Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER SEVENTEEN –

The Basilisk

'There,' Hermione pointed halfway down the page. 'Read that.'

'What's he want with that book?' Ron eyed Hermione's copy of Hogwarts: A History disgustedly. 'You've been trying to get us to read it since first year. Give it a rest, OK?'

Hermione ignored him. 'Just read it,' she told Harry.

Harry glanced at the stack of fourth-year essays. He really should be getting stuck into them, but Hermione had yet to be wrong about something in this book. Sighing, he focused on the page.

'On the matter of discipline, Hogwarts has seen numerous trends come and go over the centuries, ranging from simple lines through to disembodiment. Numerous caretakers have taken it upon themselves to pick up what they viewed as a shortfall in school policy with regard to priorities – several Headmasters (see p. 174, 962, 2653) have considered that academic achievement was far more important that controlling adolescent exuberance, and that students learn to see the error of their ways through example, constructive criticism and applying themselves to beneficial tasks during detention. This has, at times, been at odds with the attitude of the caretakers in their employ, who have often demonstrated a malicious lust for cruelty and torture.

'Hogwarts' least popular Heads had a more medieval approach to discipline, which is possibly what made them so disliked. Forms of punishment approved and practiced under their directorship include the Cruciatus curse and the Sarcophagus of Ill Dreams (a personal favourite of Phineus Nigellus). Two things common to all of the Heads who favoured these more devastating disciplinary actions: they had all been Head of Slytherin House, and never once did they impose any punishments upon students from this House during their years in charge of Hogwarts.

'But the most severe punishments carried out during Hogwarts' long history occurred when the school was first established. Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, was famous for demanding sacrifices from those who failed to measure up to his ideal: the donation of a part of themselves. Fingers seem to have been the most common offering –'

Harry broke off, his jaw dropping. 'Fingers?'

'Surely you're not suggesting Harry cut off one of his fingers?' Ron stared at Hermione, horrified.

'Not a whole finger, no.' Hermione sounded hurt that Ron would believe such a thing.

'And only part of a finger would work any better?' Ron threw back.

'It might.' Hermione bit her lip. 'If we do it right.'

'How's Harry supposed to remove only part of a finger? What's he gonna use – a fingernail?' Ron blinked as he realised what he had just said. 'Hey … that just might work.'

'I don't think so,' Harry chipped in. 'The way this reads, it sounds like it's going to have to be gruesome and cutting my nails wouldn't fit the bill.'

'I wasn't thinking of a nail,' said Hermione. Both Harry and Ron looked at her expectantly. 'I was thinking of a bone.'

'A bone?' Ron frowned.

'It's part of the human body and it can easily be regrown.'

'I wouldn't call regrowing bones easy,' said Harry. 'And anyway, when Lockhart removed my bones, it didn't hurt at all. I still don't think it will be enough.'

'It depends what spell you use. I'm sure Dumbledore would know something which will make it hurt like crazy.'

'If he doesn't, Snape will,' muttered Ron. Hermione ignored him.

Harry thought about this a moment and then said 'It's a plan. So, when do we run it by Dumbledore?'

'What, you don't want to go see him now?'

'It's late, Ron,' said Hermione.

'And besides,' added Harry, 'McGonagall has been watching me ever since she found out I've been sneaking out.'

'She doesn't know about Dumbledore's tomb, does she?' asked Ron worriedly.

'I don't think so,' Harry replied. 'But we need to be careful.'

'OK, so when do we tell him?'

'Hogsmeade visit's the weekend after next,' Hermione pointed out. 'You and I can swap with Polyjuice Potion, and I'll stay here and do your correcting for you. McGonagall will be busy watching me because she'll think you're still here, and you can go into Hogsmeade with Ron and Apparate to London from there.'

'McGonagall will know I didn't correct the essays because your handwriting is different to mine.'

'So use one of Fred and George's Forging quills. I've got some upstairs,' Ron offered.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. 'What have you got them for?'

