before we roll it out to the whole school, and this is where we'll do it. Now, be a dear and go into the supply closet two doors down. We need some of Madame Glossy's Silver Polish and a large tub of Winky Crockett's Elbow Grease for our base ingredients.

We'll start setting things up here, George said.

Grumbling to himself, Harry obeyed and walked down to the closet, shutting the door behind him. The last thing he needed was a prefect sneaking up on him.

It took some time to locate the cleaning supplies with just his wand light to guide him, but he finally opened the closet door again and checked to see if the coast was clear. Toward the end of the hallway, however, he saw someone staring out the window. Heart in his throat, he peered through the crack on the door, waiting for them to move on. After waiting for what felt like hours, they hadn't moved an inch.

Oh no, Harry thought. Not again.

Quick as he could, he rushed down the hall to the figure and nearly screamed when he realized what he was seeing. It was Ron, and he had a look of complete terror frozen on his face.

Harry felt like he was going to throw up. Then realizing the danger he was in, he ran back down to the trophy room to warn the twins.

He burst into the room, and saw them bent over a piece of parchment, facing away from him and towards one of the trophy cases. GUYS, he shouted to their minds. We need to leave now! Ron's been petrif- guys?

They hadn't moved an inch when he'd shouted. Full of dread, he kneeled down next to them and put a hand on Fred's own, but immediately pulled away in horror. It was like touching an ice sculpture. Harry could see the reflection of the twins' faces in the trophy case, and both boys just looked confused, like they couldn't believe their eyes.

Harry could barely think, but he looked down at the parchment they were holding, and it took a moment to understand what he was seeing. Finally, his terror filled brain processed the fact that he was looking at a moving map of Hogwarts, with dots placing every student and staff member. With a cry of relief, he saw the name 'Percy Weasley' walking slowly towards his location. Thank Merlin. If there was one person he'd want to find him right now, it was Percy. Grabbing the map and folding it quickly, he stuffed it in his pocket and rushed out to meet the prefect.

The eldest Weasley had hustled him off to bed immediately and gotten the order of events from Harry's panicked gibbering only after they were safe back in Gryffindor tower. Once he'd understood what Harry was telling him, he promised the boy that he'd keep any mention of Harry's involvement quiet, and hurried away to wake McGonagall.

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January 6

The Weasley twins had accidentally achieved one of their goals. While many students had suspected Harry of the attacks previously, absolutely no one thought he would attack the Weasleys. Several people came up to him in the Great Hall that morning to apologise for treating him badly in the months before. Harry wanted to be mad at them, to accept their apologies, to feel something. He just felt numb.

Neville quietly sat down across from Harry, his face pensive. "Harry," he said. "What happened?"

Haltingly, Harry explained what had gone on the night before, careful to only let his friends hear. These past few months, Neville had slowly been growing into a good friend, even if he was perpetually terrified. Harry knew the pudgy boy wouldn't share what he was told.

Once he'd finished the tale, Neville put up a shaky hand, as if asking a question in class. "But why was Ron there?" he asked. "I thought you just went with the twins."

Harry had been pondering that question all night, and had only come up with one possibility that made sense. He must have heard us get up, he explained. I guess he followed us out without us realizing, and the Heir caught him before he could join us.

Neville nodded sadly. "I'm here for you, Harry. Just let me know if there's anything I can do."

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Harry was walking through the second floor corridor, thoughts whirling in his head, when he stepped in a puddle. Confused, he looked around and noticed the sound of sobbing coming from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Well acquainted with the ghost from months of brewing Polyjuice potion, he went into the restroom to see what the problem was this time.

Pushing open the door, he called, "Myrtle?"

"Who's there?" she shrieked. "Come to throw something else at me?"

He waded through the water that covered the floor and asked, "It's m-me, Myrtle. Why would I throw s-something at you?"

She poked her head out of her stall and glared. "I don't know! Here I was, minding my own business, and somebody throws a book through my head! It washed out somewhere near the sinks."

She gave another heartbroken sob and plunged into a toilet, flooding more water onto Harry's trainers.

