To any who noticed that I uploaded the same chapter twice: I noticed an error and fixed it, sorry.


Okay so Angel Protectress suggested the last name Fisk for the sitter and gave a physical description of a middle aged woman with shoulder length light brown hair that's graying at the temples, plump, but not overweight, and prefers to wear her hair in a pony tail. Which is great except a little while before I read her review I decided that the sitter was college age and was babysitting to work off her tuition and expenses so here is the bio for the sitter.

Chloe Fisk

Age: 20

Appearance: Shoulder length light brown hair that she wears in a ponytail. Hazel eyes. Good looking, but not overly thin.

Thanks for the help.


The next day, Bree managed to corner Harry and got him to tell her exactly why he had needed to be rescued. Harry told her about a house elf that was stealing his letters to keep him from coming to school, and that's why he hadn't written back. Then Bree asked about what happened when the Weasley's showed up in a flying car. Harry told her about how they pried the bars off his window. This didn't bother Bree in the least. Bars on the window were quite common in the more crime laden areas of Southern California. Harry had neglected to tell her that his was the only window with bars on it.

Then he told her about how the twins had picked the lock on his door. "They locked you in your room!" Bree exclaimed.

"Well, it's not that bad. At least they didn't put me in the cupboard again." Harry quickly realized that this was the wrong thing to say. Bree looked angry, and there was a terrifying fury in her eyes. "Excuse me Harry, I have business to attend to." she said before taking her leave.


Veron Dursley prided himself on being normal. As far as he was concerned he had a normal job, a normal house, a normal wife, and a normal son. The only thing abnormal in his life was his wife's nephew, but he was away at his freaky school and wouldn't be bothering him until summer.

And so on this normal, in his normal house, Veron opened what seemed to be a normal letter. As soon as he did so white power came out of the envelope. The note read "This is Anthrax, prepare to die."

"Petunia! Call the police!" Veron shouted


286. Not allowed to send an envelope full of baby power with a note saying "This is Anthrax, prepare to die." to the Dursley's.


The police came quickly. So did just about every other government law enforcement agency, along with a hazmat team. Number Four Pivet Drive was quarantined,. Petunia and Veron were stripped down and showered off, before being taken to the hospital. They were released the next day when it was discovered that the white power was baby power.


- because it upsets the muggle government, that's why


Bree was reading a letter from her parents. Her mother had written her about the fake Anthrax scare and about what had happened to the Dursley's. Quite pleased with the results Bree decided to keep disrupting the Dursley's "normal" lives. The next letter she sent contained no powder. It only had one simple sentence. "I will come into your house at night and steal all your bacon."

The next one said "I will put eggs in your chimney." Bree decided to leave the Dursley's alone for a bit, so that they would let their guard down, before she sent the next one.


423. Not allowed to send anonymous and bizarre threats to the Dursley's.


Over the days that Bree spent tormenting the Dursley's she forgot about the problem of Colin Creevy. Colin, a first year that was obsessed with Harry, would follow Harry around and take pictures. Harry didn't have the heart to tell him off, so Bree decided to take measures. Telling him to go away didn't really do much, so Bree began to follow him around with a camera and randomly take photos with the flash on. After one such incident Professor McGonagall gave Bree detention because Colin, partially blinded by the flash, had walked into a wall.


222. Not allowed to follow Colin Creevy around with my camera "Just to see how he likes it."


Colin was still taking photos of Harry. It was annoying. Bree gave him a death glare every time he came near but it did little to deter him. One day, Bree got an axe from one of the suits of armor, found it to be to heavy for her to lift, cast a feather-light charm on it, then followed Colin around with it.

Now, she knew she would get in trouble if she was spotted with the axe, so instead of threatening the boy outright she would peek around corners from where only Colin could see her, shake the axe threateningly at him, then disappear before anyone else could see her.


223. Not allowed to follow Colin around with an axe in order to "Stop him from taking anymore of those bloody pictures."


One day she got caught by Percy ("Honestly, what is wrong with you? Did the twins put you up to this?") but she was perfectly fine with that because Colin was jumping at shadows for the next week.


In the Gryffindor common room, Colin was showing off the pictures he had taken and developed. Bree caught sight of them and grimaced.

"This one is out of focus." she commented holding one up, she picked another. "The composition of this one is completely off. That horizon cuts it in half."

"And you think you could do better?" an uppity dark haired first year asked her. Bree grinned. "Oh I know I can do better, wait here." Bree went up to her dorm. Next to her bed hung her two greatest accomplishments. Pictures that gave her a sense of pride. The first was a photo of a brightly colored rainbow lorikeet perched on a branch. It was perfectly in focus and all the little details of the feathers could be seen. The second was a picture of a butterfly. It was sitting delicately on a flower that was just as pink as the spot on its wing. Bree carefully took them down, along with the ribbons that went with them.

She went back to the common room where Colin was still waiting, his friends had left. She set the pictures down on a nearby table, with the ribbons next to them. "Come here." she commanded. Colin quickly walked over to where she was standing. "Now look at this one," she said pointing to the bird, "its perfectly in focus, you can clearly see the texture of the feathers, and that's just the way you want it, subject in focus, background out of focus to make the subject stand out more. That's why it got all the way to the stated fair from county." she explained.

"Now this one is a good example of composition." she said pointing to the butterfly. "See how it's off to the side. Putting it in the middle made it look awkward, but like this it got a blue ribbon at state."

