Serpent's Lair

Less than an hour later, Harry and Hermione found themselves in the Headmaster's office, six pairs of eyes - five humans and a bird - looking intently at the two scared children.

"Since you insisted on speaking to me in private rather than following your housemates to your dormitories, I'm presuming that you know more about what has befallen Mr Thomas. Is this correct?" Dumbledore asked, his hands folded together, and his eyes devoid of any kind of twinkle, spark or other distraction.

Harry thought that Dumbledore's idea of 'Privacy' was a little different from everyone else's, considering the presence of the four Heads of House, and exchanged a brief glance with Hermione. Neither quite felt up to... It.

The Phoenix trilled melodically for a moment, its unblinking eyes continuing to focus on the pair of them. Harry let out a breath of relief - he'd no idea where that came from, but he wasn't going to complain, either - and with another look at the expectant - or in Snape's case, scowling - looks of his teachers, started to talk.

"It was a snake. Or... A snake was involved, at least. We... We heard it talking about wanting to... To kill. We..."

"We followed its voice," Hermione continued when Harry couldn't. "To the boys' lavatory on the ground floor." She actually managed to blush at that, unlikely though it was that any of the adults would scold her for entering the boys' lavatory. "And there..."

She didn't have to continue. They'd found Dean Thomas, staring into the mirror, the tap water still flowing on his hands... Hands that had turned into grey marble.

And written on the mirror in blood-red letters was a warning... No, a threat.

The heir had returned.

Dumbledore kept his hands folded together. McGonagall's lips had thinned to the point where they'd practically disappeared. Snape was still scowling, and Flitwick appeared to be deep in thought, occasionally exchanging a glance with Professor Sprout.

"A snake would make sense," Dumbledore finally said. "I'm sure you're aware of Salazar's gift."

Harry and Hermione nodded quietly, both of them contemplating, with some trepidation, how the Gryffindors would react, come the next morning.

"But I don't know of any snake that petrifies people..." Hermione said quietly when everyone else remained silent. "Medusas went extinct with the third resurrection of Herpo the Foul, and Cockatrices aren't snakes, they're just bred with their assistance..."

Flitwick and Dumbledore perked up at that, and after exchanging a brief glance with each other, Flitwick addressed his two students. "Can't you think of another creature, whose creation strongly resembles that of a Cockatrice, which is in fact a snake?"

Harry blinked. A moment later, so did Hermione and, for that matter, everyone else in the room.

Tom snarled. So did Fluffy, its saliva dripping from its sizable collection of large, pointy fangs to the ground, where a little patch of monkshood was growing, illuminated by the pale moonlight.

They were called hellhounds for a reason. Skin at least as resistant as a giant's, sufficiently so to shrug off a killing curse, never mind lesser, disabling spells. Which was a problem.

He could set the coop on fire, he supposed, but that would make his presence a little too obvious... Wild beasts may kill roosters, but they don't usually set them on fire.

He spent a moment in thought, ignoring the beast before him as it was snarling and snapping at the little girl that was just out of the Cerberus' reach. His Basilisk was old and powerful. Just because a rooster's crowing could kill the arm- to man-sized Basilisks that'd been bred in medieval times didn't mean Slytherin's creation would be similarly vulnerable. And besides, he'd already caught the first of the unworthy this afternoon. It'd probably be a while before he'd be able to possess the girl again.

It was best to wait.

"So... Um... Just so you know, we..." Ron didn't quite find the right words, but Seamus - whose hairline was singed for some reason - was so kind as to help out. "We don't believe you did it."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and glanced in the direction of the seventh year Gryffindor prefect who kept throwing them suspicious glances and a hand always in his robe's pocket, where his wand was.

"Well, better than none, I guess..."

Ron looked apologetic. "He's a bit of an arse-"

"Language!" Hermione chided.

"Well, he is!" Ron cried. "But anyway, after last year... We know you didn't do it. At least not consciously." Ron eyed Harry suspiciously when he said that.

Harry raised his other eyebrow. "Explain."

"Well, you're a Parselmouth-"

"So am I," Hermione said.