Curious, Harry sloshed over to the sinks and found a small black book with 'T.M. RIDDLE' embossed on the cover in gold lettering. He opened it and flipped through the pages, rather disappointed to find it completely blank. He almost set it down on the floor again, but then shrugged and put it in his bag. Why not use a perfectly good journal? Perhaps it would be a good way to order his thoughts and solve this mystery.

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That night, he had finished his homework and had gone up to bed. He and Hermione were devastated by what had happened the previous evening, but it was nothing compared to Percy and Ginny. They had practically lost three siblings in one night, and had spent most of the day consoling their heartbroken mother in the hospital wing. Ginny had especially looked strung out and exhausted in the common room, staring at her hands and struggling not to cry.

Harry sat on his bed and opened up the journal, determined to figure out some kind of logic behind the attacks. He picked up a quill and wrote, "Known Victims" at the top of the first page.

Before he could write more, however, the black ink he'd written in seemed to be sucked into the page, vanishing before his eyes. How strange. Perhaps it was a joke item from Zonko's, one that turned ink invisible? He dropped a spot of ink in the middle of the page, and it too disappeared after a moment.

Then to his astonishment, words in a different handwriting began to form on the page. It was an elegant handwriting that looked like each word was formed with care.

"Hello there. May I ask who is writing?"

Harry shrugged. A book that talked back was far from the strangest thing he'd encountered in the past year. He dipped his quill in the inkpot and scribbled, "My name is Harry Potter. Are you T.M. Riddle?"

The writing paused for a moment, then returned, "Tom Riddle, yes. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. How did you find this book?"

"Someone tried to throw it away in a bathroom."

"Indeed? What a shame. May I ask, what did you mean by 'Known Victims' a minute ago?"

Harry thought for a minute. Well, he'd meant to get his thoughts in order. Perhaps talking it through with an outside observer would help. "Well, it's like this, Tom…"

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The memory of Tom Riddle Jr. considered his next move as the Potter boy described Tom's handiwork back to him. While he was furious that little Ginny had enough resolve to actually throw HIM away, it had been a brilliant stroke of luck that the one who would pick him up was his target, Harry Potter! Everything Ginny had told him about the boy was fascinating. The Boy-Who-Lived who had defeated his future self by some stroke of luck and magic. A telepathic prodigy with a stutter, and a Parselmouth to boot! Brave, yet shy, intelligent yet foolhardy. Tom knew he'd have to tread carefully with how he approached this.

At first, he'd planned to earn the boy's trust by showing him the memory of framing Hagrid as the Heir of Slytherin. But a cursory taste of the boy's life essence made him hesitate. Ginny had tasted of innocence and impossible dreams. This child, however, tasted like… well, himself! Tom was well acquainted with his own magical signature, and Harry Potter was practically drenched in it. Tom needed to find out more. This would take a Slytherin's cunning.

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"...and that's the long and the short of it," Harry wrote, and shook his hand to remove the cramp he'd developed. Oddly enough, although his wrist was aching, he felt… better. Just telling someone who had no preconceived notions about him or the situation made him feel like a load had been lifted off his shoulders. He honestly felt like he could write for hours and not grow weary of it.

He smiled when he saw the book forming a response. "You've been so brave, Harry," Tom wrote. "You seem extraordinarily talented too, being able to speak Parseltongue so well. Are there any other gifts you possess?"

Harry considered for a moment what to write. Yes, Kaecilius wanted his ability to apparate to remain a secret, as well as the piece of Voldemort's thoughts that gave him the talent. But honestly, who would Tom tell?

"There was this incident last year," he began.

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February 12

"I'm just not sure, Tom," Harry wrote. "Kaecilius wanted to be with me whenever I try to get a memory out of the… thing."

Tom wanted to scream at the boy. He had spent hours over the past few weeks coaxing the boy to try entering his older self's memory piece. He just knew the key to the destruction of the old Voldemort was hidden in there somewhere, and he was determined to discover it. Further, he had a feeling that he could feed on Potter's soul more easily from within his mind. He'd been steadily taking power from Harry each time he wrote, but he was getting impatient. Tom decided to play his trump card.

"Harry," he wrote back. "Didn't you say that Dumbledore himself suggested you try it out? That you should attempt it if you're strong enough? I tell you now, you ARE strong enough. The lives of your friends might count on what you find out!"

