Zander stormed down the many halls and corridors of the castle.

Marching with a pep in his step, and showing extra caution whenever he heard any vices nearby—he continued ducking behind walls and vanishing around corners, taking the longer route to the Slytherin common room and speeding his pace even more.

Then, he found himself walking down another wide hall, torches lit on either side, and the faint, distant echo of wailing was slowly growing on the night air.

Zander marched on, slowing his pace and glancing around, his eyes landing on the girls' lavatory, which was just a short ways father.

Then, a pack of girls suddenly emerged from down the hall, giggling loudly and trading conversation, not seeming to care that they were out after hours. They all had Slytherin patches and colors on their robes, and they fell silent when they spotted Zander standing opposite them.

"Oy," Zander called, only just recognizing the girls. "Have you seen Mary-Lynn?"

The three girls—once Mary-Lynn's friends—traded looks with each other, all of them snickering faintly.

"Yeah—she ran off in there," the bushy-haired girl informed, pointing at the lavatory. "When we first came through, we thought it would be nice if someone told her she looked like an albino raven with the flu—which she does, with that hairdo and that sickly pale skin—then she ran off into the bathroom and started crying again. Haha, loser!"

The girls all giggled snidely with one another before turning and wandering down the opposite end of the hall.

Zander sighed, turning to the lavatory and staring at it.

It seemed he wouldn't have to go all the way back to Slytherin house to confront her—but he'd never breached a girl's bathroom before.

Inhaling again and bracing himself, Zander slowly drew his wand and placed his hand to the door—but just when he did, a ghostly white face appeared directly in front of his, fazing through the door and staring back at him from behind what appeared to be a pair of old, round glasses.

"She's not the one crying," Moaning Myrtle informed him. "It's only me. It's always me…"

Zander hesitated, giving the ghost an inquisitive look. "Is she in there?"

Myrtle nodded mildly. "Just waiting…"

"Waiting?" Zander asked. "For what?"

Myrtle's eyes seemed to shift up and down the halls. "To make sure… that nobody comes in after her… before she goes down below."

"Down below," Zander mumbled, pondering on this. "What do you mean, down…?"

He trailed off, the answer coming to him seconds later.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Zander uttered. "Why's she going down to the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I don't know," Myrtle griped, sounding suddenly defensive. "No one ever wants to talk about me, do they? It's always about all the other girls…"

"Look, I'm sorry—but this is important," Zander said. "Did she come here earlier today? Around the afternoon? During class time?"

Myrtle nodded again. "She doesn't come often… but when she does, she… talks to me…"

Zander hesitated, his heart pounding and his mind racing up a storm.

Then, an idea struck him, and he continued.

"I'll talk to you," he offered. "I'll come back here, and I'll spend a whole day just talking to you and listening to you—okay?"

Myrtle's eyes began to light up. Then, she reeled slightly back, sinking further into the door and giving him a doubtful sort of squint.

"Why?" she said skeptically. "What do you want…?"

"Just a favor," Zander said exasperatedly. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important—but I need you to fly about the castle. Find the other ghosts and tell them all to find the headmaster."

Myrtle stared at him strangely.

"No—not just the headmaster," Zander corrected himself. "All the teachers. Crowley, and Arius, and everyone else they can find—get them all down to the Chamber of Secrets, and tell them it's an emergency. Make sure they know that a student's in danger down there. Can you do that?"

Myrtle kept staring at him, seeming hesitant.

"It really is an emergency," Zander told her urgently. "And I really will—I'll spend all the time with you that you like. I'll even bring my friends. We'll all just come and hang out with you—but this needs to get done right now."

Myrtle sighed, her eyes drifting down to the Slytherin patch on his chest.

"Why should I trust you?" she murmured doubtfully. "You're the type to lie…"

"Oh, don't give me that—you don't even know me," Zander told her. "And I wouldn't be trying to hunt down a dark wizard and rescue the school right now if I was such a rotten person, now would I?"

Myrtle's eyes narrowed at him. "That's what you're trying to do…?"

"Yes, dammit—can you help me or not?!" Zander barked impatiently.

Myrtle took back, hesitating for a moment before she managed a meek little nod.

Then, she ascended toward the high ceiling and dissipated.

