It's been a while. It would have taken a while in any case; this chapter is as long as some multi-chapter fanfics I've written and is extensively researched to be compatible with canon.

But then, just as I was almost done, I got Covid-19. A mild case, to be sure, but "mild" only means that you stay out of the hospital. I managed to escape that—barely. I'm on week 5 here, and it's horrible. Trying to work from home while being incredibly fatigued has been… interesting. (I got the first two weeks off.) In any case, I'm better enough to start writing again.

I hope you find it worth the wait.

~Dr. Hermione

Chapter Fourteen

Horrors and Horcruxes

Because he'd had Draco in his class the previous year, it wasn't terribly surprising that Severus received an invitation to dinner at Malfoy Manor that August.

I know you like to be alone during the summers, but please come, Narcissa had scrawled in her postscript. I promise it will be just be Lucius, Draco, and myself.

"Sweet Merlin, what do they hope to get out of this event?" Severus grumbled to Aziz that night. They were in the sitting room at Spinner's End, as they often were after dinner— Aziz sprawled in a semi-reclining position in the air, Severus slouched in the battered old wingback chair that was his favorite, feet propped up on the table opposite.

"Hmmm," Aziz said. "I wonder if it's really safe for you to be hanging out with Death Eaters when Voldemort is in hibernation?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully, then frowned. "No, wait, Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire." Floating down next to Severus, he put his finger squarely on the Dark Mark. "Yes, one of the ties is there."

"What do you mean?" Severus asked.

Aziz sighed heavily. "Do you remember the night after Voldemort died? When I said your Dark Mark was tied to several locations? They led in many different directions, but one of them was south-south-east of Hogwarts. When I felt your Mark right now, the directions those ties led have all shifted. The one that seemed nearby before seems to still be back at Hogwarts or very near there. The one that used to be due south of Hogwarts is now south-east of here—it's clearly moved somehow, because I can't figure one location that would make both of those criteria true. The one that was south-east before is almost, not quite, south-east."

Aziz tapped Severus's Mark again. "And the one that led south-south-east still leads south-south-east. Which means it lies somewhere along a line that runs through here and Hogwarts. Now it's true, it could be somewhere like Le Mans or Barcelona or Algeria…but it doesn't feel that far away. Malfoy Manor lies somewhere near that line, Severus. I think there's something at Malfoy Manor that Voldemort is tied to."

"But—but he didn't make the Horcrux!"

"He didn't make that Horcrux. But Severus—what if he was planning to make more than one? If he'd only made the one, there would be only one tie. Maybe he'd already made a bunch and he was going to make one more!"

Severus pulled his feet off the table and sat up straight. "I didn't realize that you could make more than one Horcrux."

"I've never known anyone to do so. And I'm not sure how well it would work in practice…but Voldemort was always a little too ambitious for his own good, don't you think?"

"You would have to split your soul several times. Would that even work?" Severus queried.

"Souls are hard to split in the first place. From what I've read, most people can't make a Horcrux properly on the first try. You can't just kill someone—you have to murder, with forethought and no feelings of mercy or compassion. I imagine that it gets easier with practice, though," Aziz said with a perturbed look on his face.

"Your soul would be split into smaller and smaller pieces, right?"

"Yes, and that's not a good thing. I had to do a lot of study on the nature and composition of souls as I prepared for this"—Aziz waved his hand at his ghostly body—"and I'm telling you, even without intentional splitting, souls are liable to getting frayed around the edges. They're the part of the human that doesn't truly belong in this dimensional space, and people have to work very hard to keep them whole and intact."

"Keep them whole—how?"

"Constant doing of good deeds, building other people up, self-sacrifice. By working to strengthen other people's souls, you also fortify your own. Without that, little bits and pieces of your soul crumble off and return to their home dimension. Now imagine splitting your soul—not once, but several times. As far as I can tell, a normal Horcrux doesn't contain half a soul; it contains a smaller portion, maybe a quarter or a sixth or something. So if you were making four, let's say you'd lose a sixth of your original soul the first time, leaving you with five sixths. The second time, you'd lose a sixth of that, five thirty-sixths, leaving you with twenty-five thirty-sixths. The third time, you'd lose a sixth of that, twenty-five two-hundred-sixteenths, leaving you with one hundred twenty-five two-hundred-sixteenths—less than half of your original soul."