Harry's writing was shaky. "You're right," he said. "How do I keep you with me in my mind?"

Tom pushed feelings of trust and safety into the young wizard's mind. "When you perform the spell like your mentor taught you, hold me in your dominant hand. Having me present in the motions should bring me in as well."

Tom felt his diary being waved about, then abruptly his consciousness was pushed down a long dark tunnel. He concentrated on his form as he rushed down the path, and succeeded in giving himself a benign and pleasant appearance as Harry's mental self saw him for the first time. To Harry's senses, he looked like a short and wrinkled old man with a kind smile on his face. Harry's face lit up with happiness at the sight of him.

Tom? Is that you? Harry asked.

That's right, Harry, Tom responded, giving himself a mental voice that matched his false appearance. You've done wonderfully. Now let's see about finding a memory!

As Tom drifted behind Harry through the cavernous space, he was delighted to find that the energy of the boy's soul and life force was all around him, and Tom gleefully took in as much as he could without Harry noticing. If the child was weaker when trying to navigate the labyrinth in Voldemort's thoughts, well, so much the better. Tom could feel himself grow more substantial, more real with each passing second. They reached their destination, and Tom forced himself to stop siphoning the energy so he could focus on his task.

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Harry was nervous about this trip, but seeing the confidence in Tom's face made him feel like he could do anything. Getting a firm hold on Tom's arm, he pushed into the crack.

The emotions were just as oppressive and ugly as his previous visit. They pushed and pulled at him, dredging up the worst feelings and memories inside him. The fear in his classmate's eyes, the anger he felt whenever someone sent a jinx at him, the confused faces of the twins. Finally, the frozen look of horror on Ron's face, still fresh from repeated nightmares, hit him like a sledgehammer, and in that shock to his psyche, he let go of Tom's arm. Now completely adrift, he was battered again and again by the emotions, each one forcing him down and down, as he screamed Tom's name helplessly.

It was completely by chance that Harry saw a memory flit by him, and he clawed out desperately, letting himself be pulled into it.

He was looking at a stone floor, with his head firmly secured in some round headrest. Harry could feel the rest of his body tied down to a long but comfortable platform. For a moment, he thought he might be at a massage parlor (and wasn't that a strange thought, Lord Voldemort himself getting a massage). Then he felt how much his back ached and stung, like a thousand biting ants had taken up residence in his shoulder blades. He only had a moment to wonder at his ability to feel pain in someone else's memory, before a fresh new bite manifested right behind his shoulder. In his mind, he cried out, but the memory of Voldemort didn't even flinch. The pain seemed to persist for hours, but finally it stopped and Harry just listened dully as he heard an old man's voice above him.

"There, all done, mister," the voice said. "You sure I can't use a numbing charm on them? They'll hurt real bad for an awful long time."

Voldemort slowly sat up and hissed out in annoyance, "For the last time, NO! Let me see them."

The old man had wrinkled brown skin, bright white hair, and wore a robe similar to Kaecilius'. He shrugged and reached over to a table. He picked up a mirror and handed it to Voldemort, then pointed his wand at a large mirror on the wall, shooting an orange spell at it. Instantly, the mirror in Voldemort's hand displayed a view of his own back, and Harry felt amazement at the bright red and black designs tattooed all over his shoulders and upper back.

At first, Harry couldn't make any sense out of the images spread across the skin. The designs on his shoulder blades were mirror images of each other, curved lines that were highly stylized. On top of his spinal column, he could see something that looked like a gushing waterfall, black vertical lines that spread out and curled away. But at the base of his neck, there was clearly the head of an eagle, mouth open in a piercing shriek. It was the head that helped his brain put the whole image together.

Voldemort had tattooed a giant bird across his back, but in the center of the design where the main body should be, there was simply a flattened x to serve as a bridge between each portion of the design.

"Very nicely done," he heard himself say. "Now the incantation, if you please. Be careful of your pronunciation. Mayan can be tricky."

