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Something is seriously wrong with me. Anyway, enjoy.

McGonagall POV:

"Potter!"

McGonagall scowled as she spied Snape shout in potent rage at young Harry Potter. The boy was crouched in the library door, holding onto a giant tome as he seemed to intently gaze at a pack of mixed black and white cards in front of him.

"Problem sir?" She saw Potter lift his head to gaze at the overgrown bat towering over him. She sped up quickly, unable to accept what she knew Snape was planning, but the corridor seemed to be impossibly long. She couldn't shout, no that would ruin her image. Professor McGonagall was cool, calm and fear-inducing at all times.

"Of course, I have a problem, boy." The humanoid snake with a skin condition said as he sneered at her house member. No. No! She knew what was coming next, Snape was following exactly what they had been taught. She had to stop this! She could already see the underdeveloped basilisk's smirk, his obvious delight at having put the fear of grease into one of her own. Hoping to avoid this, she sped up.

Snape started, causing McGonagall's heart to sink, "How dar-"

"Is it an arrow to the knee?" McGonagall could scarcely believe her eyes as the Professor of Unnecessary Cloak Flapping – it was only done right when she did it - seemed to choke on his words - or maybe he just choking on chicken bone from dinner!

"Wh- What did you say Potter!" Her happy smile abated as Snape caught his breath, managing to bring his coughs into control. What a missed opportunity.

"I asked if it was an arrow to the knee, Sir." Potter replied obliviously, having packed up his cards and a suspiciously shaped cloth wrapped object.

She was near them now, close enough to talk in her well-practiced stern tone without seeming to be trying too hard. It was a fine line she walked, but one she relished wholeheartedly, and she was much better than Snape at it.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Potter continuing off, "You'd be surprised how often it happens. I'm pretty sure almost all the guards in the whole are recruited after they've been shot in the knee."

McGonagall scowled at the interruption, but she was glad that neither Potter nor Snape had seen her yet. It could not do for one of her victi – students – and her rival to see her without total control over the situation.

Once again starting to speak, Snape stopped her this time, "Potter. If I had an arrow in my knee, why on Merlin's beard would I be here instead of using Hogwarts' frankly terrible sick leave? Now, don't be a McGonagall and show me what you're hiding."

She had had enough! Not once, but twice had she been cut off. And now Snape dared insult her in front of her and one of her slav – students! She would not accept this, "Severus."

She swelled in pride as both the pale man and spirited boy both froze. She spied a momentary flash of shock cross the potions professor's face, almost indiscernible from his perpetual sneer, but McGonagall had studied Snape's facial expressions deeply. Good, an unprepared enemy was a weak enemy.

"Minerva." Snape recovered quickly, "How good to see you here. I thought you would be at the meeting."

McGonagall smiled smugly at him, knowing both knew that he was supposed to be there as well, "Just taking a stroll to clear my head before we start." She looked to Potter, raising her eyebrow into Expression 512, a time-tested formula for scaring her students…

Her train of thought came to a crashing halt when, instead of seeing Potter looking at her with abject fear, he was ignoring her! How? Expression 512 had never failed her, none of the 500 series expressions had. Maybe she had done it wrong. Or he just hadn't seen her.

"Something the matter, Minerva?" Her heat sank at the smug tone in the knockoff's voice. He had seen her momentary lapse, and now he had the advantage."

Under no circumstances would she allow Snape to get one over her, "As a matter of fact, yes, Severus. After all, you know, Mr Potter, that due to the attacks the curfew has been bought forward."

At that Potter finally looked up at her, finished with organising everything in his bag, "Yes, Professor, I know about it."

"Then why are you currently hiding next to the library door hours after curfew?" She growled, Potter would fear her, would respect her.

"I mean I wasn't hiding Ma'am." Potter replied, a twinkling gleam growing in his eyes. One - that she would never admit to anyone - unnerved her.

"And what do you call crouching next to the door, behind one of the suits of armour at a time when you aren't supposed to be doing anything close to that."

Potter grinned, "Ah but, you're admitting there is a time to be reading a book next to the library. Aren't you?"

"… Yes, Mr Potter. I am."

"And that's when we are learning, right? And we learn in a school, don't we?"

"If you don't know the answer to that, then you have wasted more of my time than I thought possible, Potter." Snape's unwanted comment cut-in, making McGonagall shoot a glare at the Z-team reject.

"So, we can comfortably agree that we learn in a school and this is a school. Therefore, what else am I supposed to do here except learn?"

McGonagall smiled grimly, "Not learn when not allowed to."

"Aha" Potter crowed, lifting up a finger in a flagrant display of disrespect to her, one that was made worse by Snape's veiled coughs of laughter, "Why exactly was a curfew placed?"

"And what exactly will make me answer tha –"

Snape once again, decided to join the conversation, "We do not wish to put the students in danger by allowing them to wander Hogwarts unsupervised when they should be sleeping."

"Thank you, Professor." Potter continued, ignoring McGonagall's glare at Snape, her ire growing at his growing victorious smirk, "The curfew was placed due to the potential danger we could get into..."

She started to grow confused as Potter seemed to hesitate after having finished his sentence. For an awkward second silence filled the air as Potter seemed to be gazing intently at his hand, covered in… ink?

"Right, here we are." Potter murmured, before his seemingly boundless energy returned as he gazed confidently into her eyes, a sight so rare, McGonagall thought for a second that she had died and gone to hell, "But, due to the chamber opening, aren't I in danger in broad daylight too? I mean Fletchley got petrified during lunch and Nearly Headless Nick with him."

He then opened his arms, almost slamming a hand into her face, causing her eye to twitch as he finished grandiosely, "So, I believe, that as the danger during the night and the day is equal, and I am allowed to study during the day, I can with confidence say that the curfew is meaningless, and I can enter the library during the night."

"Even the restricted section?" Snape mused from the side, causing Potter to awkwardly scratch his head, seemingly having no reply. McGonagall had never before seen a worse sight. Somehow, with a single sentence Snape had managed to disrupt Potter's argument and force him to back down. She on the other hand had not been able to do anything similar after a whole conversation.

Snape smug laughter broke her from her thoughts, "Of course, a lion would dare to break the rules like this."

He smirked at her, "It's to be expected of them, after all. Without a firm hand to keep them in line, they will inevitably start breaking rules. My snakes don't have this problem, at least."

In an instant, McGonagall's wand appeared in her hand as anger roared in her mind, her breaths coming out in short puffs through her nose. She could feel her wand thrumming in her hand, urging her to fight back, to punish Snape for his insults.

But she couldn't. If she started cursing the greasy teacher then Potter would see it, would see her lose her temper. And through Potter, the other students would learn of her lack of control, damaging her reputation beyond repair. So, flexing her arm to send her wand back into its holster, she forced herself to smile grimly, as she stepped forward, closer to Snape.

"Are you so sure about that, Severus?" She retaliated, "Mr Flint seems to have recently found himself casting several dark curses at night."

She internally crowed with laughter as she saw Snape keep his face blank, save only for the smallest twitch of his left eye.

McGonagall continued, "And I found what he said when I spoke to him to be very enlightening. It seems Mr Flint decided that he would not listen to your instruction-"

"I'm sure Mr Flint said many things, Minerva." Snape cut in, his scowling brow furrowed just the slightest, "And I believe that we have a meeting to attend."

Allowing a brief smile of victory to flash past her lips, she turned to the avidly watching emerald eyed boy with a stern look on her face.

"I believe a week of detention is in order, Mr Potter." She said but grew confused when Potter seemed to not be greatly affected, "With Filch." Still no reaction, no pleading, "…In the forbidden forest?"

When all Potter did was grin and nod before he turned around and walked away, book hand, she was very worried. Were the 500 series failing her? It seemed to have no effect on the boy at all. Or maybe he just didn't see her properly. It was late at night; he must be tired and couldn't focus well. Yes, that must be it. She couldn't be losing her touch.

Her faith in her fear-inducing capability restored, she turned to see that the vampire reject had already walked off, ignoring her as he walked to the Great Hall. Soaking in the feeling of victory at getting one over Snape, she strode after him, ready for the meeting.

The few minutes to get there were silent save for the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the walls, she busied herself by repeating her prepared speech for another time. Hogwarts was hosting the meeting today, meaning she had to present a good image to gain the respect of her peers. She shuddered to think of what they thought of her school, with Hagrid's recent rousing speeches of rebellion and a cockroach masquerading as a teacher. If they thought bad of her school, had no respect for it, by association they had none for her.

Arriving at the large doors leading to the Great Hall, she readied herself. Once she entered, it would an hour of veiled insults, meticulously prepared presentations and eccentric personalities. Sharing a short nod with the similarly displeased pale man by her side, she opened the large doors.

Stepping into the hall, she was met with the satisfyingly low murmur of the crowds inside. It would not do to shout after all. It was magically proven that the lower you spoke, the more fear-inducing you were. All manner of species filled the room, Humans, Goblins, Veela, Sasquatch, the Irish and even a few vampires from the school in Spain.

