Moratorium Chapter 2: Chamber of Secrets, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I own only my ideas.

Warning: Less than morally acceptable thoughts and implied things. Death. Etc, etc.

Beta: silverseed

Harry shifted uncomfortably on her lumpy bed in her "new" room, reading over the latest of Marwyn's stock reports. She no longer lived in the cupboard below the stairs, but her new room was not much of an upgrade. It was stripped bare of any personality, or color. Only a lumpy bed, a worn desk and chair, and a lamp filled her room. After Harry ceased being able to send or receive mail through Ebony, she sent her dear owl to stay with Marwyn. Harry couldn't imagine leaving her owl cooped up in that dreadful room, with those awful humans living below. She knew what they thought of her owl, and she did not want to think about the kind of horrors they might try to inflict on Ebony in order to punish Harry. If such a thing did occur, Harry did not know how she would react. Which was unacceptable for Moratorium.

Downstairs she heard her pathetic cousin loudly greet some guests. Upon hearing his whiny voice, Harry had to struggle to hold back her grimace of annoyance.

Her summer had been, unsurprisingly, busy. With Moratorium making waves in the seedier part of the community, it was up to Harry to keep his momentum going.

The brothels Moratorium had established last year were proving to be incredibly fortuitous. The stodgy and culturally stunted magical community was rather perverse behind closed doors. No one would dare admit to sexual fantasies, acts, or thoughts in any way, shape or form publically. As such, many, many of its citizens were left rather frustrated, or painfully naïve about certain aspects of a physical relationship.

With the introduction of a brothel, and its perfect ability to keep guests secret, many of those frustrated citizens were throwing their galleons at it; lapping the ideas, attention, and actions up like starving dogs. In no time at all they became addicted to it, which kept them crawling back for more and more, until they couldn't spare any more galleons and had to bargain with other things.

Things such as information, blackmail, property, deeds, favors…

Money was always nice, but money was a means to the aforementioned. If Moratorium could obtain those without the need for a middleman, all the better.

The gambling dens that went up over summer mirrored the brothels, substituting the physical addiction for the gambling addiction. Marwyn had written up a handful of proposals for adding a variety of different things to gamble on.

Moratorium approved the majority of them, but declined any animal fighting.

With the success of such an improper business, the Ministry had already began sniffing about. Thankfully for Moratorium, all it took was a few exchanged bribes or carefully veiled hints about known blackmail and the morons backed off.

For the moment, at least.

But, as long as there were no obvious uses of dark magic, Bones would not spare her precious aurors over some debauchery.

Harry's fingers traced along Marwyn's delicate handwriting. The reports he provided her were immaculate, and she had to appreciate how fortunate she was to find such a useful tool. Whatever Marwyn had done prior to meeting Moratorium would have undeniably been a waste on the resourceful man.

The sound of a pop had Harry stiffening and looking up abruptly from her musings. A strange creature—a House Elf-was on her bed, looking up at her.

She stared at him.

He stared at her.

"Who are you?"

His eyes widened and he bowed his head immediately. "Dobby is sorry, Missus Harry Potter, ma'am! Dobby does not mean to startle Missus Harry Potter, ma'am."

"You didn't startle me," she assured him, stowing away the paperwork. "… Dobby, was it? Can I offer you a…?"

"Missus Harry Potter ma'am is offering Dobby something!" Dobby squealed, huge, fat tears leaking from his eyes. "Oh, Dobby is so honored—"

"Shush," Harry said sharply. "I have guests. It would be rude if you made a ruckus and displease me greatly. Please refrain from making too much noise."

"Oh," Dobby squeaked quietly. "Dobby is sorry—Dobby will punish—"

"No," Harry snapped, her patience wearing thin. "Please. Tell me why you are here."

"Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts," Dobby said severely. "Harry Potter is in mortal danger there."

Harry stared at him, her mind whirling. Moratorium problem or was it really a Harry Potter problem? Must be Potter—she was sure no one knew her identity so soon, and Moratorium hadn't made enough powerful enemies over a mere summer to question Potter's safety, yet. The only enemy Harry Potter had that would cause physical lethal body harm would be Voldewhore, so the problem was more than likely related to him.

But he was banished from the castle in a vaporous form, and as such could not return to the castle in a similar manner (possession, or vaporous). Therefore, he would be returning to the castle as something, or someone, quite different.

The fact that Dobby warned her of it, implied he knew exactly who and what form the Dark Slut would be taking. The only way Dobby would know was if Voldewhore was his master—or one of Voldewhore's close allies was Dobby's master.

Again, more than likely Dobby was a fanatic's servant. Improbable that Voldewhore would have an unfaithful servant by that point in time—he would have more than likely killed the elf long ago had that been the case.

So, a fanatic who would be able to somehow pull strings and insert a dangerous artifact or person into the school without a.) drawing attention b.) be considered suspicious and c.) in case of emergency situation could 1.) pull back easily and 2.) have enough sway to keep from falling from extreme grace.

That limited the options significantly. Now, Dobby could be contacting her for a number or reasons. He could simply be a fan of Harry Potter or he could be in the service of one of her… friends. And her friend(s) could have sent him there as a way to indirectly warn her.

The latter option was possible, but less likely. She doubted the fanatic would have allowed his child to catch wind of such a plot; but, it wasn't impossible…

Following that train of thought, though, which of her friends would possess a House Elf?

Draco.

Harry highly doubted Draco's father, or mother, would let him in on the plan. Draco simply wouldn't be able to hold in such a secret. Not to mention he didn't have the heart to kill. Not directly, at least. Despite all the blustering, and blatant racism he spouted, he wasn't malicious. He was simply a child repeating what he was told.

To play it safe she asked, "Do you belong to the Malfoy Family?"

The reaction was almost comedic. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dangled open. "Missus Harry Potter, ma'am, how did you—?"

"Simply a guess," Harry told him, her mind already working through the information. So the fanatic was Draco's father or mother (his grandfather was dead, and he had no other living family under the Malfoy name).

Lucius Malfoy or Narcissa Malfoy.

Lucius the politician, rumored Death Eater (pulled out quickly), financially and politically influential.

Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius…. Not much else noted about her.

Of the two, Harry made the safe assumption the plan belonged to Lucius.

"Okay," Harry murmured, her thoughts still working furiously as she tried to work through many scenarios. "I thank you for this information, but I will still be attending."

Dobby was horrified. "You mustn't…!"

"Dobby, you know the threat of Voldewhore, yes?" Harry asked.

Dobby nodded his head furiously, seemingly not noticing the incorrect name.

"And Lucius is setting up a trap for me at the school, yes?" Harry continued. At his nod, she continued. "So shouldn't I spring the trap and learn more from it? Shouldn't I continue my education to better protect myself against the Dark Slut, while also gleaming information from one of his former fanatics?"

Dobby's eyes widened further and his mouth continued to hang open. It made for quite the comedic effect.

"Not to mention the trap will spring even if I'm not there," Harry guessed. "So shouldn't I go there to better protect the students…? Isn't that my duty and obligation, seeing how this trap was only created because of me?"

Dobby seemed stuck between horror and admiration.

"Think about it," Harry suggested, "but regardless of your choice, I will attend Hogwarts."

Dobby gave a small nod.

"By the way… have you been stealing my mail?"

Dobby only nodded guiltily.

"Please return it to me then, before you take your leave. I must consider my next course of action."

Dobby gave another nod and when he left, Harry rolled her eyes.

He's lucky that Moratorium doesn't need to use owls anymore.

Harry paused, though, considering what Dobby had just confirmed for her.

A new year, though? Already things are proving to be most… delicious… in my part as Moratorium. And yet now I face another school year with promises of more risks and thrills and a mystery to boot.

Harry felt her lips curl into a smile.

Oh… wonderrrful.

(◡‿◡✿)

The bars and brothels were international, thanks to Moratorium's current right hand man, Marwyn. The blond Italian assassin had proved most advantageous as an assistant, and as such Moratorium had grown rather fond of his tool. He would almost regret having to cut the loose end, but really, the man could only be so useful.

Moratorium's next business would be establishing his own force; the mercenary and assassins guild to be more precise. Marwyn had called forth his own teachers—the ones that trained him—and with Moratorium's guidance, each one began picking out members in each guild.

The mercenary guild would be a more… public guild. They would be set up all over the world, one for every bar, casino and brothel together in a city. They would be the first layer of 'guards' Moratorium employed; the grunts. Moratorium wouldn't rely too much on them, with the exception of maintaining order at his established businesses and hiring a handful of them out.

The assassins guild would be far more exclusive. Harry quite liked assassins. Perhaps she had spent too much time daydreaming or reading about them. She was clearly biased, but she couldn't resist having a guild for them. They would be closer to Moratorium, his… more higher-ranked employees. They would be stationed in one area, the area Moratorium intended to make as one of his own personal bases. It was a small island resting between Japan and China, cloaked with enough charms and magic to remain hidden from both the Muggle and wizarding world. Moratorium had spent quite bit of his money paying for the security on that island, but it was well worth it.

The guild itself would be housed in the center of the island, high atop its tallest mountain. It would serve as training grounds for the recruits as well. The guild would be comprised of both young and old. More senior assassins had been hired, tasked with training the new recruits, and there would be fresh ones as well. The youngest were nearly children, in fact.

How that came to be was a rather sad story. Moratorium didn't care too much for slavery—it was barbaric, plain and simple—but he knew all too well that it was still carried out in the world. He also knew that it would be damn near impossible to put a full halt to. Not that that would stop Moratorium from trying. There was something about the thought of limited freedom—or no freedom—that rubbed Moratorium and Harry the wrong way. Perhaps it was the fact that their own childhood consisted of caged freedom, an illusion of it, put upon like a show for the neighbors to prove that they were a perfectly normal family. When in fact, they were anything but.

He bought quite a bit of them and offered them two choices. One, they would join the assassins guild and work for him, or two they would be shipped off to the nearest orphanage and live on their life in blissful ignorance. The majority chose the orphanage, of course.

