Whispers in Her Hair

by Indygodusk

In Slytherin, Harry can become powerful and respected. It's hard to make friends with a rival house, but exchanging flying lessons for tutoring is a good excuse. No one needs to know the truth, that Harry's interest in Hermione Granger starts because of an obsession with her hair and curiosity over her confidence with snakes. (Harry/Hermione)

25. Second Year - Cat, Dog, and Dark Lady

AN: The end of the Slytherin ruckus. I made the cardinal mistake of reading too closely as I spell-checked and then feeling forced to add more content, staying up until 130 a.m. Silly author. No more though, this baby is coming out! There's still no Hermione in this chapter, but I promise she'll be back in the next one. Enjoy the rest of the events!

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Whispers in Her Hair

by Indygodusk

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Chapter 25: Second Year - Cat, Dog, and Dark Lady

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A giant tadpole smacked into the dangling Manic, though it wasn't Harry's fault this time. The impact sent the dog boy swinging like a giant pendulum, knocking down nearby students and getting random objects stuck to the goo on his body, including the thrown tadpole, quills, wands, throw pillows, and Mr. Sinister Barrister—a fourth-year's tabby cat.

"Meowww-row-ROW!" Mr. Sinister Barrister yowled his distress as he was swung around in circles while stuck to Manic's body. Mr. Sinister Barrister was a spoiled little brat of a cat, in Harry's private opinion, but he did sort of feel bad for the animal, getting stuck to Manic's like that. However, when the tadpole on Manic abruptly shrank small again, the cat went slit-eyed and silent. Using his claws to drag himself up and over the goo on Manic's body, ignoring Manic's doglike warbles, Mr. Sinister Barrister snapped his head forward and swallowed the wiggling tadpole in a single gulp, chewing with disturbing gusto.

"Poor Sini-Barry, stuck on Manic like that," Pansy said at Harry's side. "Send him a few more snacks, Harry, would you?"

Harry didn't know why Pansy couldn't just do it herself, but he did know better than to ask, especially when she was wielding her wand with such gusto. Sighing, he flung four more tadpoles over to stick to Manic's body, making sure the last one hit hard enough to get the slowing-down Manic swinging in wide circles again.

At that point, Harry became too busy to keep watching. Nearby, two fifth-years decided to break up their romance over a badly thrown tadpole and started a violent jinxing match. Harry and his friends lost a chair and then a table from their defensive wall due to stray spells as the former couple's friends chose sides and joined in on the dispute.

"I don't know what I ever saw in you," the girl sobbed and shrieked. "I must've been cursed with an Imperious to date you!"

"I was the one cursed! The whole time, you were just waiting to stab me in the back with a tadpole!" screamed the red-faced boy, eyes watering as he waved his wand wildly through the air.

Head drawing back and lip curling, Draco sniffed. "So undignified." Wand lifting, he hit the older boy with a jinx, making the tears dripping from the boy's eyes turn into flashing lightning bolts and causing his hair to frizz out like a puffball.

The fifth-year juddered in place, slapping at his face and rubbing frantically. Looking up and around, mouth open in outrage, his eyes zeroed in on Draco's smirk and still-raised wand. Eyes narrowing, his gaze darted around the group of second-years in their fortified location. He threw his hand out. "Hey, hold up a second! Do you see this?!" He jabbed a finger at them. "The second-years are getting uppity! They're to blame for all of this!"

There was a moment where time seemed to slow as it felt like everyone turned to glare at the Vipers with menace shooting from their eyes.

"Knock 'em flat!" an angry voice called.

A scary rumble of agreement filled the air and then their little fortification became a scene of pure chaos as they came under a barrage of spells. Someone, probably Blaise, managed to throw a blanket up over their heads and turned it into chainmail, blocking most of the spells, though it made a horrendous racket as it shattered, sending metal links flying everywhere.

Harry ducked with his hands over his head and tried to scramble to safety, imagining this was what it felt like to be shelled in a trench during World War I. He would worry about Snape finally noticing something and everyone getting in epic amounts of trouble, except the Bloody Baron was having too much fun as a bystander and would keep the other ghosts and portraits from tattling until he was done. So much magic in such a confined and dimly lit space made the common room feel like being inside a disco ball full of fireworks as it tumbled down a spiral staircase. Everything was strobing lights and unearthly sounds, treacherously uneven flooring, and tumbling bodies twisting into unnatural shapes. Scary tumbled side-by-side with silly. Delighted giggling and tormented moans filled the room as if someone had opened the gates of hell and a herd of imps had escaped.

Kneeling behind the edge of the couch, Harry desperately focused on shoring up their rapidly crumbling defenses and looking for a way to retreat, trying to find a way to keep his friends from being destroyed.

"Watch out!" Daphne cried. "Up!"

They all looked up. In mid-air floated a cylinder of sloshing liquid full of pale orange shapes, magic its only container. He could hear Theo laughing in the distance—the jerk. This was probably Theo's fault. The blob moved jerkily forward until it hovered above Harry. That doesn't look good.

Thinking fast, Harry tried to hit it with a gust of wind to blow it back towards the area of Theo's laughter. Unfortunately in his haste, he got the spell wrong. Magic shot out of his wand, hit the blob, and made it explode, drenching everyone in sticky syrup and what tasted like peach chunks.

Sluicing off his sticky face and spitting to clear his mouth, the first thing Harry saw was Theo standing up from his hiding place, pointing at Harry, holding his side, and laughing hysterically. Harry was going to kill Theo.

"Harry," Draco growled, glaring at him with peaches still dribbling down his cheeks and catching in his hair and ears. His silver-blond hair looked disturbingly similar to the pale orange fungus that liked to grow beneath Aunt Petunia's bushes.

Yeah, Harry wanted revenge on Theo, but first, he had to survive Draco's temper. "It wasn't me!" Harry yelped, shying away from Draco.

Before Draco could reply to that obvious lie, he was distracted by something jumping onto his shoulders and biting at the peaches in his hair. Draco fell over with a shriek. Purring, Mr. Sinister Barrister sat on his face. The cat's fur was spiky with goo as he ate the chunks of peaches from Draco's hair with gusto. Draco tried to yank him off, only to get his hands stuck to the goo in the cat's fur.

Chuckling, Harry looked up and saw that Theo had moved closer, crouching down behind the cover of a large vase directly across from Harry. The smile dropped instantly from Harry's face. Theo met Harry's eyes with a nasty glare. "Drowned rat is a good look on you, Potter. You don't belong in Slytherin or the magical world," Theo spat. "You're not good enough and not wanted, a broken and stupid orphan who should've been obliviated and left to those disgusting muggles you call family, though they probably don't want you either." Harry flinched back, unable to control his reaction as those words hit home.

Theo gave an ugly smile. "I'll take up a collection for your train ticket since everyone wants you gone and I know a beggar like you probably can't afford it. I'll even let you keep the red sauce and peaches in your hair to suck on when your muggle relatives start starving you again."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Theo laughed at his reaction. Harry felt lightheaded. How did Theo know about that? Harry had never told anyone about how the Dursleys starved and abused him. Did everyone know? Had they laughed about it behind his back? Were they all just waiting for him to fail so they had an excuse to send him back there?

Tossing his floppy bangs out of his eyes, still chuckling meanly, Theo raised his wand and cast a sickly yellow spell at Harry. Fumbling for his wand, Harry tried and failed to cast a shield spell. He was too upset to get the words out right. He braced himself for pain, but an iridescent bubble formed in front of his body and the yellow spell glanced off without hitting him and splattered against the floor before disappearing.

"Suck on this," Blaise snapped as he moved up even with Harry and cast three rapid Hair Trimming Charms in a row, making his wand movements as big as possible without making the spell too different to not work.

Theo was too slow to avoid the spells as a blizzard of hair shavings flew off his scalp and up into the air. For a moment he sat obscured in a shadowy cloud of fuzz and then the hair dropped to the floor, leaving him covered in black flecks and leaving the crown of his head with stubble no longer than a fingernail. "Wha—?" Theo ran a shaky hand over his scalp. "No, not my hair," he wailed. "How dare you!"

"Rather easily," Blaise said with a shrug as he clasped Harry's arm and gently tugged him a step away from Theo. "Leave Harry alone. We're not just allies, we're friends." He said it with weight. The touch on Harry's arm and the defense—both magical and verbal—sent a warm pulse through Harry's body. He gave Blaise a grateful look. Nodding once, Blaise let Harry go and pivoted to the side, casting something to deflect a spell from hitting Pansy as he ducked and crawled away to reinforce the other side of their fort.

