Chapter 19: End of Innocence

Tuesday, May 25th began like any other day. Harry woke up, did some exercises with Neville, showered and got ready for the day. He went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and that was where everything changed.

Harry stared at the headline on the Daily Prophet, hardly able to believe the words he read, yet unable to refute them. Deep down, he knew that it was the truth.

Rage coursed through his veins. A quick glance showed that Dumbledore was seated at the head table, calmly eating breakfast as though he didn't have a care in the world. Harry wanted to run over there. To scream. To yell. To curse the old man and his stupidly long beard. It was all his fault.

Harry forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. It didn't help. So, he took another. And another. He realized that his hands were shaking, but he couldn't stop them.

Finally, he stood, ignoring the anger still filling him, forcing himself to leave the hall before he did something drastic. He left the paper on the table, headline still visible for anyone looking.

SIRIUS BLACK KILLED ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE AZKABAN

The day passed in a blurry haze, Harry barely able to focus on the classes he was attending. All of his thoughts kept going back to his deceased godfather. Some part of him recognized that it was strange for him to be so affected by the death of someone he'd never actually met. A very small, introspective part of him recognized that Black had become the embodiment of his hopes for the future. That once Black had been freed, and managed to obtain custody of Harry, he would be safe from the Dursleys and Dumbledore. Deep down, he knew that what he was really mourning was the loss of this idyllic future. It didn't change how he felt.

Several times, Neville and Hermione asked if he was alright. Even some of the other students that he knew, but had less frequent contact with, such as Fred, George and Katie, were concerned. He couldn't explain everything, so he settled for just responding that he was fine and leaving it at that.

Finally, the day was over. Harry found himself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The other boys' snores filled the room, but Harry couldn't sleep. His mind was filled with thoughts, just as it had been all day long. And from this jumbled mess of feelings, ideas, and half-formed theories, came one conclusion.

"It was my fault," he whispered softly to the darkness.

Everything he had done with Justice, attacking the Slytherins and the resulting furor, had allowed Fudge and the other corrupt members of the ministry to switch focus away from what had been the top political issue. And given how poorly things had gone for the ministry with the debacle of the trial, it was no wonder that Fudge wanted to avoid another such scandal.

And it could all have been avoided if Harry hadn't decided to lash out at the guilty Slytherins.

Sleep was a long time coming.

Not surprisingly, the meeting with Peter that week focused primarily on one topic.

"Officially, there is going to be an investigation into his death," Peter said quite sympathetically, but not attempting to hide the harsh truths. "Realistically, however, they're not going to find anything. This is more to reassure the public that Azkaban is safe."

"Safe, unless you're an innocent person thrown in there because you angered the wrong person," Harry retorted bitterly.

Peter nodded, but chose to continue his report rather than responding to Harry's observation. "Fudge's office has already announced their conclusion that Black was, in fact, a Death Eater, even though they haven't offered any evidence to support that claim. The argument seems to be that because he was trying to escape before the investigation could be completed, it is only logical to assume that he knew the Aurors would eventually find something incriminating."

Peter paused for a moment. Harry thought he looked a little uncomfortable. "What is it?" the boy finally asked. "You've obviously got something you don't want to tell me. Just spit it out."

The older man sighed, but nodded. "With the Minister's support, Lucius Malfoy has already filed a motion that he should inherit Black's material assets."

"When does it go before the Wizengamot? Wouldn't I be able to challenge on the basis that I was his godson?" Harry asked.

"The Wizengamot would be making the decision in an ordinary case of someone without a clear inheritor. Since the ministry declared Black to be a Death Eater, there are some old pieces of legislature left over from the war that come into play. In this case, they're using the Inheritance Safeguard Act. It was intended to cut off financial support for the dark lord and his followers by allowing the Ministry to overrule any will left by a deceased death eater, choosing instead to give that money to the nearest relative in good standing. The ministry, of course, has a great deal of flexibility in determining exactly who gets the money," Peter finished cynically.

"But that doesn't have to go through the Wizengamot? Seems odd that they would pass a law like that handing power over to the Ministry. Isn't there usually some tension between the two?"