"Voldemort did seem to be not quite human," Severus remarked. "Not to interrupt your math, but if you lose your entire soul, like if you get Kissed by a Dementor, you end up unable to function. But Voldemort seemed more powerful, not less so."

"When you're kissed by a Dementor, your soul all goes at once," replied Aziz. "You don't have time to react. Whereas when you only lose a sixth or so at a time—you have plenty of time to fill in that gap with something else. And by the way, thank you for stopping the math—I have no idea what six times two hundred sixteen is."

Severus scratched his head. "What could you fill a soul gap with?"

"I suspect hatred, anger, emotions of that sort."

"But then, when you make another Horcrux, wouldn't you also put part of that hatred into it?"

Aziz shrugged. "Maybe? Or maybe you only transfer the soul-bit. I don't know. Like I said, I've never heard of anyone doing it before."

"Well, this is shitty," Severus growled, leaping from his chair to pace back and forth. "I assume one has to destroy all of his Horcruxes before he's truly gone. How do you even destroy a Horcrux anyway?

"You basically have to destroy whatever the soul fragment has been put inside," Aziz replied. "Which is why it's so hard to destroy a Horcrux. The magic of making a Horcrux evidently imbues the soul-container with certain resistant properties. So, for example, Sauron—who might be based on the myth of an ancient wizard—made a Horcrux out of the One Ring. Frodo actually didn't have to cast it into Mount Doom—any volcano would have done. But regular fire could not melt it." Aziz winked at Severus, who was unashamedly gawping at him.

"So you think I have to find a Horcrux at Malfoy Manor and destroy it somehow?"

"Start by asking questions, Severus," Aziz counseled. "We'll figure out how to remove and destroy it later. But first we need to know what it might be."

~~SS~~

Severus had worried that he'd have to snoop around Malfoy Manor to discover what the Horcrux might be, but he shouldn't have worried.

Upon arriving, he was showed immediately into the dining room, and no sooner had he sat down than a loaded plate appeared in front of him. He enjoyed the juicy, tender pot roast with incredibly flavorful gravy—he really needed to get tips from Aziz on better cooking—while he, Lucius, and Narcissa chatted about Draco's first year of Hogwarts. "He definitely has a talent for potions," Severus told the beaming parents.

"First in his class, I suppose?" Lucius inquired, not noticing his son's pout.

"Second amongst all the first-years," Severus amended. "Pretty amazing."

"Humph. Who's first?" Lucius growled. "Don't tell me you're letting that Zabini boy best you."

Draco stared fixedly down at his plate. "No, father. I'm much better than Blaise at just about everything. It's…" The boy mumbled the rest of the sentence, then quickly stuffed his mouth with food before his father could ask him to repeat himself.

"Well, Severus? Who is it?"

"A Gryffindor, I'm afraid. Hermione Granger."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose in the way she'd always done while thinking. "Some relative of Hector Dagworth-Granger, I suppose? Potions probably run in her blood!"

"No, no. She's Muggleborn."

Lucius turned to his son, scowling. "You are clearly not trying hard enough, Draco. Perhaps you should go up to your room now and study."

"But it's summer!"

"No, no, listen to your father. It's not a bad idea," Narcissa prodded. "After you finish your vegetables, of course. Besides, I think Lucius wants to talk to Severus alone."

Indeed, after the plates had vanished from the dinner table, Lucius led Severus into the study. "Bourbon or whiskey?" he asked, taking two glasses out from a cabinet.

"You should know by now that I don't drink anything stronger than wine."

"Yes, yes, I'd forgotten about your family's unfortunate tendency towards alcoholism. Shall I have Dobby bring a butterbeer?"

Severus shrugged. "That will do, I suppose."

Lucius snapped his fingers to summon a house-elf. "Speaking of Gryffindors, I need to ask who your biggest troublemakers are from that house."

"Fred and George Weasley," Severus said without pausing to think.

"Which one is worse?"

"They're identical twins. Equally bad and virtually impossible to tell apart." For most people. Severus, as a Legilimens, had an advantage; George was the one who was usually mooning about Angelina Johnson. Of course, he had no intention of telling Lucius that he could see into people's thoughts. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, our dear master left me a little gift. Said it was cursed and would be good to use on enemies. I thought it would be fun to get a Gryff in trouble with it."

Severus frowned. "What is it? How does it work?"

