Chapter Twenty-Five

"I need you to find out how advantageous this endeavour would be."

Daisy heard the sliding of paper against wood, and cursed that all she could see from her position under the rickety bed were the two men's legs where they were sat across from one and other at the table in the centre of the room. She'd had no choice in the matter. Tom was adamant that brewing the Polyjuice Potion was inconvenient; that disguise would be saved for when they had to travel in public, but so far she'd had no reason to leave the room, and besides – it was safer that she was hidden away behind runic wards etched into the flaking metal of the bed and supplement by his own wards rather than out in the open where he could not guarantee her safety. He couldn't possess every person who tried to kill her, and dead bodies were terribly inconvenient to get rid of, especially given that they were trying to remain incognito.

"Pull the other one," Daisy heard the man snort, presumably at whatever he had just read on the paper, "Next you'll be telling me you got your hands on the sword of Godric fucking Gryffindor! I'm not having another one of your…misunderstandings, Lockhart. Life's hard enough with just the one ball, thanks – don't need to be losing the other one."

"What if I gave you my word?"

"That's what I'm bloody well afraid of. Give me something that actually exists."

"Very well. Here." From the movement of his robes, Daisy guessed that Tom had just reached into his pocket and handed something over to the man. "Do all you need to check its authenticity. I leave tomorrow at sunset. I'm sure you'll find it in your best interest to have all the information I require. I promise that you will be rewarded handsomely."

"What? No cries about me offending your honour? No threats? You sick or summat?"

"Why? Do I look it?"

"No, but there is something…different about you." There was a pause as if he was looking over the Lockhart before him, trying to figure out what it could, before he sighed. "Ah, what do I care? I'll look into this, but if you're just wasting my time, don't come round these parts again, you hear? And this time, I mean it."

"You won't regret it," Tom said, standing up. "I swear upon my mother's life."

The other man laughed as he got to his feet. "That don't mean much either – you sold her the first chance you got."

Daisy rolled away from the edge of the bed as the man's electric blue dragonhide boots clipped past, watching as he was shown out of the room, but waited until Tom gave the word before sliding out from her hiding place, pulling a face as she brushed away the dust from the front of her robes. Tom had used a cleaning spell when they'd first arrived, but apparently the rooms in The Shrunken Head were the kind that were always dusty no matter what.

"What was that all about?" she asked. "Who was he?"

"A friend of Lockhart's," Tom answered. "For all the man's faults, he does have a rather interesting repertoire of contacts. Proving rather useful too."

"What's he looking into?"

"I shall be out this evening. What would you like to have me sent up for dinner?"

"Detailed plans of what you're up to would be nice," Daisy pouted, taking the seat that Lockhart's friend had occupied moments before, watching as Tom set about making tea, checking the black tea pot hanging over the fire. "I don't mind. I'm not that hungry anyway."

"Your body's still recovering. Which part of "close to death" did you not understand?"

"The part where you let me live. I suppose there wouldn't be much point in you being stuck in my body. I don't have all these seedy contacts and knowledge of the wizarding world that Lockhart does."

"I wouldn't have taken your body," Tom said, as he poured out the tea into the chipped cups that were hanging by the fireplace. "I would have taken your life to regain my actual body." He returned the teapot, before sitting down again and giving her one of his probing looks. "You don't need to know what I'm up to. Simply trust that it's in our best interest."

"Why are you so adamant about keeping me in the dark?"

"Does the word Legilimens mean anything to you?"

Daisy frowned. "Should it?"

"Tell me, have you ever noticed the twinkle that Albus Dumbledore has in his eyes when he's looking at you?"

"I haven't noticed. I don't really interact with him."

"I suppose you wouldn't given that he's your Headmaster as opposed to Transfiguration teacher," Tom mused. "Well, when I was in school, I found it quite odd, so I did some research. Apparently it's a sign that he's constantly skimming a person's thoughts, or at least attempting to. Legilimency is a mind art that allows a person to seek images, memories and thoughts of another person depending on the level of their skill."

"Dumbledore's a mind reader?" Daisy gasped. Of all the things she'd encountered in the wizarding world, Daisy found the possibility to read another person's mind to be the one she found that she wished could stay in the realm of make-believe.

"If you want to call it that."

"So you're worried he'll find out about you through my mind."

"You could say that," Tom answered. He added more at Daisy's frown, only too aware of the thoughts whizzing about her mind. "Our paths have crossed in the past and I would rather they didn't again before I'm ready. He is, after all, the great defeater of Grindelwald, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, so-called Leader of the Light and an unfortunately all-round powerful wizard."