"Yes, there is. Officially, the Wizengamot is supposed to combat corruption in the ministry, and vice versa. It doesn't work, but there is some residual tension, as you said," Peter agreed. "You're forgetting, however, that this particular law was passed during the war. The Wizengamot wanted to be seen doing something to stop a very real problem, but they were too afraid of possible reprisals to want to be connected to it directly. This allowed them to say that they supported measures to cut off funding, but it would be some unfortunate flunky in the ministry who got the blame if the dark lord decided to retaliate."

"So now, without any real evidence that Black ever committed a crime, a real Death Eater is using this leftover bit of law to steal all of his money," Harry summarized angrily.

"Yes," Peter replied simply. "In the long run, we may be able to prove malfeasance, allowing the Wizengamot to intervene, but that would be difficult without something major to prove the law was improperly enforced. You will probably never be able to satisfactorily prove that Black wasn't a Death Eater, so the best chance would be to prove that Lucius Malfoy was one. Getting people to listen, however, will not be easy." Peter thought for a moment. "Short of catching him red-handed, I'm not sure what it would take."

Harry nodded, frustrated, but not surprised. "I don't care how long it takes. Somehow, I'm going to prove that my godfather was innocent, and that Malfoy and Fudge are the guilty ones," he vowed. "And Dumbledore, too," he realized. "It was his fault that Sirius was being held in Azkaban at all."

"I had a feeling that you were going to say something like that," Peter said with a small smile.

"I realize that this isn't what you originally signed on for," Harry began, but Peter cut him off.

"Yes, this particular job hasn't turned out as I expected. But, it needs to be done. I didn't expect this much corruption. It's one thing for a government to be ineffective in fighting a, to be honest, very powerful yet elusive foe. That's a problem, but something that can be dealt with by eliminating the enemy. For the government itself to be involved in such corruption that they arrest innocent people and kill them rather than letting the truth be known is unacceptable. My boys are magical. They'll be heading to Hogwarts in a few years. I don't want them to enter a society like the current one. So, I'll help you fight."

"Thank you," Harry said genuinely.

"Unfortunately," Peter began, "that's not going to be easy. It's going to take more people than we currently have, and it's going to take money."

"Which I can't currently access, thanks to Dumbledore," Harry finished. "Have you had any luck with the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked.

"I got Chad to take a look, but he didn't have a clue. I haven't had any success. And to be honest, I've been wondering about the whole idea of the Philosopher's Stone for a few months now."

"Wondering about it…" Harry prompted.

"As you know, the Philosopher's Stone is said to have two primary functions. It produces the Elixir of Life, and it can be used to transmute lead into gold. Apart from Nicholas Flamel, there have been no reports of anyone ever successfully achieving either objective. One commonly accepted maxim in magical theory is that accomplishing two unrelated tasks simultaneously is at least as difficult as accomplishing them separately. In potions, it's called Golpalott's Law. In transfiguration, it's Chindwithle's Law. Herbology has the Pertwynn Principle. But it all boils down to the same general idea."

"Doing two things at once is harder than doing them separately," Harry mused, realization dawning. "And creating an object that can do two unrelated things, such as making gold and bestowing eternal life, when nobody else has ever accomplished either one, is shockingly unlikely."

"Exactly. I don't think the stone is real. Either it's a cover for separate inventions that actually do what Flamel claims, or he's been straight-up lying to everybody for centuries. It's possible that the person we call Flamel isn't even the real Nicholas Flamel. Like the Dread Pirate Roberts," he said.

"Dread Pirate Roberts?" Harry asked, completely confused.

Peter shook his head. "It's from a movie, but you get the point."

Harry groaned. "The point is that it's useless for us."

"Precisely."

"So, we have no way to get more money," Harry concluded.

"The object we call the Philosopher's Stone will not help us get money," Peter said. "But I do have another idea. With everything happening with the Chamber of Secrets, I took some time to research a little more. Much of it is nothing more than rumor and myth, obscured by the mists of time, but there is enough substance there to get an idea of the truth behind the legend. There was supposed to be a creature in the Chamber of Secrets. I believe it to be a Basilisk."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'd come to the same conclusion," he replied. "I know that it's a snake, because I heard it during detention with Lockhart, and the only snake I could find with powers close to that was the Basilisk. Don't know why it petrifies instead of killing, though," he added.

