Lal was walking down the corridor of the train, having 'borrowed' a Gringotts house elf to get her and her trunk to the train station well before the appointed hour.

Honestly, why would she bother going through all that hustle and bustle when she could pay the goblins for the use of one of their bonded elves to get there in a snap along with her things, thus freeing her to complete her summer homework literally at the last second?

Lal hummed to herself. If she played her cards right, she could probably trick the Malfoys into selling her Dobby, thus giving her a loyal (read: rabid) minion willing to be her enabler.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a book, before happily diving into the fantasy novel she had bought.

It took her a few hours to register the presence of others.

"Nice of you to finally join us," said Hermione. "How long have you been reading that?"

"...What time is it?"

"About ten," said Hermione.

"Then for the past four hours."

Hermione stared.

"You've been on the train for the past four hours?"

"Actually I've been here for four and a half hours," corrected Lal. "I didn't see the point of returning to my relatives in Surrey when it was cheaper and faster to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for three days and bribe the goblins to let me use one of their bonded elves to get me here in seconds."

Plus side, she finally had her own broom. Too bad the Firebolt was hellishly expensive...and still in development.

"Why would you come so early though?"

"I already did my shopping, plus this meant I could avoid the rush of trying to get here on time," shrugged Lal.

Hermione tried to change the subject.

"What's a 'bonded elf'?" she asked.

"I think she means house elves," said Neville.

"A what?"

"Think brownie spirits, only instead of milk and honey they feed off the inherit magic that comes off manor wards and magical lines. Almost all the older families have them, though some of the less savory ones treat them as little more than slaves."

"That's barbaric!" said Hermione appalled.

"Yes, well the system has been in place for a while and every so often a muggleborn gets it in their head to try and 'free' them, but it only pisses off the pure bloods and nothing get done about it. Mostly because they keep insisted that the house elves should be paid when the only thing a good elf actually needs is the little bits of excess magic that is given off by their masters. An elf wouldn't understand why it needs to be freed, just that a human took it away from the only life it's ever known from some concieved idea that freedom was 'better' for them without even asking," said Lal. Seeing Hermione didn't get it, Lal tried a different approach. "Imagine a black child that had been placed with a white family suddenly being taken away from a pair of loving parents simply because of the color of their skin and placed with a black foster family that only agreed to take them in for the money."

Hermione winced at that. When she put it like that way, trying to forcibly free a bunch of elves without even asking was unimaginably rude.

"So how was your summer?"

"It was rather exhausting. I had to deal with a masochistic idiot who kept coming back for more no matter how much I barked at him," said Lal deadpan and without hesitation.

Hermione sweat-dropped.

"Why would you bark at someone?" asked Neville, rather confused.

"She means she yelled at him the same way she does the twins when they get out of hand," clarified Hermione.

"So how did you like the present I sent you?" asked Lal.

"It was really nice! I was finally able to use some of those arrangements that were in the book and I have a new greenhouse set up just for exotic seeds," said Neville happily. "I think I caught Gran looking at the book you gave me for Christmas a few times... she was the one who introduced me to the standard floral arrangements used by pure bloods when I asked."

As they chatted about their summer, Lal relaxed slightly. So far, nothing of importance seemed to be happening, compared to how her year went last time.

Though she paused when she saw a car flying outside the window.

"...Is that Ron Weasley?" asked Lal.

"I think it is. What is he doing?" said Hermione with disapproval.

"I'm going to find Percy or the twins. They should be warned about their brother's idiocy."

Percy was beyond furious, and made a point to alert McGonagall the second they arrived at the station. To say she was beyond pissed was putting it very mildly.

Lal groaned audibly the second Dumbledore announced Lockhart as the defense teacher.

"Anyone else want to ask Professor Flitwick if he can start an extracurricular dueling club so that we actually learn something about defense this year?" she asked loud enough for half the great hall to hear her. Including Flitwick, who seemed openly amused by this comment.

"You're not even going to give Professor Lockhart a try?" said Penelope upset.

