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Chapter 11:

It was a nightmare; no words could describe the crummy situation that befell them. North, South, East and West, the background and environs of where they stood frozenly still, was filled with the gratingly trepidatious echoes of clicking pincers approaching with every breath she exhaled.

As a multitude of anthropophagus, eight-legged, monstrous creatures edged nearer to them, two hands from both sides of her, shot out like a whip and curled around hers in a firm iron grip, whether it be for protection or support, or perchance the relief that they wouldn't be dying alone on this accursed night when all prudence and circumspection got tossed out the window and they rashly decided to take their naïve, monster-friendly friend's advice and rush head-first into danger.

Nonetheless, these hordes of massive specimens where nothing compared to their leader: enormous, cantankerous, blind, and hungry.

Sharp pincers clicked animatedly, breathless with the anticipation of the scrupulous meal they had been starved of for around fifty years. There would be no mercy, no means of escape, and she clutched the supporting hands of the family she created. This was not how it was supposed to end; foolish lion cubs ambushed in the den of heartless abominations before adolescence.

The execution was ordered by the leader, and they were suffocated, surrounded on all sides with not even a gaping hole to maneuver their way out and survive another day. Her life flashed before her very eyes, knowing that not even a corpse would be left behind, narrating their tale of idiocy in exonerating a friend. Loyal to the very end, until death do they part.

Inhaling the last breath of her life, she expected to smell the intoxicating smell of decay and putrid flesh, instead, the familiar and mesmerizing aroma of vanilla, peppermint, summer and pure masculinity impaled her nose buds; it gave her strength and the will to live and survive.

Letting go of the iron grip from her family, emerald eyes snapped open, narrowed into slits and glowed in rage. They would survive this, those monsters be damned … they would not end up as dinner if she had anything to say about it.

Inhaling the familiar scent once again before it dissipated completely from her vicinity, a victorious gleam passed through her body and her valor returned.

They would survive, even if she had to murder every single one of these cruel, unforgiving, wretched abominations from their midst.

Twenty-four hours earlier:

Thranduil's senses were attacked by a foreboding sensation when he drifted into his unconscious state and appeared in the familiar halls of the castle, ethereally gliding alongside his favorite redheaded Istari and her two comrades.

Although the weather outside the castle walls were cheerful and sunny as flowers bloomed and birds chirped under the scorching sun, inside the walls was a different matter completely – a contradiction. There was a gloomy ambience in the air, thick with despair and despondence. Students piled into straight lines, marched safely to and fro from classes with an adult. Paranoia was the dominant emotion of each grown Istari, sharp eyes sweeping the premises and wands outstretched incase the monster appeared in their midst, and conversation was stilted, no happy and mindless chatter was being traded as the school year nearly came to its end.

The uncouth boy however, was despicable as the King of the Woodland Realm observed his casual nonchalance and arrogant demeanor as he strut down the castle halls with a relaxed smirk settled on his pointed and pale face. To revel in danger and the terror of the student body was atrocious, and Thranduil thought it impossible to have such malice toward a young child … until now.

During Potion class with the abhorrent hook-nosed Professor, the uncouth boy could be heard gloating at the top of his lungs with his snake companions about his Adar's success in riding the school of the Headmaster; he even went as far as to miserably comment on the bushy-haired girl conquering death.

"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now. Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger –"those were the exact foul words, verbatim. The King's fists clenched, turning white with rage as his crystal eyes icily glared at the uncouth boy in disgust; to wish upon a child's death was abominable, and he applauded the Gryffindor loyalty when suddenly the youngest male Weasley and Neville threatened a brawl, if only the greasy Professor didn't bark orders at the exact moment.

Thranduil's ire increased, unable to comprehend such vileness in mere children who had yet passed into adulthood. Never before had he experienced atrocious children, far too used in all the millennia's of witnessing such contemptible words and actions from the adults in the Race of Men.

