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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

As always for Sable and Lais xxx


Tuesday, 22nd May, 1979

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Scotland

"Be careful," Remus had whispered against the shell of her ear earlier when he pulled her into a tight embrace as they bid each other farewell.

"You too," She had uttered in response, trying to still her ever racing heart as she thought about what could happen today, all the things that could and if given the chance, would, go wrong.

Their current location does not inspire confidence for their missions' success.

It's rather quiet despite the fact that there are five wix in the Headmaster's office—Dumbledore looks rather smug, not even attempting to hide it.

Their plan is rather well thought out, but there is one hitch. Access. In order to get where they need to go, they need the old man's permission to be on school grounds; they are in his sandbox now and he is enjoying having a monopoly on the real estate.

"Why should I let you roam the grounds without supervision, especially since you refuse to enlighten me on your purpose and what you intend to do," Dumbledore asks, leaning back in his plush chair, slightly sinking into its' comfy embrace, looking like he'd just shat on the desk and expected them to clean it up.

"Because it's for your greater good," Dorea replies primly; she is the only other person sitting—directly across from Dumbledore, his large desk the only thing separating them—with the rest of her company standing behind her, watching the proceedings with great caution.

Sirius looks antsy, but Hermione knows that's because of what they have planned, or the fact that his two best mates are walking into a possible ambush as they speak and he isn't there with them. Hermione studies his tense posture, the rigid way he's holding himself and concludes that it is probably a healthy heaping of both.

Hermione understands how he's feeling all too well—she's just as on edge. She can only hope that they don't walk straight into a trap, that James, her wizard and her best mate will be okay. She can only hope that no one gets hurt.

Dumbledore had been silent, pondering Dorea's curt statement and then curiously glancing around at the lot of them. He sat forward, fingers lacing together as he rested them on his desk, putting his weight on his forearms. "Elaborate. I'm going to need just a few more details," Dumbledore says calmly.

Dorea raises an eyebrow, "no."

"What would you do if I came to your door, and told you that I need to go snooping around your home for 'the greater good'?" Dumbledore asks, pausing for a brief moment before continuing and answering his own query. "I can almost guarantee that you would tell me to piss off."

"Your point?" Dorea asks with a tight smile, she knows where he's going and she can sense that the old coot won't let them go about their business without something.

"That that is exactly what you are requesting of me, my dear," Dumbledore says, leaning back once more, hands now resting in his lap, the twinkle in his eye glinting as he smiles serenely at them all.

Hermione can sense that Dorea is about to jump across the desk and throttle the Headmaster, so she decides that it may be time to end this stalemate.

Hermione takes a step forward and the movement catches Dumbledore's eye, he turns to look at her, head cocked in anticipation.

"We need to borrow Fawkes, and we can't tell you why, but it'll bring us a step closer to defeating Tom Riddle."


Drip, drip, drip.

"We can always turn back," Harry whispers, his voice bouncing off of the tiled walls.

No one says anything, and Hermione inhales deeply, reaching up to gently stroke the smooth feathers of the Phoenix perched on her shoulder. The bird makes a low vibrato like sound in its throat as it rubs its' beak against Hermione's cheek.

Sirius breaks the silence. "We did not just sit in an office with that smug bastard so that can turn back. I say we just do it."

Harry frowns profusely, his mouth opens as if to say something, but it just as quickly closes.

"You didn't show us any memories from your second year...that's when the chamber was reopened wasn't it?" Dorea asks, closing the distance between her and the row of sinks, a slender finger moving to run along the rim of one of the porcelain sinks. She purses her lips as she turns around to look Harry directly in the eye, "why not?"

"It...it was when we weren't sure how much we wanted to reveal. If we showed you that...then you would've asked questions, questions we weren't prepared to answer," Hermione interjects.

"Harry." Dorea says pointedly, hands now on her hips, grey eyes stern and sturdy as steel. She is pressing them for more details.

Harry swallows thickly and shrugs, "it wasn't really relevant...or pleasant. I didn't think I'd ever have to deal with it again."

