The Snake-who-lived
"The same as last time, Lucius," Said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort acted through someone else. By the means of this diary."
Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter et la chambre des secrets, Page 354.
Chapter 25: The Aftermath
Two tall yew trees arched over the entrance of the garden. Lush green grass, so full of life, lied about the content of the earth it grew on. Clear water flowed down an artificial river to a man-made pond in the center of the open area. A ring of stones lay around it, silent and still forever, just as what they represented for those whose names were carved into them.
Just as she had done uncountable times before, the woman silently strode between the trees, her shoe-clad feet crushing the grass as she went, and kneeled down in front of one of the stones, which already bore dried, dead flowers on top.
For a long time, she did not make a sound. The birds' cheerful singing seemed to fade away, replaced by the soft, long sound of leaves ruffled by a lazy breeze, and the soft trickling of the slowly flowing water. Clouds passed over the sun and went away, throwing cool shadows down on the stones.
"I'm sorry." She finally uttered, before getting up and leaving.
On top of the stone, a new flower had been placed on top of the dead ones, soon to join them.
And carved into the stone, a name and years were written, as still and as dead as whoever lay in the tomb beneath:
Clarissa Noire
1963-1981
~~~
Harry Potter woke up.
This was strange in itself, considering he didn't even remember going to sleep.
The only times this happened, as far as he remembered, was whenever he risked his life for a reason or another. Although this time, he knew there had been no Quidditch matches, nor had there been dragons, trolls or three-headed dogs involved this time.
Just a great bloody snake with killer-eyes-that-couldn't-seem-to-kill-him. And Voldemort. Can't forget him, can we. Only, it was a Voldemort before the whole permanent red eye and Marilyn Manson face tint thing happened. And who called himself Tom. And who had a middle name to scare off more people than his self-given nickname.
Come on, just imagine this: Here's the evil dark lord, Marvolo.
Yup, scary.
Whoever he had been named after, Harry didn't want to meet him (or her).
It took him a few minutes to see through his strange but quite distracting exhaustion-induced delirium. When he did, though, he decided he needed to figure out where he was. With all he knew, he could still be in the chamber of secrets and he wouldn't have noticed.
With extreme effort, he forced his eyes open. The white ceiling of the infirmary room, bathed in the darkness of the night, assaulted his vision. The flickering light of the torches seemed to pierce and twist spears in his eye sockets, even though he perfectly knew they were barely bright enough to allow one to see shadowy shapes. With a bit less difficulty, he moved his arm to block out the light, wincing in pain.
"Awake, I see."
Dumbledore's voice came so suddenly that Harry nearly shrieked in surprise. The old man was sitting on the bedside chair at his left, though most of his shape was hidden by darkness. The boy could have sworn his blue eyes were shining, although they looked unusually grave. The pleasant twinkle was gone, as well.
"P-Professor Dumbledore, er…" Harry stuttered, not quite knowing what to say. "When did you come back?"
"Some hours ago, after news of what happened reached me. Not even Lucius found a way to hold me back… but enough about me. How do you feel, Harry?"
Harry blinked, assessing the question. Except for the fact that someone had apparently replaced his bones with lead, he felt fine. No pain at all, which was surprising – he had expected at least a headache.
"Fine," He replied truthfully. "Just a bit tired."
The old man's lips curled in a smile. "Understandable."
"Why do I feel so tired… I didn't…" He paused an instant to yawn impressively, barely managing to put a hand in front of his mouth, before continuing "…cast anything all that hard… sorry about that…"
"Forgiven," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in amusement for a bare instant. "The reason why is simple: Thinking books like these are created by the sacrifice and absorption of a part of one's magical essence and spirit. Normally, after being infused, the books are shut and cannot absorb anymore magic.
"However, it was very easy for Tom to unseal it so the diary, and in turn, he, would become more powerful, by absorbing your strength when your spell hit it." He gave a grin and chuckled, continuing: "I don't know what spell you have cast on it, but you seem to have given it an indigestion."
An amusing image of the little black book spewing its ink out in a toilet came to his mind. He barely resisted snorting.
"Now, Harry," Dumbledore continued, the mirth disappearing from his face. "Would you mind telling me exactly what happened in the chamber? We found the Basilisk in a pitiful shape, the diary of Tom Riddle in a worse one, and you and Miss Weasley taking a bare-stone mid-afternoon nap."
"Er…" 'I used a dark magic spell to make the basilisk smash its own skull and another one to banish Tom from the diary.' He thought wryly. 'If I tell him that, I'm pretty sure he'll want to lock me up.' "I… I can't remember." He lied, cursing himself for sounding so unbelievable.
"You told me you did not cast anything exhausting. That must mean you remember something." The old man pushed, his face furrowing in a frown.
Cursing himself and the old man for his observation skills, he quickly tried to find a way to cover his slip-up.
"I know I didn't… because… I don't know any really tiring spells!" He replied before mentally berating himself again. His enthusiasm at finding out a believable lie had seeped through his voice; if Dumbledore didn't see through it, he'd eat Crabbe's shirt.
For an instant, Dumbledore stared directly into his eyes. Harry was careful not to blink and not to look deceitful. When the old man turned away, there was no twinkle in his eyes. The boy felt like he had just had his mind read, but then pushed the thought aside as ridiculous.
"Well then, in that case, I recommend you stay in bed until Poppy lets you go, which may very well take a few weeks," the playful twinkle returned with a vengeance as Harry groaned in annoyance. "And I believe your friends will be delighted to know you're awake once again."
"How long was I out?" Harry asked.
"You've been in here for a day, now. Miss Weasley woke up some time before you, but she's been given dreamless sleep potion. I'm afraid she'll need some time to cope."
"Cope?" Harry wanted to sit up, but since his bones protested, he didn't manage to do more than weakly twitch his legs. "What's wrong with her?"
"I'm afraid she's taking the responsibility of the attacks quite personally." Dumbledore replied with a sigh, moving a bit to allow Harry to see the girl, laying in the neighboring bed at his left. He could see her face, eyes shut in deep sleep with nothing on her face to show any emotions at all.
"It wasn't her, sir, Riddle—"
"I am well aware of this. Ginny told me everything herself, and it stands with Tom Riddle's, or Voldemort's, usual methods."
Harry nodded in relief. "So she's…"
"She will not have to join Hagrid and care to the grounds." Dumbledore replied.
For the next few seconds, there was silence. Only the mild crackling of the burning torches prevented it from becoming oppressing. Dumbledore stared at him, as if to ask him if he had any questions. And Harry did.