Suspicions arose, and a few Istaris began apologizing to Electra over believing her to be the Heir of Slytherin; even though the bushy-haired girl was no friend of hers, they considered house loyalty to have interfered, although a few were still set in their ways, unfortunately, and wouldn't budge in their blame.

"I say tonight we follow Hagrid's advice," Electra murmured to her comrades after Herbology class.

"Right, 'follow the spiders'," Neville hesitantly replied.

Thranduil hoped beyond hope that the three young Istaris would abandon their investigation, but he knew that they wouldn't allow their giant friend to rot in prison and wished to exonerate his name, as well as halt the incessant attacks. King Thranduil knew that Electra had other reasons, mainly not wanting the castle to shut down as it were her first home and didn't enjoy thoughts of living with her ruthless kin for a long period of time.

"Aren't there supposed to be werewolves in the forest?" Lavender hissed in fear. Thranduil was oblivious to what a 'werewolves' was supposed to be, but in regards to the terrified visage of the blonde girl, he presumed it to be a dangerous and frightful being.

"These children will be the death of me," Thranduil murmured to himself as he followed them into their last lesson of the day. Wide disbelieving eyes glared at the preening blonde nincompoop as he boasted in loud tones over the giant's arrest, claiming the attacks to have come to its end. The Istaris all argued vehemently with the idiotic moron stating his claim to be incorrect, but he was indignantly rebutting the multitude of remarks.

"What a ponce," Lavender snarled in undertones.

Couldn't have said it better myself, Thranduil sighed inwardly.

Nightfall arrived, and the churn in the King's chest was more pronounced as he followed the three Istaris who had snuck out of the common room under the Invisibility Cloak toward the giant's hut. He prayed for the Valar to halt their suicidal mission and return to the safety of the castle – to no avail.

The dog! They decided to allow the cowardly dog to accompany them as a means of protection. King Thranduil discerned the three Istaris to be astute, however, in this precise moment, he was cursing their imprudence. Such incaution should not be taken lightly, and yet they buoyancy strolled into the hearth of the forest.

Three beams of light shone on the path, tracking the multiple miniscule spiders scuttling forward from the separate wands of the Istaris. With his impeccable hearing, Thranduil distinguished the breaking twigs, rustling leaves and cautious barely audible footsteps before they halted all of a sudden, three pairs of eyes wandering around the milieus warily.

Lavender's shaky voice filled the silent ambience in whispering yet urgent tones, "Hagrid told us last year not to leave the forest path."

"Hagrid's in Azkaban though," Neville refuted, tightening his grip on his wand. Thranduil noted how the two Istaris glanced at the redhead inquisitively, and a grim smile appeared on the King's face; Electra Amycate Potter had leadership qualities and they looked up to her.

Gulping loudly, the redhead grimly walked onwards in determination, "Hagrid told us to follow the spiders. Come on."

Thranduil groaned aloud, fearing the events that had yet to take place. His instincts were screaming at him to forgo this bleak mission, regrettably, he was cursed to silently abide them like a ghostly spectate, unable to lend them aid.

The King knew not how much time idled by as they trudged deeper and deeper into the illicit forest that housed dangerous creatures, when a loud clicking noise attacked his senses. Mouth agape, crystal eyes unblinking, Thranduil found himself to be horror-struck upon witnessing the monster that blockaded the young ones' path. Multiple clicking resonated in the atmosphere, and a shout of horror escaped the composed King's lips as the monstrous creatures lifted the young ones and the cowardly dog around their middle, scampering in a fast pace down the dark and gloomy path.

The Istaris' yells filled the air as they struggled to release themselves from their captors, and Thranduil ran alongside them, only to halt his procedure upon reaching the warranted destination; the horrified King scrutinized the ridge of a vast hollow that had been cleared of trees, strategizing an escape plan. However, when crystal eyes paused on the horde of monsters, he staggered, recoiling backwards in shock.