Zander gazed upward, then faced the door again, clutching his wand tighter and pushing it open.

"Cruc—"

"Expelliarmus!"

The second the girl's voice met his ears—Zander fired off a spell, sending Mary-Lynn's wand flying from her grasp just when the creaky wooden door eased shut.

There was a long, deep pause between the two—Mary-Lynn standing in the spacious bathroom, now unarmed, Zander blocking her only exit and holding her firmly at wandpoint.

Mary-Lynn's expression fell cold, stony and unreadable, not at all watery or dramatic as it had been earlier in the day.

"Well… that was clever," she grumbled.

"I thought you would've heard me talking outside the door. Of course you'd be expecting me," Zander told her, taking a step closer. "Standing in the lavatory and aiming your wand at the door, waiting for the second I came in… attacking me like I'm the one doing something wrong."

"I'm not doing anything wrong," Mary-Lynn snarled, cocking her head at him and flinging her dark bangs aside. "I'm a girl inside a girl's lavatory. Take a wild guess what I'm doing in here, smart guy. It's really not that hard to figure out."

"Aha… well, as much as I'd like to believe that gross little story… no," Zander said, moving steadily nearer. "Do you always react so violently when someone else walks into the bathroom? Shooting off an illegal torture spell is a bit of an overreaction. Unless you were doing something more sinister in here… something you really didn't want me to see."

Mary-Lynn stood rooted to the spot, her arms tightly folded and her wand lying in front of the stalls several yards away.

Zander took another step, surveying her intently before his eyes drifted over to the rounded sink fixture, then landed back on her.

"Not many people can open the Chamber of Secrets," he knew. "You're a parseltongue."

Mary-Lynn wore a distant pouting sort of visage, poking out her mouth. "Tch. I have no idea what you're talking ab—"

POP.

Zander jutted his wand out and sent a blast of red sparks into her leg. They made a tiny explosion—making her gasp sharply and scramble away, pressing her back to the wall and staring at him in alarm.

"I did try to bury the hatchet, y'know. I really… really did," Zander rumbled, treading even closer. "But you nearly killed my best friend. You tried to hit me with the cruciatus curse. And now… here you are, smuggling dark wizards into the castle and having the ungodly nerve to play dumb to me about it. So don't insult me… don't test me… and don't, for a bloody second, think that you're capable of playing games with me."

He stopped only a foot away—raising his wand and making her flinch, holding it barely an inch away from her nose.

"Tell—me—the truth," Zander said in a slow, clear voice, his eyes burning into hers. "Where is Valefor now?"

Mary-Lynn was silent for several tense seconds, trying to maintain her cold glare and only halfway succeeding, her hands beginning to tremble.

"H-how did you know?" she breathed in a faint, shaky whisper.

Zander perked his brow at her. "How did I know? Who else could it have been? Your parents brought you a mysterious suitcase in the middle of exam season, when no parents ever bother to visit Hogwarts—and it was a suitcase equipped with an extension charm inside. That's what you told me, right? You could fit anything inside that case. Even a lone nutter of a dark wizard."

"Th-that was for my broomstick," Mary-Lynn stuttered weakly.

"Really." Zander's voice fell flat, as well as his expression, gently tilting his head as his eyes narrowed into slits. "And your little woe-is-me act in Defense Against the Dark Arts—you ran off at a real convenient time, didn't you? In the middle of class, when nobody else would be around here, and nobody would see you carry that suitcase into the Chamber of Secrets. Perfect place to release a dark wizard, isn't it? The only part of the castle where no one ever goes."

The two of them stared into one another for a long, quiet moment.

Then, Mary-Lynn's shoulders seemed to sink, sighing and gently shaking her head at him.

"You really are brilliant," she murmured. "Such a pity that you waste it on people who aren't worth the effort at all."

"Tell me where Valefor is," Zander demanded, looming over her. "Now."

There was another deep, tense pause between the two.

Mary-Lynn was gazing into him rather thoughtfully now.

"I wish you knew what Xyler and the Seal of Shadows were really all about, Zander," she told him softly. "My parents brought me into it… and it was the only thing they ever pushed me into that I actually really liked. Wizard unity. Wizard unity against any and all forms of oppression, muggle and magic alike. That's something I would think you'd get on board with."

