Message: This chapter has been re-uploaded because the stupid link at the end wouldn't show up. ¬_¬ sorry peeps, it's fixed now. *Kicks FF.net*

The Snake-who-lived

His eyes as green as the fresh pickled toad...

The valentine, Harry Potter et la Chambre des Secrets, page 252

Chapter 16: black knives and yapping monkeys

The pale light of a lumos spell barely filtered through the closed green curtains of Harry's four poster bed. The room's occupants were all sound asleep, two of the beds' curtains trembling from mighty thunderous snores, the other one stretching a bit with the imprint of a bare Malfoy foot.

The sky outside was dark, but the sun was slowly rising over the far horizon. It would soon turn into beautiful orange colors before settling on blue for another day. But he didn't see this, not just because the only windows peeking through the walls of their dormitory were thin cracks at ground level, with a view blocked by the castle walls preventing one from even seeing the sky, but because he was concentrated in his reading.

January had sped by with few incidents, most of them being regular class-related mistakes – touching a spine of an itching-poisonous rosebush in Herbology, having poor aim and turning his own finger into a centipede in Transfiguration or simply being in the same Potions classroom as Neville Longbottom. No attacks had happened, to everyone's relief. Some thought that, perhaps, the heir had received common sense for Christmas.

The Jusenkyo episode had fortunately remained a relative secret. By relative, I mean that most people knew something had happened, but not necessarily what. The source of the rumors became obvious when Lee Jordan, a close friend and dorm mate of the Weasley twins, called him by the name of Hailey.

Peeves had become rather easy to control – all you really needed was a bucket of water, and the poltergeist would go off flying in fear. The other students had no idea why, but this sent the 'Jusenkyo victims' into hysterics every time, as he had not been informed of the fact that the curse was a one-time-only deal. The password to the Slytherin common room had also been changed to octopus, for some reason. Some Slytherins complained that it sounded just stupid, though.

Lockhart's lessons took a turn for the funny. Every ten minutes, the blonde took a look through a mirror, as if to reassure himself that he was still a human, and that his teeth and hair were still flawless. Blaise, Harry and Draco had taken in to doing as many monkey references during his lessons and watching his reaction. When Crabbe and Goyle had started in, too – with a "Hey, isn't that a monkey?" that sent Lockhart tumbling for his mirror – the professor had decided it was enough. Outside the door, a sign now read: "Monkeys are forbidden."

Someone, most likely Fred or George – or perhaps Draco – had crossed out Monkey and written "Lockharts". The Blonde had still to realize it.

The grey paged book lying open on his pillow, Harry was staring at the letters written in it with only the small light of his wand. He had gone to sleep early to wake up early and read, as he had done for the past month or so.

At first, he had had guarded intentions toward the spells taught to him by the book, who only switched page after he had mastered the spell, thus forcing him to go through every single one. Slowly, though, he began to find it… interesting. Some spells were rather gory or disturbingly powerful, and some felt so… wrong that he absolutely refused to use them ever again.

Re-reading the instructions of the spell one last time to make sure he understood every step correctly, he flicked out the Lumos spell and concentrated.

The book had said that, as his mastery of the more potentially dangerous spells increased, he would not need to wait so long to cast one of them. The reason he had to concentrate was because, as the book had explained it, the spells fed on a deeper 'layer' of magic. It had compared a wizard's magic to an orange – "light" magic sent out dry peels, "dark" magic sent out the seeds. The problem was extracting said seeds, but they hit harder than the peel.

Causing pain and harm was about all it could do, however. The same as a thrown seed, actually.

Slowly, Harry repeated the commands he had done every night for a month. He closed his eyes and felt inside him, trying to "feel" his magic. He did it easily, now. It felt warm and comforting, a part of him that he never wanted to part with.

The next part was trying to feel a negative emotion – Dark magic, like most magic spells, needed a proper state of mind. Any negative feeling would do, be it despair, jealousy or anger. And Harry, thinking of Voldemort and the Dursleys, easily found his source. Only then did he probe deeper in the feeling of his magic, which suddenly felt as warm as a fire.