"It could be some modification done by Slytherin before he put it in the school, or it could be that nobody has looked it in the eye directly. They just saw its reflection."

"Either way, I still don't understand what that has to do with our current situation," Harry stated.

"Basilisks are extremely rare, but can be used to make very potent potions. And this particular Basilisk is very old, which increases the potency. I did some investigating to determine the value of Basilisk parts, and I would not be surprised to discover that the carcass of this particular Basilisk would be worth hundreds of thousands of galleons. Maybe more."

Harry felt his jaw drop in shock. "That's a lot of money," he said in amazement.

"It's a one-thousand-year-old basilisk," Peter replied. "According to my research, they never stop growing. Of course, we need to find it and kill it first. But if we can do that, we should have plenty of money to keep us going for years."

Harry nodded. "So how do we find something that has been hidden for centuries?"

Peter smiled triumphantly. "But, it hasn't really been hidden, has it? It attacked people, both this year, and fifty years ago. And when I investigated the attacks, I noticed something interesting. Despite there being more than half a dozen attacks, the only one who was killed was a girl named Myrtle Warren. She was killed in the girls' bathroom on the second floor."

"Where Mrs. Norris was attacked on Halloween," Harry added in surprise.

"Exactly. And that's not the only coincidence. The other attacks were clearly staged. The person was attacked, and then moved to the location they were found. Investigators at the time believed that it was to help conceal the culprit's identity, but I wonder if there was another reason," Peter said as he pulled out a map of Hogwarts with some writing on it.

"I wasn't able to find out the exact locations of the other attacks, but I have the general area, usually identified in terms of which hallway on which floor. Sometimes the report was more specific, stating a particular alcove or something to that effect. And what I found is that the location where the people were found was all centered on that bathroom."

"Look," he instructed as he pointed to a red dot on the map. "This is the bathroom where Myrtle Warren was killed. That was the only attack on the second floor. I copied this point on to the other floors, so we could see where the bathroom would be. There was one attack on the seventh floor," he gestured to a blue dot which was in a corner, about as far from the red dot as possible, "where the victim was found a great deal away from the where the bathroom would be."

Harry studied the map closely. "Two attacks on the fifth floor," he mused, "both closer to the bathroom than the attack on the seventh floor."

"On those two attacks, I was unable to find anything to locate specifically where the victim was found. It could be that the distance was the same, accurate down to a few metres."

"And the pattern holds true all the way?" Harry asked, still staring intently at the map.

Peter nodded, even though Harry wasn't looking. "Fourth floor, one attack. Closer still. Third floor, it gets even closer. In fact, the attacks on the first and third floors were almost perfectly aligned, just on different floors. And the victim in the basement was placed at a location almost the same distance from the bathroom as the attack on the fourth floor, though it was on the south side of the building, instead of the north."

"You think Voldemort deliberately left clues that would lead to the basilisk?" Harry asked incredulously. The evidence was right in front of him, but he still had a hard time believing it. "Why on earth would he do that?"

Peter shrugged. "Without knowing his goal for the attacks, we may never know. If your parents are correct and Tom Riddle really was Voldemort, then he was an orphan without any real prospects in life. Maybe this was part of his plan to build a better future for himself. Stage some attacks, and then he notices the pattern and kills the basilisk. He gets a fortune from selling the carcass and a great deal of fame for saving the students from the monster."

"But he didn't go through with it," Harry objected.

"Like I said, this is all guesswork on my part. Maybe that was never his plan. Or maybe it was, but after a student was killed, he didn't want anything that might connect him to the crimes, for fear that people would be taking a closer look, and might grow suspicious."

"You know, it occurs to me that a witness to the attacks might have more information than all these secondhand accounts," Harry commented as an idea came to mind. "I wonder what Moaning Myrtle would be able to tell us."

While Harry was planning how to approach the specter haunting the girls' bathroom, he was, himself, approached by someone he had not expected.

"I noticed that you had seemed a little out of sorts during class these past few days, and I wanted to check that everything was alright," Lupin said, his voice warm.