"Yeah… nice thought," Zander griped. "Unfortunately, those kind of things always go bad, because the people leading them tend to be psychotic. So… no thanks. Just tell me where he is. Stop wasting my time."

"You, ah… you did overlook one part," Mary-Lynn informed, raising a finger and managing a half-smile. "The part where I opened the suitcase near the headmaster's office this morning, and I let him swipe the sorting hat himself. It would've been easier if I just got it for him, but he insisted. He really thinks he's supposed to have it."

"Ah-huh—that's because he's a nutter, and he thinks he's going to draw the Swords of Salazar when no other Slytherin ever could for hundreds of years," Zander told her. "So where is he now? I know you released him in the chamber—but where did he go from there?"

"Nowhere," Mary-Lynn said simply, making a little shrug. "He's still there."

Zander withdrew, glancing over at the rounded sink fixture, then back at her. "Open it."

Mary-Lynn wore a caustic smirk now, raising her brows and shaking her head. "No."

Zander gulped toughly, his teeth beginning to grind. "Open it."

"No," Mary-Lynn shot back. "Xyler will trust me after this—and he'll trust my parents, too. I won't betray them. I won't."

Zander rolled his neck, feeling utterly frustrated. His eyes flickered back over to her, sparkling in a predatory way.

"What did I tell you," he hissed. "About crossing another line with me?"

"Oh—get over yourself. It's not about you."

"It's about everyone—including the entirety of Hogwarts. So—yea—that makes it about me, too. And I told you—I warned you—not to ever cross a line with me again!"

"So what?" Mary-Lynn said vacantly, shrugging again and cocking her brow challengingly at him. "You're not gonna do anything. You'll throw a fit, and toss spells around, and play your little mind games to scare me—but you're not gonna hurt me for real."

"Oh my God, you little moron—listen to me," Zander growled, rounding on her. "In the off chance that Valefor actually does manage to get the Swords of Salazar—d'you think he's gonna accept that little victory quietly? That lunatic would go on a bloody rampage, killing everyone in his path just to celebrate! He—needs—to—be—stopped! Now!"

"I know he's crazy—but he has an actual agenda. He works for Xyler," Mary-Lynn argued. "He wouldn't just attack students for no reason—"

"He already has before! I was there!"

"It's just a couple of swords, Zander. What could he possibly do with—?"

"The Swords of Salazar have the heartstrings of Leviathan inside," Zander stated. "Which means—they work—like wands!"

Mary-Lynn suddenly fell silent, taking back and giving him a baffled look.

"This wand has a dragon's heartstring," Zander told her, raising his own wand. "Now, can you imagine how powerful it would be if the heartstring was from something a thousand times stronger than a regular dragon? If he actually gets the swords—then, yes, he can go on a rampage, and he'd have all the power he could ever need to do so."

Mary-Lynn swallowed. "Where did… where did you learn all that…?"

"At first, from Crowley—then I learned a lot more in the restricted section of the library," Zander said. "I've been researching it nonstop ever since I first saw Valefor."

Mary-Lynn was quiet for a moment, staring at him incredulously. "N… nobody told me the swords were that strong…"

"Why do you think Xyler wants them in the first place?" Zander barked. "He's not just collecting antiques—he wants them because they're powerful. The bloke is a radical revolutionary. Christ—use your brain, Mary-Lynn."

Mary-Lynn gaped at him, saying nothing.

Zander sighed and gestured toward the sink fixture with his wand. "Just open the damn chamber. I don't care what you're into, or what your family's into—I really don't care. I just don't want that nutter running amok through the castle with a couple of super-powered swords. All right?"

Mary-Lynn gulped, pausing and remaining silent for several seconds.

Then, she let out a deep cloud of breath, slowly moving toward the sink fixture. She opened her mouth, speaking a simple, strange utterance in a soft, hissing manner.

"Heshahassai."

At once—the fixture began to change, pipes and pillars shifting and uprooting from behind the structure, just before two of the sinks eased outward and spread apart—revealing the great gaping hole behind it all, leading into a pit of pitch-black darkness.

Mary-Lynn then backed away, glancing over to Zander and releasing another sigh.

"You'd better make sure you win," she advised. "He's not gonna be happy with me for letting you down there… and he's not gonna be easy to beat."