Daisy was no longer shocked by the derisive tone in which Tom spoke of Dumbledore. It had been that way since the beginning, Tom's handsome face filling with rage whenever he spoke of his former Transfiguration teacher, and since he had begun to look into updating himself on the world since the 1950s, Lockhart's deep, melodic voice had spoken of the Hogwart's Headmaster with nothing but dislike. She hadn't asked Tom about that, coming to the conclusion that Dumbledore had probably started his habits of favouring Gryffindors over Slytherins since the beginning of his teaching career.

"Is there no counter spell?" she asked instead, brows knitted together as she digested this most recent revelation.

"Occlumency is the sister art which allows a person to close their mind to a Legilimens' invasion. It requires a high level of will power and control over one's mind and emotions. There are far more Occlumens than there are Legilimens, and very few of the latter at that."

"I'm guessing that means that you're both. That explains how you're able to get under my skin." And how he could always guess when she'd like nothing more than to throw him off the nearest tall building.

"You're not terribly difficult to read. Even your manipulations become rather obvious after spending enough time with you. And surely even you can pick up on waves of murderous intent? As you currently are, you're an open book," Tom explained, sipping on his tea. "In most cases, that would make you a liability."

"But in this case?"

"I was a capable tutor – I could teach you Occlumency during spare moments. If you feel that you are up to the task, of course."

"Aren't you always saying if it wasn't for my parents, I could be just as brilliant as you?" Daisy grinned over her teacup.

"In your case it could also help you gain control over what you class as accidental magic," Tom continued. "From what I've seen and felt, your magic is fuelled by anger and frustration – emotion. Occlumency would enable you to channel that into something over which you have a semblance of control."

"Are you suggesting some sort of wandless magic? All the books say that it's rare."

"Is rarity synonymous to impossibility? I'm not saying that you will master it, I'm merely suggesting it is a possibility that should be explored given that you have the magical capacity to do so. You should always aim to push yourself to your limits, Daisy."

"So when do we start?"

"When I return this evening," he said. "You'll need a full stomach for this, and it'll give you enough time to practice clearing your mind before I attack it. We do not have the time frame for me to be gentle. I'll use the technique Mrs Cole used to teach us how to swim so we wouldn't drown in the Thames or the nearby canals."

"What?"

"Told us what to do and then pushed us in. You either learned how to swim or you learned to stay well away from the water."

"So I'll either learn to close off my mind or to stay well away from Legilimens?"

"If you fail at this, you'll leave me no choice but to Obliviate you."

"No!" Daisy cried. Blushing profusely – from the warmth tea of course, not from the embarrassing outburst that caused Tom to raise an amused brow - she quickly added, "I mean, please don't. I'd hate to forget everything you've taught me, everything I've learned, the conclusions I've come to. I don't want…" She met his eyes, her own full of conflicted emotion. "I don't want to forget you, Tom."

"You're very sweet when you want to be," he smiled. Daisy hated that it was Lockhart's face she was looking at. She wished she could see Tom's, but she couldn't have everything now, could she? He was already doing so much for her. "You won't forget me. The Sorting Hat once said that the friends made in Slytherin could never be forgot."

"I thought that was Hufflepuff?"

"Those can never be lost. Interestingly, I don't remember the Hat touching upon Gryffindor or Ravenclaw friendships in such a manner. Their kinship seemed to always be orientated towards something – to gaining and keeping knowledge, to banding together for some noble cause. I believe Salazar Slytherin held more affinity to Helga Hufflepuff than he did to Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Will you tell me more about it before you leave?" Daisy asked, eyes bright with anticipation. She loved hearing all of Tom's research, theories and ideological rants, but even more so when they touched about what he had uncovered about the Hogwarts Founders since his search for his inheritance had begun. It wasn't important or relevant but he indulged her anyway.

Tom nodded. "Of course. More tea?"

Daisy sat on a window ledge staring down at the bustling streets bellow her, absent-mindedly making a daisy chain as she watched the bustling street below her. Spending her days cooped up in whatever room they were staying in had given Daisy a certain affinity to people watching. The Paris District was so different from Diagon Alley, so much more alive, with so much more diversity in the characters that you could see walking down its winding paved roads. The inn they were staying in was right at the end of Avenue Morgane, where more than a few of the tall buildings that rose on either side of the narrowing streets needed a lick of paint and serious repairs, and where the covered archways and dark alleys trailing off from it explained perhaps why Tom had chosen this particular spot.

