A/N: This bloody chapter has been refusing to be written for a few months I think it is now, and I've had enough. Most of my plans are for after Hogwarts (the point at which I can have a proper Holmes and Moriarty) so from here on out, I'm going to be majorly rushing and condensing the school years. This will include binning various sub-plots and smaller ideas, which include extra stuff I was going to work in based on sexism as well as homophobia and Jasmine/Hermione facing adversity due to it, and a bunch of stuff relating to Luna (I love her, but she is goddamned difficult to write ). I may end up doing a year every one or two chapters from here; I just want to get Hogwarts years over and done with. Note, to read this plenty of things from the books are taken as read unless contradicted otherwise.
EDIT 21/01/16: Gone back and made a few edits here and there - nothing more than a few words and typos mainly, nothing major.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Chapter 6
"Well, we can rule out a dragon for starters," Hermione said confidently, shifting books around on the library table. "They only live for a century maximum, so unless there's a full clutch down there breeding away, they can't be what we're looking for."
"Good, at least we know it isn't a fire-breathing monster," Nadia added with a tinge of relief.
"Don't count your blessings yet, it could still be a naga, or a hydra, or something else from mythology," Jasmine stated.
"True, but looking through all the known species, I'm certain we can rule out dragons. That's something, at least," Hermione defended herself. "Anyway, have you got anywhere with trying to trace the heir?"
"No, only dead ends," the ravenette replied after a moment, keeping her face carefully schooled. She was glad Hermione was facing away from her, or the girl might have picked something up. "I'm thinking of turning to the school population at-large, and just eliminating those who are impossible."
"What? Go through a list of everyone in school? That hardly sounds efficient," the bushy haired Gryffindor turned around with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, I've only been hitting dead ends as far as the heir is concerned, I don't have many options left. I would consider looking for the chamber itself, but even I recognise that I'm unlikely to be capable of working it out after scores of heads of school haven't," Jasmine replied.
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"Borgin and Burkes is the most important one," Jasmine pointed to the named shop on the map of Knockturn, "and one of the most well-known. We get them, and the rest will fall into line. The ones that don't, well, I'm sure Mr Greyback and his men can either get them to comply or remove them from the equation." She drew back up to leaning on the table, her two seconds across from her.
"We could try taking a few of the easier ones first, might make old man Borgin more likely to be persuaded," Scabior suggested.
"We need to be subtle," Jasmine replied, "build it up slowly so people don't realise how much we're taking over."
"Does our Employer have anything to say?" Greyback directed the question at her, deliberately using the same term she had a tendency to.
"He merely ordered that we get it done, so I daresay we should try not to disappoint him," she answered drily.
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"Colin Creevey," Hermione stated as she came up behind Jasmine, while the ravenette was sitting on 'their' windowsill. "He was brought into the infirmary late last night – petrified, just the same as Mrs Norris. The film from his camera apparently burst into flame."
"Sabotage of the footage?" Jasmine inquired.
"Perhaps, if the heir is directly ordering the monster around," the girl replied.
"But he was still petrified…" Jasmine trailed off, her book lying closed and forgotten as she considered something new. "Frozen, unable to move. Not unlike being turned to stone. And what mythical being could do that, perhaps one with snakes for hair?"
"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed, "The gorgons!"
"Medusa, technically," the ravenette corrected, "her two sisters couldn't turn anyone to stone, although they still looked much the same."
"I take back anything I said about myths and legends not being useful," the Gryffindor said drily, "come on, we can look up any magical roots in the library."
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"This says the legends around the gorgons are based on the then queen of the Lamia; Medusa II," Jasmine read out. "The myths originate from their people killing off those who would trespass on their island, which was accessed through a cave on the seaside by magic. They still live on this island hidden off the coast of Sicily to this day; a largely insular but peaceful society, and not one fond of humans."