"Well… I imagine it might help if his little ally is in his crosshairs," Zander told her, smirking coldly and motioning to the hole. "Go."

Mary-Lynn stared, glimpsing into the hole, then back, looking suddenly defensive. "Y… you wanna use me? Like a… human shield?"

"Naturally," Zander replied. "Did you think you were off the hook? Go. Now."

Mary-Lynn didn't move, still staring at him incredibly. "I can't believe you…"

"Well—believe this."

He took a swift step behind her and gave her a hard shove in the back—making her stumble and trip before she fell over the edge.

Mary-Lynn screamed, descending and quickly vanishing into the darkness below.

Zander gazed into the pit, hearing a long shifting noise that almost sounded like a slide—then he heard her skid to a stop somewhere, her angry groans and scoffs echoing back up to him.

He inhaled a deep breath, gripped his wand tight, and took a leap of faith—falling into the hole just behind her as darkness overtook everything around him. His back soon met the cold stony wall of the hole, as the structure changed shape halfway down, and he found himself sideways, sliding on his back until he flew out an opening.

The old bones from many years past still cluttered the floors of the chamber—and Mary-Lynn was only just staggering to her feet atop them, Zander rolling over the mess of bones once before pushing himself briskly upright, keeping his wand trained on her.

"Well?" Zander said, waving her onward. "Go."

Mary-Lynn shot him a glare, then reluctantly faced away and began marching down the dark, musky chamber.

Zander followed her, his wand aimed at her the whole way, and the two of them marched on until the bones became few and far in between, walking in a grim silence.

They continued to do so until they arrived at the vast, expansive clearing.

And as they did, and as they steadily drew near the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin in the distance—they were both able to hear the faint, rapid ramblings of a madman, who was striding to and fro before the statue and the ancient skeleton of the long dead basilisk.

The man skidded around and resumed his pace back, then skidded back and meandered the other way, holding the sorting hat and shaking it around, his teeth bared and his big eyes flaring, grumbling and yammering insanely down at the hat and smacking it around as if he intended to wake the object from an apparent sleep.

Valefor combed his wild brown fohawk back and rolled his head rather dramatically, scowling and scolding the hat again with several breathless curses. He sauntered past the open black suitcase, which lay only feet away from the giant basilisk's skull.

"WHYWON'TYOULISTENTOME?!" he bellowed at once, smashing the hat into his head and holding it there, face twisted up in sheer frustration.

Mary-Lynn slowed to a stop with Zander just behind her.

Valerfor dropped his arms, holding the crumpled hat by his side and tossing his head back, releasing a big cloud of breath. Then, he rolled his neck again, raising his brows and spotting the other two.

"Well… well… look… at… you," Valefor grinned broadly, a mad sparkle in his eyes. "Contestants numbers two and three… oooh, happy day!"

"Happy day… yeah right," Zander snarked, eyeing the hat in his hands and perching his brow snidely. "Having trouble? Not so capable, are you?"

"Nooo… there's no need. There's no necessity," Valefor explained, hunching forward and squinting at Zander. "One can't draw the Founders' Fortunes without an honest-to-God need for them, now can they?"

"It takes a bit more than that," Zander knew.

"Ooooh… yes, yes, it does," Valefor smiled again, motioning between all three of them with his finger. "It takes… a worthy… Slytherin. And I see three exceptional Slytherins right here. Hot potato!"

He whipped around and pitched the hat—throwing it straight to Mary-Lynn, who caught it and gaped at him, her eyes widening.

"You first! You first!" Valefor beamed, practically hopping in place. "Ooohohohoh… it's like a dangerous bloody lottery, innit? Depending on who draws the swords… one of us might die here. Two of us might die here! Haha… we all might die here!"

"Wildly unlikely," Zander grumbled, turning to Mary-Lynn. "Well? Go ahead."

Mary-Lynn stared at them openmouthed, glancing between the two and giving Zander an incredulous look.

"Y-you really want me to try?" she murmured. "You know you're gonna be outmatched here if I get the swords, right?"

Zander scoffed out a breathless little laugh.

Mary-Lynn's eyes narrowed, reading him and slowly understanding.