The Great Spiders that infiltrated the forest of his Kingdom from Dol Guldur. The damnations which morphed the wondrous Realm of Greenwood into the bleak and gloomy Mirkwood. How in Arda did the Great Spiders travel into Earth? Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond and Mithrandir must be notified at once about this anomaly!

Their sting was venomous, and they devoured all flesh from their midst after ensnaring them into their accursed web; the Istaris had no weapon, no sharp blade on their person but their wands and a small repertoire of defensive and combative spells, how are they to escape with their lives wholly intact and unharmed? And what in Arda was the foolish insipid giant thinking when he decided to allow three children, three unarmed and inexperienced children, to face such venomous and monstrous creatures, especially by their lonesome?!

"Aragog! Aragog!"

Of course, the arachnids possess the power of speech, but what had Thranduil confused was Lavender hissing, "Acromantula." Perhaps Earth's Giant Spiders were given a name, different from the species of Mordor and Dol Guldur. But before Thranduil could assess the new information received, from the middle of the misty, domed web, a spider the size of an Oliphant emerged in painstaking slow movements. No arachnoids of Arda extended to such an enormous size, and Thranduil began to fear the Istaris' bleak chance of survival.

What the King of the Woodland Realm found to be utterly absurd was the obvious friendship between the 'Aragog' and the giant. The giant's love for monsters knew no bounds, and his mind was in need of severe repair. Just as Aragog doled out the order to kill them, Electra, the valorous redhead interjected desperately, claiming them to be friends of the giant and ceasing all movement, except for the rapid clicking of the disturbing multitude of pincers.

"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," the arachnid, Aragog spoke up in slowed raspy tones; Lavender decided to announce her presence in support and informed him of the giant's trouble and how he was sent to prison for the mysterious attacks in the castle walls.

King Thranduil was flabbergasted. Unless his mind was deceiving him, which it was not, he detected worriment seep into the murderous arachnid's voice as he fretfully exclaimed; "But that was years ago. Years and years ago. I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the school. They believed that I was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free."

That abomination was kept as a pet? Insipid fool of a giant; last year a DRAGON and that three-headed monstrous dog… now an arachnid …. He feared to discover what next. Oh, Eru.

Angered clicking resonated around the young Istaris once the clumsy boy asked for the true monster, and Aragog began a huge ranter. "I! I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you can see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid's goodness."

Thranduil buried his head into the palm of both hands and groaned, seething in rage as he mulled over the arachnid's tirade. The insipid giant retrieved a mate for a murderous creature; the hordes of flesh-eating, venomous creatures were all the fault of the giant's compassion for lethally vicious monsters. How could the wise Headmaster allow such drastic measure to take place in a school full of CHILDREN, for Eru's sake?

Shockingly, Aragog relayed to the young Istaris that he had never attacked anyone, "It would have been my instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom…" The conundrum however, was when young Electra asked for the species of the actual monster hidden in the Chamber; a loud outbreak of frantic clicking echoed and many shapes shifted in fear. "The thing that lives in the castle is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go when I sensed the beast moving about the school."

But the brave redhead would not submit without a fight and she urged the dastard spider to speak its name.

"We do not speak of it! We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times." Thranduil pondered the creature that had the possibility of instilling such tangent fear in the hearts of such a monstrous creature; yes, Lord Elrond would be curious of these 'Acromantula'.

Thranduil's hand instinctively reached out for his blade before recalling his inability to interfere; crystal eyes widened, and turned to ice as he frigidly witnessed the accursed Aragog order his children to kill them, stating that he would never harm the giant only. The brave, cold King could do nothing but watch in terror as the horde of Giant Spiders surrounded the three fearful Istaris.

He glumly observed Lavender and Neville reach out and grab Electra's hands in support and fear, the three young ones huddling into each other in a protective yet hopeless stance. Thranduil could not allow such a drastic deed to transpire. He flashed over to Electra's side, and stared imploringly at her face, emerald eyes tightly shut in fear.