"Riddle wanted me to attack Ginny." He remembered. "Why?"
"I suppose cursing her would have had the same effect as attacking the diary," Dumbledore guessed pensively. "Or, perhaps, it would have simply sped the process. I'm afraid life magic like this is not my strong point, and, unfortunately, Riddle took his secrets and reasons to the grave with him."
The boy nodded, sighed and relaxed his head, allowing it to roll on the pillow and letting him stare in the opposite direction for an instant…
…only to spot an occupied bed, on which a thoroughly bound figure was weakly struggling against the dozens of large, leather or rubber –Harry fancied he saw metal– belts holding whoever he was tightly down onto the bed. Scattered around the bed were large leather cases, open for all to see and revealing many pairs of lacy female underwear that Harry hoped were not of the man's normal wardrobe, and many pairs of colorful robes he recognized as Lockhart's were floating in the air, drawing the message: "All hail Gilderoy Lockhart: The PRAT 'teacher'".
Harry barely resisted bursting out into laughter as he recognized the muffled voice of Gilderoy Lockhart, seeping through the large conveyor belt – with a humorous caricature drawn where the imprint of the man's face was visible – blocking his face. "Who…"
"I believe Mrs. Zabini did not expect to see her daughter's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher trying to escape the school just after she got the news of the latest attack. Most unfortunately for him, she is the one who caught him. Mister Malfoy had the idea for the banderole, however."
Harry nearly burst out laughing again, but stopped a second later. "Mrs. Zabini is here?!"
Dumbledore nodded. "In this very room," he said as he pointed at Blaise's bed. Mrs. Zabini was sleeping soundly, her arms sprawled across the bed, her head lying on her daughter's rigid lap. "She categorically refused to leave Miss Zabini's side."
"How…" Harry began again, but Dumbledore, once more, interrupted him.
"How did she know you were in danger? She didn't." At his confused face, he continued. "She has placed danger-detecting charms on those custom-made wand holsters she gave you for Christmas. If, ever, one of you two is in danger, she is warned immediately. Not of your location, though – that could not be done on an object as small as this." He gestured to the holster lying on his bedside table, with his wand safely tucked in place.
Harry nodded. It made sense; she must have been warned as soon as Blaise had been attacked. Giving a look at Lockhart, he couldn't help but think her timing had been just right. Only one little thing bothered him.
"Is that," He pointed at the belts holding Lockhart in place, "all she did?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, it does seem rather mild, doesn't it?"
Harry nodded. The woman had gotten herself completely plastered in front of her daughter, in the house of people she had just met, for Merlin's sake! He knew she simply wouldn't satisfy her anger at his cowardice simply by tying him up, as exemplary as her technique had been.
"Actually, when she and Hagrid brought him here," Dumbledore continued, "he was shaped a bit like one of those Muggle crispers… er… Pratz… no, Pretzels, I believe."
Harry blinked. "You mean…" He imagined how it must have looked and burst out laughing, ignoring the muffled protests of the blonde man tied up a few beds away.
Sobering up, he couldn't help but wonder about something, and asked his headmaster: "There's a spell that does that?"
It would fit just nicely in his arsenal; that spell, coupled with the dancing jinx… He couldn't help a snigger at the thought.
"To my knowledge, no." Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling mischievously. "She always did prefer using the good old fashioned way."
Picturing Lockhart, trying to surrender while the fun-loving woman sat on the small of his back, grinning and twisting his legs around, sent Harry into another burst of mirthful laughs.
After a few seconds, he calmed down, though he could still feel his cheeks tugging at his lips. Soon, though, he relaxed and turned his attention to the old man.
Giving Harry a warm smile, Dumbledore got up.
"Now then, I believe I'll let you sleep, before Poppy decides that my skin would make a lovely welcome mat."
And, with that, the smiling old man left the room. As soon as he walked out, however, his smile disappeared.
***
Step 72: Two drops of armadillo bile, stir twice counter clockwise…
Severus Snape was not a man who made friends easily. Snappy, sarcastic and a tad antisocial – ok, make that a lot – he also tended to be secretive and resented to anyone stepping on what he considered was his personal space. He was a remarkable potion master, however, capable of brewing some of the most difficult potions known to man, and some who left even a man with a patience of steel and a sense of order worthy of a computer crying in frustration.
Step 73: Wait five and a half seconds, add three cubes of Asphodel roots cut in step 15…
Because, when it came to potions, Severus Snape had nothing to envy of computers, and his patience was made of diamond. When it came to potions, Severus Snape's devotion to his cauldron tended to hover around an obsession.
Step 74: *critical* Add only one (1) drop of basilisk blood. Counter: a pinch of unicorn fur for each superfluous drop, start over.
However, when Severus Snape was in this state, he had the temper of a wildcat and the social skills of a tree. And even then, some trees could claim to have better social skills, such as, for example, the Whomping Willow. Some would argue that was his normal state; the reason why was simple: during most of his classes, he had a potion bubbling somewhere.
Hence why, when Dumbledore burst into the room, causing the drop of exceedingly rare, freshly extracted ingredient to be joined by at least six others, he reacted in a disrespectful way that normally would have left him appalled.
"Merlin's hairy balls, Dumbledore!" He cursed, emptying his vial of unicorn fur in the dangerously bubbling mixture, causing it to calm down like a baby given a pacifier. "Ever heard of knocking?!"
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Turnabout is fair play, Severus. Besides, I would rather you wait until summer to try out extremely volatile potions with those Basilisk extract you picked up."
Then, with an irritatingly pleasant smile, Dumbledore mischievously added a frustrating: "And I don't think the enchanter would be… enchanted to hear you speak so of his family jewels, pardon the pun."
With a scowl that clearly showed how pardoned the old man was, Severus sighed as he spilled the wasted potion into a sink. "Is there any reason why you decided to bother me at…" a furtive look at the clock, "one in the morning? I could have been sleeping."
"You should have been sleeping." Dumbledore chastised, still smiling. "And the reason why I'm here is that Harry is your responsibility."
"Oh, no, not the 'You are being far too irresponsible for a man of your position, how dare you let Potter go by himself' rant again… McGonagall ran me through it twice already, even though I'm sure she would have done no better herself. Besides, I can hardly be blamed for the fact that he has the common sense of a lemming—"
"He's awake." Dumbledore interrupted.
"Oh," The younger man paused for an instant. "Is there any reason why you decided to inform me now?"
