Author's Note: Apologies if this chapter's title is misleading. Nothing really important happens until the end… It's really just filler… You may as well just skip the first scene… Anyway, this chapter takes a while to get going, but things do start rolling eventually. So with all your patience, please enjoy:

Chapter 22 - Wham!

"Miss Granger," said Professor Lockhart. "A pleasure as always. Congratulations on making the semi-finals of the dueling tournament by the way."

Two half-melted candles on his desk were all that illuminated his gleaming smile.

"Is Ginny Weasley a better witch than me?" Hermione demanded. "Is Harry Potter better?"

"We all have different strengths," Professor Lockhart said diplomatically, leaning backwards in his chair. "You are intelligent, and one of the most naturally talented spellcaster I have ever seen, but-"

"Enough nonsense," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. Instead it just rose several octaves. "Save the 'everyone has a skill' balderdash for the proletariat. My strength is that I'm the best at everything. I'm supposed to be the next Merlin, but I was bested by a couple of… of… above-average first years."

Hermione tried to calm herself, willing the tears not to fall.

"Hmm… Are you quite sure about that?" Asked Professor Lockhart, rubbing his chin. "I seem to recall you losing to Harry Potter- a talented first year by any definition- but also to… Ronald Weasley? You must pardon my evaluation, Miss Granger, but as Ronald's instructor he's never seemed anything more than a mediocre wizard, and that's frankly a charitable evaluation."

Hermione clenched her fists, but didn't try to deny the insult. How could she? The results were the results.

Professor Lockhart laughed. "Perhaps I've been wasting my time with you."

She was being tossed aside? Of course she was, she'd lost. Why in the world would Professor Lockhart bother with her if she wasn't the next Merlin? Why would anyone? She was well aware that other people didn't really like her- they only pretended because they thought she was the best witch, and therefore worth befriending. But so what? She just had to be the best and everything would be fine.

"No," Hermione said.

"No?" Professor Lockhart asked.

"Harry was taught to duel by Sirius Black, and Ginny by Professor Quirrell. That's why they beat me. I appreciate all you've taught me about the mind, Professor Lockhart, but it has little application in a duel. I wasn't properly prepared."

Professor Lockhart frowned. "If I may be brutally honest: Ginny and Harry have more aptitude in dueling than you. That's why they were more successful in the tournament."

"Then teach me the spells I need to beat them," Hermione tried to demand. Instead she sounded pleading and pathetic. "I can't lose again! I can't!"

"Miss Granger, forgive me." Professor Lockhart chuckled. "I was only teasing you. I don't care that you lost a silly dueling tournament. I care not at all that you are an inferior duelist to Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley."

"Well I care!" Hermione bellowed. "I have to be the best! Just tell me how! I don't care how hard it is, how boring, how long. I'm not lazy like everyone else. I'll do the work to make it happen! I'll do whatever it takes to be great!"

Professor Lockhart shook his head, with a pitying smile. "Protego. Expelliarmus. Of the magic taught in Hogwarts, that's really all you need for dueling. Harry and Ginny have already mastered it. There is nothing in the curriculum that I can teach you that will give you an advantage over them. Now, enough with this silliness, let us proceed with Legilimency."

"N-no," Hermione said. Something about Professor Lockhart seemed off, she was quite sure she was being baited, but… But it didn't matter. She had to be the best. She wanted to be the best. Not because of some silly promise she'd made to Mum, but something far, far deeper. "If there's nothing in the curriculum, then teach me something outside it!"

Professor Lockhart tilted his head, and pretended to consider. He ought not bother. "I do know of one…" He paused. Hermione shook, just spit it out already! "A spell which if mastered would make you undefeatable in a duel… But Miss Granger, most would call it dark. And further…" Professor Lockhart smirked. "It's very advanced, far too much for a first year."

"I just want to win," Hermione said desperately.

"Very well," Professor Lockhart said. "If you insist, I will teach it to you."

Hermione gave a sigh of relief. She was very desperate, you see.

