The crowd was buzzing. Why hadn't they started the match yet? The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams were just milling around the goal posts, and Madam Hooch was standing at the center line conferring with Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. They looked grave.

Victoria nudged Nathan towards the scene below. He looked concerned too.

"You don't think something's happened to him?" she asked nervously, "Eddie?"

Nathan squinted at the gaggle of Hufflepuff players. "Can't be sure. I can only count six, but it can be any one of them, right?" He looked fearful. "Let's just wait and find out."

After a quarter of an hour, an announcement was made that there had been another attack.

The Fateful Eight's expressions changed from one of concern and fear to one of dread when Professor McGonagall whipped out a megaphone.

"This match has been cancelled," she addressed the chattering crowd. Oliver Wood tried to protest, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. She then beckoned the Fateful Eight to follow her. They knew what had happened.

She strode briskly into the hospital wing, with the remaining six of the Fateful Eight trailing meekly behind her.

Eddie lay frozen like a stone and on all fours, like a dog. Clearly, he had tried to escape the basilisk when he was petrified. He must have fallen, slipping on the nearby puddle. Now, two of their family had been attacked, and they knew that Voldemort knew. They were being targeted.

"Um, Professor?" Natalie squeaked, still in her Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

"Yes, Miss Rogers?" Professor McGonagall barked, turning around to look at her.

"Um, would it be alright if we go and — er — talk to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Quite, Miss Rogers," McGonagall replied, with the hint of a smile. Natalie beckoned the rest of them to follow her.

The Transfiguration professor had told them the password — "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum." Up the stairs, they knocked on the Headmaster's door, and were greeted with the usual "Enter."

Natalie wrenched open the door and found the celebrated wizard facing the portrait of Armando Dippet with his hands clasped, clearly in conversation with his predecessor. She wondered momentarily whether Dumbledore seeked advice on the course of action, since the late Headmaster Dippet had dealt with this situation in 1942.

He slowly turned towards the teenagers.

"I must say, I was almost expecting you — especially following the attack on Mr. Edward Pattinson. I could not help but observe that it remains his commitment to loyalty and friendship that, among many other things, has been a core factor in holding your group together. Thus this attack was, naturally… alarming to you all."

Dumbledore seemed to be muttering to himself, strolling leisurely in his chamber.

"Yes, yes, in contrast to the bold Gryffindor or the cunning Slytherin, it turns out that here we have the principles of Hufflepuff, widely considered 'softer', to effectively cement the team together…"

The six pupils were apparently forgotten.

"Would any of you like to have a lemon drop?"

It certainly appeared like the Headmaster suddenly recalled the presence of guests. The question took them by surprise, and Tom almost grinned. Dumbledore was a genius quite off his rocker, and they were proud of that fact. He spoke again when none responded.

"Do not consider me insensitive. I understand that you are — concerned."

Most of the students nodded. Then Natalie spoke:

"The fictional story has a lot of luck involved, and what if —"

"— what if one or more of you, without the grace of luck, does not survive?" He asked, standing right in front of them. There was no trace of worry in his voice — which itself gave assurance and calm.

He placed his hands gently on Natalie's shoulders. "I want to assure you, and all of your friends, that as long as I am alive, no serious harm shall befall any of you." He gave a small smile before resuming his stroll.

"Poppy and Pomona, in addition to being excellent staff, are able witches." He paused, to face them again. "The cure for our petrified students is being worked upon. Do not worry about Mr. Pattinson and Miss Davidson." He said, turning to his table.

They instinctively understood that they were dismissed.

As they were returning, Natalie was talking feverishly about how they ought to prepare for the next attack, if there was one.

"Well, obviously, I can try to get the diary from Ginny so she doesn't attack anyone else. It hasn't been as easy as I thought, though — she's strongly attached to it; never leaves it alone. Pretty sure she — sleeps with it." She shuddered. "Do you have any ideas, Tom?" she asked, for Tom had his hand on his chin, as he usually did while in thought.

"Hmm. Surely we can't just go "Hey Ginny, can we have your bag for a moment, we're looking for a part of Lord Voldemort's soul that is possessing you.""

A few grins spread through the crowd, and Tom continued:

"You said she sleeps with it… perhaps — we could cause a distraction at night?"

"What sort of a distraction?" she asked inquisitively.

Tom pondered for a moment. "A commotion in the common room? I can take care of that. Then, you could rush into her dorm while she is out and swipe the diary!"

It was agreed upon.

That evening, Tom left his dorm, textbooks in hand. He peeked around the staircase to make sure it was empty. Once he was satisfied that nobody indeed was around, he dumped all the textbooks at once on the floor, where they landed with a loud 'thud'.

Footsteps came rushing down, and with little time to spare, Tom blended himself in. Their plan had worked better than they thought. The textbooks looked innocuous enough where they weren't the prime suspect for the source of the noise, Tom was among his dormmates, and Natalie had slipped into Ginny's dorm, where, of course, she had abandoned the diary among all the confusion.

Natalie put her plan to action. She saw Ginny Weasley step out of the dormitory, along with the few others. With inhuman speed, she dashed into the first year's dormitory, and found it where she had seen it earlier — below her pillow. Ginny was turning back just as Natalie sprinted out.

Over the next few days they discussed the diary, now that it was finally in their possession. The six were trying to perfect their imitation of Parseltongue, a necessity for opening the Chamber. They tried to recall the hisses Harry made in the second movie of the franchise, since the book didn't provide a useful description. Nathan suggested taking a trip to Dumbeldore's office, where the wise wizard might be able to aid them.

