Chapter 36

Valentine in Hell

14 February 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland

Valentine's Day. Fourteenth day of February in the Year of Grace 1993. A day which was going to live in shame and infamy in the annals of Hogwarts history.

Alexandra first thought when she saw the disaster which had replaced the Great Hall on Valentine's Day was that she had been too sleepy and entered the wrong Scottish castle on this fine morning of February. It was the most rational explanation. Her second thought was to blame Gilderoy Lockhart for the millionth time. Her third was to curse with all her heart the man to be eaten by the Legendary Monster of Slytherin. Their idiot of a Defence Professor deserved no less in her opinion. The voice of Morag MacDougal on her left interrupted these murderous thoughts.

"Alex, if you decide one day to wear that much pink..."

"Yes?"

"Know that I will kill you." Morag affirmed in a tone which left no doubt she would carry the threat. The red-haired Ravenclaw was the best of the group of four, not surprising given her status in the nobility of the Wizarding World, and she seemed to take this affront to Valentine's Day personally. "This goes for you too Hermione."

The threat was not given to Nigel: there was no way a boy would wear the kind of pink clothes Lockhart wore voluntarily.

"Please." Huffed the genius resident of Gryffindor Tower. "I dress better than Alexandra, and there's no way we will be caught in the pink dresses Professor Lockhart loves."

Alexandra nodded vigorously in approval. That she loved wearing jeans plus shirts and other non-magical clothes at the first opportunity didn't mean she would approve to wear THAT!

"But if we do, it will be the sign we are under Lockhart's trance or that he has brainwashed us." The Potter Heiress remarked in a mournful tone as they marched towards the Ravenclaw table. "In that case, you have my benediction to terminate me." Alexandra sighed as they sat at their usual place. "Or what will be left of me in my head, I suppose. So much pink..."

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was completely unrecognisable this morning. Instead of the classical colours one expected from a medieval fortress, the walls had taken a very pinkish tone, covered by pinkish flowers in indecent quantities. The candles which provided warmth and light when the sun did not shine enough had been replaced by thousands of hearts. There were pink hearts, silver and pink hearts, red and pink hearts and golden-pink hearts. The hearts came in all size and form, from the mini-ones the size of a nail to the huge balloons floating above their hearts. There were thousands of hearts confetti falling from the enchanted ceiling, the rare paintings present had had their cadres surrounded by hearts. Everywhere Alexandra's gaze turned, there was only hearts. Mini-angels in pink and gold song horrible love songs. The cups, plates and tables had been charmed to reveal pictures of medieval women fawning before gentlemen who may or may not have a strong likeness with Gilderoy Lockhart. It was horrid. It was an abomination. It was...the words failed Alexandra in front of so much pinkness.

And in the middle of this, was standing Gilderoy Lockhart defying the laws of human decency and intelligence with flashy and lurid pink robes, a smile so neat and shining it was almost frightening and a pink hat which shape in from of heart had a good chance to traumatise half of Hogwarts until their last breath.

Alexandra had to fight the urge vomit at the sight of this nauseating spectacle. Halloween was already bad, but at least this mockery of Samhain was done in good spirit. But this... with this debauchery, Hogwarts had really reached a new low in their defiance of the non-magical traditions. Only motive of satisfaction, at the Head Table all the Professors save Lockhart were stone-faced and made several tics at irregular intervals proving how close to their moral limits they were. The audience of students present for breakfast was divided between the disgust, the shock and the fan-girls. The latter were giggling, ignoring the hateful glares of the former two factions. The Slytherins as a whole showed faces of funeral. The majority of the Ravenclaws were muttering and whispering angrily how it was against tradition. The others Houses were trying their best to pretend it was a normal day, that nothing was out of the norm...and failing miserably.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted, a monumental flash of pink in front of the gobsmacked assembled students. "And may I thank the three hundred and forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all – and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the Entrance Hall marched...dwarves? But they were not the dwarves of the Lord of the Rings. They were not even cheap, smaller and uglier versions of the noble race imagined by Tolkien. They were all wearing wings and harps. They were positively and truly ridiculous. They were the alive, downgraded versions of the garden dwarves littering around Privet Drive and the neighbouring blocks, and one look was enough to see why the goblins were feared and this magical species was not. Oh, and they were all harbouring smiles as big as Lockhart.

