Chapter 3: It's Not Over Yet.

Thanks for the reviews. This one is shorter, but I liked where it ended.

My laptop crapped out during my vacation. So, ya'll just had to wait.

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Amelia was at the first petrification crime scene and examining the area. Prickle had already been by and was in the bathroom near here, doing her own investigation. Bones was also upset, because Lovegood was right, the scene was corrupted. Too much time, and people, had passed, and what evidence there had been was long gone.

The words from that night were still there, but the walls around them were clean, like the caretaker had tried to clean them off, but was unable to. They were about chest high to her, and she took that into consideration. It was a clue as to who wrote them. That and the manner in which they were written.

"Tell me what happened that night, and don't waste my time," she said to Dumbledore, who looked affronted. "Just give me the facts," she stated, pulling out a notebook and pen. There were some curious looks, but she ignored them with practiced ease.

"I came upon the scene after the fact. The students had stopped here after the Halloween feast and Argus was harassing Harry Potter over what he thought was the death of his cat. Mrs. Norris was hanging from one of the lamp fixtures. We took the cat into Professor Lockhart's office," Albus said, moving his arms indicating where the cat had been hanging and the direction of the office they had gone to.

"We, who?" she asked, wondering why the old caretaker had singled out the Boy-Who-Lived. Was it because he was a celebrity or was it because of something else? There had to be some other reason. Most didn't just jump into accusations for no reason. Did the boy do some mischief to the old caretaker, and he was holding a grudge? She was going to have to question the man.

"I, Severus, Minerva, Gilderoy, Argus, and Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, going over all who had been present. His eyes were scrunched up a bit in memory, as if trying to recall everyone who had been there.

"Why the last three?" she asked, not sure why the children had to be present. Nor why the other teachers for that matter. "They would have had nothing to contribute to the investigation," she added, knowing that they were mere children.

"I wanted to make sure that Argus knew that Mr. Potter had not killed Mrs. Norris," was the answer.

"You could have done that without the children present. As it was, you singled them out and made them look guilty to the rest of the school, I'm sure," she said, then waved him to continue.

"I examined the cat and discovered she was merely petrified," he finished with a smug smile. He acted like he was quite proud of that achievement.

"Where was the cat hanging?" Amelia asked, wondering about the placement. She looked at the height of the words on the wall and then where he indicated the sconce that the cat had been retrieved from. With the height of the word and the sconce, she did note that the perpetrator must have been a lower-year student. "The chamber was opened before, according to the Quibbler. Xeno stated one person died, and haunted the castle, where is she?" Amelia asked, hoping to get some clue as to who had opened it last time. She, like Xeno, didn't believe that it was Hagrid.

As if on cue there was a loud wailing noise coming from the loo near them. Amelia rushed there just in time to see a female ghost dive into the toilet. "What happened, Gethsemane?" she asked the magical animal expert.

The smug woman said, "I think I found the Chamber of Secrets, and I know what is petrifying the students." She was grinning like she had won the lottery. It was quite a feat since people have been trying for centuries to find the Chamber.

"Oh?" Bones said, narrowing her eyes a bit, making the monocle look like it was wedged into her face. She liked the other woman, but she did like to play games a bit too much. For all she was old, Gethsemane was quite the jokester.

"Oh, pish-posh," Gethsemane said, waving her hand about, unaffected by Amelia's glare. "Don't try to look menacing at me. I've stared down worse than you. The ghost, Myrtle, was killed by a basilisk," she said, still grinning.

"How do you know that?" Amelia asked, greatly concerned. If there were a basilisk then the school would have to be closed until they could kill it.

Gethsemane explained, "She said that the last thing she saw, before she died, was two large yellow eyes. That is a basilisk." She looked smug again. She pointed to the ancient sinks that were ornately decorated. "It came from those sinks," she added, making everyone turn to the sinks in question.

Amelia went to examine them, very cautiously. If there was a basilisk under them, that was bad news to everyone. Not even Gethsemane would take chances of approaching one without a lot of caution. On one of the useless faucets was a picture of a snake. "Did the ghost say anything else?" she asked the creature expert.

"She said she heard some hissing," was the answer.

"Parselmouth," Amelia deducted.

"I don't know of any in England," the creature expert said. "Believe me I've looked." She wanted one to work for her. Her job would be much easier if she had one on staff. The rumor of them being evil was just superstition.