Ron waved her off. "If what Harry's saying is true, your pronunciation is terrible, you don't count."

Hermione bristled, but Harry, who suspected that she wasn't doing this solely because of Ron, quickly intervened. "Right. But what do you mean?"

"Well... Obviously, you wouldn't want to hurt Muggle-borns, what with killing You-Know-Who and your mum and all. But..." Ron was still looking at Harry suspiciously. "Maybe you're being possessed?"

Harry blinked. "Possessed?"

Hermione sighed. "Possession is really difficult. There's less than a dozen confirmed cases worldwide, covering the past five thousand years. And almost half of them involve Herpo the Foul-"

"Precisely!" Ron exclaimed. "Another Parselmouth! Just like You-Know-Who! What if, upon dying, he did some... Snake-magic-" Hermione grimaced at that. "-and, I don't know, put his essence inside Harry? And sometimes he takes over!"

"I'd think Harry would've noticed by now, Ron," Hermione said.

"That's what they all say, until one day they wake up, and are no longer in control of their bodies. Like in that film-" Seamus said.

"'They all?'" Hermione asked. "The last confirmed possession occurred in 1439, and that was in Mayapan, when Ah Xiu Xupan's court sorcerer-"

Ron and Seamus tuned the girl out, and focussed their attention on Harry instead. "So... No signs of possession?"

"No."

"No nightmares? Headaches? Memory losses?"

"No. And by the way, what happened to your hair, Seamus?"

"Ron's brothers gave him a Black Pepper Imp to try out."

Harry winced. Ron looked apologetic. "Well, just in case you do show symptoms of possession, you know where to find us, Harry."

"Alright," Harry said, already being dragged in the general direction of the library by Hermione, who was visibly put out by the two Gryffindors ignoring her lecture about the history of magical Yucatán during the postclassic period.

An hour later, Harry had determined two things. The first was that the restricted section of the library was awesome. The second was that it helped to have someone familiar with it serving as a guide, lest the wails and vile recitations of a tome on Sumerian curses and blood rituals written by Persian wizards during the fifth century B.C. would drive everyone barmy and out of the library until a Professor put an end to the problem.

Harry wasn't sure why the tome was so concerned with protecting its secrets when no-one at Hogwarts could actually read Sumerian or Elamite, but he figured that books could get weird at old age just like people sometimes did. Dumbledore being a prime example.

While Harry was musing about these things, Hermione was looking through a book called Serpentine Seduction: A Sorcerer's Source for Slithering Secrets, only to sigh with disappointment when she realised that it was mostly about snakes as potions ingredients. She proceeded to the next book, entitled The Noble Art of Basilisk Breeding by Macarius Gaunt.

Harry looked a little more closely. "Huh."

"Hmm?"

Harry pointed at the date written on the first page. "Published in 1314, almost thirty years after Basilisk breeding had been outlawed in Europe - and we were actually late to do so, the Arabs and Eastern Romans had done so a century earlier."

Hermione blinked. Harry shrugged. "The Ravenclaw study sessions are a lot more interesting than Binns."

Hermione conceded the point, and once more focussed on the book. "Let's see... Anatomy, chapter five. By de Liuzzi... Oh, the chapter introduction is interesting. He says he's a Muggle but was asked by Macarius Gaunt to help him dissect a Basilisk."

"Focus, Hermione."

Hermione flushed. "Oh, right. Eyes... "Even in death, looking into the Basilisk's eye is sure to send any creature who dares to do so across the River Styx. However, I've found that letting a cat look into a mirror alongside a Basilisk will not simply kill, but instead petrify it. My friend and author of this tome assures me that there are ways to reverse this condition, though I must confess ignorance of the finer points of the magical arts-"

"That's it, then." Harry said.

Hermione nodded. "Definitely a Basilisk."

"Now we just have to find it."

"And by 'We', you do of course mean our Professors and the Aurors."

"Well, I reckon they'll need a Parselmouth..."

Hermione cringed. The worst part was that Harry had a point.