"But the people in wizard photos move." Colin protested. "Yes, yes, but the background doesn't. You don't want a line cutting the photo in half, it looks weird." Bree stated.

"Why are the ribbons different colors?" Colin asked after a minute. Bree blinked.

"Hmm? Oh! It's because even though they both went all the way to state, the butterfly did better." she explained.

"How come?" Colin inquired.

Bree began to answer "Well I think it's because" "Bree!" she was cut off by Percy. "What are you doing to that boy?"

"I was just…" Bree protested.

"No excuses come with me." he commanded, leading her to Professor McGonagall's office.


224. Now allowed to shove my photography awards in Colin's face.


A few days later, Bree went out to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch practice. When she got to the field she saw that Colin Creevy, Ron, and Hermione, where already there. Colin was taking pictures of Harry. At the edge of the field Bree noticed some figures in Emerald green robes approaching. Bree groaned as Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain went to confront the Slytherin team.

Bree, Ron and Hermione all went down to see what was going on. "What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to bribe anyone to get in. Unlike a certain talent less Daddy's boy I know of." Bree responded, smirking.


247. Just because Draco's father bought his house team new brooms and he was subsequently made Seeker does not make him "A talent less Daddy's boy."


The smug look on Malfoy's face vanished.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood." he snarled.

Bree knew that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

Bree felt like smacking the boy.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" Harry demanded angrily. He and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds toward the edge of the forest.

"What exactly does "Mudblood" mean?" Bree asked the twins.

"Er, well, that is…" Fred stammered.

"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born. There are some wizards, like Malfoy's family, who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." George explained.

"Oh." Bree said. She looked over to where the Slytherins were still laughing. She turned back to the twins. "I just remembered something I had to do today." she said with a fake smile.

"Bree…" George said trying to stop her.

"I'll see you two later, alright." Bree said as she left.


"Password." the portrait guarding the Slytherin common room demanded.

"Pure-blood." Bree stated simply.

The portrait swung open. Bree peeked inside. Seeing no one there she quickly located the boys dorm. She found the sign that said "Second Years" and went in. Finding Malfoy's trunk wasn't hard. It was monogrammed with his name. She pried it open and quickly poured in a box of white power followed by a bottle of clear liquid before slamming the trunk closed. Then she left the Slytherin dorm.


396. Not allowed to fill Draco's trunk with vinegar and baking soda


October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened.

Bree, conscious of how tired the team was becoming, got up even earlier than Oliver, and by that I mean she waited until everyone was asleep, pulled a roll of duct tape (that she had brought from home that she had been planning to use in a prank involved rubber ducks, but she forgot the ducks) out of her trunk and snuck into the boys dorm. She used most of the roll taping Oliver to the bed. She also made sure to cover his mouth so he couldn't yell and wake everyone up anyway, then she shut the curtains around his bed and went back to her own dorm.


271. Not allowed to duct tape Oliver Wood to his bed.


The next morning Bree woke up to the sound of pouring rain. She went down to breakfast and found the Quidditch team happily enjoying breakfast.

"I dunno, maybe Wood finally got the hint." she heard Fred say.

Mean while, upstairs Percy was had just flung open the curtains to Oliver's bed and was gaping a the sight of him struggling with the shiny tape while yelling "MMMM MMM MM MMM!" which probably wasn't what he was saying but that's all that Percy could make out.


- even if the Quidditch team appreciated not having to get up to practice that morning, as it was raining.


About a week or so later, it was Halloween. The feast went better then last year, no one came running in yelling about a troll. When the feast ended everyone left the hall, everything was well until they came to a certain passage where Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!".

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster, just upstairs, please feel free…"

"Suck up." Bree thought.

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Bree stared after them for a moment, them yawned and headed up to bed.


History of Magic was the most boring subject ever, and Bree usually liked history. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss … er…?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms, Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk, and Bree looked up from her doodles.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before.

"However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale."

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Apparently he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy.

After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir. What exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing"

"Where any of the headmasters and headmistresses the true heir of Slytherin?" Bree interrupted.

"Well no. Not that I'm aware of, but"

"So it could be that only the heir can find it." Bree stated.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual stupor.


Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf.

"Wow, I'm learning even less than I did from Qurril." Bree thought as she doodle in a notebook.

"Nice loud howl, Harry, exactly, and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced, like this, slammed him to the floor, thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down, with my other, I put my wand to his throat. I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm, he let out a piteous moan, go on, Harry, higher than that, good, the fur vanished, the fangs shrank, and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective, and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

Bree left the classroom as quickly as possible and began muttering to herself. "Lying idiot. Couldn't even defend himself from pixies. Somebody out to lock him in a closet. With snakes." Bree was starting to look happier at each work. "Poisonous snakes." She turned her head to the right, as if she was talking to someone. "But were would we get poisonous snakes?" she asked. She turned her head to the left. "Well were going to California for winter break, we might be able to catch some rattlesnakes." Her head turned to the right again. "That's far too long to wait. Let's buy some from the internet." Left again. "But we have no computer." She put her hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically "You just had to remind me." At this point some first year Hufflepuff's were scurrying away from her. She smirked and continued walking.


320. Not allowed to talk to myself in hallways to scare people.


So I decided what I will do with the stary I previewed a few chapters ago. I'm going to post it along when I get to seventh year. This will give me time to work out plot details, and I won't give away any spoilers for the other years 'cause it would be diffecult to write a seventh year fic without revealing wat happened in previous years.

Review please!