The next six weeks almost kept the five too busy to worry about the basilisk. Almost.
Each of their schools remained tense, as if the students were preparing for another attack. Many probably were. No one worried about that prospect more than Rose Potter, because her best hope of finding the Chamber of Secrets would be to have Ginny (still under the diary's control) stage another attack. If and when that happened, she'd have to reveal the chamber's entrance - at which point, Rose could take the diary and summon the Headmaster to deal with the monster.
None of them had any interest in dealing directly with an ancient basilisk of unknown size.
They continued to search for Riddle's first victim, hoping that it might be a clue. Contemporary records showed that a student had died at the school in 1943, and even identified the student as a member of Ravenclaw house. To Rose's annoyance, however, it seemed that the wizards in power at the time chose to keep the student's name and cause of death a secret. She understood this on one level - it was at the height of Grindelwald's War, and having a magical creature unleashed on Hogwarts while the great Albus Dumbledore was still nominally a professor could indeed have started a panic.
For now, Rose had few options. She had managed to tag Ginny with a tracking charm on the girl's wand, which proved less useful that she had hoped. If she knew more about charms and spellcrafting, Rose would have attempted something more complex - she was of a mind to be notified if Ginny wandered the halls alone, or at certain times, both of which would be a sign of a possible attack. With what she read in a third year textbook, however, she was limited to a spell that would show the target's footsteps. It would work for tracing Ginny's path through the castle, and possibly to the chamber, but only after the fact.
Between the charm, and simply keeping eyes on Ginny when possible, Rose was optimistic. The other four had no choice but to share that optimism, as they found themselves relying entirely on the slytherin to manage her task.
No one mentioned that they were on a clock. Spellforged expected the basilisk to get hungry before the end of the year, which meant an attack. Could it get out of the castle? Probably - in which case there would be a basilisk roaming the grounds. If not, the beast would be in one of the castle's hallways. Neither of those scenarios appealed to anyone.
The tension inside the castles was not helped by their Defense classes. Chaser's tales of the interesting and incredibly useful spells his class was learning from Professor Knight just made things worse. In a burst of frustration, Spellforged one night found himself asking Chaser for a summary of his class notes. Chaser happily obliged him, and found himself highly amused that he actually got to teach the ravenclaw something. Spellforged had responded by grumbling in the Goblin Tongue, getting chuckles from the group.
Soon, the second years in all five worlds were working from Professor Knight's course outline. Rose's study group was baffled, and her explanation that she had gotten the notes from an upper year student was unconvincing at best. Hermione figured she was being proactive, given the tension between her and Draco. Susan, meanwhile, was impressed with her dedication to the subject, and figured out (correctly) that the notes had come from a former auror. Fortunately, the professor who had taught the current seventh years in their second year had been an auror, so Rose went with the convenient story.
Seeker wondered what Professor Knight would say, if she knew. Chaser responded that she would probably ask for a pay raise, seeing as she was doing five times the work.
Marigold shared the notes with her group as well - Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Hermione, as with her counterparts, wanted to know more about where the notes came from, but the same explanations that Rose had come up with seemed to satisfy her curiosity. To Marigold's surprise, it was Neville who first mastered the shield charm, though he needed to work on adding power to strengthen the shield. Hermione and Marigold both suspected that the boy's legacy wand was part of the problem, and resolved to discuss it with him that summer.
oOoOoOoOo
There there, my dear, that wasn't so hard, was it?
Tom, you know I can never stand to see her eat like that.
It can't be helped, Ginevra, and you know this. She can't go much longer than a few months without food, and only because her magic sustains her. Even waiting for Valentine's Day was pushing that limit, you saw how ravenous she was.
I know. But we needed everyone distracted. Still...
….You have doubts. I thought we had gotten past this, Ginevra.
Don't be mad, Tom, please.
I'm not mad, but I need you to understand how important our work is for the world.
I just don't feel like I can do this anymore, Tom.
….Ginevra, do you know why we keep feeding Finola? Why we don't just put her back into her enchanted sleep?
Tom, you're hurting me.
