Neville sighed deeply as he crossed the threshold into the Owlery. He had barely lent a thought to Hedwig while he had been racing about, busy with thoughts of fighting, and of hunting down Harry's attacker. And to his knowledge, nobody else had thought to check in on Harry's devoted familiar. Hedwig was an intelligent bird, even by owl standards, therefore Neville thought it highly unlikely that the Snowy had not realised that something had happened to her master.

Around him, hundreds of owls ruffled their feathers. It was early morning, and most of them were tucking in to sleep for the day. Frowning, Neville searched their ranks for Hedwig's distinctive, pure white plumage. She apparently wasn't on the first floor. Five minutes later, Neville had reached the top level and was starting to get frustrated in spite of himself. Hedwig was absolutely nowhere to be found.

Putting his hands on his hips and throwing his head back in exasperation, Neville was startled by a shock of white against one of the support beams. There perched Harry's owl, her head tucked under her wings.

"Hedwig!" Neville breathed.

The bird did not move to acknowledge him, but a great shudder passed through her. Now that he was here, Neville had no idea what he had planned on saying.

"Hedwig, I'm so sorry…" Neville tried. "We…"

With a flash of feathers, Hedwig dived down at him, a fury of talons and wings.

"Aargh!" Neville cried, shielding his face with his arms. "Hedwig, please! I'm trying to hunt down whoever did this to him!"

With one final, angry cry Hedwig flew to the other side of the room. There she perched on the windowsill, staring balefully at him.

Neville's robes had taken much of the injury for him, but he could feel the torn skin on his face and hands, and the blood starting to trickle from his cuts. Putting the back of his hand gingerly to a particularly irritating cut by his lip, he grimaced at the pain and hurriedly withdrew.

"Hedwig," said Neville, sighing softly. "Harry is not dead. He will recover. You know that better than most."

Hedwig barked at him, but he couldn't be sure what she was trying to say.

"Were you anywhere nearby when he was attacked?" said Neville. "Can you help me find who or what did this to him and bring vengeance upon them?"

Hedwig barked again, angry but to Neville's mind — approving.

"You saw what happened to him?" said Neville hopefully.

Hedwig shook her head, shrieking morosely.

"Dammit," Neville cursed under his breath. If Hedwig had confirmed the book to be behind it, he would have had his mark. Now he would have to wait on Hermione to confirm or deny his suspicions. "Hedwig… Would you like to visit Harry?"

The bird stared into his eyes for a long moment, weighing him with her gaze. Just as Neville was about to open his mouth, Hedwig bobbed her head, barking quietly.

Neville offered his arm, and after another few seconds, she fluttered over to perch close to his wrist.

They walked to the hospital wing in silence through the falling snow. It irritated Neville's cuts something silly, but he ignored the pain, gritting his teeth. It was nothing to what Harry had been put through, and they had suffered far worse injuries for each other.

When Neville knocked on the infirmary door, Madam Pomfrey once more was there in seconds, alarm written all over her soft features. It immediately faded on seeing Neville.

"You want to see him again?" she asked, not unkindly.

Neville nodded. "I'll keep coming back until he wakes up."

"That is… admirable of you, Mr. Longbottom," said Madam Pomfrey. "Must you bring the owl?"

"She's his familiar," said Neville.

"I recognise her," the healer nodded. "Fine. But I won't have this facility turned into a coop, you understand? There are standards I must keep."

"She won't make a mess," Neville promised.

"And your face?" said Madam Pomfrey, drawing her wand.

"Oh, it's nothing," Neville said dismissively, not wanting to suggest anything to Hedwig.

"Synarma lougis," Madam Pomfrey incanted. "Now it's nothing."

Neville jumped as all the cuts sealed over, leaving nothing but a slight tenderness to confirm that they had ever been there in the first place.

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said Neville, slightly surprised.

Madam Pomfrey waved off his gratitude with a small smile, shutting the door behind him and turning to attend to Harry.

"He's hurt bad, Hedwig," Neville whispered. "We mustn't touch him."

Hedwig barked shakily, and he stroked the back of her neck as best he could.

"It'll be alright," said Neville.

Madam Pomfrey caught his eye and nodded.

