"Miss Flynn. To what do I owe this pleasure?" King Ragnok asked, rising from his throne to greet the woman. Unlike the previous times that he had seen her, walking in with the composure of a dignified high-born lady, this time she marched in with all the fury of an enraged bear. There was an odd felt beret of forest green on her head in the place of a witches' hat, a gleaming brass badge pinned upon it. Behind her was a steel trunk, painted in some woodland camouflage that Ragnok had seen once or twice in mundane magazines.
"You know very well why I am here, King Ragnok," she spoke coldly.
"Then speak. What have you brought this time?"
"An instrument of revenge," she said, giving him a smirk that could freeze the blood of a lesser goblin. "You have lost one of your personal bodyguard. I have nearly lost a daughter. I believe that it is time that we exterminate this threat, no matter what the magical government says. Or mine, for that matter – but let us keep that off the records, shall we? By the end of this night, snakeblood will run thick in Hogwarts' halls,"
"Ha! Well put, goblin-friend. Such bloodthirst! Still, it is a basilisk that we speak of. What weapon could you possibly have to destroy such a monstrous creature?"
Without saying another word, she knelt down and unlocked her trunk. Gently, slowly, carefully, she lifted up an odd, flat, bar-shaped device. It seemed to be made entirely of metal, with one side concave much like a roadside gutter. "This," she declared, "A recent development by my team of scientists. I have reported this one used in an experiment – which, while not strictly true at present, I hope will become truth in a few hours' time,"
"And what is that exactly, that you think will cleave through the basilisk's hide?"
"A remotely-triggered anti-tank mine. It will produce a...hm...let us say, blades of molten metal that are projected forcefully by an explosion. Blades that travel close to two miles per second, capable of shredding through nearly one and a half feet of hardened steel plate,"
Murmurs of derisive disbelief echoed through the goblin king's hall. One that was immediately silenced by King Ragnok's raised fist. "Silence! Given this lady's contributions to us over the past two years, it shames me to hear your rudeness!" barked the elder goblin. Turning back to Amanda, he offered her a crooked smile and a nod. "Do continue. How does this weapon function, exactly?"
"Simply attach this mine to a surface. A powerful adhesive is ready to be activated by simply pressing it hard enough against any hard and flat surface. Then, when you are ready to detonate it, press the rune on this-" she held up a small cylinder with a glowing red rune on its end, "-and it will do so instantly. You do not need to see the basilisk directly to kill it,"
"And I assume that...oh, how cunning," Ragnok cackled, realising the woman's plan. "The spying devices that you have inside Hogwarts! My warriors could see where the basilisk travels, lay a trap where it is most likely to walk – and then destroy it with this device of yours!"
"Precisely. Now, I believe that your warriors have a task to perform. Please accept this device with my compliments...and may our common enemy bathe in their own blood after tonight,"
"I gratefully accept this device, and I shall promise to put it to good use immediately," Ragnok replied, a toothy grin mirroring that of the woman in front of him.
Tom Riddle, self-proclaimed dark lord and immortal, smirked as he thought about the task that he was going to do today. Oh, enthralling the youngest Weasley girl was a child's play; he only had to convince her that his diary-horcrux was but a cleverly enchanted artifact.
Of course, the fact that he was actually only a fragment of his real self was another matter – but that would not be a problem once he could acquire a new physical form for himself. One that the girl would grant him, once he had fully drained her soul and essence from it. If she would only write a few more times in that diary, he could finally complete that task.
But no, he had another lesson to teach. One to be given to the mudbloods that populated the school. They were unworthy to learn, yet numerous; and as weak as they were, in numbers they could prove to be a threat to him and his loyal followers. What better way to cull the threat than with one of his enemies, the Weasleys? Eliminating Dumbledore politically was simply a bonus to that. Oh, how the Wizarding folk would react to the news that it was one of his thought-to-be-Light followers was the one unleashing Slytherin's pet upon the other students! The damage would be great indeed!