There was no smile this time. "I have good suspicions that Harry has been learning the dark arts."
Snape froze. The cauldron slipped from his fingers and fell in the bottomless pit, only to appear on his desk a second later, perfectly clean.
His voice slow and calm, a sure sign of dismay to those who knew how to read him, Snape asked: "He has… what?"
"He has been learning dark magic." Dumbledore repeated gravely.
"How do you know?"
"You know how I know."
Snape sighed and shot him a glare. "One day, you're going to have to learn to stop reading through people's minds like open books. It's extremely irritating and impolite, not to mention invasive."
He sat on his chair and took a look inside the cauldron, before frowning, getting up, walking to the sink and kicking its side impatiently. A metal stirring spoon shot out and was swiftly picked up in mid-air.
"Nevertheless," he continued gravely, returning to his seat, "if what you're saying is true, then..." he had no idea how to finish that line. The mere thought of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, the son of Lily Evans, becoming a dark wizard was simply preposterous, and took him completely by surprise. "How far along is he?" He finally asked.
"I have no idea, but he has been touched already."
The black-haired wizard's eyes widened. The touch of dark magic was like a stain to the soul, slowly corrupting the thoughts of its victim, until he or she could only use the dark side. And at that point, no other thoughts but bad feelings could come to the new dark wizard. Very few became totally corrupted, always keeping a touch of positive emotions in them… and, like a stealthy cobra, the victim never noticed the touch until it was too late.
Snape said some choice swear words. Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise.
"I retract what I said about Merlin. Zeus' entire family tree must be rolling in their tombs."
Ignoring the jest, Snape decided: "I'll tell him to stop—"
"If there is one thing Mister Potter takes from both his parents, it's his stubbornness." Dumbledore interrupted. "In fact, I believe he has the compilation of both of them. If you tell him to stop, he will simply ignore you and keep learning."
"He's my student. I know him better— He…He'll listen to reason, once I tell him about the tou—"
"He is not Lily." Snape flinched at the hard interruption. "You cannot gauge his reactions simply on what she would have done. He acts a lot like her, yes, but he has his father's impulsivity."
Snape growled, mumbled another curse involving the wretched Potter blood and glared at the old man. "What do you suggest?"
Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples tiredly. "Let him continue – at this point, it's too late to do anything. Besides, any additional weapon he can get to defend himself against Voldemort will be welcome. Watch him carefully and guide him to the best of your ability – if anyone can do it, it's you."
Spluttering, Severus got up and protested, "I couldn't even do it for myself, Headmaster, I can't…"
Dumbledore lifted a hand and interrupted him. This time, there was no retorting or protesting to the old man's tone of voice. "If anyone can help Mister Potter and stop him from turning against the light, it is you, Severus Snape."
With that, he got up and swept out of the room. Snape spent a few seconds staring at the shut door before he burst into more cursing.
Sometimes, he hated his job.
***
Harry was dancing around a beautiful dirt path zigzagging across an endless green field full of wild flowers and fluffy bunnies. Golden-leafed trees were growing along the path, throwing interesting shadows shaped like smiley faces on the beaten earth. Chocolate fountains lined the way, sending sweet smells all over the lands.
A strange-looking, handbag-carrying purple creature with a television screen on its stomach was heading toward him, its wide open arms inviting him in a welcoming hug. Taking a moment to pick up a BFG9000 that just happened to be lying there, on the side of the path, he sent the creature on a viridian one-way trip to oblivion. All was right once again. He found himself smiling as he walked by the smoking ashes of the… whatever that thing had been.
Saying hello to a skipping little girl carrying a cute, pink staff ending with a heart-shaped crystal, with long blue-green hair set in two ponytails held by little lilies, then nodding at the strange-looking brown furred creature that was following the girl and looked like a cross between a rabbit and a cat, he continued on his way, until he saw the trail end.
And then, he saw his mother, standing with Mrs. Zabini at her side, and two other blurry, black shapes behind her. The Italian woman smiled at him and opened her arms to welcome him. Her mouth opened and she spoke:
"WAKE UP!!"
The extremely loud bellow startled Harry out of his dream, causing him to sit up. Or at least, he would have, had the face of Ronald Weasley not been in the way. As their skulls impacted with a loud, bony 'clunk', he heard the unmistakable sniggering laugh of Draco Malfoy from his left, where he was sitting on the bedside chair.
Rubbing his smarting forehead and ignoring Ron's description of him as a certifiable illegitimate son of a dyslexic orangutan with a Bludger instead of a head, Harry shot an angry glare at his other friend.
"Do you mind, some people are trying to sleep."
"You've been sleeping for a day and a half, you lazy git," Draco retorted. "Even sleeping beauty there," he pointed at Ron with a lazy wave of his thumb, "never slept that long."
"What's this fascination with me getting clobbered…?" Ron wondered to himself while wincing at the pain on his forehead, before giving Draco a glare. "And I'm not interested, Malfoy."
"I was being sarcastic, Weasley. Don't flatter yourself." Draco snapped back.
"Thank you, Malfoy, you have no idea how reassured I am," the other boy retorted.
Chuckling at their antics, Harry gave a look at Lockhart; he was still there, still tied up, though he wasn't moving. The banderole was now decorated with the female undergarments, which surrounded the letters in multicolored silk or cotton clouds.
Mrs. Zabini was gone; the chair was still there and one could practically tell what the position of her body had been, just by seeing the folds in the blankets on top of Blaise's still form.
As for Ginny, she was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets of her infirmary bed.
"So, Ron, have you apologized yet?" Harry asked, pointing his thumb at Ginny.
"Er… no, I haven't had the time…" The red-head replied, his ears burning red in shame. "Madam Pomfrey said she woke up and told everything that happened, but then she had to get stuffed with dreamless sleep potion, so…"
"What an eloquent choice of words, Weasley." Draco drawled. "'Stuffed'. Clearly I underestimated your poetic talen—"
"Oh, shut your gob already." Ron snapped.
"Both of you, be quiet." Pomfrey snapped as she approached them briskly. "This is an infirmary, not a social gathering. With all that ruckus you made, I'm surprised you have not woken the victims yet!"
Ignoring his friends' current situation, Harry looked around the room.
It seemed Draco and Ron were the only people there, along with the victims, still lying in the beds in exactly the same way as before, Madam Pomfrey – who was now comparing Draco to a very loud peacock, causing the blonde boy to huff indignantly – Lockhart and Ginny, who…
…was staring at him. As soon as she noticed he was looking at her, however, she closed her eyes and feigned being asleep, though the effect was ruined by the subtle pinkish tinge in her ears.
