VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR ALL READERS!
I WILL NO LONGER BE UPDATING UNTIL A COPYRIGHTER IS STOPPED.
The story is called "Bella Phoenix Alexandra Lily Potter" in the Twilight & HP crossover category, by Imperial Immortal Blindmerman. It is nearly exactly my story, by the name of "Phoenix Potter Part One".
The only difference is he's adding in the Cullens to make it a HP/Twilight crossover!
Here is the url: http: /www. fanfiction. net/ s/6007460/ 1/Bella_Phoenix _Alexandra_Lily_Potter
It is my exact words, though in it is adapted so where i called Phoenix by Alex, he changed it to "Bella".
Please spread the word and report that $$#0%&. I have by now. the more reports they get, the sooner he should be stopped.
He is also had the FUCKING gall to review and ask when I was going to update, to which I replied:
"Um, how about when you delete your fucked up plagiarized copy of mine?"
I pm-ed him too, and he had the GALL to reply and claim he did not copy it. %$^%&$$^%!
Please report him!
I will not stand for my story to be copied, and will not be updating ANY of my stories until his copy is GONE.
please help, dear readers. If you've been a victim of this, you know how it feels. If you haven't, I hope you never do!
Please, please help!
OOOOOKAY! THE STORY WAS DELETED IN LESS THAN HALF AN HOUR! THANKS TO ALL WHO HELPED!
Mostly, thanks to Kajoba who alerted me about this! THANK YOU! THIS IS FOR YOU!
HERE'S A REWARD FOR EVERYONE!
May 29th, cont.
After the destruction of the Basilisk at our and the sword's hands, Harry and I had both crumpled next to each other, leaning heavily against the wall.
We had both been stabbed partially by the dying Basilisk's fangs, and we wretched them out of ourselves. Harry had been stabbed above the elbow in his arm and me in the torso, right below my right collarbone.
I could feel the destructive Basilisk venom penetrating my system, working especially fast since it was so close to my slowing heart. Unbearable pain had bloomed in my body, my vision becoming foggy, but I could still make out the outline of Riddle standing above Harry and me, smirking mockingly.
Fawkes flew over, looking us both in the eyes. I think it was crying, but I couldn't be sure. My vision was too blurred…
"Fawkes," Harry said thickly, hoarsely, with difficulty. "You were fantastic, Fawkes…" I saw the beautiful red and gold swan-sized Phoenix lay its head where the great serpent's fang had pierced him.
"You are both dead, Harry Potter, Isabella Lestrange. Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows. Do you two see what it's doing? It is crying."
Crying?
I felt the now-blurrily outlined bird lay its head where I'd been stabbed with the fang. My vision suddenly cleared. I focused on Fawkes. Thick, pearly tears rolled down its beak onto my wound, causing steam to curl from it…
Was this death? The pain was fading, and it really wasn't so bad…
"I'm going to stay and watch you two perish, Potter, Lestrange. Take your sweet time." He grinned nastily. "I'm in no hurry…
"And so ends the brave Harry Potter and the powerful Isabella Lestrange. Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, defeated at last by the Dark Lord, who they so naïvely challenged. You'll be back with dear Lily Potter soon. She bought you twelve years each, but Lord Voldemort got you in the end." He grinned contemptuously. "Just as he knew he would."
The pain had left me.
By the looks of it, it had left Harry, too.
Phoenix tears…of course!
"Yes, I suppose the fools teaching you never taught you very much. With Dumbledore and McGonagall as the Heads of the school it is to be suspected, I suppose…"
Fury swelled in my stomach. My right hand clenched into a tight fist. Angrily, I leapt up, and punched Riddle in the face. He lost his balance and stumbled. Unfortunately, I heard two cracks. One from his jaw, the other from my hand.
Pain blossomed in my hand, but I ignored it, standing with Harry by my side.
Gritting my teeth in pain, I said, satisfied, "That felt good."
"You insolent little—"
"Cut to the chase, will you?" I asked sharply, impatiently, gritting my teeth.