"Oh," she uttered. "You're not even remotely worried…"

"No. I'm not," Zander said honestly. "If you actually manage to call the Swords of Salazar, then you guys won't even have to kill me—because I will die of shock. So, go right ahead. Knock yourself out."

Valefor let out a loud and bombastic laugh as if Zander had created a magnificent joke, then he waved frantically at Mary-Lynn, motioning for her to try.

Mary-Lynn sighed, sinking her hand into the sorting hat and feeling around the inside—but, as they all expected, no swords appeared in her grasp.

"One down—two to go!" Valefor yelled, opening his hands at Mary-Lynn. "Gimme the hat back, Lynn!"

"Haven't you already had your turn?" Zander inquired. "It looked to me like you'd been trying to draw the swords for a while already—and you still haven't managed to."

"Oooh… but I have a real need for them now," Valefor replied, raising a finger knowingly at him. "Because an enemy just arrived in my presence! One more turn! C'mon! It's only fair!"

"Go for it," Zander shrugged dismissively, feeling confident that he would fail again.

Mary-Lynn meandered forward and handed the hat off, Valefor snatching it and shoving his arm inside, groping around hurriedly before pressing his face into it—yet still, no swords appeared.

"Aaaaaa—AAAAH!" Valefor bellowed into the hat, shaking it around furiously.

"It takes more than a need," Zander told him. "It takes an honor-bound need."

Valefor lowered the hat—turning very slowly, his expression drastically darker than before, his eyes landing angrily on Zander.

"You… have no idea… what honor… even is," Valefor hissed.

Zander let out a laugh. "And you do?"

"OF FUCKING COURSE I DO!" Valefor shouted suddenly, making Mary-Lynn jump. "You were offered a place among us because you have potential—because you, you, you, little boy—you would understand us better than anyone! Because it's not a cult—it's not a takeover—it's not a band of Death Eaters killing without reason, and it's not a bloody Fascist regime—it's just what we all should've been doing from the get-go!"

Zander fell silent, observing the man before him—Valefor, hands locked into fists and teeth bared, chest rising and falling with every heated breath—and he came to an instant realization.

This man—as unrestrained and as insane as he was—truly and honestly believed in the cause he was fighting for.

Whatever Xyler stood for, and whatever he had promised his followers—Valefor believed in it with the entirety of his being. This was why he was so confident in his ability to draw the swords, and this was why he was so very bewildered and frustrated when he was unable to—because he deeply and honestly believed that he was doing the right thing.

"I don't even know what you believe in," Zander muttered. "How could you think that I would just blindly abide by your way… when I don't even know what your way is?"

"Oh, my dear boy… if you simply came to us, then you would know," Valefor told him, his voice softening as he gently tilted his head. "It's not a prison, child. It's not a gang… and it's not Azkaban. If you wanted to leave thereafter, then you simply could. Everyone… everyone… is always free to stay or go."

Zander made a thoughtful face, pondering on the article he'd seen showing the vast and alarming number of Xyler followers that had been spotted in America.

"But nobody ever does go, do they?" he mumbled. "Once they join… they all stay. Why?"

"Because, child… it's right to stay," Valefor told him, taking a step forward and gazing into him with all sincerity. "And once you come to us, and once you hear Xyler speak… you realize… there never could have been another way. His way… is the right way… for all. For everyone in the world."

Zander eyed him closely, watching as Valefor moved steadily nearer. He glimpsed down at the sorting hat, then met Valefor's eyes again.

"If your way is the right way," Zander said. "Then why can't you draw the Swords of Salazar?"

Valefor slowed to a stop only a foot away, hesitating and sighing, then making a mild little sideways nod.

"Perhaps I… am simply not the one," he disclosed, slowly extending the hat. "And you are."

Zander's eyes ventured down, landing on the hat and feeling his heart begin to pound.

He was nearly there, almost able to seize the hat away from Valefor…

And just when he reached out to take it—Valefor suddenly tensed up, pulling the hat away and giving Zander a deep, surveying glare.

"Ooooh," Valefor breathed, releasing a string of low, breathless laughs. "Oh, you naughty little thing. You're trying to trick me yet again. Oh—I don't think so."

He stepped back, shaking his head and stuffing the hat away into his dark leather jacket—and when he revealed his hand again, he was holding his wand and raising it, his face twisted up in anger as he aimed directly at Zander.