Walking forward through the curtain, Neville was once more near-overwhelmed by the state of Harry. Neville wasn't so unbalanced as not to recognise the progress that was being made, though. No longer were there any bones lying utterly disconnected from the body. Tendons and ligaments at the very least had regrown to hold everything in place, and Madam Pomfrey had been able to remove the clothes he had been wearing and replace them with a kind of magical gown that appeared to be completely insubstantial, protecting his dignity but incapable of hindering the healing process.

Hedwig had not been prepared thus. Her talons digging into Neville's arm, she barked in panic and protest at the condition of her master. Gritting his teeth, Neville allowed her to vent. She moved to fly to Harry's side, but Neville put a warning finger on her back. Turning to look imploringly back at him, Hedwig made a sound almost like squawking, and Neville felt his heart seize.

"He will recover, Hedwig," Neville said. "He just… we can't touch him."

Hedwig turned back to her incapacitated friend. If owls could cry, there would have been tears streaming through her feathers, for Hedwig was making sounds so full of pain it felt as though knives were working through his chest.

"He's going to be alright," he said, sniffing. "It'll be alright."

When they left the hospital wing, Hedwig had quieted, but she was still inconsolable. Nothing Neville said or did could bring her head back out from under her wing.

"Neville Longbottom."

Neville looked up, startled, to find Luna Lovegood of all people walking towards him.

"Hey, Luna," he said. "How are you doing?"

"He is not looking well, is he?" she said, a hint of sadness seeping into her normally airy tone.

Neville sighed. "He's healing quickly, at least. I'm hopeful."

"That is good," said Luna. Neville had the strange feeling she was speaking more of his own mental state than Harry's recovery. "Come with me, Neville Longbottom."

Shaking his head at her bemusing behaviour, Neville followed her up onto the fifth floor and into a secret passage.

"You are hunting down the attacker," Luna said. It was not a question.

"I'll make them pay," Neville said firmly. "And if they're the same person responsible for opening the Chamber, they won't be doing that ever again. I swear it."

"Good," said Luna. "But remember how dangerous is the road you walk. You cannot. Trust. Anyone."

"What?" Neville frowned.

"Remember my words, Neville Longbottom," Luna said. They were seeming more ominous to Neville with every second that passed.

"Do you know something?" Neville said urgently.

Luna shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Be swift and strong. And do not trust anyone. Good luck."

And then she was gone.

Neville gaped after her. What was her game? Was she taunting him?

With a deep sigh, Neville left the passage on a sixth floor exit, heading out onto an external walkway atop the castle wall.

"This is just one terrible mess," Neville said miserably. "We're children!"

Hedwig barked softly from his arm.

Blinking snow out of his eyes, Neville brushed the hair out of his face. "Be strong for him, Hedwig. We all have to be strong for Harry."

Neville did not feel better, per se, as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room. Hedwig had flown back off to the owlery, still gripped by grief, but Neville felt more fulfilled in his duty to his friend.

"Silence sibilance," Neville said.

The Fat Lady admitted him without ceremony, offering him a consoling look. He could hear her talking sombrely to her friend, whose name Neville hadn't bothered to keep track of. More curious to him was Hermione's presence in the common room, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace with a book. There was nobody else around to be seen.

"Hermione," he said in greeting.

"Hi," she said, putting down the book. It was a text on the defensive use of charms, apparently specialising in their use in wards. As such it was essentially idle reading material for the girl. "I was wondering where you could be."

"You talked to Ginny then?" Neville said, his wand thrumming under his forearm.

Hermione sighed. "Yes. It's just a diary, Neville. There's nothing special about it."

"Oh," Neville frowned.

"There must be something," said Hermione. "Whatever did that to Harry, you'll find them."

"Yeah…" said Neville, heading up to the boys' dormitory. "Thanks, Hermione."

Do not trust anyone.

Neville found that he didn't trust Hermione's words one little bit. And as he walked up the stairs, he cursed Luna's name. For Hermione was the one person Neville needed to trust the most.

Nothing about it had smelled right. The Hermione he knew would never have dismissed the book based purely on it being a diary. Not to mention the casual way she talked about Harry. No, something had gone very wrong. And it only served to confirm what Neville already knew. But he had a problem now. The book had somehow manipulated Hermione into trying to persuade Neville that it was a mere diary, which meant it had a hold over her. And if that were the case, Neville sneaking around and avoiding her would alert it very quickly to the fact that he no longer trusted her. Which meant that he would have to do double duty. In spite of Luna's words, he knew that now, more than ever, he could not do this alone.