"Phoenix tears…" he murmured scornfully, glaring at Fawkes, as the Phoenix flew to my shoulder, dropping something into my hands, which had been behind my back, one holding the Basilisk fang that had poisoned me. I knew what it was: the diary. "… healing powers…of course. No matter, I will prefer to kill you both myself."
Harry still had Gryffindor's sword, which he still held pointed at Riddle. I pulled the Basilisk fang and diary from behind my back.
I dropped to my knees on the floor, putting the diary in front of me.
"What are you—"
I stabbed the dairy with the Basilisk fang before he could continue. I had been right when I guessed that his power came from the diary. He screamed, as blood-like ink spurted from the diary in torrents.
Then, he was gone. Ink still dripped from the diary. The Basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hold right through it.
"Bloody hell," I murmured, glancing to Harry. "That is destructive," I said, as I held up the diary and looked at Harry through the hole in the diary.
Harry and I grabbed our wands from where Riddle had dropped them.
Then I heard a feeble moan. I spun and saw Ginny stirring. I ran to her side, looking at her worriedly. Her brown eyes—just like her mother's—opened and traveled from me to Harry to the dead Basilisk to the bloody sword in Harry's hands to the still sizzling diary in my hand.
She gasped and then tears were pouring down her face.
"Oh, Bella, Harry! I wanted to tell you at breakfast, but I—I just couldn't! It was me! I didn't realize until after you and Hermione, Bella! I s-swear I d-didn't mean to! R-Riddle made me! And, h-how d-d-did you k-kill that thing? The l-last thing I r-remember is R-Riddle coming out of the d-diary!"
"Sh, Ginny," I comforted her, hugging her.
"I'm going to be expelled!" she sobbed.
"It's over." I consoled her. "Riddle's finished. Him and the Basilisk. C'mon Ginny, let's go back, okay? It's over. It's nothing but a memory."
Pun not intended.
After she stopped weeping, Harry and I helped her stand. Fawkes still was on my shoulder when we made our way back to where the ceiling had collapsed. Ron had obviously been working. He'd made a sizeable hole.
"GINNY!" He exclaimed, pushing rocks out of the way faster. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? …Why are you two covered in blood, and…where did the bird come from?"
"He's Dumbledore's." Harry said.
I nodded and said, "Ron, get back from the rocks as far as you can—Lockhart too. I don't want anyone hurt."
When he said they were back, I drew my wand and flicked it at the boulders, experimenting with a nonverbal spell. There was a sound like an explosion, and the rocks were blasted away.
I grinned and pocketed my wand. Harry helped Ginny through the gap. I went next, followed by Fawkes and finally Harry.
"Why do you have a sword?" Ron asked Harry. "And why do you have that diary?"
"Later," Harry replied.
By now my hand had swollen and was purple. It hurt like hell.
"What did you do to your hand?"
"Later," I repeated Harry's words. "Where is Lockhart?"
"Back there. Memory Charm backfired. He hasn't a clue who or where he is."
We followed Ron to the smiling professor. "Hello," he greeted good-naturedly.
"So, any clue how we leave?" Ron asked, ignoring the now truly Witless Wonder.
Before they could answer, Fawkes swooped down in front of us, waving his tail.
I smiled. "I do." And I proceeded to tell Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart that Fawkes, as a Phoenix, could carry immensely heavy loads…like people.
"…We've got to hold hands." I said. "Harry, you hold Ron's hand and Fawkes's tail. Ginny, hold Ron's hand and my wrist, carefully. I'm afraid my hand maybe broken. But that was worth it… Lockhart—"
"She means you!" Ron said sharply to Lockhart, who nodded.
"—Grab my hand." I had stuffed the diary into my robe pockets, along with my wand.
They all complied, and a sudden lightness seemed to spread throughout us all. Fawkes took off, flying towards the distant bathroom.
"Amazing!" I heard Lockhart exclaim. "This is just like magic!"
My pleasant-sounding laughter echoed in the pipes. Then we landed in the bathroom, and the sink repositioned itself. Moaning Myrtle was sulking. "You're not dead," she pouted to Harry.
"No need to sound so disappointed," Harry replied, grinning.
Fawkes landed on my shoulder again as we walked to McGonagall's office. With my uninjured hand, I knocked once on the door before entering.