Finola is a tool, Ginevra. Nothing more. My ancestor left her in the school, hidden in his chamber, waiting for the day when we would cleanse the castle of the filth it had accumulated. Now is the time, Ginevra.
Tom, I can't…
You don't even need to write in the diary anymore, did you realize that? You're standing there, cowering in a toilet, afraid to do what is necessary to wield the power at your fingertips. And I'm there beside you, guiding you. You owe me, for granting you such a boon.
Tom…
Finola is a tool, Ginevra Weasley. Just like you. One does not allow their tools to go to waste.
No!
oOoOoOoOo
Valentine's Day came and went with Rose taking very little notice. She received no valentines, and expected none, but several older students (including some outside of Slytherin!) wished her a pleasant Valentine's Day, which amused her. Daphne got a laugh out of the situation as well, and Rose could already see the wheels turning behind those blue eyes. She knew that, in years to come, Daphne would likely take her duties as matchmaker quite seriously. Tracey Davis, having seen the same look, told Daphne to be careful, as setting Rose up with anyone against her wishes would probably result in Daphne hanging from the ceiling by her big toe. Her chuckles softened the warning, and Daphne knew that she was only half-serious.
The day was much like any other Sunday, it seemed, right up until Madam Pomfrey asked her to join her in the infirmary after lunch. Daphne and Rose shared a look, for neither of the girls had any idea what was going on. Had there been another attack, it would have been Snape or McGonagall who summoned her, not the school's medi-witch.
In Madam Pomfrey's office, Rose found a crate of potions. Each small vial had a slightly-cloudy mixture inside. The stoppers on each vial had the potioneer's mark and number, to track quality and provenance. On the side of each potion, a small label identified the contents as MRD. Rose raised an eyebrow at this, her eyes lifting to meet Pomfrey's.
"Mister Filch tells me that the case just came in, containing twenty-four doses of Mandrake Restorative Draught." Madam Pomfrey held up a letter. "This came with the shipment." She handed the letter over to Rose, who opened it. It consisted of a short, printed message.
My sources suggest that these might come in handy this year. Use them well.
Potions courtesy the Myrtle Warren Memorial Fund
Underneath that text was a simple, handwritten signature.
-PR
"Professor Snape," continued the medi-witch, "suggests that this was provided by someone in your family's employ, Miss Potter." She tapped the signature. "Does the Potter Family employ a regent, perhaps?"
Rose's mind was racing. The regent knew about the petrifications, clearly. They also suspected that there would be more to come, which was worrisome. It was the source of the funds that caught her eye, though.
"We do have a regent, as it happens," said Rose, cautiously. "It was established through the Goblins and my family's old solicitor. But I've not spoken to the man in some time." Madam Pomfrey didn't need the details, nor did she need to learn about Rose's ignorance as to the regent's identity. Instead, she held up the letter. "Who was Myrtle Warren?"
Pomfrey had begun unloading the crate, inspecting the vials to make sure none had broken in transit. "Poor girl, she was a ravenclaw who died in her fourth year. The story goes that she was killed when another student's creature got out of control. The student in question was caught by the Head Boy and expelled, I believe."
Rose worked hard to keep the look of shock off of her face. "Early 1940's, perhaps?"
Pomfrey nodded, not looking up from her work. "Oh, yes I believe it was." She thought for a moment, before continuing. "You know, Professor Dumbledore might-" She looked up, only to find her office empty.
In the corridor, Rose was walking as fast as she could, so as to avoid attracting attention. There was a long, wide hallway that led from the infirmary to the great hall, running almost the length of the castle. It was the same hallway that saw Filch's cat petrified on Halloween. It was the same hallway where Ginny first wrote the Heir's warning. It was the same hallway that once again seemed to be flooding. As she approached, she saw a steady stream of water flowing out of the girl's restroom. The same one with its own ghost.
A ghost named Moaning Myrtle.
I think I've found the entrance, thought Rose. Holding her wand in her palm, she whispered a Point Me charm, hoping to see if Ginny was nearby. To her surprise, the wand pointed directly at the bathroom door. Ginny is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and I think Myrtle is the girl who died in 1943.
Be careful, she heard Seeker respond, over the link.
