AN: wow. quick updates huh? y'all are lucky im in a writing mood. i guess its pent up anxiety from recent events and school and stuff.
as of now, we have over 50 reviews, over 300 follows, and almost 250 faves! thank you all so much!
and to reply to Lassy D: i'm doing my best! i keep in contact with friends and family a lot, don't worry! im just desperate. its been a while since i dated and im getting antsy. maybe when i hit college?
im also ahead in chapters! im up to chapter 12 as i write this, so expect sooner updates!
also, changed the categories for this story to supernatural/sci-fi
also, i decided to change the summary of the story. lemme know what you think?
WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER THERE IS NON-GRAPHIC AND FOR THE MOST PART MENTIONED SEXUAL ASSAULT ON A MINOR. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
A dueling club.
Huh.
"This sounds like an important opportunity, boys!" Hermione, ever excited over the prospect of learning, waved the flyer excitedly in his face.
"It says it's being taught by Lockhart though," he replied.
"And Professor Snape! Professor Snape fought in the last wizarding war, he has to know something!"
"Oh. Well, in that case, why not?"
This was all seven layers of hell put together.
Lockhart, in a beautiful blue cape that went all to wonderfully with his hair and eyes and an equally terrible hat, stood atop a table, loudly pronouncing the start of the Dueling Club.
"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
The man twirled his ridiculous cape a little before announcing, "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," he swept his hand to the side to show the hook-nosed man. "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!"
"Oh, good," someone whispered sarcastically to Booker's left, and he snorted in agreement.
"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."
Booker raised an eyebrow at that. With a facial expression like Snape's you would think Lockhart had killed his pet snake or something.
"One, two, three —"
"Expelliarmus!"
Snape's spelled rippled through the air with a red streak of light, sending Lockhart flying off his stage and against the wall across the room. He slid to the floor painfully, and Booker almost felt a small amount of pity. Almost.
"Well, there you have it!" the fraud managed to say as he stood and returned to 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 sent a look best described as 'oh really' the way of the blond man.
Ignoring him, Lockhart shouted, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me..."
Booker went to go with Neville when the boy was suddenly pulled away by Snape's hand on his shoulder.
"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Longbottom, you can partner Finnigan. Potter -" Booker moved to take Hermione's hand.
"I don't think so," Snape snapped. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger, you can partner with Miss Bulstrode."
Malfoy, doing his best to hide a smirk and obviously failing, sauntered over.
"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"
They faced each other, and barely inclined their heads. Booker didn't trust the kid to not hit him while his head was bowed, and the kid probably felt no respect to him.
Mutual feelings, it would seem.
"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 -"
Malfoy cast at two, but Booker was quicker, and a quick Expelliarmus sent the boy's wand flying. Bewildered, the blond kid watched it fly away and sent a glare Booker's way.
"Dirty play, Potter," the kid spat.
"You cast at two, kid." Booker was tempted to spit at the kid's feet, but it wasn't to that level... yet. "I reacted, hell of a lot better than you."
Picking up his wand, Malfoy sneakily sent a spell Booker's way. "Serpensortia!"
A large black snake erupted from the tip of the boy's wand, and everyone backed away at the sight of the snake.
Immediately, Booker slammed his foot down on the head of the snake, hearing a sickening crunch.
Malfoy looked at him, horrified.
"What did you expect?" he asked, his arms raised in question.
"Potter!" Snape barked from across the room, striding over with controlled rage.
"What? I didn't do anything!"
Snape, unable to come up with an excuse for Booker to be in trouble, took Malfoy by the arm, and they left the Great Hall.
"Well, that, uh..." Lockhart tried to diffuse the tension, to no avail. "Let's all return to our dorms, why don't we? It's getting late."
"That was useless," Hermione complained the second they got out of there. "Bulstrode had me in a headlock the whole time and I'm pretty sure someone was set on fire."
"At least we learned a disarming spell, but it's not much," Neville commented. "And it was my partner that was set on fire. Temporarily, of course."
"Of course. I think this has really confirmed in my mind that Lockhart really has no idea what he's doing. Why on earth would he take this job?"
Booker paused in his walking.
He heard a voice, speaking. No, two voices.
"You alright, Harry?"