In fact, only five chose the guild. And so the guild they left for and their training began. The youngest, if Moratorium could recall, was actually thirteen. Barely a year older than Harry Potter. Of those five, none of them were Muggles. Whether Moratorium simply lucked out or Fate played a hand, he didn't know and he didn't care enough to find out.

The guilds were scheduled to be up and running by the time Harry Potter finished her second year, and when that occurred Moratorium had every intention of cutting off his loose ends.

It would be a while longer before Moratorium would feel more comfortable with establishing an inner circle. He still had more things to set up, of course.

More plans to bring into light.

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry moved about Diagon alley, her eyes roaming through the massive crowd. She had come on her own. Shortly after finishing a meeting with Marwyn about the final touches in her latest scheme as Moratorium, she had decided to do some shopping. The streets seemed busier than usual and she had some difficulty maneuvering through the crowd. Thankfully the crowd didn't seem to really pay much attention to her—focused solely on whoever or whatever was in the bookstore.

"Harry?"

Harry stopped in her tracks, glancing back to find Ron and a sea of red behind him heading towards her. Harry raised a delicate eyebrow as she stared at the mass before giving a short bow when the woman—clearly the mother—reached her.

"Madam," Harry demurred smoothly before straightening up.

"Oh, look at you. Ronnie's told us so much about you," the woman—Molly, if Harry could remember correctly—said, smiling.

"Hey there, Harry," Fred interjected, ruffling up Harry's hair, much to her annoyance.

"How've you been?" George asked, mimicking Fred's action. Harry shot them both a mild glare of annoyance.

"Why haven't you mailed us anything?" Ron blurted out.

"My mail was on the fritz. It seems I didn't receive any mail over the summer," Harry responded calmly. "Hello to you, too, Ron, Fred, George. And you must be Molly, a pleasure to make your acquaintance… which makes you, Ginny."

Harry gave a smile to the awe-struck girl.

Another fan girl, Harry concluded as Ginny blushed brightly. Harry had a fairly large fan club back at Hogwarts, consisting of both boys and girls. They were relatively harmless and meant well, so Harry didn't mind them so much.

"H-Hello Harry," Ginny breathed.

"And what might you guys be doing? Shopping?" Harry guessed.

"That's right. We're just about to pick up our books," Rob answered. "Wanna tag along?"

"I suppose I might as well."

(◡‿◡✿)

Lucius is about as subtle as a train on fire, Harry thought as she sat down on the train compartment. Not even a week after the whole Gilderoy-incident, Harry still couldn't believe it. Did he actually think no one would see him place that book in Ginny's cauldron?

Harry was sorely tempted to grab the book right then and there, but dismissed it soon after. If she did that, odds were she wouldn't be able to find out just what Dobby was so concerned about. She wanted to see what Lucius could do. She wanted to test him.

After all, every bad girl(boy) had a rival. And it was quite clear that Volde-whatever wouldn't be up for it while he was so vaporous and useless, so perhaps Lucius could prove interesting.

If not, well, there was always next year.

Erk. Not to mention the whole Lockhart thing. Harry had to admit he was a rather handsome man—too golden and cheesy for her tastes—but he was such… such a tool, begging to be taken advantage of, it physically pained her to be near him. She knew all about him. Moratorium had dug up quite a bit of dirt on the man, and she had to respect him in some aspects. To acquire all that fame and glory… on one spell? The man was damned good at publicity. And it was with that in mind that Harry decided to give the man a sporting chance. After all, it would only bring her public image up if she were to befriend him. Perhaps she could garner a few tips on publicity from the man.

The door to her cart opened and Hermione stepped in, rolling her eyes. "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots."

"Dear, I take offense to that," Harry chided.

Hermione gave Harry an unamused smile, taking a seat across from her. "I meant the boys. All I suggested was a brief glance over the textbooks and all of a sudden they start whining—why are boys so immature?"

"Hormones?" Harry guessed.

Hermione snorted. "Anyway, have you seen your schedule, yet?"

Harry dug out into her pocket, pulling out the neatly folded paper and handing it to Hermione. She glanced over it, smiling and nodding. "Wonderful! We'll be taking the same classes together. I can't wait for Pre-Ancient Runes. It's supposed to be a rather instigating class."

"I'm sure it will be," Harry said patiently. The class was something both Harry and Moratorium were interested in. Runes were ancient and very powerful things that few wizards and witches could work well with and recognize. Who knew how beneficial they could prove to be?

Harry paused, carefully mulling over her next words. "Hermione? I'm wanting to form a club, would you be interested in joining?"

"That depends on what it's about," Hermione replied.

"I had… talked briefly with Hagrid over the summer about it," Harry replied, smiling in amusement at her giant friend. "I was thinking of an informational club for magical creatures. You know, something where we could really learn about them and not just in class. The class, after all, only covers the very basics and I'm fairly interested in all the creatures they wouldn't cover. I think it would prove to be most educational, don't you?"

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh! That sounds wonderful. I always wanted to learn more about a few creatures, but the only books on them are in the restricted section… Are you certain Hagrid won't mind indulging us?"

"Not at all," Harry murmured. "In fact, he seemed positively thrilled."

Hermione beamed. "Wonderful! I would love to join. Where do I sign up?"

"No need. Due to the nature of the club I thought it would be best if we kept it relatively small. Only those that are truly interested in it should join," Harry said plainly.

"You don't want your fanclub to join?" Hermione teased.

"No," Harry admitted bluntly.

After all, it's become quite clear how heavily the magical world relies on its creatures. The test to the stone was composed of two creatures out of six stages. That's one-third of the entire guard! By knowing more about these creatures, handling them in the future will be vastly easier; not to mention I could, someday, use some of the more dangerous ones in my care in the future. The more I know about them, the better.

"Do you think we should invite Ron and Draco?" Hermione asked.

"No and no," Harry said firmly. "Ron is terrified of spiders and Hagrid mentioned some spider-like creatures. Draco holds little care and respect for mythical creatures in general, so hippogriffs and gryphons would be lethal to him."

Hermione nodded, accepting this. "Fair enough. Who else will be joining, then?"

Harry shrugged. "I did talk to Neville, and he mentioned he would consider it. He's scared of a fair few creatures, but he admitted he wanted to get over his fears and he believes this might be the best chance. He mentioned something about his biggest fear was the unknown variables about the creatures."

"He'll probably join," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps."

"So… did you not receive any letters I sent…?"

"Funny story, actually…"

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry stared at the shrieking plant in her hands. She continued to stare at it for a few more moments before glancing at Ron, who had partnered up with her, and shrugged. Ron snickered—though Harry couldn't hear it due to her earmuffs—and handed her the pot. She squashed the baby in the bucket while Ron poured soil and dirt all over it. Patting it down, she glanced about to see everyone else finishing up theirs as well.

Mandrakes were interesting. Disgusting things, really, but interesting. Moratorium was quite interested to see exactly how much damage one could do if attached to a megaphone and thrown into Gringotts.

… That would be fascinating, actually.

The next class (Transfiguration) went smoothly as well, then there was lunch and after that DADA, but as Harry and co. were leaving the hall, Colin intercepted them.

Blushing brightly he asked, "Uh—Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and ignoring Draco's whine of disgust while Hermione and Ron snickered.

"May—I mean, if it wouldn't be too much trouble—haveapictureofyouandyouautographit?"

Harry blinked, having to take a moment to process his words. "… I don't see the harm in that. Would you care to be in the picture, as well, Monsieur… Creevey, was it?"

Colin blushed brightly. "Oh, no thank you! I'm more of a photo-taker than a, uh… well, you know."

"You're seriously going to indulge him?" Draco snorted.

"Don't be jealous, dear. You're welcome to join in on the picture as well," Harry cooed condescendingly.

Draco scowled at her.

Harry smiled brightly into the camera, adding a wink at Colin just to annoy Draco even more. When the picture came out, she signed it with his pen. "Is that all?"

"Yes!" Colin squeaked. Harry eyed the photo after another moment, mulling over her thoughts.

"You're quite good, a natural I'd say," Harry commented.

Colin ducked his head in embarrassment. "Oh, I wouldn't—"

"How about you handle all of my pictures?" Harry offered.

"What? But I couldn't!"

Ron laughed and Hermione giggled while Draco face-palmed.

After all, the only reason Harry Potter wasn't in the media, was because Dumbledore has managed to convince the public she was too young and would feel too uncomfortable with all the publicity, Moratorium reasoned. It would be in both of our best interest if Harry Potter had some control over what went out about her. Having her own photographer would give her some say in what pictures went about. After all, if she states very plainly only photos used by her photographer would be approved by her, any photo unapproved by her would be seen as slander and put the media in a bad light. It wouldn't do to slander the public's darling, would it? Now all she needed was an influential reporter and she was set.

"I'll pay you," Harry offered.

"No—I couldn't!"

"I will," Harry said firmly. "As such, you will be my official photographer. I will pay you, making it an actual job."

And it was always best to have an employee wrapped around your little finger. Who better than a fanboy?

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry stared in disbelief at the test.

… Really? Really?

Harry stood up from her seat, ignoring the curious looks she was given.

How could someone so stupid be so popular? Harry looked up at Lockhart, unabashedly staring at his face and scrutinizing him. Is he… Was he some sort of publicity prodigy in that manner? That he could wrap them around his little finger, despite being such a moronic narcissist?

Harry then moved from her desk, towards Lockhart and bent down low to whisper, "A moment of your time, privately please, monsieur."

Lockhart beamed at her. "But of course, my dear girl! Come, we can talk in my office."

He lead her away to the office and Harry ignored the quiet moans of Draco and Ron—and quite a few other boys in the classroom—with practiced ease. When they entered the office, she carefully shut the door, tilted her head and said in the sweetest voice she could manage, "You're not very good at DADA, are you, Professor?"

"Why, whatever do you mean—"

Harry smiled prettily at him, being sure to keep up her good girl charade. "Please, Professor, I'm not an idiot. But I don't quite understand how you're so popular. I've never been very good at the press, you see. I always get so tongue-tied."

