Edit: Had to tie up some loose threads. Hope this is better. Again, the last few chapters haven't really been commented on in the reviews. I hope they were satisfying. If you could leave your feedback through review or PM, I would really appreciate it.

Johanna dashed across the Chamber and knelt down beside Hilda, lifting the still girl into her arms. "Hilda! Speak to me! Please wake up!"

Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall appeared by her side. "Ms. Dahl, your daughter is alive," Minerva said. "Her magical core is nearly exhausted."

"Will she be alright?"

"...I don't know." She put her hand on Hilda's forehead and gave a sharp breath. "I've never seen anything like this."

Frida stirred slowly. She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "W-what?" She turned her head. "H-Hilda."

"She's alright, Miss Aiken," McGonagall said. "Everything's alright."

"The diary," she mumbled. "My fault..."

"Nonsense. Severus, hand me that sleeping draught."

Severus was searching his bag when they all heard a rumble in the distance, followed by a hiss that echoed through the sewer network. "Dear Merlin," he said. "Is that…"

"I think we'd best make haste," McGonagall said, trying to bite back her fear.

Dumbledore moved over to Harry and knelt down beside Draco. "Oh, my poor boy."

Draco was trying in vain to staunch Harry's wounds. There was just so much blood. "Dumbledore, help me!"

"I'm this is one curse I cannot heal," the Headmaster replied.

"But he's going to die!"

"No, he won't." The Headmaster picked Fawkes up and looked him in the eye. "C'mon, old friend. Give us a hand. Mr. Malfoy, if you would step back, please…"

Draco woke up to find his father sitting beside his hospital bed. "Draco," he whispered, his throat hoarse. "Thank Merlin you're alright."

Draco nodded looked to his left. Harry and Hilda lay in the beds beside him, sleeping peacefully. Beyond them lay the petrified students, their faces frozen in terror. "No thanks to you," Draco muttered.

Lucius frowned. "What?"

"I know about the diary. Hilda's elf friend saw you put it in Weasley's school bag. Dobby told me everything as well."

Lucius stiffened in his seat. "Now, Draco, who would you believe, a couple of elves or your father?"

"The basilisk almost killed me!" Draco shouted, his voice echoing through the empty infirmary.

"Draco, be silent."

"You could have killed me!"

"I will not tolerate this insolence. We will speak about this later."

"No! I want to hear you say it."

Lucius stamped his cane on the ground. "You have no idea the stakes in this game, Draco. Don't you dare talk about things you know nothing about." He shook his head. "You weren't supposed to get involved," he said in a soft voice. He put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Draco shrugged Lucius off him. "Forget your apology."

"Draco, I trust you'll keep this quiet."

Draco paused, conflict in his eyes. "I-I can't. Even if Hilda and Potter didn't know the truth, I can't."

"You'd turn in your own father?" Lucius pulled his wand from its cane and pressed it to his son's forehead. "Draco, take care in how you choose to answer me: will you turn me in?"

Draco betrayed no emotion. "What are you going to do? Obliviate me?" Lucius's hand began to shake. He broke eye contact with his sun and lowered his wand. "Please, go. I can give you a day's head start before I tell Dumbledore. Don't tell me where you're going, I don't care."

Lucius stood slowly. "Goodbye, Draco. I'm... I'm sorry."

"I know."

Draco listened his father's footsteps echo off down the infirmary. Only when the doors opened slammed closed did he let himself cry.

Occasionally Hilda woke from her fever, her eyes roaming blindly across the ceiling. For the most part she was lost in her dreams. Tom Riddle's hand around her neck, a snake-like face grinning at her, a scruffy-haired man with a thousand-yard stare, Rasmus Dahl lying bleeding in the snow, a beautiful blue-haired woman with hate in her eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of nightmares, a familiar voice broke through the fog. "Hilda!"

She blinked wearily and smiled. "Mum?" A second later something jumped into her lap and began to lick her arm. "Twig!"

She found herself wrapped up in a hug. "Thank goodness you're awake!" Johanna eased her daughter back onto the hospital bed. "You've been unconscious for nearly a month!"

"A month!"

"You nearly died! How could you be so reckless?"

"Not reckless, Ms. Dahl." Dumbledore said as he emerged from behind a nearby column. "Fearless." Hilda knew she was anything but fearless, but declined to correct him. "Putting yourself in danger to help a friend, how very Gryffindor of you."

"I'll say."

Hilda looked to her right and found Harry sitting on the next cot over. Beside him sat Ron, Draco, Hermione and David "Harry! How…?"