"Potty Potter is a parselmouth," Peeve said, hoping to wreak havoc.

"Is he now," Gethsemane said, her smile going wide. She knew who she was going to talk to next.

It was just then that a messenger Patronus, in the shape of a terrier, came into the room. It went right up to Amelia. "There's a battle in the lobby of the ministry. We have some injured on both sides," the dog Patronus said and then faded away.

"Blast and damnation," Bones said, then she turned to her people. "Secure this room. No one, not even Dumbledore, can come in. Gethsemane can stay with her people, but no one else. I want two people outside this room at all times," she ordered as she pointed to the two who were staying. "Gethsemane, don't go into the Chamber without me," she said, pointing at her friend, who only nodded. She then gathered up the rest, and they hit the door running.

They passed a startled Dumbledore, who had been eavesdropping in the hallway.

"We'll be back," Amelia said, not stopping for a moment. She just hoped that her men listened to her and didn't let the old man into the room.

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There were already three down on the pureblood side and five down on the other. It hadn't started out as a deadly engagement, and they were only throwing some nonlethal spells. However, there was some people who got caught in the crossfire, and there were injuries because of the backlashes of the debris. One person was hit in the head with a piece of the house elf statue. Another fell and slammed their head on the fountain. Things like this was causing both sides to get more and more lethal.

The purebloods had not fought in any kind of battle and seemed to forget they learned the same spells along with the people they were fighting. Those purebloods that had been Death Eaters had lived a life of luxury for the last thirteen years. They were soft. They too forgot that the muggleborn carried the same deadly weapon they did.

Rita had changed and flew to the top of the wall and watched as the purebloods tried to make the muggleborn stop their strike. The muggleborn were on the far side of the Fountain of Magical Brethren holding their own. There was a massive shield that was in front of the protesters. It wasn't letting many spells in, and it was being projected by the Aurors and the protesters alike.

Insults were being thrown back and forth between the two groups, and neither was better fighters than the other, much to the purebloods disdain. They still thought they were superior to the muggleborn, since they were taught that from birth, and no amount of proof otherwise would make them change their minds.

"Go back to work and be happy you have a job, you low life scum," Lucius Malfoy said to Thomas Starchers, each had their wands raised towards the other. The Death Eaters and purebloods didn't want to use their wands to kill them. They just wanted them to know their place and do the jobs they were hired to do. The purebloods certainly didn't want to do the menial work. It was the place of the mudbloods. They were little better than house elves.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Starchers said back to him, not lowering himself to name calling. He was standing in front of the shield, making a stand for his rights. He made the others stay behind the shield, but he wasn't scared of this popinjay.

"You should know your place," the blond man said, once more throwing a spell at the man, who deflected it with ease.

"We deserve to work the higher paying jobs," Thomas tried to explain to the man. "We pay the same taxes as you. We should get the same type of work. We went to the same school and learned the same lessons. Just like anyone else, yet we are treated like trash," he added, throwing up a shield to block a spell coming his way.

So far, the spells had been nonlethal, which was surprising. He was sure that Malfoy just didn't want witnesses to see his true colors. They weren't the only ones here after all. There were plenty of workers in the ministry that were watching this confrontation.

"You deserve nothing," Malfoy stated, flipping his hair over his shoulder in a snobbish way.

"No more," Starchers said, making it a chant. He was willing to use lethal spells to protect himself. He was not a defenseless house elf. He was sure that if the house elves were able to, they would stand up to these repressive people as well. But the elves were a cursed race. It was why they could never be freed. Well, he'd be damned if the muggleborn were ever going to become like the house elf.

"No More!" the chant was taken up. They were tired of misrepresentation. They had the education and paid the taxes; they damn well should be able to get the jobs.

"You reject our way of life," Malfoy stated, like it was fact. "You come in here with your new ideas, and muggle values and try to change us," he sneered, casting another spell at the leader of the rebellion, for that is what he was coming to think of this.

"We do not," Thomas snapped, his tone firm, the spell splashing off his shield. "We embrace the wizarding way of life, but we reject the backwards bigotry that you foist off on us," he countered. "Of course, we reject the fact that the purebloods are better, we have proven that is incorrect. Why do you think we are here now?" he questioned in the tone that said the man was of limited intelligence.

"You dare," Malfoy said, his spell getting a bit more dangerous. The lowlife just insulted him.