"He's a glorified media whore, and anyone who spends that much time on their appearance isn't likely to know much about the actual subject outside of how to run away the fastest and then making sure he didn't chip a nail," deadpanned Lal. Several boys nodded in agreement to that comment. "Besides, Professor Flitwick is a champion duelist and quite a bit of the spells we learn in DADA are in fact battle charms. I refuse to waste an entire year's worth of Defense magic training because Dumbledore hired a damn glory-hound who couldn't have possibly done half the things he's claimed."

Dead silence.

"Explain your reasoning," said Roger Davies.

"Check the time frames in the books. They don't match up at all and in some cases they conflict entirely. He claims to have defeated a werewolf, and then in another book said he defeated a banshee at least two countries away...in the same day. No mention is made of port keys and if you researched the events in question I bet you anything the reports would say that someone else was responsible for dealing with the problem," said Lal bluntly. "After all, he's an honorary member of the Defense League which means he hasn't submitted any actual proof of his deeds to become a FULL member."

Complete silence as this sank in to the logic-driven minds of the Ravenclaws. She could already see several females vowing to prove her wrong, so she sweetened the pot.

"If you can give me one shred of proof that isn't forged that he actually did two things that he claims from the books, I'll pay you fifty galleons. And I'm opening up this bet to all four houses," said Lal loud enough for the entire hall to hear her. "Consequently if you find a way to prove Lockhart a complete fraud, I'll double it."

Lockhart...actually looked worried at hearing her declaration to pay anyone who could either prove or disprove his books.

Flitwick took Lal aside after the feast.

"You did that deliberately, didn't you?"

"That man is a glorified fake who steals the accomplishments of others. The only spell he's actually good at is the Obliviate charm, and I bet you anything he got the details of how the problem was dealt with before taking all the credit to make himself look better," said Lal flatly. "The money was just incentive to get the students genuinely interested in researching whether or not he's the real thing or not."

Specifically a pair of devious twins who wanted to set up a joke shop.

A month later, Fred and George managed to present her with a diary. Lockhart's diary, to be specific.

Once she confirmed it was the real thing, she sent it off via owl to Amelia Bones...and paid the twins a hundred galleons, making a point to count them out so they knew they weren't getting cheated out of their hard-earned money.

"What do you plan to do with the money anyway?"

"Don't let our mum know," said Fred.

"But we want to start a joke shop," said George.

"...Considering what I've seen of your work, you two might actually be successful at it, so long as you had enough capital for it. Enough to make Zonko's consider you a proper rival for the market anyway. Don't you two have older brothers?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Fred confused.

"Why haven't you owled one of your older brothers outside of Hogwarts to see if they can't set aside a bit of gold here and there to help jump start your business venture? You could even tell them that if things don't work out, that you would get an actual job to pay them back. Make it a family business."

"Not sure that would work... Mum would never allow it," said George. "Besides, I don't think they make that much anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"Have you seen our school supplies? We barely managed to buy Ginny a wand," said Fred depressed.

"...Are you sure it's not because your parents are too proud or embarassed to accept the money they've offered to give them so that you can have better things? For that matter, why haven't your parents thought to put aside a bit of your father's paycheck during the months you're at Hogwarts to pay for school supplies, since they save on the household expenses having their children out of the house?" asked Lal.

Seeing the stunned looks on their faces, Lal pinched the bridge of their nose.

"Look, owl your brothers and explain the idea of saving up so you can start a shop. If they say no, then come to me and I'll introduce you to a concept known as a 'small business loan'."

"A what?" said George.

"Muggle banks lend out money to their patrons using 'loans'. A small business loan is an agreed upon sum which the prospective business owner shows the bank their business plan and offers up collateral. If the bank agrees, then the patron is given a set amount of money to start the business with and has to make payments back towards the loan given with a set amount of interest."

Seeing the interest in their eyes, Lal waited.

"And you would be willing to give us one of these...loans?"

"We can make a written, binding agreement that we can have the goblins authenticate for us that will come with a seperate vault your mother will know nothing about. I will put a set amount of gold inside, and you can use it freely for supplies and buying the actual shop. In exchange you will make me a partner in the business once it's fully operational," she said bluntly. "However if you want me to believe you're serious about this, I want something from you in return."