"Electra! You listen to me! Fight, at arms! Fight. Think of your friends, you three are valorous Gryffindors, do not give up. Fight Electra. Have hope!"

Thranduil sucked in a sharp intake of breath when the redheaded Istari's eyes snapped open just as the horde of Great Spiders were within arm's reach. Emerald green eyes resembled fiery embers as they hardened in determination and she released herself from her friends' hold, whipping her arm out and yelling with confident rage, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

Thranduil watched in awe as five Great Spiders got blasted backwards, their insides eviscerated as pained shrieks filled the air. Electra's action seemed to have a domino effect on her comrades as they too whipped out their wands and three simultaneous yells boomed, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" before turning around, calling for the cowardice dog and fleeing from the hollow.

They ran nonstop, only pausing to recast the impressive, explosive spell, banishing a multitude of the venomous creatures from their trail, the path littered with their disemboweled insides. However, the swarm was too huge, and the more they killed, the more appeared, but King Thranduil had faith in the three impressionably skilled Istaris; they were valorous warriors after all.

Once they located the path they were previously warned not to set astray from, a throng appeared and an array of arrows filled the sky, piercing the Great Spiders and halting them from proceeding to follow the young ones. The centaurs had come to their aid.

Thranduil awoke from the fitful sleep, worried for the three Istaris he had grown fond of and cursing the insipid giant's foolishness.

*** (The Elvenking & the Pure of Heart) ***

A fortnight had gone by since that disastrous night, and many discoveries had come alight.

The three astute Istaris uncovered the victim who died five decades ago to be Moaning Myrtle, the annoyingly weeping ghost that haunted the bathroom they concocted the Polyjuice Potion in. Also, they ascertained the monster hidden in the Chamber of Secrets to be a snake.

Of course, an ominous voice only Electra had the capability of hearing and she had the affinity of speaking with snakes. They spent a week searching through many tomes in the library, hoping to identify the monster but to no avail.

Three days before their examination were to take place the cat lady announced that the potion meant to revive the victims from their petrified state would be ready by nightfall. Cheers filled the Great Hall, and the hope that the victims would be able to inform them what had attacked them was instilled.

Thranduil followed the three Istaris once again into the library as they continued their fruitful search for the monster; they were stubborn after all, and would never allow a mystery to go unsolved. Suddenly, Lavender let out a victorious shriek, and they all huddled around an ancient text, the page yellowing with age, and Electra read aloud.

"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."

The puzzle pieces all fit into place. Thranduil staggered backwards, barely listening to the three Istaris whispering their discovery out in hushed tones and making sense of the attacks. …Spiders flee before it; the arachnoids wouldn't even dare to speak the monster's name. The Basilisk, this King of Serpents kill by eye contact, yet nobody perished because they only witnessed its reflection. …The camera, the puddle of water, the decapitated ghost, the mirror … the giant complained to the Headmaster of a culprit killing the roosters…

"This means," Electra's voice awoke Thranduil from his state of shock, "I can't be the only Parselmouth in the school. The Heir of Slytherin's one too. That's how he's been controlling the basilisk."

And then, as they began throwing assumptions randomly, they arrived to the brilliant conclusion that perhaps the Chamber was located in the bathroom of the moping ghost since her body was located there. Thranduil felt relief consume him when they mutually decided to relay their discoveries to the adult Istaris instead of seeking the Chamber by their lonesome. Unfortunately, they seemed to lead misfortunate lives; the cat lady's voice boomed around the halls, ordering all students to return to their common room, and the three Istaris decided to hide in the small storage space of the staff room.

'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' The female Weasley girl had been taken hostage in the Chamber; the school was shutting down.

Thranduil wanted to rant and rave when the three Istaris renounced informing the professors and instead darted over to the haunted bath chamber. The moping ghost was only too delightful to share her last moment of life, telling them of the giant yellow eyes that appeared on the tap, and once Electra hissed an illegible word, the sink began lowering and spreading, leaving a large pipe exposed, wide enough for any being to slide into.