"We should have representation on the government. We don't. We should have judges that are our peers, there are not. None of you have a clue how we live or think," Thomas said, getting a head of steam. He had really been thinking about how they were so poorly represented in the wizarding world these last three days. It started out a strike for better work, but now it was for a better life. Well, for him.

"Yeah," someone else said, "the only reason you get away with the shite you do, is because you have money, bad faith," a person in the middle of the crowd said.

That got Malfoy really riled. It was a thorn in his craw, his name. Not many in Britain knew the meaning of it. "You dare," he said again, but could not identify who said it. He threw a borderline dark spell into the crowd, and it shattered the shield that the Aurors had been maintaining. The protesters were quick to erect a new one, this one was a tad bit stronger than the other one. This just got serious.

"Just what the blazes is going on here," came the voice of Madam Bones as she fired off some bangs from her wand, making everyone look in her direction. "I go away for five minutes, and you are breaking so many laws I should haul you all in." She was not happy.

"Madam Bones," Lucius tried to soothe, knowing it was futile. That woman didn't like him. With good reason.

"Save it, Malfoy," she said, moving to the middle of the room. "I was in the middle of something far more important than a bunch of adults acting like children," she said, pointing to the purebloods. "I will be doing a full investigation on every one of you here. If I find this was sanctioned by the higher ups, then heads will roll. Until then, get out," she demanded. From what she could see, there were no dead and few injured. The eight that were down were moving and there were people on both sides, tending to them.

She nodded to her people, who were still looking at the purebloods like they were the culprits here. Their wands were at the ready, and they were standing in front of the protesters to protect them, even if it seemed as if it was not needed.

"What of them?" Malfoy asked, pointing to the protesters, who still had their wands drawn as they hid behind their shield. "They were firing spells at us too," he added, like it was a great crime.

"I didn't see them fire off one spell," Amelia said, truthfully. "All I saw was them putting up a shield. Besides, if they did before I got here, I'm sure they were just defending their selves," she said, looking to her people who were on the side of the protesters.

"You cannot be serious," Malfoy said, his eyes narrowed.

"I am very serious," Bones said, her voice very firm. "If they had fired the first spell, my people would have arrested them. Those are my standing orders. As long as they are peaceful, they can stay here." She looked down her nose at the man. "Be glad I don't haul you in for trying to incite a riot," she added, fingering her wand. "You have until I count to three," she said, silently starting to count.

"You wouldn't dare," Malfoy said, incorrectly. He was a pureblood; she didn't have the authority to arrest him. Or so he thought. His little bubble was about to be popped.

"Three," she said, firing a stunning spell at him and those around him. Her people doing the same. 'Perhaps a few days in lock up would do them some good', she thought, feeling quite good at arresting these overgrown blowhards. She knew Fudge would throw a fit, but if Skeeter is around, then the story is going to be great.

Skeeter, seeing that the fun was over, decided not to push her luck further, and skedaddled. She had a story to write. Starting with how peaceful the children finished their protest to how it was just the start of the problem.

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The parents of the students that had protested came to Hogwarts the next day. They were helped by Xeno Lovegood and the half-blood parents that had taken the letters to them. And they were pissed. Especially Colin's and Justin's fathers. They had to be told by strangers that their children were frozen in the Hospital Wing.

The other muggleborn parents were dealt with by McGonagall, who took them to see their children, to make sure they knew they were alright.

The Creevey and the Finch-Fletchley fathers were not happy people. They marched straight to their children in the Hospital Wing and demanded to see them. They were led to the beds they were laying in, and were stunned to see them just laying there unmoving. There didn't seem to be any monitors or anything that showed they were being tended to. It was like they were just put on the bed and left alone.

Though to be honest neither man knew what else could be done.

"Why were we not informed?" Mr. Finch-Fletchley asked when he saw his son laying frozen on the bed. "We could have taken him to the hospital," he stated, like it was the obvious thing to have been done.

"Your muggle hospital would have done no good," Pomfrey said indignant. She had done all she could for the boys. She was proud of the care she gave her patients. She would do more, but the headmaster stayed her hand more times than not. "They are in no pain," she offered, hoping to placate them some.