Reassured, Harry smiled. She was all right. Dumbledore had told him so yesterday, but to be told and to see so were totally different things. Seeing Ron was in the room, and since he wanted to apologize, Harry took a quick decision:
"Good morning, Ginny," he said.
Both boys turned toward him before looking at Ginny, whose ears had taken an interesting shade of crimson as she still attempted to fake sleeping.
"Ginny?" Ron asked, walking around Harry's bed to go to her bedside. "Are you up?"
"No, Weasley. That position is called lying do—"
"Shut up." Ron sharply interrupted the other boy's drawl. Draco's mouth obeyed to the red-head's order with a painful-sounding clack.
With a few long-legged strides, Ron went to his sister's bedside. Ginny had apparently given up pretending to sleep and was now sitting up and looking directly in her brother's eyes.
"Er... Ginn...sis, er..." Ron began clumsily and Harry barely resisted a sigh. The typical Gryffindor bashfulness was at work once again. "Hermione asked... er... I mean... I wanted to... er... tell you… um… so… something."
With one hand, Harry quickly blocked Draco's mouth before the boy drawled something that would complicate things further. The smaller boy retaliated with a sour glare at having his favorite sport, Weasley-baiting, interrupted.
"Well, I'm listening," Ginny said, her voice cold, although Harry could see mirth glittering in her eyes.
"Uh, yeah, good… er…" Ron verbally stumbled, his hand scratching the back of his head nervously. Finally, he seemed to give up giving a speech and simply squeaked a quick: "Sorry!"
Ginny blinked theatrically, before frowning in fake confusion. "What did you say?"
"I said I'm sorry," Ron repeated more forcefully.
Pulling her body straighter, the girl shot her brother an angry glare as she drew a loud breath. "Ronald Brian Weasley," she began, her voice sounding a lot like a higher-pitched version of her mother's. "You have been an awful git to me all year long. You've ignored me when I needed help. You've disowned me and pushed me away like a stranger. Not only that, but you've also alienated Harry and Blaise, and you've been making Hermione angry. And now, you ask me to forgive you by saying 'Sorry'?"
"What should I do, then?" Ron asked.
'Hook, line and sinker,' Harry chuckled mentally.
Just as he had thought, he saw a victorious glimmer appear in the girl's eyes as she replied: "First, swear that you'll never push one of your or my friends – or family members – away simply because of their house placement."
Ron's head turned in Harry's direction and his eyes flickered to the black-haired boy's for a second, before looking back at Ginny.
"Fine."
"Swear." The girl growled.
With a dejected sigh, Ron said, "I swear."
"Then, swear that you'll apologize to Hermione and knock some sense into Percy."
"I swear." There was no hesitation in his voice; apparently Ron had intended to do the same.
"And finally," Ginny stretched the word teasingly, "Apologize to Harry, Blaise and Draco – yes, him too! And it's your job to tell mum what happened!"
"G-Ginny!!" Ron whined. Although whether it was because he didn't want to apologize to them or because he didn't want to face his parents about this, Harry didn't know.
The girl huffed and looked away from him. "Fine, then. Say hi to my brothers, Fred and George… do you know them?"
"Fine, I swear." Ron sighed miserably.
With a sunny grin replacing the falsely-gloomy expression she had had a few seconds ago, Ginny twisted around and ensnared her startled brother in a tight hug. After a few seconds, a loud sniff was heard.
"Er… Ginny? Are you ok?" Ron asked.
Harry did not manage to understand the mumbled reply – had she said "sorry"? – but he did see the girl's fists clenched against the fabric on the back of Ron's uniform twitching and trembling with silent sobs. For a few moments, Harry wondered if she was all right, but she soon released her brother and he managed to see her face; her smile had dimmed somewhat, but was still present, as if she was trying to decide between being sad and being happy.
Deciding that this had now become none of his business, Harry turned to Draco, who was looking at the two with an odd look on his face. Noticing the black-haired boy's attention, Draco smirked.
"The hero saves the damsel in distress, and everything is right once again…" He drawled, quite loudly to be heard by the two Weasleys, "but isn't the hero supposed to get the girl in the end? Besides, in case you don't know, incest is illegal down to first cousins."
"Shut up Malfoy!" Both red-heads snapped, their faces equally crimson.
In the end, Ron did apologize to them, and while Harry took it in stride, Draco spent a few minutes – ok, make that hours – rubbing the red-head's nose in the dirt. By the next morning, all three had taken strict resolutions: Ron would never apologize to Malfoy ever again, Harry would never let Ron apologize to Draco ever again, and Draco decided that being apologized to was really not all that bad after all.
Xu and Emma visited often, along with Draco and Ron – never together, though. Both Slytherins were quite grateful for the break of monotony they brought; Pomfrey, as good a matron as she was, certainly was not the best conversationalist, and apparently didn't care at all for any event or rumor going about the school. Emma, on the other hand, seemed to be fascinated with knowing everything that was going on, and gladly informed them both every time, for example, a funny class accident happened. Quite often, her words started with: "Do you know what Longbottom did yesterday?"
Harry did not see Mrs. Zabini again. Queries to Madam Pomfrey told him she had left back to her house in Little Whinging, as her husband had been worried enough to risk the Floo network to call Dumbledore; the Muggle man had been apparently apprehensive to voluntarily putting his head in a fire, green or not.
For the next few days, Harry and Ginny's life was one mostly of silence, of watching madam Pomfrey work around the infirmary, and of small, dispersed and crimson conversations. Crimson due to Ginny's face, of course; it seemed saving her life had, if anything, made her crush grow to the point that she could hardly tell him three words in a row without having her cheeks burn.
It was not until the next Wednesday that madam Pomfrey finally consented to let him leave the infirmary. Ginny, much to her displeasure, was not fit enough to get up yet, even though she felt fine. The matron had apparently decided that there was "no way anyone can fall under a total possession for a month and come out completely unscathed, much less an eleven years old girl!"
To ease her discomfort, Harry made sure he visited as often as he could. She didn't say or do much while he was there, but he knew she liked it, and not just because of her crush – he hoped.
Upon entering the great hall, Harry had gotten the honor of an ovation, much to his embarrassment. Everyone in the other houses cheered, and many Slytherins did also. However, he had seen one or two sour faces – blood purists, who had hoped the heir would finish his job, without harming any other Slytherins.
