A/N: I would like to take a moment of respect as many others have done for Alan Rickman. Even when playing people we were supposed to despise, you never failed to bring a character to life, or to make us smile. You have always been, and will remain to be, amongst the truly greatest of actors. Rest in Peace, Alan. A reviewer pointed out a few chapters ago that in canon, Hermione's eyes are brown. Well, since I've already written it in, and I like the comparison with Sherlock, I'm keeping it. It's hardly the most AU part of this story.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.

Chapter 7

It took agonisingly long to reach the Ravenclaw common room, having to slow down from her running to look around corners with her mirror first, but eventually she got to the eagle knocker, and answered the brief riddle it gave.

Upon entering, it took her a few seconds to notice the stares being directed her way as she walked across the common room. When Morag came down the stairs from the dorms and upon noticing her took a pitying expression, she grew slightly concerned.

"What?" she asked carefully.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who did it," the redhead said with her slight Scottish lilt.

Pushing past her impatiently, and with concern on the brain, she legged it up the stairs to their open dorm-room door. What was inside stilled her heart.

Two of the female prefects stood around the complete mess that was her area of the room; her pillows and duvet thrown off the bed, and even the mattress shifted off the frame. What really caught her eye however was the open trunk with a broken lock, and her belongings strewn everywhere. With a quick movement, she stepped over to look inside, and felt her heart resume beating again as the false bottom containing various things she would prefer remain secret was still in place.

Gaining a confused look as she furrowed her brows, she looked around to see if anything was missing. Why would anyone rifle through her things in this way?

And then her eyes set upon splintered remains of a box. The diary she had found in Myrtle's bathroom yesterday, and then locked up. She hadn't considered protecting the transfigured box from being physically smashed to pieces. The lock from the front was visibly still intact, with a piece of the lid and base attacked to show it was still locked. What a fat lot of use that lock did.

Her mind reeled at a ten-to-the-dozen; why would someone take the enchanted diary?

Concentrating, she moved her mind to the prior night, searching events and thinking. Why would someone go to these lengths to regain a diary? A diary of someone who was quite possibly the last…

Oh.

Oooooooooooooh.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, before moving to run from the room. She stopped only once as she remembered to grab the book lying by the door, and then ran downstairs, ignoring the calls of the prefects.

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In her mad dash to the library, frustratingly checking around every corner, she was forced to stop when someone called out to her. Spinning on her heel, she set heated eyes upon Hogwarts' resident Transfiguration Professor and temporary Headmistress.

"Yes?" she said quickly, not caring for formalities right now. The old woman frowned at her lack of decorum, but didn't comment on it.

"I believe you may wish to accompany me to the Hospital Wing, Miss Potter," she stated.

"Why?" she replied warily.

"I'm afraid your friend Miss Gran-," that was as far as she got before Jasmine had turned tail and ran like her life depended upon it towards the domain of Madame Pompfrey.

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With little care the ravenette slammed open the wide doors to the Hospital Wing, spying the school nurse stepping out from behind a set of green curtains, she ran over and stopped at the sight within.

"Oh, Hermione," she breathed out, looking at the statue-like body on the bed, paused in what looked like mid stride, her head turned slightly to the side and her hand outstretched.

She barely heard the sound of the curtain closing behind her as the nurse gave her some privacy as she approached and flopped down into the wooden chair set by the bed. With a heavy heart, she clasped the unmoving, clenched left hand, the flesh hard and unyielding. Her eyes closed, and Jasmine tried not to tremble with the rage she was feeling, cursing under her breath in a way that would make many sailors blush or take notes.

With a sigh, she opened her emerald eyes once more and looked at the frozen face. In a split-second decision, she moved over and pressed her lips softly to Hermione's, pressing down for a single second before pulling away.

"I'll deal with this, don't you worry," she whispered while staring into her blue orbs. She gave one final squeeze to the girl's hand as she made to move away, before pausing at the rustle of crushed paper.

With curious fingers, she just about managed to prise the girl's clenched fingers apart and remove the crumpled parchment. Unfolding it revealed a page torn from a book – which was strange all on its own to have the bibliophile defile a book – containing information on the basilisk. Scanning down the page revealed how they were created, that they lived for hundreds of years, spiders fled before them, their venom killed in roughly thirty seconds, and their stare was deadly. And finally at the bottom of the page, in Hermione's neat writing was a single word.

'Pipes.'

"Oh, you clever girl," Jasmine whispered as the last pieces slotted into place in her head. "One day, you're going to make a great detective."