As he collapsed through the door of the dormitory, he was gladdened to see Ron awake.

"Hey Neville," Ron said, nodding to him. "How'd it go?"

"As well as I expected," said Neville. "Madam Pomfrey healed me though."

"That bad, huh?" Ron winced.

"She'll cope," Neville sighed. "But we might have bigger problems."

"Hit me," Ron said. He could from Ron's grimace that the boy was serious.

"Looks like the book is the real threat," Neville said. "And it has a hold over Ginny…"

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"And possibly Hermione too," Neville added, feeling the raw weight of guilt settle on his shoulders. If he hadn't asked Hermione to snoop around…

Ron's eyes widened. "No…"

"I know," said Neville.

Ron shook his head. "No, we can't do this without Hermione! Harry maybe. Ginny at a bloody stretch. Hermione?!"

"Look we just don't have a choice, alright?" Neville said. "But whatever power this thing has it can mess with both of their heads and turn Harry into a smoking husk, so we cannot afford for it to find out that we're on its case."

Ron stared at him, mouth hanging agape. With a final shake of his head, Ron buried his face in his hands.

"This cannot be happening," Ron said.

"Ron," said Neville. "Are you with me?"

"Of course I'm bloody with you," said Ron. "I was just hoping to be up against slightly less stupid odds is all."

"Well, have you got any ideas?" said Neville hopefully.

There was a strained stretch of silence as they both just looked at each other.

"Yeah…" said Ron. "Yeah, actually I do. Let's go see Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Neville said incredulously. "I know he's fond of his monsters, but I doubt he's best buds with whatever's hiding out in the Chamber."

"I'm not that thick," said Ron. Neville felt a smile tugging at his lips for the first time in too long. "He's been at Hogwarts forever. He was working here back when Mum and Dad were at school."

"You think he might remember something from last time it was opened," Neville gasped.

"See?" Ron said. "And besides, I'd much rather get a pity party from Hagrid. He's less likely to tell my parents I need to go home and cool off or whatever."

"Now there's a chessmaster strategy," said Neville.

"Oh get knotted, you tosspot," Ron said, smirking slightly.

"The question is how to get past Hermione without her realising we're doing something," said Neville.

"If you're sure about that…" Ron tried. "Bloody hell. Fine. Invisibility cloak. Come on, we don't need her for everything."

They snuck out past a 'reading' Hermione who was glancing surreptitiously towards the boys' staircase every ten seconds. Never had they been so glad of the little lobby area between the common room and the portrait. Hermione would have noticed the Fat Lady opening for phantom students in no time.

"You were right!" Ron hissed as they reached the fifth floor.

"Of course I was right," Neville said sourly. "You think I wanted to lose her?"

"Nah," said Ron. "Just… it's getting to be way too much way too fast. If one of us goes, we've had it."

"Well, we just won't let that happen," said Neville.

They broke out into the powdery snow in a flurry of tickly snowflakes. It was only falling heavier as time passed, and while Ron was able to snuggle comfortably into his winter robes, Neville's cuts only stung worse when he tried to touch anything. Even the mere feel of his sleeve against them was becoming more than simply irritating. Leaning back against a support on the bridge, he focused his mind on the cuts on his face and hands.

"What are...?" said Ron. "Woah! Neat."

Blinking his eyes open, Neville looked down at the palms of his hands. Not a trace of his injuries remained.

"Huh," Neville grunted. "Now if you know the Warming Charm, our problems are solved."

"Don't be daft," Ron snorted. "That's Hermione's job."

"Yeah," said Neville. "It was."

And so it was a bitterly cold pair of Gryffindors who knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut. Their huge friend appeared almost silhouetted in the doorway, a fire raging behind him, making the hut so invitingly warm that Neville almost trembled as it touched his face.

"Get in 'ere then," Hagrid smiled. "Me hut's gettin' cold."

Ron and Neville did not need to be told twice. They soon found space on the sofa, and Ron soon found Fang the boarhound slobbering all over his knee.

"So," said Hagrid. "How're you two gettin' on?"

"We're dealing with it," said Neville.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Helps to keep busy."

Hagrid sniffed. "I never thought I'd hear…"

"Hagrid," Neville said firmly. "He's going to be alright."