"As well as one can be after learning that their godfather, despite being innocent, was held prisoner and killed by the ministry," Harry retorted.

Lupin seemed taken aback by this blunt statement. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "I must admit that I find myself somewhat surprised that you have been so affected. Had you ever actually met Sirius Black?"

"No," Harry replied. "Unlike you, or any of my parents' other friends, I never had that opportunity."

There was a definite pause, and Harry took a small amount of pleasure in the shock and momentary panic that was evident on Lupin's face.

"You know… about that?" he finally asked.

"Get Hagrid talking, and he can't keep his mouth shut. He told me all sorts of things about my parents while they were in school. And isn't it amusing how often your name came up?" Harry's voice made it clear that he didn't find it amusing at all. "Were you ever going to tell me that you knew them?"

"I thought it would be best for you not to have to worry about that sort of thing with one of your professors," the man tried to explain.

"Yes, because why would an orphan want to learn more about his parents from one of their friends?" came the sarcastic reply.

"I thought it might be better to just let the past lie, rather than opening up old wounds," Lupin stated weakly.

"Better for you, or better for me?" Harry retorted. "I have to admit, I'm beginning to wonder just how good of a friend you really were. You don't want to reconnect with your friends' son, even just to see how he's been. And from what I can see, you don't even care that one of your friends was just murdered by the government, with assistance from your hero Albus Dumbledore."

"The headmaster had nothing to do with it," Lupin protested.

"He was the one who suggested in the trial that Black be held until an investigation could be conducted to ensure that he wasn't guilty of any other crimes," Harry responded flatly. "So yes, he did, in fact, have something to do with it."

Lupin seemed at a loss for words, but rallied himself. "I'm sure that Dumbledore was doing what he felt was best. Sirius was a… complicated individual. He had a dark side that may not have been evident in Hagrid's stories."

"The ministry couldn't even find something to charge him with, and yet you're still willing to condemn him. What dark side could he have had that would justify being held in Azkaban without even being accused of a crime?"

"A number of his actions during his time here at Hogwarts take on a different light given later events," Lupin began, but was cut off by Harry.

"Later events like being framed for crimes he didn't commit, and being falsely imprisoned. If anything, shouldn't it be Peter Pettigrew's actions that take on a different light?"

"Both," Lupin admitted. "While we all enjoyed pranks, the two of them frequently pushed for harsher, more painful pranks. In fifth year, Sirius took that to an unthinkable level, with a prank that nearly killed another student. There are things that I cannot tell you, but I assure you that the Headmaster had legitimate reason to be concerned about Sirius' actions."

"I assume that this 'prank' had something to do with the fact that you're a werewolf?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

This startled Lupin more than anything previously in the conversation. "How… how did you know?" he whispered hoarsely.

"You're always sick on the full moons, and your boggart turns into a full moon. It wasn't tough to figure out," Harry responded flatly. A slightly malicious grin spread across his face. "I did warn you that a person's deepest fears were personal and could reveal things that ought to be kept private."

This time, Lupin took longer to compose himself before continuing. "Yes, as you surmised, it did have something to do with my lycanthropy. The headmaster had arranged for me to attend school here, despite the many obstacles that lay in the way. Every month during the full moon, I was escorted by Madam Pomfrey to the Whomping Willow, which guarded a secret tunnel to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, where I could transform without hurting anyone."

Lupin's face contorted, and his voice betrayed the anger he felt as he continued. "Severus had always been a bit of an adversary, and Sirius used that. He told Severus how to open the tunnel. Fortunately, your father learned what Black had done, and rescued Severus. Had Severus made it all the way to the shack, he would have found a fully transformed werewolf. He would have been killed, and I would likely have been executed. Sirius Black, of course, didn't care about that. Even after his actions came to light, he still felt that he had done nothing wrong. So, yes, I do feel that it was acceptable for the headmaster to take whatever steps were necessary to ensure that he was truly innocent."

"I think you're wrong, but I also realize that there is nothing I can say that will change your mind," Harry replied as he left.

