Harry's POV

I walked down the corridor, as angry as I've ever been. I had just left the library and had overheard a conversation between several Hufflepuffs. How dare they—sneaking around, making snap decisions, implying that—

Before I could finish my thought, the corridor grew very cold and became darker. I stopped walking for a moment, furrowing my brow, my anger quickly fading into confusion. If I had kept walking, I suppose my back could have been saved the sharp pain as something solid and heavy rammed into it.

The student who had just appeared in the corridor and I fell to the floor; they landed on top of me, forcing the wind out of my lungs. As we landed, my glasses were knocked off and there was a clatter as they, along with something else metal, skid across the stone floor. We both exclaimed in pain and surprise. They rolled off me and I took a deep breath. I coughed as my lungs filled painfully, picked up my glasses, and sat up to see a dark blurry figure, which, after I put my glasses on, I recognized as Raven.

She was trying to get up, using the wall for support. Her head kept dropping and her eyelids seemed heavy. She looked tired. She was almost upright when she lost balance and knocked over a suit of armor, which fell apart. I stood and hurried over to make sure she was okay.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a metal canteen that had Ancient Greek symbols on it, which I recognized as Raven's initials. I picked it up, assuming it contained that drink that could heal her.

Raven was pushing bits of armor off her body, clutching her head above her right brow. She was attempting to sit up but was having difficulty doing it left-handed.

I stood and reached a hand to help her up. She took it, and I pulled her to her feet. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to convince herself, then removed her hand from her head. The metal from the armor had cut a two-inch gash just above her right eyebrow It had begun to bleed and stain her brow, and her hand had smeared it. I wondered how she managed to maintain an emotionless expression. She wiped the wound with her hand, only smearing the blood further.

"Sorry," she said, sounding as tired as she looked. "You okay?"

"Where have you been?" I asked without answering her question.

As we began walking, she told me about her search to find the record of Salazar Slytherin. She even told me about her conversation with her stepmother. I couldn't help but feel angry at Zeus and Voldemort, which, I quickly became aware, only fueled her anger. Then I told her about what I overheard in the library.

"Wait," she said after I'd finished. "They think that we're the heirs of Slytherin?"

"Close. They think that I'm the heir and you're my little sidekick."

"Oh, no damn way am I anyone's sidekick!" she said. After a few moments, she added, "Who do they think we are, Slytherin's Batman and Robin?"

I laughed at the analogy. I remembered watching the cartoon while Dudley watched. Of course, I was busy slaving away for the Dursleys while I did, but I at least snuck in a little entertainment.

Raven managed a smirk, grasped my shoulder and pointed at the ceiling, pretending to have spotted the Bat-Signal.

"Holy Bat-Signal, Batman!"

"To the Batmobile, Robin!" I said.

She stepped in front of me, began walking backwards and mimicked driving the Batmobile while humming the old cartoon theme. For the first time in weeks, I laughed so hard my sides began to hurt.

"Na-na na-na na-na na-na BATMA—Oomph!"

She tripped backwards over something rather large, hitting her head on the hard floor. I stopped laughing, and I could feel the color fading from my face. She was sprawled over Justin Finch-Fetchley.

Just beyond Raven and Justin was what was left of Nearly-Headless Nick. He looked stiff; I'd say dead if he weren't already.

Raven cursed in Ancient Greek (I believe the correct translation is 'shit') loudly. Her ADHD probably caused her to say it louder than she had intended, but whatever the reason, students and teachers began flooding the corridor. It was easy for them to get the wrong idea: Nearly-Headless Nick, Raven atop Justin, and me standing over them. Raven scrambled to get up, and there was an uproar. Raven and I were cornered against a wall, surrounded on all sides by a wall of accusations:

"Caught in the act!"

"—couldn't kill Nick, so you got Death Girl, eh?"

"—she was in on it! I knew—"

"—hope you're satisfied, you—"

The teachers restored order and ordered then back to class.

Despite our protests, Professor McGonagall led us to Dumbledore's office. She left us there to face our punishment alone.