He rather felt like he was spending half of his life reassuring people of this. Only now did it dawn on him that there was nobody there anymore to reaffirm his own convictions.

"He's James's son," said Hagrid. "O' course he'll be alrigh'."

"Hagrid, we came because we really need to talk to you about something," said Ron.

"Eh?" said Hagrid. "I'm always 'ere, yeh know tha'."

"Hagrid," Neville said gently. "We've been keeping busy by investigating. We wanted to talk to you about the Chamber."

"Wha…?" said Hagrid. "I… I don' know nothin' abou' that."

'Of course you don't,' Neville mused.

"But it was opened before," said Ron. "Mum and Dad said you've been here since before they came as kids."

"Musta bin before my time," Hagrid said gruffly. "I tell yeh, boys, I don' know nuthin about it."

Hagrid couldn't even meet their eyes, looking sullenly at the ground and windows. Fang whined at the big man. His eyes clouding over, Neville got to his feet, startling everyone.

"Hagrid!" Neville shouted, enraged. "Slytherin's monster has free reign of the castle, and Harry is lying almost dead in the hospital wing! Have you been to see him? When they brought him back he was burned so badly the bones were literally falling out of his body!"

Hagrid stared helplessly at Neville throughout his tirade, unmoving. A few seconds passed in silence. Surprised at the force of his own outburst, Neville was just trying to calm his now heavy breathing when Hagrid burst into loud tears.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I didn' want ter… Drat. Yeh deserve ter know."

Neville and Ron shared mystified, helpless looks.

"It wasn' him," Hagrid swore. "He would never…"

"Hagrid," said Ron, putting a comforting hand on the big man's shoulder. Even with Hagrid seated, it was not an easy task. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Hagrid sniffed. "Yeah… Yeah, alrigh'. It was abou' fifty years ago now."

Neville's eyes went wide. Much as he respected Ron, he hadn't expected his friend to be so close to the mark.

"It was attacks, same as now, but more often," Hagrid sniffed. "Six students Petrified. The seventh…"

"No…" Neville groaned.

"She never did nothin' ter anyone," said Hagrid mournfully. "Other bloody girls gave her hell the whole time she was 'ere. Sorry afterwards, o' course, when they found 'er in tha' bathroom, but what diff'rence did tha' make?"

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed sullenly.

"Which bathroom?" Neville frowned.

"Firs' floor," Hagrid said dismissively. "She's still 'ere. Not very chatty, bu'…"

Neville stared at Hagrid for a moment, wondering how exactly that was appropriate. Then it hit him with the force of a Bludger to the face.

"Myrtle!" Neville exclaimed.

"Tha's 'er," Hagrid said heavily. "Dunno why she came back, to be honest with yeh. She deserved the rest after what 'Ogwarts put 'er through. What they told the parents…"

"Hagrid," said Neville. "What do you know of the monster?"

"I' wasn' Aragog!" Hagrid said suddenly. "An' they bloody knew it too, or they'd've 'unted 'im."

"Aragog?" Ron frowned.

Hagrid sighed. This clearly was not his day. "After she died, one o' the prefects found me with an Acromantula."

"You bloody what?" Ron exclaimed, jumping away in terror.

"What were you doing with a giant talking spider?" Neville said, exasperated.

"One o' the folks down in Hogsmeade had an egg when I went down there the firs' time," said Hagrid. "'E told me it was an exotic spider from the East that would grow to the size of an Abraxan… He said one of 'em could chase off an elephant, and they could bring one down in a pack."

Neville shook his head, incredulous. "Hagrid, why did you keep one in a school? They treat humans as a delicacy!"

"'E promised he wouldn' ever hurt a human!" said Hagrid. "And he never has!"

Sighing, Neville wondered if Hagrid would ever gain a sense of responsibility around deadly creatures.

"So, what happened?" said Ron.

"The prefect, Riddle, tried to kill Aragog," Hagrid growled. "My boy was too fast for 'im though. Knocked him right on his pretty-boy arse he did. Fled to the Forest. Bu' Riddle told the 'eadmaster, and I was expelled, wand snapped, and the attacks stopped so they all jus' pretended like nuthin 'appened. Like a girl hadn't bin murdered in the toilet!"

Neville gaped.

"Hagrid, if the attacks stopped when your spider…" Ron began.