His bandanna-clad forehead began to heat up. It was not painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant, either. He guessed it came from his scar, caused by his use of dark magic. It was possible that the only "death curse" scar in existence reacted from the element that had caused its creation. It wasn't like he could compare it to anything, either, and the book held no answer for his queries. It had even gone as far as to firmly assure him that surviving a Killing curse was physically and magically impossible.

He had happily reminded it that, in that case, he was dead. The book had then pointed out a zombifying ritual. That had shut him up very nicely.

Slowly, he swished his wand, feeling its comforting warmth suddenly cool down from the different magic it received from him. His fingers felt cold, now, as if he had just put them in a freezer and had kept them in there for half an hour. He didn't pay heed to it anymore – it was normal. So the book said, anyway. Harry was starting to dislike its know-it-all attitude. Then again, it was a reference book.

"I'm ready." He told the book in a calm whisper, mindful of ears that might be listening.

Very well. I will release the rat.

With that, the book's pages blurred as they quickly turned, too fast for him to see anything but an ethereal-looking grey mass. When they stopped, it was at the final page, where a physically impossible hollow was dug through the page, through the cover and into a deep, black, endless hole.

Then, the "rat" popped out. It was a small, dark grey mass of undistinguishable features – they constantly shifted, as if the creature had no physical form but what it believed it had, and changed its mind every ten seconds. It had, however, a vaguely humanoid shape, with two "arms" and "legs" poking out, often twisting in impossible manners. The first time Harry had seen one, he had nearly screamed – which would have woken up Draco and brought a small disaster down on him. Now, though, they were almost familiar.

The disturbing feeling of wrongness that washed over him every time was still unnerving him, though.

Pointing his wand at the "rat" before it could orient itself and attempt an escape – as the first one had tried to do – Harry followed the instructions he had read in the book. With a violent swish of the icy cold holly wood, he muttered the incantation, hoping that Draco was deeply asleep:

"Geisttötend Zauber!"

As the awkwardly pronounced German words shot out of his mouth, his forehead gave a powerful wave of heat that neared the painful, but never reached it. In that sense, it was different from the scorching agony of Voldemort's influence. He felt his magic shift and weave according to his wishes and couldn't resist a satisfied smirk. He felt strong, now. Very strong. He hesitated to think invincible, though, but it was close. It was a wave of pure power.

A wave a black lightning flew out of his wand, which now felt like an icicle, and hit the "rat" directly, causing it to fly up against the curtain and disappear in a puff of smoke. He had passed this test – otherwise, it would have stayed. He allowed himself a grim smirk, knowing the book would now allow him to learn the next curse.

Few minutes later, the book was safely concealed in his folded invisibility cloak, itself hidden under a bunch of Uncle Vernon's old socks. The sun outside was just starting to peek over the castle walls through the thin windows of the second year Slytherin boys' dormitory. He knew Draco wouldn't be long, and that soon they would climb down the stairs to greet Blaise, as they were accustomed to.

Sure enough, Draco's curtains spread apart with the soft rustling sound of silk cloth rubbing against wooden poster. The icy-blue-eyed boy, hair tousled and almost begging for care and a good dose of gel, peeked out.

"Morning…" Harry said, acting as if he had just woke up himself. It had been hard, at first, to hide things like that from him – as far as he remembered, he hadn't really kept a secret from his best friend. Now, however, it was getting unnervingly easy. Perhaps he was slowly killing his conscience, although, most likely, he had been doing the same thing for a month, so of course it would be easier.

"Hey." Draco returned with a yawn, passing a hand through his hair and messing it up even more thoroughly. With practiced movements and a dazed look in his eyes, the boy pulled out a towel and fresh clothes, before walking into the shower room of their dormitory. If Harry had decided to use it first, the boy would have gotten suspicious. Besides, he despised waiting, and tended to threaten to take the door down if he wasn't allowed his morning shower as soon as he woke up.