Professor Lockhart described the spell, the wand movement, the incantation. Hermione frowned. She'd heard of it before… No, no, she didn't have an eidetic memory afterall, surely she was mistaken. And if she wasn't… Well then…

…She glanced at Professor Lockhart, staring at her expectantly…

…So calm…

…N-nothing to be concerned about…

…Because all roads led to Rome…

She was Hermione Granger. A-and logically speaking… She could do this. She would do this.

Hermione practiced against air, thrusting her wand back and forth in a zigzag pattern that quite resembled a lightning bolt, and mouthing the words of the incantation which sounded near a nursery rhyme. Professor Lockhart gave her a nod when she'd mastered the spell, and was ready to proceed with the next step of instruction- which really ought to be practical application.

"Now," said Professor Lockhart. "There is no use to this curse if you cannot use it on another witch or wizard. Let us run an experiment." He brought out the horrid Rita Skeeter's jar, and unfastened the lid (when had h-). "Miss Granger, I must warn you, this spell is only to be used on enemies, do you understand?"

"Should we change her back?" Hermione asked.

"No," said Professor Lockhart excitedly, like a child unwrapping a present. "The spell works more easily on smaller animals. It is quite advanced, Miss Granger, but I know you can do it. I believe in you."

Hermione nodded, her heart racing with the same excitement it always did whenever she performed a new spell. Indeed, perhaps too much excitement, she couldn't quite keep her wand steady and felt rather sick. She took a breath, then another. She was being silly, it was just another spell. She pointed her vinewood wand at the beetle, thrust it in a lightning bolt pattern and said,

"Avada Kedavra."

The room was briefly illuminated in the green light of a successful spell. Hermione was flush with the triumph of conquering the advanced material. The beetle had shriveled up, its legs curling inwards like it was… Err… But that was… Surely not…

Yes, Professor Lockhart seemed quite calm. Everything was fine. This was fine. Just fine.

Hermione tapped the beetle. But it was in some sort of err… heavy sleep? Or perhaps in a coma? "Wake up," she said softly.

But the beetle remained still. It was… It was dead.

Surely not.

"Wake up," Hermione said willfully, poking Skeeter with her wand. "Wake up! Stop faking you horrid woman! Stop it!"

"Enough of that. It's in poor taste Miss Granger," said Professor Lockhart. "Regardless, you ought to be celebrating. Your Killing Curse was quite successful. Congratulations! You've learned the only curse worth a damn in a duel."

Wait? Wait… so it… but it couldn't be… After all… Professor Lockhart had been willing… to teach her? Yes! That's right! And if it had truly been The Killing Curse he would have never… Why would he?

And she wouldn't have been capable of it regardless! She'd read the textbooks, she remembered them almost word-for-word, and they quite agreed that the words and the wand movement weren't enough! You had to mean it! Only a despicable, vile, evil sociopath would be capable of such a thing! It just wasn't possible that Pure and Innocent Hermione was capable of magic so evile!

Hermione desperately pawed the beetle. Still it refused to respond! Stupid, lying, impossible woman! Why! Wouldn't! She! Move? Why wouldn't she move?

Hermione accidentally poked off one of its spindly legs. She put it back in place quickly, good as new!

"You're wrong!" Hermione insisted. "For the Killing Curse to work you have to mean it! You have to want to extinguish their life so much you'd be willing to break apart your soul to do so!"

"Sentimental nonsense," said Professor Lockhart smugly. "If you have the magic, the incantation, and the pronunciation, your intentions hardly matter. You simply pull the trigger. It's all very simple. It isn't a particularly hard curse to master. But it is powerful, and most are too foolish to dare it. Now Miss Granger, do you feel any different?"

Of course she felt bloody different!

Rita Skeeter was dead. Because…

"I… I cast an Unforgivable!" Hermione said at last.

"You didn't answer my question," Professor Lockhart said, in a gleeful sing-song voice. "Has your soul shattered? Are you irreversibly broken? Or perhaps are you…" Professor Lockhart's eyes narrowed. "Exactly the same."