'I've been writing love letters to Crabbe and Goyle –' ('What?' yelped Hermione) '– and letting them think they're from anonymous Slytherin students.'

'Why?' asked Harry, throwing a quick glance at Hermione who looked like she was in shock.

'Distract them from us. They've been caught spying on us once already and so I decided to give them something to keep them too busy to keep it up.' Ron gazed at Hermione. 'I haven't been cheating on you, honest.'

With a visible effort, Hermione pulled herself together. 'And who have you been getting to help you?'

Ron's ears started to turn red. 'What do you mean?'

'You hate putting quill to parchment – you've spent six and a half years trying to get me to write your essays for you – so yeah, you must have had help with this.'

Ron continued to redden.

'Ron?' growled Hermione.

'Don't go getting your wand all twisted; it wasn't anyone for you to get jealous over,' Ron protested testily, backing away from her. 'It was Ginny, OK.'

'Ginny?' Hermione looked like she felt she had been betrayed, Ginny not confiding in her.

'Ginny.'

The day of the next Hogsmeade visit dawned cold and clear. Thick clouds had spent the last few days dumping a couple of extra feet of snow over the landscape but they had now blown away, allowing the winter sun to burst into a million lights as it reflected and refracted on the virgin snow; Harry blinked against it as he wandered into Hogsmeade, hand in hand with Ron.

'Not yet,' muttered Harry as Ron went to let go.

'This is ridiculous,' Ron muttered back. 'Everybody's staring.'

'No one's taking the slightest bit of notice of us; they'd be staring if we didn't look like a young couple in love.'

Ron tried to pull away. 'You're not going to try and kiss me, are you? I'm a male!'

'You're the one who goes in for kissing males, not me.' Harry took another sip of Polyjuice from the flask Hermione had given him.

'What? When have I ever –?'

'You kissed George the night you were attacked by that eagle. You were only just conscious and thought he was Hermione. Don't worry,' Harry grinned at his friend's horrified face. 'He forgave you for cheating on him with Hermione long ago.'

Ron swore.

'You're not acting like a loving couple.' Ginny came up behind them, grinning widely.

'Why aren't you with Neville?' Harry was surprised to see her alone.

'Seamus and Dean dragged him off to Honeydukes.'

'And you didn't go with them?' Ron glared at his sister for finding his discomfort amusing.

'He said he wanted to buy me something special – well, it is my birthday in two weeks – and it has to be a surprise.' She rolled her eyes. 'So, how are you getting to–?'

'I'm meeting Remus near the Hog's Head in fifteen minutes.'

'OK, if I were you,' Ginny gazed up the street, 'I'd cross over to the other side of the street. Wander up towards the Hog's Head slowly, stopping to check out what's in Gladrags and Scrivenshaft's windows, even press your nose against the glass at Scrivenshaft's because Hermione would definitely do that. Turn down the side street so if anyone sees you they'll just think you're going to Madam Puddifoot's, then keep going and come at the pub from behind.'

'Thanks.' Harry grinned at her.

'You're supposed to be in love with him, not me,' Ginny reminded him.

'What?'

'You were looking at me all lovey-dovey. Hermione wouldn't do that.'

'Haven't you got anything good to say about anybody?' Ron scowled at her. 'Come on, we're going to be late.'

'In love, remember,' she called after them.

'Yeah, yeah,' muttered Ron as he slouched up the street, both hands firmly in his pockets.

'You know, you two are going to have everybody thinking there's been another spat.' Lupin's eyes twinkled mischievously as Harry and Ron approached him.

'Oh, shut up!' Ron snapped at his former teacher. Lupin's brows rose.

'Ginny just gave us an assessment,' Harry explained as Lupin started to lead them away from the Hog's Head. They had just passed it when the side door opened. Lupin quickly grabbed Harry and Ron by the shoulders and forced them behind a row of dustbins.

'What is it?' whispered Ron as Lupin cautiously peered between the cans.

'It's all right.' Remus visibly relaxed. 'It's only Sybill.'