"He said it would lead them to the Chamber of Secrets…"

"Psh! You don't really believe that, do you? The Chamber of Secrets is a myth. I'll bet he was joking."

Lucius shrugged. "Maybe. It seems innocuous. Nothing turns up with Specialis Revelio. And yet, I can't help but think of our erstwhile Master every time I hold it."

"May I see?" asked Severus, trying not to sound too eager.

Lucius produced a small, battered tome and handed it over. Severus examined the binding carefully and flipped through the blank pages. "Aparecium," he intoned, tapping it with his wand.

"I've tried all that," Lucius protested.

Severus shrugged. "It won't hurt to have a second pair of eyes on this. Pour yourself that drink, Lucius, while I examine it some more."

He whispered Aziz's name as soon as Lucius had turned his back. The djinn stayed invisible, but Severus could feel the pressure of a ghostly finger on his Dark Mark.

"It's what we're looking for," Aziz whispered. "I've never heard of anyone using a book for a Horcrux before—they're pretty easy to destroy."

"Should I do it now?" Severus mumbled under his breath.

"No, no. Get it to Hogwarts somehow."

"I have no idea what this is," Severus lied to Lucius. "If you give it to someone at Hogwarts, let me know who, please. I'll be able to give you progress reports on what's happening."

"That's why I brought you into this plan in the first place, Sev," smirked Malfoy. He looked around and saw his house-elf standing in the corner of the room—had he been there the whole time? "Bring a bottle of the 1988 merlot for Master Snape, Dobby."

~~SS~~

Severus looked across the staff room in disgust. Gilderoy Lockhart, that pompous popinjay, was trying very hard to hit on Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor. The school year hadn't even started yet—this was Lockhart's very first day as a Hogwarts employee—and the idiot was trying to get laid! Charity probably had things in hand, but…well, maybe not. Her eyes darted around as though she were looking for a way out.

He swooped up in his best bat-of-the-dungeons fashion (oh, yes, he knew what the students called him) and smiled endearingly (he hoped) at the younger woman. "Charity, my dear, are we still on for tonight?"

Her eyes blinked questioningly at him for a while before she replied: "Oh, yes, of course. If you'll excuse me, Professor Lockhart?" And she grabbed Severus's elbow and maneuvered him away.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It's an old trick," he said. "We should develop hand signals in case you need to use it again."

She closed her eyes. "And I've been a bitch to you. Look, I'm sorry. I—"

"I've heard it's the best way to keep unwanted suitors at bay," he said. "But since I've never thought of you that way—can we be allies of a sort?"

She nodded tersely. "Maybe we should sit by each other at meals? If you're okay with that?"

"Hmmm," he said. He liked eating his meals in silence.

"We don't have to talk," she added.

"I'll do it."

"Thanks again, Severus."

~~SS~~

Harry Potter, being a troublemaker, didn't even bother waiting until after the Welcoming Feast to get into trouble that year. He and his sidekick, Ron Weasley, took a flying car to Hogwarts instead of the train. And of course, Severus was the one to catch them as they tried to sneak into the school.

The absolute nerve of that kid! Wasn't it bad enough that Dumbledore was throwing him in Voldemort's way any chance possible? How far could they push that protection spell?

Yes, he knew theoretically that Harry didn't know about the protection spell. But that made it, in some ways, even worse. How could Harry possibly be as reckless as James when James hadn't even been around to raise his son?

Harry needed to learn to be cautious: to watch his back, to always have a second, more experienced set of eyes watching out for him. He wouldn't learn that without serious consequences. But instead he got…detention. Ridiculous. The only one who could save him from Voldemort was an irresponsible idiot. Severus fumed for days.

~~SS~~

At the beginning of October, Severus was watching the first-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class with barely veiled contempt—most of them were complete idiots—and suddenly took a good look at the one student who actually showed more than a little talent. Ginny Weasley swept a batch of carefully cubed ginger root into her cauldron with a flourish, then looked up with mischief sparkling in her bright brown eyes.

A redhead. With freckles. And mischievous brown eyes.

The face he'd seen in James's mind back in the fall of 1981 was that of a young woman. Even though Ginny Weasley was still just a child, Severus had no doubt that she was the one that Harry was going to marry. It meant he had pledged to protect her. Well, he didn't know what she needed protection from yet, but she was looking a bit pallid lately.