They had arrived two days ago, and he had her busy translating some French books that he'd managed to haggle from a dubious looking hag they'd passed on their journey there. The books in questions resisted translation spells, and Tom felt he had better things to do with his time, especially since she was there. She didn't mind. So far the research he didn't feel he needed to do himself had proved interesting, and Daisy had been meaning to find reason to brush up on her French. However having to constantle refer to the numerous dictionaries required to the task was proving to be boring. She was currently half way through the introduction.

It probably didn't help that she took frequent breaks like the one she was currently on, in hopes that a break to clear her mind and refocus might provide her with the motivation needed. Unfortunately, when she relaxed, she found that her mind kept wandering back to Hogwarts, wondering when Tom's Basilisk would strike. To think she'd almost felt sorry for the creature and now it was going to eat one of her friends. The possibility that it would eat someone she didn't particularly like or know, surprisingly, had yet to make her feel any better. She didn't even relish the thought of it being Malfoy – Daisy had an inkling that Parkinson would once again become completely unbearable without Malfoy to redirect her attention.

Daisy wanted to get a letter to Harry or Millicent and warn them, but she knew that it would be foolish. She had wanted to write to her family more, to let them know that she was alive at least, but Tom had found out her desire to do so during one of their daily Occlumency sessions, and his reaction had been – well, she certainly was more afraid of him now that he wasn't in the Diary anymore. Oh, he was still linked to it; their shared proximity meant that she had picked up on the fact that he carried it around with him everywhere, but not just in his pocket or something. Tom would literally strap the Diary to his person, often over his heart. But now he had a body and he had a wand, even if he was forever complaining about Lockhart's magical capacities, despite his frequent praise of the blond man's redeeming qualities. From what Daisy could gather, whatever Tom was planning was going well thanks to Lockhart's underground connections.

Not that Daisy knew what Tom was planning.

Even though she understood why he was keeping her in the dark, it didn't make it any less irritating, especially since she was having so much trouble figuring it out. It seemed to involve transactions of sorts, business dealings perhaps, but that could be anything. It was more that January was drawing rapidly to a close and he didn't seem inclined to bring her home. She didn't know what sign he was waiting for.

"Those books aren't going to translate themselves."

"Can you not do that?" Daisy hissed, clutching at her heart. She was a lot more jumpy these days, most likely a by-product of not having a wand when everyone else around her did, especially with Tom's constant warnings that the wizarding world on the Continent was far more dangerous than in Britain. "At least don't mask your magical presence as well. I'm getting better at picking up on that."

"And wandless magic as well apparently," Tom said, looking pointedly at the daisies in her hand. "Either you're very angry or you're improving."

"Both." She left the windowsill, laying her daisies aside to come see what held his attention by the table. "Anything for me?"

"I already brought you something – those books that you seem to be neglecting?" He smirked at her pout. "No, this was for me. Some days I feel I have much to learn and so little time. Technically, I have yet to even complete my NEWTS. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "I had some leftover bread for lunch."

"You know I don't like being lied to, Daisy."

Daisy sighed. His ability to pick up on even the whitest of lies was frustrating, even when she focused on mentally imagining what she was lying about. Was she really as obvious as he liked to tell her she was? "I miss my family."

"Are you already so bored with my company?"

"It's not that," Daisy hastened to correct. "If you let me say goodbye, I would follow you in a heartbeat – you know that. It's just that Mum worries and Dudley probably thinks some Pureblood's finally murdered me and thrown me in a ditch. If I was them, I'd want to know that I was okay too."

"Well, common consensus is that you're in a dungeon somewhere," Tom said. "So you've been gone a couple of weeks? You're away at Hogwarts for much longer. I'm sure they'll manage just fine a little longer without you."

"How did you feel when you were in the Diary, not knowing when someone would come along and write in you? They have no idea what happened to me."

"You're beginning to irritate me, Daisy. I said I would get you home, and so I will get you home. You seem to forget with astounding regularity that your parents ripped you from your world. I stand by what I said."

Daisy clenched her jaw, but didn't push the matter further. Tom could grow particularly cruel whenever the topic of her family came up. She understood but it didn't mean that it pissed her off any less. Harry had been treated terribly by her family since forever and he still found a few nice things to say about them – Tom hadn't even met them, not really. Who was he to judge them?

"How long are we here for?" she asked instead.