"I'm going down there," Electra firmly stated; Thranduil wished he could shake the slim girl and awaken her, bringing back her senses. Suicidal! All three of them were. Thranduil massaged his temples and found himself reappearing beside the three Istaris at the bottom, all three gazes locked on a gigantic snake skin of a vivid, poisonous green.

"The Basilisk must have shed its skin," Lavender whimpered, clutching onto Electra and Neville. But before any words could be traded, a loud thump resounded from behind them, and all three of them whipped out their wands at the sight of the disheveled blonde fraud.

"Professor… what are you doing here?" Neville hesitantly asked, standing protectively in front of the two girls. Thranduil's eyes narrowed into slits at the wand raised toward them … the fraud admitted all his past illegal deeds, boasting his deftness in memory charms. He sinisterly admitted to taking the credit to all past brave warriors and informed them of his unforgivable scheme. Thranduil snarled at the blonde fraud's next words; "The adventure ends here children. I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl and that you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. I have to thank you Electra Potter, without your parselmouth ability, this all would have been impossible – say goodbye to your memories!"

But as the fraud yelled 'Obliviate', Lavender – brilliant girl – swiftly grabbed a compact mirror she never went anywhere without, and held it over her head. The jet of light made contact with the mirror and reflected backward onto the fraud, hitting himself with his own spell. Unfortunately, the backlash caused a massive explosion and great chunks of rocks separated the redhead from her friends.

After a long moment of arguing with each other, they regrettably concluded to shifting the rocks as Electra ambled by her lonesome to rescue the girl. Thranduil spewed a mouthful of eloquent curses as he grudgingly followed alongside her and into the ill-fated Chamber of Secrets.

With her heart on her sleeve, Electra dashed forward to the fallen girl checking her pulse and breathing. Thranduil cautiously ambled by, searching the surroundings for the culprit and pausing at the giant statue of a face before a voice spoke up, attracting his attention to the strange boy that stood before the two female Istaris.

"She won't wake." The boy looked barely into adulthood; he was tall, black-haired and was leaning causally by a pillar with utmost nonchalance, and suspicion arose in the bitter King. He looked peculiarly out of place as he noted the blurred edges of the boy.

"Tom – Tom Riddle?" Electra gasped; suspicion increased. The boy was supposed to be old; the diary belonging to him was made five decades ago, meaning the boy should not look so young. Thranduil vigilantly listened to every word that escaped the strange boy's mouth; not a ghost, but a memory preserved in the diary … that seemed odd. And then, the truth came pouring out.

Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber and attacked the children, setting the basilisk onto them and murdered the roosters, writing the messages on the wall. This boy possessed her as she wrote in the diary for long periods of time, losing her mind in the process. Tom Riddle caused a chill on Thranduil's spine; he seemed ominously evil. The laugh that erupted from him was maleficent; finally, he admitted his anxiousness in meeting Electra, and the foreboding sensation increased tenfold.

"Killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore. For many months now, my new target has been you. I have many questions for you, Electra Potter." Ginny informed Tom every quality of the redhead Istari, such as her compassion and inability to allow anyone to come to harm. Her pure heart would urge her to rescue the younger girl in a heartbeat, and Tom relied on that. "How is it that you – a skinny, albeit beautiful girl with no extraordinary talent – managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

Why so curious? The Dark Istari, according to Electra, was after his time; Thranduil's perfectly sculpted brows knitted into confusion before his crystal orbs widened in recognition and malice when the wicked boy raised Ginny's wand and wrote into the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

To what lengths did this handsome adolescent go to transform himself into the vile, disgusting reptilian figure he witnessed last year? Dark sorcery!

Thranduil gaped at the irony; this boy, the evil Dark Istari, had a muggle father, yet he has a dogma against all Muggleborns and Halfbloods, when he himself was one! All this killing, genocide and megalomania, all because his father had never accepted him and abandoned his mother before his birth? How atrocious, how ironic, how … wrong.