The ratios turned around when Dumbledore declared that, for "helping those in need and for having kept a cool head in the face of danger", Harry was to be awarded one hundred points for Slytherin. Harry soon lost track of the number of back taps he received, and didn't dare look at the murderous glares dominating the other tables.
A little detail nagged at his mind, however; he hadn't told Dumbledore about what happened, yet the old man seemed to know how he had acted. How strange… Did Ginny remember everything that had happened?
No. She would have acted at least a little differently after seeing him defeat the Basilisk with the Imperius curse – perhaps feared him a bit.
Perhaps Dumbledore really was a mind reader?
…
…Naa. He must have been guessing.
***
Classes started anew for Harry. Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons were cancelled, seeing as Lockhart was "unreachable". Nobody seemed to be aware that he was simply lying on a bed – not that he could do anything else – in the infirmary. Transfiguration lessons seemed unbearable, suddenly; the fact that, because of him, Slytherin would win the house cup with over one hundred and fifty points, seemed to make the teacher very sour and hacked at him.
Likewise, Herbology classes were hectic; the Mandrakes were almost mature, and once or twice every class, a pair of them had to be pulled out from behind bushes or other plants – sometimes quite risky ones – and replanted. It came to the point that Draco had dubbed the classes: "Herb-chaperoning"
Potions, which had become on of Harry's favorite classes over the year, suddenly took a turn for the… weird. Professor Snape was oddly subdued in classes, only once or twice giving in to his favorite hobby of Longbottom baiting. More than once, Harry caught the man staring at him, not with the barely concealed hatred he had been offered a year ago, but with a pensive, grim expression that left him nervous.
Quite honestly, he didn't know which one he preferred.
A week and a half later, on Friday, Professor Sprout burst through the doors of the great hall, and announced that the mandrakes were ready to be used in the potion. Preparing the doses took a day and a half, during which all access to any hallways around Professor Snape's classroom was forbidden, forcing many Slytherin to take long detours upon returning from classes.
On Sunday, Harry went to the infirmary, along with Draco and Ron. Most of the school's staff was present when he entered, except for Professor Snape and madam Pomfrey herself.
He spotted Filch on the first try, looking at his cat with an expression not unlike one would a priceless and fragile work of art. Quite honestly, Harry felt like the only exhibition Mrs. Norris could fit – yet not welcomed – into would be a yard sale.
McGonagall was standing stoically, alternating between impatiently staring at the clock and looking out of the nearest window every few seconds.
Professor Flitwick was talking to Ginny, who had not noticed their presence yet; she was giggling at what the diminutive teacher had said, but he couldn't tell what.
To his surprise, the Ravenclaw prefect who had slapped Percy, back in September, was there, cradling his glasses in her hands.
Harry nearly did a double-take when he saw Professor Sprout; her hands, normally encrusted with dirt were clean, and she did not wear the cheap, easily cleaned work clothes she usually did.
However, he did manage a double-take when he saw Mrs. Zabini, sitting at Blaise's bedside, once again.
"Mrs. Zabini?" He asked tentatively, scooting closer.
The woman gave Harry a small, strained smile. Her face was a bit weary, as if she had spent a good amount of time worrying. The boy almost didn't recognize her.
"Hey Harry," she said, nodding at him before turning back to Blaise, hiding her face from his view.
"Why are you here, er- I mean, not that you can't, but…" Harry stumbled for his words.
"I…I promised I'd be there for her."
Her voice was soft and sad, perhaps even wistful when she replied. Harry felt like he had stepped into something he had no place in, so he pushed down the question that was rising in his gut.
Soon after, Madam Pomfrey walked in, followed by a tray full of vials filled with an olive-colored potion and Professor Snape, who was pulling a floating and weightless cauldron behind him, bubbling with the same liquid. As if to test the potency of the potion, the matron spilled the first vial on top of Mrs. Norris' head.
The effect was immediate; the cat suddenly leaped in surprise, nervously looking everywhere, her drenched fur bristled in confusion, making her look like and oddly skinny and long-legged hedgehog. Satisfied, Pomfrey continued on, after giving a nod at a smug-looking Snape.
One by one, the victims were re-awakened, while the Bloody Baron was pushed inside the cauldron by Professor Flitwick, using a large fan conjured by McGonagall.
Finch-Fletchley screamed in horror as soon as he started to move. It took him several minutes to calm down enough to realize he wasn't in the corridor anymore, and a few more to see that he wasn't dead.
Creevey's finger twitched on the trigger of his absent camera, before he blinked in confusion and sat up.
Weasley tried to ask "what the—" but the Ravenclaw Prefect threw herself at him and started crying and babbling incoherently. He looked both like Christmas had come early and like the entire world had decided to put on polka colors without warning him.
Hermione blinked in confusion and sat up immediately. "Am I dead?"
She didn't get her reply – instead, Ron hugged her so tightly she had to hit his back and ask to breathe.
Blaise was next. She twitched and her left hand closed on air. For a few seconds, she stared stupidly at where her wand was supposed to be, before she was almost swept off the bed by her mother's sudden hug.
"M-MOM!!" She whined. "Leggo!!"
"Didn't I tell you to be careful?" The woman admonished, not letting go, much to the girl's chagrin.
"We were, we used a mirror—Sir!" She seemed to remember why she was in the room and quickly turned toward Professor Snape. "The monster—it's a Basilisk! And Ginny's—" She spotted the younger girl, a few beds away, and faltered, "-here… oh."
Ginny's smile vanished, replaced by a sorrowful frown. Harry bit his lip. Uh ho.
"What did happen, anyway," the Bloody Baron, restored to his silvery bloodiness, asked. "The last thing I remember is turning around and seeing a huge snake…"
"The Basilisk and the heir have both been permanently dealt with." Professor Snape declared, giving a look at Harry.
Hermione gave a look at Ginny, who was now looking down at the floor. She opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to rethink her words and gave up, instead giving a thoughtful gaze at Harry.
"A pity," Mrs. Zabini growled while her hand clenched around her daughter's arm. "I wouldn't have said no to giving him a piece of my mind—"
"My, what a dreadful concept," came a voice Harry heard every week, but in a tone he hadn't heard in about a year: Severus Snape's sarcastic and disgusted tone. "I believe it is all for the best that he died, then; we wouldn't want another… episode from you, would we."
The woman froze. Her body spun around to face the black-haired professor, her eyes glittering in barely contained anger, as Harry had seen back in Flourish and Blot's.