Neither of them have mentioned that Hermione was petrified by the beast in their second year.

Hermione moves closer to Harry, fingers lacing through his, he angles his head in her direction and shoots her a sad smile.

"This time you won't be doing it alone," Hermione murmurs, tightening her grip on Harry.

Harry merely nods in response.

Sirius is anxiously shifting from foot to foot beside Dorea, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

A random thought pops into Hermione's head, the only one of us that's not out on a perilous expedition today is Lily...though she does have Emmeline to keep her company.

Lily had been exhausted that morning, saying that lethargy was pumping through her body, spreading throughout her body, making all of her limbs feel extremely heavy.

Hermione looks around at her three companions once more, nodding curtly with her mouth contorted into a grimace.

They are all facing the sink directly in front of Moaning Myrtle's toilet stall—however the ghost is strangely silent, not uttering a peep.

Dorea is closest to the sink, leaning in to peer at the tiny snake that is scratched into the side of one of the copper pipes. She frowns as she traces her fingers across the surface. The witch steps back—brow still furrowed—and looks expectantly at Harry.

Hermione looks forward as the hissing sounds start smoothly sliding out of Harry's mouth, it is the only sound in the bathroom—aside from one leaky pipe at the end of the row that's been drip, drip, dripping since they got here.

The tap glows with a brilliant white light and begins to spin, next thing they know, the sink begins to move; it sinks out of sight and leaves a large pipe exposed—wide enough for a man to slide into.

Through the silence comes a tiny wet sob, which soon gets louder and louder—it's coming from directly behind them. "Stop it...st-stop it. STOP IT."

Hermione flinches harshly, stumbling backwards when Myrtle appears out of nowhere and flies straight towards them, stopping right in front of Harry.

"You've come to kill more MUDBLOODS haven't you?!" Myrtle cries loudly, but then the resentment on her face melts into confusion and she crinkles up her nose.

"I don't recognise you…" Myrtle trails off, clutching herself tightly.

"Hi Myrtle...it's been a while…" Harry smiles sadly.

The anger flares to life on her face, "so it was-"

"No. It wasn't…that, was, um, it was Tom Riddle," Hermione supplies, gently pushing Harry to the side and meeting Myrtle's eye.

Myrtle narrows her eyes into slits, letting out a soft whimper, "that's a shame...he was such a pretty boy that Tom Riddle...fine, it's your funeral...and when you die you can't share my toilet." She harrumphs and sadly floats above them, returning to her stall. Her wails echo and rebound all around them.

Dorea shakes her head before bravely striding forward until she's standing in the opening to the Chamber—perched right on the edge of the abyss, and she inhales deeply. A pregnant pause and then she sits down with her feet dangling in the pipe, she looks back at all of them before pushing herself forward and in the blink of an eye, she's gone; her raven hair flying upwards and it's the last thing Hermione sees before the darkness swallows the Potter Matriarch whole.

Sirius is next up, peeking over his shoulder and giving them a bright and cheeky smile, and in one swift movement he is hanging from the edge of the pipe and then he too disappears into the opaque darkness.

As opposed to Dorea who had been silent as a grave on her way down, Sirius's cheers enthusiastically fly out behind him.

Harry lets go of Hermione's hand and takes a step forward. At that same moment Fawkes lets out a squawk—startling Hermione and she can hear it ringing in her eardrum as the bird takes off of her shoulder and gracefully glides around Harry and straight into the hole.

Harry takes one final look at Hermione over his shoulder, and sends her an anxious smile before disappearing down the pipe like the others.

Hermione breathes in deeply, and walks forward, exhaling once she reaches the pipe.

She lowers herself into the pipe, and begins to panic slightly. It could have killed her, it almost did. If she hadn't walked around with that mirror…

A shiver runs down her spine and she closes her eyes, focusing on breathing in and out deeply. Hermione swallows thickly, her fingers digging into the cold metal of the pipe, and then she simply lets go. She lets go, taking the leap she was incapable of doing all those years ago, because of what awaited them at the bottom, and with that she disappears straight into the belly of the beast.