Of course not! What a positively preposterous notion! Did he have any idea what he'd done? He'd made her cast a bloody Unforgivable! Forced her! If anyone found out, she'd be spending the rest of her life in Azkaban! She flicked the beetle with her wand. Bugger, still dead! Stupid wanker!

This was quite the conundrum she'd gotten hersel- No! No, no, no! He'd tricked her! She'd only done it because he'd tricked her! Why, perhaps she could even say that he'd used the Imperius on her, or perhaps even a simple Confundus would do it! No, no, what if they tested her with veritaserum? Wait! Perhaps she could perform a False Memory Charm on herself, then she would even be able to believe it! Wait… Wait…

"You're working for Lord Voldemort aren't you?" Asked Hermione testily.

"Yes," said The Very Evil Gilderoy Lockhart (and now confirmed neo-nazi- what a wanker!), who was perhaps even more dastardly than The Still Somewhat Evil But No Longer Seeming Quite As Bad Neville Longbottom.

"That's why you've been teaching me, so I can retrieve a… a philosopher's stone hidden in a magic veil. So The Dark Lord can return from his lesser state, and use the elixir of life to return to his original body!"

"Yes," said The Very Evil Gilderoy Lockhart. "Now that you know, what will you do?"

"I…"

He knew! He knew, he knew, HE KNEW! If he asked her to do anything for him, she really had no choice unless she wanted to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban.

But Lord Voldemort was evil. He was wizard Hitler after all, and becoming a nazi was far too embarassing to ever consider.

Really, there was only one solution to this mess which had been thrust upon Innocent Hermione. One final solution to all her problems.

Pure and Innocent Hermione Granger pointed her wand at The Very Evil Gilderoy Lockhart, who was so monstrous he could hardly even be considered human, and quite reasonably said, "Avada Kedavra!"

His nose bled.

Hermione felt herself grow cold. Her legs felt quite like jello.

A high-pitched, cold laughter filled the room.

"AHAHAHAHA! Bravo! A splendidly rational response to such blackmail!" Lockhart's smile was as cruel as it was genuine. Perhaps the first real smile she'd ever seen from him. "Ah Yes. We will be able to work with you, Miss… Hermione… Yes, you've earned my respect, it's about time we called each other by our first names… But I must confess I never liked mine. You see, I hated my father, always so strict, always so rigid, condemning me to a life in Azkaban for trying to save our world… So instead of calling me Barty, why don't you call me…"

Darkness spread across Hermione's peripherals. Surrounding her. Engulfing her. Overtaking her.

"Junior."

XOXOXOXOX

"Explain," Snivell- Severus said, his dark eyes glittering in the dungeon's flickering torchlight. After the Dueling Tournament's conclusion, Severus had dragged Padfoot back to his office. The shelves were packed with all sorts of Potions, like ole Snivellus had locked himself away brewing potions obsessively like a little freak. Wouldn't have been too surprising if the flasks had some streaks of grease from his nose- course they were all meticulous and spotless- ole Snivelly knew his potions. Ooh, one of 'em was gold with little droplets popping out of it like one of them muggle soft drinks, was that a bottle of felix felicis? That'd be fun, maybe he oughta' nick it. Show it to Prongs back in the Gryffindor Common Room, he'd think of something fun… Oh right…

"Why did you not fight back, Black?" Severus asked. "What is your game?"

"What are you on about Snivellus?" Padfoot chirped cheerfully, putting back the bottle of felix felicis. "I fought…" Severus was glaring, and Sirius swallowed his reply. Right. Serious, Sirius, be serious. Just tell Severus, just like he'd practiced.

"..." said Sirius. Prongs would have laughed, he'd have said, 'C'mon Padfoot old boy, that ain't what you practiced. Let's try again.' Padfoot gave it another go. "Err… Dumbledore. He err… He told me that I used to… Bully! And err… Looking back… It wasn't… It was… That is to say… Err… It was bad, wasn't it?"

Smooth one Padfoot. But there wasn't really a good way of saying, 'Sorry I tried to murder you.'

"Surely you knew," said Severus softly.