"Not good..." Morag mumbled, putting her hands over her eyes.

"Why do I have a bad feeling?" Whispered Nigel. The three girls uncomfortably looked at each other, not wanting to reveal their feelings out loud. Such an affirmation was tempting Fate. And Fate hated to be tempted.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Beamed Lockhart, confirming the most nightmarish scenarios the stunned children had been able to imagine. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Alexandra had a feeling her Head of House had repressed a need to burst in tears. As for Professor Snape, well the Slytherin Potion Master was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison. And it went without saying that the antidotes would not be distributed any time soon. Too bad Headmaster Dumbledore wasn't present today. Alexandra somehow wished the silver-haired old wizard would have been present to see his expression. The 'grandfather' persona against the infuriating Gilderoy Lockhart would have been an interesting match.

"Something has to be done..." Grumbled Alexandra. "Do you think that should I kill Lockhart here and now, the Professors would cover up the murder?"

Not one of her three friends looked to have heard her, fortunately or unfortunately.

Nigel in the mean time was pronouncing "unbelievable" wordlessly more than a dozen times, eyes staring to an invisible point in the Enchanted Ceiling. Morag was shaking her head absently. Hermione was reciting passages of Hogwarts: A History by heart to give her serenity and calm.

"So that's what he intended when I heard him speak with Professor McGonagall last week." Intervened Hermione.

"He announced one week ago he was going to destroy Valentine's Day forever? I must have missed this conversation." Alexandra told, dazed from too much insults to rationality in such a short amount of time. "I would have killed him before he could put his plans to execution." She added in a low growl.

"No, he said the school needed a morale-booster now that the Heir has ceased his attacks in fear of him. To wash away the bad memories of last term, I think he said."

"I don't know what the worst in this conversation is." Murmured Alexandra, her voice only high enough to be heard by her three friends. "That the Heir could be afraid of Lockhart the Narcissist Fraud or that one single day in the year could make everyone forget an entire term of fear, angst and nasty pranks."

"What are we going to do?" Demanded the red-haired Ravenclaw. "We can't let Lockhart go away with such an insult to fashion sense. And don't say doing nothing, this time Alexandra." Morag said in a severe tone. "We have let the time for the curse to do the job, but if he doesn't want to teach or do something intelligent, then I think it's our duty to force him out of the castle."

"Fine. But you're buying the fireworks and the materials I want." Sighed Alexandra. To say the truth, the green-eyed Ravenclaw had a violent wish for pay-back too. There were limits which shouldn't be crossed, and Lockhart had joyously trampled them.

"Agreed."

"I will give you the list once the day over. Lockhart has really rumbled you, doesn't he?"

The MacDougal Heiress not replying was all the confirmation Alexandra needed.

"I propose we do not wait here for long. Eat fast." Advised Nigel.

"Why?" Asked the three girls in interrogating tones.

"Do you want to receive Valentine's poems in front of the whole school?" The auburn-haired boy asked rhetorically.

Alexandra could not help it. She laughed.

"Who in the name of the goblin armies could have the stupid idea to send me Valentines?" The Potter Heiress managed to articulate.

A gesture of the Gryffindor boy attracted Alexandra attention to the Gryffindor table, where the Weasley Twins and the New Marauders were busy making great signs to the dwarves with vindictive smiles. Alexandra immediately stopped grinning and blanched. Their group had totally avoided any retaliation from Longbottom, Black and Weasley for the Polyjuice incident, the Gryffindors involved having clearly taken the message Parvati Patil relayed very seriously. But here the second-year group had been given a golden opportunity for free vengeance. Something told Alexandra a Lion like Leo Black was not going to let it pass. Hearing the rhymes the Boy-Who-Lived and the rest of the prankster leadership of Hogwarts was not how she wanted to pass her Sunday.

"Never mind. I propose we retreat to our studying room." Luckily, it was a day where there were no classes and they had not to be in Lockhart's presence – it would have amplified the mental damage they had just received. "Before the dwarves or Lockhart horrible clothes choices catch up with us. Nigel and I have information we need to discuss."