"Anything about petrification?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"Nothing," the ravenette replied with a sense of frustration, slamming the book back down upon the table. "And what's more, they're sentient beings, and only about as short lived as humans. So they could neither survive in the chamber for centuries, nor would they take commands, nor are they monsters, and they cannot petrify people. Another dead end. I'm really starting to get annoyed by hearing that."
Of course, what she didn't mention was the information she'd found saying that the Slytherin bloodline still existed – running in her own veins – and that she had heard a voice the night before, slightly high-pitched and audibly hiss-like saying 'Kill, kill,' etcetera. Things just didn't add up about that, since she obviously wasn't controlling the monster, and she wasn't idiot enough to reveal to the school at large that she was Slytherin's heir, or even to Hermione. She couldn't risk the Gryffindor snooping into her life much, she might find out about Moriarty, and that would be disastrous.
"Alright, it's time for plan B then," said Gryffindor declared.
"Hermione, are you sure that's a good idea?" Nadia inquired doubtfully, "even getting ahold of the ingredients."
"What?" Jasmine asked confusedly, off-kilter at the reveal of a plan she knew nothing of.
"We got to thinking last night that the Slytherins must know something, and the heir must be among their number," Hermione explained, "so, we thought on ways to infiltrate them and gain information. We surmised that polyjuice potion could be the solution." Jasmine raised her eyebrow at the name of the brew; it was easily a sixth year potion, and for the most part was banned because of how it could be abused – she should know, after all she paid for the doses of polyjuice in some of the more illegal sections of her brothel where heavily paying customers could have their way with their idols. It was slightly disturbing how much she herself was on request, but of course she wasn't averse to gaining no small amount of money for what amounted to simply removing a hair from her head, even if the whole thing was distasteful in the extreme. "Of course, the downside is it takes a month to brew."
"You're quite nonchalant about doing this, you know," the Ravenclaw said with a slight hint of amusement – the perfect bookworm of Gryffindor leaving the angel's path and breaking many rules, even laws. Not that she didn't approve, of course, she was in-fact in favour of the girl coming more around to her way of thinking one step at a time. "Are you aware of what happens if we are caught?"
"I can probably pass off brewing it as academic interest to study the effects," the bushy-haired girl waved her off, "either way, are you in?" The expectant look in those blue eyes made her smile while nodding her head once.
"If you can get the potion brewed, I suppose so," it might even give her some information that she hadn't got from the grape-vine. "However, like you said; a month to brew. Since identifying the heir seems to be fruitless, I'm going to have a look at records from 1943 and try to determine what happened last time."
"That's a good idea, now, if you'll excuse me, we've got potions next, and I'm going to need to cook up a distraction so I can sneak into Snape's store-room," the Gryffindor stood.
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"How did you even get those?" Nadia inquired as Jasmine held up two golden and brown hairs between her fingers.
"Trade secrets," she replied, handing the brunette one over to the girl, while keeping the blonde for her own, "and I know both Davis and Greengrass will be occupied in their study sessions with a few Ravenclaws for the next hour and a half."
"More subtle than me; I just gave Bulstrode a sleeping and forgetfulness draft and shoved her in a cupboard," Hermione stated, holding her own black strand before dunking it in her bubbling glass of liquid. The brown sludge turned muddier quickly, taking on a mossy tinge. Adding their own, Nadia ended up with a coal-black slime, and Jasmine's turned a disconcertingly bloody and viscous red, madly bubbling.
She supposed that it fit their various personalities; Greengrass was an ambitious manipulator, looking for a rich, powerful and easy to control husband through which she could access politics, hence succubus red; Davis was the half-blood on the outside of the snake pit's social circles, befriending only Daphne, and was the one most likely to learn dark magic and be like Snape in their year; and Millicent was just a bit thick presumably.
"Bottoms up," Nadia declared, necking her glass of slime. Jasmine briefly glanced down at her own brew, before deciding to get it over with and tipping it down her throat.