Getting the information out of Moaning Myrtle was easier than Harry had imagined. His cover story of wanting to write a book about the Ghosts of Hogwarts was completely unnecessary. Instead, Myrtle had been enthusiastic, even ecstatic to share the details of her demise with the boy.

"She heard hissing, exited the stall, saw yellow eyes and died," Harry summarized for the group the next night. Chad and Henry MacArthur were there as well, given that this was a difficult task that might require all of their efforts.

"Hissing is probably parseltongue," MacArthur said gruffly. "It might have been commanding the snake, or it might have been opening the chamber."

"There is a sink in that bathroom that has never worked. That sink has a small engraving of a snake on it," Harry reported with a smile. "I think that's the entrance. If we can distract Moaning Myrtle, we might be able to open it."

"Not if it requires parseltongue," Chad objected.

"I'm a parselmouth," Harry said, trying to hide the discomfort he felt at admitting something like that.

"That's convenient," the American said. "And kind of cool. Is it really an automatic thing? Like, you don't even have to think about it, you just understand what the snake says, and can talk back to it?"

"You can ask questions like that later," MacArthur interjected. "Now, we need to concentrate on our plan." He turned back to Harry. "So, you may be able to open the Chamber. What then?"

"There isn't anywhere near that area of the school that could house a basilisk, and space expansion charms only go so far. It seems unlikely that the hidden entrance opens directly into the Chamber. More likely, it opens into a tunnel which does lead to the Chamber. If that's the case, Harry could leave the vanishing cabinet I currently have at my house in the tunnel, allowing us to access it whenever we want."

"And if that isn't the case. Suppose Potter opens it and comes face to face with a basilisk?"

"Then I fall over dead," Harry countered. "I'll keep my eyes closed and listen for any sound of the basilisk. If there is a hint that something is going wrong, I'll get out of there and we can call for help."

The old hitwizard still didn't seem completely convinced, but didn't offer any more objections. "As long as the goal is just to get the vanishing cabinet in place so that we can come up with a better plan later, I'm fine with it. I just don't want us to underestimate one of the top predators in the world."

"So, how do we distract Myrtle?" Chad asked. "And am I the only one that thinks 'Moaning Myrtle' sounds like a nickname you'd give a porn star?" As the others turned to look at him, he shrugged. "Just an observation."

"I could get Peeves to do it, but I don't think I want to rely on him to keep quiet about something like this," Harry said, ignoring Chad's other comment.

"If I recall correctly, ghosts celebrate their deathdays," Peter said thoughtfully. "And this year would be the fiftieth anniversary of Myrtle's death. A celebration with her as guest of honor would certainly give us a window of opportunity."

"For all I know, the ghosts might have something planned already. If not, it wouldn't be difficult to arrange," Harry mused. "I'll talk with Nearly Headless Nick, and make sure that we have our distraction ready. She died on June 13th, I think. That gives us a little more than a week to prepare."

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was, as always, the embodiment of Gryffindor chivalry. Upon learning (or perhaps, being reminded) of the significance of the upcoming date for the ghost who had been so tragically cut down in the very halls (or bathroom) of Hogwarts, he immediately set forth to provide a celebration worthy of such a special occasion for the ghostly girl. From what Harry overheard, it sounded like what this really meant was that Nick had grandiose ideas, and the genial Fat Friar of Hufflepuff did the real work. But the end result was the same.

Harry attended the party for about an hour, accompanied by Neville, Hermione and, to his surprise, Luna, who had apparently heard about the party from the Ravenclaw ghost and thought it would be a fascinating research opportunity.

As the four left the party, he separated from the others, claiming a need to use the restroom, and that there was no need to wait for him. Checking the map to ensure that he was alone, Harry slipped into the vacant restroom and hurried over to the sink. He'd been practicing in Timeland, so there was no hesitation as he focused on the small snake engraving. Imagining it as a real snake, he spoke. "Open," he hissed, the first choice in a long list of ideas for possible passwords, if such was necessary. To his delight, he heard a grinding noise, and the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. The sink disappeared, leaving a large pipe, its pitch black interior giving no clue of what lay inside.