With those parting words, she stood, and took a deep breath as she looked down upon the unmoving body of the one person who mattered to her in the world.

And she let the rage fill her to the brim.

As she strode back through the Hospital wing, she didn't even answer the nurse's question about the mirror Hermione had been grasping, and the matching one in her own pale hand.

She also ignored the announcement magically broadcast through the castle by McGonagall.

All she did was take the mirror she held, and with a flick of her wand transfigured it into something she was more familiar with; a pair of reflective aviators, with black lenses and a silver frame, slotting them onto her face without breaking her pace.

They may not have the same enchantments as her normal pair, but they gave her strength, they gave her confidence. Of course they may also work against the Basilisk stare, being reflective and lenses, but hopefully that wouldn't need testing.

"Today you die, Riddle," she said under her breath. A threat, a vow and a promise.

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The bathroom stood much as it always had; no basilisk slithering around up here at the current time. With quick steps, she moved over towards Myrtle's favourite stall – the one she died in – and looked away, finding herself staring at the sinks centred around a pillar in the middle of the room.

Turning the taps of the closest basin did nothing, and she looked over it carefully before spotting an embossed snake on the worn bronze. Concentrating upon it as she had attempted to do during a few times since she discovered her heritage, she hissed;

"Open."

With a grinding noise, the sink sank in to the ground, joined by its fellows as the pillar moved up into the ceiling. All this revealed a long, winding tube of burnished bronze. With a frown, Jasmine tilted her head, before moving over to and opening a window.

"Accio school broom," she incanted, glad that she knew the summoning charm after learning to regain her wand wandlessly. After about a minute, the wooden shape could be seen flying towards her from the direction of the Quidditch pitch, and she caught it as it got close, surveying the beaten up broom. "It'll do," she eventually relented, and set it between her legs before jumping down the wide pipe.

She couldn't go too quickly, of course, but she went as fast as she dared, brushing her feet on each bend before finally exiting in a large, dark and damp room, the air cold but wet like the interior of a cave.

Slowly, she landed, looking down as the floor crackled a bit beneath her. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of innumerable skeletons of rats and other small creatures. After cast a few silencing charms on her feet to prevent noise, she leaned the broom up against the pipe exit.

She then withdrew, from around her neck, a small pouch made of mokeskin. With another whispered incantation, the bag opened slightly to allow her to summon her Ebony wand, which she slipped up her sleeve, her invisibility cloak, which she donned quickly, and the Hand of Glory, with which she lit the candle with bluebell flames and brought under her cloak, glad for the ability to see more clearly, while not giving away her position.

Her effects gathered, and wand out, she stalked into the nearest open pipe, her mind on a single track in desire for one thing only.

Her passage down the pipe was uninterrupted, the only noise being the occasional drip of water from here-or-there. That is, until she reached another large room with multiple pipes entering it, and a large vault-like door on the opposite wall. Moving out from the hinge into the circle was a whole cluster of metal snakes, presumably keeping the door locked.

"Open," she hissed once more, watching as another snake wove its way along the outside of the door, causing the others to retract and the portal to swing open.

Carefully, she stepped through to behold the ostentatious sight beyond.

The Chamber proper was like a Cathedral, the shadows obscuring the roof but giving the impression of a tall ceiling. Down the length, the central way forward was lined on each side by a long pool of water, out of which stood stone snake statues with green flames in their hollow eyes. And of course, at the far end of the chamber was a giant face with a scraggly beard, carved into the stonework like that of Mount Rushmore. Presumably, the oversized bust represented Slytherin himself.

However, halfway along the strip was her point of interest; a body lying on the floor in black student robes, and the faded looking male teen standing beyond her facing the bust of Slytherin.

Slowly, Jasmine crept closer, shoving the Hand of Glory back into her pouch and being careful to make no noise. When she was close enough to be perhaps a half-metre behind the girl on the floor, she pushed her wand a little outside of her cloak.

"Incarcerous," she whispered sending ropes flying towards Riddle. She resisted the urge to curse as they flew straight through his apparently ethereal body. With quick reflexes, he had spun and pointed his own wand in the direction of the ropes.

"Expelliarmus," he said quickly, and Jasmine's wand was ripped from her hand into his. He gave a triumphant smirk as he looked at the piece of holly wood in his other hand.

"Jasmine Potter, welcome to my triumph," he sneered out.

Deciding she had little to gain from it, Jasmine pulled off her cloak and shoved the conveniently shrinkable fabric that bent to her needs into her pocket.