So he stalked down the empty corridors, possessing the body of the Weasley girl. The halls were mostly empty, owing to the professors' strict curfews, which only ended up making his nocturnal trips that much easier. Upon reaching the bathroom on the second floor, he triumphantly sauntered over to the entrance to Slytherin's chamber.
"Open," hissed Ginny-Riddle. The Chamber of Secrets ground open once more, revealing its shadowy depths. "Stairs,"
There was a strange sensation that he was being watched, but could not place. A quick glance around, a brief Hominem Revelio, and nothing. There was nobody around except the pathetic ghost of his first victim wallowing in one of the toilets. Attributing it to merely his imagination, he ventured down into the depths of the school and re-emerged soon after, the beast in tow.
Before Ginny-Riddle could order the Chamber of Secrets closed, however, he heard a strange beeping noise. Turning around to see what it was, he raised an eyebrow when he spotted a blinking red light high on the wall on the opposite side of the room. Nearest to the doorway.
And then with a thunderous, earth-shattering blast, everything went white. Something white-hot slashed through his diary; something that was sufficiently destructive to tear it to shreds of burning paper in an instant. With a roar of outrage, he felt his control over the girl slip away. No! He was so close! Only a few more nights, and he would have taken her essence completely, and claimed her body for his own use!
By the time Professor McGonagall arrived to the site of the terrible explosion, she found that the second floor girls' bathroom had, for a lack of better words, ceased to exist. Half of the walls of the bathroom had been blasted to pieces, their shards scattered halfway down the corridor outside. Every bathroom stall inside broken to splinters; the toilets, taps and sinks within shattered to bits of broken porcelain. What walls had not been shattered were coated thoroughly with a thick, steaming black paste that reeked of rotten fish. The very same paste oozed all over the floor, mixing with the fountains of water spurting from the broken faucets to form a putrid sludge, running in viscous veins in the deep gouges carved into the floor and draining into a seemingly bottomless hole where the wash-basins used to be.
The four goblin bodyguards that had been accompanying the Flynn children for the past few months were inside the ruined bathroom. Two of them were crouched over what looked like a small body on the ground – likely one of their own – while the other two were pacing about the mangled remains of a gigantic serpent.
The old teacher's heart skipped a beat. The petrifications; all of them were found near reflective surfaces, or near transparent objects. The goblin who died without a single mark. It all made sense now; the perpetrator was a basilisk! Merlin knows only how many more students could have been killed in all those months!
Though that still did not explain what the goblins were doing so far away from their supposed charges. "What is going on here?" demanded Professor McGonagall.
"Ah. It's you," he spoke, flashing her a toothy grin. "We have ended the threat to the school,"
That much, Professor McGonagall thought, was obvious. Though given that the four goblin warriors did not appear to be mages of any sort, she wondered just how exactly did they manage such levels of collateral damage. Somehow, she doubted that a hammer or sword could have demolished the entire bathroom in a single swing. Or torn into a basilisk's steel-hard hide, for that matter.
"More than that. We killed it. It was a basilisk, hiding in the girls' bathroom. And, in addition, we discovered who exactly has been helping it move about. This girl was caught assisting the basilisk move in and out of its hideout. Rotfang! Have you finished fixing her wounds?"
"Aye, mostly. But it don't look like she's walkin' anytime soon, boss. Lost use o' both 'er legs and 'er wand-arm, she did. 'Er wand also didn't make it,"
"You mean a student has been maimed?" Professor McGonagall gasped in horror. She rushed forward to see what exactly the goblins had been working on.
There, lying unconscious on a patch of mostly-clean water stained scarlet by blood, was the youngest Weasley child. Her stomach roiled when she saw her condition. Chunks of flesh were scattered across nearly ten feet behind where she was, evidently torn out of her already spindly limbs. Her arm and her left leg were hanging on limply by mere strips of skin and the tiniest shreds of sinew; her bones broken in more places than the aging Scottish lady could count. Her right leg looked much as though a giant serpent had chewed it up and spit it out. If the weak, ragged breathing of the girl was any indication, she did not have long to live at all.