"Name it," said Fred immediately.

"I want you to both get at least five O's in your O.W.L.'s, so I at least know you understand the material enough that you won't botch anything later," said Lal. "Besides, this will help convince your brothers that you are serious about owning a shop."

"Deal," said George.

A few days later, the twins borrowed Joan to send off a letter to Bill. You could imagine their surprise when he agreed to help set aside some of his paycheck to help them start their own shop, regardless of how their mother felt about the matter. Especially when Lal sent him a rough draft of the agreement she had made with the twins regarding the loan.

On the plus side, the act cemented the idea that Lal was like a younger, female version of Bill in the minds of the twins. Even their mother couldn't get them to behave as easily as Lal could.

Lockhart's arrest and subsequent banishment from the castle left Dumbledore with a real problem. Namely the fact that the so-called cursed had taken out the teacher before it was even Halloween, and that blowhard had been the only person to apply for the job in the first place!

Some of the teachers had to rotate who would teach the class until a replacement could be found.

Ironically it was the instigator of his current headache that provided the perfect solution.

Namely in the rather loud complaint asking why the headmaster didn't simply hire an Auror or Unspeakable on medical leave that was stuck doing desk work to teach until the year was over, because teaching couldn't possibly be as dangerous as field work.

Besides, the curse had already claimed the 'yearly sacrifice' as she so bluntly put it, so what did they have to fear since it was only temporary to begin with?

One owl to Amelia later and he had a new teacher to replace the idiot. An Auror who too old for real field work, but not quite old enough to qualify for full retirement. Considering the most he would have to do was dodge and grade papers, it was an easy way to tick off his last year as an Auror without having to put in too much effort so long as the students passed their exams.

Lal felt somewhat vindicated...now, to deal with one other annoyance that she distinctly recalled from her second year.

While the immunity to snake venom was nice, the headache she had to go through for it wasn't worth it. Never mind how the entire student body shunned her for something she had no control over.

How the hell was she supposed to know that snake-speak was considered 'evil' when she had only started to learn about magic?

Lal headed down to the Chamber of Secrets, once she confirmed Fawkes had his burning day already. Worse case scenario, she would call him for help.

Once she was before that extremely tacky relief, she hissed the phrase she remembered all too well.

~Speak to me Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts four!~

The mouth opened just as she remembered, and the great snake slid out. It hissed, and slithered up towards her. Not that she could tell where it was outside of the sound...she had her eyes firmly shut.

~Who dares to summon me?~

~I am Slytherin's Heir through rite of conquest. I ask that magic test my claim to be true, and if false may it strike me down where I stand.~

Considering the number of stories about 'Rite of Conquest', and how the victor won the spoils...never mind the fact that Riddle had twisted his magic beyond repair in his quest for power, she had high hopes that this would work. Besides, she already had the parselmouth ability.

A vague thrum in the back of her mind began to grow, until it reached into her very soul. Something deep within tested her claim, and she had no doubt if she failed she was dead.

She felt something sticky began to bleed from her forehead, trickling down her face...before the thrum stopped and settled.

Some instinct told her it was safe to open up her eyes, so she did...and stared straight into the gaze of the basilisk.

It's tongue flickered out of it's mouth, before it coiled around her protectively.

~Mistress,~ it hissed with pleasure and affection.

She wiped off her face and found a black ichor. Closer inspection revealed that the curse scar was inflamed.

It seemed Magic had decreed she was the true Heir of Slytherin as she had hoped. And had purged that damn scar for her.

~I'll work on getting something that you can go into. You shouldn't have to remain in this drafty sewer with limited food,~ she told the snake. ~Also, did Slytherin ever give you a name?~

~My name is Nidhogg, Mistress,~ hissed the snake.

She stroked it's nose, which it bopped into affectionately.

~I'll try to visit more often, but you are to take no orders save from me, regardless of the source. If anyone else comes down here and attempts to order you, I want you to chase them out. Understood?~

Nidhogg hissed in agreement.