Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

Chapter 22 – Reptiles
posted June 9th, 2020

I'm back again, dear Diary.

Last time, I had time to write these maudlin thoughts (I just re-read myself) because Charlie was in the shower.

Now, it's night time, and Charlie sleeps (men…), and I now have time to write about what just happened. I mean today, not five minutes ago.

You see, it is now summer, and John came back after another eventful year at Hogwarts. Me? I finished the first year of Auror Academy, with top marks in Concealment and Disguise thanks to my Metamorphmagus abilities. Now, if I could be less clumsy, I'd have better grades in Stealth.

But John's year tops mine hands down. I mean… he's not a liar, but even knowing that, I had trouble imagining what he told us afterwards.

A freaking Basilisk!

My little brother was pitted in a death match against a millennium-old behemoth able to kill with a glance… and slew it! Granted, the Headmaster's phoenix helped with debuff and healing, but still...

Knowing people wouldn't believe him, he asked Dumbledore for help and returned there. With Colin and his camera. With Ginny, too, for closure. With the twins, for the girl's moral support. And with his favourite trio of Ravenclaws, for his own support (and perhaps to brag a little… he is a boy). McGonagall was invited, too, as Head of House.

Dumbledore had to floor two questions, right then (asked by Hermione, because John had his mind elsewhere).

First, were there other basilisks around? Bless that girl and her logical mind! If there had been, they might have died, and we'd have to deal with the problem ourselves.

Second, was the dead carcass interesting, as ingredients or whatnot, and how was it going to go? Well, that's several questions in one, because one of the aspects was for John: as the slayer of the dangerous creature (a true weapon of mass destruction), would he be able to have a share of the profits, or parts of the beast?

Dumbledore was quite stumped, but after an interview with the goblins, everything was streamlined. Harry Potter was going to be even richer than before, with a few feet of indestructible hide reserved for when he'll be tall enough. And fangs and heartstrings if he wanted to craft his own wands – they reacted better with parts of an animal conquered by the wielder.

I saw the pictures.

The beast was truly humongous, especially with the group of little humans posing in front of its head and giving the viewer a sense of scale (pun not intended).

It also was quite heavily lacerated, its thick hide open with black blood everywhere.

I know that John isn't that proficient with the Cutting curse, especially on a hide that should be magically resistant. He's better at undirected spells, such as Lumos, and generally bad at everything involving visualization, such as Transfiguration – he still gets pitying looks from McGonagall, despite being better than before. But I'll help.

It's the least I can do. That Basilisk would have been unstoppable if it had escaped Hogwarts, and no doubt Aurors would have been called to try. I may owe him my life.

But back at John's manner of disposing of the creature. Once again, I bless Dumbledore's apparent obliviousness. And I also reflect that it must be the reason for which Flitwick was not asked to come down.

Me? I saw through the lie easily enough, although I had a clue from what he told me earlier. Or rather the shell-shocked expression of Flitwick's sister – you know, the maker of John's new legs and eyes.

And I confronted John as soon as we were together… which was today. I finished my training a week before, and have spent the time with Charlie (who shared his time between me and his dragons). And John and dad came.

It's good that I asked my uncomfortable questions here, because he had enough space to show me exactly how he killed the beast.

He became a dragon.

That's his F-ing "secondary" Animagus shape. A big-ass dragon. And if that wasn't enough, the prostheses which morphed into his hind legs were metallic, and much harder than normal claws.

You know what? I'm not even registering what he said afterwards, returning to his own unassuming shape. Apparently, the dragon race he morphed into was clearly bigger than the dragons of the reserve, because that was only its adolescent shape.

I thought I would be the big sister, and strong Auror, and able to protect him all his life. It appears that he protected everyone instead. That's good, but it leaves me unsettled upon my career choices.

That's when cello notes reach me from far away – I think that the fact that I kind of expected them is the only reason I'm able to actually hear them – and perhaps also the fact that, with magic, he's now able to project the sound wherever he wants.

And I remember.

I remember when I used to cry for my mother when hearing the exact same notes.

I also remember when I vowed to become an Auror, the first time: it was to find the culprits of the attack which cost me my mother.

And that hasn't changed.

To be continued in next chapter: Insanity...