"Err… Maybe… It was a long time ago… And sometimes I let myself listen to Moony… But most of the time…" Sirius swallowed, and admitted. "...Didn't. I didn't really think of you as a person I reckon." Padfoot continued. "But can ya blame me? You lot were all future death eaters! And I wasn't wrong was I? You, Mulciber, Avery, bloody Rudolfus Lestrange, you all joined You-Know-"

Sirius shook himself. What was he doing? Falling for the same lies he'd told himself all those years ago. He could almost hear Prongs screaming at him. 'None of that matters! You've got to be better than this Padfoot!'

"I've noticed how you treat Harry," said Sirius. "Like I did you… And I get it. I do. When I look at Harry I can almost see… But you've noticed too haven't you, Severus? Harry may look like him, but he's not Jam-"

"Cocky, arrogant, always chasing after glory, and a Seeker to boot," said Snivell- Severus coldly. "Proficient in dueling, and he just can't seem to find a comb. The Boy Who Lived is no James Potter, I must say… He's even more loathsome."

"If that's how you feel, take it out on me," said Sirius, wringing his hands. "Just like this afternoon. I'm the one who… Who bullied you… Not Harry, nor anyone else. None of these kids have done anything to you."

Severus's lip curled. "Whatever do you mean? I'm forced to teach these snot-nosed imbeciles. Surely you can see that poor, ugly, pathetic Snivellus is the victim."

"I… Why are you here then, if you hate it so much?" Sirius asked. "Nobody's forcing you… Right?"

"I see right through you Black. Your contrition is a charade, a farce, as false as all those sweet nothings you used to whisper to all the pretty witches." Severus's eyes glittered. "You've always thought yourself so very clever, so very superior. Always one step ahead of the rules, and two steps above them. An animagus at what… Fourteen? Fifteen? So very, very clever. I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't mind if I broke the Fidelius Charm for you. So why don't you test yourself against The Veil of Klyeaezrf. I know you've been dying to do it, haven't you Padfoot?"

"The one Dumbledore put in place to protect The Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who?"

"The very same," said Severus smugly. "It took me oh… Ten whole minutes to solve. It was really quite simple, a gullible first year could solve it in an hour if they applied themselves. But somehow… Somehow I find myself thinking that you'll be like The Dark Lord, staring and staring at the truth and never seeing it. Driving yourself to madness to look for a solution."

And Sirius soon found himself staring into a certain veil hidden in a certain room. There was a grand stone archway, and what almost looked like a dark curtain fluttered and swayed creating what seemed to be a permeable wall, although it was completely opaque, like oily water. He had the strangest feeling that somebody was there, on the other side of The Veil. Atop the stone archway was an inscription: First Law. And on the bottom, in Dumbledore elegant handwriting a single word was scrawled: Klyeaezrf.

First Law seemed fairly straightforward, but Klyearzrf? What the bloody hell was a klyeaezrf? He turned it over in his head several times, but for the life of him he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Severus sighed. "Ahh yes that little hint Dumbledore gave The Dark Lord. It's the key to the puzzle, but unless you're… Unless you've the background of Tom Riddle you will never solve it. Not that it helped him of course."

Severus explained what Klyearzrf meant. But how did that help?

Padfoot glared at The Veil, and slowly it became translucent. It was Prongs and Lily and baby Harry, inside a little house. And then there was a flash of light, and he was there. You-Know-Who. Prongs didn't even have a bloody wand.

But Sirius did.

"Don't come," said Prongs, not to You-Know-Who, but to Sirius. "This is a trick. If you come, you'll be the one trapped here dying! Don't believe The Veil's lies!"

Sirius tightened his grip on his wand. "It's in there ain't it? The Stone?"

Severus nodded.

Sirius put his hand on The Veil. It was cold. His fingers felt numb. Unfeeling. Beyond The Veil was death, but death was the only way to save Prongs.

And don't get him wrong, Prongs was Padfoot's mate, but the problem was that he knew it was just an illusion. Sirius was all for risking his life to save a friend, but he wasn't just gonna throw it away.