"Shhh."
In a room over, he spotted Malfoy and Snape. Malfoy looked particularly distraught, and he felt a pang of guilt. He had been worried about the snake biting someone so he took care of it. Maybe it was the kid's pet snake or something? He'd buy him a new one.
"Harry, this really isn't any of our business," Hermione whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "Let's go."
And they did, but Booker couldn't help but overhear the end of the conversation.
"... anyone touched you inappropriately? Draco?"
Justin Finch-Fletchley was found petrified a day after the Dueling Club's first meeting, and many houses were pointing fingers at one another, but mostly as Slytherin, of course.
Among their year, rumor had it that Draco Malfoy was the Heir, and something told him that would lift the boy's mood.
It didn't, oddly enough. He looked just as distraught as before.
Something about this smelled disturbing.
Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he walked over to the Slytherin table, ignoring the incredulous looks headed his way.
"Malfoy, can we talk?" he asked.
"What do you want, Potter?" the boy asked harshly. His two large 'bodyguards' stood, ready to defend him.
"Just wanted to apologize for yesterday. You seemed a bit upset about the snake and-"
"I don't care about the damn snake, Potter! Go away!"
Frowning, Booker asked, "You okay, kid?"
"Go! Away!"
"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall asked, arriving at the scene.
"Nothing much," Booker replied, deciding to make his leave.
Yeah, something was going on.
"I'm worried," Hermione said, as the trio sat at their regular table in the library. "Dumbledore has done nothing to stop the attacks. We provided him with enough information to determine the beast - it's a basilisk by the way - and he hasn't closed out the school or brought in a specialist or alerted magical authorities or anything!"
With a great sigh, she threw up her arms and groaned as quietly as possible.
"Should we contact the police about this?" Booker asked, before stopping himself. "Wait. How would we contact the police? It's not like there's any phones or anything to just call them."
"Probably by owl," Neville replied. "But I doubt the DMLE will listen to a few second-years."
"The DMLE?"
"Department for Magical Law Enforcement."
"Oh." It hadn't occured to Booker that there was magical police. Now that he thought about it, it made a lot of sense.
"Ugh! Neville's right, they wouldn't listen to a couple of kids, would they?"
"I don't know about that, Hermione," Booker said. "There's no point in not trying, is there?" He'd been a police officer at one point... hadn't he? He tried not to think about it. Sometimes his past became a muddle.
The young girl gave him a pensive look, before pulling out a piece of parchment and began writing a letter.
Dear Madame Bones,
My name is Hermione Granger. I am a muggleborn student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I don't feel safe. Recently, two students have been petrified and a message saying that the Salazar Slytherin's fabled Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Dumbledore has done nothing, as far as we know.
Please, if you can do anything, do it. Attached is a notepad filled with any information on the Chamber of Secrets.
Regards,
Hermione Granger
Two weeks passed. No response, not even while they were on break. Hermione had opted to stay, fearing that her friends would get hurt without her there, even though Booker insisted she go back. She refused, saying that he would end up hurt or worse without her around to protect them.
Understanding the panic she was feeling, and being unable to go anywhere, he agreed to her terms.
The castle atmosphere was tense. No one knew what was causing the petrifications. No one knew who the Heir of Slytherin was. No one in power was doing anything. Worse, Booker realized that what he had thought had been his subconscious murder intent was actually a voice in the walls, and he grew worried.
At least Christmas was nice. Hermione got him a luxury eagle feather quill, and Neville gave him a special brew of tea from his home garden meant to simulate coffee.
Booker himself got Hermione a new bookmark as he knew her old one was wearing out, and got Neville a book on the importance of herbology in other subjects.
The feast in the Great Hall was grand, delicious foods lining the area, and it reminded him to get some candies for his cousin. No matter how rotten that kid was, it wasn't Dudley's fault - that went to the parents. Maybe with some subtle directions, he could send the kid on a different path.
At one point, when on their way to the library to start their holiday homework, Hermione stopped by Myrtle's bathroom.
"Look. Someone set off all the sinks in Myrtle's bathroom again."
"Again?" Booker asked. Weird prank.
"It's probably Myrtle herself," Hermione replied. "She does it when she's upset. Let's go see what's wrong."