At first taste, it was the most disgusting thing to have ever entered her mouth. It burned like mad on contact with her soft flesh, and was flavoured like spoiled eggs and bad wine, with a hint of the same bloody, coppery tang that its colour would have suggested. A clattering smash was heard as the ravenette realised she had dropped her glass as she gasped for air, doubling over with her eyes bulging out and her stomach churning.
Two more smashes of breaking glass and hacking indicated she wasn't alone.
"I think I'm going to be sick," two voices declared at the same time, and Jasmine just turned in time to see two sets of red-trimmed robes enter toilet stalls.
Turning in front of her, she stumbled to the basins, desperate for water to wash the awful taste out of her mouth. She froze, however, as she regarded the mirror in which she was reflected, her skin bubbling and flowing like melting wax.
Her features quickly became less sharp and pale, rosy cheeks and full lips forming. Her height increased a little, making the seams on her uniform protest at the sudden unexpected pressure, and her body became visibly a bit fuller rather than lithe as Jasmine was. Finally, in a ripple her hair changed from black to blonde, perfectly shaped and touching her shoulders.
With a hesitant hand, she pressed fingers to her face – not even noticing the aftertaste was gone – as teal eyes stared back at her from the silvered surface. She knew what polyjuice potion did in theory, but to actually experience it was beyond disconcerting.
She was distracted as a door slammed open from the toilets behind her, and she spun to see Tracy Davis walk past her, brown eyes focused on the mirror in the bathroom.
"Bloody Merlin," Nadia said in Tracy's voice.
"Bit of a kick to it," Jasmine replied with her own haughty tone. She was well used to playing a pureblood aristocrat, so this should be a doddle.
"You can say that again," the girl all but whispered, touching her face in much the same way she had done.
"How about you, Hermione?" Jasmine called, facing the cubicles again, "how does it feel to be Millicent Bulstrode?"
"It feels…big," came the reply, and the girl walked out of her own toilet. Indeed, Bulstrode was meaty and thick-built, very much straining Hermione's robes. There was little wonder why she was oft compared to Crabbe and Goyle. "And my hair's all short."
"Well, it was either her or Pansy Parkinson, and do you really want to have to fawn over your dear Draky-poo?" Nadia replied with a smile, looking downright evil on Tracy's face.
"Merlin, no," the girl said with a shiver.
"Well, then," Jasmine declared as she waved her wand, casting a glamour to turn her blue trim green, "shall we go break some more school rules?"
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"I did tell you," Jasmine stated as the threesome moved in an old classroom near the dungeons already removing the glamours on her robes as the polyjuice fully wore off, "Malfoy just isn't capable of it. Not yet at least."
"Yes, alright, I misjudged," Nadia admitted, throwing her hands in the air, "but even you admitted it was likely to be someone in Slytherin."
"Likely, but not definite," the ravenette replied, "however, we can be fairly sure after observing so many members of the house, and their speculation, that the heir is either not a Slytherin, or a good enough actor to fool bot-all of us." Jasmine quickly corrected herself; Hermione didn't like her insulting Nadia to her face. "So, we have eliminated the impossible."
"And whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," Hermione completed, "the heir is in one of the other houses."
"Most likely, yes. Which also means they're good at hiding or above suspicion."
"Thoughts?"
"Most likely Ravenclaw or Gryffindor," Jasmine stated bluntly.
"Mm, I can see Ravenclaw; small groups of tight-knitted persons, lots of loners, easy to be unnoticeable as everyone keeps to themselves," Hermione pondered.
"And Gryffindors are easy to radicalise if in the right light," Jasmine added, "you must have noticed how many of the 'light' families still look down upon squibs and muggles, and are incredibly dismissive of muggle culture; just look at the supposed 'experts' of Arthur Weasley and Charity Burbage. If you tried to tell them people set foot on the Moon with technology, they'd laugh."
"Wait, what?" Nadia butted in with wide eyes, "the Moon?"
"On July 20th, 1969, the Apollo 11 spacecraft landed on the Moon, with three men aboard. In the following three years, five more expeditions landed on the Moon," Jasmine rattled off, "muggles have been going into Space for decades, and they're currently working on manned missions to Mars, and the possibilities of establishing a colony there. I believe the Ares group plan to send the first expedition to land in 2035."