After Harry had his turn, he walked out the door – waking up Crabbe and Goyle through jets of icy cold water from his wand – to catch up on Blaise and Draco, who were both waiting for him, as usual. Unanimously, with a single common nod for all discussion, the three headed for the great hall…

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Blaise's colored outburst pretty much summed the thoughts of her other two friends as they entered the hall, which seemed to have taken a turn for the colorful itself. Pink and yellow seemed to be the dominating color, although there was a fair dose of red thrown in, as well. The Slytherin table was covered with a hideous, candy-pink sheet, but the other houses were not spared, either. Vases of diversely colored roses were aligned on the tables as well. The ultimate insult, though, was the banners normally hanging from the stone beams connecting the two walls. Instead of the snake-lion, green-gold-red-silver design, they were now golden roses with little pink hearts in the background. Pink heart-shaped confetti also constantly fell from the roof, like some disgustingly… PINK rain.

All and all, it was a scene for the horror movies.

Harry quickly wondered why the hall had been so mutilated. There was no way someone had done all this damage in one day, without anyone noticing. And there was no way Dumbledore, as bonkers as he was, would allow this, unless it was for a special occasion…

He gave a look around, trying to find the most likely culprits. Fred and George were sitting beside their friend Lee Jordan, and all three looked sick enough to prove their innocence. Peeves was nowhere to be seen – if this had been his doings, he would have been hovering somewhere nearby, cackling at their faces. Besides, it wasn't his style.

However, it was the style of Lockhart. Sure enough, sitting at the high table, there was the blonde teacher, dressed in robes as pink as the rest of the hall. He, Blaise and Draco hesitatingly took a seat at their unrecognizable table.

'Wait… we're in February, aren't we?' He thought to himself, suddenly feeling afraid.

As if to justify his fears, Lockhart got up and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention away from their conversations – mostly about the hall's predicament – and toward him.

 "Happy Valentine's day!" Lockhart declared, confirming Harry's suspicions. He hadn't really kept such a close look on the dates. "First, I would like to thank the forty-six people here who sent me a card for this occasion…"

Pansy and Millicent, some distance away, both giggled and blushed. Harry had to fight a retch.

"…as you can see, I took the liberty of giving you this little surprise, but that's not all!"

"Enough already!" Blaise moaned loudly enough to be heard all over the hall, causing bursts of agreeing laughter.

To his credit, Lockhart managed to ignore her. With a clap of his hands, the doors of the great hall squeaked open and twelve midgets strode in, dressed in identical togas decorated with small wings. Each of them held a harp under one arm and disgruntled expressions on their faces.

"Those are my message-carrying cupids!" Lockhart said, pointing at the midgets, ignoring the fact that one of them gave the teacher 'the finger' at being called a cupid. "They are charged of giving people their valentines for today!"

"Hence their names." Draco muttered with a smirk. "How much do you bet they'll happily give Lockhart an insulting one?"

"Anything as long as you do it," Harry replied with an identical smirk, "and we get to post it up at dinner, in front of everyone."

"Excellent idea," Blaise grinned, "what classes do we have, Draco?"

"Charms, then History." The boy replied. "Potions after dinner, then the last period's off. Valentine day special and all…" He gave a shudder while looking around the room, "much better way to celebrate that what that idiot's done."

As it turned out, the Charms class was nothing if not pointless. Flitwick tried to show them a version of the levitation charm meant for higher control than the regular "Wingardium Leviosa", but with the midgets going about, walking in class and handing valentines, he was virtually unable to put six words in without being interrupted.

"Remember, Swish, twiddle, flick and say:—"

"Delivery for mister Malfoy." A midget called from the door, causing the diminutive teacher to squeak in surprise and fall off his pile of books.

Harry and Blaise both gave a look at Draco, who sighed and opened his hand to receive it. On his desk were three others, also addressed to him. One of them was from a certain Marietta Edgecombe, about whom he had never heard the name of before.