A complete and utter lie, of course, but with a hint of truth. I could very well handle myself with others, and I know perfectly well how to manipulate them. I am not so big-headed as to say I am perfect at it. I have never had direct contact with the press and I know full well that the press is always a crucial thing in society. I will need to know how to fully handle them and if this idiot is good at anything… it's how to manipulate the press in his favor.

Ever since Moratorium discovered Lockhart's nasty secret, he had been musing about ways to take advantage of it. The moment he figured out how he could learn from Lockhart, how Harry could learn from him, he began researching ways to persuade the idiot. And, after considering how useless Lockhart would be in every other field, Moratorium went ahead and paid an undergraduate witch to write out a lesson plan that would suit Lockhart and Harry rather well.

Lockhart gave her a thoughtful and appraising look. "Understandable, of course. It takes practice, you see."

"And someone willing to teach," Harry pointed out. "You're not very good at DADA. I made sure to do a background check on all of my new professors, you must have heard what happened last year. Headmaster Dumbledore was kind enough to humor me—" and Moratorium had some nice leads of his own "—and I know you nearly failed DADA, three times."

Lockhart's smile became more strained. "I… see."

"So I want to propose a deal," Harry went on cheerily. "I want to learn the ropes about publicity, you see. And in exchange, I will write out a teaching plan for your DADA classes, so you don't look like a complete idiot anymore."

Lockhart's smile dropped entirely and he seemed far more calculating than Harry would have thought possible for the man. "A sly little one, aren't you?"

Harry only smiled.

Moratorium, of course, will be keeping an eye on you to make sure you behave. You may be good with memory charms, but you aren't the best, fool.

"A deal, then," Lockhart murmured, musing it over. "Well, it would be good publicity for both of us... very well."

Harry opened her cloak, reaching into one of her enchanted pockets and pulling out a piece of paper. "That's the lesson plans for today. I will begin making up more right away."

Lockhart glanced over it, frowning for a moment before he chuckled. "You actually figured out a way to incorporate my books."

"Of course," Harry demurred. "The majority of the students wouldn't be able to get any new texts for this class, so it would be pointless not to use them. Even if you did or did not actually perform the things in the books, they are legitimate spells and techniques. Odds are, at least someone used them."

"Mm… We can discuss more later, of course."

"Of course," Harry said, smiling prettily again. "Thank you so much, Professor! I look forward to learning all the ropes."

And when you're done, I'm afraid you'll have to pass off in a tragic accident and the public will cry and mourn for you and feel such pity for his devoted student… Harry Potter.

I may not work well with the press, but I do know the basics.

And as Harry turned away from the thoughtful and oblivious Lockhart, her smile took a nastier turn.

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry was seriously considering offing Oliver.

The sun has not even risen. Why in the hell should I have?

She glared daggers at Oliver, leaning heavily on Fred, who was leaning heavily on George, who was leaning heavily on… you get the picture. When the sun had finally decided to rise over the world, Oliver had finally finished his lecture and the team was just about to start practice when…

"I don't believe it!" Oliver hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this."

Oliver shot toward the group, the team right behind him.

"Flint!" Oliver bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time, we got up specially for it. You can clear off now!"

Flint gave Oliver a sneer. "Plenty of room for all of us, Oliver."

"But I booked the field!" said Oliver, positively spitting with rage at this point. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

"You've got a new Seeker?" asked Oliver, a dubious expression on his face. "Where?"

Draco stepped forward, grinning ear-to-ear.

Harry gave him a mildly annoyed look.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" asked Fred, looking at Draco with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed before the Gryffindors' eyes.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint, smirking. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, the ones the school uses, sweeps the board with them."

"You bought your way to your team?" Harry asked, turning towards Draco with a raised eyebrow. Draco frowned, about to say something when Harry continued, "Nicely done. You do your House proud, I'm sure."

Draco beamed.

"But, excuse me, Monsieur Flint? May I see that note for a moment?" Harry asked sweetly, holding out her outstretched hand. Flint eyed her another moment before he nodded, placing the note in her hand. Harry did an exaggerated effort of examining the note before she nodded her head in an accepting way. She then held up her wand and set the note on fire.

"What are you doing?" Flint screeched as Harry dropped the note—now ashes, really— to the ground.

"Well," Harry said rather condescendingly to the boy, "it appears to me that you have no note. And seeing how we reserved this with Professor Hooch—and I'm going to guess you hadn't shown her the note quite yet—as far as she's concerned we're the only team who should be using this field. If you do not scram now, we will be reporting you to Professor Hooch and you will face the standard penalty of interfering and attempt at sabotaging another team by banishment of the field for one month. Oh sure, you could go and get another note, but you'd have to wait four hours, am I right? After all, Professor Snape should be teaching his Advanced Doubles Potions class about now and interrupting that class for something he would deem as silly as Quidditch… well, I doubt he'd be too pleased with you. And by the time four hours are over with, we should be satisfied with our training."

The Slytherin group gaped at the still-smiling-sweetly girl another moment before Flint recovered and spat out, "Filthy halfbreed!"

Harry gave him an unimpressed look. "You shame your House if that's the best comeback you can come up with. Now shoo. My sleep was interrupted and it damn well better be worth it, because if it isn't because you decided to be idiots there will be hell to pay."

Oliver beamed at Harry, shooting the Slytherins smug looks. "You heard the girl. Get out!"

Draco gave Harry an annoyed look. "Why weren't you put in Slytherin?"

"Because I'm far too nice, of course."

Draco suddenly looked like he was having a very difficult time trying not to laugh.

(◡‿◡✿)

"Enemies of the Heir, beware?" Harry quoted back to Draco. He nodded his head firmly.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It doesn't sound good," Ron muttered.

"But it is rather interesting… petrified, you say?" Hermione murmured.

Draco nodded again.

Could this have anything to do with…?

More than likely.

How intriguing.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. "Harry, we're going to be late for the meeting."

Harry's own eyes widened as she remembered and she nodded quickly. "See you later, boys."

Without waiting for a goodbye, the two girls hurried away.

(◡‿◡✿)

Their meeting with Magical Creatures Appreciation (MCA… The name was Hermione's idea) was actually their third one. Hagrid couldn't really bring animals in (yet!), so they mostly spent the time talking about them, with Hagrid even going off into a few lectures (if you could really call it that). Neville had indeed ended up joining, as did Fred and George. When questioned why, the twins merely pointed out the nefarious uses knowledge of the beasts could be used for and no one questioned them again. The five (six with Hagrid) of them spent their meetings in Hagrid's hut.

"… Your… roosters are… they've been killed?" Harry concluded, rather dubiously.

"Dunno 'ow, but they 'ave," Hagrid said, nodding his head.

"When will you be getting more?" Hermione inquired.

"Dunno. Don' really need 'em right away, so I'm not in a 'urry," Hagrid replied, giving a small shrug. "More tea?"

"Yes, please," Neville said, smiling brightly.

"So what are we talking about this week?" Fred asked, he and George leaning towards Hagrid in anticipation.

"This week, I though' we'd talk abou' Dementors."

"Dementors…?" Harry trailed off, rolling over the name. "Sounds interesting."

Hagrid nodded his head, taking a seat. "They can be. Bu' they're very dangerous. I wouldn' even recommend one for a pet."

Harry suddenly became very interested in Dementors. She shifted her posture, her back straightening as she leaned forward.

And as Harry listened and questioned, the sun slowly began to dip down and soon enough it was time for them to head back to their dorms. However, as Harry left Hagrid' place that evening, she couldn't help but think—

I want one.

(◡‿◡✿)

"Chamber of Secrets... Chamber of Secrets," Harry mused aloud, mulling over the words. "I think I want one."

"Of course you do," Draco snorted.

The two of them were in the library, Hermione was off and scrounging the library for more books while Ron was off doing… Whatever it was he was doing. Harry wasn't too sure, the boy only cringed at the thought of spending the afternoon in the library and pointedly ran away when Hermione turned around the corner.

Hermione set another stack of books at the table—that was twenty three now—and sat next to Harry, sighing. "I just don't understand. Why can't I find anything on the chambers?"

"Because Hogwarts is trying too hard to cover the whole thing up," Draco scoffed.

"What do you mean?" Harry and Hermione asked incredulously. The two exchanged glances after realizing they spoke in synch, before turning to give Draco curious looks.

"Even Father won't tell me anything," Draco muttered, "Of course, it was fifty years ago—the last time the Chamber was opened—so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing—last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time."

"Statistically speaking, you're right," Harry said quietly, while Hermione looked down at her books somberly. Harry thought carefully, musing over her next course of action.

As Harry Potter, I cannot allow a death in my own school. Not only would it hold the chance of the school being shut down, but it would also present Harry Potter in a less than stellar light. After all, if Harry Potter is such a hero and good girl, shouldn't she—should I—have prevented the death? I don't really care one way or another if someone dies personally, however if I want my long-time plans to work…

"Then I suppose we better find a way to close the chamber," Harry concluded aloud.

"Oh? And how do you plan on doing that when we can't figure out what's attacking the students, or even where it is!" Hermione muttered, her frustration at not finding the answers bubbling over.

"We just need to think carefully about this," Harry consoled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Draco, you said it was opened fifty years ago, right? That someone died, correct? Well, why don't we look in older newspapers around fifty years ago? Surely the incident was reported."

"That's right," Draco said, his eyes widening. "I can't imagine it not being reported…"

Hermione looked calmer, having found a new lead to take on the Chamber. "Alright. I'll see if I can find something."

"In the meantime, Draco, Ron and I will see if we can find out exactly what's attacking the students."

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry carefully crept out of the Gryffindor dormitory, her invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around her. Harry kept her eyes narrowed as she scanned the dark hallways. It was the night after her latest Quidditch match and Harry was wide awake. She had awoken from the sound of someone leaving the girls' dormitory. Harry waited a moment or two to see if they would return, but when they hadn't, she grew… anxious.

Not anxious in the sense that she was worried, so much as she felt that something was about to happen.

And so, Harry left, intent on finding the girl.

Kiiiillll.

Harry's eyes narrowed, her ears straining to hear the strange hissing words that seemed to echo around her.