…Dramatic.

Raven's POV

It was the second time I'd been in Dumbledore's office, this time not out of my own accord.

I looked around. The room hadn't changed much since the first time. Except…

"Whoa," I whispered. I saw a phoenix, standing atop a perch. I glanced at Harry, who had picked up an old, grubby-looking hat. My attention returned to the phoenix. I found myself smiling, despite the fact that this was a creature that had cheated death.

But it looked old; most of its feathers had molted and had fallen into the small, shallow basin beneath its perch. 'It must be ready to go' I thought.

Harry's voice caused my head to once again turn in his direction. He had put the hat on and was muttering seemingly to himself.

I rolled my eyes, looked back at the phoenix, and reached up a hand to stroke its head. Its eyes blinked and it moved its head away suspiciously. I showed it both my empty hands so it knew that I meant it no harm. Reluctantly, it allowed me to stroke its side. I laughed quietly.

It looked into my eyes, as if reading my personality and seeing who i was. It then turned to the wound on my forehead, which had stopped bleeding for the moment. It let out a small gurgling chirp, leaned over, and began leaking tears on my wound. My mouth uncontrollably hung open as the tears melted my wound away. My stomach warmed as i felt my forehead and the wound had vanished. I moved my hair to cover my face again.

"Thanks," I breathed in slightly less than a whisper.

"You're wrong," I heard Harry say. I looked at him as he put away the old hat.

"What's that?" I asked, still stroking the phoenix.

"The Sorting Hat," he answered, still looking at it. "I was just—whoa." He'd turned around and saw the phoenix. He walked over and I quickly drew my hand back away from it. It had begun to smell of sulfur, which meant that—

Fwoom

The bird burst into flames.

I smiled as it reduced to ashes, which fell into the basin underneath it. Meanwhile, Harry's heart gave a surprised jerk and he stumbled back in shock.

Before I could explain that this was natural, Dumbledore entered the room.

Harry's POV

Dumbledore's bird caught fire, and Raven just watched it, smiling. I was shocked. What would Dumbledore say if he—

Right on cue, Dumbledore came in. Before I could explain what happened, Raven spoke up.

"It seems it was his Burning Day." She said, peering into the small bowl underneath the bird's perch, where the ashes had fallen.

Dumbledore smiles in response. "About time, too. He's been looking dreadful for days."

"Well, for his sake, I hope he's in better shape normally than on his Burning Day."

I was completely confused. "Will somebody please explain this?"

Dumbledore crossed the room toward us. "Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry," he said. "They burst into flame when it is time for them to die and then they are reborn from the ashes."

"How long does he normally take?" Raven asked, peering curiously into the basin. As she did, the small head of a bird slowly lifted its head out of the ash. She smiled warmly, a rarity.

"I suppose I should hate these beings. After all, they cheat death. But I've always been fascinated by them. I mean, they carry things heavier than a hellhound, their tears have healing powers.." I lifted my bangs to reveal that my wound missing.

"Not to mention they make extremely faithful pets," said Dumbledore. He sat down at his desk, now serious.

"Now, about this business with Justin and Sir Nicholas."

Raven took her attention from Fawkes-the-baby-phoenix and she and I began to speak at the same time.

"Sir, I can explai—"
"We were just passing by—"

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence us. "Relax. I do not believe that either of you attacked anyone."

We were surprised by this. "You don't think it was us?" we chorused.

"No, I do not, but I must ask…if there is anything you wish to tell me?"

I thought for a moment. I looked at Raven, who shrugged.

"No, sir. Nothing." I said.

Raven's POV

The next few weeks were rough.

I had grown numb to the rumors, the pointing, the hissing, and the whispers, but even the ghosts had grown wary of me. Before, they were rather submissive, calling me 'master' whenever I passed, seeming eager to do anything I asked. Now they took one look at me, bowed shakily, stuttered "M-ma-master," then got the Hades away.

Harry was getting sick of it as well. I was glad that a few of our closer friends agreed that the entire thing was bullshit. In fact, Fred and George and I were in the Common Room discussing business when the subject came up. They suggested something that made me laugh so hard, they went through with it. Sooner than I'd expected.