"They did that without magic," Nadia stated, evidently gobsmacked. Both Jasmine and Hermione sighed, the former looking to the stony ceiling for a moment before replying.
"Yes, and a dozen things more besides," Jasmine stated somewhat exasperatedly, "they have certainly advanced far more than wizards in the last few centuries."
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"What do you want? Here to throw another book at my head?" the spectre screeched, "Oh, let's all throw books at Myrtle because she can't feel it! Five points if it goes through her stomach, ten points if it goes through her head!" She emphasised her exclamations by punching ghostly fists through Jasmine, creating a cold, clammy feeling where she touched.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," the ravenette replied curtly, "why would anyone throw books at you, anyway?"
"How should I know?" Myrtle yelled before floating angrily away towards the toilet stalls.
"Miss Warren," Jasmine exclaimed as the girl was halfway phased through the white door. The flinch as she stilled was easily visible, practically jerking her shoulders up.
"What did you say?" she replied quietly, a quiver in her voice.
"Myrtle Elisabeth Warren, that is your name isn't it?"
"How do you know that name?" Myrtle demanded, in a voice barely above a whisper, slowly turning around in mid-air with wide eyes behind her round glasses.
"Myrtle Elisabeth Warren, born 18th of August 1929, died 13th of June 1943," Jasmine placed a hand upon her hip, eyeing the ghost speculatively.
"No-one," the everlasting teenager said hoarsely, "has called me that in a very long time."
"Well you don't talk to many people," Jasmine replied. "I'm here to ask about when you died."
"Why do you want to know?" the girl asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Have you not being paying attention to the events in the castle? The petrifications? Didn't the same thing happen in the months leading to your death?"
"I don't know," the girl said petulantly, making the ravenette frown, "don't you know anything about ghosts? Most of our lives fade from memory; we're shades of who we were. Only personality and important memories stay…" the latter part was said in a more normal, morose tone for the melancholy spectre.
"Right," the one living person in the room massaged her temples, "that's annoying. Though I'd assume your death would be an important memory."
"Oh yes, I remember that," Myrtle said eagerly, "it was awful." For a traumatic event, she sounded delighted to talk about it. "It happened over there, in that cubicle," she pointed to one of the green painted toilet stalls, "I was in there crying after that bitch Olive Horny had been mocking me about my glasses, when I heard someone come in. They started speaking in some silly made-up language and I realised it sounded like a boy. I opened the door to tell him to go away, and then…I died." Strange language most likely meant Parseltongue, confirming that theory, but wasn't there more than that?
"That's it?" Jasmine asked.
"All the rest I remember is seeing a pair of big, yellow eyes," the girl said, looking into the middle distance.
"Well thanks, that's a real bloody help," the ravenette said scathingly, "a pair of big eyes, and the sound of a boy. Well that narrows things down to half the population of the school and just about any creature." She had been looking for something useful; a week ago, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick had been petrified, the numbers were racking up.
The ghost scowled, and made a wailing sound as she fled, slamming back into a toilet with an eruption of water. Jasmine only just backed away in time to avoid being drenched, instead standing to the side as a small black tome floated its way over on the deluge. With a frown of curiosity, she picked it up, taking in the unmarked worn leather and slightly yellowed pages. With a hint of interest, she flipped the front page over to see written: 'Property of Tom Riddle' in neat cursive script.
Tom Riddle…
Where did she know that name? A brief search of her mental library produced a volume entitled 'Hogwarts Graduating Class: 1944' and flipping through a pair of pages in showed the head-boy: Tom Riddle.
Interesting.
If this was his, what, diary perhaps? It may contain information on the events of the last time the Chamber was opened, when this boy was in sixth year. Flicking through the pages produced a frown on her face, however, as each and every one was blank. Assuming that perhaps the entries were hidden – not exactly unlikely on something as personal as a diary – she pocketed the book, and stalked from the room. At least she'd gained some information from this little event.