The midget grumpily strutted over to the blonde boy and handed over his fourth Valentine. For a moment, the boy gave it a look, wondering if he should read it. Upon reading the identity of its sender, however, he gave a dejected sigh and opened it.

The letter was pink, with lots of hearts and red roses and a message sweet enough to have Draco puckered up in disgust for the next two weeks. Harry stretched his neck, reading over the boy's shoulder to satisfy his curiosity. It was one of those pre-made cards in which the sender only wrote their name.

Roses are red, Violets are blue

I have to say that I love you

If your heart is good and pure as you

Will you say you love me too?

Pansy

The letter ended with a sickening little heart, handwritten by the girl. Harry gave a look at his friend's face, which was twisted in a mask of emotionless cold. Harry, however, knew he was disgusted – his upper lip shivered a bit, as if he was barely holding back a sneer through his poker face.

"So, what are you going to say?"

Draco put down the letter and shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his disgust expertly. "Nothing, it says I only have to say anything if my heart is good and 'as pure as me'." His lips twisted in a smirk. "And it's most certainly neither." He declared proudly.

Somewhere in the back rows, Pansy pouted a bit at his answer, before returning to her fascinating discussion with Millicent about the best possible use of nail polish on their toes.

If one thought receiving a valentine from someone one knew and had no interest to was the worst thing that could happen to one, then Harry, few minutes after the bell rang, would have told one to politely stick their thoughts in their rectal output sockets.

"You're Harry Potter?" A midget asked him, reading the name out loud from a piece of paper in his hand. His other hand was holding his harp in an oddly anticipating way.

"Er… no." Harry quickly replied. "Not in my year, we're third years."

"Eh… Har-ouch!" Crabbe attempted to correct him when Blaise stomped his foot.

Is, by now, everyone familiar with Murphy's law: "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong"? I hope so. If not, here's another example:

"Harry!!" A childish, excited voice called out as a bunch of first year Hufflepuffs walked by on their way to one of their classes.

To Harry's utter horror, Colin Creevey busted his hastily thrown on cover. His voice also attracted the attention of virtually everyone in the hallway, including the approaching first year Slytherins, on their way to the Charms classroom themselves.

"I wanted to say sorry about the way my housemates might treat you, they think you're the heir, but you can't be the heir 'cuz you're not evil even if you're a Slytherin and—"

"So you are Harry Potter!" The midget said victoriously. "I have a singing valentine for you."

Harry's thoughts whirled in a horrified mix stuck in the blender set to "purée". 'Oh, this is so wrong… so bad… this is going to be so humilia---SINGING?!'

Clearing his throat, the midget tweaked one of the chords on his harp, producing a soft note. With a deep breath, he started to sing in a screechy, bad voice of someone thinking he can sing better than reality reveals:

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blac—"

"SILENCIO!!" Harry quickly cast at the midget, interrupting his screeching voice. A suit of armor, some distance in behind him, finally collapsed, unable to cope with the noise. With his bane unable to sing, speak or protest, his breathing heavy, his face blushing in humiliation, Harry stormed away, roughly pushing Ginny against Emma and out of his way as he passed.

Harry was still angry at whoever sent him that valentine during the history class. The midgets who interrupted Binns' class – well, sort of, since the ghost didn't even register them and didn't stop his lecture at all – were much more wary around him and kept their voices as low as possible, as if afraid he'd cast a silencing charm on him, too. He was too frustrated to care though.

Blaise and Draco, a safe distance away, busied themselves on the poem for Lockhart. Every now and then, he could hear one of them either chuckle evilly. Binns paid them no heed, his eyes emptily staring at the stone wall behind them. For a moment, Harry wondered what would happen if his entire class stayed outside the door; would the ghost still teach to an empty class?