"It is confirmed, then?" Dumbledore asked the pair - Justin and Susan were absent as Professor Sprout had ignored their protests with a firm 'It's too dangerous for you. It's too dangerous for Miss Granger and Mr Potter, too, but they're unfortunately indispensable for this.' -, while on his shoulder, Fawkes was watching.

"Yes," Hermione said with a nod. "Basilisks merely petrify when one looks at a reflection of their eyes, rather than directly at them."

"Then, I believe we shall go on the hunt. It really is far too dangerous to bring students in on this, but I'm afraid that your unique talents may be necessary to complete our mission..." Dumbledore paused as he rose from his chair and put on the Sorting Hat in place of his usual one. "Do you consent to join us in this, Miss Granger, Mr Potter?"

Both of the children nodded, though neither was without fear.

"Then, we shall go. There have been two recorded attacks by Basilisks in this school's history, both have occurred in lavatories. We shall visit each of them and see whether we can find a way to access the Basilisk's hideout."

Fawkes trilled his agreement, and perched on Dumbledore's shoulder as they left the Headmaster's office.

One could've thought it was summer - the school seemed almost entirely deserted, as the students had been ordered into their common rooms and dormitories. Only Dumbledore, the four Heads of House, Aurors Green and Noble and of course, Harry and Hermione were traversing the castle's ever-changing corridors. Lockhart was, curiously enough, nowhere to be seen, despite his impressive career suggesting that this was just his kind of thing.

According to Hermione, this was because it was Lockhart's foremost duty to protect the students. Harry's opinion differed significantly from this, but he didn't feel like the situation was entirely appropriate for bickering, and declined to comment.

The boys' lavatory hadn't provided them with any new information, and Dumbledore led the slightly dispirited party towards the second locale - the one where a girl had been killed in 1943.

It was somewhat unfortunate that the girl in question didn't consider death a reason to stop sticking around, and it was even more unfortunate that she had a considerably better grasp on interacting with the world around her than most ghosts, but in the end, the soaked robes were well worth what they found.

Noble and Green couldn't help but flinch when they heard Harry hissing at the sinks, but they had to concede that it worked like a charm. For that matter, it quite literally was a charm. An unlocking charm, to be specific.

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully down the hole that'd been opened, and with a wave of his wand, conjured nine mirrors and a rooster.

"Fawkes shall fly ahead," he said. "I'm afraid that blindfolds, while protecting us from the Basilisk's gaze, would leave us vulnerable in every other way. The mirrors shall at least prevent death, should we be ambushed."

Everyone nodded, some curtly, some visibly scared, and some with grim determination. Dumbledore glanced at Snape. "Severus, if you would...?"

Snape nodded, and pointed his wand at the rooster Dumbledore had conjured. "Imperio!"

Hermione and the two Aurors visibly flinched.

Fawkes left Dumbledore's shoulder and dived through the hole. The rest of them followed.

"So this is Slytherin's chamber..." There was a hint of awe in Flitwick's voice as they entered the cavernous hall, the green glimmer that permeated the place making him look rather more Goblin-ish than usual. Rows of enormous pillars with snakes chiselled all over them surrounded the chamber, and at the far side, a statue was faintly visible.

"Salazar Slytherin," Dumbledore said as they walked towards it, Fawkes' melodic trills informing them that it was safe to do so.

"But no Basilisk," Snape pointed out.

"That is true... Miss Granger, Mr Potter?"

Harry and Hermione both gulped, and looked at each other. Hermione yelped, and pointed at one of the stone pillars, where one of the chiselled snakes was staring at them through emerald eyes and hissing a warning to... Someone, or something, only to flee upwards the column when they all stared at it.

"I must admit, I prefer my greenhouses to this," Professor Sprout said.

Harry shook his head, and looked around. The pillar-snakes weren't congregating around them, not exactly... But he could hear their hissed warnings just fine, see their gemstone eyes staring at him, see them slither up and down their columns and traversing the distant ceiling to switch between the pillars, always keeping an eye on the intruders.

"Err... Hello?" he finally hissed.

"A ssssnake..."

"A sssspeaker!"