'What's she doing out of school?' wondered Ron. 'She hardly ever even comes downstairs.'

'Probably buying booze. She almost constantly smells of cooking sherry.' Harry screwed his nose up in disgust. They watched as she staggered around behind the building, then almost jumped out of their skins as the chill air was shattered by a scream and what sounded like several pieces of metal crashing into each other.

They exchanged puzzled glances. 'Perhaps she tripped over some dustbins,' Ron speculated.

'There weren't any,' said Lupin, puzzlement creasing his brow. He carefully crept out from their hiding place, Harry and Ron close behind.

'Where'd she go?' Ron gazed the length of the back alley, very free of anything, let alone dustbins and blind-drunk seers. 'She didn't have time to reach the other end.'

'Apparated?' Harry guessed. 'If she was drunk, maybe she got splinched.'

'Then where's the part she left behind?'

'Come on,' Lupin herded them back around the corner. 'That scream was loud. We'd better go before anybody else comes to investigate.'

'But what about Professor Trelawney?'

'I'm inclined to agree with Harry. She Apparated whilst drunk and, while she may not have splinched herself, it was probably still a rather unpleasant experience.'

Harry could relate to that. When wasn't Apparition an unpleasant experience? And with a head suffering the effects of alcohol …

But if the explanation of Professor Trelawney's disappearance was that simple, why did Remus glance back towards the Hog's Head as they Apparated to Grimmauld Place, a very worried expression on his pale face?

'I understand you have something important to tell me.' Dumbledore gazed at Harry importantly.

'Hermione thinks she might have worked out a way to get past the curse protecting Hufflepuff's cup.' Harry explained the idea inspired by Salazar Slytherin's cruelty.

'Interesting.' Dumbledore nodded slowly as Harry finished. 'It just might work. However, I would advise against using the Summoning Charm again to retrieve the cup, just in case Miss Granger's theory is incorrect.'

'Then how are we supposed to get it?' asked Ron. 'Hermione said it was too far down to just grab.'

'I would suggest using something which is the right size and shape to fit into the Horcrux's hiding place and which demonstrated a few years ago that it could quite happily come and go from that hiding place without any curses affecting it.'

Harry's jaw dropped. 'You mean use a Basilisk?'

'You want to put one of those things back in the Chamber of Secrets?' cried Ron aghast.

'Only temporarily. Harry should have no difficulty both controlling and destroying it.'

'But –'

'I have every confidence in your abilities, Harry.' Dumbledore gave a small smile. 'Firstly, however, we shall need to grow a Basilisk and for that, we shall need the right ingredients. I believe that Mr Neville Longbottom owns a toad?'

'You want us to nick Trevor?' Ron looked like he was in the middle of a bad dream and Harry could fully sympathise.

'Borrow,' Dumbledore stressed. 'I would never encourage students to do anything illegal like steal.'

'But you're encouraging us to grow an illegal creature.' Harry couldn't see the difference.

'No,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'That shall be a task for Professor Snape. And concerning your belief that removing your bone shall need to be painful,' Dumbledore firmly steered the discussion away from Basilisks, 'I believe I know of just the spell for that job too; Severus should have little difficulty teaching Miss Granger to successfully perform it. The question, Harry,' he looked Harry squarely in the eye, 'is, are you prepared to endure the suffering it will inflict?'

'If it gets us that Horcrux, yes.' Harry returned the gaze unflinchingly.

Dumbledore continued to gaze into Harry's eyes a few more moments before nodding slowly, apparently satisfied with his understanding and acceptance of the task ahead. 'Then you have your instructions. And now, you had best return to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts before that flask runs dry.' The moustache twitched as he nodded at the Polyjuice bottle.

For over a week, Harry waited for an opportunity to ask Neville about Trevor but was unable to find a way to approach the matter which would see his former dorm mate handing over the toad willingly and without question. During one of their late night study sessions in Harry's room, Ron suggested that they might need to resort to stealing Neville's pet after all, but Hermione threatened to go to McGonagall if they tried it, stressing that Harry must be capable of acquiring Trevor by asking Neville or Dumbledore wouldn't have suggested it. Ron and Hermione were still arguing over Dumbledore's judgement as they finally headed off to their own rooms.