Her brother, Percy, was in his next class. Severus pulled him aside beforehand. "Is your sister anemic?" he asked. "She looks paler than usual, as though she might pass out at any moment."

The boy shrugged. "She's probably fine. Maybe coming down with that flu that's going around? I'll send her to Pomfrey for some Pepper-Up."

~~SS~~

Halfway through October, Severus still hadn't figured out whom Lucius had given the book-Horcrux to, and Lucius hadn't bothered to tell him. He'd owled Malfoy to ask, of course, but never received an answer. He'd detained the Weasley twins on multiple occasions, finding any excuse necessary to rifle through their book bags (and their minds, to be honest). They were no more—or less, for that matter—troublesome than before. He did discover that they were thinking of creating a joke shop. Given both their propensity for mischief and their talent in potions, he actually thought that was quite a good career for them, and he wondered how he could encourage them.

~~SS~~

It was Halloween. The Great Hall was decorated with Hagrid's giant pumpkins and fluttering bats. Charity Burbage, Rolanda Hooch, and Aurora Sinistra, as the three witches; Minerva McGonagall, as Hecate; and Gilderoy Lockhart, as the title character performed a rendition of the Scottish play, Act IV, scene 1, for the students. The ladies were magnificent actors; Lockhart, who assumed the whole play was praising his character, strutted around as though he was the most charismatic person in the world.

Had he even read the play? thought Severus. Does he know he's supposed to be portraying a murderer? He glanced out over the audience to see how many of them were familiar with this work of Shakespeare's. A cursory glance of the Gryffindor table showed him that Harry Potter was not there, and neither was Ron Weasley. Well! He'd have to look into that. Their classmate, Hermione Granger, would surely appreciate the performance: she was named after a Shakespeare character, after all. But she wasn't there, either. Interesting…

Severus waited until Dumbledore excused the students before sweeping out the exit. Where would the troublemakers be? He hadn't thought that the Weasley boy, at least, would miss such excellent food. Harry either, for that matter: he'd returned from the summer hols looking woefully undernourished.

Where could they be hiding? Perhaps in the Come-and-Go room, as the house elves called it? Albus was heading up the stairs and Severus followed behind him, hoping to break free of the crowds enough to get to the seventh floor. But then he heard a shriek—Argus Filch was yelling about his cat being murdered. "Let me through!" Severus ordered in a menacing voice, and the crowds of milling students parted to allow him passage. Painted on the wall in shining letters were the words:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, was hanging from a nearby torch bracket.

And standing front and center, with gaping mouths and bewildered expressions, were none other than Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

Lockhart volunteered his office for the post-mortem on Mrs. Norris. Severus pushed his way into the office along with Filch, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lockhart, and the Wonder Trio. No sooner had the door closed than the two older folks were bent over the cat, examining it. Snape, meanwhile, used the opportunity to use Legilimency on the three students.

Harry was feeling sorry for Filch but even sorrier for himself—he was sure he was about to be expelled. Well, good. Maybe the boy would stop meddling in everything. The Weasley boy was wishing they could get some real food, not the (literally) rotten stuff they had at the Deathday party they'd just attended. And Granger…Granger's mind was whirling with facts and analysis. She was determined to figure out who'd done it, more out of curiosity than a desire to clear her own name.

Severus bit back a smile. The girl was really something. It was a shame he didn't have more students like her. Sure, she got into trouble at times, but that was often nothing more than a sign of curiosity. He saw Harry staring at him and, realizing he probably should be more somber at a time like this, scowled at the boy.

Clearly, someone other than Harry or his compatriots had done this, but knowing the boy—and at this point, Severus knew him pretty well—he would go looking for the culprit. What could Severus do to keep him out of danger? Perhaps put the fear of expulsion into him.

Filch tried, predictably, to put the blame on Harry. When Harry proclaimed his innocence, Severus took the questioning down a road that was sure to point at his not being where he wanted to be. The boy even went so far as to state that they'd gone upstairs rather than to the feast because they were "tired and wanted to go to bed."

But Severus, who knew that wasn't the case, pushed back. His question about whether they'd wanted human food was interrupted by a loud rumble from the Weasley boy's stomach. Damn it, he thought, this isn't working. If anything, it was making Harry more recalcitrant. So instead he suggested that Harry lose Quidditch privileges—that game was so important to him. But of course, Dumbledore was lenient. Why was he coddling the boy so?

