AN
February 14, 1993, was actually a Sunday. I am usually very meticulous with dates and lunar cycles, but I decided to ignore it this one time, because Lockhart's scheme wouldn't have really worked on a day without classes.
January to April 1993, 2nd year
January was not that much different than December had been – with scornful looks and thrown hexes and the like. At least the idiot who tripped Harry on the stairs was caught by a teacher, because he thought it was so funny that he forgot to flee from the scene. Harry grumbled for a while and then demanded that the Slytherins resume their private training again. So they did.
When the first tentative rays of sunshine reached the lands, the other students all cheered up a bit. There had been no attack in January and the mandrakes were growing up well. Professor Lockhart took it upon himself to help the school cheer up some more and his idea was so ridiculously absurd that it might have actually done the trick. Lynea was honestly torn between annoyance and glee at the sight of Draco and Blaise trying to escape the 'cupids', sour-looking dwarfs that were tasked with delivering 'Valentines'. (Lynea had to ask Pansy what that was supposed to mean and it made the holiday even weirder in her eyes.)
St. Valentine's Day held no special meaning to most witches and wizards – those that observed the old traditions in particular. They had celebrated Imbolc at the beginning of February and would celebrate Ostara in March. But, alas, the Great Hall had been decorated in pink flowers and heart shaped confetti fluttered from the ceiling. Lockhart, himself, had dressed up accordingly and held a little speech during breakfast. Professor Snape looked like he was very close to murdering the damn peacock and wouldn't that have been nice?
The dwarfs kept interrupting their classes all day, much to the teachers', the Slytherins' and the Ravenclaws' chagrin. The Hufflepuffs, with whom the Slytherins shared Charms that day, seemed delighted and honestly happy with the whole thing. Not all of them, of course – Macmillan was too busy sending death glares in Harry's direction and Smith looked positively mortified when one of the dwarfs headed directly towards him.
Hermione, after some prodding from Lynea and Harry, admitted that she had been one of the forty six people that had sent Lockhart a card and that she might regret it now – and then she excused herself to the library.
"If I didn't know her any better, I would say she is avoiding us," Harry said. "But she has been holed up in the library for weeks, now. I wonder what she is researching that it takes up all of her free time?"
"We could ask her, you know?" Lynea said.
Harry shrugged. "Or she will tell us whenever she is ready."
"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" came the shout of one of the dwarfs.
All the blood drained from Harry's face. "Oh, no. Please, don't be –"
The Slytherins all turned around to watch a dwarf elbowing his way through the crowd. Draco snickered and Harry sent him a glare, the blood rushing back into his face. Then Harry spun around and tried to run, but the dwarf was faster. And not hindered by fellow classmates.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," the dwarf said.
Harry struggled and argued, but it was no use.
"His eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad," the dwarf sang, playing along on his harp.
Draco and Pansy burst into laughter and Lynea felt her lips tucking upward.
"His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
Draco and Pansy were now howling with laughter and Lynea couldn't supress it any longer and joined in. She saw the others cracking a smile and Blaise even huffed in amusement. Harry wasn't taking the situation as well as they were, though, his face burning with embarrassment as he tried to fake a laugh.
"Pickled toad," Lynea chuckled. "And I always thought it was emerald green."
"Too bad it was anonymous," Pansy said, still chuckling, when the crowd had finally dispersed and let them continue to their next class. "Harry got himself a little girlfriend."
"Or boyfriend," Draco said.
Pansy inclined her head. "Or a little boyfriend."
"Shut it," Harry grumbled, but the others only laughed in response.
To their delight, Fred and George Weasley caught them on their way to dinner, later that day, and cheerfully sang the dreadful lines to Harry, who buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly.
It wasn't what Lynea would have done to cheer the school up, but it worked. For most people.
o
When March came to an end and Hermione was still buried in books and notes in the library that had absolutely nothing to do with school work – it had gotten so bad that Neville had actually complained about it – Lynea and Harry decided that enough was enough. Hermione couldn't spend her whole life with her head in books, when she had actual real-life friends waiting for her.
"It's this diary," Hermione said. "I found it two months ago in the haunted bathroom – you know, the one on the second floor that's basically unusable thanks to Moaning Myrtle? Someone threw a book at her for no reason, so she flooded the whole floor, again." Hermione shook her head. "Anyway, there is something special about it and I can't, for the life of me, figure out what it is. I tried everything! I looked up every book and spell and magical item I could find that might help me figure it out, but nothing. Nothing at all!"