For a moment the place where Blaise had let go of Harry felt ice cold. Then Draco pressed up against Harry's other side—a familiar warmth smelling faintly of cologne and wet cat as his bony elbow glanced against Harry's ribs—and Harry felt better again.

"You're the one no one wants around, Theo," Draco said with that irritating and condescending arrogance. It was nice to see it turned against someone else for once. "I'm happy to take up a collection to pay you to go away. I'm sure your family would appreciate the help."

"Theodore," Theo snapped. "You know I go by Theodore now." His expression twisted with anger and badly hidden hurt.

As if he had the right to be hurt by a nickname or insult after what he'd just been spewing at Harry!

Theo took a deep breath and focused on Draco, ignoring Harry as if that would somehow hurt Harry more. "Don't be stupid, Draco," Theo said. "He's not even a pureblood. You know what our fathers think of him. They're allies, just like we're meant to be. You can't actually be taking Potter's side, can you?"

Sighing and shaking his head, Draco waved his hand around as if presenting the obvious. "Well, duh." Theo's face twisted with anger. "If I had to choose between the two of you," Draco said, "of course I'm choosing Harry. He's a winner. Malfoys always choose winners and we always come out on top."

At that moment the couch that formed the main side of their fortifications, the one Harry and Draco had been hiding behind, shrank to the size of a teacup. Harry's attention left Theo as he wobbled and almost fell. "Watch out!" Harry cried to his friends, whose backs were now exposed.

A spell hit Daphne just as she jumped to her feet, changing her boots into roller skates and making her drop into the splits with a yelp as her feet went out from under her.

A girl with light brown hair falling wildly over her face, hiding her features and making her hard to identify, charged into the breach, kicking the small couch out of her way with a crunch. At the same time, Harry saw Theo cast something from the corner of his eye. There wasn't time for him to attempt another shield spell. Trying to dodge Theo's spell, Harry ran into the legs of the girl, making her trip on top of him.

"Oof!" He felt like a bruised and mushy apple beneath her heavy body and bony knees. A second later he was practically blinded by Theo's spell flying right past his nose. A spell from the opposite side of the room hit the floor in front of his face as something else impacted right above him. Desperately blinking his watering eyes (still stinging from the peach juice and now the bright light) to try and get rid of the floating afterimages, he got his knees under him and heaved the heavy girl off his back so he could breathe enough to speak a spell.

Wheezing, "Expelliarmus!" he blindly aimed at where Theo had last been crouching.

Theo's wand smacked into his fingers before Harry was ready. Harry dropped both wands. Cursing, Harry rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers over the ground until his scrabbling fingers closed around his and Theo's wands. He shoved Theo's wand into his pocket so he wouldn't lose it and kept his ready to cast.

The girl who'd fallen on top of him now had a greenish cast to her skin and was bouncing and ribbiting in place. Harry staggered back, trying to get some distance from her in case she started attacking. Rubbing his swollen eyes, Harry looked again, but she was still green and acting frog-like.

In the corner of his eye, he saw something moving fast. Harry ducked just before Theo managed to clothesline him with an arm to the neck. A jagged fingernail caught on Harry's skin and cut a stinging line of pain along his jaw.

Growling, Harry stabbed his wand forward, digging the point into Theo's side and making the other boy jerk back with a shriek. "Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted. Theo went stiff as a plank and fell to the floor. Harry sighed in relief that it had worked. He'd only managed to successfully cast that one about half the time during practice.

Frog girl hopped up onto Theo's back and started bouncing as she searched through his robes for peach chunks. Or maybe it flies? Either way, Theo wasn't getting out of this one without bruises.

Good.

"Harry, a little help!" Draco called, voice tight with strain.

Harry immediately turned. Two upperclassmen were casting spells at Draco. Draco had a wobbly shield up, but it looked like it was going to fail at any moment. One of the boys was wearing a long green and silver Slytherin scarf. A random spell from out in the room hit him and what looked like orange pumpkin juice started trickling from his left nostril. The boy paused his attacks to look down and cross his eyes, trying to see what was there as he tentatively licked along his upper lip. Eyebrows going up in surprise, he became focused on trying to stick his tongue up his nose.

Expression twisting in disgust, his friend elbowed him. "Stop being gross and help me attack them!"

"But it's pumpkin juice!" He shoved his friend off and licked his lip again.

While they were distracted, Harry levitated the scarf up and wrapped the ends around both attacker's faces, blinding them and making them flail around and knock into each other as they tried to get free.

Draco dropped his shield and, taking a quick breath, waved his wand through the air to transfigure the scarf into a chain. The two boys toppled over onto the ground with a clank of chains and a chorus of shouts, arguing about who was to blame.

"Only partial credit, Mr. Malfoy." Harry clucked his tongue at Draco in a mimicry of McGonagall, unable to resist. "Chains don't have green stripes or a knitted pattern."

"Oh, piss off, Professor Potter," Draco snarked back.

Just as the other boys had finally wiggled free enough to shove the chain scarf off over their heads, the frog girl hopped over on top of them and ground their faces into the ground, aggressively searching their hair for food. Was she being helpful on purpose? Hadn't she been attacking them before? Oh well. Harry would have to remember to thank her later, just in case. Either she'd appreciate him noticing and think better of him for it, or feel embarrassed and ashamed for her out-of-control animalistic actions and back down from bothering him to avoid the reminder—a win for him either way.

A tall girl on his left raised her wand. Harry wasn't sure if she was friend or foe. Too well-trained in Viper school to risk taking the time to figure it out, Harry cast Jelly Legs and sent her wobbling away.

"Ouch!" Harry jerked as something sharp poked him in the back. Turning, he saw a boy whose curly hair had been turned into dozens of pointy-tipped horns. He was running around giggling with his head down trying to ram into and stab people. He bounced past Harry, turned, and charged at Draco.

"Oh no, you don't!" Pansy shouted, popping up out of nowhere to cast a Lip Gloss Charm at Thorn Boy.

Harry mentally scoffed. What good would that do?

Surprised, the boy stumbled and jerked his head to the side as sparkling light went off in his face. As the light faded, scarlet sparkle gloss coated his mouth and ran across half his cheek.

"Yuck, cherry!" Thorn Boy spat, rubbing his hand across his mouth frantically. "You're next, little girl!" he cried, turning to point his finger and pointy hair at Pansy. Pansy cast the spell at him two more times in rapid succession, but this time down at his shoes. He didn't bother even trying to dodge. "Oh, scary~," he sing-songed.

Pansy's glossy red lips curled.

On his next step, Thorn Boy's now coated and glittering scarlet soles lost traction with the floor. His left foot slipped forward while the right slid back and he fell into a split even as he slid forward to land at Pansy's feet with a high-pitched squeak. Tongue poking out of the corner of her grin, Pansy pivoted around him before he lost all his forward momentum, placed her hands on his shoulders, and rammed his head into the side of the nearest chair. His head plowed through the upholstery up to his eyebrows before jolting to a stop as he hit the frame.

"You're right. Red isn't your color," she said with false solicitude over the sound of his groans.

A black-haired girl in a yellow headband slid out of the chaos and pointed her wand at Pansy's back while she was distracted. Draco and Harry simultaneously hit the girl with spells: Draco with a Tarantallegra, forcing her to dance, and Harry with a Cantis, making her sing. The girl twirled away singing the Weird Sisters newest hit at the top of her lungs and Irish dancing.

Thorn Boy was squirming and grunting as he tried to pull his head out of the chair, but all his struggles netted him were a mass of broken strings and torn bits of stuffing. The curved thorns covering his head had caught him fast on the chair's frame.

Looking up at them, Pansy frowned. "Why are you still here and not over there helping Valeria?"

"We were helping you," Draco huffed, ducking a pillow with dragonfly wings as it flew through the crowd. "You're welcome."

"Good idea, though," Harry said. "C'mon, guys, this way!" He turned and started pushing towards the fireplace where the worst of the fighting was taking place.

Before they could go more than a few steps they found themselves surrounded again and, within the space of only a few seconds, disarmed. Millie tried to lunge after her wand as it flew from her grip, only to trip and fall to the floor on her knees. Sneering, an older boy with curly black hair kicked her in the behind, making her sprawl forward on her belly. Laughing, he went to kick her again.

"Don't!" shrieked Daphne as she leaped onto the boy's back and sent him crashing to the floor, arms wrapped around his neck. Harry was shocked and impressed. Before the boy could shake Daphne off, Millie grabbed his ankle and bit down hard, making the boy jerk and howl with pain.