The boy smiled. "Phoenix tears can cure anything, apparently."

"And David, Hermione! You're alright!"

David smiled and nodded. "The Mandrakes were harvested yesterday. Everyone's right as rain."

Johanna squinted at the boy. "David, there's a spider on your shoulder."

David nodded. "Yeah, my newest friend."

The spider waved. "Hello, nice lady!"

Johanna waved back, a perplexed look on her face. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by a talking spider, the way things have been going these last few months."

Hilda looked around and noticed someone missing. "Where's Frida? Is she..."

"She's alright, Hilda," Draco replied. "She hasn't left the Ravenclaw dorms since that night, however."

"Miss Aiken is very lucky to have a friend like you, Miss Dahl," Dumbledore said. "How are you feeling?"

Hilda touched her ribs gingerly. "A little sore."

"Madame Pomfrey was able to heal most of your wounds rather easily, but some aches and pains may stick around for a while. Anything else bothering you?"

Hilda felt around. She realized that there was a strange feeling in her stomach, a sort of vacancy. Hello? She asked. No response. She's gone. Hilda grinned. "I feel better than fine, actually."

Dumbledore leaned in and studied her, a serious look in his eyes. It soon vanished, replaced by his natural twinkle. "Hm, so you are."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Johanna repeated. Hilda nodded. "Good, because you are in So. Much. Trouble. You could've been killed!—

"Or expelled," Hermione muttered.

Johanna's anger faltered, and she had to wipe her eyes on her shirt sleeve. "I was so scared. I thought I'd lost you forever."

"I'm sorry, mum."

Johanna sniffled. "Don't be sorry. You were only doing what you do best. I'm so angry at you, but also so proud."

"Your mother is a force to be reckoned with," Dumbledore remarked. "The second she learned you were in danger she stole a car and managed to penetrate the school wards."

"How did you even know I was in danger?"

"A mother's intuition, I suppose." Dumbledore shrugged. "That or second sight."

"Rubbish," Hermione said. "There's no such thing."

"Don't be so sure, Miss Granger."

"Dumbledore," Harry asked. "Is Tom Riddle gone?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his beard swinging like a pendulum. "No, I don't think so. The man you met in the Chamber was but a memory of Tom."

"But the Dark Lord is dead!" Malfoy said. "Harry killed him."

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't. I met him last year. He tried to kill me."

"Yes," Dumbledore looked out one of the infirmary windows. A light snow was falling outside. "Tom is not dead, merely broken. I fear we haven't seen the last of him."

Malfoy shuddered. "Well that's reassuring."

There was a commotion outside. The infirmary doors opened as Shacklebolt and Filch entered the hall carrying a stretcher between them. Filch looked triumphant. Clear that bed, children!" Harry, Draco, Hermione and David stood aside as the the patient was lowered none-too-gently onto the bed. "Look who we just dug out of the cave-in."

Hilda scowled when she recognized the man. "Lockhart!"

The bloodied, dust-caked figure on the stretcher sat up and smiled at the students. "Oh, hello! Pleased to meet you, I'm Gilderoy Lockhart...apparently."

"A stone really conked him hard," Filch said, grinning down at the professor. "With that and the rebounding memory charm, the rat can't even remember his own name."

"Although this man here was kind enough to remind me," Lockhart said. "He also reminded me of the terrible things I've done—shouted them, really. Golly, that doesn't sound like something I'd do, but I don't really know what I'd do, so who's to say?"

It took a few days for Hilda to regain her strength. When she could finally walk unaided, she and David left the infirmary and went to find Frida. Penelope Clearwater was kind enough to let her into the Ravenclaw dormitories.

She found Frida in her room, her bed curtains pulled shut. "Frida?" They parted the curtains and climbed in. Frida had the covers over her head. "Frida, please. Can we talk?"

Frida poked her head out from under the blanket. Her eyes were red from crying. "Hilda, I'm...I'm so sorry. I...I almost killed you, David and Hermione...Draco."

"That wasn't you. Ginny wasn't responsible for Mrs. Norris and Colin and the others, and you're not responsible, either. It was all Vol—Tom's doing."

"I know," Frida grabbed a tissue from the box beside her. "I just...I was afraid that you'd never forgive me. After the fight in the Great Hall—"

"Forget the Great Hall."

"I was pushing you both too hard."

"You were only trying to help," David replied. "In your own special way."

"But then I found the diary—what happened to that, by the way?"

"I vaporized it," Hilda gave a guilty smile. "It's a long story."

"—I thought I'd never get to apologize."

Hilda grabbed Frida's hand. "Well, now's the best time."