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"Hm," exclaimed Jasmine as she stared at the obstinate book. She was ensconced in one of Hogwarts' many unused classrooms, facing the desk upon which the black tome rested open at the first blank page. Every revealing spell she had found, and things like 'finite incantatum' were doing nothing. A few other spells denoted the book to definitely be enchanted to some degree, as it had a large amount of ambient magic centred around it.
With a brief moment of inspiration, she cast a lesser-known charm for detecting blood magic she had discovered in one of her books from Mr Borgin, frowning as it failed to give a positive result.
With an annoyed harrumph, she stuck her holly wand back up her sleeve into its holster, staring once more at the blank pages. Her eyes widened as black ink slowly spread across the top of the page, and she leaned over to read it;
'Are you quite finished?' it read in green ink and the same neat script from the nametag, before vanishing a few moments later. Frowning, she reached into her bag and withdrew an inkpot and her raven-feather quill.
'Depends,' she wrote out, watching as a few seconds later the word vanished and was replaced.
'Upon what, exactly?'
What the hell was this? Was she communicating with someone else via two books that showed what was written in the other? Or could she be communicating with the book itself…
She'd never heard of such a thing, but with magic practically anything was possible.
'Whether you're going to divulge the information I require,' she replied.
'Well, that depends.' She practically groaned aloud at the response, clearly a dig at her own previous words.
'Upon what, exactly?' she repeated his own line back to him.
'Who you are, and what you want to know.'
'My name is unimportant, but yours is Tom Marvolo Riddle, correct?' She took the fact the ink didn't instantly disappear as the book thinking, 'you were head-boy of the 1944 class at Hogwarts.'
'Yes I am and was,' Tom eventually replied, and didn't Jasmine feel weird thinking of a book by a name.
'Then I wish to know of the events of your sixth year. Can you tell me anything about the Chamber of Secrets?'
'No,' flashed onto the page and Jasmine's heart sank at the idea of another false lead before seeing the rest, 'but I can show you.'
And with that, a slamming force overcame her unprepared occlumency barriers and the ravenette felt a tugging sensation in her mind.
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"Well, that was interesting," Jasmine said aloud as she picked her head up off the desk from where she had slumped in the little memory dump, glad to see colour properly once again rather than the bleached look of Riddle's memories, during which she had not said a word, merely observing.
And she had certainly learnt a lot.
With a careful eye, she gazed back down at the innocent looking book, before picking her quill up once more.
'I'll confess, I had wondered why Hagrid was expelled,' she wrote.
'Nothing was ever proven, since the monster escaped, but his wand was snapped and he likely would have gone to Azkaban had Dumbledore not taken him on as groundskeeper.'
'Yes, he was the only one who doubted your lies.' Riddle remained very 'silent' after that before eventually speaking again.
'Pardon?'
'I would appreciate if you didn't take me for a fool; the monster of the Chamber of Secrets is no spider, and your body posture made it obvious that you were intentionally lying at points.' Jasmine wrote out, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction at this discovery, and decided to test him with a deduction; 'you were the heir of Slytherin.' All of a sudden, once more a probe slammed its way into Jasmine's head, but this time she was more prepared. Her outer defences crumbled of course, but as soon as he tried to press further – instead of simply pushing his memory through as the previous time – he encountered problems. Closing her eyes, the ravenette moved to confront him.
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"Hello Tom," she stated calmly, watching as the teen in Hogwarts robes spun to see her leaning against a wall in her own.
"What is this?" he demanded, spinning around at what looked distinctly like the entrance hall of Hogwarts.
"My mindscape, welcome!" she spread her arms, "congratulations, you're inside my head, now what do you do?" With anger, he stepped over towards her to attack her. She simply rolled her eyes and caught his fist as he swung it, tipping forwards to break it, and making him elicit a bark of pain. "Oh quiet down, it's an imaginary break with a few of my own memories of the pain, not that you even have any real limbs to harm. Which actually leads on to the question of just what are you? You actually seem capable of conversation, showing me memories, and now invading my mind, that's a bit beyond the norm for an inanimate object."