To top off what was a very frustrating evening, Lockhart suggested that he should be the one to make up the Mandrake Restorative Potions. As if! Severus thought that even Longbottom would be a more competent brewer.

~~SS~~

In the weeks that followed, the students got jumpier and jumpier. Many of them started avoiding Harry, Severus noticed, although they didn't seem to feel the same about Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger (who ought to have been equally suspect).

Severus was fairly certain that the opening of the Chamber—if, indeed, it had happened—had been triggered by Lucius's giving the Horcrux-book to someone. But whom? It wasn't Harry or his two sidekicks, nor was it either of the Weasley twins. At last, at Aziz's urging, he scheduled a meeting with Dumbledore in his office.

"Albus, we haven't talked much since the Dark Lord fell, but I really feel that something related is going on here," he began.

"I think so too," the older wizard twinkled. "After all, the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened was when Tom Riddle—the man who eventually styled himself as Voldemort—was a student at Hogwarts."

Well! That was information Severus definitely hadn't known.

"So, my boy, what do you know?"

"I know Lucius said he wanted to give a Gryffindor something that would help open the Chamber of Secrets. It didn't look like much, sir, and normal spells would not detect it. But from everything I've heard about it, I think it might be a Horcrux."

Dumbledore's eyes popped open. It took a lot to surprise his supervisor, but Severus had definitely done that here.

"A Horcrux! Hmmm, that's…very interesting. Do you know anything else? No? Well, then, let me do some digging and I'll get back to you."

~~SS~~

The weeks passed.

Harry Potter was endangered during a Quidditch game by a rogue Bludger. (Severus had been right: it would have been much safer to ban him from Quidditch.) Shortly thereafter, Colin Creevey was found petrified.

To boost morale, Severus suggested to Dumbledore that the students form a dueling club. It would be a good way for them to work out their anxieties, he told the headmaster. Naturally, Lockhart took the idea and ran with it, saying it was his own idea. Well! At least Severus would be the other professor involved in the club: he'd get a chance to duel the idiot. What fun he was going to have!

He was still thinking about it during the second year Gryffindor-Slytherin potions class, a week before they were to start the club, which explained why he wasn't paying as much attention as usual. A cauldron—Gregory Goyle's—exploded, splashing Swelling Solution everywhere. The idiot rarely got a potion right, but of course this was the one time he had. Students everywhere were howling; Draco's nose was enormous; Greg's swollen eyes made him look like a giant fly. Scowling, Severus handed out Deflating Draught to those who needed it and dispatched Greg to the infirmary, just in case—healing eyes could be a tricky thing.

Next he turned to clean up the mess. He banished the potion on the floor first, then turned to the cauldron…where he found the remnants of a Filibuster Wet-Start Firework. Sweet Merlin! With Longbottom in their class, this particular set of students were keenly aware of how dangerous potions accidents could be—how could any of them possibly intentionally cause a potions accident? Yes, he knew that Draco sometimes tried to sabotage the Gryffindors' potions: but he only tried to ruin them, not do something that would intentionally cause harm.

It wouldn't be Draco or his cronies, Severus decided. That meant it was most likely a Gryffindor. And unfortunately, his first guess would be… "If I ever find out who threw this," he whispered, looking at Harry Potter, "I shall make sure that person is expelled." Harry tried his best to look puzzled—ye gods, Severus hoped the boy never played poker—and that, in and of itself, said it all. Still, there was no evidence, so he could hardly take the Harry before Dumbledore. But why would he throw a firework in a potion? Harry was reckless, but he was neither stupid nor cruel enough to intentionally harm his classmates, unless he had a good reason. Or what he thought was a good reason, in any case.

Severus didn't figure out what that reason might be until later—not until after everyone had left, and he was tidying up the storeroom. The lid on the boomslang skin bottle had been screwed on at an angle. A further examination revealed that the jar of bicorn horn had been left on the shelf below the one where it belonged. No one ever got in the storeroom without his knowledge…unless there was a major diversion, that was.

Boomslang skin and bicorn horn. Damn. Someone was trying to brew Polyjuice. The Granger girl, no doubt. Well, he'd put a stop to that, as soon as Aziz could find out where she was doing it.

~~SS~~

Unfortunately, Aziz couldn't seem to find where the illicit brewing was taking place.