The old man raised his eyebrows into his white hair, but nodded. He picked up his wand and a piece of parchment, and placed the tip of the wand over each individual tattoo, muttering words that Harry would have to listen to several times if he hoped to understand them. Only the last two were clear. "Quetzalcoatl" he said as he tapped the eagle head, and he pressed down hard on the flat x, saying, "hal," with a sense of finality. With this last word, Voldemort felt a sense of power that flowed through his body, and he grinned in triumph.

Harry concentrated and felt the symbols burn against his back, but to the boy's amazement, he began floating into the air. At first, he dipped and shuddered, as if he couldn't quite control it, but he quickly focused intensely on what he desired, and his levitation steadied. He loomed over the old man, who to his credit only grimaced in nervousness. "Well, ain't that a thing," the elderly fellow said. "Never seen someone manage that before."

Voldemort cackled. "I should think not. It's a process not seen in millennia."

The old man shrugged. "Good on you, then. And now, my payment."

Voldemort nodded. "Of course. You've earned it fairly."

Quick as a flash, he whipped out his wand and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" and the man slumped to the floor.

Harry was dumped out of the memory and back into the maelstrom of emotions. The reprieve the memory had given him, as short as it was, had given Harry time to think and plan. If he could create lights and repair the damage to his mind using only willpower, then shouldn't he be able to perform magic? As he was pushed and shoved by the vicious emotions, Harry focused his mind on the outside of Voldemort's thoughts, back in the safety of his own mind. With a forceful twist, he apparated out and found himself right where he'd imagined, staring at the crack in Voldemort's remnant that he and Kaecilius had created all those months ago.

He felt a brief moment of worry when he remembered that Tom was still trapped in there, but a flash of movement nearby alerted him to his helper's presence.

Thank goodness! Harry said to his friend, who looked shocked to see Harry. The shock on his face then morphed to anger.

How did you escape? Tom growled. You should have been stuck in there forever!

Harry felt hurt, but remembered the argument he and Kaecilius had after the last visit to Voldemort's remnant. Focus, Tom, he said calmly. This isn't you. I'm your friend, remember?

Tom's face spasmed, but then regained the calm smile Harry was more accustomed to. Thank you, Harry, the old man said. Let's get out of here, yes?

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Tom wished he could destroy the little brat, but was glad his momentary blunder had been covered by his older self's mental defenses. He had felt so angered by Potter's continued survival that he hadn't watched his words as he normally would.

At least he'd accomplished his goals. He'd viewed a rudimentary memory of his Halloween 1981 defeat, and could see just what the old Voldemort had overlooked. The mother had created a protection spell based on love and sacrifice, and his older self had completely fallen for it. There was nothing special about Harry Potter.

Now he felt safe in draining the boy dry, and with the boost he'd gotten from this trip, he could probably accomplish that in the next month. Less, if he could convince the child to bring Tom's consciousness into his mind again. His triumph was practically assured.

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February 14

Harry looked around at the devastation of his dorm room in disbelief. Someone had torn the place apart, focusing on his area specifically. His bedsheets had been ripped apart, his trunk was on its side with its contents strewn about, and even Hedwig's cage had been tossed across the room. Nothing was untouched.

He sighed and began putting everything to rights, with Neville and Hermione, now completely free of cat fur, helping him.

It wasn't for several minutes that he realized what was missing. Tom's book, usually tucked under his pillow, was nowhere to be found.

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May 8

Harry looked around himself in despair. The hospital wing had probably never been so full. The Weasley twins and Ron were in one corner, each in their own bed. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Colin Creevey were nearby. Mrs. Norris and Nearly Headless Nick had their own spot in another corner, as Madam Pomfrey had probably never been forced to deal with animal and spectral patients before. Lastly, the prefect Penelope Clearwater was in a bed next to the frozen form of Hermione Granger, one of his last remaining best friends.

Harry had never felt so helpless or so tired. Both feelings had been dogging him for months, with the boy needing to go up to his dorm nearly every day between classes just to rest his eyes. Staying awake in classes was now a regular chore, with nearly every professor commenting on it, or in Snape's case, taking points away because of it. The only teachers who hadn't noticed were Binns, who hadn't noticed anything for years, and Lockhart, who would only notice a charging rhino if it was also asking for his autograph.