"No," Neville interjected. "Acromantula cannot Petrify. That's why Hagrid isn't in Azkaban. Whoever was doing it got in too deep and used Hagrid as a way out."

"And now they're back?" said Ron.

"We need to talk to Dumbledore," said Neville.

"Dumbledore knows everythin' already," said Hagrid. "Made old Professor Dippet take me on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore…"

"Surely he must be able to narrow down the suspects if he knows all this," Neville frowned.

"It could've been anyone," said Ron. Fang finally took this opportunity to return his head to Ron's lap.

"It had to be an Heir of Slytherin," said Neville. "An Heir of Slytherin who was at Hogwarts fifty years ago."

"Well, this is going to be easy," Ron muttered. "Let's talk to Myrtle, see what she's got."

"If it helps yeh," said Hagrid. "Aragog never told me what the monster was. But he said it's somethin' spiders fear more'n anythin'."

"Something giant spiders are terrified of?" Ron whimpered. "Great. That's just great."

"You know…" said Neville speculatively as they walked through the first floor. "Talking about Acromantula reminded me of something."

"How much you really don't want to talk about Acromantula?" Ron suggested.

Neville snorted. "Remember when we first started snooping around? When Percy caught us coming out of Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "And what?"

"And, we saw a bunch of spiders," said Neville. "They were scrambling up the wall, remember? Trying to get out through that crack."

"Yes, I remember," said Ron uneasily. "You don't want to follow them?"

"I don't need to," Neville smiled. "I know where they were going."

"Yeah, away from us," said Ron.

Neville sighed. "Aragog told Hagrid that the monster in the Chamber is the thing spiders fear most."

"So they're running away from the Chamber?" said Ron. "Unless we can trace the webs all the way to the entrance I don't see how that helps."

"For one thing, it confirms what Hagrid was saying," said Neville. "Which means we should be able to narrow down what this beast is."

"Dumbledore should too," said Ron. "He knows about the Petrifying thing and the spiders thing."

"And he's known for fifty years!" Neville fumed. "So why isn't he doing anything?"

"Hey, we don't know that," Ron consoled. "Maybe he's setting some kind of trap right now."

"For the monster?" asked Neville. "Or for us?"

Ron looked at him sharply, but Neville turned into Myrtle's bathroom, utterly ignoring him.

Within, Neville could hear quiet sniffling. "Myrtle?"

"This is a girls' bathroom!" she said shrilly, flying out in front of them so quickly they both took an instinctive step back. A moment passed before Neville realised that he had launched his wand into his hand. But upon seeing them, she apparently recognised them, turning sullen. "Oh, I remember you two. Of course you don't care."

Neither Neville nor Ron could come up with a counter to that. But Myrtle's countenance shifted once more from sullen to shy.

"Have you… Is Harry coming too?" she said. "The other girl won't talk about him."

"Err…" said Neville. "Maybe we can talk about Harry in a minute. We wanted to ask you something."

"Do you remember how you died?" said Ron.

Neville almost lambasted him for his bluntness, but from the way Myrtle's face lit up he decided against it.

"Oh yes!" said Myrtle. "Harry was asking about that too!"

"Really…" Neville mused. If anything, that seemed to confirm the idea that the same person who had attacked Harry was behind the opening of the Chamber.

"I died right over there," she said, pointing at the stall in question. "In that stall."

"You died on the crapper?" Ron said, incredulous.

"Don't be stupid," said Myrtle, angry to have been interrupted.

"Hey, it could happen," Ron grinned.

Neville put a hand out to shut him up. "Sorry Myrtle, you were saying?"

"I was hiding," Myrtle carried on, glaring at Ron. "Olive Hornby was teasing me again, about my glasses, so I locked myself in so I could cry in peace. But then I heard a boy come in. And I know it was a boy because he was saying something in some strange language, I don't know what it was, but I got out to tell him to go use his own toilet…"

Myrtle straightened, beaming like she had won an award. "And then I died."

"You just died," said Neville. "No spell, no sword, no slipping on a wet flagstone and cracking your head?"

Myrtle gave him a curious look. "No. Just a pair of huge yellow eyes. My body just sort of seized up, you know? Then I was floating away…"

"Hmm," said Neville. "That is helpful. Thank you, Myrtle."

"Where were the eyes?" said Ron.