There was a shocked silence as Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, Madam Pomfrey, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took in our appearance.
I knew we couldn't look that good, plus it was altogether a shock. There was me, now un-Petrified and covered in dirt, grim, muck, ink, and blood—mostly blood—, cradling an angry purple swelled hand, and beautiful graceful Fawkes sitting on my shoulder, regal as ever. Then Harry, also covered in some blood, carrying the bloody sword. Then Ron, covered in a lot of dirt and a bit of slime. Then Ginny, coated in slime and tears, still looking pale. And finally Lockhart, who was smiling vaguely, staring off into distance. I always knew he was demented…
Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming at our lot. McGonagall had a hand clutching her chest as she took in deep breaths.
Even poker-faced Snape looked shocked at our sudden entrance and appearance.
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, practically launching herself at her daughter, pulling not only Ginny, but also Harry, Ron, and I into a tight hug.
"You saved her!" she exclaimed. "You saved her! Bella—I thought….How….? What is going on here?"
"I think we all want to know that," McGonagall said weakly.
When Mrs. Weasley released us, Harry set the bloody sword and stained Sorting Hat on the desk, and I did the same with the mangled diary.
Madam Pomfrey's brown eyes zeroed in on my hand. She pulled out her wand and healed my hand for me asking me, "Should I even ask?"
I smiled tiredly, weakly, but genuinely. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey, and probably not. I wouldn't, were I you."
"How did…" McGonagall began, still in shock. "How did you…I thought you were…"
I smiled to my Transfiguration Professor. "I was. Hermione and I had figured out that the monster in the Chamber was a Basilisk. We had gone to the library to check, and we were on our way back when the Basilisk found us. Hermione had used a mirror to look, so she was Petrified, before me. I drew my wand, alarmed, and grabbed the mirror. I tried to defend myself, and half destroyed that corridor accidentally…sorry about that, by the way. In the end, I got Petrified. Not a minute before you all came too," I added frowning.
"I was aware of my surroundings. I heard Harry and Ron find the piece of paper about the Basilisk in Hermione's hand, and I knew they would do something stupid and go into the Chamber. I still had my wand in my hand, and I decided I had to try to escape the spell. I somehow—and don't ask me how—managed to silently cast Finite Incantatem. So, I ran to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and caught up with them…"
"You cast a nonverbal spell?" squeaked Flitwick, surprised and delighted.
"Um…yes?" I said back, my face bright red.
I think everyone blinked in surprise.
I continued telling to explain what'd happen, Harry assisting me.
"…So, Harry stabbed the Basilisk, but as he did, it tried to bite us. Harry managed to dodge, mostly, but I'm so stiff because of the darn Petrification that I could just barely. Anyhow, two of the fangs barely nicked us, but the poison had entered out system." I rubbed the still-sore spot on my torso. "But Fawkes cured us. Riddle didn't realize until it was too late—he was too busy mocking us. Saying how it was useless to try and fight, blah blah blah—you know, a typical villain monologue. We weren't skilled enough. That we hadn't learned enough. Then he said that with you two," I looked to Dumbledore and McGonagall, "as Heads of the school it was expected…"
My eyes narrowed at the memory, teeth grinding together. Stupid Riddle.
"And then…?" Snape prompted impatiently.
"She punched him," Harry said, grinning.
Dead silence.
"What?" McGonagall asked in disbelief after a beat.
"I punched him," I said, barely managing to keep a straight face. "I punched sixteen year old Lord Voldemort right in the face. That's how I broke my hand. It hurt like heck…but it felt good."
"Seriously?" Ron asked from beside me.
"How do you think you'd feel if you punched Voldemort?" I asked, grinning.
Harry and Ron laughed quietly. Ginny gave a watery smile, tears still in her eyes.
Dumbledore was smiling, amused. McGonagall was only looking at me disbelievingly, as if thinking, Is she serious? Flitwick, Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked like they were trying very hard to suppress smiles. Snape was rolling his eyes at me. I could almost hear him thinking: Typical Gryffindor…
So, Harry and I continued our story. We avoided the part about Ginny and Riddle's diary.