Deciding to follow their example, Harry turned to the nearest body and lunged, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He forgot he still had Theo's wand in his pocket until it was too late to use it. They rolled and Harry's head hit a chair leg hard, right on top of where he already had a bruise, making him bite his tongue and taste blood. Hands battered at his head. Ducking his chin, Harry twisted desperately and channeled Millie, flipping and getting the other boy into a headlock. Eyes squeezed shut and shoulders around his ears, he locked his fingers around his opposite wrist to keep his elbow in place around the boy's neck and clenched until the hands battering at him started to go limp.

"KNOCK IT OFF!" bellowed Flint—a voice Harry would recognize anywhere and had been conditioned to obey instantly.

Harry let go and rolled away, popping up onto his feet only to sway and almost fall down again. He was seeing double. His muscles felt like noodles and his face like mushy peas. Staggering, he looked over to see Flint standing with one meaty fist braced against the archway leading to the first-year dorms.

The Quidditch captain looked as battered as a broken sailboat after a typhoon—face swollen with unsightly lumps and strange colors not natural to bruises, skin cut and scratched, robes torn as if he'd swum in a tank full of piranhas, and hair matted with what looked like blood and tadpole guts. Water dripped from the shreds of his clothing and the ends of his hair. He looked like he should be in a full-body cast in the infirmary, not standing with a vicious look in his eye eager to maim the first person to give him lip.

Without any other warning, Flint snapped up his wand and cast the strongest Aguamenti Harry had ever seen from the tip of his wand, turning it on the room indiscriminately as he moved his wand from side to side. It felt like a firehose as it blasted everyone, including Harry, in ice-cold water. Harry was flung off his feet, choking as he caught a lungful of water.

As soon as the water stopped, Harry pulled himself up and looked around. He could only use one eye, as the other felt swollen and refused to open. Coughing to clear his lungs, he pulled out Theo's wand to defend himself like a proper wizard. He wasn't sure he'd survive another wrestling match. Mille had always been a better grappler. At least he no longer smelled like syrupy peaches or, even better, stale spaghetti sauce. That was something.

The dowsing and looming threat of Flint seemed to have taken the fight out of everyone. Students staggered to their feet, reversing what spells they could, and mumbling awkward apologies. Some slunk out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. Before too many could escape, Flint barked, "Clean this up!"

A few of the older and most dominant students just hunched their shoulders, avoided eye contact, and sped up their escape, but most of the room stopped and unenthusiastically but obediently went to work. They'd already been incredibly lucky to go undiscovered for this long. They needed to clean up as much of the mess as possible to minimize the amount of trouble they'd be in with Professor Snape if he found out.

When he found out. Wincing at the thought—and the pain shooting through his body as he moved—Harry decided to be rebellious and go check on Valeria instead of cleaning. His friends nearby all looked like they were fine if a little worse for wear, so she was the only one unaccounted for as he looked around. Since the fight was over Harry let himself move slowly, though he refused to let this crowd see him limp even though his ankle probably would've appreciated the babying.

As he hobbled around broken furniture and over to the central fireplace—feeling every one of his twelve and three-quarter years of life—Harry rounded a tower made of two couches stacked end on end and almost smacked into Valeria. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking up at the wall about the fireplace with a smile that showed a few too many teeth for comfort. Tensing at his appearance, she looked over, saw it was just him, and relaxed, returning to whatever had her focus.

"What are you up to?" he asked, chest warming at her trust.

"Just cleaning up the rubbish off the floor," she said with a chuckle.

Smiling at her good mood, Harry followed her gaze, only for his mouth to drop open in shock. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Up on the wall above the fireplace hung a daisy chain of figures. They'd probably all be crying and moaning except their mouths were sealed shut with goo. Upside-down and in the middle hung Manic, still looking dog-like with his face a mottled purple-red from either anger, humiliation, or pooling blood (probably a combination of all three). His boneless limbs were still tied into a squishy and nausea-inducing knot. Next to him hung Carmen Reynaldo—glasses stuck to her chin, eyes bloodshot, hair matted, and cheek stuck to one of Manic's floppy leg loops. A boy too coated in goo to identify hung next to her with his elbow wrapped around her calf and someone else's knee stuck to his side. Familiar white and pink goo spattered the group liberally, gluing them to the wall and each other, though there had to be Sticking Charms at work up there too.

Although none of them could speak, it was clear everyone was miserable. Which was good, as Harry didn't like any of them, especially Manic, but he also didn't want any of them to get a stuffy nose, stop breathing, and die either. It was hard to have morals that weren't situationally flexible when you were raised by the Dursleys and sorted into Slytherin, but Harry was giving it his best shot.

When in doubt, he asked himself, "What would Hermione do?" When he got to know her better and realized she was even better than some Slytherins at finding excuses for questionable behaviors, he changed it to, "What would Hermione do if Professor McGonagall was watching?" So far, that seemed to work much better. Right now, she'd probably raise her hand in the air until acknowledged and then ask with a judgemental look and snooty tone of voice, "You made sure they could breathe, right?" Not being Hermione nor desiring to join the people on the wall, Harry asked this question hesitantly and with a tone of respect.

Releasing an explosive sigh, Valeria waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, of course they can breathe. They won't suffer as long as they deserve if they die on me too quickly."

Half-comforted and half-even-more-disturbed, Harry looked back at the students on the wall and wondered just how long Valeria planned to leave them up there to suffer. Looking back at the expression on her face, he gulped and decided not to ask. Even Hermione knew when to pick her battles. Valeria might take a question like that as a challenge.

Repressing a shiver, especially because he didn't want his muscles and face to hurt even more than they already did, Harry stepped up next to Valeria and interrupted her gloating. "Hey, Valeria. Are you alright?" After only a few seconds his back started feeling itchy. He had to shift so his one good eye focused on Valeria and his back was half turned to the wall. Not being able to see very well while so many recent enemies moved around him made him feel like he was about to be ambushed by Dudley, but there wasn't much he could do about that now.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, rubbing a hand over her chest for a second before abruptly dropping it with a scowl as if afraid she'd revealed a weakness. Glancing over at him to see if he bought it, Valeria did a double take, turning her whole body to look Harry up and down. Giving a sigh, eyes going soft, Valeria reached out and touched the corner of his bruised face. "About as fine as you, probably."

"Ah," Harry said with a wry smile. He thought that might be the case.

Valeria's fingers slid down and unexpectedly grabbed Harry's bruised chin in a firm grip, tipping his face up for her inspection. "No, I'm fine," he said desperately, seeing the look on her face. "You don't have to, really—!" He tried to step back, but she tightened her fingers before he could escape. "Ouch!"

"Hold still and don't be such a baby," she said absently as she ran her fingers over his battered face, pressing on the bones in his face and all his bruises, lingering around his swollen-shut eye.

"That hurts!" he complained, though he wasn't crazy enough to actually try to bat her hands away from his face when she was in this mood. She might use her nails as anchor hooks if he did.

"Nothing feels broken to me," she said with a final pat on his cheek before releasing him. "But we should potion you tonight before you go to bed to reduce the swelling and bruising."

"Yeah, thanks," he said sourly, face hurting even more now. "I already planned on that." Frowning, he added insistently, "But you better take care of yourself, too."

Something dark flitted across her face before her expression blanked. Breathing out slowly, she waved a dismissive hand and said curtly, "I don't need anything. I'm fine. I didn't get hurt."

Harry's lips pressed tight, something hot and spiky forming in his chest. He caught her eyes and glared. "Yes, you did."

"No, I—"

"You don't need to pretend with me," Harry said, frustrated and angry. "Manic and his friends surrounded you and were going to do awful things to you. They hurt you."

"None of them hit me," Valeria snapped, crossing her arms. "I'm better than that, better than them."

"Yes, you are," Harry said with emphasis, "but even though none of them touched you with a spell or fist, what happened—isolating you in a crowd, the insults and promise of violence, the lack of safety in the center of our home—that caused you pain and, though I'm just guessing, brought up painful memories."

A muscle in the corner of Valeria's jaw visibly throbbed as she glared at him viciously enough to make him flinch, though he refused to back down. "Look Valeria, it wasn't fair or right. It wasn't!" Harry sucked in a breath and tried to keep his voice down for the sake of her privacy. "You didn't deserve to be hurt and treated like that. You deserve better!" She didn't look like she was getting it. "Because—because you're the best!" Harry said, trying to make her understand that she wasn't alone anymore. That she had him and the Vipers. That she wasn't worthless and that they cared. They cared for her.