Harry was almost downstairs next morning when he heard someone swear. He stopped short. He'd heard Ron come out with language like that almost regularly for several years now but, since the voice had been a girl's, it wasn't Ron. Descending the few remaining steps, he was surprised to find Ginny sitting alone in front of the common-room fireplace, Errol collapsed in a heap on the table beside her.

Swearing again, Ginny tossed a letter into the fire then glanced up at Harry, a defiant look on her face, as if daring him to take off points.

'What's wrong with you?' yawned Ron as he followed Harry into the common room.

'Congratulations,' Ginny almost spat at her brother. 'You're going to be an uncle!'

Ron rubbed sleep out of his eyes. 'I'm going to be a … a what?' he almost squeaked as he registered what she had said.

Harry looked from Ron to Ginny. 'Fleur's going to have a baby?'

'Yeah!' Ginny slumped back into her chair. 'Mum's going to be disgusting!'

'What's wrong with you lot?' Hermione entered the common room half-hidden by a stack of books.

'Fleur's pregnant,' Harry explained.

'What?' The books fell to the floor with a crash. 'Oh my God, oh my God –' Hermione was almost dancing on the spot. She grabbed a very startled Neville as he came through the doorway and spun twice around the room with him before he managed to break free and collapse dizzily into an armchair.

It was another few minutes before Hermione came back down to earth enough to gather up her books and almost float out through the portrait hole, Ron and Ginny disgruntledly trudging after her as their hunger won the battle with their horror at Mrs Weasley's news. Harry turned to follow them.

'Harry?'

He had forgotten Neville. He turned back.

'I was wondering if I could ask a favour?'

'Shoot.'

'I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons,' Neville said in a rush, gazing almost pleadingly at Harry.

Harry stared at Neville, slightly stunned.

'Of course, if you don't want to,' mumbled Neville more slowly, disappointment dripping from every syllable, 'I'll understand.'

'It's not that,' Harry assured him. 'I was just trying to think when I could fit you in.'

Neville looked up hopefully.

'We'll have to be very careful how we do this,' continued Harry, an idea forming in his head. 'I'm not sure that McGonagall would approve ... I know Fulstrum won't … but it really has nothing to do with them, does it?' He grinned, please to see that Neville was almost sitting on the edge of his seat.

'There is just one thing, though …' Harry felt a twinge of conscience for treating Neville like this, but it needed to be done.

'Anything,' said Neville eagerly.

'Could I borrow Trevor, please?'

Neville blinked. 'Trevor?'

'Just for a few weeks.'

'What do you want him for?'

Harry shrugged non-committally. 'Just stuff. I'm sorry, Neville, I can't explain at all, but it is important.'

Neville looked undecided for a few minutes before reaching inside his robes. 'You'll take good care of him, won't you?' He gripped the toad tightly as it tried to make yet another bid for freedom.

Harry reached for Trevor but Neville still took several more moments to release him.

'I promise, Neville; Trevor will be fine,' Harry assured him, feeling terrible for lying to the one person whose faith in him had never wavered. He had no idea whether Trevor would be fine or if the Basilisk would promptly kill him when it hatched. Only time would tell.

Casting around for a different topic, he said, 'Will Wednesday night, seven-thirty, in the Room of Requirement do?'

As soon as it was safe to do so, Harry collected his Cloak and snuck down to Dumbledore's tomb via the kitchens, one of the last snowstorms of the season covering his tracks.

'Oh good, you brought an egg as well.' Dumbledore beamed as he accepted a squirming Trevor from Harry.

Harry frowned. 'I'm not sure I managed to pull that one off as smoothly as Trevor; I think Winky might have spotted my hand.'

'Hmm,' Dumbledore frowned slightly. 'Despite the early hour did Winky appear –'

'Was she drunk? When isn't she?' Harry screwed his nose up in disgust.