Harry rounded another corner and her scar throbbed erratically. She had to bite back a groan, her hand flying up to her forehead. She stumbled a couple times, but continued on. She stopped short of Myrtle's bathroom. She hesitated a moment before entering.

"Myrtle?" Harry called out hesitantly.

"Mm? Who's there?"

"It's Harry. Is anyone else around?"

"Not at the moment, why can't I see you?"

Harry pulled off her cloak, draping it over a nearby sink.

Her scar throbbed again and her hands flew up to her forehead. She cringed.

"Harry? Harry what's wrong?" Myrtle asked worriedly, floating over to her.

"I—I—is anyone nearby, Myrtle? Anyone at all?" Harry hissed through clenched teeth.

Myrtle shook her head. "No, no… I'll check. Stay here."

Harry nodded her head, stumbling over to a nearby sink and attempting to turn on the faucet. When no water came out, Harry muttered under her breath, looking up at her reflection in the mirror.

"Blood?" Harry whispered, confused.

Her scar had never bled before.

"There's no one around, Harry. You're bleeding!"

"So I've noticed," Harry muttered, her eyes narrowing as her confusion doubled. "Something… Something must be wrong. It had only ever hurt when that man was…"

Harry trailed off, her eyes widening.

Voldewhore?

But Dumbledore banished him. How could he have…?

Harry's hands tightened around the sink and she felt herself growing angry.

He was banished, yet he dares to return here? After almost killing my allies! He dares!? But how?

Harry let out a short breath. She needed to know if there were ways inside the school that perhaps no one knew about.

Who better to know… than the masters of mischief?

Harry cringed again when her scar throbbed and more blood trickled down.

He must be near, but Myrtle didn't see anyone…

"Myrtle," Harry breathed out slowly, "do you know if there are any secret compartments near here? A secret tunnel, perhaps?"

"No, no; nothing of the sort," Myrtle said slowly. "Although… No, no; nothing I can clearly remember."

"Let me know if you remember anything," Harry murmured, grabbing her cloak. "I… I will see you later."

"Harry?"

"Mn?"

"Perhaps you should talk to Dumbledore."

"What?"

"Your scar… it's not a natural scar. I can feel it. For some reason… the energy behind it is almost familiar to me," Myrtle said slowly, as if she herself was still trying to process what she was saying. "The fact that it's bleeding for no reason… it can't be good. That scar is one of a kind, you won't be able to find out why it's bleeding on your own. Dumbledore is your best chance."

Harry shifted her stance, wrapping the cloak around her.

"Please, Harry," Myrtle said. "That scar bleeding can't mean anything good, and while I don't care if you live or die, I do care if you live or die painfully."

"… Very well, Myrtle. I will see if Dumbledore will speak to me," Harry promised.

(◡‿◡✿)

"Fred, George," Harry greeted, sitting in between both boys on the couch in the empty dormitory.

"Hey, Harry-kins," Fred and George returned. "What can we do for you?"

"I don't suppose you two know of any ways to sneak in or out of the school undetected?" Harry asked bluntly.

The twins exchanged glances.

"Well," George drawled out, "I suppose we have some ideas…"

"But we'll only show them to you, if…"

"You tell us why you need them."

Harry gave them both annoyed glances. "… I am…"

Moratorium and Harry debated a moment on what reason to give. On one hand, if Harry answered honestly, she knew they would help her in a heartbeat, however, they might insist on telling their mother or father or some other adult. Harry really didn't want to involve any more people than necessary. She could lie and mention that she was only worried about Voldemort coming back in, but they might dismiss her worries and not answer her question because Dumbledore was still around. Or she could lie and mention that she wanted to sneak out of the castle for mischief of her own. That would not only garner their approval, but ensure their silence to anyone else.

"… I want to sneak out of the castle," Harry finished.

They exchanged glances.

"For what?"

"I am… looking for someone," Harry said.

"Looking for who?"

"No one you need to worry about," Harry sighed. "Look, will you, or will you not help me?"

"We will," Fred said. "After all, you are our friend."

Harry ignored her surprise, choosing instead to smile. "Thank you."

George stood up from the couch, hurrying off to the boy's dorms. When he returned, he held out a map. "Alright. This is…"

(◡‿◡✿)

So there was no way for Voldemort to sneak in, Harry concluded. She was laying on her bed that night, thinking over her next course of action. Undoubtedly, all those tunnels and passageways must have been known by Dumbledore, so he must have secured those, too.

Harry muttered under her breath. What an annoyance.

At least things were going well on Moratorium's side.

The next piece of business Moratorium was setting up was his own 'Magical Vegas'. Using the money he had earned through his… endeavors, Moratorium bought a very large piece of land. An island, in fact. The island was roughly the size of London and already buildings were being built and charms were being placed over it. Moratorium had every intention of making his own paradise for the wicked. After all, Moratorium had no doubt that if someone could own Vegas—truly own it and everything inside of it—they would be rolling in money. His bars, casinos and brothels were all a smashing hit. He thought he might as well expand upon it. He would be going into the hotel business next, setting up a luxurious resort on the island. He suspected that the island would be complete and ready for business—as in the majority of the buildings would be built and ready for business—by the end of Harry's second year.

He already had small and big business men wanting to rent out spaces in the island to build their own restaurants or malls or homes or whatever they wanted.

As soon as his island was ready and booming, he would begin to invite government officials. Hopefully he would be able to get them to do things regrettable that he could use as leverage against the corrupt government. Then he could start buying out the politicians or, hell, sending in his own men and women to take over the government. He anticipated sending the politicians to his island roughly during halfway in Harry's third year, perhaps a little later.

While his island was being built, Moratorium decided to buy yet another island (a smaller one, though) in which he was using the rest of his money to build the most luxurious (couple and family friendly, believe it or not) resort he could. He expected it to be ready for business by the beginning of Harry's third year.

The guilds were progressing nicely as well. Moratorium was correct in his estimation that the guilds would be up and running by the end of that year.

There was a soft knock on the door to the dorms.

Harry glanced up. "Yes?"

"Miss Potter, Dumbledore wishes to see you now."

"Coming."

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry sat across from Dumbledore, her Occlumency shields up and running as she stared at him.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired.

Harry took a deep breath.

For one reason or another, Harry quite liked Dumbledore. Even though she hadn't had all that many encounters with him, she just felt as though she could trust him. That actually made her very wary of him and was why she was reluctant to involve him in the first place. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but there was something off about him. Yet, at the same time it seemed like a good kind of off.

Harry knew Dumbledore was wise and powerful, and because of such, she really didn't want to risk lying to him and ruining her chance of an alliance with him.

"My scar was bleeding," Harry finally said.

Dumbledore blinked at her. "Excuse me, my dear?"

"I woke up one night—I thought I heard someone leaving the dormitory. I, uh, I left after them. It wasn't long afterwards that I started to—to, uh—hear things. I mean, I heard it before. Actually, it was on the night that Ms Norris was petrified, but I thought nothing of it. However, when I started hearing it again, all alone… it felt… real. Like I wasn't just imagining it."

"What did you hear?" Dumbledore inquired, leaning forward, his eyes seeming to bore into hers.

"He was hungry," Harry blurted out.

Harry flushed, upon realizing what she had said. She herself didn't even realize that was what she thought until she said it out loud.

"The voice… Whoever was talking was really hungry and really old. That's all I know about the voice. Well, that and it sounded weird. It sounded like I was listening to a bigger version of a python."

"Excuse me?"

"When I was little," Harry explained, "we went to the Zoo. They had this really big python on exhibit and out of boredom, I started talking to it. Her. Sorry. I started talking to her as if she could understand me. I was only doing it to weird out my cousin because he was annoying me, and because I was just that bored. Anyway, she started talking back to me. It freaked me and my… family… out. I thought I was just hallucinating the entire thing, so I didn't think anything of it… However, after being in Hogwarts for so long, I just assumed that wizards and witches could do that."

"Not… all," Dumbledore said slowly. "What you did, Harry, was speak Parseltongue. It is an old language and only very few people can do it."

"… So… I can talk to snakes? Just me? No one else?"

"Well, Voldemort can, as well."

Harry's brow furrowed. "How come?"

"Because he is of Slytherin descent. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth, the language is passed down genetically under normal circumstances."

Harry paled. "Is Voldewhore my father?!"

"No, no. Only under normal circumstances is it hereditary. In your case, I suspect Voldemort unintentionally gave you that power when he gave you that scar," Dumbledore explained.

"Right. Back to the scar and my story. So, I was… listening to a really hungry and old snake when my scar started to hurt. Very badly. It's only ever hurt whenever Voldewhore is around, but at the time I didn't quite piece that together. I managed to find some place to rest and when I looked up in the mirror, my scar was bleeding and it was hurting even more than before. Why? Why was my scar bleeding? Why does it hurt whenever he's around? Why do I have some of his power? Why do I feel… Why do I feel—" Why do I feel like there's a connection between the two of us? What does my scar have to do with this?

"Why did Voldemort choose me? Out of all the families to personally kill… why mine?"

"Alas Harry, I cannot answer all of your questions…"

"Cannot or will not?"

Dumbledore only smiled serenely.

"Fine. What will you answer?"

"I believe the reason your scar hurts whenever you are around Voldemort, is for the same reason that your touch burned him last year."

"… Which is…?"

"It was love that saved you last year, your mother's love to be exact. She sacrificed herself to save you from Voldemort, and it is for that reason that Voldemort can never touch you. I suspect your scar hurting is her way of warning you."

Bull shit.

"Love?" Moratorium couldn't help but interject. "Really? How many other mothers have sacrificed their lives to protect their children—and how many of those attempts actually worked? What's the difference between her and them?"

Dumbledore smiled. "In time, I suspect we will find out."

Moratorium gave an inward snort while Harry looked contemplative.

"I suppose." Harry allowed. "You banished him, right?"

"Yes."

"So why does my scar hurt? It cannot hurt from generalized danger, because I was technically in danger several times before and it never bothered me. Only whenever Voldewhore was around. You say you banished him, so then how is he back in the castle?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a grave look. "I wish I knew, Harry. I wish I knew."