"I'm waiting on a contact to pass through - can't be sure when exactly they'll arrive." He reached within one of the brown paper bags and pulled out a bar of chocolate. "I imagine you have a sweet tooth that I lack. Eat."

"Thanks."

With delicious Belgian chocolate and a nice cup of tea to hand, Daisy settled back at the small desk in the corner she'd set up camp at whilst Tom took the larger table, wondering why French couldn't be just that little bit easier. She was nearing the end of the introduction when there was a knock on the door. One look on Tom's face told her that it was not expected company. Gathering the books – last time she'd had to stay under the bed for a good three hours with nothing to do and nothing to distract her from her full bladder – she slid under the warded bed. She was thankful that this place was a damn sight cleaner than the establishments in Knockturn Alley and Dover.

From her vantage point, she watched Tom open the door, just a crack.

"Yes?"

"Gildy darling! You have no idea how long it took me to track you down!" Judging from the slight resistance that the door before the woman appeared, she had pushed her way in. Daisy watched her black snakeskin heels clipping against the floor and coming to a halt in the centre of the room. "I would be absolutely livid if it wasn't such a slow news week. There are only so many fashion pieces I can write before I gouge my eyes out. Feels like no one's had an affair in bloody ages. Merlin, I miss it when Fudge was young and unable to keep it in his robes."

Tom closed the door. Daisy wished she could see his expression at this woman who didn't seem to want to allow him to get a word in edgeways. Clearly, she was close to Lockhart.

"We had a deal remember? Any juicy news for me is excellent continuing publicity for you." She clicked her tongue. "I thought we were close enough for you to at least have the decency to Owl before you left? Why are you here anyway? When I asked after you I was merely told that you were called away on an 'urgent mission'. Though knowing you, you could just be out here getting a haircut. It does look different-"

"Do you like what I've done with it?" Tom interrupted. He walked over to where Daisy knew there was a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. She imagined he was a good job pretending to be preening. The woman walked over to where he was stood.

"It makes me want to take you seriously, and that's much more sexy than that loveable hunk look you've been sporting. Ludo's had that look down since he was born. This...this you could work with. Increase your fan base beyond stuffy old house witches and enamoured teens."

"Oh yes? And who would I appeal to with this look?"

"A more sophisticated crowd. Like me for instance."

"Was that the only reason you came?"

"Of course not!" the woman huffed, her tone rapidly losing the sultry tilt it had acquired. She moved to the table, leaning on it. "I want to know what you're up to. You left in the middle of a job – after you went on all summer about how desperately you needed to find something to work with and how Hogwarts was surely going to give you the angle that you needed for your new book. It worries me."

"I'm on an urgent mission," Tom said, repeating the term that she had used. His sigh suggested that she might have given him a questioning look. "Something else peaked my interest."

"Elaborate."

"You know how Harry Potter was raised by Muggles? Their daughter, his cousin – and an irritating little chit I might add - has gone missing. I, naturally, volunteered to track her down."

"Why?" There was a pause. "Gilderoy Jane Lockhart, you didn't. Tell me you didn't." In the face of his silence, she stepped forward and appeared to grasp his robes, shaking him as she demanded answers. If she knew who that really was, Daisy thought, she really wouldn't be doing that. "Tell me that she's alive! Tell me! Tell me that you didn't!" The woman let out a little growl, before she pushed him away, her walk seeming uneasy now. "Damn it Gildy! You promised me!"

Tom laughed. "Oh ye of little faith. I kept my promise. I don't have her." He stepped closer to her, pulling her close to him. "I promise you, I don't have her. I just love seeing your pretty little face scrunch up in annoyance. And I am loving the rhinestones." He let out another little chuckle. Daisy wondered what face the woman had pulled to incite such a reaction. "If you must know, I'm following a trail of informants – trying to find out exactly which dungeon she's holed up in, and then I'll find a way to get her out. Her father is paying handsomely for her safe return, and the public will just eat this up. In no time at all, the Galleons will start rolling in and my account manager will stop threatening to spear me. I'll even share if you like."

"You swear to me that you've not done anything to her."

"I swear it, Rita. How could even you think I'd do that to you? Hmm?"

There was an even longer pause than before and then – and then there were wet sounds, that Daisy had watched enough television to recognise by sound alone. How could Tom be kissing this woman that until a few minutes ago hadn't even known? Was she really that pretty or did she have something he wanted? Daisy's eyes widened as the clothes begun to slip off their respective owners with increasing rapidity, as did the woman's sighs of 'Oh Gildy, oh yes!'. They were coming closer and closer to the bed - Daisy closed her eyes at the bounce of the mattress above her, clasping her hands over her ears as the woman let out such a loud moan that Daisy wasn't sure if she was in pain or what. And she really didn't want to know.