"What kind of information?"

"The one other students really don't need to hear in public. It might cause riots. Or worse."

A new rain of pink hearts in confetti accelerated their escape out of the Hall.

We will really have to tidy up and clean our headquarters after this session, thought Alexandra. Multiples hours of search in the Daily Prophet archives, obscure magical creature books and centuries-old lore had created a veritable mess in the room which was serving as their headquarters, place of refuge and studying centre. The table where the two Ravenclaws and the two Gryffindors were seated was crumbling under large piles of parchments.

The fire in the chimney had burnt far more piles of useless information even the prodigious memory of Hermione Granger could remember, but the knowledge they had written in their research for the Chamber of Secrets was two or three times greater than the regular assignments given by their Professors in first-year and second-year.

"Alright. After months of research, we have finally managed to find in the Daily Prophet where the modern knowledge and the myth of the Chamber of Secrets originated."

Hermione and Morag smiled widely. In all honesty, they had excellent reasons to be happy. Most of the second- years students facing the challenge of finding a clue in old library texts would have abandoned long ago, but not them. Ultimately, their long and methodical quest had bore fruit. It was Nigel and she yesterday who had found the edition of the Prophet they were looking for.

"When?"

"1945. May 7 1945."

"1945? Professor Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster at that period, no?" Asked Hermione.

Alexandra made a sign of denegation. "No, he was the Senior Professor of Transfiguration and head of House Gryffindor. Professor Armando Dippet was the Headmaster when the attacks happened. In fact..." Alexandra grabbed the old edition of the Daily Prophet where she had found the information long-awaited, "if the newspaper can be believed, Dumbledore had left Hogwarts to go fighting on the continent. Two days before this date, he had vanquished the Dark Lord Grindelwald in a duel which had destroyed half of Berlin...but everyone knows that part of the story. Needless to say, the affair of the Chamber of Secrets happening at that exact moment was not that popular or noteworthy."

Needless to say, the coincidence of two momentous events happening at the same time...was it really a coincidence?

"And they caught the person responsible?"

"Yes. Gryffindor student Rubeus Hagrid was expulsed from Hogwarts and had his wand broken for his participation in six attacks and one murder." Revealed the Potter Heiress.

"Rubeus Hagrid was arrested for the murder of a fifth-year Muggle-born student. Are you sure you read correctly?" Hermione tone was full of scepticism. For good reasons, since the Keeper of the Keys wasn't exactly the picture of a bloodthirsty assassin.

"See for yourself." Alexandra affirmed, handing the incriminating pages. "That's what the Daily Prophet, the Dancing Farfadet and the Loch Chronicles are saying." With the three main newspapers of Magical Britain all saying the same thing, it did not leave much place for other interpretations.

"I have difficulty believing this. He's a gentle man..."

"I have too," agreed Alexandra. "But not for the reasons you might expect. It is common knowledge Hagrid loves giant beasties and animals no one in his or her right mind would want as pets. Moreover, he's also reputed to be brash impulsive and wouldn't be able to lie to save his own life. A true Gryffindor if there ever was one."

"No trace of cunning or sneakiness." Approved Morag, who had taken the Dancing Farfadet article once Hermione finished reading.

"Hagrid is perhaps the last person which would be acknowledged by Salazar Slytherin as his Heir or a possible claimant. With his gigantic stature, Hagrid is certainly not fully human, therefore making him a natural antagonist of the pure-blood ideology."

"You think he was framed." Said flatly Nigel, a statement rather than a question. Alexandra shrugged.

"Yes and no. If the paper can be trusted, he was caught with an Acromantula in his possession. These are XXXXX creatures, huge spiders with powerful venoms which are not above eating humans when they have captured them."

Alexandra shivered. The description of the Acromantulas she had read in the library was way too much approaching the description of the spiders haunting the tunnels of the Cirith Ungol's pass in the Lord of the Rings for her mind not to imagine dreadful scenarios. The green-eyed girl had no fear of 'normal' spiders - although Petunia Dursley had a huge phobia of them - but meeting one bigger than you with taste of human flesh was...not good. And it was undoubtedly a generous understatement.