Myrtle looked rather put out, like she had had more to say, but she pointed towards the central sink unit.

Neville and Ron moved over to investigate.

"What did the boy's voice sound like?" said Neville. "Do you remember?"

"Strange…" said Myrtle. "A high pitched kind of hissing or something."

"Parseltongue," Ron said, starting.

"Explains why nobody has found the Chamber yet," Neville agreed in an undertone.

"What are you two whispering about?" said Myrtle suspiciously.

"Just wondering what kind of language has a lot of hissing in it," said Ron.

"I don't know," said Myrtle. "You still haven't told me where Harry is."

"He…" said Ron, faltering.

"He's in the hospital wing, Myrtle," said Neville. "He got attacked, I'm… sorry."

Myrtle burst into angry tears. "Why would he… go and… get — himself — hurt…? Leave — me — all — alo-o-ooone…"

Neville shared an alarmed look with Ron, who gestured towards the door.

"Thanks for your help, Myrtle," said Neville. "We'll… just be going, now."

"Fine!" Myrtle snapped through her sobbing. "Everybody does! Who'd want to spend time with miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle?!"

The two boys hurried out and up towards the common room.

"Sheesh," said Ron. "If someone put crazy in a bottle she'd still be worse."

"I don't doubt it," said Neville, shaking his head. "But we've practically got the whole picture now."

"It's a snake," said Ron. "Shocker."

"All spiders fear it more than anything else."

"It can Petrify its victims."

"And it kills you if it looks you in the eye…" Neville muttered. "I've heard of a snake that kills you if it looks you in the eye."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Me too."

"Everybody has," said Neville. "It's in children's tales and legends."

"So why can't I remember its name?" Ron frowned.

"That doesn't matter anymore," said Neville. "Dumbledore must know what it is, and he hasn't said anything. That means he either wants to get rid of it quietly without parents finding out, or he's… waiting for something."

"Like what?" said Ron.

"Cursed if I know," Neville sighed. "But in the meantime, we can't afford to look around."

"How is that gonna work?" Ron said desperately. "We can't just stop using our eyes!"

"Maybe…" said Neville. "Oh!"

"What?" said Ron, fumbling for his wand.

"I've figured it out!" Neville gasped.

"You wanker!" Ron fumed. "I nearly had a bloody heart attack here!"

"Right, sorry," said Neville. "I just realised. Colin didn't look at the snake directly. There was a camera in the way."

"Right…" said Ron.

"Justin didn't look at it directly either…" Neville speculated. "Because… Nick! Nick must've been in the way, and he couldn't die again!"

"And Mrs Norris?" Ron asked eagerly.

"The water! There was water all over the floor!" Neville crowed.

"She only saw a reflection," Ron breathed.

"We must need more than just glasses," said Neville. "I mean Myrtle wore glasses, so…"

"A mirror?" Ron suggested. "Oh this is going to be just brilliant, walking around the castle looking through a mirror like…"

"Like Lockhart?" said Neville slyly.

Ron chuckled slightly. "Yeah, like that prat. But seriously, Neville, you want to just wander around the castle with a mirror until they catch the damn thing?"

"What do you suggest?" Neville returned. "We keep going to Duelling Club, and…"

"Until we can take it on ourselves?" said Ron incredulously. "This isn't like last year, Nev. We haven't got the girls, or Harry. And this is some legendary snake, not one man with an extra face on."

The unspoken 'even if that face was the Dark Lord Voldemort's' hung heavily over their heads.

"So what do you want to do?" said Neville. "Put a post in the Daily Prophet?"

"It wouldn't be a bad start," said Ron.

"It would never make the paper," Neville said dismissively. "No editor is going to take us seriously."

"Well, what about Dumbledore?" said Ron. "Or Professor McGonagall."

Neville gave Ron a dirty look. "The same Professor McGonagall who essentially told us to clear off and mind our own business last year? As if Dumbledore's going to be any better. Like I said, he knows enough to figure this out already."

"But he might not have figured it out," Ron insisted.

"You want to go talk to him?" said Neville. "Be my guest. But I got my shin blown out of my leg because the professors don't listen to students. I'm not repeating that mistake."

"Even if you don't expect anything it's better than nothing," Ron argued. "If this book has a hold on the girls, it could get us too. But do you think it could get Dumbledore?"