As she walked, the quiet murmur calmed down, eventually falling to silence as she reached the head table. Standing where Dumbledore's seat sat, she looked over her guests, her peers, her competition.

"Welcome." McGonagall said, ensuring her commanding voice reached even the farthest professor, "To the 531st annual meeting of the Pure Professors. I bid you all a good welcome and hope that we, the pure, manage to come to agreement on this night on the best method to strive for greatness, for respect, for fear."

Allowing the murmur of agreement to fade away, she continued, "Now. Before we begin, is there any urgent matters that one of the pure wishes to raise."

Immediately, but with a measure of calm, which she approved of, one of the teachers from Argentina stood up, "Madam McGonagall, I have an urgent matter which I believe will greatly interest the pure."

Wordlessly, she motioned for him to continue.

"Fellow teachers, I wish to bring to your attention an event of such horror that I shudder at even just thinking of it. An act so… impure that I wish to clean my eyes from even witnessing it."

"I recommend dragon blood, works for blood, works for eyes."

"Yes, thank you Warlord Trigor." The Argentinian man bowed his head, before continuing, "But I digress, this event was so terrible that there must be consequences."

"Do tell." McGonagall said, ensuring that it was a command and not a question. Without doubt, the board was watching. Questions were for the weak, the disrespected. Commands were power, and if it got her closer to winning then she would do anything.

The teacher replied quickly, thrusting an arm – a rare act of anger for one of the pure - to the nearby Dutch congregation, "Barely a month ago, as I was visiting the Dutch school, I saw one of the pure…" The man swallowed as he tried to speak, the words coming out only half-formed.

Curious, McGonagall leaned forward, mirrored by Snape to the side of her, until finally the man was able to speak, "I saw one of the pure… apologise to a student."

For a singular moment there was only silence, the crackling of the fire had disappeared as the entire world seemed to draw back in shock from what they had heard. The Argentinian teacher was sweating profusely, having collapsed to his seat as he barely managed to keep himself awake, the effort of even saying the word having worn him out. The accused sat frozen, eyes wide as her fellow teachers physically drew back, silent gasps echoing from their mouth in their horror.

Then there was only shouting. A roar of shouts and threats seemed to wash over the room as many of the pure shot to their feet, faces red. Wizard hats, part of the dress code, seemed to form a sea of spikes as turmoil filled the hall. No! If this continued, they would be challenging her power in her own school, if no one listened to her then all hope of winning would be gone.

"Enough!" She roared, resolving to do it only the once but desperate times call for desperate measures. At once, silence filled the hall, broken only by the harsh breathing of all the pure in the hall.

"This is a serious accusation to make, Professor." McGonagall said, returning to her quiet tone, the threat silent in her words, "Are you sure of what you saw?"

"As sure as I can be, Madam." He replied, bringing a fist to his chest, "I vow on my honour as one of the pure, as a harbinger of fear and doom, that I have spoken the truth and only the truth."

"Then this calls for a trial." Snape said to the side, "I am sure the truth will come out then."

The words of the interfering bat seemed to push many into action as the four house tables were stacked on top of each other and pushed to the side, leaving an empty space in the middle. The accused Dutch teacher was pushed to the middle and made to sit on a summoned chair. The woman sat with a blank look on her face as she seemed to struggle to process what was happening.

"Miss Rivers." McGonagall started imperiously, "You stand accused of an act of kindness to one of your victims, do you deny it?"

The teacher seemed to finally recover her wits at her words, as she sat up and replied with a firm voice, "Yes, Professor McGonagall, I deny it. Professor Itiari is simply trying to accuse me in an effort to remove me from the competition."

"Lies!" Itiari roared from the side, accompanied by the nods of his companions, "I saw her. With the second year. He was crying in front of her and she apologised to him. I can show my memory of it.

Hiding her wince at the word, McGonagall turned back to the Dutch woman, "Do you still deny it even though we have evidence off your crime?"

"Yes." She replied instantly, "You know as well as I do that memories can be modified. They do not count as evidence."

"Then bring the student here." A voice shouted from the side, high pitched, but still male. The speaker was short, likely a goblin, but McGonagall could not see his face as it was hidden by the large, worn wizard hat he was wearing.

Ignoring the speaker, but acknowledging the point, before she could start speaking, the accused started, "There is no student to bring here, as it did not happen."

There was moment of silence as the group took in her words, but McGonagall knew that even if she was lying, there was no way to prove it. Locking her gaze with Snape for a second, they had to be allies here, they came to the same conclusion.

"We call all the teachers from the accused school to testify in front of the court."

But even then, no new information was given. With each successive professor, the chances of proving the crime lessened. None of her colleagues had seen any event similar to what she was accused of. Some said that they had been growing worried of her lack of detentions recently, but it was only circumstantial.

When the last witness was finished, the defendant was smirking in her seat, a victorious smile playing across her lips, "Seeing as there is no evidence, I believe the charges can be droppe –"

"No." Professor Itiari said, "I saw it. I know it happened."

"But you can't prove it."

"Then, fight to the death." The unknown teacher shouted from the side, joined by his fellow goblins. McGonagall swore she knew that voice.

"Yes. Yes! We shall fight. Professor Rivers, I challenge you!" Itiari pointed a finger at Rivers, excitement across his face.

As one, everyone in attendance drew a sharp breath at the even playing out before their eyes. McGonagall could scarcely believe. A challenge? The last time she had seen one was when she was but a Pure Apprentice and learning of how to induce fear in her victi- students.

The Dutch woman snarled, rising to her feat, "I accept the challenge."

The moment her words were uttered, the magic woven into their wristbands took effect. The runes lighted up in quick succession as a humming filled the air. Still in shock, McGonagall managed to allow the two magical signatures access into Hogwarts. With the sound of rushing air, two people, one pyjama clad and one in robes, were portkeyed into the space in the middle of hall as all the professors, excluding the challengers, were hidden from sight.

One of the people lifted their head in confusion with a bleary expression across his face, revealing themselves to be a young, fifteen-year-old boy.

"Professor Itiari?" The boy croaked, confusion filling his voice, "Whas happeni…"

McGonagall smiled in appreciation as the boy trailed off, never finishing his sentence as he stared straight at his teacher. She knew what he was seeing right now. The slightly uplifted brow, the downturn of the mouth into mixture of a snarl and a smirk, the piercing eyes locking onto your own as they seemed to gaze into your very being, stripping your confidence from you piece by piece. It was glorious.

"Quiet." Was all Itiari said, utilising the classic 300 series. And with that, the boy immediately fell silent. She and Snape nodded together at the sight. This was what it meant to be one of the pure. And even though Itiari would be tough competition, she respected good work.

And now it was accused's turn.

"Professor?" The small second year boy in front of the blonde professor said, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, "Is something wron…"

History repeated itself as the boy froze at his teacher's stern expression, the correct response when being faced by one of the Pure. Maybe Itiari was lying, and Rivers hadn't apologised.

"Did I do something wrong?" She was cut off as the boy seemed to step up to the young woman, tears brimming into his eyes "What did I do? Why are you angry with me? Please don't be. I'll fix it. Whatever I di-"

"No." McGonagall watched in horror as Professor Rivers broke down, her stern face crumbling away to be replaced by a teary smile as she hugged her student, "You didn't do anything wrong, Mr Beeck. Just go back to sleep. Somnus. You did nothing wrong. It was me." Then as the boy closed his eyes to fall back to sleep, she continued one more time, "I'm sorry for scaring you."

Once again, magic filled the air as the challenge finished. Both students were portkeyed away, back to their schools as all the Pure in the hall started shouting again as various teachers fell over, struggling to breathe.

In an instant, McGonagall raised her wand, summoning the wristband from the blonde teacher's arm. She had done it right in front of her, there was no denying it this time.

"From this moment on, you are no longer part of the Pure Teachers." Snape drawled, looking down at the woman with disdain, "Henceforth, you are impure. I believe that is enough for tonight. We shall meet again tomorrow night to continue on with the agenda. Goodnight and please ensure all of those with heart attacks are sent to the relevant institutions. Also, remember that the committee does not provide mind healing for free."

Rivers silently left the hall, followed by the rest of the hall, who ensured they stayed far away from the criminal as they carried their fallen compatriots who were foaming from their mouths. McGonagall let out a deep breath as the hall emptied. Tonight, had been one of the most stressful of her life. Her reputation had been challenged, her position in the competition had been shaken by her companions, but that was not what made her silently sit and think.

"Well, that was interesting wasn't it?" A voice spoke out, a familiar one, one that when she had heard it only a few minutes ago she should have recognised immediately. Dread filling her heart, she turned to gaze at the emerald eyed boy standing in front of her, busy stuffing a hat into his pocket.

McGonagall said nothing, she couldn't say anything she was in so much shock.

"So, Professor. Can I come to the meeting tomorrow? Today was pretty interesting." Potter leaned forward, "But what exactly is this meeting for?"

"Mr Potter!" McGonagall screamed, shocking even herself as she stood up abruptly, but the boy in front of her only continued grinning, "Why are you here? How dare you disobey my orders!"