"Riddle," she stated in return. "So this is who you were possessing all year." She used her foot to roll over the girl, spying the red-trim and splayed crimson hair. That Weasley, the first girl in their huge family. Ginevra. "Had a feeling it was a Gryffindor."

She knelt down next to the body under the pretence of trying to wake her up, while surreptitiously drawing her ebony wand.

"Yes, little Ginny Weasley was all too happy to pour her heart out to her diary, feeding me every little secret and confiding herself in me while I pushed myself into her," he declared. She said nothing, feeling perfectly happy to let him monologue. Honestly, she may be a villain who enjoyed theatrics, but even she knew better than to divulge her 'master plan' while allowing the enemy free movement. Honestly, it was the very definition of both clichéd and utterly moronic. "And through her I continued the great work of Salazar Slytherin that I did fifty years ago."

"Didn't achieve much; no mudbloods dead yet," she stated as her concealed right hand drew in Futhark behind her back. Runic Casting was technically outlawed in Great Britain as it came under the heading of 'dark magic,' and most likely for the very reasons she was using it for.

"Ah, just luck on their behalf, and I'll be sure to rectify it in future, but it is not of primary concern," he turned those dark eyes upon her, "no, Ginny imparted to me information that gave me a new obsession; you."

"Why me?" she replied, trying to keep the conversation going as she started drawing the second rune. It was a bit of a pain doing this without looking, and writing them backwards, but nothing she was incapable of.

"I wanted to know how a child, a girl, could defeat the greatest wizard of all time!" he sneered once more.

"Voldemort?" Jasmine cocked her head, allowing a little of her genuine interest to shine through, "why would he matter to you? He didn't emerge until long after you were at Hogwarts." Here, he gained an evil grin, triumph glittering in his eyes.

"Lord Voldemort is my past, present, and future," he declared, as he used the Cherrywood wand in his right hand – presumably Ginny's – to write fiery letters into the air in angular text. 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' with a flick of his wand became 'I am Lord Voldemort.'

"Ah, that actually makes a fair bit of sense," she replied nonchalantly, though inside her head gears were turning, she just didn't have the time to process it right now, "I mean, I knew Voldemort was a pseudonym – 'Flight From Death,' really? – but I'll confess to being amused that the great leader of the pureblood revolution is at least a half-blood rather than a member of the noble houses." That seemed to really rile him up as he grew truly angry.

"Why do you think I abandoned my filthy muggle father's name, you little brat?" he roared. "I believe it is time you learned some manners. Perhaps we should match the might of Lord Voldemort against Jasmine Potter." With that he turned, and looked to the statue, "Speak to me O' greatest of the Hogwarts Four," he declared, and absently Jasmine realised he was intoning in Parseltongue as the mouth of Salazar's bust began to creak and slide open. Frantically, Jasmine finished up the third and final rune, and flicked her wand forward to in-front of her while the moron was turned away.

"Expelliarmus," she said quickly, catching the surprised man's captive wands in her left hand in a move that surprised herself with her own hand-eye coordination. With a second speedy movement before he could recover, she again flicked her ebony wand, this time gesturing from behind her and dragging forward the three runes rotating about a single point at the tip of her wand. "Gehenne Ignitia."

The stream of orange and red flame, bordering on white at its centre was not unlike a fire hydrant in the way it streamed a high-velocity spray of blazing pyro-maniacal wonder. It spread quickly, a herd of Griffons stampeding outwards even as a giant dragon flew upwards to the height of the roof. And the heat was something else, even with the rune designed to protect the user that she had drawn, she definitely felt the effects of the inferno.

Said runes were to control this spell, since Fiendfyre was notorious as being easy to cast and incredibly destructive, before very, very quickly spiralling out of control and consuming everything around. She felt it should be more than capable of cooking the basilisk in its hide, but there was nothing quite like overkill.

Said runes glowed golden as she forced power into them, keeping them active even as the enchanted fire consumed the room beyond; any vision of which had been blocked almost immediately, though she believed she briefly heard a roar of pain and saw snakes of fire originate from where Riddle had been, although that could have been her imagination. Each glyph had a different function: the top one provided a shield to the user, preventing the fire from rolling backwards upon the summoner; the right hand one was designed to allow control to the user, making them assert their will over the flames on where it was going to go and do; and finally, the left one was for ending the spell, and sending the blaze back whence it came once its job was done.

After a full thirty seconds of the blistering heat, Jasmine decided said job was indeed finished, and enforced her iron will upon the inferno.