"But he ssssmellsss wrong..."

"He ssspeakss!"

"The heir?"

"Maybe..."

One of the stone snakes suddenly left its pillar and slithered over the floor towards the group, two yellow topaz eyes focussing on Harry. A second one followed it, ruby-red eyes looking the boy up and down.

"Ah... Hello..." Hermione said, only to be greeted by a veritable torrent of derision.

"Liessss!" it hissed from the ceiling and the pillars and increasingly from the floor as well.

"Not hisss blood!"

"Not hisss sssoul!"

"Imposssster!"

Hermione flinched, and so did almost everyone else at the eerie sight and the increasingly disconcerting hissing echoing through the chamber. Only Dumbledore seemed to remain calm.

"But the boy..."

"He doesn't sssmell right!"

"But not quite wrong, either..."

"Like he hassss been polluted..."

"Impure!"

"Call forth the guardian!"

"Enemiessss... Enemiessss of the heir!"

"Imposstersss!"

With a great rumbling, the statue of Salazar Slytherin opened its mouth, and they could hear something big slithering inside it... Coming closer.

"Fawkes!" Dumbledore shouted, and the bird soared forward. "Everyone else, avert your eyes until you hear him sing! Severus-"

Snape didn't need any prompting. The rooster crowed. The Basilisk roared in pain and lunged forward, intent on destroying that which hurt it, only to come face to face with Fawkes blocking its path towards Snape and the rooster.

For what seemed like hours and, in reality, was no more than a minute, they only heard the rumbling of the great serpent's movement and the Phoenix's battle cries, heard stone pillars collapsing and the entire chamber shaking as two legendary creatures did battle.

Then, suddenly, they felt their spirits lift, felt like nothing could stop them now. The Phoenix' song entered their hearts, and somehow, they knew it was now safe to look.

Two empty eye sockets greeted them, oozing blood. Yet, the battle wasn't over, the great serpent far from helpless. Before anyone had managed to even raise a wand, the Basilisk lunged, and one of its fangs managed to pierce Fawkes even as the bird tried to evade the Basilisk's renewed attack.

A great burst of fire followed, and they saw the Basilisk's trashing head scattering the Phoenix's ashes throughout the chamber.

"Oh Merlin..." Hermione breathed while the Basilisk, still painfully aware of the rooster's crowing, once again turned towards Snape.

"Make it sssstop!" it roared more than it hissed, intuitively following the fleeing Potions Master's path, its scales absorbing the Aurors' killing curses as if they were tickling jinxes, and its sheer momentum overpowering the shield Dumbledore had cast to protect Snape.

"It hurtssssss!"

McGonagall transfigured the debris of several pillars into obstacles, thankfully ignorant of the many stone snakes' derisive comments on how pointless it was to try and resist the guardian, and managed to at least slow the Basilisk down enough to preserve Snape's life for another minute or so. Flitwick and Sprout continued to assault the great serpent with a never ending barrage of spells, Flitwick in particular managing to cast curses at an astonishing rate, but even the former duelling champion's spells did little more than singe the Basilisk's scales.

And throughout the chamber, Harry and Hermione listened to the echoes of the stone snakes slithering all around them.

"Kill them!"

"Sssssoon, we ssshall feast!"

"Foolssssssss... Our chamber ssshall be your tomb."

And then there was Dumbledore, and a sword, and with a movement so fast it utterly defied the Headmaster's age and appearance, the battle was over.

Silence reigned, and the stone snakes retreated to their remaining pillars, not a single hiss escaping their forms, only the hateful stares of their unblinking, jewelled eyes betraying their feelings, all the while a small, wrinkly chick a little to the left of the fallen Basilisk's body sang of victory and courage.

Lucius Malfoy rubbed his forehead, the wine forgotten.

He'd intended to discredit the Weasleys and build up a respectable mudblood body count while he was at it. Instead the thrice-damned Boy-Who-Lived, who'd already cost him his master, had found the Chamber of Secrets and Dumbledore had slain a Basilisk. The Daily Prophet was basically worshipping Harry Potter, and the Minister sitting before him was practically bouncing on his very expensive and very old armchair.