'This isn't happening to me,' Daisy thought over and over as she struggled to block out the sounds of the squeaking bed, the sounds of what they were doing, the woman's increasingly loud noises and Tom spewing some narcissistic nonsense that Daisy reasoned was what Lockhart said when he did that but it didn't make it any better. 'This seriously isn't happening."

"Oh, Gildy! Gildy! GILDY!"

Daisy was sure that if it wasn't for the wards around the bed, she would have Apparated out from under it from a sheer desire to be anywhere else but there.

Several miles away, Harry wasn't having a much better time.

He was growing, literally and figuratively, sick of the detentions he had with Snape; he and Ron were in detention every day after dinner until the end of the month, and then once a week until the end of term. On top of two hours nightly torture, Snape had somehow manage to deduct a grand total of three hundred points since he'd caught them over the Christmas break as they rushed out of the Slytherin Common Room. A quick chat with Malfoy had no doubt confirmed his suspicions as had a visit to the Infirmary where Hermione was currently being treated. Polyjuice potion didn't mix well with cat hair as it was, never mind the fact that Wonka was a cat borne out of multiple magical experiments. According to Madam Pomfrey and the Madams Bullstrode, it was a miracle the only damage was semi-permanent animal transfiguration.

"What I still don't get," Ron said, as he scraped out remnants of potions from the bottom of the cauldron he was working on, "is why Hermione didn't take a hair from Millicent's head, like a normal person would. That hair could have been anyone's. Even Snape's."

"You're just angry she's not down here with us, dealing with NEWT level Potion leftovers," Harry replied, struggling to keep his food down. How the Potion had achieved the furry consistency was beyond him. At least Snape was obligated to give them gloves, even if they had to do it by hand. "That said, she is in charge of all of Lockhart's fanmail until he comes back."

"I'd rather be doing that. Didn't I tell you guys to ask Daisy? It wouldn't have mattered if she was on thin ice, because-" Ron cleared his throat, his ears turning red as he caught himself. "Well, she probably would have figured something out."

"We'd have still got caught."

"But the Bat wouldn't have figured out we were the ones who dipped into his stock."

"No, he'd just have carried on blaming Daisy for something she didn't actually do. Ron, what if-"

"Nope, not this theory again," Ron said, blocking his ears against his shoulders. "I don't want to hear it Harry. Last time we thought Snape was up to no good he was actually on our side. Daisy saved him. He does not have her locked up somewhere in the dungeons right under Dumbledore's nose."

"He must know something though! How-"

"I thought I said no talking," Snape said, as he came back into the classroom. Even with a walking stick, he somehow managed to slink into rooms and catch students unaware. "Or perhaps you enjoy being in detention? Given both of your family history, I really wouldn't be surprised if that was the case."

"Speaking of family," Harry said, ignoring his best friend's pleading look, "have you figured out which one of your Slytherins has my cousin?"

"What did I tell you the last time you asked, Potter?"

"That Lockhart would let us know what he found. But-"

"And what else?"

"That I shouldn't make unsubstantiated claims, but-"

"And?"

"But everybody knows Lockhart is a fraud!" Harry snapped, his frustration getting the best of him. Besides him, Ron mentally kissed away his freedom until the end of the school year. "Not to mention that he hates her. The last thing he's doing right now is looking for her. He's probably on some tropical island by the beach writing his next book! You're her Head of House! You must know what's been going on – you have to have some idea which one of them took her!"

"Do not shout at me, Potter," Snape hissed, dark eyes narrowed at the boy before him. He tried to be…nice to the boy, but it was terribly difficult when he looked so much, and at times acted, like his arrogant, impetuous, father. "I also told you that if you used an insolent tone with me again, I would make sure that Mr Filch received that assistant he's always asking the Headmaster for."

"You can put me in as many detentions as you like, sir. It won't matter as long as she's found. Aren't you in the least bit worried? Don't you care?"

"I could fill an entire roll of parchment with the number of times I told your cousin that she needed to curb her behaviour and proceed with care. She heeded none of my warnings. If indeed she is in trouble and has not run away, she is in part to blame. The school has even gone so far as to spare a member of faculty to dedicate their time to locating her. There is nothing more to be said on the matter. Now get back to work."