"I meant St. Mungo's," the irate father said. He sat next to his son and looked vexed that she was treating him like a moron. "I did donate a large sum of money to the place, I am sure they would have given him preferential treatment," he said, like the rich man he was. "At least there, I know they will do more than put him in a bed and leave him alone," he added, trying to hold his son's hand, but couldn't because it was frozen solid.

"How could you have done that?" she said with a sniff. Not that she was prejudice, but he was a muggle. It didn't make sense that a muggle could donate to a magical hospital.

"Money talks no matter what form it takes," was his answer. "Your goblins were more than accommodating," he added. He then turned to the door as he heard someone coming down the hall. It was the headmaster. "You," he said accusingly, getting out of his chair. "For all you say you support the muggleborn, you have treated these children abysmally," he said, pointing to his son and young Colin.

Xeno Lovegood was taking it all in for his news article. He remained unnoticed in the background. He knew he would be getting quite the scoop if he just stayed out of the way.

"I demand that my son be taken to St. Mungo's this instant," Mr. Finch-Fletchley stated, standing firm. He would have his son revived, and then assess the situation. He wasn't sure if the boy would stay here. He was rich enough to afford tutors, and have Justin learn nonmagical studies. He might not be able to get his son into Eaton again, but he could get the best tutors from both worlds.

"My son too," Mr. Creevy said, though he didn't know how he'd pay for it. He was only a milkman. While it wasn't a horrible job, it wasn't elite. He was sure they would accept some form of payments. Most hospitals did.

"Now, gentlemen, we are growing the mandrakes as we speak," Dumbledore said, moving his hands in a placating manner. "They will be ready in a few months' time," he said, like it was such a short amount of time.

"I know, they won't be ready until the school year ends," the elite man said, his voice cultured and refined. "That is unacceptable. The hospital has already confirmed with me that they can undo this petrification in a matter of minutes. They import mandrakes all year long. These two boys can then resume their studies. Assuming I will let my boy continue his education here," the man said, his eyes narrowing. The old man, for all he was a headmaster, didn't seem to care about Colin's and Justin's education. It should be his first priority.

Mr. Creevey didn't feel he had the option but to let Colin come back. It was a state funded school and he had been told that if his son did not get the education, his magic could kill him and those around him. He didn't want to take the chance with is son's life. That and his younger child was showing signs of being magical too.

"I will call St. Mungo's and have the antidote brought here," Dumbledore compromised, knowing it was a losing battle. Mr. Finch-Fletchley was a man as wealthy as Malfoy, if not more so, and he knew how to get things done in both worlds. He had the goblins on his side the minute he stepped foot in the magical world. Making him smarter than Malfoy.

"I still want to discuss how the muggleborn are going to be protected," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, straightening his sleeves, glad he got his way. He was still majorly peeved that Mr. Lovegood was the one to tell him that his son was petrified, and not the school. He was going to see about getting a Parent Teachers Association set up, if he had to use his mass fortune to get it done. This was just not right.

He heard the muggleborn were protesting, via Lovegood, perhaps he would throw his lot in with them. They might be able to use some muggle weapons on their side. He would have to see, after he was done here. He knew how to get into the ministry. He had learned the moment he learned about Justin being a part of this world. Politicians were a major part of any world and you needed to know where the movers and shakers were, and how to bribe them if need be. Or blackmail them if it came down to that.

Poppy Pomfrey was on the floo with St. Mungo's getting the antidote for her patients. They were not happy with her. She should have called them when it first happened. She was only following orders from her boss though, so they were letting it slide, but they were going to put her under review. Her patients' welfare should come first.

It arrived within minutes, and both Justin and Colin were up and moving. Xeno had moved to hide behind a curtain, still unnoticed by the headmaster. He smelled a story, and he was hoping for a happy ending.

"Justin, we need to talk," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, looking at his son as the boy's eyes blinked a few times.

"I need to say I'm sorry to Harry Potter," were the first words out of the boy's mouth. "I mean, sorry, why do we need to talk?" he said, to his dad. He was still getting his bearings.

"I want to know what happened to you and if you want to stay here, when the danger is over. I am taking you home until then," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, this time putting his hand on his son's shoulder. He was greatly relieved to feel soft muscle under his hand, and not frozen solid flesh like before.

"There's a great ruddy snake slithering around," Justin said, shivering violently. Colin shivered too and hugged his father. "Ginny Weasley is leading it," he added, looking to the headmaster.

"Oh dear," was all the old man said as he raised his wand.