Harry grabbed his bag of rope, and attached the free end to the wall, then positioned himself in the pipe, and gave the command to slowly let rope out. Down and down he went, until he was sure that he must be below even the dungeons. Eventually, the pipe turned and leveled out, and Harry found himself standing in a large cave, with small bones littering the ground at his feet.

Remembering his promise to MacArthur not to take any unnecessary risks, he quickly expanded the trunk holding the cabinet and levitated it out onto the floor, positioning it inside a small nook in the cave wall. He then grabbed the rope and allowed it to pull him back up to the, fortunately, still empty lavatory. A few quick cleaning charms erased any evidence of his little detour.

Sneaking out of the dorm that night was easy, especially after all the practice he'd had over the past year. Peter, Chad and Henry were waiting just outside of Hogsmeade. Their greetings were quick, and quiet. Everyone knew what they were doing, and understood the risks, even though they had prepared as best they could.

Harry expanded the trunk to Timeland, and they all climbed in, then used the other pair of vanishing cabinets to travel to the one he had left in the cave. There was a small moment of panic when they saw a shed skin, but fortunately it turned out to be a false alarm.

"It's going to be even bigger than that," MacArthur warned everyone. "Get that in your heads now. Don't want anybody losing their mind when we need to be focusing."

None of the others responded, but it was easy to see that the reality of what they faced was finally sinking in.

The group had brought more than a dozen lanterns to ensure plenty of light. Though they found the door leading into the actual Chamber fairly quickly, Henry insisted that they explore the rest of the cavern as well, to ensure that there wouldn't be any surprised. It didn't take long.

"Are you ready to open this thing?" the old hitwizard asked.

"Assuming there isn't some sort of password," Harry responded. "In the bathroom, all I had to say was 'open'. Hopefully that works here as well."

"Slytherin, the ultimate embodiment of cunning, used 'open' for the password into his secret lair?" Chad asked mockingly.

"It would probably respond to anything in parseltongue," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"Let's hope that works here," Harry commented before turning back to the door.

"Everyone get ready," MacArthur barked, and the others drew their wands.

"Open," Harry hissed, and, as he had hoped, the serpents on the wall parted, leaving the way clear.

Everyone waited with baited breath, senses straining for any indication that the basilisk was waiting for them. After several seconds, MacArthur walked into the room slowly, a lantern in one hand, wand in the other, ready to cast at anything that moved.

"It's clear," he announced after a few minutes.

Harry walked in, staring in amazement at the scene around him. Large stone pillars decorated with carved snakes rose up to support the ceiling, so far above that it was almost invisible. An eerie, green glow filled the massive room.

"Good thing we brought so many lanterns," Chad remarked as he entered the room.

"Get exploring. No surprises," MacArthur said, but his attention was clearly focused on the end of the hall, where a massive statue loomed.

Despite the unsettling décor, there was nothing to be found in the Chamber. More than once, Harry felt a prickling on the back of his neck he'd always associated with being watched, but there was nobody else there. And finally, the four gathered at the giant, stone feet of the statue.

"I think it's in here," MacArthur said.

"In the statue?" Peter asked.

Chad nodded. "I can detect a spell that is similar to one we use for vocal commands. My guess is that when the appropriate password is given, the statue somehow opens to release the basilisk." He gestured to a broom lying on the floor. "I flew up to investigate closer, and from what I can tell, I think the opening is in the head."

"Probably the mouth," MacArthur said. "Like the Dark Mark. A snake coming out of a mouth. It may be where he got the idea."

"So, how do we figure out the password? I don't think that 'open' is going to work this time," Harry commented.

"There are diagnostic spells that I can use on the enchantment to see what it responds to. Typically, as a starting point, I would use spells to see how many syllables the password has. But, since this password is probably in parseltonue, I don't have any ideas. Unless we want me to teach Harry the necessary spells, and have him try to figure out," Chad finished.

"We should just cut our way in," Henry said.

"Let me try something," Chad said as he looked at the wall thoughtfully. Peter stepped out of the way, making a small gesture.