"That isn't what worries me," said Neville. "I'm worried about whether it would need to."

It being lunchtime, the boys agreed to ask Professor Dumbledore for an audience when they saw him at the Great Hall. Returning to their common room to dump their winter robes, as they had wandered towards Gryffindor Tower over the course of their conversation, they literally ran into the Weasley twins as they came out of the portrait hole.

"Watch it, midgets!" they said in unison.

"You've got like four inches on me," Ron griped.

"Which is why you'll never be as popular with the ladies," Fred grinned.

"Dick," Ron scowled.

"Exactly," laughed George.

"Give us a minute, would you?" said Neville.

"Why of course, my liege," said George.

"Shall I prepare the carriage?" said Fred, bowing elaborately with much twirling of his hands.

"Certainly," said Neville. "And be sure the horses are well watered."

The boys dumped their winter robes on the nearest sofa and headed down to the Great Hall with Fred and George, whose antics succeeded in raising their moods from dismal to merely grim. The icy steel grip of the hand on Neville's heart refused to relent. He would not know peace until the threat was passed.

The group of four took seats across from Hermione and Ginny, who appeared not to be engaged in any real conversation. While the twins were able to draw a few quips from Hermione, the silence became a trend, and the twins soon ditched them for their older brother. Lunch passed agonisingly slowly, and the only light at the end of Neville's tunnel was that Professor Dumbledore was eating at the Head Table. They would be able to fulfil Ron's foolish wish and be done with it.

Finally, Ginny put down her cutlery and left, having said barely a word all lunchtime. Hermione finished soon after, telling them she was heading to the library, and finally Ron and Neville were free to do as they pleased without the attacker's eyes upon them. Or so they hoped, at the very least. Heading up to the end of the hall once more, they found Professor Dumbledore smiling genially back at them.

"To what might I owe the pleasure this time, gentlemen?" said the headmaster pleasantly.

"We were wondering if we could talk to you in private, sir," said Ron.

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Meet me outside my office in fifteen minutes."

"See," Ron said as they left the Great Hall. "He will listen. He's a great man, Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, maybe," said Neville. "Let's see if he actually does anything."

"Come on, Neville," said Ron. "So maybe they didn't take us seriously last year. We were first years! This is the guy who beat the living snot out of Grindelwald. He's not scared of a snake!"

Neville tuned Ron out as they headed sedately up towards the headmaster's office. Regardless of Dumbledore's accomplishments, it was difficult for Neville to forgive the insult of the third floor incident. It was certainly hard to forget.

"He didn't give us the password, did he?" said Ron as they approached the gargoyle guarding Professor Dumbledore's quarters.

"Indeed he did not," came the genial voice of the headmaster.

They both turned to see him striding up the corridor after them, long blue robe billowing out behind him with swirling patterns of stars in brilliant relief. And yet the man's eyes twinkled ever brighter.

"Come now, Gerard," Professor Dumbledore said. "Do not keep us waiting."

The gargoyle sank into the alcove, and the section of spiral staircase it governed began to corkscrew upwards with it.

"After you," the old man smiled, ushering them on.

When they reached the top, Professor Dumbledore swept past and laid a hand upon his office door. A yellow light emanated from beneath his digits, and the door swung smoothly open to admit them.

"Please, take a seat," said Professor Dumbledore. He himself sat behind his desk, steepling his long fingers. "How may I be able to assist you?"

"We wanted to talk to you about the Chamber of Secrets," said Ron.

"A most regrettable set of circumstances we find ourselves in," the headmaster said forlornly.

"We know what the monster is," Ron said eagerly. "And we're fairly certain who's controlling it."

"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore said, turning his attention to Neville. Those bright blue eyes seemed to pierce to his very soul.

"It's a snake that kills people by looking at them," said Ron.

"The basilisk," said Professor Dumbledore, making the both of them gasp as the name was forcibly returned to their minds. His eyes, brightly sparkling as they were, remained fixed on Neville's. "King of the serpents. A most formidable foe indeed. For a specimen to be as old as Hogwarts herself, it might have grown to longer than eighty feet."

"We think Ginny Weasley is opening the Chamber, sir," said Neville. "We believe her to be under the control of a book."

"A book?" said Professor Dumbledore neutrally.