"Surely there's somewhere you haven't checked yet," Severus growled as he freshened up after dinner a week later. It was the evening when the dueling club was scheduled to meet for the first time, and he was looking in the mirror, tying his hair back with a leather thong.

"I may not have checked the whole castle," Aziz admitted. "But I've checked all of the hidey holes where students get up to mischief. The Weasley twins have got something simmering in the empty classroom on the fourth floor of the northwest tower, but they don't associate with Granger.

Severus scowled, trying to think if Ron would steal for his brothers. But wait, no—he'd been standing right next to Harry during the incident. It couldn't have been Ron.

"I believe it's time, master," Aziz said, gesturing at the clock.

"So it is," Severus smirked, and swept off eagerly to the inaugural meeting of the Hogwarts Dueling Club.

~~SS~~

Severus followed Lockhart up onto the golden stage at the side of the Great Hall. The popinjay began by bragging about his accomplishments—which, at this point in the school year, Severus was inclined to believe were all made-up. And now…

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart grinned. "He tells me he knows a tiny bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry—you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Severus had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing aloud—he did have his dangerous teacher persona to maintain, after all—but he couldn't stop himself from smirking. They turned to each other; Lockhart bowed, but Severus, who couldn't bring himself to show the idiot any respect, merely jerked his head and raised his wand. Lockhart said something stupid again, and then…

"One—two—three—"

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Severus. It wasn't what he'd use in a real duel, of course, but he didn't want to give the students any bright ideas. Lockhart didn't speak; he'd probably been so focused on the speech he was giving he'd forgotten to choose a spell in advance. Severus's spell slammed into him hard: blasting him off his feet, knocking him completely off the stage and into the wall. There were loud cheers from the Slytherin section of the room, and a few whoops from the other houses as well. (Predictably, there were also some cries of shock from several girls.)

Gilderoy staggered to his feet. Severus had to admit, the fool thought quickly, acting as though he'd meant to allow Severus to do it, saying that it was a good demonstration, and all that. Still, to demean his casting in that way—

"Enough demonstrating!" proclaimed Lockhart in his cheery voice. "I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all in pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to come help me—"

Severus started with several Hufflepuffs, who stood between himself and his Slytherins; Lockhart began with a few giggling Ravenclaw girls. Looking ahead, he saw the Parkinson girl moving closer to Miss Bulstrode—who, despite her large stature, was really quite a wimp, for a Slytherin. The look on Pansy's face said she was up to no good; he'd have to pair Millicent with someone more forgiving. Ah yes, Granger was nearby! Of course, Potter would claim her, or Weasley, unless he acted fast…

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter—"

Harry sidled towards Hermione. "I don't think so," Severus ordered. Looking around, he saw Draco with an eager smile on his face. Well, better that Harry learned how to duel a Slytherin sooner rather than later. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger—you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Granger smiled weakly at Millicent. The Slytherin girl's demeanor may have looked imposing to a Gryffindor, but Snape knew she was actually frightened.

"One…two…" A blast went off in the room before the count of three—from Draco, no doubt, as his father had taught him never to fight fair—and the rest of the students, befuddled, began casting spells at each other.

Lockhart was screaming ineffectively at Harry and Draco; Severus sighed and took charge, casting Finite Incantatem on the two boys. He looked around the room, noting that few students actually seemed to have successfully cast the spell. Granger had, of course; Millicent's wand was a good five feet behind her. Granger had also dropped her wand, though for a completely different reason: Millicent had her in a headlock. Granger was groping around ineffectually, trying to grab her wand, but it was several inches beyond her grasp. Harry leaped forward and separated the two girls.

Finally it was quiet. "I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart announced. "Let's have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you—"

Longbottom! "A bad idea, Professor Lockhart. Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Severus scanned the room. Goyle and Crabbe? Zabini and Nott? Or…or maybe he could motivate Harry to learn to duel properly. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" he suggested.

"Excellent idea!" exclaimed Lockhart, as he cleared a space in the middle of the room for the boys to work. Snape had to bite his tongue again as Lockhart attempted to demonstrate a spell flamboyantly, but instead dropped his wand. He leaned into Draco and said, "Make your father proud." Malfoy smirked back at him.

Harry, meanwhile, was taking subtle jabs at Lockhart—very clever jabs, Severus had to admit. Maybe he'd inherited Lily's mind after all.