One of the upside-down girls on the wall twisted and contorted her body trying to escape, making the strands of goo around her twang with the abrupt stretch and movement. Pulling out a wand from her robe pocket with her chin in a feat of extreme flexibility, she passed it into her hand and canceled the Sticking Charm on her body. Her legs and back became unstuck from the wall and she flipped forward. However, she forgot about the goo gluing her arms to the people on both sides. Her body flipped 180 degrees and slapped back into the wall like a flipped pancake. She bounced, dropping her wand on impact, and slid sideways, landing face-first in Derrick's damp and sweaty armpit, where the goo on her hair stuck her fast. Whimpering, she thrashed for a few seconds, neck straining away from his armpit in a futile attempt to escape the stench. Her face turned puce, then gray just before her eyes fluttered shut and she went limp.

Wincing, Harry wondered, Had she fainted because of the impact or the smell?

Shaking off the thought, Harry turned back to Valeria. He needed to focus and be eloquent to get his idea across. "Look, you may be crazy, but you're my crazy, okay? You're my Valeria. I think you're wonderful and important and I—we," he gestured back to his friends, "all care about you a lot and—and," his tongue felt like a half-transformed slug, utterly incapable of translating the words in his head, "you know," he finished lamely.

He sounded so stupid. Frustrated, Harry fisted his hands, finding it unexpectedly hard to breathe all of a sudden. Theo's stolen wand bit into his palm uncomfortably. Stupid Harry. What was he doing? He needed to go find his wand. He also needed a healing potion for his face, somewhere dark and safe to retreat to, and a long nap.

Valeria stared at him unblinking. A complicated expression moved over her face. Sighing, her lips lifted from a frown into something that might almost be a smile. Shifting to stand in front of him, consequently placing her back to the room for the first time in their conversation, she reached across Harry's body and wrapped her fingers gently around one clenched fist, the one empty of a wand because even now Valeria wouldn't risk handicapping either of them by trapping their wands.

"Okay, Harry. You're mine too. I get it, I think. It's okay." She squeezed his hand, her fingers warm and encompassing. Like a hug. "We're both okay."

"Yeah?" he asked, feeling a bit wobbly.

"Yeah," she said, leaning close, something soft and warm in her eyes just for him—something that said it would burn the world to embers and ash if he got cold and needed it.

Harry was about to respond when they were unexpectedly interrupted.

"Hey," a gravelly voice said.

Jerking away from each other, they both instinctively reacted as if attacked, especially since the unseen voice came from behind Valeria's back and the side where Harry's eye had swollen shut. Harry turned with his wand raised and a hex upon his lips. Valeria, faster and more experienced than Harry, managed to fire a spell mid-turn. Only halfway through his spell, Harry realized that the speaker was Flint.

The older boy must've been expecting their reactions because, without a flicker of fear, he merely leaned to the side like he was avoiding a Quaffle on the Quidditch field, allowing Valeria's spell to shoot by with less than a handspan of clearance. Someone farther back in the room wasn't so lucky, falling over with a gummy-sounding gurgle. Harry didn't pay much attention, too busy trying to stop his wand before it made its final curl through the air. He stopped it just in time, causing the hex to fail.

"Nice reflexes," Flint said approvingly, limping closer and then positioning himself in a protective move between the two of them and the rest of the room, even as battered as he was. They all wanted to protect each other, which is what good friends should do. It felt nice to be so cared for and to have people to care for.

However, they were all rather worse for wear. Valeria's robes were stained with mysterious substances just like the rest of them and her eyes held a troubled, bruised look. Flint was listing to the side as cloudy liquid dripped from his body and pooled beneath his feet. Harry couldn't see himself, but he didn't feel much better. They should all probably sit down soon.

Valeria stepped closer to Flint, looking up at him silently for a weighted moment before her hand shot out and grabbed his chin, yanking him down forcefully and subjecting him to the same thorough examination she'd put Harry through. It looked just as uncomfortable from the outside. "I think you might've cracked something. You shouldn't let people hurt you like this." Valeria scowled, steam practically shooting from her ears. "I don't like it."

"I don't like it either, so leave off," Flint squirmed in her grip, bearing the probing of his battered face with even less grace than Harry. "Seriously, woman," he grumbled, finally succeeding in tugging his face free and straightening his back to his full height.

Taking a single step away, he reached back to touch Valeria's arm, keeping a wary eye on her fingers. "I'm fine." She opened her mouth as if to argue, but Flint added, "What matters is that you're okay. Seriously, I'm fine." He caught her eyes with his, giving her a long, heavy-lidded look, conveying something private to her that Harry couldn't quite read.

Forehead smoothing, Valeria slowly relaxed. Sighing, she moved her eyes up and down his body, pausing at the skin exposed by the gaping holes in his robes. "I suppose you are…," she flicked her eyes up to give him a sly, crooked smile with a hint of teeth before pronouncing with relish, "fine."

Flint blinked rapidly several times. It almost looked like he was turning pink, though it was hard to tell with all of the bruises and swelling. "Good job winning that ambush," she added. "From what little I was able to see, you were…impressive." Valeria inclined her head and looked up at him through her lashes. Flint's cheeks went dark red in what was definitely a full-on blush. It made the bright blue bumps on the corner of his jaw look all the more striking.

Harry rolled his one good eye. Were they really flirting with each other right now? Seriously? They were all injured and covered in tadpole slime and other unmentionable things. People were dangling upside-down on the wall sobbing only a few brooms-lengths away, for Merlin's sake. Harry comforted himself with the thought that at least he wasn't that bad around Hermione. He was way more suave and sophisticated with his affection, the perfect picture of a subtle Slytherin.

Looking up, he caught Draco looking at him derisively, as if reading his mind and calling him out on his delusions. Embarrassed, Harry gulped. Then he realized Draco was gingerly holding a broken lamp while Pansy repaired it and that the look was just jealousy and resentment that Harry had gotten out of tidying up the room with the rest of them. Draco obviously couldn't read his mind. Harry turned away with a flush. Of course, people knew he cared about and felt protective of Hermione. There was nothing wrong with that. He just didn't want to rush things and end up ruining their only recently repaired relationship. He also didn't want to look like an idiot. He would just be patient and careful with his feelings.

Flint started to grin at Valeria, only to stop with a wince as his mangled lips cracked again and started dripping blood over his teeth and down his chin. At this point, Flint's lips were more scab than skin. His clothes were probably also beyond saving considering the stains and tears. Wiping his chin off with the back of his hand, he spat a glob of bloody saliva to the side and then paused to look appreciatively up at the wall of Valeria's enemies. He gave Valeria a warm look. "It seems you were pretty impressive out here too." He looked over at Harry and nodded in approval, making Harry's back straighten with pride. "Both of you." He looked back towards Valeria. "Catch me up on what I missed?" He twirled his fingers at Manic up on the wall and the general destruction.

Glancing around, Valeria snapped her fingers and pointed at two boys who'd just shrunk the couch tower into two pieces the size of skateboards and were taking turns casting spells at them until they finally came unstuck with a loud crack. "Hey, you. Bring a couch over here and resize it for us," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," the closest one said with a squeak, jumping up from where he'd fallen when the two couches had finally separated. Hands trembling, he placed a couch in front of the fireplace, cast the spell to turn it big, and rushed away.

Wand flicking, Valeria repaired the rips in the upholstery, tucked her wand up her sleeve, and put her hand on their shoulders. "Both of you sit down before you fall down." Not giving them the chance to resist, she shoved them at it. Harry dropped into the middle of the couch like a sack of potatoes, but Flint was more stubborn, staying standing despite her shove and looking around as if waiting for something.

Valeria frowned and glanced around too before honing in on someone behind the couch. "Draco," she called curtly. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Draco freeze mid-step with another vase in one hand and his wand raised about to tap it with a repair spell in the other. "What are you doing?" she asked, lip curling.

"Cleaning up as ordered?" Draco said warily, putting the vase down and giving her his full attention.

The corner of Valeria's mouth quirked as her chin lifted. "Losers should do the cleaning."

The corners of Draco's eyes tightened, but he controlled his reaction and didn't respond with an insult or sputtering. Definite growth on his part. That or he was too tired to get offended or risk another beating.

Tilting her head, Valeria hummed and jerked her head. "Come and sit up front while others do the menial work, Draco. You chose the winning side in today's fight."

Draco's eyes went wide and his mouth popped open.

Her brows lowered with temper when he didn't start walking over. "Unless you like cleaning like a house elf?"

Draco jumped and hustled forward. "No, no, I was just caught by surprise." He put on his haughty Lord-of-the-manor look, slowing to a saunter before saying, "I'd be happy to join you up front." He rounded the couch and sat down next to Harry, back straight as an ironing board and not touching the back of the couch despite the slouchy cushions. Draco crossed his legs and flicked imaginary lint from one knee before smoothing back his still-dripping hair. "Thank you for the invitation." He inclined his head toward her.