Bile threatened to expel when Tom causally admitted to murdering his Adar. King Thranduil was horrified with the discovery. He may be a bitter King, strict and overbearing, stern to his beloved son, Legolas, but he couldn't imagine his henig turning a blade upon him.

"I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Arrogant fool!

"You're not!" Electra suddenly screamed venomously, "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in the world. You're just a wishful has been, one dead-set on homicide and genocide because you suffer from extreme daddy issues. You're sick and you're foul and you're just pathetic. You never dared to take over Hogwarts with Dumbledore around, you fear him and with reason since he saw right through you."

Thranduil was torn betwixt approval for her chivalry and valor, or worried for her life as she riled the boy. Tom's face morphed into an ugly sneer, but before any more words could be exchanged, music filtered the Chamber. A beautiful melodious thrill that seemed familiar and not a moment later, Fawkes the magnificent Phoenix appeared in flames and perched on the young Istari's shoulder after dropping the Sorting Hat by her feet.

The maleficent laughter erupted once more, and he began hissing ineligible words to the facial statue. The mouth opened ominously and Thranduil could barely look upon Electra's frightened visage, his attention consumed by the horrifying monstrous creature that slithered out. The basilisk was seventy feet in length, with yellow bulging eyes and sharp venomous fangs.

The Great Serpent of the North was NOTHING compared to the King of Serpents the young Istari was forced to battle. King Thranduil feared dragon-fire, he who was harmed with the everlasting burn and pain, cursed to roam his life with a glamor and a blind eye. This basilisk could murder with the mere eye contact, one bite and you are sentenced to an immediate death.

Oh Eru, save the girl, give her strength!

Electra blindly ran from the basilisk, unable to administer any spells at the current moment. Thranduil felt useless; what great of a King, a warrior, was he, when all he could do was stand idly by and watch the abhorrently gruesome scene take place. But hope sprung, burning him deeply when the wondrous phoenix blinded the basilisk in aid for the brave Istari, before disappearing once again in flames.

Thranduil nervously watched as the young Istari dove from the Basilisk's tail and grabbed the Sorting Hat, donning it on with her eyes shut in fear. Remarkably, a gleaming silver sword appeared, its handle glittering with sharp rubies the size of eggs. Thranduil gaped unattractively at the sight; what a marvelous swordsmanship, the crafter of this particular sword must be deftly skilled in his profession, and although it was not the appropriate time, Thranduil longed to hold it.

The battle ensued now in fair terms. Electra had the ability to engage the King of Serpents without dying from its gaze now it was blinded, and she held a deft weapon to aid her in its swift death. There was no dragon-fire to harm her, yet the problematic venomous fangs were.

Thranduil observed in prideful awe, as the skinny emaciated Istari – who held no skill whatsoever in wielding a blade – lunged, throwing her whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth. The basilisk screeched, ear-splitting shrieks echoing around the Chamber as it flailed and thrashed around before keeling over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Electra Amycate Potter slayed the King of Serpents at twelve years of age.

But Thranduil wasn't able to applaud the unimaginable feat as his eyes zoned into the large yellowed fang embedded in her arm, and grief clutched his heart.

"NO!" he roared pain clear in his voice. He uselessly rushed over to her side as she staggered weakly onto the ground, eyes blurring with tears of pain.

"You're dead, Electra Potter," and Thranduil wanted to murder the smug Dark Istari with his bare hands. "Dead. I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Electra Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry." Electra slid down onto the ground beside the fallen Weasley, eyes struggling to stay aware, and Thranduil discovered tears running down his face, an action that hadn't happened in over a millennia, ever since the departure of his beloved Lainathiel.

"So ends the famous Electra Potter. Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by her friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord she so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Electra. … She bought you twelve years of borrowed time … but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…"

Thranduil wanted to throttle him. The Dark Istari did no deed; he took no action but lazily lounged by the pillar, allowing a monster to do the killing for him. How he wished he could hold her in her dying moment, Thranduil felt grief threaten to consume him. Confusion shook him as Electra weakly grasped the accursed diary that reeked of dark sorcery and without warning, plunged the fang into the heart of it.