"Three—two—one—go!" Lockhart shouted.

Draco did not use the spell that Severus expected. "Serpensortia!" the boy shouted, and a large, black snake shot out of his wand and slithered towards the exit—and Justin Finch-Fletchley, who stood in the way. The king cobra hissed and raised itself to strike, as the other students ran away screaming.

All except for Harry, that is. He glided forward until he was level with the snake, and hissed—and, miraculously, the snake stopped. Severus shook off his stupor and vanished the snake wordlessly. Then he looked at Harry cautiously. The boy was a Parselmouth? How odd.

~~SS~~

"He must be a descendant of Slytherin," Aziz said authoritatively, later that evening.

"I thought that line had all died out," Severus retorted. "All except Voldemort, that is."

"There's always a bastard line somewhere," his genie replied smugly.

~~SS~~

The holidays finally arrived. Severus had been invited to join Uncle Ty and his family for Christmas. Normally he would be pleased to get a break from Hogwarts, but after the petrification of Justin Finch-Fletchley, he was worried about leaving. He declined the invitation—until he found out that his mother would be there, that is. Because it was the first time she'd returned to England for the holidays, he decided to go for a few days.

He returned to some rather shocking reports: Someone had stunned Crabbe and Goyle and left them locked in a closet; and Miss Granger had ended up in the hospital wing, half-cat. Ha! He thought. She should have known that you can't use Polyjuice for human-animal transfiguration.

~~SS~~

Despite the upheaval caused by the "Heir of Slytherin," the school year seemed to pass relatively quickly—with the exception of Lockhart's "surprise" on Valentine's Day. Final exams were now just a month away. The final Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, ended up being cancelled, due to the petrification of Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater. Penelope had been holding a mirror. Was that supposed to mean something?

"Is there a medusa around?" Aziz asked when he heard the news. "And if there were, would she know?"

Severus hummed softly. "She wouldn't, but the Granger girl would have. Any more clues on where the Horcrux is?"

Aziz sighed, as he did every night when his master asked the question. "You know I would have told you if I discovered anything. Are we dueling tonight?"

Since the failure of the dueling club, Severus had decided to take out his frustrations by dueling Aziz one evening a week. It wasn't quite like dueling a human; in fact, it was much harder, as the djinn could cast both wandlessly and non-verbally. "You just have to learn to do it yourself," the djinn told him frequently. Severus was good at both wandless and non-verbal magic when he had time to pull himself together, but it was different when he was in a fight.

~~SS~~

Despite his (and Aziz's) best efforts, there were no other clues leading them to believe a medusa was skulking around Hogwarts. Time passed more slowly after the latest attack, as they had to escort their students everywhere.And since Dumbledore had been put on leave, they didn't even have him watching their backs: Severus was jumpy.

Three days before the first exam, early in the morning, Severus was summoned to the greenhouses. "The Mandrakes are ready!" Pomona told him. "Are you ready to brew?"

"Right after my last class, which finishes at three," he said.

"And it takes…"

"Four hours," he said. "I'll work through dinner. I've got to find out what's going on."

Miss Granger knew. He was sure of it.

~~SS~~

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."

The emergency announcement spell was never used at Hogwarts except in times of dire need. When Severus heard Minerva's voice booming through the corridors, he knew another attack had happened. He dismissed the sixth years, ordering them back to their respective common rooms, and rushed up the stairs.

Most of the professors were sitting silently around the table in the staffroom. Severus couldn't stand still; instead, he paced around, as did Rolanda Hooch.

"It has happened," Minerva said quietly. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Severus stood still. He grabbed the back of a chair—he had to do something with his hands—and asked, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin left another message," Minerva proclaimed. "Right under the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

Filius started sobbing; Rolanda collapsed into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley."

Severus's head started spinning; he couldn't concentrate on what Minerva was saying. Damn. Of all people—Ginny Weasley! One of the two he was sworn to protect. He needed to get alone, ask Aziz to help with the search—

The staffroom door banged open, and Lockhart—beaming wildly—pranced in. "So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?"

How could the idiot doze off in the middle of an emergency? Well, Severus was nothing if not a quick thinker. "Just the man. The very man," he said in his silkiest voice. Lockhart preened. "A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart turned white.

"That's right, Gilderoy," Pomona bubbled cheerfully. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I—well, I—" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" squeaked Filius. Severus had never been so glad of the support of his fellow teachers.