"Make way for the servants of Slytherin!"

"Pray to your personal god that they don't team up and steal your soul in your sleep!"

"Truly an evil dream team!" they said as they walked in front of us down the corridors, as if our personal valets or something. I was pleased that this brightened Harry's mood at least a little.

But the polyjuice potion was nearly ready. While they were interrogating Malfoy, I would be interrogating Salazar Slytherin.

I spent Christmas Eve at home. I had my first taste of Butterbeer and stayed up all night.

At around one o'clock in the morning, I decided to shop for my friends. At the last second, of course. I bought Hermione a pen and pencil set and a notebook from Barnes and Nobles. I found a nice MP3 player at a Best Buy that I bought for myself. I bought some Muggle Candy called RedVines for Ron and Harry. I also Shadow-traveled to Diagon Alley (and passed out for a few hours) to buy Harry some broomstick handle polish. I went home and wrapped each gift in black paper, then downloaded a few songs on my MP3 player.

Christmas morning.
I received a fresh-baked batch of brownies from Aunt Demeter, and a bouquet of black carnations from Persephone, which I would pull apart later that night. My father always got me the best gifts; this year, he gave me a Stygian Iron ring with a skull on the front which I could use to channel my powers. It doubled my power when accompanied by my sword.

That evening, while my father and his wife and sister/in law got wasted, I snick away to one of the emptier areas of the Underworld and summoned a few skeletal servants to dig a grave-like hole. Once it was deep enough, I dismissed them and pulled out a six-pack of Butterbeer and a leftover roast. I tossed in the meat and poured out the Butterbeers one at a time, chanting in Ancient Greek:

"Let the dead taste again. Let them drink. Let them partake in the offering and let them remember. Salazar Slytherin, come to me!"

After a few minutes of summoning, a shapeless spirit came from the direction of Asphodel. I stared as it bent down at the foot of the grave, drinking the offering. When it straightened, it had taken the form of a tall, elegant-looking man with a rather pointy face and long, dark hair.

"Well, this is a very lively interruption in my busy schedule of standing around Asphodel forever," he said, sounding particularly bored. He looked me up and down. "Why have you summoned me?"

I was caught a little off-guard, but I said, "Your heir has returned. Again."

Salazar's spirit furrowed his brow. "Again, you say? …What year is it currently?"

"1992,"

He nodded, his brow furrowing deeper. "Much time has passed. 'Again' did you say?"

"Yes. Fifty years ago was the first time. Can't figure who it was or is, but they've returned and are attacking people with your monster." I was a little annoyed. This wasn't going the way I wanted at all.

At this, Slytherin smirked but began to pace,

"I never expected my heir to return twice. Has anyone died yet?"

"Not this time, it's only petrified students. Now, no more questions." I drew my sword. "I summoned you here to answer a few of my own."

He smiled wryly. "Can you not figure it out for yourself? Surly the daughter of—" He looked behind me, and his smirk disappeared. "L-Lord Hades—"

"You are dismissed," said my father's voice behind me.

Salazar's form blurred and rushed back to Asphodel.

"Wait!" I kicked a nearby rock out of frustration. "Dammit, I was interrogating him!"

"Why were you questioning a founder of your school?" My father sounded more confused than angry, which was good.

I looked at him and the next question flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Was he your son?"

Hades' lips pressed into a thin line. His wild black eyes, the ones I'd inherited, wandered to the grave I'd dug and moved to refill it. I walked over and began filling it beside him.

"He was not my son," he said as we worked. "Nor is he your relative in any way." He looked up from his work to me. "Now, why are you obsessing over this?"

I explained what was happening at school, with the attacks and me and Harry being put constantly on the spot. He nodded slowly as he listened.

"So as we speak, they're interrogating someone who might be the real heir while I'm trying to figure this shit out.

"Well, you've gotten what you can. You'd better get back to school to share what you've gotten and gather what they've found.