Booker knew Hermione saw herself in Moaning Myrtle - a know-it-all muggleborn who didn't think the highest of herself. He just hoped it didn't result in requiring an exorcist, or worse, Hermione ending up the same way Myrtle did.
Entering the bathroom carefully, Hermione called out, "Myrtle? Something wrong?"
They could hear her crying loudly, only stopping to ask, "Who's that? Come to throw something else at me?"
"Why would we throw something at you?" Neville asked, concern coloring his voice.
"Don't ask me. Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."
"Well that's just rude," Booker said. "Alive or not, throwing a book at someone isn't exactly nice."
Myrtle, suddenly noticing the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived, blushed a deep blue.
"Oh, you're very sweet, Mr. Harry Potter," she giggled, her tears forgotten.
"You didn't happen to see where the book went, did you Myrtle? Maybe we can find the owner and give them a firm talking to." He was a little bit disturbed by the ghost, even if he felt sympathetic for her.
She pointed off into one of the puddles, and they quickly picked it up.
It was owned by a T. M. Riddle.
"T. M. Riddle? Who the hell is that?" Booker asked no one in particular, but with a gasp, Myrtle flew at them.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle!" She looked particularly huffed. "I went to school with him! He hated me! That snake, torturing me even in the afterlife!"
Booker quietly thought this didn't count as the afterlife but kept his mouth shut.
"Why is his diary here then? He must be like, sixty by now," Neville asked. "Not to call you old, Myrtle, just saying it's been quite a few decades."
She hmphed in response.
Quickly thumbing through the book, Booker raised a brow. "Strange. He never wrote in it."
"Or maybe it's invisible ink," Hermione said enthusiastically, her fingers itching to grab the book. "Or maybe it's enchanted! Or, or!"
With a sigh, Booker and Neville bid farewell to Myrtle and headed to their normal table in the library, Hermione behind them, excitement waving off her at the idea of a new book.
"Aparecium!" Hermione cast at the book gently, not wanting to damage it in it's already wet state.
Nothing appeared inside.
She pulled out a large red eraser, which she called a revealer, and erased at it.
Still nothing.
"I don't have any other ideas," she complained quietly. Madam Pince had given them the deadeye for bringing in a wet book. Booker could feel high noon approaching already. To see themm casting spells at a book well... that would not end well.
"Maybe we should write in it," Neville suggested. "Just to see what happens."
"I don't know," Hermione replied. "It might ruin it..."
Booker shrugged. "It's worth a shot. No point in not trying."
With a sigh, she pulled out a quick and inkpot and opened to the first page.
She dipped her quill in the ink and wrote.
Hello
The ink sank into the paper, and after a few moments, a reply, of all things, came up.
Hello. Who is this?
"Should we say who we are?"
"No. Just put, uh, Robert."
My name is Robert. Who are you?
My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?
"Okay," Neville said, backing away, "that's not normal."
"Even by magical standards?"
"Even by magical standards."
Someone tried to flush it down a toilet.
Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'll ask, gimme a second."
What do you mean?
I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"This doesn't feel right, guys," Neville said nervously.
"I want to know more, though," Hermione said. "He might know about the Chamber of Secrets! If he went to school with Moaning Myrtle, he must have been around for it to happen!"
Do you mean the Chamber of Secrets?
Yes. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.
It's happening again. There have been three attacks and Professor Dumbledore does nothing. The DMLE doesn't respond. What can you tell us about this monster?
I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.
"This doesn't sound good."
"Hermione-"
Suddenly a light sprung from the book, and Hermione had disappeared.
"... holy shit."
Then, a few moments later, she reappeared, her breath shallow and a look of disturbance on her face.
"The book is lying," she said after a shaky breath.
Neville and Booker agreed heavily that Hermione needed to see Madam Pomfrey immediately after she emerged from the book. She insisted she was alright all the way over there, and after the medi-witch confirmed rather confusedly that the girl was alright, just a bit dehydrated, she huffed angrily.
"I told you!"
"We were just worried!"
"Yeah!"
Booker gave her his best puppy eyes, but they were beat out by Neville's.
"Oh... bugger! I can't stay mad at either of you for too long. And Harry, your puppy dog eyes are terrible."