"I'm sorry."

"You said it already, I just wanted to hear you say it one more time."

Frida punched Hilda on the arm. "You prat!" she was laughing.

Hilda sat back on the bedspread. "So, I guess you've heard they canceled the exams."

Frida frowned. "I know. Six months of studying down the drain."

David grinned. "There's the Frida we know and love."

"David, there's a spider on your shoulder."

"Hello."

"...Did it just talk?"

Hilda laughed. "You have a lot of catching up to do."

That evening Hilda found Draco hiding among the stacks in the library. "I heard about your father."

Draco nodded, his expression blank. "They say he's hiding somewhere in Romania. He could be anywhere, really."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Draco shook his head. "I...I still love him, you know. Despite what he did."

Hilda nodded. "I understand, I guess. You can't choose family."

"He's not all bad. I thought I knew him. I believed him when he said he was never involved with the Dark Lord. It's terrible, to love someone since birth only to discover that you never really knew them."

"I heard you're going home tomorrow."

"I have to. I need to be with my mother. She's...it's been hard on her."

Hilda smiled and rested her hand atop his. "It'll be alright, Draco.

Draco held back his blush. "I hope so."

Hilda stopped before the gargoyle. "Wonka Bar." She ascended the moving staircase and entered Dumbledore's office. The headmaster looked up from his paperwork and smiled. "Ah! Miss Dahl. Lemon drop?" He held out the dish of sweets. Hilda took one and sat down. "I've always had a sweet tooth. I find it keeps me from becoming bitter."

"Headmaster," Hilda began. "I want to talk to you about the basilisk."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded. "Mr. Potter told me all about her. Who would have thought she was an expectant mother. I'd heard that basilisk eggs take a century or more to hatch. Tom was quite clever to exploit that, I'll give him that."

"What's going to happen to her?"

"I'm afraid action has already been taken. The aurors took care of her a few days ago."

"Taken care of…" Hilda blanched. "You killed her."

"I'm afraid so. They're probably down there right now, harvesting her hide and venom—very rare, so I've heard. My father used to wear what he claimed were basilisk-skin boots, but I think they were really alligator. Rather distasteful, either way."

"Why? She wasn't a threat."

Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Dahl, a happy basilisk is still a basilisk. It would be irresponsible to keep such a dangerous creature around, especially in a school environment."

"You could've moved her."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Dahl, you have a big heart, but you cannot save everything. The basilisk is a dark creature, and there is no place for dark magic at Hogwarts."

"It's not right. You can't kill something because you fear it. She was misunderstood."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. When you're older, you will understand. There is dark and light, and no room in between."

Hilda pushed her chair back and stood up. "You're wrong." For a moment her eyes flashed blue. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the office.

Dumbledore sighed. "There is darkness in her, Rasmus."

Rasmus Dahl emerged from the shadows. "She's been weakened, but I suspect she'll be back."

"Is she a threat?"

"No. Not yet. The path she's following, however, is troubling." He paused, his voice catching in his throat for a moment. "Can she be saved?"

"We can only hope." Dumbledore gestured for Rasmus to sit. "Now that you're back from the dead, perhaps you can explain what happened."

Rasmus leaned back in the chair and pulled his cigarette case from a robe pocket. "It's a long, long story, Albus."

"I have all the time in the world."

At some point during the flaying of the basilisk, Mundungus Fletcher pardoned himself to use the loo. He ducked down one of the sewer tunnels and scurried through the side chambers, eyes scanning the dark, slime-coated ground.

After ten minutes, his foot knocked against something. He knelt down and grinned at his find. "Gotcha!" Carefully, he lifted one of the basilisk eggs from it's nest and inspected it. "What do you reckon you're worth down on Knockturn?" he asked, dreams of Galleons dancing through his head.

He tapped the egg. Something tapped back. Mundungus watched in horror as a piece of shell the size of a postage stamp cracked loose from the egg and fell to the ground, and a single glowing eye peered through it.

Fletcher dropped the egg and toppled to the floor, his last scream escaping his mouth with the sound of an asthmatic balloon deflating. His hand fell to a rest beside the second egg, which began to rock back and forth.

A minute later, both newborn snakes gathered around the petrified auror. They flicked their tongues and bared their fangs.

Dung didn't need to known Parseltongue to understand their exited hisses.

Feast.

This was a very difficult chapter to write. A lot of false starts, crumpled drafts, head-banging, and hair-pulling. I hope it makes some sense. I suspect this is the last chapter, although I have an epilogue planned, so stay tuned for that.