"Hagrid really deserved his expulsion. I don't think there's much doubt about that." If raising a man-eater spider in secret wasn't grounds for expulsion, then nothing would be. The Acromantula could have attacked young first-years unable to defend themselves and the venom these creatures could inject was extremely counter-indicated for your health. Hogwarts standards may have slipped during the last decades under Dumbledore's rule, however it appeared that with Headmaster Dippet they were limits one did not cross. "But I don't think he was the Heir of Slytherin. Not unless he did what Quirell did during years if not decades."

"Well the attacks ceased, no?" Morag had decided to play the role of the devil's advocate. "I mean, if Hagrid had been expulsed and the attacks continued, that would have proved his innocence."

"Think about it, Morag." Hermione had a face a bit...frustrated anyone could consider the gentle Keeper of Keys the culprit behind the recent climate of fear in the Scottish school. "Slytherin House is supposed to be the embodiment of cunning and ambition. What better way to triumph than for the culprit to blame someone else?"

"You're right." Answered the red-haired Ravenclaw in a not fully convinced expression. "You're right. But you realise it leaves us not better advanced, yes? If Hagrid was not the culprit fifty years ago, then he is not going to be responsible for the attacks now. And we can't exactly interrogate the former students who studied there that year to prove or disprove our theories."

"Yep. I bet most of them won't remember what we're speaking about." Joked Alexandra.

"We have longer memories and lives than Muggles." Sniffed Morag, which Alexandra reacting only by raising an eyebrow.

"Okay. Neither the Prophet nor the Farfadet are giving us significant details. No names, nothing save Hagrid. Are there any other articles?"

"There are not a lot more articles for Hogwarts in summer 1945 and they're all about OWL, Newt and different inter-school competitions. We will search more, but don't keep your hopes up. They didn't announce the attacks when they happened, just at the death of the student and when Hagrid's was arrested."

"On page 5, half a page or article and no follow-up the next day or the rest of the week?" Morag frowned. "Looks like a cover-up. Everything which happens at Hogwarts like the Quidditch plays or the NEWTS results are highly publicised," the red-haired girl explained to her less political astute friends. "A murder in the castle should have made the front page and the headlines, war or no war against Grindelwald."

"But it didn't." Nigel said unnecessarily.

"Yes, it definitely smells like a cover-up or should I say another cover-up. But in this case, if Dumbledore wasn't responsible why should he continue the secrecy policy?"

"Oath?" The reply of Hermione was very tentative and not very convincing.

"He was a teacher so it's a possibility. But once he was Headmaster of Hogwarts and Dippet died, he should have been released from it. The Headmaster position is rumoured to have leeway with binding oaths sworn inside these walls, in order to protect the interests of Hogwarts."

"Convenient." Was Alexandra laconic remark, thinking about plenty of situations where the Chief Warlock had benefitted from this loophole.

"It is a good advantage in the Wizengamot and international politics." Agreed the Irish witch.

"Let's examine all the facts we know, shall we?" Alexandra frowned and tightened her fists. "We have the man who was accused close to forty years ago on Hogwarts grounds as the moment we speak. A man certainly innocent and framed for the crime in spite of the minor fact no spider of any kind has the power to petrify. That I know of."

"We have a Headmaster and a number of unknown Professors willing to maintain the secret of the previous events at any cost." Added Hermione.

"We have this fraud of Lockhart, who is the new Quirell or the worst imbecile the earth has seen walked."

"Don't forget his fan-girl named Professor Reed." Piped Nigel.

"Oh, yes the fan-girls. Let's talk...no let's not talk about them. Our minds are not sure to survive from this discussion. Really."

A mutual groan of assent followed to confirm the wisdom of this decision.