Screeches were heard as fiery animals protested being dragged backwards from their destructive path, white flames moving back inwards through the tip of her ebony wand. A bead of sweat trickled down Jasmine's brow before evaporating as her mind fought with the uncompromising animalistic desire of the Fiendfyre to consume, guiding and pulling the blaze down to smaller and smaller sizes until finally the last spark trickled back inside her wand.

As the runes faded, her hands fell to her knees and she sucked in dry, hot air greedily. That had taken a lot out of her, and her core was likely very depleted from the effort.

A whispered "Woah," snapped her from her reverie, and she looked over to see the Weasley girl sitting up on the stone, eye flicking between Jasmine and the area that had just recently been filled with flames.

"Obliviate," the ravenette stated quickly, pointing her ebony wand at the now glassy-eyed girl and removing any memory of the dark magic she had just performed, "stupefy." The red jet of light hit her squarely in the forehead, and she fell to the ground unconscious. Anyone looking into her mind would likely assume any missing memory as a part of her possession, so she wasn't overly worried about leaving evidence.

Straightening up, she paused upon seeing the devastation she had wrought.

The stone flag floor was blackened and cracked far beyond repair, and several of the ostentatious snake pillars had been completely destroyed or mutilated beyond recognition. Salazar himself was certainly looking worse for wear, with one eye completely punched out, and his beard frayed, not to mention the giant skeletal snake poking out of his sooty mouth.

"I am glad I did not have to fight you," she remarked, looking at the cracked skull from which the flesh had been flayed, standing nearly twice as tall as herself – the beast maybe originally having a ten foot diameter – and the mouth was full of dozens of oddly arrayed, brutally sharp teeth. Briefly she wondered if there was any venom contained within the fangs still, since that was a rare potion ingredient, and one of the most destructive things known to man – alongside Fiendfyre, interestingly enough – and thereby both useful and expensive. Shaking her head, she decided that was for another day, not least since the ground would currently be too hot to walk on.

"Mobilicorpus," Jasmine stated upon turning, flicking her holly wand at Ginny and upwards, causing her unconscious form to float three foot above the floor. "Time to face the rest of the world."

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Upon stepping once more into Myrtle's bathroom, and closing the entrance of the Chamber, Jasmine took a moment to look over her appearance in the mirror. Her glasses were removed and untransfigured, which actually turned them into the button they once were. All her other possessions were returned to the mokeskin pouch, and a quick spell removed the sewer-like smell from herself.

Deciding she looked presentable, she stalked out of the chamber, heading along the corridor towards the Great Hall.

She paused upon turning a corner to find a small congregation in front of the bloody words upon the wall: 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' McGonagall was attempting to comfort a rather large, redheaded woman while another ginger man stood to the side talking with none-other than Albus Dumbledore – which was interesting, considering he was suspended recently – Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge also appeared to be present, holding another conversation slightly further back. Being the closest, the first to notice her were the two women.

"Ginny!" the crying woman practically screeched, rushing forth to lay hands upon the floating body behind her. "Oh thank Merlin, she's alive!"

"Miss Potter!" the transfiguration professor exclaimed in surprise, "what on Earth?"

"The monster is dead," she stated in return, feeling the eyes of the room upon her, "so would you mind keeping the school open? I would rather like to finish my education here."

"Miss Potter," said the DMLE officer as she stepped forward, "would you mind sharing how you came to the information that the Monster is dead?"

"I killed it," she answered simply, "fire is surprisingly effective against reptiles – oh, I should mention, it was a basilisk."

"You killed a basilisk," the woman repeated, her eyebrow raised behind her monocle.

"Yes."

"In the Chamber of Secrets."

"Yes."

"With fire."

"And also a cave-in if that didn't kill it," she replied nonchalantly, "I hadn't tried poking its corpse, I just pulled Miss Weasley out before the ceiling collapsed on our heads. It had grown quite dilapidated after a thousand years."

"Why were you in the Chamber?"

"To deal with the bastard who tried to kill my…best friend, since none of the teachers were getting anywhere," she answered, "which reminds me; Miss Weasley will most likely require a mind healer, she's been possessed for the past few months by an enchanted object."

"Excuse me?" she didn't think the woman's eyebrows could rise any higher.

"A diary made by the boy who went on to call himself a dark lord and murder my parents," she stated, "he opened the Chamber last time, and when he didn't complete his goal, he left behind that book to possess someone and continue that goal: removing muggleborns from this school."

"Where is this diary now, Jasmine?" Dumbledore spoke up for the first time, his eyes twinkling concernedly at her.

"Burnt and buried," she replied, "and I don't believe we're on a first name basis, Mr Dumbledore."