Her wand out, Rose stepped quietly into the bathroom. The room seemed empty, except for a quiet sobbing from one of the stalls. As she approached, she heard a girl swearing.
Rounding the corner, Rose found Ginny Weasley desperately attempting to shove something into the toilet.
"Ginny?"
Ginny spun around and saw Rose, her eyes growing wide in horror. She had all of the mannerisms of someone who had just been caught red-handed at something. Rose noticed that she was shaking, and stepped forward.
"Ginny, it's ok, you're alright now." Rose stepped closer, and the dam broke. Ginny stumbled toward her, still shaking. It took all of her will to suppress a shudder as Ginny hugged her, clinging onto the slytherin for dear life. The sobs were coming quickly now, and Rose could tell that Ginny was an absolute wreck. Awkwardly, Rose patted her on the back, holding her tightly.
"Shhh, it's ok Ginny, it's over now, I've got you." The girl continued to sob as Rose tried to calm her. Over the link, she spoke to the others. She was trying to stuff the diary down a toilet. She might have broken free on her own.
Maybe, replied Spellforged. My Ginny still tried to stun her brother, even when she wasn't holding the diary, so be cautious.
Of course, Rose said. As she stood there hugging Ginny, she stepped to the side. This rotated the pair, so that Rose was now between the diary and its victim.
"I told you she would help," a high voice called out from inside the bathroom. Rose turned, and saw the ghostly form of a dark-haired ravenclaw girl floating towards them.
Ginny sniffled at the comment, but said nothing. Rose looked at her and nodded. "Myrtle Warren, I presume?"
Myrtle looked pleased at the recognition. "Finally, someone who wants to hear my story."
Rose gave her a smile. "Once I have Ginny sorted, Myrtle, I promise to come back and listen to your story. Can I bring friends?"
That seemed to be the correct thing to say, for Myrtle's face lit up at the proposal. "Oh, yes! Please!"
Another nod. "Done. Thank you for helping Ginny, Myrtle." She watched as the still grinning ghost floated through a wall, leaving them alone. Rose looked down at Ginny, who was wiping her eyes and looking fearfully up at the slytherin.
As her tears subsided, Ginny spoke. "What happens now?"
"Now," said Rose, "you may want to clean yourself up a bit, and then we'll go down and chat with Madam Pomfrey to make sure you're alright."
Ginny nodded, and turned around to look at herself in the mirror. She was shocked to see how pale she had become, how worn. If the diary was doing this to her… if Tom was doing this, then perhaps it was better to be rid of the book once and for all. Reaching up, Ginny began straightening her robes. Something whispered to her, something she had forgotten, just at the back of her mind. On impulse, she looked into the mirror and saw Rose bending over the toilet.
"And the diary?" Ginny found herself asking.
"I think your brother Bill can get it looked at by the Goblins," Rose said, as she examined the now soaked book. "Once they figure out what it is, they'll probably destroy it. And that will be that." On a whim, Rose cast her mage sight. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw how utterly black the soul magic in that diary seemed to be.
She did not subscribe to the traditional thinking about light and dark magic. Even so, she knew that there was magic so dark that it could be nothing other than evil - and she was looking at it right now. If magic was intent given form, then this diary was nothing more than pure, concentrated malice.
"Destroy it?" asked Ginny, in a quiet voice.
Rose saw the sheer power of the diary, appalled at the very existence of such a thing. She did not hear the uncertainty in Ginny's voice. Nor did she see the arc of magic tethering the diary to its victim.
"Probably," replied Rose. "I suspect they won't want to leave it be, once they are done with it." Something about the book seemed to command her attention, and she found that she could not tear her eyes from it. She ran a finger across the gold lettering, that bold T M Riddle across the cover.
"I see," was the reply. Gone from Ginny's voice was any trace of warmth or worry. Rose's eyes grew wide, and she looked toward the mirrors - just in time to see the red light of Ginny's stunner.
A/N: A short chapter to keep things moving. Updates may slip to two weeks apart over the course of the next month or so. That's the problem with keeping up a brisk update schedule - eventually life intervenes.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