Snape, who had returned to his marking without another look in his direction, sounded just like Hermione. Harry could understand his best friend, as she was now stuck with cat features and the person they'd been attempting to protect was now gone making their efforts feel a little futile, but what was Snape's deal? How could he be so cold? Then again, McGonagall didn't seem like she would be much different. She seemed like the kind to listen to him rant before asking 'Are you finished Mr Potter? If so, if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do'. In Harry's recent opinion, Hagrid would have made a better Head of House. At least he cared. Harry had been to see him the weekend before, and the gamekeeper had at least been sympathetic and asked Harry if there was anything he could do besides offer him large mugs of tea and copious amounts of (not always completely edible) cake.

Ron thought Harry was taking it a lot harder than he'd expected. Sure, Daisy was his cousin, but they could go months without speaking and she could be a right pain in the neck if she wanted to be. Harry just didn't know how to begin explaining what the Dursley household would be like for him if he returned and Daisy didn't. Aunt Petunia had proved reasonable in recent times, as had Daisy and Dudley, so much so that he hoped the wishes he'd made to himself every birthday were slowly beginning to come true – he didn't want to go back to the cupboard, to the sporadic meals, to being ignored, to being beaten up, to being called 'boy' or 'freak'. He knew that these reasons were selfish, but why couldn't he be selfish? Why wasn't he allowed to want to keep the little things he had? Harry hadn't realised how much Aunt Petunia's little gestures of kindness like Hedwig, his knitted scarf, his earmuffs, the chocolate bars – and even the letter expressing her sheer disappointment – could mean to him until life threatened to take them away again.

So he pushed on.

"You never asked us why we were in your Common Room in the first place," Harry said, drawing Snape's attention back to him. He hadn't moved an inch, his gloved hand clenched tightly around the cleaning tool. "You never asked if there might be a reason."

"Weasley's twin brothers have been trying to gain access to the Slytherin Common Room since they stepped into this school," Snape said, pointing his quill in Ron's direction, "And you inherit your complete disregard of the rules from your father. I had no reason to ask and still don't. Now sit down, Potter or-"

"Malfoy was livid with Daisy for claiming that one of us was the Heir of Slytherin. He seemed to know something about the real Heir. In fact, he's been throwing the word Mudblood around a lot this year." Harry didn't miss the way Snape stiffened at the slur or allowed him to continue despite the interruption. "I only let Daisy continue to push the rumour that I was the Heir because she was desperate. I told her that we'd get to the bottom of it so she could have a normal year, so that she didn't have to go to the extent of getting herself kicked out of class. So that's why we were there. We were getting answers for Daisy."

"Is that it? Were you expecting me to suddenly gush with emotion and see that as a valid reason to break school rules?" Snape sneered. "Let us get a few things straight Potter, after which you will either sit down or report to your Head of House why it is exactly that you refuse to listen to simple instructions. Firstly, Dursley could have been on her deathbed and it still would not have excused you helping yourself to my stock. The Headmaster may tolerate your penchant for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, but I do not, and will never do so. The next time I won't hesitate to bring legal charges against you to ensure that not even the famed Gryffindor preference will be able to save you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Secondly, kindly disabuse yourself of this notion that you appear to have of your cousin: she is not a victim. On numerous occasions, she was the instigator of whatever trouble she came across, or she fanned the flames by refusing to keep her head down as I frequently suggested."

"I know she's not a victim, but that doesn't mean she wasn't bullied. Neville told me-"

"And lastly," Snape stressed, raising his voice over Harry's complaints, "I suggest you learn to keep your emotions in check. The next time you speak to me as you have been doing, you will come to regret it. Difficult circumstances do not justify rudeness and disrespect. Am I making myself clear?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer when something else caught his attention.

Master no more…let me kill…let me rip…come to me human child…hunger be gone…

"Harry!"' Ron hissed, nudging his friend when he remained quiet in the face of an expectant and surprisingly clement Snape. Harry's outburst had incurred them no further loss of points, and Ron would really have like to have it stay that way. The Gryffindors were already going to flay them alive when they realised why it was exactly that they were suddenly trailing so far behind the other Houses in terms of House Points.

"The voice - I heard it again," Harry said, absentmindedly following the fading sounds of the hiss. He frowned. "The last time I heard it, Mrs. Norris and Colin were Petrified – and this time, it said come to me human child - and something about its master."

"What are you babbling about Mr Potter?" Snape snapped. "There was no voice. Sit down!"