Harry gave a thoughtful frown.

"… Thank you for your time."

"Always. Ah, would you care for a lemon—"

"No, thank you. I should be heading back to bed."

"Good night, then, Harry."

"Good night."

And as Harry left Dumbledore's office, she and Moratorium gave a mutual snort.

What the hell is he hiding?

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry sat beside Colin's bedside, her eyes sharp as she scanned his petrified body again.

I've had just about enough with guessing.

What do we know about this so-called monster?

The monster was something only Salazar could control.

Which is a lie, Moratorium interjected. If that was true, then it would mean Salazar himself was the one unleashing the beast, not the heir. An heir implies a lineage, a heritage.

Okay. So the monster is a monster that can be controlled only by someone of Salazar's lineage. More than likely it's a monster that symbolizes Salazar himself, as well.

Snake.

That's actually a no brainer.

But which snake is it? It would have to be a snake that can petrify.

There are roughly ten different magical snakes that can petrify. What we need to consider is what snake can petrify and kill—doing both without making a mess?

Both fell into contemplative silence.

Roosters, Moratorium thought.

Harry's eyes widened. A Basilisk?!

A Basilisk.

How are we supposed to stop a damn Basilisk without—wait.

How exactly is a Basilisk getting around the school without anyone finding out?

Harry gave a snort, standing up from Colin's bed side. "… There's only one other person I know who can figure that one out."

(◡‿◡✿)

"A Basilisk? Are you sure?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.

"That would make sense. Slytherin would have nothing less than the king of snakes as a companion," Draco said. "But how is it getting around the school?"

The trio glanced over at Hermione, who looked thoughtful. "… I'm not sure. Listen, though, I found the obituary about the student in an old newspaper. You won't believe who it was."

"Who and what?" Neville asked, stepping up to the table and sliding to sit beside Hermione.

Neville was a tentative alliance. Harry and Hermione both found themselves liking their time spent with Neville at the club—he was an interesting boy. A bit shy and goofy, but he meant well. At Hermione's request, he was brought into the quartet and, as such, was brought up to speed about what the quartet was trying to do.

"The student who was killed by the… Basilisk fifty years ago… is none other than Moaning Myrtle!"

"No!" Ron gasped. Even Draco seemed surprised.

Harry tilted her head curiously. "Really? Well then, perhaps she knows something."

"We can't just ask her. She's Moaning Myrtle. There's no way she'd cooperate with us."

"She and I are actually allies," Harry said plainly. "I'll ask her about it later."

"Good," Hermione said.

"Speaking of allies… Draco, do you have a House Elf?"

"Of course I do," Draco snorted. "Why?"

"I've met him."

Twice, actually. The second time when he was trying to enchant a bludger, but I caught him—as I was checking over the equipment. It was an interesting conversation in which he pleaded he was only trying to keep me safe and it was there that I discovered just how devoted he was to me.

"… Really? Okay? So what?"

"I want him. How much for him?"

Draco blinked. "… What? Seriously?"

"Yes. I have money. I want him. How much?"

Draco shrugged. "I'll talk to Father about him."

"Excellent."

"… What's a House Elf?"

"A magical creature that's a servant," Harry explained. "They actually are able to obtain happiness and their magic through the bond of master and servant."

"Really?" Hermione asked dubiously. "Are they paid?"

"I just said they obtain happiness through serving. They literally cannot be happy if they do not serve. Their happiness and power is their payment."

"That's slavery!" Hermione gasped.

"No, it's not," Harry immediately disagreed. "It's just a different form of payment. Are you saying you can only work for money? That you can't work for favors or other things? Don't be so narrow-minded, Hermione."

Hermione flushed.

"She's right," Ron added. "They love to work. If they don't, they get really depressed."

Neville nodded in agreement. "My Grandmother has a House Elf, and they both seem pretty happy with the arrangement. Or as happy as Grandmother can get…"

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry gave another sigh of annoyance as she stood alongside Hermione and Ron in the gathering of other students at the supposed Dueling Club.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little 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!"

Ron gave a sigh. "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?"

Hermione shot him an annoyed look. "Come now, Professor Lockhart is actually a decent teacher and you know it. Can you name one lesson that's been truly useless?"

Ron muttered under his breath. "He's still a—whaddya call it, Harry? Narcissist? He's still a narcissist."

Hermione sighed and Harry chose not to respond.

Snape's upper lip was curling and Harry idly wondered if she was supposed to cheer for Lockhart in this occasion. While it was true he was giving her pointers on the press—some of them rather useful, actually—he wasn't exactly her favorite person in the world. If she were being completely honest with herself, she would be rooting for Snape.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them—as if they were about to fence.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"What a pity," Moratorium muttered.

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent.

Snape cried out: "Expelliarmus!"

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down to a sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on her tiptoes. She squealed through her fingers, "Do you think he's alright?"

Moratorium and Harry, however, were looking keenly at Snape.

Snape caught Harry looking at him and immediately Harry felt a brush on her mental shields. Her eyes narrowed and the probing quickly went away. Snape continued to hold Harry's gaze. Harry gave a slow, acknowledging nod in Snape's direction. Snape sneered.

Even with all the books I can smuggle, we can't exactly practice the ones we want. There's no good place to practice spells without getting caught in Hogwarts, and there is no place back at that hovel those pigs refer to as a home, Moratorium inwardly sighed. What I wouldn't give for a good and proper teacher.

Snape would certainly be an interesting private tutor. Maybe we could hire him? Harry mused, wanting to laugh at the thought of hiring the one teacher on Hogwarts who detested her as a private tutor.

Lockhart got unsteadily back to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm—as you see, I've lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape. But if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy—however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape looked murderous. Lockhart probably noticed because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me…"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

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

Harry automatically moved towards Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. And you, Miss Granger, you can partner with Miss Bulstrode."

Harry snorted when Draco came over to her with a raised eyebrow.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Draco exchanged glances before bowing lowly.

"Loser has to do the other's homework for a week?" Draco offered.

"I think not. With your skills, my grades would drop drastically," Harry sniffed.

"You're such a—"

"Yes I am, and yes I don't care," Harry said, smiling.

Draco gave her an amused smirk.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents—only to disarm them, we don't want any accidents—one… two… three—"

Not bothering to say the word aloud, Harry shot an Expelliarmus straight towards Draco. Draco was sent flying backwards before landing on his butt, his eyes wide.

"Did you—did you just cast a silent spell?!"

Harry gave Draco a smug look, partly pleased no one seemed to have heard Draco's squeaking, the other part of her was pleased that it had worked. She had only been able to practice it silently at night when the others were asleep—hence why she didn't say anything aloud. It had taken her the better part of her final first year and the beginning of her second year, but she could do it.

"Jealous?"

"No," Draco lied immediately.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Draco and Harry looked up at Snape's furious shout—now that Harry thought about it, when wasn't he furious?—to see Neville and Justin lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever; but Hermione and Bulstrode were still moving; Bulstrode had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor.

Harry shot a silent Stupefy at Bulstrode and the girl fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Again with the silence?" Draco demanded. "You—You need to teach me. Now."

"Later," Harry dismissed, hurrying over to Hermione and checking on her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Hermione gasped, grabbing her wand and patting down her hair.

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Flinch-Fletchley, how about—"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over to the flustered man. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spell. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. How about Malfoy and Potter?"

"I'd rather not," Draco muttered.

Harry gave him a sweet smile. "I think that's an excellent idea!"

"Professor Snape, I don't think I'd like to—"

"Hush, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco gave Harry a look. "Be gentle?"

"No."

The two stepped up on the platform.

"Can you handle this, my protégé?" Lockhart asked.

"Of course," Harry assured him pleasantly.

"Three—two—one—go!" Lockhart exclaimed.

Draco raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, intrigued, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them and raised itself, ready to strike. There were startled shouts in the crowd and most of the students backed away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with an angry snake. "I'll get rid of it…"

"Don't underestimate me, Professor Snape," Harry returned, giving him an annoyed glance. She then strolled forward and raised an eyebrow at the snake before swooping down and grabbing the top of its head. The snake hissed not allowed and, before Harry could blink, bit her.

Serpensortia summons small, non-poisonous snakes. It's a spell that's mostly used for intimidation, Moratorium drawled, feeling bored with the spell. The spell he really wanted to learn about—ever since finding out they were a Parselmouth—was one that would summon far more interesting snakes.

Harry twitched at the sharp stinging sensation, but it was the same pain as getting a shot.

She raised an eyebrow at Draco. "I am not impressed."

Draco sighed.

She raised her wand. "Seeing how that was obviously not a disarming spell, I see no reason why I should settle for such a boring spell, either."

"… Damn."

"Avis; Duro; Oppungo," Harry said neatly. She wasn't as familiar with those spells—well, she was fairly familiar with the Oppungo spell, but not the other ones- so she had to take her time in pronouncing them and using her wand. When she said Avis, black birds shot out of her wand, when she said Duro, they hardened and when she said Oppungo, they began to bombard Draco.

Draco gave a squeak and the other students laughed as the birds began to chase him around the hall. Snape shot Harry an annoyed glance. "You were supposed to disarm."

"Tell that to Draco," Harry shot back.

(◡‿◡✿)

"Going off again, Harry?" Myrtle giggled, floating around her as Harry continued to change into Moratorium.

"Quite. Although, before I leave, Myrtle, might I ask you… How exactly did you die?"

Myrtle gave an excited squeak.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," Myrtle moaned dramatically. "It happened right here, I died in this very stall. I remember it so well; I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny—a different language. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door to tell him to go away and then—" Myrtle gave another moan. "I died."

"… Just like that? Can you elaborate? What exactly killed you?" Moratorium inquired.

"I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" Myrtle sighed dreamily.

"Basilisk stare," Moratorium muttered under his breath, giving Myrtle a calculating look.