Just what dark and terrible method did the goblins use to kill the basilisk?
"Oy, Steelclaw. You got the medicine from the boss?"
"Of course I do, Rotfang. You need it for something?"
"The girl. I don't know 'bout you, but I don't think the boss is gonna appreciate having Minister Fat come down on his head when he thinks we killed one of the witches. Deep Ones know we got 'nuff trouble without these wizards stirring up some more. Pass it 'ere,"
Though he grumbled something about wasting precious resources, the goblin named Steelclaw rummaged in his belt pockets for something. A moment later, a bottle of strange blue fluid sailed through the air, caught deftly by the goblin warrior that was tending Ginny. Without so much as asking for permission from Professor McGonagall, the goblin pressed a button on top of the bottle and a fine mist of the liquid sprayed onto the girl's shattered leg.
Right before her eyes, the horrific wounds slowed and stopped their bleeding. Fractured bones hissed and bubbled as they seemed to melt and reform, silenced only when flesh knitted together again without so much as a noise. Yet it seemed to stop short of repairing the skin, which left it looking uncannily like someone had gone and flayed her leg without somehow causing vast amounts of bleeding.
An application on Ginny's other leg and her arm, and her wounds looked much better than before, though no less unnerving. "Ha! Flynn's potion is good," crowed Rotfang, who tossed the mostly-full bottle back to Steelclaw. Very little of it had been used, which only showed just how potent that liquid was.
She had heard from Severus that the Hufflepuff Flynn had incredible insight into the art of potioncraft, but could a second-year student truly brew something so potent? A potion that did not even need to be drunk, but only needed to be sprayed in the tiniest amounts onto the affected areas? One that seemed to combine the effects of Skele-gro, blood-replenishing potion, and regrowth potion all at once? It was difficult to believe, but given the lackluster performance of the Gryffindor Flynn in all things academical (except for Charms), and the fact that the Slytherin Flynn seemed only talented in destructive magics and elemental transfiguration, it was the only possible option she could think of.
After all, if there was another magical Flynn in Hogwarts, she had certainly never heard of them. And Muggles could not possibly have brewed such a potion, thus ruling out their parents.
"Anyway, what to do now? Ain't like the boss gonna be happy to hear that we let the basilisk-handler run free. Even if she is a little 'un. Take 'er to Gringotts to be judged?"
"That will not be acceptable! She's injured, she should be taken to the hospital wing immediately!" cried out Professor McGonagall, aghast.
The four goblin guards looked at each other and shrugged. "Above my pay grade," muttered an ancient, surly-looking one that was behind the basilisk corpse moments ago. "You may take her to be treated for injuries for the moment. But be warned, witch," he added, pointing a long, bony finger at Professor McGonagall, "This girl is guilty of leading a basilisk about, causing the death of one of King Ragnok's personal guard, as well as endangering the lives of the remaining guards and at least three goblin-friends. Any effort to shield her from justice will be met with the harshest penalties, as prescribed in the previous treaty between your Ministry and the Goblin Nation of Gringotts,"
She paled at the thinly-veiled threat. This was not something that she had expected, and certainly not so late at night. She would have to inform Albus of this recent development.
Dumbledore was not happy. The Chamber of Secrets had, for a lack of better words, been blasted open. There was literally nothing covering the hole where it once was, and despite his protests, the goblins had scoured it clean of all artifacts, books and items, claiming 'right of conquest' under the ancient laws of the land. Not that he could dispute it, of course; that was exactly how he ensured that the Potter fortune grew by the Riddle fortune after Voldemort's death (and by extension, his own wealth by being the legal magical guardian of Harry, which granted him legal authority to use that wealth as he saw fit). So as he watched the last of the crates of various books being carted off to a wide-area Portkey bound for the Gringotts vaults, he had to swallow his urge to try and get those items under his control. It would be far more destructive if he caused Gringotts to lock all vaults – or Merlin forbid, cause him to lose control over the Potter fortune.