"I'll die if I go in there," said Sirius softly. "The First Law of Alchemy is Equivalent Exchange. To receive something of value something of equal value must be given. To retrieve The Stone of Immortality, you must give up your life."

"Balderdash," said Severus, smirking. "If your love is pure, you've nothing to fear. But if your love is false, then yes, you will die."

…Klyearzrf… Sirius laughed as he realized the solution. Typical of Dumbledore, You-Know-Who would never realize. Hah! And after about an hour, and a few nifty charms, Sirius Black had stolen the Philosopher's Stone from The Veil of Klyearzrf.

"Who?" Demanded Severus angrily. "I'm not such a fool to think you did it unaided! Let me guess, The Great James Potter and his best mate Sirius Black."

"No," Sirius admitted, his heart cracking from a pain never forgotten. "James… For Lily. You?"

Severus breathed in sharply. He stopped pacing, and stared into The Veil. Perhaps he was staring at something beyond, or perhaps he was staring at Sirius's reflection. And just when Sirius thought he wouldn't answer, Severus replied, "Lily. For James."

Oh…

"Oh bloody hell," said Sirius. After all this time… After all this time… To finally realize the two of them were the same… He could have laughed, if it had been the least bit funny. "So that's why you're here. I… I… I understand…"

He put a hand on Severus's shoulder.

Severus recoiled like he'd been burnt. "Get your filthy hands off me Black! I don't want your pity!"

Whoever said anything about pity?

"I always hated Lily," Sirius admitted in a whisper. "If it weren't for her, then James would have been all… So… That's why I…"

It was time… Past time really, it was years overdue. He had to tell somebody. It could be a secret no longer.

"It was never because you were tailing us, or because you were annoying, or any other balderdash I might have fed James or Remus... That bugger Wormtail thought it was funny, I should've known something was off about him… It wasn't even that I hated you…" Sirius sighed, and forced himself to meet Severus's harsh gaze. "It was about Lily… And James… And… me…"

Sirius hesitated. When James had needed him most, when James had asked him to be his secret keeper, he'd pushed the responsibility on Wormtail. Why?

Because when he looked through The Veil, when he looked at James dying, when he did the mental calculus of his life or his best friend's, he chose his own. There was nobody in the world, in any world, Sirius cared about more than James, and yet…

His love was a lie. Sirius was a Black, through and through, he was incapable of experiencing something so beautiful.

"It was because," Sirius confessed. "It was because if Lupin had killed you, it would have ruined her, and… She'd have blamed James. Moony would never be the same, and Wormtail wouldn't be any competition. I told them I was being reckless, I told myself the same, but you know and I know that that was a lie. I knew what I was doing. I was acting rationally. The truth is I wanted James all to myself."

Severus stared at him, his dark eyes harsh as Mother's, glittering like diamonds in the firelight.

"…I am not a child." Severus said coldly. "I do not seek companionship. Cease whatever… Whatever abominable connection you're trying to forge. You need not explain yourself, I have always been able to see your soul perfectly beneath that handsome veneer, and it's pitch black. I will always hate you. You will always hate me. We're enemies. We will always be enemies."

…So… Despite Padfoot spilling his guts, despite understanding him perfectly, old Snivellus still hated him? He still wasn't forgiven?

In The Veil, James turned into Severus. And Sirius was able to walk away without so much as a second glance, unbothered by Severus's cries for help. His trance was only broken when he accidentally collided with a student on his way back to his chambers. She hurried past him.

"Stop," said Sirius softly. "I said stop!"

But words weren't enough, he had to grab her cloak. The student finally stopped, hid something away, and turned to face him. Ginny Weasley was pale. Trembling. Like an inmate from Azkaban.

Sirius instinctively grasped his wand. Was this why he was still alive? For one last act? Something only a Black would be capable of?

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked.

"I had to use the loo," said Ginny, without so much as a stutter.

"Really?" Sirius asked. "What'd you put in your pocket?"

"Nothing," said Ginny.

"I saw something," said Sirius. "Lying to me would be a very bad idea."