"You never told me to go back to the common room, and I've already been punished for being out of bounds tonight." Potter's grin grew only wider, "But back to before. Is this some type of cult? Cause if so, what day of the week do you do animal sacrifices, or even better, human sacrifices! Always an interesting story behind those. And a great boss too!"

"I have never…" McGonagall said, ignoring his words, grabbing the bespectacled boy's shoulder and started dragging him to the door, completely forgetting her training on the way, "You have completely flouted my commands! Ignored my instructions! At least another month of detention!"

But even as she shouted at the maniacal boy, ignoring muffled curses of it being too stuffy in pockets floating to her ears, and she dragged him to Gryffindor tower, she could not get rid of that small fear in her. That small fear at what she had felt.

That fear of the small amount of emotion she had felt when she saw those tears.

Hermione POV

"My lady! I have come for you!" The handsome knight asked, his glorious blonde hair falling across his green skin. He was statuesque, his aura overwhelming. His sword gleamed in the light, covered in runes of an ancient and long forgotten language.

She felt her heart stutter. Had her hero truly come? Would he peel away the layers of sadness that covered her with a single embrace. She had never felt so joyous, so in lov-

"Stop! Stop! Please for my sake stop, Ms Granger."

Lockhart's voice broke her concentration, causing the illusions to fall away, the tall tower crumbling away, the handsome blond knight withering away, "Something wrong sir?"

"Yes, there is something wrong!" Lockhart steamed, confusing Hermione. She thought she had done pretty well, "Blond? Really? How cliché can you get? Where's the imagination?"

Hermione gasped, raising her hand to her mouth. No! Had she messed up? Was Lockhart not blonde? Why else would he dislike blondes so much? Maybe he was an albino? What was she supposed to do?

Mentally she slapped herself. She forced herself not to panic, calling back to what the girls at school had always said when they were talking about hair. Didn't they do something when they said it as well?

In a flash, Hermione appeared next to Lockhart, shocking the man into silence. Solemnly, she reached forward and hugged him, "Sir. I just want to say I think your hair looks fabuuuuloooos."

She felt Lockhart stiffen under her embrace as she waited for him to hug back with the appropriate response. For ten seconds she waited, hugging her instructor, before finally she couldn't take it anymore and she looked up at Lockhart with confusion on her face.

"Is everything all right, sir?" She asked the frozen teacher, her mind racing, what had one of her classmates said when she had dyed her hair puke green by accident, "If you want to get rid of hair dye, use baking powder. You won't have to be blonde for much longer."

She stood to her tiptoes to pat his head like her mother did to her when she had made a mistake, "There, there. Eveything'll be okay."

Hermione felt a surge of happiness burst from within her when Lockhart finally started responding. She had done it! It had worked. Slowly, a weird smile appeared on her face as the professor started wringing his hands together, which could only mean one thing.

"Don't worry, Sir." She said quickly, cutting him off from speaking, "I'll be sure not to tell anyone about the mistake you made with your hair."

"…"

Hermione relished in the silence. She loved silence, she adored it, she spent most of her time in it, but her mother had told her to try and not be silent for a long time while staring someone in the yes. But now Professor Lockhart was doing it, and he was an adult, and even better, he was an Imaginer, so if he was doing it, then it must be right. And for her to make him fall silent must be an achievement, a gift, for he could enjoy the blessedness of silence.

Finally, Lockhart decided to break the silence, obviously he had read the book, 'How to Tame a Human' by Puccih the goblin. It had been one of the first wizarding books she had read. In it, even though she thought of quiet as golden, it had advised that silence should only fill the air for twenty seconds at most, "Yes. Thank you, Ms Granger. How… kind of you."

Patiently, she watched as Lockhart smiled crookedly once more, before he headed around to his desk and he started searching the inside of it, papers being thrown everywhere as he searched for something.

Faintly, she could hear him mutter incomprehensibly, "Damn… Master never prepa… for this… supposed to say now… not following the script… where's that… there it is… index, index… is l after j… page 119… guide to… awkward people… what… another two chapters on her type."

"Ms Granger." Hermione perked up, to see Lockhart staring at her, his eyes turning slightly red. Was he sick, "Are you by any chance close to Harry Potter?"

Hermione smiled at the mention of her friend, the person who had introduced her to a world of possibilities, "Yes, Sir. We're friends."

"Right, right." Lockhart muttered, once again ducking his head under the desk, "Moderately to highly insane then. There we go. Chapter 252…"

Her confusion grew at the sudden silence that had overtaken her instructor. Curious, she peaked over his desk slightly, spotting the not-blonde professor staring woodenly at a gigantic book in his hands. But her attention was immediately piqued by the large exclamation mark that covered the page of the book Lockhart was staring at.

"Sir, why is there an exclamation mark?" She asked eagerly, mysteries having always fascinated her.

Lockhart let out a small yelp at her voice as he jumped slightly. Turning around slowly, Hermione spied him holding his wand tightly. She smiled brightly at the sight. Just like he had shown in the first DADA class, he was a true wizard, always prepared, perpetually aware of danger, even in a safe place like Hogwarts.

"Someone else has been petrified! Call the teachers! I know who did it! There was red hair on the floor! It could only have been The George Weasley! There is no Heir of Slytherin! It's a hoax! A conspiracy! It was that master prankster, who is so much better than his brother, all along! Call McGonagall! No, wait! Don't call McGonagall!"

"Percy was the one petrified, tuo idiota! Of course, there would be red hair!"

"Just because you say it all fancy doesn't make you smart, Fred!"

"Don't think I don't realise what you're trying to do!"

"What? Educate the world with the truth!"

"All right! That's enough! When I'm done with you, you won't be able to ever touch a dungbomb once again!"

"No! Please! Anything but that! I'll accept McGonagall! McGonagall! Help! There's an inferior prankster threatening to infect me! Help! No! I'm too young to stop pranking! No! Nooooooo!"

Hermione and Lockhart both eyed each other cautiously at the news of yet another attack. But then Hermione fell back onto the first lesson she had learnt at Hogwarts, especially after having had her first conversation with Harry.

Ignore it!

Lockhart's shaky smile reappeared once again, "It's just there to… remind me about something, Ms Granger."

"Remind you about what?"

"…"

"…" Hermione waited expectantly.

However, her question was not answered as she stepped back in order to give the suddenly standing Lockhart space. In an instant, her sight of the blonde professor was blocked as a blinding light appeared before her. Eagerly, having seen this only once before, she watched as the silhouette in the middle of the light slowly became a real person.

"It can only be explained by telling a story, Ms Granger." Lockhart said sagely, although Hermione's gaze was focused on the gigantic grey beard almost falling onto the floor, "A story filled with unseen darkness, light and heroes unknown."

"Sir," Hermione started, "Why do you look like Professor Dumbledore?"

"… I think it important to perhaps check to see if the Messrs Weasley are alright."

Ron POV

Easter truly was the time of giving. Whilst not an extremely important holiday in the wizarding world, Ron celebrated it all the same, after all… the food. But very rarely did things go right for Ron, no the world was cruel, why else would the special feast planned for Easter be cancelled due to the recent attack on Percy.

So that left Ron with very little options on what to eat for today, which was something that he could not allow. While he loved the food in the Great Hall, he had found it distinctly unsatisfying today. A word he thought he would never describe Hogwarts' food as.

But it was true, so now he stood here, hidden in the dark corner of the common room, illuminated only by the slowly dying crackling fire in the firepit. Why he stood here? Well, Ron had learned that for some reason people enjoyed talking at Dinner instead of eating, the sad beings that they were. And Fred and George had dropped a bloody interesting fact the other day.

"Kitchen, kitchen here I come." Ron murmured to himself, eyes glinting with joy as he started creeping towards the exit. Being hidden was important here. The kitchen was too important for his opportunity to enter it to be blown.

Fishfinger by fishfinger, Ron neared the exit, wand clutched in hand. It wouldn't do for the Well-Sized Lady to see him, as despite their obvious shared love for food, she would probably tell the teachers that he was out after curfew. So, he had made a plan on how he would leave without being recognised.

He snaked out of the shadows, placing himself like prime-beef ready to charge at the door. Even though he knew that he had to reach heaven, he couldn't help but be slightly nervous at what he was about to do.

But he firmed his resolve as he whisked away that train of thought, he couldn't afford to be nervous. He would do anything to reach the holy land, for food. Risking his life was little price to pay in exchange.

With a soundless roar, Ron charged forward, his arm moving unbidden as he sent a gravy-coloured spell at the door. The alohomora did its job, forcing the door to open and waking the Well-Sized Lady up if the high-pitched shriek ringing through the air was any indication.

Rushing through the portal, Ron streaked like a bloodhound towards the staircase, already knowing that the portrait was starting to turn and would soon notice him. He raised his wand, ready to summon the fog spell he had learned especially for this.

Until the banana peel slipped him up.

For a moment, Ron didn't react as he lost his support, his momentum sending him sliding forward. However, that state of mind didn't last long as he started toppling over the hallway railing. Unbidden, he tightened his grasp on his slipping wand, though his thoughts were still consumed by the sudden betrayal of his staunchest ally, food.