"Professor," McGonagall hissed at her, reminiscently of her cat form.

"Ah, forgive me, I was unaware he had been reinstated to any role within this school – how quickly things change," she said in a disinterested tone. "But we're getting off track. The attacks this year were construed by an enchanted object possessing the girl behind me, and using a basilisk to petrify students by indirectly viewing its eyes, as I'm sure Miss Weasley will be happy to corroborate for you. Rennervate," she pointed her wand at the girl, making her eyes flutter open, "now if you'll excuse me, I would like to visit my friend in the Hospital Wing, good day."

And she walked past them, leaving a group of quite flabbergasted adults who would likely never forget that conversation. She would have strung them along more, and perhaps woven a more intricate lie, but right now she wanted to see Hermione. And find the cost of a restoration draught at present time – she wasn't certain she could survive the two weeks or so before the mandrakes were ready.

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"That was pretty strange at lunch," declared a voice as Jasmine sat upon a windowsill overlooking the courtyard, her mind morose at remembering games of deduction she and Hermione had played here previously. "I don't think I've ever seen the Weasley twins be serious before," Nadia said as she sat opposite her on the stone ledge.

"They were thanking me for saving their sister's life," Jasmine stated, "I received much the same reaction from her parents and the elder brother, Percy. I don't know which is worse; that, or the way everyone else have been staring at me since what I did was announced."

"Well, you did kill a basilisk, and save Ginny's life," the girl replied.

"I didn't do it for her," the ravenette said, staring away at the grey, cloudy sky. "I didn't actually know who was down there."

"There's something new; something you didn't know," Nadia said with amusement colouring her tone. Jasmine merely glared at her with hard emerald eyes, before returning to staring out of the window. "Alright, sorry for trying to lighten the mood. I know you're feeling down, but Hermione will be up and about in just another week."

"Can't come soon enough," she replied automatically, even if it wasn't what was bothering her. No, not quite. What was bothering her was that Hermione had almost died. And that made her feel things. She'd rushed along with her friendship with the girl, thinking of the mirror and it's portent of her heart's desire without thinking this past year. She'd never stopped to really consider that for the first time in her life, she actually cared about someone. Not cared about a means to an end, she actually liked Hermione as a person. She was never boring, she actually understood things that no-one else was capable of except her; she was an equal in this world of one-dimensional people ambling about their daily lives, that lone diamond in the rough.

And Jasmine cared about her.

She didn't quite know whether that scared or excited her.

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Predictably, the Daily Prophet went mad over the story that the Girl-Who-Lived slayed Slytherin's monster and destroyed the Chamber of Secrets. Of course, it then embellished the story to a nest of Basilisks that she had defeated with incredible magical power.

This view was destroyed, naturally, when the Diagon Gazette printed a more accurate article, containing quotes from Jasmine herself, detailing how she had a few potions designed to burn on contact with air ready, and might have overdone a few components causing them to explode instead, causing the cave-in. Their original statements without a leg to stand on, the Prophet diverted to the next available source: how the Senior Auror on a sabbatical teaching at Hogwarts couldn't figure out what a twelve year-old had put together, and that he had done nothing to stop the monster or the attacks.

And so, another Defence Professor resigned his post before the year was out, which Jasmine supposed was a shame as he was certainly a much better teacher than the previous two combined, and they had learned a lot as far as spell work went.

'I wonder how long this curse has been going on,' Jasmine mused as she speared a piece of sausage and chewed thoughtfully, 'it's a wonder anyone at all applies to the post, considering the track record.'

She was distracted from this train of thought as whispers moved throughout the hall, and she turned to see the point of attention: a small group of people entering the Hall, recognisably those who had been petrified.

Before she could even think Jasmine was out of her seat, food long forgotten as she scanned the crowd for one bushy-haired head.

Said mane of hair could be seen equally moving towards her, and quickly the ravenette found herself embraced in a hug, and strangely not resisting the warm embrace.

"You know, when we looked into working out what the monster was, I thought we'd tell a teacher or something. Going after it on your lonesome was not on the cards," the girl said drily.

"I had a Gryffindor moment," Jasmine quipped, earning a small punch to her arm.

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," Hermione quoted with a smile.

"The girl's been learning some culture, has she?"

"Hush, you."

And finally, Jasmine smiled. All was right with the world once more. Everything else would sort itself out, or she would beat it up until it did.

A/N: Written the day after the last one, I'm trying to use my flow while I still have it, although I think Third Year is going to be tricky, so I'll probably have delayed uploading this for a few days so it doesn't seem like such a big gap between updates. Evil, I know.