"Snape." She hissed venomously.
"Zabini." He replied on the same tone, which was something considering how he much preferred acting calm and cool.
For a few tense moments, Harry was certain both of them were about to break in a wizard duel in the middle of the infirmary. Blaise seemed to think the same, although she was grinning in anticipation – seeing her mother in action and quite possibly seeing Snape getting his arse kicked was something that apparently had appeal to her.
Fortunately, they were interrupted.
"Now, now, children, not now," Dumbledore chastised calmly as he entered the room.
He wasn't alone.
"Mom? Dad?" Percy said, seeing his parents enter.
"Percy? What are you doing here?" Mr Weasley asked.
"Ginny!" Molly Weasley gasped as soon as she spotted her, bursting into a run from behind the old wizard to hug her only daughter tightly. "Thank goodness! We were so worried, the clock—"
Harry blinked. Clock? What clock?
Ah, right, the one in their living room, which indicated the status of everyone in the family. They had probably seen Ginny's switch to Mortal danger—
…but what about Percy? Mr Weasley apparently didn't know about the whole petrification thing, he seemed quite surprised to find his son in a bed.
And why hadn't they come as soon as they had seen it? Mrs. Zabini had charged in almost as soon as she had learned about Blaise, after all.
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, interrupting the witch and the now very embarrassed girl, and clapped his hands once. "Well then, how is everybody feeling?"
There was a half-hearted chorus of "I'm allright"s or similar phrases.
"Good, good. Minerva, Filius, Pomona, Severus, please escort your students back to their common rooms – except for misters Potter and Frederic, George, Percival and Ronald Weasley, and miss Weasley."
"I'll do it myself." Mrs. Zabini put in from Blaise's bedside, giving a glare at Snape, who glared back.
"Fine," Snape snapped, "it's not like I want to spend more time than I have to with your little brat."
Mrs. Zabini bristled, her fist clenching around her wand - which Harry could have sworn had seemed to just… appear there. Blaise's eyes narrowed and a low growl came from her throat. At that moment, nobody in the infirmary had any doubt that the woman was her mother: they were downright identical. Fortunately, Dumbledore stepped in again, reminding Professor Snape that he had a potion or another bubbling away in his quarters.
The next time the door of the infirmary closed, only Harry and the Weasleys were left, with Dumbledore and Pomfrey watching over them. For a few seconds afterwards, a dam of silence seemed to build, as everyone waited, staring at Percy – who had just gotten up from his bed – and Ginny – who had taken an interestingly pale shade of cherry.
Then, the dam burst.
Questions, sounds and words were sent suddenly, almost on common accord, by every red-head in the room, to every other. Harry blinked and tried to make sense of it, and apparently he wasn't the only one; Ginny quickly ducked under her blankets while Pomfrey clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Dumbledore merely sighed.
"One at a time, perhaps?" Dumbledore said, his calm voice somehow managing to be heard above the cacophony.
Seeing the Weasley children being sheepish was something Harry had seen once or twice. However, seeing the elders looking chastised was something else entirely.
'Right. Dumbledore must have been a teacher even way back then,' Harry supposed. Old habits die hard, after all.
There were a few more seconds of sheepish silence before Mr. Weasley decided to ask: "Er, Percy, why are you here?"
"W…W—I… er…"
"He was petrified," Harry replied for him, earning a shocked look from both parents and from the victim himself.
"He was what?!"
"I was what?!"
"How come you didn't know?" One of the twins asked his parents, giving them a look. "I mean, the clock—"
Harry absentmindedly nodded. He had been asking himself the same thing.
"The clock said he was "at school", all the time, like the rest of you… must be broken—"
"No, I don't think it was," Dumbledore interrupted. "Your clock probably switched to mortal danger, for the few seconds when the attack took place, but once it was done, mister Weasley was not in danger, nor was he dead; the clock simply switched for the closest truth; that he was at school."
Both twins went "oh".
"Shouldn't you have known when the clock had switched?" Harry asked.
Mrs. Weasley nodded with a frown. "We should have…"
"Unless… When did he get attacked, anyway?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"November seventh," Dumbledore replied.
The two parents shared a look. "November… is it…?" The woman asked.
"Yeah," Mr. Weasley sighed. "It was that day Amos got a raise and wanted to celebrate. We were at the Diggory's all night long."
Yes, that would prevent them from seeing the clock shift. Perhaps they just hadn't seen Ginny's, too--
"And what about Ginny? The clock went to mortal danger for almost four hours!" Mrs. Weasley asked, her hand finding Ginny's arm underneath the blanket.
"You saw that? How come you come here sooner?" Harry asked bluntly.
"We would have come here faster, but the guy in charge of the paperwork to allow us to come here took a sick leave for two weeks because he needed new glasses… something about a madwoman going ballistic, didn't catch her name..." Mr. Weasley trailed off, looking pensive.
"So, what happened to her?" Mrs. Weasley repeated her question in a hard tone.
"Ron, that's your call!" The twin that had yet to speak chirped with a cheerful grin. "Go ahead!"
"Don't forget, you swo~ore!" The other twin sang.
Ron's ears reddened as he suddenly found himself the center of attention. At that moment, he seemed to be berating himself for ever swearing to something like that.
"Ron, I can do it…" Ginny proposed, but her mouth suddenly found itself blocked by one of the twins' hands. "MPh!! Phhed!!"
"We're waiting, Ron!" 'Fred' cooed, grinning.
"Er… ok…" Ron took a deep breath and launched himself: "It started when Ginny got sorted."
Harry saw both parents' eyes go to the girl's house badge. Ginny's face, though half-hidden by her brother's hand, had clearly turned red again.
"Slytherin?" Mr. Weasley said, blinking.
"Oh." Mrs. Weasley simply said, turning toward Ron. "And?"
"W-Wh… but, I mean… you're not… surprised?!" The youngest boy stumbled.
"Oh, of course I am," the Weasley matriarch replied calmly. "But it's hardly the first time that happens."
"Right, my own great-grandmother had been a Slytherin." Mr. Weasley declared.
"She had been a Black, too." Mrs. Weasley reminded her husband.
"Hm… you're right." The man nodded, before turning to Ron. "And, what happened next?"
The next few minutes were not happy ones. As soon as they heard about what the boys had done, Mrs. Weasley's face took an interesting tint, probably called "irate red number 15" by cosmetic companies. Upon hearing what Percy had said, though, Harry felt pretty sure the woman would spontaneously combust.