"We have Longbottom who is a Parselmouth and is always found near the crime scenes. Then there was their little attempt to use Polyjuice and pass for me." Hermione's voice was silent condemnation, and her eyes blazed of cold fury. Alexandra winced. Convincing her bushy-haired friend not to murder Patil in the days which had followed the discovery of this rule-breaking had necessitated the combined efforts of Morag, Nigel and herself. It had met success, but the black-haired witch was far from convinced Hermione would ever forgive Parvati. The two girls had already not been close or shared any passions at Hogwarts. The Indian-born girl loved gossiping, the cosmetics and everything linked one way or another with beauty, reputation and appearance. Hermione was studious, loved books, desired to be at the top academically, and couldn't care less about looks. Now any friendship between them was well and truly ruined. Strangely, it had made Parvati and Lavender go further in the Boy-Who-Lived inner circle. Go figure.

"And the Slytherins and the Gryffindors attack each other every time the Heir attacks or something goes wrong. Like Quidditch."

Sign of how things had changed since they all met and were Sorted on September 1 1991, it was Nigel who interrupted this depressing series of fact.

"I think that's enough. We won't solve the situation like this. What about speaking about a more joyous subject? The Electives?"

"Yes!" The support had come from Hermione, no surprise as an academic point had appeared from nowhere.

"We are not supposed to inform our Head of House before Easter..." Sighed Alexandra while stacking piles of spare parchments. Inwardly she knew pertinently the cause was lost from the beginning, if Hermione's expression was any indication. "Oh, very well...five possible electives in second year from what I read. Correct, Morag?"

"Essentially, yes. The Five Electives are Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. It is mandatory to take two out of five, and advised to brilliant students to take three. At least that is the theory."

"This is not true?" Hermione seemed really indignant the Professors had yet again 'forgot' to inform them of several key points in their school choices.

"It's not completely false." Amended the Ravenclaw pure-blood. "Due to the high rate of wealthy and influential families attending Hogwarts, many of the students have already a job in politics or the family businesses to manage. Sometimes both. And there are other electives available in fourth year. Not free and available to everyone, but they exist."

"You are in the first category." Pointed Hermione Granger.

"Yes." Agreed the blue-eyed witch. "Instead of taking a third elective, my parents are going to hire a tutor for me in classes of business management and Wizengamot politics every Saturday of our third year."

"Why not Alex too?"

The Potter Heiress laughed in a tone which was sincerely amused.

"Hermione, who am I?"

"You're Alexandra Potter, Heiress of the Most Ancient House of Potter, daughter of...oh..."

"Yes, 'oh'. The odds of a tutor accepting me as a student are so low the odds of Sauron appearing in the middle of the Great Hall at next lunch are significantly higher I'm sure."

"When will you stop the Lords of the Rings references?"

"Never." Alexandra retorted, knowing Hogwarts was rife with comparisons with Middle Earth and reality was rarely proven as simple and fair.

"And the classes you will take?"

"Hmmm...Arithmancy is a must-be, I think."

"It's the most difficult elective of third-year." Nigel's voice had a hint of hesitancy, largely understandable given that despite his constant climbing in the ranks of the second-years, the auburn-haired Gryffindor was still far from the top ten of the 1991 arrivals. And Professor Vector, the Arithmancy expert residing at Hogwarts, had acquired a reputation of failing half her class of third-years before Christmas. In all, less than five students managed each year to achieve an OWL in this class. Achieving a NEWT in Arithmancy was big news, according the rumours it gave access to extremely well-paid jobs and national recognition was not far behind. Of course you had to survive five years with Professor Vector first.

"Sure. But it will be a challenge. And Arithmancy is the basis of Spell-Creation."

"It's more than that." Said quietly Hermione. "In the books of the library, it's explained Arithmancy combined with Runes is at the foundation of the ward schemes defending each major wizarding home and stores, each school and place of importance in Wizarding Britain."

"True. And a lot of other possibilities have been listed in the brochures. So. Who will go in Arithmancy with me?"

Hermione of course raised her hand faster than her shadow. Nigel nodded negatively, rapidly followed by the MacDougal Heiress.

"No offence, Alexandra, but I want a class which will not be a monumental chore and that I can pass with an 'O' without studying every hour and minute of my free time. Nigel and I will leave Hermione and you the honour of ruling Arithmancy."

"Coward." Muttered the Potter Heiress vaguely amused. "What will you take then? Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Yes."

"No."