Probably. It wasn't like their presence valued for much anyway, he mused as he looked at his classmates; Pansy doodling on a piece of parchment, Millicent reading a magazine in plain sight, not bothering to hide it and Crabbe and Goyle, whispering about something and chuckling in nosy snorts and wheezes.

The bell rang, announcing the end of the torture sess—Class, sorry. The grateful Slytherins filed out of the door while Binns gathered the notes laying on his desk through his hands – as in, not able to pick them up, but not bothering to care about a small detail like that.

Harry was much calmer, by now, the midget episode partially forgotten. He still wanted to find whoever had sent him that valentine and curse them to next week Thursday evening, but he was no longer seething at anything that dared approach him. Sensing the danger gone, his friends were back at his sides, both of them bearing Cheshire cat smiles on their faces. A neatly folded piece of parchment was in Draco's hand.

"It's ready," The boy said, grinning.

Harry smirked at him. "Great… can I see?"

"Not 'till dinner time, when—justaminute…" She quickly picked the parchment from Draco's hand and roughly grabbed a passing grumbling midget by the shoulder with her other hand. With a smirk, she handed it to him, whispering a special demand to the small "cupid".

Cupids are normally not supposed to give evil crooked smirks, are they?

The great hall was still horrible when they came in to have dinner. Fortunately, the pink sheets covering the tables had vanished, probably at the insistence of the house heads. Unfortunately, the banners were still there, although, for some reason, the way Peeves was hovering around them with a small table knife in his hands told him they wouldn't for very long.

The chatters around the Slytherin table were in full action. The rumors of the singing valentine were circulating and already the stories he could tell were exaggerated. He had cut off the midget so quickly he had no idea what the intentions of the sender might have been: For all he knew, it could have been:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a black knife

I want his head, wish he was dead

The bastard to whom I hold strife

…What? It could have been that. Really! Besides, what love letter compares the subject to a toad, hmm?

Already, the rumors circulating varied between a): He had received an anonymous valentine from an admirer, b): He had received a declaration of undying, romantic love and an offer to take his virginity from some sixth year Hufflepuff girl he didn't even know, c): He had received a declaration of undying, romantic love and an offer to take his virginity from some sixth year Hufflepuff GUY he didn't even know, d): Ginny had sent him a valentine and was, therefore, as if it was an undeniable proof, his girlfriend. The last one was particularly amusing; especially from the way Ginny blushed to the root of her hair and protested loudly enough for the head table to hear it clearly over the conversations.

Lockhart was at said table, explaining the importance of having pink-colored tables during St-Valentine's day to an uninterested Sprout, a frowning McGonagall, a Flitwick who had charmed himself deaf and a very much murderous Professor Snape. The latter gave an unheard retort to Lockhart's 'discussion' that caused the blonde to gasp in theatrical astonishment while his face colored in genuine but impotent anger.

"Come on, stupid midget…" he heard Blaise grumble as she fretted nervously while absentmindedly trying unsuccessfully to bend her spoon into a pretzel. "Hurry up, now would be perfect--- there he is!"

Sure enough, the small cupid-clad cranky midget had just set foot in the great hall and was walking toward the head table. But he wasn't alone. Six other identically clad and just as sarcastically merry dwarves strode behind him. Each seven of them had evil grins on their faces that made them look like invading fallen angels of the ridiculously obviously fake kind.

"What owes us the pleasure of this visit?" Professor Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling knowingly while flashing a look at Blaise.

Blaise smiled pleasantly and gave the headmaster a wave, while muttering to her friends: "Oh crap. Dumbledore knows. I'm screwed."

Draco, looking for all purposes bored out of his mind, as was expected of him, hid his mouth from view and agreed: "You and me, both."

The head midget lifted a roll of parchment and smirked. "We have a singing Valentine for Professor Lockhart," He said, causing the blonde at the table to turn whiter than a snowflake. "The author would like to remain anonymous."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, his voice betraying his mirth. "Well, go ahead! As you see, Mister Lockhart just can't wait to receive it. Right, Gilderoy?"