Fifteen minutes of yelling later, Percy was sulking in the proverbial corner and Harry, once his ears had stopped ringing, wondered if, perhaps, Mrs. Weasley had a bit of banshee ancestry. Ron resumed his story on a much more nervous voice, skipping over his and Hermione's… 'disagreement' in the library, when she had slapped him… and taking a running leap over the whole Jusenkyo incident – much to the twins' disappointment.
"And Ginny didn't get any help from any of you for the whole year?!"
"She did have people to speak to," Dumbledore corrected, indicating Harry. "Mister Potter, Miss McKinnon, Miss Chang and Miss Zabini were most helpful, from what I heard."
Harry gave the old man a frowning look. 'From what I heard'?
…ah, right. Probably Professor Snape; it was his job, after all, to make sure the students in Slytherin were all right. He was probably spying on the whole situation.
"So, she went to you for comfort, hmm?" Mrs. Weasley asked, giving a pointed look at Harry; a look that held a dose of… motherly protectiveness to it. It felt a bit unnerving.
"Um…" Harry didn't quite know how to react and found himself taking a step back.
"Not quite, unfortunately." Professor Dumbledore rescued the grateful Slytherin boy, a grave air on his face. "Miss Weasley did not want to worry her friends, after all, so, at first, she went to Professor Snape. Isn't that right?"
Ginny nodded meekly, while the twins' mouths gaped in horror.
"Snape?!" "The bloo—"
"Hey!" Ginny snapped. "I'll have you know Professor Snape can be very nice when he wants to!"
"'When he wants to' being the operative term, here." One of the twins said, the other agreeing with a silent, grave nod.
"If I may continue," Dumbledore cut in, eyes twinkling and letting the jab at one of his staff pass, "as I mentioned, at first she went to Professor Snape. And then, she found Tom."
"Tom?" Mr. Weasley repeated blankly. "Who…?"
"More precisely, it was the memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle, hidden in his diary."
From then on, Dumbledore took the conversation, explaining – from educated guesses, Harry could tell – what had happened. As he already knew all this, the Slytherin allowed himself to look about the room, at the reactions of those present.
Ron allowed himself a relieved sigh at having his part of the story finished and plopped down on the nearest seat he could find.
The twins were listening on each side of Ginny, their expressions devoid of their usual grins.
Percy was staring at his sister, as if not quite believing what had been going on.
Harry understood – to him, he had been waiting in front of the Ravenclaw common room to apologize to his girlfriend and the next thing he knew, he was in the infirmary(?) and she was crying on him(?!?) and telling him how glad she was that he was all right(Ok, who decided to put England on the south of the Earth this week?!).
As for the parents, they stared at Ginny, the woman with a wide-eyed, horrified stare, the man with a frown.
"Ginny, didn't I teach you anything?!" He admonished. "Didn't I always tell you not to trust something that can act and think by itself unless you can see where it keeps its brain! You should have showed that book to one of your Professors; it could only have been activated by dark magic!"
"B-But…" Ginny tried to defend herself, but Harry could see how this was messing her up pretty badly. No doubt that the last thing she wanted was to be reminded of her mistakes.
"I'm afraid she's taking the responsibility of the attacks quite personally."
Right. There was no way this could help. Quickly thinking of some way to distract them, he spoke:
"It wasn't her fault things got so bad."
"What do you mean?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry found himself on the receiving end of nine curious stares, including Pomfrey's and Dumbledore's.
Steeling himself, he continued, "I wrote in it once. If I had warned Professor Snape, he would have taken it away and—"
"And you wanted to catch the heir, even back then." Dumbledore interrupted. "You believed Riddle knew who the heir was, thus, you wouldn't have just handed it away."
Harry froze. That was true. On hindsight, however, it was a pretty stupid move.
"And what happened next?" Mrs. Weasley asked Dumbledore. "Did Harry find Ginny, or…"
"Riddle took her down into the chamber…" And once again, the old man launched himself in the story, taking the children and the parent's attention. Harry spared a look at Ginny, who was smiling shyly at him. As soon as she noticed he was looking, though, she took an interesting color of red and looked away.
'She must be grateful that I tried to take some of the blame,' Harry hazarded a guess.
"You mean… Riddle was You-know-who?!" Ron gasped in horror, startling Harry into listening to Dumbledore again.
"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. The other Weasleys were just as aghast as the youngest boy. "Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school ... traveled far and wide ... sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."
"I was in the same room as he was…" Ron mumbled, apparently in shock.
"I told all my secrets to You-Know-Who?!" Ginny nearly shrieked.
"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore replied to both of them.
"But he's gone, now." Harry quickly put in, seeing Ginny's stricken face. "The diary, I mean."
Percy seemed on the verge of starting to ramble. "B-But… er… she won't be… y'know… punished? I mean, it wasn't her fault—"
Dumbledore calmly interrupted him by lifting a hand.
"There will be no sanctions. Older and wiser magi have been fooled by Voldemort in the past." Ignoring the cringes and winces from the red-heads, he continued, "now, Harry and I will leave you all to mingle; I believe you have a lot to tell each other."
Gently, the old man tapped Harry's shoulder, and the two walked out of the infirmary, leaving a reunited family to celebrate a happy ending.
Author's notes:
Gah. I re-started this chapter from scratch three times, then retyped the Weasley reconciliation scene five times.
The problem comes from the fact that I wrote five fast-paced, action-packed chapters, and now I'm forcing myself to slow down, a bit like a race car with cheap brakes. Once or twice, I wrote the same part of the scene twice at different places, but both had actions that made the scene progress and I was kinda stuck.
Result, the action is rough. This is what happens when I don't plan properly. T_T
The purple creature with a television on his stomach? What do you think that horror could be? ^_-
And the BFG9000? Just the ultimate weapon of the old game "Doom". I don't know what BFG stands for, but I say it's "Big F*king Gun". I love making dream sequences ^.^
LONG chapter… gah. It didn't want to end; I wanted to get through the explanations to the Weasleys, but I noticed just a bit too late the problem I had caused by accident; By having Harry be a bit more observant and more suspicious of Riddle, there was no way this would have lasted all the way to where the original canon went.
Therefore, I cut it off at the Quidditch game. Problem is: the mandrakes. There was no reason for them to mysteriously grow faster. And I wanted Percy to be included in that scene, since explaining things to him later, without his parents present, would have been a bit harder. The last thing I wanted was to stretch his characterization (which I already did at the start of this book, IMO).