That would mean the language she heard… the whole different language… it must have been Parseltongue. Meaning the person who opened the Chambers fifty years ago was a descendant of Slytherin… I'm sure Hermione would have already found an article about someone with the surname Slytherin, so they must not have been well-known as a Slytherin. I wonder… Is it possible they themselves didn't know they were Slytherin until they came to Hogwarts?

Don't guess at things you have no solid proof on, Harry interjected.

Yes, yes…

"Thank you for that tale, dear," Moratorium murmured, eyeing the bathroom. She said they spoke parseltongue here… that would imply that this bathroom was the point where the Basilisk and the heir would meet. The entrance, perhaps?

Moratorium shook his head. "I'll be back in a while, dear. You know the drill."

Myrtle giggled. "Of course!"

Moratorium gave her a serene smile before flooing away.

(◡‿◡✿)

"… Did you hear about Hogwarts?" Marwyn asked as he and Moratorium walked down the small alleyway towards the meeting spot.

"Perhaps. What did you hear?"

Marwyn gave a quirk of a smile. "Just that in two days, the Minister of Magic will be removing Dumbledore from the school."

Moratorium raised an eyebrow. "Why would they do that?"

"Apparently there have been attacks in the school. The students are in danger. Lucius Malfoy has swayed the mass majority of those in the government that their precious Harry Potter is in danger with Dumbledore in charge. Just look at last year."

Moratorium gave a snort of amusement. "And who would they put in charge? Dumbledore is supposedly the greatest wizard alive."

"Damned if I know," Marwyn replied, holding the door open for them.

Moratorium slipped through, entering the closed bar. There was a fairly large table that held exactly seven others. Their names weren't important, as they were all disposable as far as Moratorium was concerned. They were each the residing leaders. One to watch over all of Moratorium's bars, one to watch over all of Moratorium's brothels, one to watch over all of Moratorium's casinos, the current leader to the assassins guild, as well as someone to watch over all of the mercenary guilds, another for the sinful island Moratorium was creating, and the final one to watch over Moratorium's family and couple appropriate resort.

Moratorium slid into the final seat and Marwyn moved to stand beside him. Moratorium tilted his head. "Good evening, everyone."

"Evening," they echoed.

"Report," Moratorium ordered.

Most of the time Moratorium preferred to have his reports merely written up and given to him by Marwyn, but he understood the importance of face to face meetings. After all, Moratorium was an excellent judge of character and could always tell when someone was lying to him or withholding information.

That, and he had Marwyn slip Veritaserum in all their drinks before coming to escort Moratorium here.

The bars were going smoothly and, as ordered, each bartender kept tabs on any useful gossip or blackmail that came their way. Moratorium was thinking of hiring a small group of intelligent people to sort through the information for him, there was just so much of it that Moratorium did not have enough time to sort through it himself. He made a mental note to have Marwyn see if he could find the right people. The brothels were going just as smoothly—perhaps a bit better with the way some witches and wizards were cheating on their supposedly significant others at the brothel. Perfect blackmail, of course. The casinos were running smoothly and Moratorium already had a great deal of supposedly revered (pureblood) families in his debt, even a couple of government officials. Something he would make much use of.

The mercenaries were already being reserved for 'borrowing'. Moratorium wasn't quite sure what they would be needed for, but he didn't particularly care. So long as he got his money, it didn't make a difference to him. The island was going well under construction and—Well. Moratorium actually had to have a new official to watch over the island's construction as it would seem the potion revealed his previous official was embezzling money right from under his nose.

That just wouldn't do.

After Marwyn dispatched the little pest, the assassins' leader was next.

"I've already begun to personally train those ex-slaves," the older man said plainly. "They have talent, that's certain. The youngest of them seems to be a rising prodigy and I have high hopes for him."

"Really?" Moratorium asked interestedly. "Be sure to keep an eye on him, then. When you believe they are ready, I will personally view them myself. I have… plans for them."

The older man gave a smirk. "But of course."

"If that's all that needs to be reported, I believe we can disband this meeting," Moratorium said pointedly, standing up. "Until next time, Misères, Madams."

Marwyn and Moratorium exited the building.

"Marwyn?" Moratorium inquired.

"Yes?"

"Why did you become a tool-for-hire?"

Marwyn's lips quirked before he gave Moratorium a thoughtful look. "… It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You are very useful," Moratorium murmured, thoughtfully. "I think I quite enjoy having you as my tool. Until next time, Marwyn."

Marwyn gave a low bow. "Until next time, Lord Moratorium."

Moratorium's lips twitched and he gifted Marwyn with a small smile. "Until next time."

(◡‿◡✿)

Upon exiting the floo, Moratorium was greeted with a flooding bathroom.

"… Myrtle?" Moratorium inquired, changing back into Harry.

Myrtle sniffed. "There you are, Harry! Oh it was awful. This stupid… Someone threw a book at me."

Harry's brow furrowed and she stepped towards where Myrtle was pointing her finger.

Oh. It's that book, Harry thought quietly to herself. I was actually planning on swiping it tomorrow night to see if it somehow was connected to the Chambers. Now that I have more information on the Chambers, I feel comfortable enough with investigating the book and seeing if it's related. After all, it was directly handled by Lucius. Even if he's rather blunt and uninteresting, it would be unwise to underestimate him.

Harry bent down, picking up the book and immediately she felt goosebumps crawl all over her. Her scar tingled.

She blinked, staring down at the book.

This book… It seems… familiar. There's… something… no… someone… inside…?

"Myrtle," Harry murmured absently, "I will be taking my leave now. Have a pleasant night, dear."

Myrtle gave a reply, but Harry was too focused on the book, she didn't hear.

(◡‿◡✿)

Blank to the eyes. Harry tried every revealing spell she knew, but nothing was shown. The pages weren't even wet from being soaked in the water. After staring at it for a long while, Harry finally decided to try writing in it. Perhaps seeing what happened to the ink would give her an idea on what spell she should try next.

'Testing. Testing.'

The ink dissolved away.

Harry blinked.

'Hello?' A reply was written.

Harry tilted her head.

'Hello,' Harry wrote.

'Who's this?'

'Harry Potter. Who's this?'

'Tom Riddle.'

Harry froze, the name ringing a very familiar bell. She couldn't quite place it… yet.

'How did you come by my diary?'

'Someone tried to flush it down the toilet,' Harry answered.

'Lucky that I recorded my memories in a more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want to read this diary.'

'What do you mean?' Harry inquired.

'I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

'Terrible things… Like… the Chamber of Secrets?'

'Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.'

'Who was it last time?'

'I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.'

Harry stared at the diary.

'You're joking, right? You expect me to trust you, and allow you to take me in you… without knowing exactly what you are in the first place? Do you take me for some kind of idiot? How do I know you aren't simply lying to me in the first place? Just tell me what you know and I'll decide for myself.'

'… Are you a Slytherin?'

'No, but the hat really wanted me to be one.'

'… Why didn't you become Slytherin?'

'That would have obviously given away my ulterior motives.'

'… You would have been a perfect Slytherin.'

'The name. Who opened the Chamber fifty years ago?'

'Hagrid.'

Harry snorted. 'Bull shit.'

'I kid you not—'

'Do you honestly expect me to believe Hagrid is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, is a Parselmouth and can and has controlled the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? If he could speak parseltongue, I have no doubt he would have many snakes to this day, so he could speak and cuddle the bloody hell out of them. I call bull shit.'

'How do you know the creature in the chamber is a Basilisk?'

'I thought we already established that I wasn't an idiot.'

Tom did not reply for a while.

'That's all the information I have.'

'You're lying, but whatever. I already have a good guess as to where the Chamber is now, so I'll just investigate at a later date.'

'You won't be able to get in,' Tom replied quickly.

'Yes, I will. Myrtle informed me all I had to do was speak Parseltongue, and what do you know? I can speak Parseltongue.'

'What? You're a descendant of…?'

'Hell if I know. The magical community is so incestuous, I'm pretty sure I'm some sort of cousin with half the students in Hogwarts.'

Harry tilted her head. Now why did his name seem so very familiar?

'I don't suppose you could answer some other questions I have.'

'Perhaps. What are they?'

'What exactly are you?'

'Why do you ask?'

'You're very familiar to me. You're not a memory. You're… something more. I can feel it. You are familiar to me.'

'I'm just a memory preserved in a diary.'

Harry gave a sigh, closing the diary and looking over at the name engraved on the…

"Holy shit. It's Voldewhore!" Harry breathed, her eyes widening. That was why her scar was tingling being near the diary, and that was why the name was so familiar. It was the name Dumbledore had used to banish the annoyance last year.

Which meant…

It was Tom Riddle who opened the Chamber fifty years ago. The annoyance was a Parselmouth—Dumbledore had said so himself—which meant that Tom Riddle was a Parselmouth and apparently he went to school fifty years ago… opened the Chamber…

Harry gently set the diary down on the desk, her mind working a mile per minute. The question then begged, how was he…?

Her mind drifted back to Quirrel and she gave a groan of annoyance.

Possession!

He was somehow possessing people through the diary. Not just people, it was Ginny who held the diary.

Harry shook her head. What a bother. Oh, well. So long as I keep the diary out of Ginny's reach, there will be no more attacks. Mystery solved. I'll explore the Chamber at a later date; there's no rush—it's not like it's going anywhere, and I'm certain I'll be able to retrieve the information I require out of Tom soon enough.

Standing up and stretching, Harry gave a small smile.

Time for bed, then.

(◡‿◡✿)

For a full week, nothing happened. Harry didn't touch the diary or attempt to explore the Chambers during that week; she was perfectly content with allowing Moratorium to focus on his plans for the most part. Dumbledore did indeed have to leave the school, and Harry was with him when he left. It was a rather sad goodbye and Harry wasn't quite sure why she felt a little sad when he left, and unable to help herself she even told him that they would certainly see each other again.

Dumbledore had smiled serenely at her and bade her goodbye. Even Hagrid had to go, and for that Harry was truly sorry. It meant her information goldmine was out of her reach for a while.

It was on the way back to the library—Harry was walking with Draco and Ron—to meet up with Hermione, that things took a rather annoying turn.