"No! I can hear it!" Harry's eyes widened as realisation hit him. "It's a snake! Slytherin's emblem is a snake – I can speak to snakes – that's why only I can hear it! Sir, there is a snake in the school and it's going to kill someone!"

Before Snape could say anything else, Harry was dashing out of the door, trusting his instincts to lead him in the right direction.

…hungry…so long…Master is gone…

"It keeps saying something about its Master being gone," Harry told Snape, who despite having caught up with him, hadn't said anything. Harry assumed it meant that the difficult teacher was for once in his life giving him the benefit of the doubt. "And that it's hungry – but where is it?"

…time to feast…time to rip, tear…kill…

Harry was pulled to a sudden halt by Snape, and Ron was winded by the outstretched walking stick that stopped him from taking another step forward. Snape had his eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracing the path they had just taken.

"The pipes! It's using the bloody pipes!" He pointed his wand at his throat, and the next words were amplified throughout the entire school. "This is an emergency alert. All students and staff are to be aware that the corridors and bathrooms are extremely high risk areas. Stay in a classroom, your House dormitories or the Great Hall – whichever is closest – until further notice. This is not a drill. I repeat, corridors and bathrooms are high risk. This is not a drill."

"Let's hope the snake doesn't speak English," Ron mumbled.

Snape resisted the urge to smack the redhead round the back of the head, turning to Harry instead. "Potter, do you think you'll still be able to sense the snake?"

"Maybe," Harry said, concentrating hard to get the same feeling he did whenever he heard the snake. "It's this way, I think. I can't be sure, but it feels right."

They ran through the corridors, taking staircases as fast as they could, doubling back whenever whatever was leading Harry pulled him back. Snape had the double work of casting protective charms on each classroom that he caught a student in – any student unlucky enough to be in the corridors was blasted into the nearest classroom without remorse – whilst walking as fast as he could with his bad leg. Which Ron, who was running alongside the Potions Master, had to say was surprisingly fast.

Snape was busy cursing the stupidity of Hogwarts students when Harry came to a sudden halt.

"What is it, Potter?"

"It's right beneath us," Harry whispered, his eyes wide as he stood rigid.

"What is it saying, Potter?" Snape asked. He frowned at the hissed response. "In English, Potter."

"Hunger gone…human child gone…sleep for now…Master gone...Master no more…"

"Someone's dead?" Ron squeaked, the colour gained from jogging after Harry draining quickly from his face.

Snape spared a glare for the redhead and his inopportune comments before turning back to Harry, his voice bearing a gentle edge that had never been directed at the boy stood before him, seemingly deep in thought, "Where did it come from Potter?"

Harry didn't respond, but set off at a slow run down the corridor, speeding down the stairs and-

"Don't look, Potter," Snape soothed, pulling the second year into his robes, warning Weasley not to dare turn the corner. "You did all you could. You did all you could."

It would be years before he stopped being haunted by the sight of the blood splattered walls.

Snape pointed his wand to his throat once more. "All students are to remain where they are. The corridors and bathrooms remain high risk areas. Alcoves and secret passages are just as dangerous. Do not panic and remain where you are. You will be collected by a member of staff. All staff, please find me on the third floor, East Wing, near the girl's bathroom."

"How will we know who it was?" Harry asked as Snape led him round the corner to rejoin a worried Weasley.

"We'll take all the students to the Great Hall and do a roll call. From that, we'll be able to figure it out." Snape reached out and gave Harry's shoulder a light touch before quickly withdrawing his hand, both understanding that it was the only gesture of comfort he could give, and the only one required. "You did everything you could, Potter. This was most certainly not your fault. Do not blame yourself for this."

Snape knew exactly who was to blame.

"What's that?"

"An update from Hogwarts," Tom replied, Lockhart's face taking on a boyish look as he grinned at the piece of parchment in his hand. "Manasa has made her move. Which means it's time for us to return to Britain."

"Finally," Daisy smiled, stretching out on the bed, disturbing the rolls of parchment littered at her feet. It felt like she'd been waiting for this moment since forever, given that she'd had no idea until moments ago what it was that they were waiting for. It had been enough time for her to slowly come to terms that someone was going to die, and like Tom said, the road to greatness was paved with many things, amongst them death and sacrifice. She could only hope it was a road worth taking. "So, when do we leave?"

"Soon. First there's something that needs to be done. Come here." Daisy looked at him warily, but got up, the wooden floor cold on her bare feet. He needed to reapply warming charms. She stopped in front of him. "Do you trust me?"