"I am going to break you, girl," he growled out.
"No, you're going to leave," the joviality left her tone, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on a pair of suits of armour walking from their pedestals to grab Riddle by his arms. With a further flick of her hand, the great front doors of Hogwarts opened to display a dazzling whiteness beyond.
"How are you doing this?" shouted Riddle as he was frogmarched to the entryway.
"Visualisation and ordering of one's own mind. Here, I can do whatever I wish, and you don't have the time needed to figure your way around things," she replied, mentally moving the armour to boot him out, his body disappearing once it hit the ethereal exit.
Shaking her mental head, she withdrew from her mindscape and concentrated on her real body once more.
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The black book sat innocently before her once more as she opened her eyes. With a smirk, she flicked out her wand, and transfigured the wooden desk it rested upon into a box around it, which she then proceeded to lay locking charm upon locking charm upon.
"There, I think that'll do until I can carve some warding runes on you," she muttered, picking up the box. "At least until I can work out just what you are."
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"Well that's intriguing," Jasmine muttered as she looked over the listings of profit and customers at Madame Rosa's, "a few ministry officials. Any regulars?"
"A couple," the Brothel Madam replied, touching her finger to some of the names on the list, "there's a few notes there for potential blackmail material as well."
"Very good," the ravenette said with a smile, "I think now would be a good time to start ensnaring a few customers with certain substances, get them addicted to the muggle drugs we're the only ones supplying. I'll talk to Scabior about supply."
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"Sir?" the dark skinned professor looked up in surprise at her call, clearly not expecting to see the three girls staying behind.
"Now girls, you're not supposed to be apart from everyone else. With all the goings on recently, it's for your own protection," the man admonished. "with all the recent petrifications, and Dumbledore leaving, it's best to not take chances." He was right to an extent; both Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick being attacked had riled things up. That the monster could affect even a ghost had scared plenty of the pupils, not to mention the staff. Of course, Jasmine had mixed feelings about seeing the old meddler leave. Granted, she hated him, but she had to admit he was the most likely to be capable of dealing with the monster.
"We know sir, but we wanted to ask you a few questions," Jasmine entreated, hoping to play up the favourite student card – she did have the highest defence scores in the year – beating out Hermione by the kind of regular margin she only received elsewhere in potions, and that Hermione had over her similarly in transfiguration.
"What about, Miss Potter?" the Professor inquired with a raised eyebrow – the only hair he had on his bald head.
"Well, we know you're originally from Tanzania," she began in reply.
"I'm surprised you can trace my accent that well," he stated with a chuckle, to which Jasmine made a dismissive hand gesture.
"Intuition," she said simply, "well, since that continent is well-known for snakes, we were wondering what you could tell us about any magical serpents you know of originating from Africa?" With a frown, Shacklebolt leant back in his chair with his eyes trained on her.
"You're trying to work out what Slytherin's monster is," he stated, watching the single nod she gave intently, "well, I hate to disappoint, but while Africa is known for many mundane species of snake, it is somewhat lacking on the magical side of things. The only one I can think of off the top of my head is the Emberscale, which is a rather small snake known for breathing fire. Apart from that…well, magical Africa is not known for reptiles, more for creatures like the Nundu. No, I'm afraid the place to find that sort of thing is South America and its rainforests; that's supposedly where the basilisk came from and such."
"Basilisk, sir?" Hermione asked with interest, speaking up for the first time as she couldn't keep in her desire to know more.
"Yes, nasty things," the man continued, "and very dangerous. They are highly venomous, and their eyes kill if you look directly into them. I've heard curse breakers in that part of the world live in fear of them guarding some old ruin or another."
"Thank-you sir," Jasmine stated, bowing a little, "sorry for wasting your time." She ignored the looks sent at her by the other two, and pulled them from the classroom.