Lockhart's face colored again as he was checkmated in two moves. "Er… certainly…?"

"Well then," The midget grinned evilly, turning toward his co-cupids. "At three, one, two, three:"

And they began to sing as one, all of them off-key in a different way and purposely too loud, but the song's words were clearly audible all over the hall:

We all know him as Lockhart, the bane of our hearts

            His job is to teach us against the dark arts,

            Well, we suppose, since that's the name of our class

            Though in this case, it's his face we're always up against.

Harry snorted, as did most of the great hall. Draco and Blaise were doing their best not too look too innocent. It was rather hard, though, especially from the way they grinned and snickered before the punches came.

The midgets started to clap their hands and, suddenly perfectly chorused, though still slightly off-key, launched into the refrain:

            Teeth-induced blindness, colors causing sickness,

            We say this with no heavy heart

            Has no sense of fashion, writes nothing but fiction,

            Sound the alarms, run for the barns, it's Gilderoy Lockhart!

Harry risked a look at the head table. Lockhart was seething with rage, now, his wand clenched in his fist nearly to the point of cracking in two, spitting angry red sparks. The other teachers, though, didn't share this sentiment. Flitwick was still unknowingly eating, McGonagall was trying to look stern – which was a tad bit difficult considering a grin the size of London was trying to poke its way through her face – Sprout was openly grinning and chuckling. Professor Snape was giving the blonde a hard smirk while his eyes were pointed at Draco and Blaise. He evidently had guessed as well.

Most surprisingly, or perhaps not so, was Dumbledore, who was now laughing so hard it was probably audible on the other side of the Atlantic.

He wears those flashy colors trying to get us running,

            All it makes us want to do is just burst out crying,

            His hair is long and definitely feminine,

            We bet it gets split ends and bends like a drunkard's line!

            Screaming like a banshee, yapping like a monkey

            Here's a warning to young and old of heart:

            Has no sense of fashion, writes nothing but fiction,

            Sound the alarms, run for the barns, it's…

            Teeth-induced blindness, colors causing sickness,

            We just can't wait 'till he's gone

            Has no sense of fashion, writes nothing but fiction,

            It's: Teeth-grind, color-blind, screaming monkey, yapping banshee

Sound the alarms, run for the barns! 

Gilderoy Lockhart's in town!!

Applauses and laughter erupted from everywhere in the hall, along with loud – and mostly female – protests and jeers. The latter did not seem to faze the seven midgets at all as they bowed to the acclamations. Dumbledore himself was still laughing, tears streaming down his cheeks. The other teachers had given up trying to hold back their mirth and were also either laughing, chuckling – Only Professor Snape, actually, although his smirk could have made demons cringe in fear – or… well, in Flitwick's case at least, being thoroughly confused. He had, apparently, removed the deafening spell on himself only after the song was over.

As for Lockhart, he was very much obviously furious, but managed – barely – to hide it behind a grin that looked much tighter than usual.

"Excellent song, whoever made this," Lockhart declared, his voice managing to close the enormous gaping hole between a jovial tone and a seething growl. "But I noticed one or two mistakes. If you'd please come to my office after class, I'll be more than glad to help you correct them."

With that sarcastically gentle and dangerously generous offer, the irate professor took his cue to indignantly walk toward the great hall doors…

"GYAHAHAHAHA!!!"

And ending up swallowed in a very heavy-looking mass of candy-pink cloth as Peeves flew off, still holding the table knife in his hand.

While the great hall erupted in new waves of laughter, Harry gave a look at his friends, still grinning.

"Nice song, you even managed to put a monkey joke in."

Blaise smirked. "It wasn't easy sometimes… you have no idea how many times we re-wrote the second verse."

"Seventeen." Draco sighed. "And you used my ink."

"To quote Hermione: I'm sure your finances are devastated." Blaise retorted with a pull of her tongue.

"So," Harry interrupted before an argument could set its foot down, "are you going to take him up on his offer?"