"It's great, isn't it?" Fudge asked. "The boy truly is everything we hoped for! I had my doubts, back when Dumbledore whisked him away and Bagnold just let it happen, but he truly is a great man after all."

"Undoubtedly. The greatest wizard of our time, after all," Narcissa replied in Lucius' stead, sensing that her husband was having trouble formulating a politically acceptable reply to the Minister's babbling. "More wine, Minister?"

Fudge practically beamed at her. "Oh, yes please." Then he frowned. "Though, don't you have any French ones...?"

Narcissa shook her head. "We haven't imported from France for a long time." She hesitated, contemplating whether to explain that the Malfoys preferred German wines because the magical governments of Central Europe actually paid attention to matters of blood purity - something that couldn't be said for France. Beauxbatons even absorbed the Muggle-born students from Central Europe (Leaving them to their own devices would've made the Statute of Secrecy unsustainable in no time at all, and killing them was frowned upon by the ICW). There was just no way the Malfoys would stoop so low as to fill the pockets of French blood traitors.

In the end, she decided that this was a little detail Fudge didn't need to know about, and called Dobby instead. While the Minister's staff appointments implied a certain degree of sympathy for their cause, Narcissa suspected that this had more to do with Fudge's tendency to judge people's character by the amount of gold they had available, and possibly the occasional personal favour.

Which, given the present Senior Undersecretary, led to an acute need for stomach-calming potions. Narcissa excused herself and left the room.

"Ah... Lovely," Fudge exclaimed, watching the elf doing its duty, and completely missing the faux pas he'd just committed. "So as I was saying, Harry Potter really is astounding. I'll have to make sure to get some good pictures of us shaking hands, of course... Oh, and Dumbledore suggested that we should import some mature mandrakes from the Mapuche Confederation for the student who got petrified. Expensive, of course, but-"

"If I may interject, Minister, but I don't think this is a good idea. Hogwarts' budget is stretched as it is, and Mandrakes are a restricted plant - import costs are immense."

Fudge looked a little worried at that. "Well, yes, but-"

Lucius interrupted him smoothly. "I'm of course proud to know that my donations provide the Ministry and by extension, Hogwarts with the financial clout they need to function, but I'd have to reconsider my financial commitments if the money ended up being used frivolously. Hogwarts does, in fact, grow its own Mandrakes, and thus there is no reason to import."

"But the student will be-"

"Behind, I'm aware. But I'm confident that the unfortunate victim of the Basilisk's gaze will be able to catch up over the summer."

Lucius rose from his own seat, and offered the Minister his hand. "As wonderful as the news are, I'm afraid I've business to attend to, but I'm confident we'll see each other at the Ministry in... Say, two days' time?"

"Of course, of course. It's been a pleasure as always, Lucius."

Lucius watched the Minister disappear through the floo, and shook his head.

Tom scowled, his wand pointing and poking at the invisible web of charms and curses Dumbledore had left behind. It was subtle enough that even seventh year students would've trouble even noticing it, yet powerful enough to entrap or at least slow down even a powerful wizard.

He followed the invisible spider web's lines and knots and twists and turns, looking for a way in. He just had to confirm it, had to see for himself what the girl had written to him... Though, in a way, the mere presence of the web confirmed the claims his host had made.

Tom felt hatred bubbling inside him. Anger, and a desperate desire for revenge...

One of the invisible strands of magic snapped. Tom's eyes widened.

Less than a minute later, Dumbledore and Fawkes - still young, but already capable of flight - appeared next to Moaning Myrtle's hideout in a burst of flame.

Tom was already long gone, his disillusioned form well on its way to Gryffindor Tower.

A/N: Yes, Dean Thomas is a half-blood. But nobody knows that, now do they?

As the Mapuche Confederation implies, I see little reason why the magical polities - distinct from Muggle ones since whenever one of them signed up to the Statute of Secrecy, or in some cases even earlier - should be identical in name or area to the Muggle ones. As a consequence, in this AU, they aren't.