What a pretentious prat, Harry thought fondly.

Valeria looked around the room again. "Pansy." Pansy came trotting over with an eager look. Valeria sent her a small smile that made Pansy light up like a Lumos Charm. "I saw some of those spells you were casting. You did yourself and the family proud today, unlike some traitorous scum," she glanced sourly over at her male cousin strung up on the wall in a torturously contorted position. Turning back to Pansy, she nodded once. "Well done."

"Thank you, cousin," Pansy said, looking like she might start floating at any second. "Your teaching made a huge difference."

Valeria took the compliment as her due, looking proud and smug as she gestured over the rest of her Vipers. "Come. Join us."

Everyone hurried over, looking pleased to be singled out. Blaise, always the gentleman, summoned a second couch and got Daphne and Millie seated. Pansy tried to sit by Draco, but he shifted into a sprawl, extended his arms, and uncrossed his legs so there wasn't room for her between him and the arm of the couch or him and Harry. "You can sit over there," Draco said with forced nonchalance, nodding at the other couch. "Be a shame to waste Blaise's work."

Pouting, Pansy turned and plopped herself down next to Millie, who patted her consolingly on the back.

Blaise gave Draco a faux admiring look. "Truly, you're so considerate of my feelings, Draco. Your soft heart does you credit." Draco curled up his nose and stuck out his tongue in response before looking away with a flush.

Grinning, Blaise strutted over to Harry and reached into his robe with a flourishing bow, pulling out Harry's lost wand and presenting it on a flat palm.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking his wand with relief and pressing it to his chest. "You're a lifesaver." He carefully tucked his wand into his sleeve holster, wanting it close to hand.

Across the room, Theo was glaring at them. Arching both brows at Theo superciliously (Harry hadn't mastered arching just one yet but he was working on it), he made a show of tucking Theo's stolen wand away in his inner robe pocket, making Theo look apoplectic and about to start shooting steam from his nose and ears. He'd make Theo beg for it back later, maybe promise to owe Harry a favor or something. He'd have to consult with his friends on the best strategy.

"No problem, my friend," Blaise said, returning to the couch with the girls and squeezing into the middle of the group with a well-pleased look. He did always like to be surrounded by the ladies.

Nearby students saw them gathering and moved to stop cleaning and join them by the central fireplace. "No," Valeria snapped harshly, making everyone within the sound of her voice freeze like small rodents confronted by a large predator. "Not you or you," she said with cold disdain and a threatening point of her wand, making even the people not being directly addressed cringe backward. "You haven't proven yourself to me. Back to work." They scurried away, keeping their heads down and finding tasks on the far side of the room as quickly as possible.

Turning back to their group, Valeria opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as a loveseat shot straight towards them like a rushing train only to stop a few feet away with a metallic squeal and then drop to the floor with a grating ppthbbttTUNK that made Harry's bones rattle.

Miles and Terence unexpectedly popped up from behind the couch, arms lifted in the air. "Surprise! It's—" Before they could say more, they were blown off their feet by one of Valeria's spells.

Harry had drawn his wand to defend himself but recognized them before he'd thought what spell to cast and stopped. Valeria was too fast for that and never seemed interested in stopping herself. Startling her right after a fight was just plain stupid. Eyes narrowed, she stood with her back to the wall, chest heaving and wand raised for a second barrage.

"Ouch," Miles whimpered from the floor, head hidden by the loveseat so you could only see his legs twitching. "I surrender."

"Me too," Terence groaned. "That hurt."

Grinding her teeth, Valeria slowly lowered her wand, though it looked like it pained her to do it. "Don't sneak up on me. Not today. Not ever."

"Noted. Never again," Miles said, flopping over so he could crawl around the front of the loveseat, pull himself up, and plop onto the cushion.

"Yeah, sorry," Terence said, joining Miles and sprawling out to take as much space as possible, throwing a foot over Miles's leg until Miles shoved him off. "Stupid idea."

"Guys." Still standing, Flint lifted his chin in greeting. "Good of you to join us." His expression flipped from warm and friendly to arctic. "Listen to the Lady or I'll break whatever she doesn't and sew your lips shut so you have to heal the slow and painful way."

"Definitely noted," Miles said with a shiver. "Lesson learned. No sneaking."

"Yeah, what he said." Terence looked around. The skin around his left eye was turning an interesting shade of purple. "So what did we miss?" He tossed his leg up over the arm of the couch as he spoke, untangling a long strand of seaweed from his shin and tossing it away, almost hitting Draco except he jerked out of the way just in time, almost toppling off the couch in the process.

Draco huffed and pointed his wand to emphasize his words as he spoke. "Manners? A sense of self-preservation?"

Terence shrugged and snapped his fingers, pointing at Draco. "Good reflexes there, mate. Proud to have you as a teammate." Looking both mollified and flattered, Draco sank back into the couch. Harry needed to take lessons from Terrence so he could get that good deflecting Draco's temper and manipulating his mood.

Lips pursed, Valeria sniffed unhappily and gingerly sat down with her back to the armrest where she could watch most of the room and keep her back to the corner. It was the most defensible position, so Harry didn't blame her. He wished he could've sat there, but Valeria had pushed him into this spot in the middle of the couch next to Draco with his back to half of the room. At least he was so short that most of his body was hidden by the couch.

Once Valeria had settled, Flint walked a circle around their couches as if checking the perimeter, touching people as he went, ruffling Millie's hair, softly slapping Miles's arm, and patting Blaise's shoulder. Finishing his circuit, he paused by Valeria for several beats, looking down at her like he had something profound to say. Brows beetling, she looked up at him expectantly. Instead of speaking, Flint abruptly sat down next to her in what looked like a barely controlled collapse.

"You okay over there, mate?" Terrance asked from his sprawl, practically swallowed by pillows and couch cushions. He rolled his head to look at Flint. "That fight was pretty brutal, even for you."

"I'm fine," Flint said, voice faint but unyielding. He glanced away from everyone, his eyes catching on the figures hung up on the wall. "Enough about that. I want to talk about what happened out here." As he turned his head, a pink trail of blood and water sluggishly dripped down from a puffy gash behind his ear. It looked nasty.

The crease between Valeria's brows deepened into a canyon as her eyes drilled into Flint. "Why don't you tell us what and who happened to you first?"

Flint met Valeria's look placidly. She scowled. He slowly blinked twice. She glared harder. "Nothing much happened," he finally said. "I tucked the firsties into bed and got attacked in the hall, that's all."

"I want first and last names so I know who I should be hurting," Valeria demanded fiercely, fist clenching as her lips thinned to a white slash across her dark face.

Flint sent her a small smile. "You're so good to me, but there's no need. I already took care of it," He patted her knee, seemingly unbothered by her aura of murderous rage or the way she immediately slapped his hand away. "Don't worry. They got in a few good hits, I hit back harder, and now they know not to try something like that on me again." He shrugged.

"That's one way to put it," Miles scoffed and pointed a finger. "They'd be maimed for life or worse if we hadn't gotten there when we did to help you out and stop you from a prison term."

Valeria, who had started to relax against Flint, drew back to frown at him again.

Flint turned to Miles with a disturbingly empty smile, his eyes glittering bright and hard. "You talk too much. I didn't ask you to help or to stop me. I was enjoying myself." Violence sparked in the air and Harry dropped his head, trying to be still and small so as not to draw anyone's attention.

"Bruv, I keep telling you, show some restraint!" Terrance exclaimed, breaking the tension as he exaggeratedly waved both arms through the air wildly, almost smacking Miles in the face and knocking several pillows onto the floor. "You're too young and pretty for prison. If not for yourself, do it for me and your girl."

With an exaggerated wince, he looked at Valeria, clasped his hands in front of his chest, and bowed. "Lady. I meant to say 'lady' with the utmost respect and reverence, along with terror and a healthy fear for my life and manhood."

Dropping his hands to slap his thighs (making Harry jump at the sound), Terrance turned back to Flint. "But seriously, I don't want to have to visit you in prison. Dementors probably don't scare Valeria, but they sure as Salazar scare me." He shivered and rubbed his upper arms.

"Now," he clapped his hands (making Harry jolt again) and turned to the couch holding Blaise and the girls, "why don't you guys tell us what we missed out here."

"But I want to know," Valeria said unhappily—

—only to be cut off by Flint. "No."

"I want—"

"No. You don't need to worry about it."

Valeria growled, but there was a hint of hurt and betrayal hidden behind her anger. "If you don't trust me enough to tell me," she said, "I'll—I'll—"

Flint stared at her upset expression for only a moment before deflating. "Okay, but later in private."