"Did you hear what he said?" Hermione hissed in excitement as soon as they were outside.
"Yes, of course I did," Jasmine replied, "old ruins; as in traps in them, as in placed there by the builders, as in survived for that length of time."
"That gives it the longevity we're looking for," Hermione exclaimed.
"Wait, he said it was deadly. There was nothing there to imply petrification; a basilisk would just kill its prey, wouldn't it?" Nadia asked confusedly. Not for the first time – and she doubted for the last – Jasmine wondered how people could listen but not hear so often.
"Its gaze, he said 'directly.' None of the victims has seen it directly," the ravenette stated what had been an easy deduction for her.
"Justin saw it through Nearly Headless Nick," Hermione continued, counting off one on her fingers.
"Nick can't die again, obviously, since he's already dead," Jasmine added.
"Colin saw it through his camera, lots of mirrors reflecting the image inside, and the film was destroyed by it."
"And Mrs Norris, she must have seen the reflection on the water in the corridor," the Ravenclaw surmised finally. "With magic, slightly changing an aspect of something can alter the effects. The victims don't look the basilisk in the eye…"
"They're just petrified because of the reduction in power," Hermione completed. "Do you still have the book on 'Creatures from New World,'?"
"By Newt Scamander?" the girl briefly brought up an image of her room, the book being near the bottom of a pile recently taken from the library, "yes, it's in my dorm. I'll run up there; you two see what you can find in the library."
"Wait," Hermione exclaimed, rifling a hand through her pocket before she pulled out three buttons. With a quick transfiguration, three simple hand-mirrors rested in her grasp, and she handed one to each of her companions. "Look around corners first; you don't know when the monster might be there."
"Thank-you," she replied, taking the silver piece gratefully, having overlooked that idea.
"No problem, I'd rather my friends not die on me," the bushy-haired girl said with a slight smile on her face.
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She didn't want to do it, she was honestly trying to resist with all her little soul, like she did the day before. It had taken all her courage as a Gryffindor to slam the book into the toilet, but it hadn't stopped Tom.
No, nothing stopped him.
He had shouted at her, in her head, as she stalked away from the bathroom, the voice going quieter as she reached her dorms and lay down to silently cry. She'd thought she'd won, pushed him off her back.
As if things would be that easy.
He had sent her an image, and the thoughts of what was happening. Jasmine bloody Potter with the diary. The Girl-Who-Lived. She was in danger from him. She had to get it away from her.
She was inside Ravenclaw tower before she even noticed, looking around suddenly at the surroundings. There she was waylaid by an old friend, who distracted her with talk of strange imaginary creatures infesting her brain.
She knew the only creature that was in her brain, and he was very much real.
Her mouth moved on auto-pilot, making sounds of conversation while her mind was being dragged upstairs where she could feel him. He was so close; his voice so strong in her ear.
She could eventually stand it no longer, and made to leave the tower, waiting until she was in the entryway before surreptitiously casting a notice-me-not charm and turning back around. Tom had taught her that charm, in order to…
She didn't remember.
She wasn't sure she wanted to, either.
Her footsteps were light and quick as she darted up the stairs, bursting into the blessedly empty dorm.
She looked everywhere, feeling him so close, until she found the box. A simple 'Alohamora' did nothing, and in her frustration she slammed her pale hand down on the wood.
With a crack, both it and her hand broke. She gave a keen of pain, before it was pushed away by the flooding sensation of Tom as she gazed upon the worn black leather within.
And then everything went black.
A/N I was originally going to cover a bit more in this chap, but I felt like adding the ending because I liked it. Even if everyone does know who 'she' is. I am sorry for the lack of updates just generally, I don't think I've uploaded anything since late November, and that's because I had a very, very busy December which consumed a lot of my time. It is also slightly strange to see how in-demand this is; more than ten thousand views, and over two-hundred favourites and follows. It's quite overwhelming. I've got a few things that may be winging their way to my profile page, as well as continuation of this, so stay tuned.