Chad spent a few minutes casting spells, even climbing onto his broom to cast higher up. When he returned to the ground, he had a triumphant smile on his face. "I used a spell I learned from a cursebreaker that uses a sort of magical echolocation to see what's beyond a wall. At about the level of the statue's head, there is a large opening behind the wall. It's only about five feet of stone, and while the statue has charms to protect it from damage, the wall has no such protections. We should be able to use a stone-cutting spell to tunnel in."

"It's a good idea, but we need to get ready," MacArthur replied, then began issuing commands. "Bring that cabinet in here, put it off to one side in case we need to make a quick escape. Seal off the statue's mouth so the snake can't get out. We'll make the tunnel just large enough for a rooster so it can't get out that way."

"What if there's another way out?" Harry asked.

"Nothing we can do about it. We'll just seal this one exit, that's all we can do."

Preparations went quickly. A heavy steel chain had been wrapped around the head several times, under the chin the prevent the mouth opening, and in front of it, to stop the snake getting out if the mouth did open. The cabinet was carefully positioned in a cranny between the statue and the wall, which would theoretically make it difficult for the massive basilisk to get at it. Harry just hoped that they wouldn't have to put that theory to the test.

Cutting the small tunnel in the wall went quickly. "We're through," Chad announced as he dropped the sonar spell he had been using.

Casting a sonorous charm, MacArthur grabbed the first of the roosters and removed the bag from its head. Seeing the light that filled the room, the rooster crowed, the sound magically enhanced by the spell, almost to the point of pain.

Harry felt a thrill of shock and excitement as a loud thump sounded from the wall, seeming to rattle the entire chamber. Another followed, and another. Harry could just imagine the basilisk thrashing in its prison as the rooster's crow did its deadly work.

Finally, after at least ten minutes, the basilisk stopped battering the walls.

"Is that it? Is it dead?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself even though he knew that nobody else had any more information than he did.

"No sense taking chances," MacArthur said as he pulled the bag off the head of another rooster (the sixth thus far).

When no further sign of life had been detected after another five minutes of crowing, the former hitwizard decided that was enough. He pushed the rooster into the tunnel, using minor stinging hexes to force it into the basilisk's lair. Even after several minutes, the rooster could be heard moving around in the lair.

"So, either the basilisk is dead, or it left," Peter vocalized what they were all thinking.

"Expand the tunnel. I'll go in first," MacArthur said.

Harry swallowed deeply, trying to suppress the fear he felt as the old man disappeared into the inky blackness. Soon enough, light emanated from the hole, and he heard a familiar voice.

"You can come in, it's dead," the gruff man said.

Harry flew through the short passageway, and entered to find a breathtaking sight. The basilisk, larger than he had ever imagined possible, lay in its den, the vivid green scales glistening in the lantern light. Its mouth was slightly open, giving Harry a glimpse of fangs as long as his arm. He couldn't help the shiver that traveled down his back at the thought of facing a monster like this alone and unprepared.

"Holy…" Chad's voice trailed off as he stared at the carcass of the beast in front of them.

"That's even bigger than I had imagined it would be," Peter said, shocked.

"Should give us plenty of money to work with for the next few years," MacArthur stated with satisfaction.

"Or the next few centuries," Chad replied under his breath.

"Let's get it into the box," Peter said, as he resized a shrunken wooden crate to its normal size. "Sooner we're done, sooner we get out of here."

The interior had been expanded, but it was still a tight fight. As they all returned to the hill outside of Hogsmeade, Harry's mind kept going back to the basilisk, amazed at just how large the terrifying creature had been. He was just grateful that things had gone so smoothly.

Saying 'goodbye' after an incredible adventure like that seemed anti-climactic, but it had to happen. They each went their own way, Harry returning to Hogwarts quickly, noting in surprise that the entire experience had taken less than four hours.

Now, it would just be a question of how much they got for the basilisk carcass. Ideas for how to use the money flew through Harry's mind as he lay in bed, still unable to sleep.

And through it all, one thought was always there, lurking in the background.

The Ministry and the Wizengamot would pay for what they did to Harry's godfather.

A/N – Happy New Year!

I imagine that some people will be upset that I killed Sirius, but I don't think there was really any way that he was getting out. Too many people on too many sides wanted him gone. If they had known how Harry would respond, they might have found a different way…