"I talked to father about Dobby. He's willing to negotiate a price, he told me to give you this," Draco said, pulling out a thin envelope. Harry opened it, peering at the number scribbled inside. She tilted her head.

"Alright. I'll send him in the money."

Draco blinked. "What? Seriously? You're not going to try and lower the price, or…?"

"I've made some wise investments with my money, Draco," Harry dismissed. "Besides, this is rather cheap for such a useful elf like Dobby."

Harry paused in her footsteps, rummaging through her pack and pulling out an enchanted mirror.

"What's that connected to?" Ron asked, giving Harry an odd look.

"Gringotts. I'll have them send over the money tonight. I expect Dobby in the morning."

"I'll tell Father tonight, then," Draco replied.

After Harry gave the order, the trio continued on their way, until…

"Harry!"

The trio paused in their walking. Neville was rushing to them, out of breath. "H-Harry, it's awful. I-I just found out…"

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"It's Hermione," Neville blurted out. "She—She's been petrified!"

Harry froze, her eyes widening.

"What?" Ron demanded. "Where is she?"

"In the hospital room—"

"Let's go," Ron said, hurrying off. Draco gave a small mutter under his breath, but he and Neville followed behind Ron. Harry, however, remained motionless. After a couple of heartbeats passed, she felt cold fury wash over her.

She sprinted to her dorm, running up the stairs and throwing the door open only to find their dorm torn apart. She ignored the mess, moving straight towards where she kept the diary.

It was gone.

"Stupid little girl!" Harry bit out, unable to keep the absolute annoyance and frustration out of her tone. She whirled on her heel, intent on hunting Ginny down .

Ignorant little—Why would she dare—Is she right in the head—Because of—Hermione is my alliance. She is under my protection. Any assault on her is a direct insult to me, Moratorium growled.

Harry rounded another corner before faltering, staring at the bloody wall.

Her eyes narrowed.

Stupid Voldewhore…

"My word! What is this?"

Harry glanced back, finding Professor McGonagall staring at the writing on the wall.

"I'm going to bring her back," Harry said shortly.

"You certainly will not, Miss Potter," McGonagall said sternly. "This is far too dangerous… We will need to…"

"I will because it is my responsibility," Harry snapped. "Ginny is a precious person to one of my alliances. It is my duty and obligation to protect her as such, not to mention it was because of our indulgence that she and Hermione were placed in danger in the first place."

"You are still my student and I am still your Professor, Miss Potter," McGonagall returned, towering over Harry. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"What happened here?" Lockhart gasped as he and the other teachers began surrounding the wall. McGonagall turned away, intent on addressing the teachers and it was then that Harry snuck away.

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry stared at the bathroom, her eyes finally resting on the sink that the water wouldn't run through. Myrtle claimed it was the only one that wouldn't work. Peering down at the faucet, Harry's eyes became glued to the serpent engraved on it.

"Parseltongue, hm?" Harry murmured to herself.

"So what am I supposed to say? Reveal? Chamber of Secrets? Entrance unlock? Open?" Harry hissed softly.

At open, there was a keen whining sound and Harry took a step back as the sink opened up and revealed-

Harry muttered under her breath. "I can't see the bottom."

Giving a sigh, Harry casted a slow-falling spell on her before she jumped down into the hole. Her feet landed softly on the ground before she canceled the spell. Her eyes roamed around the pit until she lit up the tip of her wand and began walking down the only available tunnel.

Her feet made little noise as she walked, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She could already feel the pleasant rush of adrenaline as her stomach lightened. She had almost forgotten how much she adored these sorts of things.

After exiting the tunnel, she found herself staring at a very long, dimly lit chamber. There, at the end, was Ginny, laying on the ground. Harry approached the girl before kneeling down and placing two fingers over her pulse on the neck. Alive. Unconscious, but alive.

Harry straightened up, her scar tingling and she turned around, finding herself face to face with—

"What happened to you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

She knew, logically, that the boy standing in front of her was Tom Riddle—who else could it be? However, when comparing the very handsome and attractive boy to the grotesque thing that had been his future self, it was… Off.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're Volde-whatever, right? Right. I saw you just last year," Harry explained, "and you were horrible. I thought you had always looked like that, and yet… Here you are as… eye candy. That's weird."

Tom's lips thinned, his eyes flashing darkly. "Harry Potter, I presume?"

"You presume correctly, Eye-Candy," Harry replied before turning away and dismissing him. Her eyes instead rested back on Ginny, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, I was furious on my way here, but I managed to calm myself. Moratorium was correct in saying that it wouldn't do to go into battle not thinking clearly."

"Quite. However, I'm afraid you're much too late-"

"It was so very annoying, you know," Harry continued, "Having to come all the way down here only to face off with you—again, might I add—when I won't even get anything out of it for myself. The stupid little girl really should have left you alone."

"She didn't really have a choice-"

"And another thing," Harry went on, completely ignoring him.

"No," Tom said flatly, his eyes narrowing and his tone growing icy smooth. "I am done listening to your prattle."

Harry turned to face him, her face completely blank. "That's another difference."

He raised an eyebrow.

"The Voldemort I faced… was not sane. He wouldn't have allowed me to get a full sentence in without screeching death upon me, and while you did grow impatient, you actually listened. The person—or thing—standing before me is someone who is intelligent and cunning. Enough that he was somehow able to convince all those around him that sweet little Hagrid could somehow be the heir of Slytherin—and judging from how you asked how I knew the creature was a Basilisk, you must have also fooled them into thinking the creature was something different. Perhaps not even a snake. You must have quite the silver tongue, and you must be at least above-average in intelligence to pull something like that off ," Harry demurred, moving towards Tom and beginning to circle him slowly.

"Moreover, you were able to pull off an elaborate string of assaults and even a murder in only your fifth year. What potential you had, or perhaps have. You were even able to create this diary—a very special diary. Something that cannot be destroyed through normal means, yes? That doesn't mean it cannot be destroyed at all. There are some things that just cannot be resisted—a Dementor's kiss, Basilisk venom…

"What stands before me is no mere memory, either. I'm not quite sure what you are—but I intend to find out. What stands before me is something that holds the potential of him, before he fell from power and became the hollow husk he is today," Harry finished, stopping to stand before Tom and smile mockingly at him. "Much more… You—"

"Enough with your talking," Tom snapped, his eyes narrowed. "Lord Voldemort is and always will be the greatest wizard. The fact that you escaped alive not once, but twice, is only a lucky miracle."

"Perhaps the first time it was," Harry allowed. "The second? Please. A true child could handle him."

"Lies!" Tom spat venomously.

"You don't believe me?" Harry inquired, feigning hurt. "What a pity, what a pity… But it's true, you see. Lord Voldewhore is a mockery now. A has-been. A wash out. You, on the other hand…"

"Enough! It doesn't matter anymore. Soon enough, I will have a physical body again and your friend will be dead," Tom state firmly.

Harry gave him an amused look before raising her wand over to Ginny. "You know… I thought we already went over this. I'm not an idiot."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"The has-been possessed my teacher last year. Did you honestly think I wouldn't extensively cover every possible possession technique and every possible counter-active spell for possession?" Harry asked rhetorically. Tom's eyes widened.

"Now will you be a good little boy and listen to what I'm saying, or do I have to snip this possible alliance short because you're feeling stubborn?" Harry drawled.

"Alliance?"

Harry smiled. "Good boy. I have questions. Questions that Dumbledore refuses to answer and questions I believe you hold the answer to. No, questions I know you have the answer for. I would much rather you remain alive and cooperative a while longer for these questions to be answered."

"I'll answer whatever you want in exchange for walking away when I'm done," Tom purred.

"Ah-ah," Harry chuckled. "Harry Potter must remain to be seen as a good girl, and failing to protect a friend from the bad boy Riddle, wouldn't do any good for her reputation. I don't care if you do manage to acquire a physical body eventually—hell, if you prove useful enough, I might even help you—but it can't and won't be someone under my or Moratorium's protection. Besides, I need to make sure the answers you give to me are completely honest. I can't trust potions or spells in this case as I'm not entirely sure they'll work on you. So I propose a deal—"

Tom gave Harry a calculating look. "What's to stop me from calling forth the Basilisk right now and killing you?"

Harry gave him a wide smile. "I would love it if you did that. However, I thought we already established this, but perhaps you're not as intelligent as I perceived you to be: I am not an idiot. Did you honestly think I would come down here without a plan for the Basilisk?"

Tom's lips pursed. "No. It was for that very reason I haven't already called him forth. Very well, what do you propose?"

"Time and proof," Harry said. "I'm not in a rush for the information. At least, not in a terrible one. I can be patient. Besides, I would much rather have you as an ally, than discard you completely from the game. All I ask is that you remain patient with me and I will prove to you why you should be my ally."

"And if you don't?"

"Then I will discard you," Harry replied plainly. "You seem so very intent on believing your future self is so great and powerful. However, out of the two of you, I would say you were the most dangerous one. I will show you how far you have fallen—what you became without my assistance."

"What's to stop me from betraying you?" Tom asked curiously.

"It would amuse me if you did," Harry answered honestly. "After all, the whole reason I allowed Lucius to give Ginny the diary was for my own curiosity. The only reason I'm in Gryffindor is because of my rather reckless ambition and addiction to adventure. Some might even refer to me as an adrenaline addict. Perhaps I am. After all, I just adore risks."

Tom stared at Harry for a long while, incredulous. "What an incredibly selfish thing to do. You risked the lives of others for the sake of your amusement?"

"The lives? No," Harry dismissed. "I doubt Lucius would ever seriously put his son in danger, not mention Draco's mother would have a fit. Besides, not a single student was killed this year. Do you know why?"

"Luck," Tom said blandly.

Harry gave him a condescending smile. "What a naïve thought. I'm not entirely sure why Dumbledore never pursued the Basilisk himself. I'm certain he knew of it quite well, and I'm even more certain he knew about you. However, perhaps he wished to allow this adventure to myself. After all, all he needed to do was protect the students, just like he did all those years ago."