"Tom, what-"

"Do you trust me?" Daisy nodded, unable to bring herself to say the words, because they rarely signalled anything good. She shivered as he brushed a hand down the side of her cheek, Lockhart's blue eyes seeming darker than ever. "Good. Because I'm afraid this might hurt a little."

She could nothing when he waved his wand and chains encircled her wrists, and attached themselves to the ceiling so she that her arms were pulled harshly above her, forcing her to stay on the balls of her feet to keep the sudden weight of her body off of them. Another wave closed the shutters, plunging them into darkness save the few candles floating about the room. She felt the hum of the magic as an extra layer of wards went up around the room they occupied.

"Tom – what are you doing?" Daisy asked, twisting to try and see what he was doing, to see if his face might have some sort of answers. The movement hurt her wrists, but the panic building up in her chest was greater. "Tom!"

"Dumbledore is a Legilimens, and I suspect Snape to be one also," Tom explained calmly. "Although you're beginning to get a good grasp on Occlumency, we don't have the time necessary for you to hold your own or even be able to create a fake memory. And I need them to believe that you've really been tortured."

"Wait- what? Why? No! Don't do this! Tom! Please!" She struggled fruitlessly against the chains which did nothing more than cut at her skin whilst she could hear him moving about the room. "I changed my mind! Obliviate me! I don't want to be – Tom –" She took a deep breath and stopped moving, trying to think about this rationally. "You can replace my memories with false memories instead, right? Can't you do that instead?"

"False memories look and feel like false memories. You won't know the pain of torture. And besides-" She gasped at the sound of her robes tearing down her back, the chill of the room hitting her bared skin. "- I'm so out of practise."

Daisy braced herself for the worst, but was met with silence, and a hand tracing over her lower back. The gentle touch sent shivers down her spine, not knowing what he was thinking as his fingers traced her skin.

"Tom?"

"Who did this to you?" His voice was a deadly whisper. "Who?"

His reaction brought memories of Dudley's a year ago after he'd burst into her room as she changed into her new Christmas jumper. Once she'd gotten over the fear that he might care more about tattling than her never speaking to him again, she'd been quite glad that he'd found out because it had brought them closer together. Tom finding out was different. It made her afraid.

"Tom, please-"

She winced as his inquisitive touches turned hard, his grip on her side growing painful as he shook her with each repeat of his demand. "Who did this to you, Daisy? Tell me!"

"You're a Slytherin," Daisy said slowly, gritting her teeth against the pain he was causing. "Surely you know how very little they appreciate a Snitch?"

"Why are you protecting them? You know that what I can do to you is much worse than what they will. I can feel your fear radiating off of you. And besides, that rule only applies to outsiders. There are no secrets amongst Slytherins, are there? Someone always knows something." He let go of her and moved to stand in front of her, pulling her face to look at him when she tried to look away. "Once I'm through with them, they won't be able to hurt you. I know, I know – you wanted to take care of them yourself. But as your friend, am I not allow to exact revenge on your behalf?" He stroked her head affectionately. "You want them dead for what they did to you, don't you? You want them to feel the same pain, but a hundred times over? I can make that happen."

"You don't need me to tell you. You said it yourself, my Occlumency barriers aren't nowhere near strong enough."

"Not the ones you control, no," Tom acquiesced, "But then there are those pesky natural ones. I suppose your mind had to shove that particular memory deep enough to allow you to even come back to school. You're such a bold little thing."

"If I give you the names, will you reconsider the torture?"

"No, but that does give me an idea," he said, his voice suddenly brighter. "We'll see how much pain you can take before you give me their names. And if you cheat, I'll be very upset."

"Tom, Tom please don't do this," Daisy tried one last time, as she felt a familiar burn on her skin, increasing with intensity every passing moment. It spread a scalding warmth throughout her entire body, whereas scar tissue would eventually feel like someone was pressing a hot rod against her skin. Malfoy knew the spell, though his was nowhere near as unbearable. "Please, Tom! I'm begging you! Please!"

"You'll come to thank me one day. Your parents have kept you sheltered for far too long, spoilt you, kept you from any sort of real suffering. As you are, you are a shallow, entitled, pampered little princess. You don't know what real pain is, what the deepest desperation feels like, the kind that makes you wish you had never been born. But you will know it, and it will make you stronger."

"I jumped out of a window for you."

He laughed. "You did. And I'll be forever grateful." Daisy shuddered as she felt him nuzzling into her neck, his breath tickling her ear. "I'm going to have so much fun."