'There is no need to be disparaging, Harry,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'Never criticise anyone, whether man or beast, until you have walked a mile their shoes. For someone like Winky, the shame of dismissal was far more than she could bear and drowning herself in alcohol is the only way she has been able to numb the grief.'

Harry felt his face grow warm. Dumbledore had a painful way of poking the deepest wound, removing the crusted surface to expose the sensitive raw flash beneath.

'Now, if you would be so kind, Harry,' Dumbledore continued, his point made, 'would you please go to my room and fetch the nest which Professor Snape has prepared for our illustrious guest.' He rubbed his thumb along Trevor's back.

The nest wasn't at all what Harry had been expecting. While chickens preferred nests of straw, this nest was made of very sludgy mud and one large, solitary lily pad resting in one of the deep pots from the kitchen. Harry glanced from Trevor to the side of the pot as Dumbledore gently placed first the egg, then Neville's pet onto the centre of the lily pad, gauging whether it was high enough to prevent the toad escaping. To his surprise, Trevor settled down very happily, seemingly quite content with his new purpose in life. Harry just hoped that life would last beyond the task.

Satisfied that the toad was comfortable, Dumbledore reached inside his robes and removed a gold medallion on a chain. He passed it to Harry.

'I have taken a leaf out of Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy's books and decided this is the safest, most efficient way of letting you know when it is time to collect the Basilisk,' he explained as Harry examined the disk.

'Why don't you want to use Sirius?' asked Harry as he hung it around his neck.

'Because you are not in your office twenty-four hours of the day. Even Sybill Trelawney would not attempt to predict the time or day when that egg will hatch.' (Harry rolled his eyes) 'I may need to notify you while you are in the middle of a class, in bed or even in the bath.' The moustache twitched.

'And you want me to come here immediately?'

'Yes. It will be most imperative if we are to prevent the new-born Basilisk from turning Mr Longbottom's toad into its first meal.'

The next three weeks passed far too slowly for Harry. While winter continued to fight against the oncoming spring, Harry threw himself into his work, both teaching and studying, hoping it would help the time fly, but without luck. All he achieved was getting all of his correction and homework done as well as enjoying dreamless nights due to exhaustion; the medallion hanging against his chest got no warmer than his own body temperature.

On the last Friday in February, Harry was in the common room going over tactics with Ron for the match against Ravenclaw next day.

'You're going to need to keep the beaters as close to aah!'

Harry's hand shot up reflexively to rub his suddenly-burning chest. Ron exchanged a nervous glance with Hermione and Ginny studying in front of the fireplace. Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who noticed.

'Are you OK, Harry?' Dean looked up from his Charms essay.

'That was my fault,' Ginny quickly volunteered. 'I was practicing a depilatory charm and missed.'

'You were practicing … what?' Seamus stopped in the middle of making his shoelaces tie themselves. Harry jumped up.

'Where are you going?' asked Dean.

'My office.' Harry worked hard not to sound distracted. 'Away from Ginny. I like my chest hairs just the way they are, thank you.'

He hurried out the portrait hole leaving Dean and Seamus blinking blankly at each other.

He made it to the top of the marble staircase before …

'Where are you going, Potter?'

Forcing the guilty look from his face, Harry turned to see McGonagall standing behind him. 'I was just going to visit Hagrid. I haven't really seen him in a while.'

'Don't you think it's a bit late for social calls?'

'It's the first chance I've had in ages, what with teaching, correcting, studying, after hours classes. I've finally got some free time now and I thought I'd take advantage of it before I get too busy again; I'm going to start drawing up the OWL practice exam after the match tomorrow –'

'All right, all right,' McGonagall held up a hand to stem Harry's rapid flow of words. 'You don't need to tell me how difficult it is for teachers to find time to relax. Very well,' she waved her wand towards the front door, unlocking it, 'I shall inform Mr Filch that you have leave to be out of bed. Just don't let Hagrid keep you out too late.'

x

'What took you so long, Potter? The headmaster contacted you five minutes ago.'