I stood, nodded, and shouldered my bag. I furrowed my brow.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"If you knew what the monster was, you'd tell me, right?"

He, too, frowned. "I would if it's killed someone, which you say it hasn't. I will let you know what I can when I learn it."

I nodded, said goodbye, and Shadow-traveled into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

I was so tired, my vision became blurry. I groaned and sat down hard. A stall door opened a little and I heard Hermione's voice. "Raven, are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, attempting to sit up. There was a slam of a door as the stall door closed very swiftly. I looked at the door that was now between me and her.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you go with the boys?"

"I—"she squeaked, her voice very high pitched. But she was interrupted when both boys burst into the room. Their robes were much too large for them and Harry's glasses were missing.

"Well, that wasn't a complete waste of time," said Ron.

Harry grabbed his glasses from one of the mirrors, put them on, and noticed me. "Raven, you're back!" he said, looking pleased to see me. "Did you find anything?"

"Hit a dead end. Only found out that he wasn't my half-brother," I said. "How 'bout you?"

Meanwhile, Ron pounded his fist on the door of Hermione's stall. "Come out, we've got loads to tell you."

"Go away!"

We exchanged glanced as Myrtle floated over, looking pleased.

"Wait till you see, my Lady—"

"Just Master's fine," I said hastily. I hated the title 'Lady'. Makes me feel girly.

"Master," she amended, still beaming. "It's awful." She giggled.

Hermione reluctantly opened the door and showed us…

Three words: Catgirl on steroids.

"The Polyjuice Potion's only for human transformations!" she sobbed. "It was cat hair I got off Millicent Bulstrode's robes!"

All I did was stare blankly at her. My legs gave out and I fell to my knees.

We took her to the hospital wing and I gave her the gift I'd bought her then (Harry and Ron both enjoyed their gifts very much). For the next few weeks, we brought her the assignments she needed.

"She should be out of hospital in a couple of weeks," said Harry as we were leaving the hospital wing and headed down the corridors, "when she stops coughing up fur balls."

The three of us laughed, which was a rarity these days. But as we reached the next corridor, we noticed water on the floor. Not just puddles like before, but a deep layer of water.

"Uh-oh,"

We followed it to the source: Myrtle's bathroom.

When we entered, she was sobbing on the circular sill of the stained-glass window. When she saw us, she said, "What? Come to throw something else at me?"

"Why would we throw something at you?" I said soothingly, trying to calm her.

"Don't ask me." She straightened and floated down to the floor, still near the far wall. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me." She said miserably.

"But it can't hurt if someone throws something at you," said Harry. "I mean, it'll just go right through you, right?"

"Harry!" I hissed.

Too late. Myrtle floated over so fast, I blinked once and she was practically nose-to-nose with Harry.

"Sure! Let's all throw books at Myrtle because she can't feel it! Ten points if you get it through her stomach!" she thrust her fist through Harry's middle, much to his surprise. "Fifty points if It goes through her head!" she did the same with his head.

"But who threw it at you?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said a little quieter. "I was just sitting in the U-bend thinking about death, and it fell through the top of my head." She let out a long whine and floated off.

I looked at Harry and Ron, then scanned the floor for the book. It wasn't hard to find; it was small, thin, had a dark cover and, like everything else, was soaked. I walked over to it with Harry and Ron following me. I reached down to grab it, but before I could, my head began to ache and my gut tugged. I stopped and straightened.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"There's something…weird about it." I said vaguely.

Ron began to ramble on about cursed books. I didn't really pay attention to a word he was saying.

Harry picked up the book, which turned out to be a fifty-year-old diary belonging to someone named T.. Ron recognized the name from a Special Award for Services to the school.

"I don't know about this thing, guys," I said warily.

"It might have information in it," suggested Ron.

"No, it's blank," said Harry, who had opened the wet diary.

"What should we do with it then?"

Harry pocketed it. "I'll check it out later," he said.

Apparently he meant 'later' as 'let's just forget it' because, other than trying to see if it was truly blank and finding out who Tom Riddle was, the subject never came up.