"Can I have a look at it?" Lynea asked.
Hermione looked at her sceptically. "What would you do with it?"
Lynea blinked at her tone. "Look at it. What else? I can sense magic, maybe I could help you out a bit."
Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know. It's become this really big, personal project, you know? At this point, I absolutely want to figure it out on my own. It answers when you write," Hermione said, changing the topic. "He told me his name was Tom Riddle. But none of my spells and tricks have worked so far and I am growing rather frustrated that I can't figure out how the diary works. There is something special about it and it just won't leave me alone. But I don't want to ask Tom, either. That would feel like cheating."
"That's interesting," Harry said. "It must be really complicated magic, if you of all people can't figure it out. I wonder who threw it away … Who do you think would do that, Lynea? Lynea?"
Lynea snapped her head up. "Sorry, what?"
"Who do you think would throw that diary away?"
"Does it matter?" Lynea asked. She turned to Hermione. "You said his name was Tom Riddle? And you are absolutely sure of this?"
Hermione nodded. "Like I said, he told me so himself. His words appeared on the pages, whenever I wrote something on them."
"Is there a date on the cover?" Lynea asked.
"Why, yes. 1943. It is exactly fifty years old."
"Lynea?" Harry asked. "What is it?"
"My … My grand-aunt sometimes tells us stories about her life. She went to school with a boy named Tom Riddle. He was one of her closest friends."
Harry and Hermione gaped at her.
"You mean this diary belonged to someone your grand-aunt was close with?" Hermione asked. "What happened to him?"
Lynea shrugged. "I assume he died. Naenia never said." She shook her head. "Hermione, if that diary really belonged to Tom Riddle, then you need to hand it over to a teacher."
"What? Why?" Hermione took her bag, which probably contained the diary, and clutched it close to her chest.
"Because Naenia Lémure only ever associated herself with one good-hearted person – who died a few years after their graduation, by the way. Tom Riddle was not one of them. This diary is made up of highly complicated magic and was created by a person that was most likely very deeply immersed in the Dark Arts. I do not think it is safe to carry that around with you."
"But I've had it for two months!" Hermione protested. "And nothing happened." She clutched her bag even closer to her chest. "I won't give it to you."
"Hermione," Harry said gently. "You are acting strange."
Hermione huffed.
"We are going to tell a teacher about this," Lynea warned.
"No, you won't," Hermione said stubbornly.
"Yes, we will. And I will write to my grand-aunt, too, while I'm at it."
"It's just a diary!"
"It is more than that, Hermione, and you very well know that."
Hermione huffed in indignation, quickly gathered up her notes and quills and ink, and then left the library.
o
Professor Snape somehow managed to convince Hermione to hand over the diary. He confirmed what Lynea had already suspected – that it was full of dark and sinister magic. She had sincerely hoped to be in the wrong, if only because it cast her grand-aunt in a rather bad light that one of her closest friends had created such an evil object during their school years. Lynea was sure Naenia knew about the diary's existence. How could she not, when she had been born with a seventh sense and that thing basically reeked of dark magic?
Lynea touched it once and that was enough. She never wanted to be near that thing ever again. It was just as foul as the magic that had permeated Father Goodwin's house had been.
The diary remained in Professor Snape's possession until the Easter holidays, when Naenia arrived at Hogwarts once again.
She was waiting for them in the Entrance Hall on the first morning of the holidays, having already talked to both Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Let's take a walk," she said and led Lynea and Harry through the castle, while the others went ahead to have breakfast. "Have you figured out what the monster within the chamber is, yet?"
Lynea nodded. "Theodore had the idea that it might be a snake – after he figured that the mysterious voice only Harry could hear was probably some kind of snake and could potentially be Slytherin's Monster. It wasn't hard to conclude that it must be a Basilisk from there."
"He's a clever one," Naenia said.
They had reached the second floor and were now standing in front of the writing on the wall.
Naenia smiled. "Shall we, then?"
Harry shot Lynea a confused look and Lynea mouthed 'chamber' at him.
They entered the girl's lavatory, where Naenia headed straight towards one of the sinks, brushing her fingers over the tap until she seemingly found what she was looking for. Naenia straightened up again and then paused, looking at Harry with a thoughtful expression.
"You are a Parselmouth?" Naenia asked.
Harry blinked. "Er – yes. Yes, I am."
Naenia nodded and then gestured for Harry to step forward. "Do you see that snake on the tap? Tell it to open in Parseltongue."