"Whyyyyy!" Ron wordlessly shouted as he tumbled forwards, the phenomenon of gravyty taking over as he started eggcellerating downwards. He continuously flipped, unable to stop his momentum, his robes were whipping around in the air.

Catching sight of the floor approaching steadily, he forced himself in a position as straight as asparagus, as stiff as a piece of French bread. For a moment, he was gliding through the air in this position, rigid as a board until he whipped his hand forward, wand in hand.

Unbidden, his magic responded instantly, a blinding link of magic latching onto one of the stairway railings and pulling him forward. His arm screeched in pain, but he didn't let go, managing to hold on until he had reached a lower landing.

The link disappearing, his momentum bought him forward, sending him crashing towards the aged, wooden door. Ron couldn't move his wand fast enough as the wall grew larger in his vision. Closing his eyes, Ron braced for the impact as white covered his vision.

The surprisingly soft impact. Ron felt as if he had been enveloped in in a blanket of comfort and softness as he was unexpectedly bounced back, sending him crashing to a halt against the bannister.

Ron lay there, eyes wide open in shock at the door in front of him. The door with a silhouette of Ron's body that was slowly disappearing before him. The previously old, faded door has a new sheen to it, the torchlight reflecting off it.

He stood up, jaw still slack in surprise as he unsteadily walked towards the door, his silhouette gone. Reaching out with a hand, he hesitated a hairbreadth away, already feeling an unnatural coolness. Wiping the hesitation away, he poked the door, watching in awe as his finger sunk into the surprisingly firm door, a texture he knew well surrounding his appendage.

Pulling his finger out, scraping a small part of the door away as he did, he held it close to his eyes, inspecting the small brown goo. Then daring to lick it, Ron drooled as the taste of chocolate jelly, something he had never had before, filled his palate. But all thoughts of eating more disappeared as he realised what he had done.

Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Food cannot be transfigured or conjured from non-food items, or else it would simply disappear after a while, with no nutritious value. But looking at the jelly door in front of him, he knew in his heart that it was real food, and that it was not disappearing.

Which meant, it all had to disappear before someone else came. No one could know, or else Ron would have to waste good food on them. No, he had to make it go away.

Grinning as he approached the door, canines glinting in the light as a pool of desire appeared in his eyes, he thought one simple thing.

This would lead to a great many things in the future. A great many meals.

Neville POV

Neville believed in second chances. But not in 259th chances.

Which was why he was currently lying-in wait on the second floor, alert for any sign of his prey. And who was his prey, you ask? Why Peeves the Poltergeist of course.

Now, Neville wasn't a very vengeful boy. Honestly, he thought he was pretty mild all things considered. Especially when compared to Harry, whose emotions flip-flopped more than a drunk metamorphagus' appearance. Tonks was great.

So, all in all, he wasn't prone to vengeance much. Except in this case. Neville often practiced with his violin during the night, when he could slip away from his dormmates and be himself for a bit. He had long memorised the prefect's patrols and always kept an ear open for the steady clapping of McGonagall or Snape's shoes.

For the past year, he had gotten away with it. Never being found out, or even in danger of being so. Silencing charms had been the first thing he learned when he had come back for his second year. He had been completely fine and would have likely kept on being so if not for Peeves.

Neville thumbed the shrunken Screeching quaffle in his pocket, as he thought back to the mad dash towards Gryffindor tower he had to do when Peeves had led Snape towards him. He had been in a dangerous game of cat or mouse with the bat, who had only been distracted by Neville himself releasing a real bat. Who would have thought that the annual bat would come in handy?

When Neville had managed to slip into his bed, his dormmates sleeping soundly, he had vowed revenge on the poltergeist. Peeves had declared war and Neville had a track record of winning those. So, he had investigated. Investigated where Peeves spent most of his time, or at least at what time he was reliably in a place. His questioning had led him to lying in wait outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, a place where every Tuesday, Peeves tried to prank Moaning Myrtle. An act that was apparently notoriously hard among the ghost community.

Neville focused back on the dark doorway he was creeping up upon, his steps muffled by the silencing charm he had placed around them. He had taken every precaution to avoid attention, from teachers or ghosts. Silencing charms, sound charms on the other side of the castle that mimicked the sound of student's crying, sure to attract McGonagall and Snape's attention.

Coming to a stop just outside the door, which seemed to be looming over him, the blackness of the door absorbing the torchlight that faintly lit. Neville muffled a curse as he almost tripped over something lying on the floor, only just able to steady himself against the door without a sound.

Looking down to see what he had tripped on, the blood drained out of his face at the soaked cloak that lay on the floor, the blackness melting into the door. Except for a single spot on the cloak that stood out, even if only due to the unexpectedness of it being there. The blood seemed to glow in the dark, a trait that Neville knew could only be attributed to certain people. Powerful wizards and witches.

Neville whipped his head to look around him for any more signs of what had happened here. To find a bloody, discarded cloak, especially one that looked pretty small, was a classic sign that something was wrong. But seeing nothing, his gaze locked onto the door that he stood next again, the lack of any sound from beyond it suddenly making the much more disturbing. Even when walking past here in the day, Myrtle could be heard crying. Couple that with Peeves being in there, why did he hear nothing. Peeves was never quiet.

Swallowing heavily, Neville burst through the door, following the spots of blood, wand raised in an attacking motion. Charging into the bathroom, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Moaning Myrtle and Peeves frozen, their faces drawn into horrifying screams. And standing next to them, studying them intensely stood Harry Potter, normally manic face set into a thoughtful frown as he prodded Peeves, wand sinking into the poltergeist.

"How- ?" Neville croaked out in disbelief as he lowered his wand, staring at his dormmate, "How'd you get in here?"

"Easy." Harry answered, continuing to study Peeves as Neville approached him, "I walked in here."

"I've been outside for ten minutes." Neville retorted, slightly wary of the serious boy in front of him.

Harry's characteristic smirk graced his face, making Neville sigh in relief, "I know. I saw you."

Neville opened his mouth to reply but found himself unable to say anything. Knowing it would be useless to argue, he instead switched to a more pertinent line of thought, "What are you doing here?"

"Following something." Harry replied, motioning to the paralysed ghosts, "The something that did this to them."

Neville looked up at Myrtle, drinking in the silent scream that marred her face, "The Beast?"

"The Beast." Harry affirmed, even as Neville followed Myrtle's gaze, seeing it centred upon the circle of sinks in the middle of the room. Walking towards the sinks, he studied it, thumbing the shrunken violin in his pocket, drinking in the safety and warmth it provided to him.

"How'd you know it was here?" Neville asked, noticing a strange shape on one side of the worn, silver taps. Squinting, he focused on the curved shape. Eyebrow raising inquisitively as he noticed the carving looked like a snake.

"I tracked it." Harry's voice drifted from behind him.

Neville stood up from his crouched position, "You tracked the beast when not even Dumbledore could?"

Harry's emerald eyes glinted in the light, "I didn't track the beast. I tracked Weasley."

Neville twisted around to look at the grinning boy, who had joined him to stand next to the sink, "What do you mean Weasl –"

His question was left unfinished as both him and Harry flung their wands to the door, a blasting curse leaving his own and a ball of fire bursting from Harry's. The two spells streaked towards the now open entrance, only to slam into a thin film of blue air that had coalesced into an icy shield. Through which Neville could see their uninvited guest.

Daphne Greengrass stared down at them imperiously, face set into a blank visage, but in her eyes Neville could see the indescribable rage that filled her. Daphne was angry, extremely so and Neville had never felt more afraid for his life.

"Well. Apparently, fire isn't her weakness." Harry said, his voice filled with sorrow, "What about a laughing baby?"

"Potter." Daphne snarked, "Of course you'd be here."

"I did learn how to track from you." Harry bowed, "And the beast is a basilisk. The better question would be why wasn't I here sooner?"

Neville recoiled, whisper shouting, "A basilisk!?"

Both Daphne and Harry ignored him, both their wands still sporting glowing tips, which were growing larger and larger. But Neville couldn't think about that now. The Beast of Slytherin was a basilisk? That explained a lot. He had studied them when he and Sprout had started growing mandrakes to un-petrify the petrified students earlier in the year. Thinking back to all the areas where a student had been found, there had always been a mirrored surface nearby. Percy and Nearly Headless Nick, Colin and his camera… and looking back to the entrance, where behind the door lay a small robe, he knew who the newest victim had been. Ginny Weasley.

"You figured it out too?" Daphne's voice broke him away from his thoughts, causing him to look back to the arguing pair in front of him. But now they weren't arguing and were casting their gazes around the bathroom.

"Yeah." Harry was bouncing on his feet, his entire body vibrating in what most people would assume as fear, but Neville knew to be excitement, "Her coat was at the door and there are traces of her everywhere around the room."

Daphne cut in, "But only in the room, she hasn't been outside in a while and the blood on the cloak is somewhat fresh…"

Neville gulped, finishing the sentence, "She never left the room." He turned to stare at the engraving of the snake on the sink, already knowing where she had gone. His strange action seemingly drawing the other two's attention as they joined him to gaze upon what he was looking at.