Harry yawned, but then shook his head determinedly to get rid of his fatigue. In the month that he had been trying to figure out this mystery with Tom's assistance, they had only come up with one lead. The Heir of Slytherin must be controlling some kind of beast. If anyone at this school knew about beasts, it would be Hagrid. And as Harry had recalled, Hagrid had been expelled for some unknown reason when he was in third year.

The lack of attacks for the past few months had kept Harry from just going up to his large friend and questioning him point blank. Now, though, he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He went to get Neville. They were going out to Hagrid's hut, regardless of the curfew.

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May 24

"Spiders. Why did it have to be spiders?" Neville moaned as the giant arachnids descended from the treetops above him and Harry.

They'd followed Hagrid's cryptic advice the night of the man's arrest, and now it seemed they were paying the price.

"Incendio!" Harry cried, his weak flame giving burns to the closest acromantula, but not doing much else. "C-come on, Neville! Help m-me out!"

Neville joined in with the flame spell, but even with their combined effort, the spiders were closing in.

Harry nearly gave in right there. He was just so tired, so weary of fighting. But then he got an idea, and grabbed Neville's arm. Neville, run! This way! he said, pointing at a gap between the spiders.

Both boys took off, running as fast as they could. "H-harry!" Neville gasped, "The castle is the other way! We- hunh- we're going the wrong way!"

Trust me, Neville! Harry yelled back, throwing back Tripping Jinxes at their 8-legged pursuers.

Deeper into the forest they ran until Harry knew he would either stop at that moment or pass out. He grabbed Neville and pulled him into a bear hug, focusing on the gates of Hogwarts and spinning both boys around in a tight circle.

With a pop and a squeezing sensation that was worse than any of Harry's previous apparitions, they appeared on the outside of the school gates facing the huge stone boars that welcomed in visitors. Both boys collapsed to the ground and just tried to fill their burning lungs for a few minutes.

When he'd gotten enough oxygen to complete a sentence, Neville asked, "Since when can you apparate, Harry?"

Harry grinned wryly. Since this summer, but don't tell anyone, yeah?

"Of course, Harry. But why did we run away from the school just now?"

Wards, Nev, Harry replied. Hogwarts has anti-apparition wards all over it, and a ways into the forest as well. I knew we had to get far enough away that we'd be outside them. Once we'd gone that distance, we could pop away easily.

Neville cocked his head. "How did you know we were far enough?"

Harry chuckled. I didn't. I just couldn't run any farther, and you looked done in too.

Neville's eyes looked ready to pop from his head. "So if you'd guessed wrong?!"

Then we'd be dead, and it wouldn't matter, Harry said with a bright smile.

They both burst out laughing, well aware that there wasn't anything funny, but just so relieved to be alive that they couldn't help it.

After a few moments, they turned and looked at the extremely tall gates. Harry wondered, Neville, how good are you at climbing?

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May 29

Harry was in his best mood in weeks. Professor Sprout had announced that the mandrakes we're ready for harvesting. Within the next few days, all of the petrification victims would be awoken, and they would hopefully identify the culprit. He and Neville had snuck away from Lockhart as he guided their class down the hallway, and were visiting their frozen friends in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, usually insistent that no one enter her domain without teacher permission, had let them in with a soft smile.

Harry was telling Hermione the good news when he noticed that her hand was tightly clenched around a piece of paper.

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The boys ran at top speed in the direction of the staff lounge to tell a teacher what Hermione had discovered, but as they passed the second floor, they skidded to a stop and stared at the wall in horror. Next to the original message from the Heir, there were new words written in red: "Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever."

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A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger. I'm going to need a bit of time to do the battle justice. This will be nothing like the battle in CoS.

I felt bad about petrifying Ron, but I needed a) Neville to get closer to Harry and b) Harry to interact with Tom freely without being warned of the potential dangers that a book might hold. This accomplished both goals quite neatly.

Finally, don't be thrown off by how large the time skips were in this chapter. In researching on the HP Lexicon, these really were the dates for the attacks in the original book. Sounds strange, I know, but I was trying to stay mostly true to canon in this respect. After Tom got his hooks back into Ginny, it probably took awhile to force her to attack someone again. In this story, she'd especially be resistant to it since she attacked her own siblings!

I hope you enjoyed! Please review! As always, I love reading your thoughts.