It took Harry a few tries, but he eventually managed a hiss and suddenly the sink sank out of sight to reveal the opening of a large pipe.
Lynea wondered how the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets had ended up in a girl's lavatory – and the one haunted by a ghost, on top of that. Where was Myrtle, anyway?
"Was Myrtle the student that died last time?" Lynea asked curiously.
"Yes," Naenia said. "That is why I sent her away."
She held out her hands for Harry and Lynea and then levitated all three of them down the pipe. After a descend that seemed to last forever, they finally landed on a damp, but crunchy floor one the end of a dark underground corridor. They lit their wands (or just summoned a light, in Naenia's case) and followed the corridor, trying not to step on the thousands of little bones littering the floor. At some point, they came across a huge, unmoving shadow that turned out to be the shed skin of the Basilisk. Naenia took a sample for herself, before leading them further inside.
They eventually reached the end of the tunnel. There was a solid wall, engraved with two entwined serpents with emerald eyes. Upon Harry's command, the wall cracked open and revealed a long chamber that was cast into a dim, greenish light. The high ceiling was supported by several stone pillars, adorned with more carved serpents, and at the end a huge stone statue loomed above them.
"So this is the Chamber of Secrets," Lynea breathed.
"Won't the heir know we're here?" Harry asked. "What if he sees us and calls the Basilisk?"
Naenia smiled. "Oh, I'm sure it won't be a problem."
She took the diary out of one of her pockets and handed it over to Lynea, who reluctantly took it in her hands. Lynea blinked. There was no foul and sinister magic trying to crawl all over her skin. There was no magic at all. Lynea furrowed her brows and looked up at her grand-aunt questioningly.
"I masked it's presence," Naenia explained. "Contained the magic within. It's still there. If your seventh sense was more sensitive, you would notice it."
Lynea turned the diary over in her hands and that was when she noticed the set of runes Naenia had engraved in the cover.
"He wasn't very happy about what I was doing," Naenia said, taking the book back. "But I didn't want to wait until we had the chance for a nice little chat this time." She gently brushed her hands over the cover and sighed. "Oh, Tom …"
"This time?" Lynea echoed.
But Naenia only smiled knowingly and let the diary disappear into the folds of her travelling cloak. "The diary was responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets. I will not tell you how, only that the school is now safe once more. Now, Harry, if you would please call upon Slytherin's Monster? And tell him to close his eyes."
Harry gulped and then closed his eyes.
High above them, the mouth of the statue opened and slowly, ever so slowly, the huge body of a snake emerged from within. It was enormous, maybe twenty feet long, maybe even more, its scales a vibrant, emerald green and its eyes closed. Lynea thought snakes couldn't close their eyes, but she supposed Basilisk's were special.
"Hello, my dear," Naenia said affectionately as she approached the Basilisk.
The great serpent raised its head in her direction and let its tongue flick out to scent her.
Naenia smiled and gently laid a hand on the Basilisk's snout. "Did you miss me? Oh, you poor thing. Did Tom force you to do his evil deeds, again? I wish I could have taken you with me all those years ago."
"Is she –" Harry started incredulously. "Is she talking to that monster?"
The Basilisk made a soft hissing sound.
"She is!" Harry said. "And it's answering her!"
"It seems like Tom Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin," Lynea said. "Or was, rather. And since Naenia and Tom were friends, he apparently showed her the chamber at some point."
Harry grabbed Lynea's arm. "What are you doing?"
"Hm?" She had unconsciously taken several steps forward. "It's – I feel like its magic is calling to me. Basilisks are beings of Death and I serve Death. So I suppose …"
„Gleich und Gleich gesellt sich gern", Naenia said and beckoned with her free hand. "Come, Lynea, feel for yourself what the magic of one of Death's greatest beings feels like. You may come closer too, Harry, if you wish to."
"No, thank you," Harry said timidly. "I'm fine right where I am."
Lynea carefully approached the Basilisk's head and positioned herself next to her grand-aunt. Even though they were currently in a damp, cold chamber, the Basilisk had smooth and dry and warm scales. Another thing that set it apart from cold-blooded snakes. She felt the puffs of its breath coming out of its snout, warm and moist, and then a cold tongue flicked out to take in her scent.
Lynea closed her eyes and let herself fall into the feeling of the magic surrounding them. At first, she felt like she was drowning. There was so much all around her. But then something cold and steady and reassuring nudged at her and she directed her senses towards that, towards the inherent Death Magic of the great beast lying on the ground in front of her. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before – vast and great and endless, but also safe and gentle, like home.