'I ran into Professor McGonagall,' Harry told Snape testily, his attention drawn to the muddy egg visible beneath Trevor's belly. Even though the drawing room was dimly lit, something yellow could be seen through a small crack.

'Don't look at it,' snapped Snape. 'That's its eye.'

'It's –?'

'Eye, yes.' Dumbledore was staying well out of the way, allowing Snape room to snatch Trevor to safety.

'But … how big …?'

'You've encountered a Basilisk before, Potter, you know how large the King of Serpents is. Or were the rumours of your … conquest … untrue?' drawled Snape.

Harry glowered at him but refused to bite. He turned his attention back to the hatching egg.

'Close your eyes,' he told the snake. 'The light is too bright; its hurting your eyes.'

Harry broke off and glanced around the room. The light wasn't too bright; quite the opposite. He took his wand out and flicked it, instantly bathing the room in light so bright, it was almost blinding. The eye immediately squeezed shut.

'What do you think you're –'

'It's all right, Severus,' Dumbledore assured Snape. 'Harry knows what he's doing.'

'That's it,' crooned Harry to the terrified snake. 'Just a little bit further.'

The crack spread, revealing a large slit. Harry frowned. The egg was still the same size it had been when he had commandeered it from the Hogwarts kitchens three weeks before but, judging by the size of the Basilisk's eye and nostril it was almost full size. How was that possible? There was no way it could fit.

But fit it did. The front end of the egg broke away and a scaly nose poked out. Trevor gave a startled croak but before he could do more than flex his leg muscles, he soared across the room under the influence of Snape's Summoning Charm.

'Is he OK?' Harry glanced up.

'Regrettably,' said Snape dryly, dark eyes flashing.

When Harry looked back down at the egg, he got a shock. The full front half of the egg was gone, probably hidden beneath the length of thick snake slithering over the edge of the nest, smearing mud over the rug. The eyes were still tightly shut against the light and nostrils twitched with curiosity at the strange unknown smells of its new environment. Its body stretched back four feet to where the rear half of the egg was jammed tightly over the wide girth which continued to flow forth from that impossibly small piece of shell. When it had reached twelve feet, the body thinned to a narrow tail which sent the remaining portion of egg smashing into the wall with a flick.

'That's it, keep your eyes shut, no peek – Eurgh!'

A bloodied rat landed in Harry's lap. He glared at Snape.

'Tell the Basilisk to eat it, Potter; it has been tainted with a Sleeping Draught. Then you shan't have to keep on with that insane hissing.'

Harry was so very tempted to tell the Basilisk to look Snape squarely in the eyes but, unfortunately, Dumbledore was watching. Fuming, he dangled the rat in front of the snake's nose.

'Hungry, little one? No, keep your eyes shut, it's a surprise; you don't need to see to eat. Just smell. You'll hurt your eyes, remember.' Harry kept up the 'insane' hissing as Snape looked more and more uncomfortable until the Basilisk curled into a tight coil, nostrils flaring softly and eyes relaxing from their tight squeeze.

Snape angrily thrust Trevor into Harry's arms but, for the most part, ignored Harry as he picked up the sleeping snake and forced its mouth open, touching his wand to each of its fangs. He then pointed his wand at a large bottle and thick white liquid streamed from the tip into it.

Turning to Dumbledore, he said, 'I should be going, Headmaster. Unfortunately, I shan't be able to return until Tuesday, but I have left sufficient potion for you.' He didn't wait for Dumbledore's wishes but gave a sharp nod before pushing past Harry, his eyes avoiding Harry's the whole time.

When Harry arrived back at Dumbledore's tomb, he found Ron waiting for him with his Cloak and Firebolt. Even though Ron was reluctant, Harry convinced him to fly both Trevor and the sleeping snake up to his room, assuring him that it would be completely safe until Harry could join him in a few minutes. Filch was waiting by the front doors but, thanks to McGonagall, couldn't do anything more than gripe about the inconvenience. Retrieving his broom and the still-slumbering Basilisk from a shaking Ron, Harry snuck down to Myrtle's bathroom under the Cloak.