"Are you kidding?" Blaise and Draco both asked.

"Yes, actually." He replied with a smirk.

'Maybe today won't be so bad after all…'

Harry, Harry, Harry. When will you learn not to tempt fate?

Author's notes:

Geisttötend Zauber is "Soul-destroying spell" in German. I think. I have no idea if my dictionary is accurate (Since the only word I know in German is Nein. (I think that's German… lol, not even sure.) If you speak German, mention it in your review – which you WILL leave down… right? *stare* – please, just in case I need it, I'll note it down. *Looks at Simply Myself* It happened before. Italian too, just in case.

I believe that some of us know very well of the perils of using a language they know little about… ¬_¬ *looks at RaistlinofMetallica*

"Showers in the dorm!! That's not canon!" Extremely picky readers point out.

I know, but it's not against it, either: JKR doesn't say ANYWHERE where there are showers and baths, except the Prefects' bathroom. There are four possibilities: 1, the students don't shower and get cleaned magically (which is possible) 2, there is a common shower room/hall for every boy and every girl (Hopefully separate rooms) which doesn't seem too likely, since… imagine the chaos!!  3, there is a common shower room for the houses' boy and girls (again, hopefully separate). (Also a possibility). 4, and the one I used, there are showers connecting the dorms. It's the one I prefer, actually. Washing magically seems kind of dry, no pun intended.

There IS also the possibility of Hogwarts following the medieval setting of the whole magical world a bit too far and… eww. A bath or two per year, perhaps? Ugh. General stinkage. If that's the case, then I'll agree with the Dursleys: They are filthy. And I don't want to agree with them, so there. ^_-

Besides, as I said before, if it doesn't break Cannon, it's fair game. JKR didn't spend a lot of words describing the dorms. Blame it on her. ^_-

Pansy's poem is intentionally bad, although my poetic skills are almost legendary in its pitifulness – if that's a word. If there's one thing I cannot, for the life of me, write, it's angst and poems. Woe is me for hat songs. *sighhhh* Thank Urd's family tree that I don't need to write one for book 3… I think.

The Lockhart-bashing song, I honestly tried my best – is it any good? *sigh* spent a whole four days on it, too… I did actually rewrite the second verse seventeen times. As for borrowing Draco's ink, well… erm… I tried, but he had a magically-powered mechanical guard dog on it. I'm going to the surgery tomorrow to re-attach my hand ^_-

*Blink* 1 person caught where I found Emma's name. One. O_o

~~

I received many comments/complaints about Harry's dueling skills. Here's my answer: Harry is NOT superman. If you look in the books, the only dueling spells he actually uses are "Stupefy" and "Expelliarmus" (Although the list gets longer after the DA). He hasn't actually fought a true battle until after third year, and after learning tons of spells in preparation for the third task.

Blaise has got lessons with quite capable help during the summer, Hermione is a bookworm and Xu… well, that's a secret for now. So, yes, he is average, compared to them. As for Harry's power, it's cannon information that he's very powerful. Think of the Patronus, the accidental apparition when he was young, the disappearing glass… And I doubt just anyone could summon their brooms all the way from the school.

~~

ANSWERS TO THE PERFECTLY NORMAL REVIEWERS: (Bet I surprised you with this one, eh? ^_-)

VMorticia: Heh, didn't think about that. I guess we'll see how it turns out in book 3, lol. The toothpick VS Hagrid's treacle fudge, umm? Talk about David VS Goliath… Only this time, the toothpick doesn't stand a stone of a chance. I agree, although I'm not even sure I HAVE a local team. Heh, maybe it would be the "Marsouins de Montréal". Hmm… might be interesting to make something in wizarding Québec… hehe.

BF110C4: Yeesh, thanks for the motivation… ^_-. Yup, and that's the reason why I gave it anyway.

Sapphire Lotus: Erm… okay, done!