"Just like me," he joked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and began to tell the boys of what she saw in the diary.
"Riddle... I think Riddle knew who it was, but framed Hagrid, the groundskeeper for it to keep the real culprit safe."
"Hagrid? Who's that?" Booker asked.
"The man who lives in the hut near the forest," Neville replied. "He's rather nice. Invites me in for tea all the time. Makes good rock cakes."
"Rock cakes?"
"Nevermind that, he said the monster is an Acromantula, which it absolutely isn't, because Acromantula's are actually rather peaceful unless attacked, and they can't petrify people! The diary is lying. Tom Riddle, or whatever is in this book, is lying."
With no idea on what to do next, the trio decided to ask Hagrid about his version of the events.
It was a cold day, nearing the end of February, and Booker was bundled up in the scarf Neville had gotten for him the year before.
The boy was tickled pink to see that.
Booker knocked on the door when they got there.
"Hello, uh, Hagrid, yes?"
"Hello Harry, Neville. Don't believe I know your name, miss."
"Hermione Granger, Mr. Hagrid. Pleased to meet you."
"How might I be helpin' ya today, kids?"
"We wanted to ask you some questions," Hermione stated. "About the Chamber of Secrets."
The man's cheery disposition dropped.
Immediately, Hermione launched into an apology. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that! We know you didn't do it, Hagrid, and whatever monster you were caring for couldn't have killed Moaning Myrtle. We just want to know if you know anything."
Expression softening, the oversized man opened the door and beckoned them in.
"Might as well chat about it over tea."
He served them tea in three very large cups and a stack of the supposed rock cakes were set before them.
Neville set into them immediately.
"There really isn't much to say, to be honest with ya," Hagrid admitted. "Someone unleashed a beast, several people were petrified, and Myrtle was killed. I liked that girl. She and I weren't friends, but we agreed not to make fun of each other."
"I'm sorry for you loss, Hagrid, even if you can still go see her," Hermione said.
"Thank you, Hermione. Anyways, some prefect, Tom Riddle, blamed me an' Aragog, my Acromantula for it, and the Ministry, wanted to be seen as doing something, snapped me wand and expelled me!"
Hermione gasped, and Booker felt a pang of sympathy.
"Aragog never hurt nobody," Hagrid continued. "He's my best friend, still alive to this day. He lives in the forest now, got himself a colony. I would tell you to visit him but he's suspicious of anyone that isn't me these days."
"Understandable," Booker replied. "Do you know what happened to Tom Riddle?"
"No. He pretty much disappeared after he graduated. Why?"
Hermione looked like she wanted to answer, but Booker lightly kicked her shin, and she thought better of it.
"We were just wondering. Maybe he could've answered some of our questions."
"Well, alright. Wait. Who escorted you down here?"
They looked at each other grimly. Right. No one was allowed anywhere without a teacher guiding them.
"You little rascals! I'll walk you up the castle, alright?"
Hermione was designated to keep the diary, as she was the least likely to be questioned for having a book.
Naturally, Booker's luck extended to those around him, and two days later the book was missing.
"What happened?" Neville asked, fear starting to inch onto his face.
"It means that a Gryffindor stole it, which means someone else in our house knows about the Chamber of Secrets!"
"To the library to deduce who it might be?"
"To the library to deduce who it might be!"
They were just outside the library when Booker heard the voice.
The one he had thought was his subconscious.
"Kill..."
"Guys-"
"Did you hear a slithering?" Hermione asked and Booker heard it too.
Shit.
"Yeah, I heard it," Neville replied, and Booker saw Hermione slide a mirror out of her pocket.
Right. Indirect eye contact results in petrification, which is curable. Direct eye contact results in death, which is not.
Booker closed his eyes, and waited.
"Guys?" he asked after a few minutes. The voice was still speaking, so he kept his eyes shut. He had heard it all those other times the petrifications had happened, why hadn't he noticed it sooner?
The basilisk was talking... the basilisk was a snake... Booker could talk to snakes...
God, what a fool he was!
"Kill them... tear them..."
"No," he whispered back. "Go home."
"Speaker requests it... I go..."
Not willing to open his eyes, Booker waited, and waited, and waited.