Ginny reached into her cloak, and showed him a little black journal. "It's a diary. Hogwarts has been hard for me. It keeps me calm."

Bollocks. He needed to insist she give him the diary. She was the spitting image of Peter Pettigrew. Always finding the toughest kid in the schoolyard, sucking up to Hermione, to Harry... Until she found someone even badder. He knew her modus operandi. He tightened his grip on his wand.

"Give it to me," said Sirius.

"It's private," said Ginny. "I won't."

Sirius held out his hand. "I insist."

"No," said Ginny.

Sirius's hand tightened against his wand. "I'm a teacher. You're a student. You do as I say. If it's just a normal diary I'll give it back."

Ginny put the diary back into her cloak. "No."

"Petrificus Totalus," said Sirius. He took the diary from Ginny and released her. He flipped through the pages, but they were empty.

"Bombarda," Ginny hissed.

Sirius canceled the charm with a wave of his wand. He'd been in this situation before. Others might have had pity. He knew better. He'd keep the diary, but he'd do now what he should have done with Pettigrew. Now was the time to act.

…The pipes rattled above them.

Now was the time to act. Ginny Weasley was The Heir of Slytherin. If he didn't act now, she'd slither out of trouble, hurt more innocents. He had to do it. He had Black blood flowing through his veins. He'd tried to kill Severus, and he hadn't done half the things The Heir had. He was capable of it. He could be a murderer.

Ginny took back the diary. "I really do need to use the loo." She was even smirking as she said it.

He tried to aim at her back, but his wand shook impotently until it clattered against cobblestone.

The Heir of Slytherin strutted away, taking her evidence with her.

He heard something moving above him. In the pipes. Away. To someone else…

…He'd had her, and he'd let her slip through his fingers…

Maybe she wasn't Peter. Perhaps it was an unfair competition, after all he'd thought Harry was James and been mistaken…

Bollocks. He wouldn't lie to himself any longer. She was The Heir of Slytherin and he'd let her go. Not for any noble reason, but because Sirius Black really, really didn't want to go back to the dementors of Azkaban.

XOXOXOX

Somebody shook him. Oh no. No, no, no…

"Ron wake up," said Fred.

"It's Percy," said George.

"He's been petrified."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! In all seriousness, that first scene in this chapter is the most important in the entire story. I've now finished rough drafts for the entirety of the story! I'll probably clean them up a little, but there's no doubt that we'll be getting an ending, and the last line will not be changing. Let me know if you predicted that Lockhart was actually Crouch Jr. There was also a specific chapter in which the switcheroo takes place, I'm curious if any of you can spot it. Let me know.

And now onto reviews:

Guest - I'm mostly just going to ignore this. I have decided to change what Malfoy says in chapter 20 because it did feel a little out of character, and made him feel misogynistic in a way that didn't really fit the narrative. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but specific complaints about a story are very different from personal attacks. So bye, I guess.

Merendinoemiliano - Thanks!

ViviTheFolle - At last, Lockhart's secret is exposed, he's actually the biggest creep in all of cannon! At a certain point he really was Lockhart though. I wanted to create a contrast between Lockhart and the imposter, which may have had the unintentional effect of making him seem like a pedophile.

Hermione wasn't expelled from Eton, but because she's rarely failed she doesn't know how to deal with failure, and thinks it's literally the end of the world. I'm pretty much with you when it comes to Hermione's cannon background. I think it's much more likely that Hermione would have parents that simply weren't so invested in what she was doing, that were more interested in their dental practice, and that yearning for their attention would push Hermione into perfectionism. Something was going on in her homelife in cannon that was really strange, seeing as how she wiped their memories and never invited her friends over. In a vacuum, that would be the background I would have given Hermione. But that's too similar to Ron, so I went this route instead. I would like to add that while Hermione's mother in this story may have been Hermione's first push into perfectionism, but the real driving force was the way she was treated by her classmates. They admired her for her academic excellence, but her personality itself was always something that drove people away. Take away her brilliance, and she's not sure what she has left. This was true in cannon, and it's true in this fic as well.