RaistlinofMetallica: Hehe, that's just the effect I wanted, thanks. *Shrug* still got one year before I end up in the big schools (Céjep) around here, so I'm cool for now :P

The Vampire Story Hunter: Heh, I like your name. I aim to please ^_-.

GShans: *Blush* thanks! And to answer your question, I have no idea. My guess is book 2 will be about 20 something chapters, I can't really plan all that far away on chapter-to-chapter basis. My plans always end up screwing up – except for big events. The Christmas episode I had planned since the end of book 1, for example, and then there's the book 3— *A slender hand blocks his mouth* "Don't mind him, honey," A character yet unrevealed said with a chuckle. "He's just ramblin'."

*sigh* those characters, I swear…

Flummox: No, it wasn't, but maybe I should have put some of it in ^_-. Now that's just gross, Flum. A used toothpick? Not even the Dursleys are that cheap… well, maybe. Indirect or direct, what's the difference? It's Lockhart bashing, it's a sport! ^_- I'll probably get drunk this weekend, since the big party's then, and I just KNOW my cousin will never let me go without forcing me to chug. *shrug* Ah, yes, good memories, drinking and getting drunk… 'course, one never seems to have as many "Getting drunk" memories as "Having a hangover" ones, strangely enough… lol. And you REALLY didn't catch the Emma reference? Wow, I'm good ^_-

Ran Hoshiro: Hence why I gave it anyway. Hmm… I guess it does, ne?

Aensland: Heh, way off. *shrug*

Blackheart Syaoran: Bravo, you're the only one who guessed the Daniel and Rupert thing. (And actually said it, no offense to those who didn't). O_o don't you ever actually DO the fics you start?! Lol

Saruman the White: Whoa, down boy! The explanation is above in the notes, if you'd care to read them. ^_- I haven't actually planned to the end (And at the rate I'm going, book 7 will be out by the time I do book 6, so I'll plan as the books go along) – and the sheer number of original sideplots I have might very well blow over in post-Hogwarts fics. We'll see then.

Dragonsprincess: Yes, I was talking about Inuyasha ^_- Hehe… perhaps, perhaps not. It all depends. Belated thanks ^_-

Meinien: That's a secret ^_-

Ice Angel: *Blush* I'm not that good. And glad you like the cameos, finding spots to stick them in is fun ^_-. *Blush* Erm… dirty mind.

Amethyst D: Weasleys Are Really Thick, remember? But they ARE rather pig-headed in this. I can't have them try to make up now, though ^_-

Leatrix Malfoy: What happens next… is a secret ^_-

C. Rose: Intrigued you mean. It'll all become clear… later. Much later ^_-

Simply Myself: I guess I'm going to pull another Xelloss: That, is a secret. I'm going to have to put some Omakes and bloopers at the end of this book… I'm going to have to. Whack me over the head if I don't remember.

Lanferl: Heh, having trouble with muses, too, hmm?

"Now what's that supposed' ta mean?" A yet secret character snapped.

*sigh* Don't start.

Jessica/Devonny Rose: *shrug* it's a possibility, we'll all see how it turns out.

Seeing as SWL is becoming moderately popular (20 reviewers this time!), I've started a yahoo! group. Everyone is welcome ^_-

Here it is,

groups.yahoo.com/group/SnakeWhoLived/

Just copy-paste it in the address bar (if you don't already know how to do that [It could happen, *shrug*])

Although there really isn't much on it yet, I can't seem to be able to pull out the backups of this fic… There ARE rewrites of parts 1, 2 and 3 of the first book. *shrug* guess I'll have to pull out the rest of the fic in the good old "Copy-paste" way… anyway. There are some changes, especially the final scene of part 3, which was completely changed.

*shrug* on the good side, I'll check up regularly and I'll answer faster to reviews… if I find the time to, that is. And you get a warning bell for when I update (Considering I'm hardly a predictable updater, lol ^_-)

On the bad side, it takes you two minutes to sign up. Agh, that is sooo hard. ^_-

See you there,

Akuma-sama.