"Is that…?" Harry said excitedly, as he crouched to get a closer look at it.

"Slytherin's emblem." Daphne answered, a faint sigh of relief momentarily leaving her, before she steeled herself, forcing her stony mask to return, "And the most likely entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

Neville turned to look towards the door, wishing that a teacher would appear. Hogwarts was a large castle and whilst it would be easy to attract a professor's attention, it would be an almost impossible task to convince them fast enough to save Ginny, especially if she was bleeding.

"We have to go in." Daphne stated, retreating and levelling her wand at the sink, "They're… they're shutting down the school if another death happens. And the longer we take, the more likely Weasley dies."

Neville nodded, wordlessly walking to join her, next to Harry who seemed to teleport to the girl's side. As one, they moved their wands, sending out the strongest spells they knew, sending up a cloud of sparkling smoke. Neville flung blasting curse after explosion curse he knew at the sinks, drawing on his knowledge his father had drilled in his head. He would not let another person die if he could help it. He would do it for her. For them.

Stopping the barrage, the sound still echoing in his ears, Neville frowned at the sight of the completely intact structure in front of him as the smoke cleared, with nary a mark on them. Unable to believe it, he sent another blasting curse, watching it splashing harmlessly into the marble.

"If this sink believes it can hold me back." Daphne snarled next to him, eyes crackling with magic, "It is sorely mistaken!" Neville wished he could laugh at the twelve-year old, the words seeming to have come from someone much older. But he had to stop her before she tired herself out more.

"Wait." Neville cut her off, ignoring the small widening of her eyes to stride towards the sink once again. Pushing aside the raven-haired boy who had started turning random faucets open, muttering about puzzles, he conjured the image of a snake in his head.

"Open." He hissed, the words coming out of his mouth as he steadfastly ignored the two sharp breaths that emanated from behind him. He had hidden it for years and wished he could for longer. But he would reveal it if it meant saving Ginny.

Stepping back, he watched as the marble sinks sunk down into the ground, the grinding of stone filling the air as a large hole appeared, filled to the brim with darkness. In his periphery, he could see Daphne watching him with interest.

"You've been hiding –" The Slytherin started, only to be cut off by Harry who jumped forward to stare him straight in the eyes, causing Neville to flinch backwards in shock.

"Can you teach me?" Harry asked him, shaking Neville with a strength unexpected for a boy his size, "I'll fetch anything for you. Spells, blackmail, herbs. Anything. Just please, teach me!"

Neville forced himself to recover from the fervent shaking, the world spinning around him. Collecting himself, he made himself speak, forcing his tongue to obey his orders, "Can't sorry. It's an inherited trait."

"One I didn't know the Longbottom family had." Daphne said from the side, still staring at him with interest. But anyway, we don't have time for this Potter. We need to get going. We cannot let Hogwarts get shutdown."

Harry sighed, a clear sadness filling his eyes, before he let go of Neville. But then as if shocked he jumped up, an excited shout bursting from him as he whirled around to face the chamber's entrance, "You're right. The boss awaits. My blood awaits! I've been wanting to do this for years!"

Then without further aplomb, Neville watched as his fellow Gryffindor dived into the hole, disappearing into the blackness with a howl of joy following him. Neville stood stunned as he stared at where his dormmate had disappeared. He knew Harry was… different, but this was a basilisk's lair. One of the most dangerous creatures on the planet.

"Well." Daphne murmured as she steeped forward to peer into the darkness, "I hope he crashes."

Similar to the boy before her, Daphne hopped into the hole, nary a sound coming from her as she stared resolutely into the blackness, only determination on her face.

Neville wiped the shock of his face, walking forward to stand on the edge. Looking down, he summoned a courage he didn't know he had and closing his eyes, he jumped forward into the unknown.

Daphne POV

Daphne crashed into the floor; her breath forced out her in a rush of air. Dazed, she looked up to the cracked and weather stone ceiling above her, until she realised where she was and she shot to her feet, magic primed to lash out in a storm of fire.

They were in a cave, with one side being the exit of the pipe they had rode down on. All around her, the openings to similarly sized pipes covered the walls, condensation dripping down from them and splattering against the dark floor. The torches to the side burst into flames, the mage light barely repelling the darkness. Off to the side she spied some glowing mushrooms growing, above them a person she knew well.

"Potter." She drawled, stepping aside to let Longbottom fly past her and into the wall, "Why do you keep taking random stuff?"

"Hey!" Potter drew back defensively, but continued to stuff the mushrooms into his pockets, "I am not a kleptomaniac."

Daphne sighed once more, before she ignored the boy. Walking forward, she moved towards the other end of the cave, where she could faintly see a long, half-disintegrated object snaking its way across the floor. Nearing it, she blanched as it was revealed to be a long snakeskin, over forty foot long and from its decay, decades old. Magical creatures were preserved for years by their innate magic, but even that could only delay the effects of time.

For a moment, she hesitated, staring off into the distance at what appeared to be a circular door. Before she had deluded herself into thinking that the basilisk, whilst large, would not be overly so. No basilisk older than four hundred years had been seen in over a century, with the few caged once being only around two hundred years old. But looking at the skin in front of her, she knew that it was already bigger than those. And that had been years ago. How big was it now?

It would have been much better for them to call a professor. Let them deal with the basilisk. They were fully trained, masters of their field, some of the greatest and most powerful witches and wizards to be alive. But if Weasley died, if Hogwarts was shut down. Then, her studies would be set back.

No! She could not let that happen. Hogwarts had to stay open. If it closed, she forced herself not to think of the consequences. Of what would happen to her sister. The flower was but one part of the ritual. She needed so much more.

Daphne tore her gaze away from the old basilisk skin. She was the greatest witch in history, the most powerful to ever exist. She had discovered a new field of magic, she had devised a way to save her family. Daphne Greengrass' path to greatness would not be stopped by a mere basilisk. It would take much… why was there an acromantula in front of her?

Letting out a startled breath, she leapt backwards, a burst of light emanating from her wand. Her blood slowed to a crawl as the light revealed dozens more medium-sized acromantula around half her size scuttling in the darkness in front of her.

She ducked as an acromantula jumped towards her, her wand followings its movements and unleashing a stream of fire that engulfed the spider. The acromantula wailed, as it landed behind her, momentarily drawing her attention. She tried to turn as she felt a wave of bloodlust from behind her, but had barely managed to do so, starting right into the mandibles of the large creature before it was blasted away from her.

"Aragog!" She heard Potter shout, the boy coming to stand beside her, throwing out balls of light to illuminate the walls that were crawling with acromantula, "Come out, you foul beast! Let us duel to the death! Or let your honour be stained forever."

Shaking her head in disbelief at the strangeness of the boy next to her, she was forced to once again blast an approaching group of acromantula, only for a wave of… something to crash into the creatures, sending them smacking into the wall.

Turning her head slightly to look at the source of the wave, she was once again shocked to see Longbottom holding his violin in a playing position, the strings glowing slightly as he stared steadfastly at the walls.

She couldn't help the movement of her jaw as she realised what had happened. Longbottom had used the violin to do magic, strong magic at that. For a moment, only disbelief filled her as she stared at the Boy-Who-Lived, who had apparently created an entirely new field of magic.

"Well, I see you two little morsels have learned some new tricks." A large acromantula, bigger than any she had even heard of, chittered from an alcove in the wall, various eyes gleaming white in the darkness, "Such a shame. You would have served well as the sidepieces in our victory feast."

"I don't think Hagrid would appreciate that." Longbottom said evenly, thrumming his violin slightly, causing the encroaching acromantula to fall backwards.

"Hagrid understands in sharing. We share with him our food, he shares food with us. That is the basic tenet upon which our Republic has been built." That caused Daphne to quirk an eyebrow. She had never heard of an acromantula Republic. Very few species were organised enough to have formed a nation. But they had wasted enough time already. They had to get rid of the acromantulas, then deal with the basilisk.

"Sorry for interrupting this fascinating conversation." Daphne said, stepping forward, her magic rising and filling the air with power, "But we need to get going."

"Do you really think you can defeat us all." The large acromantula laughed as it emerged from the shadows, a chittering mirrored by his smaller minions, "You overestimate yourself. If we wished to, you would be dead already."

"Then why aren't we?" Potter asked from the side, his pattern of speech thankfully back to… whatever normal was for him, stalling the approaching monster in its tracks, "It's because you can't. Or at least you won't, is it? Acromantula are afraid of basilisks, you're their natural prey."

Understanding dawned on Daphne, mired with shock at Potter's clear quick understanding of the situation, "So, you're here to kill it. Before it kills all of you. But you need your entire cluster for that. You fight us, some of you die and you'll be too weak to fight the basilisk."

"And we need you." Potter continued on for her, "We're under levelled, unprepared and on a time limit. So, why not team-up. Fight the basilisk together. With our magic and your numbers, we can take on the basilisk.

For a moment, silence filled the air as Daphne and the two Gryffindors stared at the creature in front of them, all three aware that if the acromantula decided against helping them, they would have to react instantly.