"Fine," she spat. "Later, but with details. You promise?"

"I promise," he said begrudgingly, then cocked his head and gave her a penetrating look. "But if I have to talk, so do you. With details."

Valeria wrinkled her nose and looked away, giving a small nod that could've been agreement or merely acknowledgment that she'd heard his request.

Flint sat back with a weary sigh and looked around. "So, Draco, why don't you start."

Looking flattered to be called on first, Draco explained what had happened out in the common room, with many interjections from the rest of them, though none of them went into detail with Flint about the insults against Valeria or her strange reaction to them. Based on her expression when they reached that part of the tale, they all knew well enough to leave those details alone or face her wrath later. Flint mostly responded with frowns and grunts, though he sent Valeria a few long looks that said he'd be following up on some things in private. Recounting the fight turned out to be fun, with Valeria even giving them an approving nod here and there for a clever bit of strategy or spellwork, though she was also free with criticism and scathing advice, as that was her way of showing she cared about their future survival.

When they'd finished their retelling, Valeria drummed her fingers on her crossed legs and gave a beleaguered sigh. "Despite it only being his excuse for a dominance challenge, Manic had one good point. We should tell Slytherin all of the details about Tom's diary and the Chamber so we can put it to rest and move on. There are secrets there that either our parents don't know or they've been lying to us about. "

"You sure?" Harry said, wanting to spitefully hold his secrets close to punish people for attacking them.

Valeria gave him a narrow-eyed look. "Yes, that's why I said it."

"Fine." Slumping, he looked around at who was still around—those students pretending to look busy but not really doing anything versus those actually fixing stuff. He supposed he didn't really despise anyone left in here except for maybe Theo based on his recent actions and the people up on the wall. Then again, they deserved to have their assumptions shattered. Nevertheless, Harry was tired and would rather put the probably painful and exhausting retelling off. "Does it have to be now?"

Flowing up onto her feet, Valeria put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. The sound made Harry's head hurt. Everyone froze. "Finish up quickly and gather around. If you're not stupid, Harry's going to tell you about what really happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Don't make us regret this." She cast a dark look around while fingering her wand.

A brave soul cleared their throat. "Should we go get the people who left?"

Valeria arched one brow at them. "Do they deserve that?"

A few people exchanged glances, but no one ended up leaving, at least not obviously. The last few repairs were made quickly and soon the room was (mostly) put back to rights.

In the bustle Dulcina showed up with a partially used box of healing potions. "This is all I could find. Someone already raided most of the stashes across the House, probably those cowards who left first," she said sourly. "We'll have to split what's left."

"Cheers," Harry said, tapping vials with Blaise before downing his small portion of healing potion. Harry was grateful to have anything. Back home he had to live with his injuries for weeks. Here, within minutes of drinking the potion the swelling on his face went down and he could see out of both eyes again and talk without slurring. His body barely even hurt anymore, though the potion didn't help his exhaustion. In fact, without the sharp pain everytime he moved, he felt even closer to nodding off.

Flint still looked like a train wreck, but he'd also insisted on waiting for everyone else to get some until most of the vials were down to dregs, and only then because Valeria knocked him down with a kick behind the knee and sat on him with a vicious glare until he drank the last quarter vial.

Harry was ready for bed, but one look at Valeria let him know she wouldn't be satisfied until he talked and put this issue to bed first. Running hands through his hair, Harry tried to smooth down the crazy cowlicks and look somewhat presentable for his speech. As ready as he could be, he stood up and cleared his throat.

"This is the truth about what I saw and experienced in the Chamber of Secrets," he began, telling the surrounding Slytherins all the things he hadn't felt comfortable sharing widely with the press and student body, going into detail about Ginny Weasley, Moaning Myrtle, Tom Riddle's diary and his revelations (which caused a huge commotion that Valeria and Flint both had to start shouting and casting hexes to get people to shut up enough to listen to the rest of it), Valeria's awesome casting, and how they'd killed the Basilisk and destroyed Tom's diary, making sure to emphasize how awesome and helpful Hermione had been while obscuring their private conversation and any of his or her potential vulnerabilities. They didn't need to know those secrets. He decided not to mention the scene in the Headmaster's office or the hallway afterward with Mr. Malfoy and Dobby either, not wanting to burn any bridges with Draco or distract people from the core issues.

Valeria gave him a few sharp looks, but didn't correct him on anything to do with Hermione, though she did on several other early points. Perhaps Valeria didn't know, since she'd been unconscious by the end of it, though she might've guessed some things, as she'd been in the infirmary with them after and might've seen more than she let on. Harry couldn't be sure. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Valeria and what she might know or have figured out.

Since Blaise was Harry's best friend, he was one of the few people who'd heard most of this before. Harry had needed someone to talk to and Blaise was the most trustworthy when it came to things like this. Everyone else had only known that they'd killed the Basilisk with the flag and rescued Weasley, Hermione, and Halle. The crowd seemed shocked by his revelations, reacting particularly strongly to Tom's diary, his control of the Basilisk, and Weasley's role as assistant, pawn, and victim.

The Headmaster had seemed pleased by Harry's public reticence about the events. Perhaps a love for secrecy and knowing more than others or perhaps something else, Harry wasn't sure. He should probably worry about Dumbledore's reaction to Harry spilling the story to so many students now, but he was too tired to worry about it anymore.

In the ringing silence that followed Harry's story, Blaise stood up and clasped his hands behind his back, looking around with an unusually serious expression. "When I first heard this story, I too was shocked. Harry's my friend, but I'm also a Slytherin. Trust, but verify." He began pacing. "I did some digging and have confirmed what I can of his story. Tom Riddle is real." Audible gasps filled the room.

Blaise let that sit for a second, pacing to stand in front of the still dark fireplace. The Snake Sisters had come out of hiding on their screen and were watching the proceedings curiously. "Tom Riddle was a half-blood orphan from the Gaunt line," Blaise said. "He became Head Boy of Hogwarts about fifty years ago. He was here when Myrtle Warren was killed by the monster from the Chamber of Secrets and became the ghost we knew as Moaning Myrtle. Records and those portraits who remember Tom Riddle paint him as silver-tongued and charismatic, with multiple school awards to his name. Despite receiving what one portrait described as an unprecedented number of job offers upon graduation, Riddle disappeared completely from all records just a few years later, coincidentally just before the Dark Lord," he paused and cleared his throat, "before Lord Voldemort burst onto the scene."

The room broke into furious shrieks and terrified groans at Blaise uttering that name out loud. More than half of the students dived under tables and beneath pillows to hide. The rest jumped to their feet, glancing at the corners and ceiling in fear as if expecting a punishing attack at any second. When nothing happened, they slowly sat back down or came out of hiding, though most of the room had their wands clenched in shaking hands.

"You're going to get us all killed," snapped a seventh-year girl, the edges of her eyes showing too much white as her jittering eyes jumped between the shadowed corners and doorways.

"Don't you know you can't—you shouldn't say that?" whimpered Macy McGuire. Adriana Ploward was awkwardly crouched under a nearby end table with her eyes barely peeking out between her hands. They must've gotten back from being treated in the infirmary for Valeria's hexes just in time to catch the brawl, or at least Harry's story. Both of them still looked a little rough, with hair still seaweed-y and patches of skin looking bumpy and shell-like. "You'll be punished for saying it. He'll curse you! Everyone knows that," Macy said, wringing her hands.

Swallowing hard and looking pale, Blaise's shoulders tightened and his fingers started shaking. Licking his lips, he shoved his hands into his pockets hard and lifted his chin with a deep breath, exhaling hard. "I know what they say, but Harry's story fits the facts. The diary's story fits. The anagram of the name fits. Tom Marvolo Riddle was a brilliant half-blood who used all of his Slytherin ambition and cunning to reinvent himself into a pureblood named Lord Voldemort—" his voice trembled slightly as he said the name again, though that was mostly drowned out by the screams, shouts, and thumps as people ducked under tables to hide again— "and consequently almost succeeded in taking over the wizarding world."

"Until he tried to kill Harry as a baby," Valeria said fiercely.

Blaise inclined his head. "Until he tried to kill Harry."

"Tried," Harry emphasized, fisting his hands on his knees as a heavy pressure in his chest fought to get out. "He tried and failed."

"No, you're all lying, especially Harry!" cried out Theo, jumping up in the back of the room where he'd been lurking. His fisted hands shook at his sides and his face was bright red. "That's impossible. The Dark Lord can't be a half-blood. He can't!"

"But how do we really know?" Millie asked in a loud whisper, wringing her hands as she looked around as if lost.