"It was the only thing unharmed in the attack on Harry," Neville expounded, watching the man's eyes with a sick feeling in his stomach. "And yet it was found right in front of him. Ginny has utterly withdrawn from the world, spending all her time with the book, and when Hermione tried to investigate she was... different, afterwards."

"I see," said Professor Dumbledore.

"So..." said Ron, confused. He was only now feeling the unease that had been growing in Neville since he agreed to come.

"I must commend the two of you," the headmaster smiled. "In spite of the hardships you have endured, you swiftly pulled together to find justice for Harry, and to protect your friends. Not as fast as my magnum opus, but such is the power of prophecy."

Neville realised then that he could not move.

"What in..." Ron exclaimed.

"Had you done a little more, you might have identified the spirit within the book," said the headmaster. "But no matter. You have once again proven yourselves worthy companions for Harry."

"But you're going to kill the basilisk, right?" said Ron desperately.

Neville snorted, and the headmaster once more turned curious eyes on him.

"That trial is not yours to pass," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Magnum opus..." Neville spat. Angry tears burned in his eyes. "That snake has killed a girl, and all that matters to you is your little project. I'll see you rot in hell, Dumbledore."

"One day, perhaps," said the professor, as though they were discussing a dinner party. "But for now I am afraid it is back to square one for the both of you."

Neville noticed only then that all the portraits in the room were mysteriously frozen. There would be no witnesses. And as the venerable professor raised his wand, Neville got the terrible feeling that this wasn't the first time.

"Say your prayers, old man."

"Obliviate."

The sounds of fighting echoed around Harry — explosions, yelling, and strange, repeated electronic-sounding blasts. Was it gunfire that he heard? If so, the guns were nothing like those on Earth. They almost reminded him of something he'd heard before…

He was veritably racing away now, entire solar systems blurring past as he accelerated through space. When he returned, he would have so much to talk to Hermione about. Harry gritted his teeth. And she would be there to hear it. A vision of her, laid supine upon a stone floor, flashed across his mind's eye. That voracious energy was gone from her eyes, staring blankly as they were at nothing. Harry stopped as if he had collided with a wall, gasping for breath.

'No,' Harry cursed himself. If he allowed such thoughts to distract him, he would only increase the risk of something happening to her by the time he got back. And that was to say nothing of Ginny, trapped in Riddle's grasp. Harry gritted his teeth, consumed with rage.

Reaching out once more to that feeling that drew him inexplicably across the universe, Harry flew forwards as if there were a rocket attached to his back.

"Ani, find cover! Quick!"

That name again. Anakin… Where had he heard that name?

It took Harry a moment to realise that he was no longer encountering other stars. They had become so diffuse that he could barely locate them around him. Surprised, Harry looked back, once more finding Earth as though there were a magnifying glass locked between them. And he saw the Milky Way spread before him. Its great spiralling arms flung out like streamers from the hands of a child, spinning in joy through the cosmos. Harry's breath was once more stolen from his chest, though not out of pain. How many others had seen what he saw now?

Harry knew he should carry on, that he needed to chase that call to the end of existence if he must, but he could not help but take a moment to stare. At their convergence, the spirals joined a distortion from the core, like a bar stretching across the very centre of the Milky Way where the light grew ever more brilliant from the sheer population of suns. The core itself, however, was truly blinding, a mass of light that defied Harry's eyes to define, and finally shocked him from his reverie. He still had a mission.

And as he turned to head deeper into an unknown universe, he was once more aware of the sound of gunfire.

"Get to your ships!"

Who was fighting?

An electronic series of beeps followed that were most certainly found no place on Earth and yet tingled Harry's familiarity bell even more strongly than all that had come before. A deep thrumming sound… otherworldly engines starting up with a distinct whoosh… the screams of the dying.

His resolve hardened, Harry hurried onwards.

More electronic whistling and beeping! Now Harry knew he recognised it from somewhere. It was so very distinctive! If only…

The deafening sound of afterburners drowned out even Harry's thoughts, though whatever engines these ships were using certainly ran on no fuel used back home. And that was when Harry pieced together the sounds he had heard. The electronic pew-pew of the guns, the complete lack of the sound of water… These were no sea vessels! The woman had been commanding the fighters to spaceships. If that were the case, he was likely headed towards a planet with an ongoing space battle. Harry didn't know whether to be excited or terrified. This was going to be just like Star Wars.