"What interests me is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny while my sources say that he is in Albania." Dumbledore said, and relief washed through me.
Mrs. Weasley sputtered.
"It was the diary," Harry said. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…"
Dumbledore explained to the Weasleys that Voldemort was Riddle, and Ginny managed to explain about the diary through her sobs, and how she found it with the books she'd gotten from Diagon Alley.
"Miss Weasley, do not feel guilty. Much more powerful and wise witches and wizards have been tricked by Lord Voldemort. There has been no lasting damage done. The Mandrake Restorative Draught will be administered in a few minutes, and everyone is okay. There will be no punishment, my dear. Some bed rest should do you some good." Dumbledore said.
Mrs. and Mr. Weasley lead their daughter out of the room.
He looked to McGonagall. "Minerva, if you can go tell the kitchen, I think this deserves a feast." He looked to the other Heads of House and Madam Pomfrey. "Filius, Pomona, Severus, if you all will tell your students. Poppy, can you see to the Draught?"
They all nodded, and left.
It was only Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, and I left. Oh, and Lockhart.
"I seem to remember telling you three that if you broke any more rules, I would have no choice but to expel you…" I gulped at the Headmaster's words. "…which goes to show that the best of us eat our words sometimes. You three will all receive Special Awards for Services to the School and—let me see—I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor." My mouth dropped.
Dumbledore looked behind us, at Lockhart. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"
"Er—Professor Dumbledore?" Ron said, "There was an accident in the Chamber. He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired…"
"Ah, well then, would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary?" Dumbledore asked Ron.
Lockhart suddenly spoke up. "I was a professor? Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"
I hid a satisfied smirk. Oh the irony…and karma…
Ron nodded to Dumbledore. "I'll take him."
Lockhart ambled out, followed by Ron who cast Harry and I curious looks before closing the door behind him.
"Sit down you two. I'm sure you are both exhausted." Harry and I complied. I felt unaccountably nervous. I could tell Harry was, too.
"You both must have shown me true loyalty down in the Chamber. Only that could have called Fawkes to you." As he spoke, Fawkes fluttered gracefully from my shoulder to the old Headmaster's.
"And you also met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you both…"
"Professor, Riddle said that both Bella and I are like him…Strange likenesses, he said." Harry spoke up.
"Did he now?" Dumbledore asked. "And what do you think?"
"But we are in Gryffindor!" I exclaimed. "And he was in Slytherin! I don't think he is anything like us! I mean—I…" I trailed off, more confused than ever.
Suddenly, the Sorting Hat's words echoed in my mind. "Old Salazar would have loved you…" I shivered.
"Professor," Harry began. "The Sorting Hat told me that I'd—I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought we were Slytherin's Heirs because we can speak Parseltongue…"
"The Sorting Hat said the same to me," I added quietly. "'Old Salazar would have loved you', it said." Again, I shivered.
"You two can speak Parseltongue because Lord Voldemort—Slytherin's last living descendant—could. Unless I'm mistaken, he transferred some of his powers to you both the night he gave you those scars."
Almost subconsciously, my hand found the scar on my neck that was nearly always half hidden on my neck.
"Not on purpose, I'm sure," Dumbledore added.
"So we should be in Slytherin," Harry said. "But, why did it put us in Gryffindor?"
Dumbledore only peered at us above his glasses.
Slowly, I answered for myself. "Well, I asked it to. It wanted to up me in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but I asked it not to."
"The same for me," Harry said quietly.
"Exactly." Dumbledore said. "That is how you are different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. If you still want proof, look at the sword."
Harry picked it up, and I saw an engraving on the side.
"Godric Gryffindor." I read.
"Only true Gryffindors could have pulled that from the Sorting Hat." He told us. Maybe he was right after all.
"I suggest you two go down to the feast. I'll bet that you both are hungry after an adventure like that." He smiled.
I grinned. "Remind me never to get Petrified again. I felt like I haven't eaten in a month!" Harry and the Headmaster chuckled.
Lame pun intended.
"Now, go on you two. I need to write to Azkaban. We need our gamekeeper back. I also need to draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet …We need another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dear me, we certainly go through them quickly, don't we?"