This suggestion was received warmly by the group, who spent only ten minutes or so guessing the password before Victoria landed on "Sugar Quill."

Opening the door, and creeping up those familiar steps, Victoria gently knocked, and of course they were warmly welcomed in.

Dumbledore was busy with the Daily Prophet when they walked in.

"This is a pleasant surprise. There is something that is, perhaps, troubling you?" he greeted them, and put his paper aside, clasping his hands together with interest. "And — I not-so-humbly assume I can be of assistance."

"Yes, Professor —" Victoria said. "We were wondering if you knew… Parseltongue."

Dumbledore's eyebrows narrowed slightly, though his voice did not reflect any anger.

"You should be wiser than to phrase your question in such a way, Miss Parker, if it was not I standing in front of you. A Parselmouth is almost instantly regarded as a Dark Wizard; so would you, for your interest. Nevertheless…"

I have indeed done extensive research about Parseltongue. I have reached a position to understand it — but not to speak it. You will know, however, when the time comes… if you know where to look." His eyes twinkled. He then smiled and winked at them, and dismissed the six.

They were confused, utterly. But it was Dumbledore, after all. The man always had a plan.

Being escorted to classes by their teachers proved to be annoying. This was amplified with Snape, who forbade conversation, and Lockhart, who continued his usual blabbing about his 'achievements'.

Tom rolled his eyes. He couldn't wait until they were rid of that preposterously pompous prat of a professor. He then laughed internally at his own alliterative joke.

They had now officially spent seven months of their second year at Hogwarts as they reached April. Naturally, with Riddle's diary in their possession, a third attack had not taken place, and the Eight intended to keep it that way.

The accusations of being the Heir of Slytherin seemed to now settle around Malfoy. It was apparently explained by his bitterness about the defeat in the previous year's baseball challenge. The Fateful Eight — or the Subdued Six, as Nathan gravely dubbed their reduced number — would give hollow laughter at these theories, knowing that the truth was worse.

To their dismay, Hagrid had been sent to Azkaban, just like in the book. They could do nothing but watch, and it was infuriating. None of them expected Tom, the calmest of them, to have reserved a volley of abuses for the Ministry of Magic. Just as the six knew it, the Minister for Magic took that step to protect the image of the Ministry, well aware of Albus Dumbledore's fierce support for Hagrid.

In the following days, Dumbledore too had been removed as Headmaster of Hogwarts, a decision that caused both great rage and despair in the entire school — except, certainly, for Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's headweight had grown tenfold, and, as written in the book, he would stalk around as though he owned the place. Though the six knew Dumbledore's absence was temporary, they could not escape the gloom it had cast over Hogwarts. They now experienced the melancholy atmosphere around, a Hogwarts without Dumbledore. The very sunrays seemed to stop at the glass windows. The ordeal affected the morale of the group. The experience was decidedly not the same as that of merely reading about it.

They were gathered in the library one April afternoon, shortly after the Easter holidays, working on homework, when Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, strolled up to them.

"So how does it feel?" he flaunted. "To lose your leader?"

Sean looked at him with contempt. "Dumbledore is too valuable to be gone for long."

"No, I mean Pattinson. He's your leader, isn't he?"

"We don't… have a leader…" Tom told Malfoy, teeth clenched. He was already too irritated due to the recent occurrences.

But Malfoy was playing an elaborate game. "I just assumed he was your leader," he prodded. "After all, he did come up with that — er — 'bass-ball' game last year. And he comes up with all of your plans…" He sat down, and his two dimwitted followers imitated him.

"Actually, that's not true." Natalie snapped. "None of us is the leader. We work together. You can clear out."

"Don't know, it seems like Eddie's the smartest, the best…" Malfoy went on, smirking.

"What are you playing at?" Tom asked him sharply.

"No, not playing, not playing at all," said Malfoy, smiling. "Just trying to find out the leader here."

"Well, it's not Eddie," said Tom. "It's no one. Now listen to Natalie and clear out."

"But how can you function without a leader?" Malfoy asked innocently.

"We get by," Sean chipped in quietly.

"Ah! The mudblood Slytherin standing up for his friends! Miss your girlfriend, do you?"

Sean stood up. "Get out," he growled.

By this point the other five were on their feet as well.

"We have you two to one," Sean scowled at him. "Get out now."

A few of the others drew their wands.

"Whatever you say…" Malfoy snickered. "Assuming you're the leader, of course."

At that point they were making such a stir that Madam Pince stormed over and had them all thrown out.

Malfoy was grinning from ear to ear as he departed with Crabbe and Goyle. Sean was breathing heavily.

"Lucky git," he told them. "I was ready to punch that idiot like Eddie did to Seamus. Man, that was something."

He leaned against the wall and sighed. "Guys… um — there's something I have to tell you."

He closed his eyes and gulped.

"I…"

"…am Spider-Man?" Natalie asked.

"What?" Sean said, incredulous.

"It's a line from a movie."

"Anyway," he continued. "I —"

"— like Claire?" Nathan asked mischievously.

"How the hell did you get that right away? Sheesh!" Sean exclaimed, blushing. "Was it that obvious?"

"Uh, yeah —" Nathan snorted. "You always are super defensive about Claire when anyone mocks her."

Sean managed a grin. "At least, I did a good job of keeping it a secret." He coughed, and it sounded oddly like "Victoria!"

She blushed and Sean smiled again.

"Are you two dating yet?" he asked.

Now it was Nathan's turn to blush.

"N-no —"

They bickered in good spirits all the way back to the common room, forgetting temporarily all about the perils surrounding them.