I COULD have just said that the mandrakes somehow grew faster… I'm the author after all…
…but that would be breaking canon. Even a chip off it is too much, in my book.
That's me, the perfectionist. Sue me.
On the bright side, though, you got an extra long chapter… that says about nothing. Gah. Sorry 'bout that. I'll handle book 3 better, I promise. Book 2's holding me by the throat, right now. Can't wait to be finished with it.
I wanted to add a few scenes (Dumbledore, Hagrid and Elmira VS Fudge and Malfoy, for one) but time simply was not on my side, and Harry was still out like a light. Putting them at the start of the chapter seemed like cheating; there was no way Elmira could meet with Fudge and Malfoy without having a load of sparks fly, and Harry wouldn't know about those sparks. I'm not revealing anything without Harry (or anyone of the gang) knowing unless it's for suspense.
Like for the scene at the start. As for who the hell is Clarissa Noire… well, that's a secret. ^_-
Less people than I thought understood why Harry survived… guess I'll explain it next chapter; this one is long enough.
Next chapter: The epilogue. What's in it? Well, that's… a secret. Harry's diary makes a great comeback, so does the lexicon. And doubts arise between the best of friends…
…gah. Well, to me, it sounds obvious. Oh well.
ANSWERS TO THE PRETZEL-SHAPED REAL-LIFE-SIZED BARBIE DOLL HOLDING A BLOODY CHAINSAW OVER THE REVIEWERS' HEADS:
Flummox: (To 2/3 of the review) Glad you liked it. Were you high when you read it? Just a question ^_-. I could just picture Harry deciding that his wand would be more efficient as an eye-poker… Hmm… Kuno Kodachi… Lord Voldemorte? Ohh, scary concept ^_-. What makes you think he can't dance around on wild flowers and fluffy bunnies? Erm!! I MEAN IN A FIELD… oh, whatever. Sounds better to dance on 'em anyway. Fine, then: Lions are murderous little buggers… *RAOWR!* …meep. LOL about the tentacles! Watch it, this isn't going to turn to smut… just 'cuz I haven't found a way to cross La Blue Girl on it, too… ^_- Just kidding.
Athenakitty: *twitch*
Anon e Mouse Jr: Sirius will NOT be the worst ^_-.
Eriee: I know, I was kidding ^_-. Ah, so you can speak german (if only a bit). Interesting.
BF110C4: I simply could NOT make a repetition. Too many things are different, including Harry. Thank you for pointing that out… yes, now that I think about it, I *could* have added a few scenes. And no problem about the last chapter. I understand busy. A lot. ^_-
ZeonReborn: That's… well, I didn't want it to be a secret, but it just wouldn't have fit anywhere.
Blackheart Syaoran: Glad you liked it, hope you liked this one? *falls on his knees* PLEASSSSEEEEE!! jk ^_-
Mirie: Damn right I am ^_^ and damn proud of it!! No it's not. I hold the canon like a bible, and as amusing as Severitus fics are, I don't think it's really likely. *Nods at Saerry Snape for a mighty good one, though*. And no it's not. *Points at the second fall* Harry LOST his glasses there!! And if it was only something to do with blurry vision, Myrtle would still be alive, would she? ^_- Same here, same here…
Risty: *blink* Erm… *goes to plan Fawkles' introduction* He's not even here… gak. *Pictures Harry crowing at the sun* *snorts*
Earthgoddess1: Thanks. And the lexicon, well… it's a secret.
Szelij: tsk tsk… bad Ron-hater. Actually, I happen to like Ron. He's an interesting case. A case of what, though, that's the question. ^_-
Jester: *buzz* WROOOONG!!
W'rkncacnter: Maybe. Did Dauphin update?! *checks if the sky is burning* Hmm… well, it IS a bit red… *goes to check* Aww, had already checked that one… *grumbles*
Devonny Rose: *ding ding ding!!* Good guess ^_- The second one is dead wrong, though… Well, here you go.
Dragonsprincess: Heh. It did the same to me, actually. I guess I just wanted to break off the overly serious mood of the chapter… ^_-
Jedi Buttercup: Maybe Riddle is wrong, and he's actually Gryffindor's heir? (*gets clonked by the almighty cannon*) Ah, right. Parselmouth. Never mind. Besides, shame on you for ever thinking I'll go with the tendency! ^_-
RaistlinofMetallica: *Bzzt!* Wrong!! And no problem for the torture instruments, we have plenty down here. Where? Where else do you think a Demon Lord lives, eh?! ^_-
Watcher Tale Neith: Well, I hope you liked the Snape scene in this one, then ^_-
Ranchan17: Thanks. I've been thinking of a weird crossover (that's actually possible): Post-Hogwarts Harry Potter, Card Captor Sakura and Ranma… Whether I decide to type it myself or I just leave the idea (for all to take (with credits to me ^_-)) on the group remains to be seen… I'll probably just leave it down. Avada Kedavra and Crucio, eh? Well… *looks in plans* *chortle* Blurring fast? *twitch* for a snail, perhaps. It just did not want to write itself.
Lunawolf: Well… I guess you'd be partly right. ^_- I just CAN'T WAIT for book 3!!!
Miles militis ab perditio: …cuz.
Cory3: Yes I did ^-^
SykoShippo: Ah, so you speak German, eh? So it's Spirit-death magic, hm? Didn't know that. The way you write it, German's almost like Japanese. I was cracking up in half that chapter, too. Crossing Ranma into this was a pretty good idea ^_-. You… haven't read it…? Go. Read it now. It's an order. Well, here you go, the end is in sight. One more chapter ^_-.
*Added note* Thanks for the help in next chapter ^_-
Lotus Myst: Eek, guess you didn't like this one, then… *shrug* can't always make them active… Why? Now that… is a… well... it's not really a secret anymore, since Dumbledore babbled it out… I've seen longer reviews, *points at Flummox and Shireen McLean*
Simply Myself: He has been acting a bit… pardon the pun, but bitchy lately, doesn't he… Keeps stopping me when I try to Akumize a review… Tsk, tsk… close, but not quite.
Hitmanhand: *Blushes* heh, thanks. I like how I've worked Hermione and Ron in it, too ^_-
Black-rose1212: No he's not going to be. I can assure you of that. A bit confused, but not evil.
Nobody: Actually, that was more like Riddle casting Avada Kedavra through Ginny's body. She was not in control. I KNOW it's not an easy hex ^_-
Serpent of light: Book 3 will feature a LOT of Mrs. Zabini. Especially early.