What was worse, however, was the fact that he would be receiving a rather inconveniently timed visit from two Lords. Lord Malfoy had been rather pleased about receiving information that Albus had been repeatedly failing to ensure students' safety, if his smug official letter was any indication. Trust the man to feign sympathy for Muggleborn students when it suited his goals.
The other, however, came from Lord Greengrass. Though that man was firmly opposed to the Death Eaters during the previous war, he had not supported the Light either. Suffice to say that the power behind their name was such that even the Dark dared not force their hand around him. Rumour has it that the man had weallth greater than half the Houses in Britain combined, and gold in the pockets of everyone that mattered. No doubt hearing that his daughter had been petrified had brought about his ire.
Yet even more misfortune was to come. The basilisk was supposed to be a test of fortitude and wit for the Boy-Who-Lived! The tools were all there; the Hat had the Sword of Gryffindor, which would come in the time of need of any Gryffindor in time of need. He had ensured that the Granger girl had acquired the hints about the basilisk in the library with a subtle Confundus charm, and gotten her to drop the book off with Harry with a nearly undetectable compulsion charm. Yet before the boy could act, the goblins had acted first and destroyed his test! How was he supposed to develop his resilience in the face of adversity now?
And the less said about the damage to the reputation of the Light, the better. The rumour mill of Hogwarts worked overtime over the past three days, aided by the fact that the blasted goblins were very much open with describing what happened in the second floor girls' bathroom. If anything, they seemed so smugly pleased whenever they regaled curious students with their tales, sneaking in menacing grins in his direction whenever he passed by them in the Great Hall.
Now everyone knew that it was Ginevra Weasley that had been responsible for unleashing the basilisk on the school. Never mind that it was likely a Dark compulsion charm that was responsible for doing so and granting her control over the basilisk (he did inspect the bathroom for traces of dark magic, and did find a very strong residue on the floor). Never mind that she had suffered enough by evidently being under its influence for so long that her magical essence had nearly been depleted. As another wave of Howlers descended in front of the despairing youngest Weasley child in the Great Hall, he sighed and dropped his head into his hands.
Why could they not forgive and forget? It was not as though anyone had been permanently harmed. Instead, the Dark were using it as evidence that the Light were not as pure and good as they portrayed themselves to be, and the Neutrals were outraged that someone had willingly led a basilisk around to attack their children!
Thankful that it was not the end-of-year feast yet, he excused himself and applied a silencing charm around himself just before poor Ginevra's Howlers burst out into their usual roars. He gave her a pitying nod as he passed, but unfortunately she would have to endure it for the Greater Good. For now, he needed to be in his office.
Inside the Headmaster's Office, he found Professor Snape already inside. Beside him were both Lords that he had been expecting. Lord Malfoy, as could be expected, looked ever so slightly less enthused by the news of the basilisk's destruction; yet Lord Greengrass' eyes bored into his own with all the ferocity of a Hippogriff about to tear into its prey.
"Ah. Lord Malfoy, Lord Greengrass. Please, have a seat," Albus said, putting on his most disarming smile and conjuring a couple of plush chairs. "Lemon drop?"
"No thank you," Lord Greengrass said curtly. "I assume that you have read my letter, and therefore know the reason why I am here,"
"Why, but of course. It is, after all, addressed to myself," replied Dumbledore, popping one of the lemon drops into his mouth. "Your concerns are quite valid, Lord Greengrass, and you can be sure that I have been handling them with due diligence. Your daughters are quite secure-"
"Quite secure," repeated Lord Greengrass, his frown deepening. "Quite. Secure. Is that what you intended to say, Mister Dumbledore? That my daughters are merely only quite secure while they receive their magical education?"
"I assure you that they were never in any danger of being harmed," he offered placatingly.
"That is NOT good enough!" roared Lord Greengrass. It became evident where the elder Greengrass daughter had gotten her ice-manipulation prowess from, as the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees and a metre-wide circle of black ice formed about the enraged lord's feet. "I expect that my daughters remain completely safe while in school! No danger of being harmed? My heiress had nearly looked a basilisk directly in the eye, Mister Dumbledore!"