"Mr. Potter!"
McGonagall!
"Is it gone?" he asked. "Is the basilisk gone?"
"What 'basilisk'?" she asked, confused.
"That's the monster in the Chamber of Secrets," he replied angrily. "Indirect eye contact results in petrification, direct eye contact results in death. So far no one has seen it directly, yeah?"
"Wh-what?"
"Just tell me, is it gone?"
"Yes!"
He opened his eyes, and Hermione and Neville were frozen in place.
"... Filch's cat saw it through the large puddle of water that was on the floor that night. Colin Creevey saw it through the camera. Justin Finch-Fletchley saw it through Nearly Headless Nick, Hermione and Neville saw it through the mirror. The rooster's call is fatal, that's why Hagrid's were all killed-"
"I get it, Mr. Potter. I understand."
Booker slammed his fist down on Dumbledore's desk. "Then where's the fuckin' police involvement, huh?! Where's the DMLE?! Where's the evacuation, the protection, anything to show that you give a shit about your students' safety!"
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said off to the side. "Language!"
"No!" he replied vehemently. "This old piece of shit has done nothing to protect the students. What the hell is a teacher gonna do against a forty-foot snake that can kill with it's gaze?!"
At a loss for words, the woman backed down.
Then Professor Flitwick burst into the room with a terrible announcement.
"Ginny Weasley has been taken to the chamber!"
Booker was at a loss for words.
A girl had been taken. A little, eleven-year-old child, taken to rot in the Chamber of Secrets.
"You have yet to see the other side of the coin, DeWitt."
He looked up to see the dreaded Lutece twins.
"Not right now," he sighed. His two only friends were gone and now these annoyances were back.
"Not yet."
"We are where we are needed..."
"... and needed where we are. And right now, you need us."
"Why?!" he asked. "Why are you bothering me?!"
Rosalind pulled out a slip of paper. It read TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.
Booker glared at her, and then his jaw dropped when he watched the letters rearrange themselves.
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
"Holy shit..."
"I believe this will provide you with enough informa-"
Booker was already racing off.
"He's much more energetic than he used to be."
"I'm glad this experiment of ours worked, sister."
"You mean this experiment of yours."
He had to get his invisibility cloak if he wanted to sneak around, and it was in his...
Hold on.
He paused, just outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
There was a voice, asking for help.
Malfoy's voice.
Wand at the ready, Booker burst in.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, the spell shooting out and hitting Lockhart dead in the chest, sending him flying into one of his many portraits.
Malfoy was ruffled, his shirt hanging off his shoulder and his belt unbuckled. His wide eyes were filled with fear - perhaps he hadn't expected the Boy-Who-Lived to be his savior.
"Why you-"
Booker was already running at him, and with a hard punch, knocked the man out against the wall.
He paused to take a breather. All this running was tiring. God, he really needed to work out.
He walked over to Malfoy, and helped the boy buckle his belt and redo his shirt.
"You okay?"
The blond boy was in shock. "He tried to... he was going to..."
Booker wanted nothing more than to give the kid a hug, but he knew that wouldn't go well.
"C'mon. Let's get you to a teacher," he said gently.
"Snape. I want to see Snape."
"Alright."
It didn't take long to find the man, who was patrolling the halls, and Malfoy immediately hugged the man's waist and started sobbing.
The hook-nosed man sent an accusatory look Booker's way, but he shook his head. "It wasn't me. It was Lockhart. He was... sexually assaulting him."
A dark expression cross Snape's face. "I will handle this. You, back to your dorm."
Booker couldn't have left faster.
He had a girl to save.
AN:i do not condone sexual assault, let alone on children. this is for the sake of the story. if i get any complaints they will be ignored. you were WARNED.
i always felt like lockhart had ulterior motives. there was no way in hell he could teach a class, that much was obvious. not to mention he just creeped me out all the time when i read the second book. i understand if some of you are turned off this fic because of this, but remember. I WARNED YOU.
fast. fuckin. updates. i'll try to spread them out but i'm just writing so much to avoid doing all the economics and government and multicultural studies and financial literacy and every other class i have to finish ;_; at least creative writing is fun, and my eyeliner has been nothing but on POINT lately so im all good