"D-did I? I don't recall."

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested." Severus had been so angry when he'd heard that, he'd left the staff meeting early. He wasn't friends with Hagrid, but at least the half-giant tried to be competent. He continued: "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared at his colleagues, eyes bulging. Charity was biting her lip—no doubt to keep from laughing; Filius had put on his best poker face; Rolanda was tapping her fingers on the table and scowling; and Pomona was staring coldly, arms crossed over her chest.

"I—I really never—you may have misunderstood—"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy. Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last." There was a touch of triumph in Minerva's voice.

Lockhart sat petrified for what seemed like forever. At last he spoke up. "V-very well. I'll—I'll be in my office, getting—getting ready." He tried to look feeble as he left the room, but he was clearly trembling.

The door shut with an ominous click.

"Right," Minerva said with a smug grin. "That's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?"

Severus walked out of the room, knowing he would have to obey. But first, he hid himself in a window alcove. "Aziz!"

"Yes master?"

"Ginny Weasley has been taken. Alive. You know who she is?"

"I do. The redhead. With freckles and an attitude."

"And Harry's future wife. You know I promised…Well. We have to find her, Aziz. For her own safety, and for Harry's sake as well."

"I'll look."

~~SS~~

It wasn't until very late when Aziz came bursting into Severus's chambers. Severus, who'd decided that the best offense was a good defense, put a stasis spell on the Restorative Draught he'd been brewing. "Harry found her! They're covered in muck—heading for Dumbledore's chambers."

Severus sagged, feeling the tension drain out of his body. "Dumbledore's back?" Aziz nodded. "Thank God. But—Harry? What was he doing out of his common room?"

Aziz shrugged. "He's the perfect mix of his father and his mother, it seems."

Severus pulled on his cloak and slunk up the stairs as quickly as he could. Ahead of him, almost to Dumbledore's office, he heard something crying in pain—something not quite human. Then he heard Harry's voice at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, panting. "I've got something for you."

There was an alcove with a suit of armor halfway up the stairs. Severus slipped inside, watching the tableau taking place above him. Lucius was standing proudly, sneering down his nose at Harry; his house-elf, Dobby, stood to one side. Harry shoved something into Lucius's hand.

"What the—?"

Lucius extracted a squarish object from what looked like the remnants of a…sock? No matter; he'd tossed the thing aside—Dobby, ever the good elf, caught whatever it was—and then Severus saw what Lucius was holding. The diary.

"Aziz!" he whispered, and instantly his djinn was there. "He has the diary! He must have given it to…Ginny Weasley?"

"Oh!" Aziz exclaimed. "Let me go take a look!" He popped into invisibility.

Meanwhile Lucius, who'd been shouting at Harry, turned and started down the stairs. "Come, Dobby. I said, come."

The little house-elf didn't move. He was holding up the piece of cloth which was, in fact, a sock. "Master has given a sock. Master gave it to Dobby," he intoned reverently.

"What's that? What did you say?" Lucius growled.

"Dobby got a sock." The little house-elf seemed stunned. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby—Dobby is free."

Lucius stood, riveted to the spot, for a few seconds. Then he lunged up the stairs to Harry. "You've lost me my servant, boy!"

But a small voice, a house-elf voice, rang powerfully through the air: "You shall not harm Harry Potter!" Lucius came tumbling past Severus, bouncing almost comically down the stairs. He got to his feet shakily, reaching for his wand—but Dobby stood menacingly, his finger pointed at Lucius. At last, the blond man swung his cloak around him and hobbled away. Dobby turned to talk to Harry, and Severus used the chance to leave unnoticed.

~~SS~~

"It's no longer a Horcrux," Aziz told Severus later that night as he finished brewing the Restorative Draught. "It seemed to have been pierced by…a basilisk fang? Basilisk venom would certainly explain that sort of damage. And a basilisk would certainly explain the petrification."

"Am I free, then?" Severus asked hopefully, as he swept some diced garlic into his cauldron.

Aziz floated up behind him and put one ghostly finger on his Dark Mark. "I'm afraid not, Master. Severus, he definitely made more than one Horcrux. You've lost one tie to Voldemort, but only just the one."

Severus bowed his head, feeling that a heavy burden had been dropped on his shoulders. "We'd better go tell Dumbledore."