"NO!" the Dark Istari yelled; Thranduil whipped around in astonishment as he emitted a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted from the diary in torrents, streaming over Electra's trembling hands and flooding the floo as the Dark Istari writhed and twisted before vanishing from the Chamber entirely.

Not long afterwards, Electra released the fang, and slumped onto the ground, eyes threatening to close as her body weakened from the venom.

"No! Electra, no, Eru! Eru, by the Valar, save the child, please," Thranduil sobbed, his silky silver hair curtaining his face.

Electra P.O.V:

She was dying, there was no fighting death and Electra allowed herself to succumb to the lethal poison. If only she could see Lavender and Neville one last time; she never had time to tell them how much she loved them and appreciated their friendship and complete loyalty to her. …Her very first friends; her family.

Ginny would be okay, though; Ginny had six brothers and parents that would miss her, Electra had no one, and a thrill went through her spine at the thought of finally joining her parents who died protecting her.

Closing her eyes, a smile flickered on her face as she enveloped death with open arms. However, a frown knitted onto her brows when she heard a marvelous melodious sound weeping uncontrollably, and she opened her eyes a fraction of an inch.

He was beautiful; he resembled a blonde Adonis with his long silvery blonde hair, pale flawless features, sharp prominent cheekbones, hardened jaw and crystal blue eyes that bore right through her. But … why was the angel crying? Was he perhaps the Angel of Death?

"Excuse me?" Electra choked out, but the angel paid her no heed, and Electra understood, this exquisitely handsome man couldn't hear her. She noticed an ear sticking out and frowned in confusion. Why was it pointed? Who was this angel and why was he crying? It couldn't be for her, could it?

Entranced by his divine beauty, Electra felt herself awakening and she began to frugally search for the familiar faces of her parents, she was excited to revel in their affectionate embrace for the very first time.

"It's not your time to go, dear warrior," an ethereal feminine voice whispered; Electra had no chance of questioning the oddity as she felt the burning pain of the venom leave her system, and the crying face of Ginny Weasley loomed over her.

A gasp escaped her lungs and she shot up into a sitting position; she wasn't dead … she was alive, but-, "Fawkes?"

Thranduil P.O.V:

Thank Eru! Thank the Valar!

The marvelous phoenix saved her. How could he have forgotten, 'phoenix tears have healing powers.' Thranduil's red-rimmed eyes speculated the phoenix as he followed the two Istaris out of the Chamber, his thoughts suddenly revolved around the poisonous effect of the Morgul-blade.

Athelas was known to slow down the poisonous effect; basilisk venom was deadly with no cure … could it be … was it possible … did Phoenix tears have the capability of healing Morgul poison? He would definitely discuss this with Lord Elrond, who, as a healer would find great interest in such a predicament.

The events of the tiresome night flashed by in a rush; Dobby the house-elf belonged to the uncouth boy's family, and King Thranduil was proven correct in his assessment, the Adar of the uncouth boy planted the diary in the youngest Weasley's cauldron. Pride filled the bitter King however, when Electra tricked the evil Adar into freeing the poor house-elf.

This year proved to be quite the challenge, and the bitter King of the Woodland Realm hoped for the coming year to pass peacefully by with no problems.

One could only hope …

A/N: OMG! This chapter took me a long time to write. It was a very important chapter and I wanted to narrate it perfectly. Did I succeed? Please tell me I did?

How did you like Thranduil's reactions? There were a lot of references to Arda, huh.

Also, did you like Electra's P.O.V? She sensed Thranduil in both events … let me know what you think. I hope I depicted it well. XD

Next chapter; we will witness a meeting between King Thranduil, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Mithrandir/Gandalf discussing the events of this chapter, AND we start the third year: Prisoner of Azkaban.

R&R.