"Your friend killed a girl," Lynea said, once she had collected herself again.
"That he did," Naenia said, not sounding sad in the slightest. "It resulted in our greatest argument to date. We reconciled eventually, but in the end, his plans and mine just did not align. Tom committed a terribly sin on that fateful day. I had hoped he never would do it, but he did not listen to me. I hadn't realized yet, back then, that he was already too far out of my reach. I do not know what he was trying to accomplish this time, but I will find out in due time."
"Then he was acting through someone else using the diary?" Lynea asked. "And there is no real heir in the school?"
Naenia nodded. "I will take the diary with me. The danger has passed. Dumbledore has already been informed – it was a long night, I shall let you know."
"You were talking to him all night?" Lynea asked.
Naenia smiled eerily. "He and I did not see eye to eye on certain aspects of this whole situation. But he relented to my will, in the end, wasting the precious sleep of one whole night."
"Is –" Harry licked his lips. "Dobby said my life was in danger. And we figured that Mr Malfoy's plan was to open the Chamber of Secrets somehow. Does that mean I'm safe now? Or is my life still in danger?"
"You are as safe as one can be in Hogwarts," Naenia replied. "Which is to say, not very safe at all. But the imminent danger this 'Dobby' was talking about came from Tom, I assume. So in that regard you should be fine."
"May I ask why that put me in danger?"
Naenia gave Harry an indecipherable look. Lynea got the impression that her grand-aunt was debating whether she should reveal a certain piece of information or whether it would be better to keep it to herself.
"In our third year at Hogwarts," Naenia eventually began, "Tom came to me and showed me something he had been working on for a while. Tom was a proud and power-hungry person. He despised his ordinary name, the name of his Muggle father, greatly for a number of reasons and he sought to change that. What he came up with was the rather ridiculous anagram of his name, 'Lord Voldemort'."
Harry gasped audibly and Lynea shifted from one foot to another. This she had not known.
"He did change his last name legally to Gaunt after we graduated," Naenia continued, "and henceforth went by his middle name Marvolo. And then, one day, he vanished. The great Lord Gaunt, who had half the Ministry under his control – simply gone. When Lord Voldemort emerged out of nowhere, only I knew who he really was. Dumbledore has figured it out by now as well, but back then he didn't know. I suppose Tom knew I wouldn't tell anyone. I did not concern myself with the matters of the living during that time."
Lynea raised an eyebrow. "And you do, now?"
Naenia smiled. "More than back then, at least." Then she dropped the smile. "So you see, Harry, whoever Tom was using for his schemes might have told him about you – about the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort as an infant, who defeated what he had been probably planning to become for years."
Harry had nothing to say to that.
"Why did he vanish?" Lynea asked. "Why didn't he just realize his plans as Lord Gaunt?"
"I suspect it is because he wanted to get rid of his Muggle heritage entirely. Changing his name did not erase the memory from the minds of his peers. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much his brilliance shone – the people around him never forgot that he was 'only a halfblood'. So he disappeared and came back as someone else entirely, as 'Lord Voldemort'." She scoffed. "And no one ever noticed. But that is only a theory."
"He blamed Hagrid," Harry said quietly. "He told me – Hagrid told me that he had been sent to Azkaban the last time, even though Aragog never hurt anyone."
"I remember that," Naenia said. "Headmaster Dippet didn't even blink twice as he accepted the offered excuse of an Acrumantula being responsible for the attacks and Myrtle Warren's death. It was quite pitiful to watch. And then he gave Tom an award to make sure he kept quiet about it – not that it prevented Tom from telling the Slytherins about his heroic deed."
"You knew Hagrid?" Harry asked.
"We met," Naenia said. "He was quite the troublemaker, but I never paid all that much attention to him. Nott and Black didn't buy the story, either."
"What made you forgive him?" Lynea asked. "He did the unforgivable, he committed murder. But you still forgave him, did you not?"
Naenia stayed silent for a moment. Then, in a wistful voice, she said, "That is a very good question. One I am unwilling to answer, my dear." She turned back to the Basilisk and cooed, "Oh, you poor, poor thing."
AN
A bit anticlimactic compared to the original, isn't it? But I saw no reason to let them have an epic showdown with Voldy and the Basilisk. Certainly not with Naenia's history with those two.
("Look at you, you darling little sweetheart. You're not an evil monster, are you? Just a misunderstood creature that was never given a chance." A young Naenia to the Basilisk, chapter 27 of Lemuria)