The verbal lashing continued for nearly an entire minute. The entire time, Dumbledore swore he could see Lord Malfoy's smile grow wider and wider as time passed.
"-and lastly, I find it disgusting that my eldest daughter had been targeted for her...poor choice in association. With a group of unworthy Muggleborns and a half-blood of a far lesser family. I do not know what should concern me most; that my family name carries so little weight that your students do not know how to exercise caution – yes, that includes your son, Lord Malfoy; you can be certain that I will be burning every proposition of a betrothal from this day forthwith – or that your idea of adequate security is to let a Class XXXXX forbidden creature roam free in the halls; or that my daughters' safety and well-being was only ensured by the loyalty of those very same Muggleborns that I had considered beneath my notice! Perhaps it is time that I reconsidered my priorities,"
"Lord Greengrass, please. I am sure that my son had not meant any lasting harm," Lord Malfoy said, his smile fading slightly.
"A Severing Charm directed at neck height, Lord Malfoy. Had my daughter not been drilled in defensive casting from an early age and thrown up a shield – no matter how shoddily cast it was – you can be certain that your House and mine would be locked in a blood feud. I am well within my rights to demand reparations of you at this stage, and demand blood for blood,"
That had silenced Malfoy. As wealthy and well-connected as the Malfoys were, they were not prepared to engage another major family in what could be a lengthy battle of influence. It lifted Albus' spirits somewhat to see Lucius scowl and bow his head in grudging acquiescence. "I apologise for my son's actions,"
"Accepted. For now," growled Greengrass scathingly. "Though it will be most difficult for your son to do anything untoward with regards to either of my daughters in the following year. Your questionable choices in both matters of staffing and security have left me with great doubts about the state of Hogwarts, Mister Dumbledore. I have arranged for my daughters to be transferred to Beauxbatons. Yes, that also means that House Greengrass is rescinding its financial support for Hogwarts and for the Ministry's educational initiatives,"
Albus' face fell. The funding of House Greengrass represented nearly fifteen percent of his annual budget. "Come now, Charles. Surely that would not be necessary,"
"I did not grant you permission to address me in the familiar, Mister Dumbledore!" snapped Lord Greengrass. "Nor will your pointless bleating help to change my mind. My written orders to remove all future stipends to the Department of Magical Education have been processed by Gringotts already. Now, that concludes my courtesy visit to let you know of the change in circumstances. I shall beg my leave, Mister Dumbledore,"
At that moment, Albus could only groan and cradle his face as Lord Greengrass stormed out of the room, still fuming. The day could not possibly get any worse; the reputation of the Light had been severely damaged; the goblins of Gringotts had gotten their hands on the basilisk remains and the contents of Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets; Harry had not been put through another ordeal that would strengthen his resolve; and now, he had to deal with the loss of a major source of funding. His staff would be less than pleased when they learned that they had to make do with inferior materials and equipment in the coming years. And possibly some cuts to their pay.
A soft cough interrupted his thoughts, however. And as he looked up, he saw the smiling face of Lucius Malfoy, grinning as though Christmas had come early.
"Well, as Lord Greengrass seems to have finished delivering his message," Lucius spoke airily, "Shall we continue?"
A/N:
Well, can't have poor Lucius lose out every time, can we? Once in a while, he's got to get something good happening for him.
Never understimate the wrath of a parent whose child is threatened with mortal danger. All bets are off once that happens; Dumbledore is simply lucky that the crap he pulls on Harry is done with Sirius in Azkaban, and both Harry's parents dead. This time, however? 'I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds' seems apt to use. After all, the development of the most terrible weapons in history comes at times where moral qualms are considered secondary to all else. And what greater need is there, than to protect one's own offspring?
NecroJake: That will be the plan, as well as fast-tracking magitech development. Now that they're aware that something isn't quite right in Hogwarts (what sane headmaster would put students in harm's way every single year, without proper training?!), Amanda and Adams can no longer tiptoe around slowly just gathering information.