"Very well, boy." Aragog finally spoke, creeping closer to tower over Daphne, "You and the girl have spoken the truth. For now, we will fight together, as the workers fight against the elite. However, do not take this as a permanent offer of peace from the Republic. This agreement is temporary and will end as soon as this is finished."

"We understand, acromantula." Daphne spoke as to the side, Longbottom lowered his, "But if you betray us."

"Oh, he will. They always do" Potter mumbled from the side, momentarily making everyone look at the unapologetic boy.

"If you betray us." Daphne repeated, deciding to wisely disregard the idiot, "You will regret it."

"I am sure." If possible, the spider seemed amused, "Now, I hope that if you figured out how to enter the pipes, you can find a way to enter the chamber."

Daphne looked to the boy next to her, knowing that he could easily open the doorway with parseltongue. And what a surprise it had been to hear Longbottom use that particular talent. If Daphne could be jealous, which was impossible, she might have been at that. Parsel magic was apparently quite powerful, if seen as dark, and now the hero of the light had a talent the dark lord had been renowned for. Ironic.

Longbottom sighed, before he walked forward, the crowd of acromantulas parting before him as came to a stop before the large door, which was adorned with great stones snakes that lay in a circular formation, with the tails of each in the others mouth, forming one never-ending serpent.

She kept her gaze locked on the largest acromantula, seeing the so called Aragog chitter and leap back as Longbottom hissed, fear clear in the creature's eyes. The sight of which made her smile. They should fear them, she wasn't just any witch after all.

With a loud groan, the stone serpents slithered across the doorway, the sound of gears clicking away as the door opened, slowly, causing anticipation to build up in Daphne despite her attempting to squash it. This was Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, one of the most theorised and talked about secrets of the British Wizarding World. People had spent their entire lives attempting to find it and uncover the mysteries inside it. And now here she was, a mere 12-year-old, about to step into it and battle a gigantic and extremely dangerous basilisk. She truly was great. She would succeed. She would stop Hogwarts from closing.

The door finally opened all the way, revealing a circular entrance to a large, room, almost like an atrium. Green light flooded the chamber, lighting up the simple stone pathway that cut through water to stop at a large platform, beyond which lied a great statue. A statue of Salazar Slytherin's face only that is. The long-dead wizard lay immortalised in a gigantic creation that loomed over the entire chamber, hewed from finely cut stone and marble, the face set into a impassive glare that seemed to press down upon Daphne, trying to make feel small, weak in front of what had once been one of the greatest wizards of mankind. But she was the greatest witch to have ever lived and she shrugged off the pressure without a hitch, standing tall even as some acromantulas keeled over.

A rock flew through the doorway, clattering to a stop just beyond the doorway. Daphne knew immediately without looking who had thrown it, instead simply waiting for his inevitably confusing reasoning.

"Had to check for traps okay." She heard Potter defend himself from the side, even as another rock landed farther into the chamber, "I've played enough Uncharted and Tomb Raider to be very aware that it is a possibility. And please, that platform is a boss arena if I've ever seen one."

"Shut up, Potter." Daphne said, striding forward and climbing through the entrance to stand in the chamber. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to a figure lying sprawled on the platform on the other side of the chamber, next to another array of pipe entrances.

"Ginny!" Longbottom shouted from beside her, the boy setting out into a sprint as he ran towards the prone girl. Daphne followed him much more cautiously ever cautious of her surroundings and with an eye on the acromantula behind her. Thankfully, Potter was still creeping around behind her, muttering to himself as he eyed ever stone with a gleeful trepidation. If they attacked, Potter would buy her enough time to retaliate.

"Is she alright?" Daphne asked, as she came to where Longbottom was kneeling over Weasley, apparently uncaring of the water seeping into his cloak, a discarded book lying on the floor next to him.

"She's alive." Longbottom replied as he dabbed a torn strip of cloth from his cloak on the girls head, "It looks like she hasn't lost too much blood, but I wish we still had a blood replenisher anyway."

"Potter." Daphne ordered, as she held out her hand towards the emerald-eyed boy, who's trepidation had all but disappeared as he looked at his surroundings curiously, "Blood replenisher."

"What makes you think I have any?" Potter retorted, raising his hands defensively, before Daphne stared him down into submission. They both knew he had one. After all, he was a –

"I'm not a hoarder." Potter rushed out, apparently following Daphne's line of thought even as he surrendered and stuck his hand deep in his pocket. The sound of glass clinking together, books falling and suspiciously, an old man cursing filled the air before Potter finally dug out a potion from his pocket, handing it over to her.

"Here." Daphne handed it over to Longbottom, who quickly opened it and poured it into Weasley's mouth. Daphne sighed in relief, with no sign of the basilisk and Weasley in their hands, they could now leave and let the Professors deal with it. She might be the greatest witch of all time, but even she needed time to grow into her power and fate. Her sister depended on it.

"No need to use the potion." A voice said from the side, causing Daphne to almost trip as she surged around to look at the source, "Like you said, she hasn't really lost much blood. I just had to make it seem like it had."

"There he is." Potter remarked.

A young man was leaning against the chamber wall in the corner. He seemed to be around 16 years old, well-groomed black hair, clean-shaven and pristine robes, Hogwarts robes, with Slytherin colours. And she had made sure to memorise every Slytherin.

"Who are you?" She spat as she aimed her wand at the unknown boy, already knowing that he wasn't good news. But what type of 16-year-old would sneak into Hogwarts and most importantly how did he know where the chamber was?

"Me?" The boy smiled, pushing off the wall and walking towards them, twirling a wand in his hands, "My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Tom?!" She heard Neville cough out from where he stood protectively in front of Weasley, "But you're-"

"A diary." Riddle smirked, standing a few metres away from them, in front of Slytherin's statue, "No. I'm not. But I'm not real either. At least not yet."

Daphne furrowed her brow, but Longbottom vocalised her thoughts before she could, "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I'm not real, Neville." Riddle answered, eyes flashing to behind her and the slight widening of his eyes clear enough to express his thoughts regarding the acromantula horde, "I'm merely a memory. A memory of a 16-year-old Tom Riddle, who implanted a piece of himself into this diary. A diary that you found, then Miss Ginevra found. And she did love telling me all about her problems. Her family's financial situation, her shame at the worn clothes she had to wear." The boy sneered, "Her crush on the boy-who-lived. It was pathetic really."

"Then why are you here, Tom?" Longbottom asked, even as his grip on his wand grew noticeably tighter, mirrored by Potter. Evidently, both were getting the same bad feeling she was, "Did you see the basilisk when it took Ginny?"

"Took Ginny?" Riddle quirked an eyebrow, before an understanding sigh left him, "No, you see Neville. The basilisk never took Riddle. In fact, it hasn't been out at all today. Ginny came here all by herself."

"What about the cloak, Riddle?" Daphne snapped, her anger rising as she struggled to understand what was happening here, "And the blood in the bathroom?"

"A simple sign, girl." Riddle responded, "A final warning to Dumbledore and all the mudbloods out there."

"So, you were behind it." Longbottom's hand clenched into a fist, "You were behind all the attacks and you framed Hagrid decades ago."

Daphne forced herself to not look at Longbottom, the revelation about the groundskeeper's true story being quite unexpected. Hagrid's story was well-known among the purebloods, for what would become of them if their wands were snapped.

"Yes." Riddle released a self-satisfied sigh, "And now, with little Ginny giving her life, I can be reborn in a new age. I simply wanted to see you, Longbottom, to see the boy who could supposedly best the greatest wizard in history as a mere baby."

"…Why?" Longbottom asked, "Why do all of this? I defeated Voldemort, yeah. But what is it to you?"

"Oh. It means much to me, Longbottom." Riddle snarled, wand waving in the air as he drew in the air. In flaming lines, the words TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE filled the air, before with a wave of a wand that set Daphne on edge, they rearranged into a new phrase, I AM LORD VOLDEMORT, "I am him after all."

Daphne physically stepped back as the new information slammed into her. Voldemort's real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle? But she had never heard of him, or of the name Riddle. Was he a…

"You're not a pureblood." Daphne gasped as she stared at the young man in a new light, trying to compare him to the few stories of the dark lord she had heard about.

Riddle scowled, hate settling into his frown as he snarled at her, "I'm a halfblood, girl. And now I think it's time for you to die." Stepping towards the statue, he laid his hands on the mouth of the statue, hissing intelligible words out that she had only heard twice before. Parseltongue.

The statue's mouth opened, and from the darkness she could hear something truly massive moving. A power filled the air, an aura of death and fear that tried to seep into her and paralyse her. But she staved it off, quickly closing her eyes as she backpedalled to create more distance from the statue's mouth.

A hiss filled the air as she heard something large drop onto the floor. The hiss reverberated around the air, even as Riddle's softer answer came, causing the basilisk to smash something against the wall and make the chamber shake.

"Watch out guys." Longbottom shouted from the side, "Riddle just ordered the basilisk to attack."

"Come my children!" She heard Aragog chitter from the side, "We must attack. We must take down the elite and create a worker's republic, one which the magical beasts' control! We must revolt, revolt for our rights!"