Tom's eyes widened. "You cannot seriously be implying that it was Dumbledore who—"

"All I know is that Dumbledore is a very powerful and wise man who knows the answers to quite a few things. Do you honestly believe he wouldn't know about the Basilisk?"

Tom gave Harry an annoyed glare. "Then why did Myrtle die?"

"That was just unlucky," Harry said, shrugging. "I'm not sure. After all, Myrtle was right there when you opened the Chambers, it would be nothing short of a miracle if she didn't die."

"If he really knew about all of this, why hasn't he come down here himself before, then? And why didn't he stop me?"

"I doubt Dumbledore could come down here," Harry replied. "This place was built by Salazar Slytherin, correct? Dumbledore is great and all, but I doubt even he could enter a place Slytherin did not want him to enter. As for why didn't he stop you…? Maybe he wanted to give you a second chance."

Tom's lips curled in distaste. "That does sound rather like him."

"Enough with this, though," Harry dismissed. "When I found out Dumbledore was leaving, I intended to grab the diary to make sure there would be no more unlucky accidents… Back to my main point. My offer. Do you accept?"

"I accept for now," Tom muttered. "It's not like I have much of a choice."

"No, it isn't." Harry agreed before shooting off the strongest dispelling spell she knew at Ginny. The effects were immediate and Tom glowed a bright white before completely dissolving away. Harry stooped down and picked up the diary at Ginny's side before quickly shooting a Stupefy at her.

She then held up the diary before rummaging through her pack and pulling out a similar-looking one. She transfigured the diary to match the one before her, before she moved straight towards the stones.

"Hello? Basilisk? Can you hear me?"

There was a long pause before the mouth of Slytherin opened. Harry immediately closed her eyes. She could feel the soft crunch of rocks and bones being moved and broken as the great creature slid out of the mouth.

"Who are you, little girl?"

"I am the current Parselmouth in Hogwarts. The one who spoke to you previously was but a memory possessing another student. You must have recognized the voice from fifty years ago," Harry replied.

"I did. I did not quessstion how he came back to the ssschool in the form of a girl, however. Where did he go?"

"He is gone for the moment."

"Will he return?"

"Doubtful."

"Then you are the heir now?"

"It would seem that way. Do you acknowledge me as such?"

Harry felt a hot breath wash over her face. "I have little choice when you ssspeak ssso clearly in my language. Yesss; I acknowledge you as the new heir and my new missstresss. What would you have me do?"

Harry held up the fake diary. "Bite into this, if you would, please. Use your venom. When you are finished, you may go back to sleep. When I return, I will have brought gifts with me to thank you for your… services."

"Very well, missstresss…"

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry's ears were still ringing well after McGonagall's lecture.

"I don't care how upset that woman is… thank you, Harry," Ron said, sitting across Harry in the Gryffindor lounge.

"We owe you," Fred added on the right side of Harry.

"Big time," George also added on the left side of Harry.

Harry flushed. "I was simply fulfilling my duty. Without Dumbledore around Ginny wasn't all that safe anymore."

"Speaking of Dumbledore, I heard he was returning tomorrow," Neville said.

"Now if only they would hurry up and make the mandrake potions," Harry sighed. "I'm actually starting to miss Hermione…"

"Aren't we all," the twins agreed.

"So how long will they keep Ginny in the hospital wing?"

"Not long."

The group of friends glanced up to see Ginny standing shyly before them, smiling. "I… I wanted to say thanks, Harry. I'm really sorry about what I—"

Harry dismissed her concerns. "As I explained to McGonagall, it was the work of a possession of the real past heir of Slytherin. However, seeing how I defeated him, you have no reason to worry."

Ginny nodded her head, smiling. "Yeah… I just… Thanks."

Harry shrugged, flushing lightly and looking away, not comfortable with her gratitude.

"Sure."

(◡‿◡✿)

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Ah! Harry, do come in. What is it you wanted to see me about?"

Harry placed the fake diary on Dumbledore's desk. "This. I didn't…I, uh… I didn't give it to Professor McGonagall and I didn't elaborate much on the possession. I felt like it would be best if I told only you. This—"

"—Is the diary that possessed Ginny?" Dumbledore inquired.

Harry did not reply for a while longer. "Whatever was inside of this diary is no longer there. Basilisk venom destroys the very magical property of anyone or anything."

"Ah, yes, I see… And the Basilisk?"

"Alive and well… Actually, I was hoping to garner your permission for something regarding him…?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a smile. "Yes?"

"Can I keep him?" Harry blurted out before blushing brightly. "I-I promise to take good care of him, and I promise to make sure he doesn't attack anyone else. Well, except maybe Voldewhore, but I think that's kind of understandable—please?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a warm laugh, which somehow made Harry relax a bit more. "If that's what he wants, I don't see why not."

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, beaming brightly. "Does that mean when I graduate Hogwarts—I can take him with me?"

"Of course," Dumbledore allowed.

Harry was trying very hard not to dance in place.

"I, uh, will probably be using the Chambers, just so you know," Harry added. "I already read the school rules and there's nothing against me using them, but I thought you should know."

"Thank you for telling me," Dumbledore replied. "Now, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"My scar was hurting because of the diary," Harry said. "I don't know what that means, but I intend to find out. Other than that? No, there's nothing more I want to tell you."

"Very well. Good day, Harry."

"Good day, Professor Dumbledore."

Harry turned away before hesitating and turning back around. She gave a shy smile. "… It's good to see you back, Professor Dumbledore."

He smiled warmly at her. "It's good to be back."

(◡‿◡✿)

Harry exited Dumbledore's office before finding herself face to face with Lucius.

"Monsieur Malfoy," Harry said, dipping her head politely.

Lucius returned her nod with one of his own. "I brought Dobby. I have business with Dumbledore, so I hope you don't mind if I make this quick."

"Not at all," Harry replied honestly, glancing at Dobby and smiling. Dobby squeaked in surprise. Lucius gave another curt nod before continuing on his way to Dumbledore's office.

"Alright," Harry said bluntly, "ever since Hermione got it into my head, I can't seem to get it out. So I will ask you point blank: do you want to be free?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded her head. "Fine."

She then pulled off her tie and handed it to Dobby. "There. You're technically free. All I ask now, is that you return to my service as a free elf, and I will pay you. Your devotion is too valuable to me for me to give up on you so easily."

Dobby took the tie with wide, watery eyes. "Missus Harry Potter… freed Dobby? And… And Missus Harry Potter wants to pay Dobby?"

"Yes," Harry said.

Dobby burst into tears before latching onto Harry's leg. "Dobby will never forget Missus Harry Potter's kindness!"

Harry sighed.

(◡‿◡✿)

The island was open, the guilds were running and the resort was scheduled to open within a month.

The once petrified students were finally free and working overtime for the classes they missed. Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup again and Oliver broke down crying again, clinging to Harry and Fred (as the two were key in Gryffindor's victory).

All in all, it was a pleasant ending to the school year.

Harry had yet to touch the diary since the Chamber incident, focused instead on creating a specific spell for the diary. She estimated she would have it finished at the beginning of her third year. She visited the Chamber nearly every other day, growing fonder of her companion.

Moratorium was in love with the Chambers, as it seemed no one save them and those they allowed in could enter them. It was the perfect place for him to really work on some of his more elaborate schemes, as well as for him and Harry to practice their spell work and potions. It did require extensive work in making it habitable for humans, though. However, that was what Dobby was for, for the moment. The little elf seemed rather ecstatic to be working for Harry and Harry was pleased to have such a devoted servant.

At Draco's persistence, Harry finally agreed that, starting next year, she would be tutoring her alliances in the more difficult part of spells—silent casting.

Lockhart ended the school year being known as a narcissistic man, who was surprisingly capable of teaching. However, because he had still only signed up for a year at Hogwarts, he would not be returning the following year. Nevertheless, he promised Harry he would keep in touch with letters to make sure that when she finally did debut in the press, she did it with style and grace.

Some leaning on Moratorium's part caused Hagrid's charges from fifty years ago to be dropped and his name was cleared. Even if the true heir of Slytherin would remain anonymous, it was quite clear that Hagrid—who was not a parselmouth—and his pet—which was definitely not a snake—was not the one who killed Myrtle all those years ago and as such, he was given a new wand and cleared of his charges. Moratorium quite liked having his information goldmine kept content and Harry definitely liked her frie—alliance kept content, as well.

And so, that concluded Harry's second year at Hogwarts.

As she rode on the train, squashed in between Hermione and Neville while Ron and Draco continued to bicker and Fred, George and Lee plotted some grand scheme next year, she felt herself smiling.

All in all, it had been a good year.

Her hands rested on the small black book that she kept at the top of her bag.

Harry's smile twisted a bit more.

But somehow, she had a feeling next year would be even better.

(⊙‿⊙✿)

1.) Italicized in most stories means the character's thoughts. Italicized for the most part means Harry's thoughts, however when she's having a conversation with Moratorium, italicized is what Moratorium is saying.

2.) It always seemed so weird that Canon!Harry could 'sense' the Horcruxes... yet he didn't sense anything off or familiar about the diary...? I'm ignoring that plot-hole and just making Harry be able to sense the Horcruxes all the way through like Canon!Harry could at the end.

3.) It seemed even weirder that out of all the accidents... only one person died... and again when the Chamber was opened, all of the supposed attacks weren't fatal. If you so much as look a Basilisk in the eye, you die. It just seemed very... thin... that only one person died. So I gave my own reasons to why I thought that.

4.) Yes. Harry seriously made a deal with Tom Riddle. Why? You'll see more on later chapters exactly what she (and Moratorium) has in store for him. Oh, and I'm pulling my super amazing authoress powers and changing him up a bit... just his personality. I'm making him significantly more rational than Canon!Tom Riddle. As consequence of being more rational, he's less prone to make idiotic moves (like sending in his Basilisk so soon, despite knowing he was up against a rather cunning person and thus ruining that trump card), like he did in Canon.

5.) I'm also changing Oliver Wood's graduating year. Instead of having Harry's third year be his last year, I'm having Harry's fourth year be his last year.

Reviews are love!