"He's a pureblood like us! He fought to preserve our traditions against muggle-loving traitors!" Theo cried stubbornly. "You know that. We all know that!" He looked around wildly for support.

"Yeah, that's what my parents told me, too," Adriana Ploward said, voice wavering as she came out of her hiding place.

"I'm going to tell my parents about this conversation," said Macy McGuire, grabbing Adriana's hand.

"Good, you do that," Harry snapped back. "Maybe they'll learn something."

"Now listen here," Adriana said, only to go white and drop like a puppet with her strings cut, pulling Macy down with her, when Valeria sent them a dark look.

"Nevermind!" Macy squeaked, scrambling back under the table to hide.

Lips quirking, Valeria looked away dismissively. "We should tell our parents about this. We should start asking questions. Did the Dark Lord really fight for our traditions? Or did he just tell our parents what they wanted to hear to get their power and money on his side?" Valeria arched one eyebrow. "If we look at his actions, he's always followed expediency more than ideology, yet he twisted the messaging to suit each group and evolving situation and kept everyone terrified and guessing so that no one ever called him on it." She paused, looking thoughtful. "In that sense, he was a strategic genius. We could learn a lot from that." She nodded approvingly.

Harry shot to his feet, not interested in any discussion praising Voldemort—the bane of his existence. "Voldemort's real name was Tom Riddle," Harry said, ignoring the shrieks and just raising his voice to make sure he was being heard. "He lied and manipulated as easily as breathing, caring only about himself. And," he took a quick breath, "although I think blood status is useless, impossible to test, and artificial, by most of your traditions and definitions he would be considered a half-blood, not a pure blood, if that matters to you. That is the truth. I swear it."

Harry was looking up at Hot Medusa for encouragement, so he noticed the second that Reyansh unexpectedly appeared leaning against the wall beneath Aglaia the Unforgiving's tapestry as if he'd just canceled a Disillusionment Charm. "Is it really? Are you sure?" he asked, pushing off from the wall. The crowd between them melted out of his way as he strode forward until he paused just behind the loveseat Terrence and Miles had placed in front of the central fireplace. Harry hadn't realized that the Prefect had come back, or perhaps he had never left, just hidden himself.

Eyes locked on Harry in challenge, Ahuja pointed at him. "If what you've told us really is true, swear it with your magic on your magic," he said, emphasizing his final words with a stabbing finger. The fabric of his robe flared with each movement, making Harry aware that the older boy had found a way to neutralize Harry's Starching charm.

Pansy gasped and shot to her feet, grabbing Harry's wrist, her nails digging in as she pulled him back. "Don't!"

Hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, Millie leaned forward and loudly whispered, "It's ancient magic. If you're lying at all, or even just twisting the truth a little, you'll lose your ability to do magic! Forever!"

"Harry," Draco touched Harry's other arm, voice shaking in fear and warning. "You don't have to—" Behind him, even Blaise looked worried.

Scowling, Harry roughly shook Pansy and Draco's hands off, the pressure in his chest feeling volcanic. How dare they all doubt him, even his friends? He didn't stop to think if omitting details about Hermione and himself counted as lying to the spell, or if he'd embellished anything while talking to make it go over better with this crowd. He was too mad for that.

Stomping past Blaise and out of the circle of furniture, he pivoted on his heel to glare across at Ahuja. A small voice in his head—sounding like Hermione—warned Harry to cool down for a second and carefully construct the words he wanted to vow in his head before speaking them out loud and potentially damning himself for life, but the lava in his chest was rising too fast. Harry was burning too hot for logic and couldn't wait to prove himself, not even for a second.

Harry lifted his wand and pushed with his magic, feeling it erupt from his mouth in a scalding rush of words. "I am not lying! Everything I told you about what I heard and saw in the Chamber of Secrets and about Tom Riddle is true. I swear it on my magic!" The heat in his chest flared white hot and then snuffed out, leaving him feeling chilled.

The room was silent. Dripping water was the only sound. Everyone watched Harry to see what would happen next, especially his so-called friends. Goosebumps spread across his skin and Harry suddenly felt ill and lightheaded. Had he screwed up? What if he'd just lost everything that made his life worth living?

"Cast a spell, Harry," Valeria said, voice shattering the silence. She sounded impatient and bored. "Show the sheep that your magic is still there so we can move on and finally get to bed."

At least one person believed in him. Harry could do a lot with one person by his side. When that person was Valeria, he had a better than even chance of setting the world on fire.

Baring his teeth, Harry pointed his wand at the dark fireplace and snapped, "Incendio!" A warm and bright jet of fire burst from the tip of Harry's wand with a triumphant roar, rushing through the gaps in the metal fireplace screen, over the Snake Sisters, and into the hearth, making the logs burst into flames with loud crackles and snaps. Cutting his wand to the side to end the spell, Harry glared around the room with challenge, ending with Reyansh, who looked shaken and like he was rapidly recalculating all his strategies.

"Lies! He—he somehow tricked the spell," Theo said, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up on one side. "He tricked it, tricked all of us…."

Reyansh shook his head sharply. "You can't trick that spell. It's one of the oldest and purest vows we have."

"No," Theo said stubbornly. "He's lying. The Dark Lord was a pureblood. My parents said so. Harry has to be lying."

Harry glared at his roommate and once-friend. "Wake up and think for yourself, moron. Tom Riddle is a dirty rotten liar who used your pureblood parents and their agenda to seize power for himself. Given the chance, he'd promise you the world and then use you up and throw you away just like Tom's diary tried with little pureblood Ginny Weasley. He was going to kill her to bring himself back and being a pureblood had nothing to do with it. Blood status doesn't make you better and it doesn't protect you—that's just money and influence dressed up in fancy robes. It's a pack of lies and Tom is the biggest liar of them all. Don't accept his lies. Be better!"

The room echoed with the weight of Harry's words. Most of his fellow Slytherins looked to be wrestling with the fact that Harry was probably telling the truth no matter how hard it was to swallow. Many people were obviously having a hard time swallowing.

"So the Dark Lord was lying?" Pansy asked tentatively.

"He was lying," Blaise said, meeting Harry's eyes in support and apology. He laid a hand on Pansy's shoulder and patted her soothingly before pulling her down with him onto the couch next to Millie.

"He was lying," Harry repeated.

"Oh," Daphne said faintly, head down as she rubbed her legs nervously. "Oh dear."

Shifting on his seat, Draco chewed on his lip as he looked between Blaise and Harry before seeming to come to a decision. "Okay, so… the Dark Lo—I mean, Vol—" he flinched, unable to finish the for so long forbidden name. "Tom," he finally settled upon. "Tom l-lied." Draco looked resolute and yet stuttered as if saying the words physically pained him. Everyone knew Draco's father had been one of Voldemort's top Lieutenants, so his comment and support of the idea sent a new wave of shock through the room, even with Draco sitting up front with the rest of them and Harry's magical oath. Everyone started speaking at once, filling the room with noise.

"Oh, get over it, people," Valeria said loudly with a scathing look around that made the room hush again. "Everyone lies to get power. Everyone cheats. Parents, Professors, the Government, and Voldemort most of all." The room squeaked and flinched at the use of that name again. "Don't trust Tom's lies, whether from his mouth or through the voice of your parents. Don't let them use you only to throw you away like dirty tissue when they're done. Don't let anyone do that to you. Be better than your parents and the other adults in your life. Don't repeat their mistakes. Be cunning and show some ambition. Forge your own destiny, one to be proud of."

Pansy raised a trembling hand into the air like this was class.

Valeria nodded at her impatiently. "Yes?"

"Some say," Pansy cast a quick look at Harry and then away, "that he's not really gone. That he isn't really dead—the older He-who-must-not-be-named—not this young diary version of Tom. Is that true, Harry? You're the only one who knows who might actually tell us the truth." The room went silent as a tomb as the whispered arguments around the room snuffed out. Everyone leaned forward to hear his answer.

Still standing, Harry crossed his arms behind his back and clenched his fingers around one wrist, squeezing hard enough to make his hand tingle and go numb so none of the fear escaped into his voice. "At the end of my first year, I saw and spoke to Voldemort's spirit when it was possessing Professor Quirrell. I drove him out somehow with the protections my mother left in me from her sacrifice, but I don't think he's given up on returning. I think Professor Dumbledore thinks that too."

"That's crazy. He can't be coming back! How do we know you weren't just young and confused?" called a shaky voice.

Flint stood up and moved to stand next to Harry. "I believe in Harry," Flint said, clapping him on the back and making Harry feel ten feet tall and like he could fly without a broom.

Eyes gleaming as she glanced between them, Valeria joined them. "I do too." She cast a challenging look around the room.