'You're not breaking more school rules, are you?' Myrtle peeked out from her cubicle, smothering a fake yawn. 'What's that?' She eyed the lumpy sack Harry dropped at his feet.

'Nothing,' Harry squinted at the copper tap. 'Open up.' He turned back as the sink lowered and found Myrtle's head buried in the sack. 'Hey, get out of –'

'It's a snake. A really big snake. Why have you–?'

'It's not a snake, it's a Basilisk.' Harry snatched the sack up and slung it over his shoulder.

'What's a Basilisk?'

Harry stared at her. 'You're kidding, right?' Myrtle stared back, confused. 'A Basilisk is the thing which killed you … the "great big yellow eyes"?'

Myrtle's eyes widened. 'You've got … you can't … I'll tell –'

'You can't tell, Myrtle,' said Harry urgently. 'It's a secret. You'll ruin everything.'

'I've already kept a secret for you and this is the thanks I get? Letting that thing loose in the school?'

'I'm not letting it loose in the school; I'm hiding it down there.' He pointed at the gaping hole in the middle of the floor. 'And it won't be coming back out, believe me.'

'But –'

'Look' said Harry angrily, 'if you try to tell, I'll wake the Basilisk up and get it to stare at you.'

'Won't work,' said Myrtle. 'I can't die again.'

'No, but you can still be affected. Remember what happened to Nearly Headless Nick five years ago?'

That frightened her. 'You … you wouldn't … Murder!' she screamed at the top of her lungs as she dived into her toilet with a splash, no doubt going to fetch Filch or McGonagall.

Harry swore. Grabbing the drugged serpent out of the sack, he held it over the top of the tunnel and let go, mentally crossing his fingers that it wouldn't be killed on the way down. He just managed to pull his Invisibility Cloak over his head as he heard footsteps hurrying along the corridor before Filch burst in.

'What –? It was right here.' Myrtle floated through Filch. 'He –'

Harry didn't hear the rest. He snuck out the open door as Filch gasped and sputtered loudly, thankful that the sink had risen into place in time. Once he was safely at the end of the corridor, he picked up his pace, galloping up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. He then flew around to Ron's bedroom window where the Head Boy let him in, and had just jumped into his own bed when there was a knock on the door. Harry finished buttoning up his pyjamas as he crossed the room.

'Professor?' Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily. 'What are you doing here? Do you know what time–?' He smothered a yawn.

'May I come in, Potter?'

Harry forced his brow into a confused crease as he stepped back to allow Professor McGonagall entry. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the slept-in bed and Firebolt stored neatly in the corner.

'Mr Filch has just woken me with some ridiculous story. He claims that you were very recently in the disused girls' bathroom on the second floor with, of all things, a Basilisk.'

'Disused girls …?' Harry feigned confusion. 'Oh, do you mean Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?'

'So you admit you were there?' McGonagall stared at him hard, a very disapproving look on her face.

'No,' Harry willed his face not to redden. 'Mr Filch let me back in about –' he checked his watch '–' half an hour ago and I came straight here. I was going to get some reading done but I must have dozed off.' Harry pointed at his Transfigurations textbook lying open on the floor beside his bed. 'I'm surprised Filch isn't dead to the world too; he was yawning his head off when I came in.'

McGonagall continued to stare at Harry as if trying to determine the truth of what he just said. His stomach plummeted as her lips thinned.

'Very well, Potter; I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I shall speak with Mr Filch and recommend he gets a Dreamless Sleep potion from Professor Slughorn. And might I suggest that, in future, when I tell you not to let Hagrid keep you up too late, you do as you are told.'

'Yes, Professor.' Harry couldn't believe he was getting off so lightly, although he kept his expression sober until McGonagall had closed the door behind her. With a quiet sigh of relief, he slumped against his bed and pulled his Invisibility Cloak from under his pillow.