A wave of chittering roared in response as Daphne felt hairy legs brush past her, the scuttling of many acromantula echoing off the chamber walls. She continued her path backwards, free hand waving about in the air until she grasped something warm, something human.

"Greengrass!" She heard Potter shout, even as she drew closer to him, holding onto him for dear life. No matter how stupid he acted, Potter was strong and in situations like this, that was all that mattered, "Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes, Potter!" She screamed back, as she became aware she was standing in water, the liquid soaking her shoes, "Of course I have my eyes closed!"

"Good!" Potter sighed in relief, an act she decided to overlook, before the boy continued, "Don't worry. We just have to beat the first phase, then we'll probably be able to see again."

"What –" She started, but was cut off when something impacted them at high speed, causing her to fall to the floor in a daze, Potter still somehow holding onto her they fell. For a moment she lay there, trying to collect her thoughts, before her body screamed at her to move, even as Potter pulled her to the side.

Rolling over, she heard something large slam into the floor next to her. The impact being big enough to send her rolling a bit more through the shallow water. She sprang to her feet, ana act mirrored by Potter as they retreated away from the impact. However, barely a second later, the hairs on the back of her neck rose once again.

Without thinking, she thrust her hand to the side, a rush of magic flowing through her as she conjured a wall. A similar feeling of warmth from beside her told her that Potter had also cast something. Daphne tried to continue moving, but a sudden weakness overcame her, causing her to almost keel over for a second before she forced herself to continue going.

It wasn't enough though as she heard something crash through the wall and slam into both her and Potter, sending them flying a few feet away. Thankfully landing back on solid stone ground, she made to stand up once again, but before she could she suddenly heard a musical cry fill the air as a sudden warmth bloomed from the ceiling close to her.

"What!" She heard Riddle scream, rage clear in his voice, "What is Dumbledore's phoenix doing here?!"

The phoenix's cry filled her with strength as she stood, before the musical tone sped up, turning from one of support into one of anger in a flash. With a loud cry, she heard the bird whistling through the air until she heard the basilisk release an enraged and pain-filled hiss.

"No! You stupid chicken!" Riddle shouted from the side, before he switched to hissing. Fortunately, Longbottom was there to fill them in.

"Guys! Fawkes clawed out the basilisk's eyes." She heard Neville scream from afar, "We can open our eyes now." Accompanying his voice, an encouraging cry stemmed from the flying phoenix, pushing Daphne to trust the Gryffindor's words more. But she needed to open here eyes, otherwise she wouldn't be able to attack.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, expecting to look up and die almost immediately. However, a grin broke out when she looked upwards and stared the basilisk straight into its ruined eyes without issue. The basilisk was large, even larger than Daphne was expecting. Its head was larger than even Hagrid, with the feathers at the top alone already being as tall as her. Its eyes were bleeding green blood, with fresh scratches on its mouth and body as the acromantula threw themselves at the beast. Around the basilisk, dead and squashed spiders lay, whilst the basilisk seeming unaffected by their attack.

"Second phase time." Potter spoke from beside her, he seemed to be entranced even as he spoke by the basilisk before them. Sometimes Daphne really questioned his priorities. But she knew they had to do something to help the acromantula fast. Too many were dying and before long the acromantula would be defeated. And as much as Daphne was loath to admit it, they needed the acromantulas' help, even if only as distractions.

"You have any ideas on how to take it down. If not, you don't have a rooster anywhere nearby." She questioned, trying to create any plan to defeat the basilisk. She didn't want to rely on brute force if she could.

"No, to the second. Do have like a hundred turkey sandwiches though. They don't restore health though, so I should really throw them out." Potter seemed unaffected by her withering gaze, but thankfully moved on, "But I know someone who can help us come up with ideas."

Plunging his hand into his pocket, Potter quickly withdrew a piece of cloth, quite familiar cloth in the shape of a hat. A hat which was currently coughing violently. She gasped as she stared at it, "Is that…?"

"The sorting hat?" Potter quickly answered, grinning confidently, "Yes. I found it on the floor."

Unimpressed by the terrible lie, Daphne stared at him, before she let out a sigh, dragging her hand across her face, "Ok."

"Yes!" She heard Potter scream, his confident manner melting into an overjoyed one, "I have max persuasion and charisma!"

She spoke over him, "How exactly will the Sorting Hat help us?"

"Easy." Potter answered, donning the hat, "I wear it and it tells me what to do with the huge collection of knowledge and information it has. If anyone knows how to take down the basilisk, it would be the sorting hat."

"Take it easy boy." The sorting hat finally spoke, having finished coughing, "For one, you have too many things in that pocket and secondly, it'll take time to figure out the best way to kill the basilisk. I have to think."

"We don't have time." Daphne said, eyeing the ever-decreasing cluster of acromantula. More than half had died at this point. They had to take action quick.

"You two are a witch and wizard are you not?" The hat retorted from on Potter's head, "Make your own time." The hat then fell silent, its expression showing it was deep in thought.

Daphne froze as she stared at Potter, the boy smiling knowingly at her as she processed the words. Finally, new determination filled her. Yes. She was a witch and if the world didn't give her enough time. She would just take.

Meeting Potter's gaze, she gazed at him, silently communicating her thoughts, before he nodded in assent, his magic filling the air. Turning to face the writhing basilisk, the stared down at her hands, before she breathed in, collected her thoughts and willed.

Pressure slowly built up in her hands as she started moving forwards, running towards the fight. As a witch she should stay back, but her gut told her to move forward, where she would be in more danger yes. But where she could save more energy.

Running closes, the pressure built by the second, till finally it felt as if her hands were going to burst and she finally decided to release it. Grasping her wand with two hands, she sent the butt of it slamming into the ground, willing the power to lance towards the gigantic creature.

A wave of ice crashed towards the basilisk, a giant shard of ice piercing towards the snake. With the sound of tearing flesh, the shard broke the scale, embedding itself into the basilisk's gigantic mass. However, it didn't pierce deeply, the basilisk's flesh and scales to strong, until a pillar of earth rose from the ground, slamming the spike deeper into basilisk causing it to shriek in pain and writhe around. Good, Potter was keeping up.

Daphne and Potter ducked under the acromantula sent flying, the creatures flying over their head as both continued moving, splitting up. Daphne summoned her magic, aware of the ever growing darkness on the edge of her vision as she did so, sending a wave of fire to splash against an exposed part of the basilisk's skin.

The two wove and darted around the gigantic snake, keeping enough distance to be safe from any spontaneous movements as they relentlessly attacked the snake, trying to bring it down with many, small wounds. However, no matter what they did, the snake continued, killing acromantula after acromantula and frantically chasing after Daphne and Potter.

Twice so far, she had come within striking distance of the basilisk's gaping mouth, the gleaming white teeth filled with venom mocking her as if reminding her this was the end. Once she had blasted Aragog away from where the basilisk would have struck him, luckily saving the creatures life. If the acromantula deserted them, Daphne and Potter wouldn't last long.

After a few minutes, Daphne almost ran into Potter. Her vision starting to twist as she stumbled into the half-blood. She was tired, so very tired. She could barely summon enough energy to move her limbs and all she was running on was adrenaline.

"This isn't working." She croaked, trying to draw in enough air to fill her complaining lungs, but she noticed a missing feature on Potter, "Where's the hat?"

"It got hit away. Near where Neville's fighting Riddle." Potter answered, sending a bolt of lightning to hit the basilisk's ruined eye.

"He won't last forever." Daphne said, "Neither will we. We need to think of something new."

She frantically tried to look around for anything to help, only seeing the depleted acromantula and Fawkes attacking the basilisk from the above. To the side, Neville was distracting Riddle in a duel. One with a wand, one with a violin. However, she managed to catch the wildly smiling expression on Potter's face, sending a feeling of hope throughout her body, something she never thought Potter would be able to do.

"You have an idea."

Potter nodded, digging into his pocket "I do… But I won't be able to do it alone. I need you to help me. I need you to give me your magic."

"Give you my magic?" Daphne frowned in confusion, "For what?

Potter withdrew a white piece of plastic from his pocket, one she faintly recognised. What is that he called it. Cards Against Humanity? But what help would they be?

"Potter. What are you planning-" She asked, as they moved away to escape the approaching basilisk.

"Daphne." Potter cut in, the earnestness present in his expression stilling Daphne, that and him calling her name, "Do you trust me?"

Potter threw the card to the basilisk, making it stick to its scales, as Daphne looked at him critically. Did she trust him? Despite all her talk about him, Potter was truly a great wizard. Insane yes, but powerful. And based on Dumbledore's precedence, a truly powerful wizard was at least somewhat insane.

"Not really." She finally answered, looking him in the eyes, as he grasped her hand.

Potter grinned, "Good. I'd be disappointed if you did."

Then she felt the magic in him. He was pushing every single bit left inside him into a single point, where the magic was drained away. Daphne closed her eyes as she drank in the sensation of what was happening. In her mind's eye she could see the magic coursing through runes across Potter's back, where it all flowed to the centre of his stomach. Instinctually understanding, Daphne willed her own, pushing it into Potter's system.