"But what does that mean for the rest of us Slytherins? Some of us can't risk going against our parents, so in the end, does this really change anything?" asked a plaintive voice.

Several people tried to answer at once and the room got noisy as arguments broke out.

"I will be no man's slave," Reyansh announced, instantly gathering the crowd's attention. "Tom Riddle's spirit may not be gone yet, but he's old and weak, nowhere near the power he once was and relying on others like Professor Quirrel to do his work, just like Tom with little Ginny Weasley. He uses lies and misdirection to trick and steal power from people like our families." Pausing, he looked around the room with calculation in his eyes. "Don't fall for it. You can do better. You deserve better." Smiling faintly, his eyes paused on Harry for a moment before drifting away again. "We all deserve better. We need to put our Slytherin cunning to use if we don't want to be lied to by adults and manipulated for their gain. Everyone lies to get power." He inclined his head to Valeria without lowering his eyes, an acknowledgment of her words but not so deep a nod as to indicate submission.

Clearing her throat tentatively, Millie said, "I've always been confused about how I was taught to look down on everyone who isn't a pureblood or who acts different than us, contrasted with how The Dark Lord allied with and promised status and power to werewolves, vampires, giants, and other creatures. I was told he was just lying to the creatures and using them to win and they were too stupid to realize it. It makes a lot more sense though if he was lying to and manipulating us both for his own gain."

"Just like he promised status and power to the old families who value their pure bloodlines," Draco said, looking pale but resigned. He swallowed hard and said, "The attacks here at school didn't have anything to do with a pureblood agenda." Harry did a double take, chest warming at hearing Draco finally acknowledge it. "They were just a way for Tom to manipulate things in his favor to revive his spirit and secure a new power base among us. There is no way to know if someone is a pureblood or not unless you research family lines and give them that label."

Draco sucked in a breath and ducked his head. "So many were promised more power if they followed the Dark Lord, but so many ended up with less. Less power, smaller families because of death and incarceration, fewer magical children, bad reputations, diminished influence in the Ministry and at Hogwarts, the list goes on and on. Our families weren't wrong to want what they did, but….."

"But," Pansy said quietly, nodding in agreement with Draco. "Plus, we're told he was this terrifying and untouchable Dark Lord, yet he was killed by either a baby," she looked at Harry with skepticism and put out a hand as if weighing a balance, "or a twenty-year-old, sleep-deprived mother with no servants or house elves to help run her home who'd been raised as a muggle for half her life." She held out her other hand and shifted them up and down before dropping them and shaking her head sharply. "If you really think about it, the story we've been fed our whole lives doesn't make sense." She looked at Harry. "Not until now. Tom Riddle just may be the clue that finally breaks the myth and makes it all make sense."

"Yet we're told that we're weak and stupid, to stop asking so many questions and just obey our elders," Millie said tartly. "That they know best."

Sticking out his chin, lips pressed thin and eyes hard, Draco nodded. "They tell us we're weak because they know we could be strong. We're strong and they're afraid of what we can do that they couldn't."

"You're all blood traitors and full of rubbish," Theo said mutinously. "Mudbloods and creatures are weak and deserve to get used. Purebloods are strong and should rule. The magic of generations of wizards flowing in our blood makes us special."

"Special, huh?" Harry scoffed and stared Theo down. "Did pure blood protect Ginny Weasley from being used as a pawn all year and her soul almost drained from her body for a dark ritual? Did being a half-blood protect Halle Harper from petrification? Or pureblooded Myrtle Warren from death?" Harry demanded.

Mouth tight, Theo had no response to that.

"Harry brings up a good point," said Valeria with a crinkle between her brows. "Voldemort doesn't respect witches." The topic shift made many look at her like she was crazy. "No, think about it." She looked around, making eye contact with many of the girls in the room. "All of his marked Death Eaters and all of his lieutenants, the ones with actual power in his organization, were men."

"There was Bellatrix Lestrange," Artemis said from where she stood leaning next to Dulcina against the wall.

Dulcina turned her head to look at her and wagged her hand back and forth ambivalently. "Bellatrix was high up in the ranks, but the rumors were that as soon as she joined, she started warming her master's bed instead of her husband's and that's the only reason why she was allowed at any of the important meetings. When he wasn't around, the only people who'd listen to her were the young, fresh recruits, not any of the other Lieutenants."

"Ew, gross. So the only witch with standing in his ranks had to use sex and oathbreaking to get it?" Artemis wrinkled her nose. "And wasn't he, like, more than twice her age when this happened?"

Mouth pursed, Dulcina nodded and shuddered. "Maybe even three times her age. So gross."

Valeria shook her head and scowled. "If the Dark Lord comes back and we let him take power, is that going to be the role of witches in his ranks? Invisible and treated as less than men no matter our talents? Sent out as canon fodder on poorly planned raids where we have no say? Expected to sleep with men who aren't our husbands? Given as prizes to warm the beds of his favorites?" Her voice became more shrill with every question.

"I'm going to be sick," Millie whispered to Pansy.

"Yuck," Artemis said. "There has to be another option."

"Even if we broke him out of whatever prison he's stashed in, I don't think Grindelwald would be much better. Why aren't there ever any great Dark Ladies to follow, only sexist Dark Lords?" Dulcina lamented.

"Good point," Valeria said, smacking her fist into her palm. "I'll have to think about the Dark Lady thing if being a Hogwarts Professor doesn't work out after graduation." Head tilting, Valeria looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip, not noticing how everyone shrank back from her in horror.

"I could probably be convinced to become one of your Lieutenants," Harry said, scratching his chin. "You'd definitely be better than Voldemort and I'm not too impressed with our current Minister for Magic either."

Eyes wide, Pansy started poking and pinching at her seatmates urgently until Mille slapped her hands away, nodded grimly, and sat up with a deep breath. "That's silly, Harry. Valeria will be a great professor!" The fake, grimacing smile Millie gave was thankfully lost on Valeria, as she was too busy tapping her chin and looking off into the distance.

Blaise sat forward and smiled charmingly and much more convincingly. "Yes, good point, Mille. Although I'm sure she'd be a magnificent Dark Lady, the path to the top is full of unpleasant work and drudgery," he said regretfully. "It would require extreme patience and constantly dealing with people who think they should be in charge instead, as opposed to students conditioned to follow and respect a Professor." His words made a frown slowly form on Valeria's face.

"I'm sure you could do it, but do you really want to exercise that much restraint for years on end and constantly have to explain yourself to needy minions who you can't torture too much because they're funding your terrorist campaign?" Blaise asked leadingly as behind her back Terrance and Miles gave him enthusiastic thumbs up. "Until you're well established in tyranny and have a solid financial nest egg, you'd have to pretend to be nice to people and listen to them go on about their wants and needs as if you actually care about their little lives and dramas."

Pursing her lips, Valeria sighed through her nose. "That part does sound remarkably unappealing, I suppose."

"Hogwarts needs a professor like you, Valeria," Blaise said, eyes big and earnest.

"I agree," Pansy said, nodding repeatedly. "With your guidance, Slytherin could only become smarter and more successful. Future students need you. You'll be great!"

"You would definitely change Hogwarts for the better," Harry said, really meaning it, even if his friends were a little over the top in their performance. "Maybe you could even be Headmistress one day."

"Everyone should go to bed now," Flint announced abruptly. "Obviously Valeria will succeed in whatever she chooses to pursue, but until then, we should all focus on getting ready to destroy Hufflepuff in the upcoming Quidditch match." The mood shifted. No one had an argument with that logic. "Gryffindor's been strutting around the castle acting a bit too uppity. Ravenclaw's been coming down on Hufflepuff's side more often than not lately too, so everyone needs a good lesson about Slytherin superiority. I'm sure I can count on everyone's support with that."

Cheers met Flint's words. That was a much more popular thing to support.

Faces sporting bloodthirsty smiles instead of dread and panic, everyone quickly dispersed to their rooms.

Glancing over his shoulder at the mostly empty common room, Harry found his eyes drawn up to where Manic and his friends were still stuck to the wall like bugs on flypaper. They all seemed to be breathing fine as the goo around their heads started dissolving and dripping off in long, snotty strands. It didn't look comfortable, but it was no longer life-threatening.

"You coming?" Blaise asked, clapping Harry on the shoulder and jolting him from his thoughts.

"Sure." Harry yawned, scratched his belly, and turned away, leaving the room side-by-side with his friends. Valeria's spells would eventually fail and free them sometime in the early morning hours. They'd be fine until then and learn a valuable lesson in humility in the process. Everyone had learned something valuable today, Harry included.