The moment the two came into contact, she could feel the drain. Her magic was quickly siphoned away, as if devoured by some insatiable creature, feeding on her magic. She felt a third source join them, the same as them, but different. More wild, ancient and much more powerful.

Opening her eyes, she was unsurprised to see Fawkes perched on Potter's head. Around them, a whirlwind of magic had formed, golden in colour that seemed to form a bubble of protection around them. Looking at Potter, she met his emerald eyes, locking her gaze with his as they wiled their magic. Pushing it into the card, feeding it with energy until with a pop, she felt the spell activate.

The boy stared up at the tall man in front of him, tears welling in his eyes. It was his birthday and he had gotten lost from where his aunt had dropped him off at the library. He had found shelter under the nearest bus stop, looking out to the rain splattered streets, filled with unknown people.

"You okay there, bud?" The tall man asked in concern, crouching down to look the boy in the eyes, "Don't cry. Strong men don't cry."

"I… lost my family, Sir." The boy replied, looking down at his small hands, "I don't know where they are."

"That's fine." The man replied, patting the boy's shoulder, before he took something from his pocket, a small device with a screen, something that the boy recognised as something his cousin had gotten this year. What was it? A handheld console? Or something like that, but why give it to him, "Why don't you use this for a bit while I help look for your parents.

Hesitantly, the boy reached forward, grasping onto it, the tears slowly drying on his cheeks, "Thank you, Sir."

Collapsing to the floor, she laid next to Potter. Her vision almost completely dark. She struggled to raise her head, to look towards the basilisk, to see what had been done. Only to watch with awe as a bolt of lightning speared through a two-foot-tall mouse, causing the mouse to fall dead to the ground until it glowed and grew back into what it had once been. A gigantic basilisk, that now lay dead.

Then, safe in the knowledge of its death, she let the darkness overtake her and her head dropped back town to the ground.

Poppy POV

He was here. Dumbledore was here!

She stalked over to her office door, cracking it open slightly, the door not even creaking slightly in fear of her presence. Peaking through the crack, a grin spread unbidden across her face, her eyes twinkling with joy at the sight of Dumbledore approaching Potter's bead.

She prepared well for him. The moment Potter had entered her hospital wing, she had placed tranquilising charms on all the chairs, an automatic stunning charm on both sides of the bed and a lemon-drop repelling ward.

Her smile grew as Dumbledore walked forward; her eyes locked on his feet that were coming increasingly closer to the stunning spell traps. Three more steps, two more steps, one more step!

Her totally not rabid grin froze as Dumbledore stopped walking, just beyond where she had laid the trap. The old man bowed down curiously, studying the completely normal floor before her heart sunk as realisation struck the headmaster.

"Professor?" Hope once again filled her as she heard Potter speak. Now Dumbledore would have to approach, but then she scowled at the boy's next words, "Did Madam Pomfrey do something again?"

"Please." Dumbledore winced, "Do not say her name. Names have power and she must not know I have here. Excuse me for a moment, Harry."

She felt the familiar wave of magic flow over her as the headmaster cast a homenum revelio, undoubtedly searching for her. But he was a fool. For all of Dumbledore's knowledge, he would never be able to find her. Hogwarts was her castle and Dumbledore would learn the folly of trying to hide from her.

"Is she here?" She heard Potter ask quietly, as if afraid to break the fragile silence.

"No, Harry." Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief, "No she is not?"

"Does that mean?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Harry."

Her eye twitched as she once again heard the crackling of wrapping paper. She had thought Dumbledore had learned, but not it seemed it had to be drilled in his skull. Flicking her wand slightly, one of the windows burst open, the howl of the night bursting in and rattling all the windows.

Dumbledore and Potter jumped, causing her to smile in satisfaction and as their gazes were locked on the open window, she dove to hide behind a divider closer to the two, wand in one hand, tor- healing device in the other.

"… Are you sure we're alone, sir?" Potter asked, eyeing the window warily.

"I cast the spell myself, Harry."

"I see."

"But back to more pertinent issues." Dumbledore continued, but despite his words she could hear the faint wavering of uncertainty in his voice, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired sir." Potter responded, "Very tired sir."

Another flick of her wand made the doors clatter open, sending them banging into the walls and making the two jump whilst Poppy ducked behind another bed, coming closer and closer to her target.

"… That is to be unexpected." Dumbledore continued, holding his wand in hand as he eyed the doors warily, his body in a defensive position, "You utilised a great amount of will magic after all."

"You know about it?" She heard Potter ask, even as she raised an eyebrow. Potter knew will magic. That was impressive.

"I do know about it, Harry." Dumbledore replied, "Not many do, but most powerful and old witches and wizards do."

"Why don't they use it then Sir? It's so powerful and you can do so much more with it than normal magic."

With another flick, she jumped to be only two beds away from the two, all the candles momentarily flicking out as a cold breeze flew over the room. When the lights flashed back on, she was greeted with the sight of Dumbledore crouching next to Potter, somehow not setting off any of her traps. To make it perfect, however, his back was towards her.

"Ahem." Dumbledore coughed, standing back to his full height, but clearly coiled to spring at any moment, "Yes. We don't use it because of the danger in it."

"Danger?"

"Yes. Will magic is inherently dangerous."

"How?"

"Well." Dumbledore finally seemed to relax, as he lowered his wand by a fraction, "That is due to the history of magic itself. Think of magic as a person and two thousand years ago it was like a newborn. For a wizard to cast a spell, we must convey to magic what it is we wish and it will listen. But in the beginning, Magic could not understand, after all, it did not need to speak our language, magic spoke through intent."

"And we used will magic?" Potter said excitedly, "And then we forgot it."

"No, we didn't forget, Harry." Dumbledore shook his head, "Will magic was dangerous. Through it you directly spoke to magic, you linked yourself to it and if you spent too much you would die. Even the most simple spells of will magic drain the user, which is why it is so interesting that you and Ms Greengrass can wield so much of it and how you both managed to use that ingenious card of yours to transform the basilisk into a mouse."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "That is why, when magic started learning our language, started learning how to speak it and understand it, we switched to word magic. For using it, we could tell magic exactly what we wanted, we could mold our innate power into the perfect tool, without the danger of using too much."

Poppy shook her head to clear her thoughts as she realised she had been listening to Dumbledore speak. Despite his faults, the man knew much, in some areas he knew far beyond she would ever know. But she couldn't be distracted now. This was her opportunity. But she had to do something to attract their attention once again.

"Are you telling me to stop using it?" Potter asked and even through the two dividers she could see the stubbornness in his stature.

Momentarily, Poppy was stunned as an ethereal shriek filled the air, reverberating around the room and attacking her ears. But she quickly recovered and took the opportunity, appearing behind the divider, just behind where Dumbledore stood.

Looking to the side, she smiled in satisfaction at the small nod she received from an apparently awake Daphne Greengrass, who was in the bed next to an insane Lockhart who had to be tied down whilst he murmured about manuals and protecting him from the variant. Turning to look back at Dumbledore, she could see his shadow cowering against the divider, bright red light emanating from his wand.

She stood up against the divider and watched in satisfaction as Potter froze when he looked at the divider. She could make the dividers transparent just to herself, a tactic used to catch many unwary students and now to catch a headmaster.

"Sir."

"Yes, Harry?" She heard Dumbledore ask, his quick breathing starting to slow.

Potter raised a finger to point straight at her, fear filling his eyes, "Is that Madam Pomfrey's shadow?"

She smirked as the headmaster turned to look at her, slowly as if afraid to set off a trap, but the trap had already been sprung. He would not be able to run from her again. She met his eyes through the divider, knowing all he could see was a ominous shadow.

"Why, yes Harry. I do believe it is."

The divider split apart, revealing the fear-stricken headmaster as she stared down at him, daring him to run, lifting up her secret weapon into the air.

"Blood test time, Albus." She smiled, holding the short, foot long needle in her hand. She could do this with magic and for everyone else she did. But Albus deserved more special treatment.

Then walking forward, she smiled as the screams of an old man and a young boy filled the air. One begging for mercy and the other begging for horror games to never be invented. Only one thing broke through.

"Madam Pomfrey." Daphne Greengrass's smile could be heard through her voice, "Can I try that out on Potter."

Favourite POV: Pomfrey

Favourite Moment: Pomfrey and Dumbledore's fated meeting

Well, here's another chapter. Wrote the first half over three months, the second half in a day. Overall, took about a year. Now that's productivity. I want to thank the people who still read this story despite its lack of any reason to exist as you guys drove me to finish this chapter.

Don't worry though. Endless Possibilities will be finished. We're pretty much halfway. My plan is 2 chapters for third year and maybe 3 for fourth year. I don't really plan this stuff out, like to be honest, only reason Ron got a POV was because I felt like making a few puns.

But overall, I hoped you enjoyed and stay tuned. I'm rewriting my other story, so next chapter will come when it comes. But I promise, it will involve the republic and it's struggles against the elite.

Almost forgot, none of this represents my political ideology and to be honest, I just wanted to make the spiders communist.

Farvel.