Alexandra and Hermione both blinked. Morag not taking Care of Magical Creatures did not leave her that many other possibilities. And Nigel taking it...Alexandra was sincerely worried for him. Professor Kettleburn had a frightening tendency of inviting 'funny' creatures to supplement his teachings. The man and Hagrid were friends, if their discussions in the Great Hall were any indication.

"Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies?"

"Yes." Confirmed the second Ravenclaw member of the Exiled. "Runes are quite an interesting subject, and Muggle Studies is an easy OWL."

"I will take Care with Divination." Announced Nigel.

"Divination is a joke." Told Morag before softening a bit her words. "It's true it's the easiest OWL of the lot since you can invent everything and not be caught out by the examiners, but the Professor is a drunk and it really doesn't teach you anything worthwhile."

"How to lie convincingly?" Proposed Alexandra. "I have heard it's a good quality for a politician...oh, well. I will take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. I have seen too many dangerous creatures already in the last two years and I don't want Trelawney predicting my death twice per day."

"That only leaves you, Hermione." The MacDougal Heiress ignoring the last critic of her fellow Ravenclaw.

"I will take the five electives." The brown-haired Gryffindor girl said proudly and with a hint of superiority.

"Do you intend to break all the records of Hogwarts?" Asked politely Alexandra, before puffing at Hermione's reddening visage. "Never mind. But won't have any free time with that kind of schedule."

"To my knowledge, no one has tried to follow twelve classes at the same time." Thoughtfully announced Morag. "The boys and girls who achieve twelve OWLS do it in self-study. And they are not a lot of them. Arithmancy is a hard class to follow, and I suppose Ancient Runes can be on par with Transfiguration.

In fact, I think the last person to achieve twelve OWLS at the exams was William's Weasley, the eldest son of the Weasley family, who graduated three or four years ago."

"Did Dumbledore get twelve OWLS when he studied at Hogwarts?" Demanded Nigel.

"No." Answered Alexandra. "He achieved 'only' eleven. He didn't study Divination."

"Someone has been searching in the school archives..."

"It's not against the school rules last time I've checked." Affirmed the black-haired girl. The archives were always open to the students but the number of non-Ravenclaws demanding the permission to search them was ridiculously low. "But in this case, it was not necessary. Searching the archives of the Daily Prophet was largely enough to see Dumbledore's academic record printed black on white four or five times a month. Illuminating the masses with the brilliance of our Chief Warlock, I think."

"What did he take?" Hermione despite all accusations and conspiracies they had levelled against the Headmaster was still considering him an academic model to beat.

"Eleven OWLS, all with an 'O' and perfect or near-perfect marks. Transfiguration, Charms, History, Potions, Astronomy, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology for the core classes. His electives were Alchemy, Ancient Runes and Enchanting."

Alchemy was still in theory offered as a sixth-year class elective. In theory being the key word. Only six times in three decades had someone managed a NEWT on the subject and not a single one had been taught by the Supreme Mugwump.

"Enchanting?"

"It was one of the most esoteric and prestigious elective classes a student could take at Hogwarts." Explained Morag. "Open only to the most brilliant students of fourth year, the class offered ward creation, the ability to enchant your own objects and different subjects at the edge of magical abilities."

"It was closed in 1964 by the Headmaster, no?"

"Yes, it caused quite a scandal at that time. The Headmaster made the point the class requirements were too high and there weren't enough witches or wizards to teach to justify keeping a full-time teacher."

Alexandra touched her lips in perplexity. It didn't make sense. Her mother had passed the OWL and the NEWT in Enchanting, in spite of being no teachers? How the hell had Lily Potter achieved that feat?

"I think Dumbledore enjoy being scandalous. Just look at his clothes, they're so out of fashion..." Alexandra sighed. "Chances to reopen the class in time for third year?"

"Non-existent. But it is still taught at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons and several other European schools."

"And it's supposed to cheer me up? Assuming I was willing to transfer to a school where I have no friends and I won't be able to speak the language, Beauxbatons is hellishly expensive. Durmstrang will never accept us as their students due to their stupid blood-purity laws."

"Err...it's less blood-purity and more of a means to limit themselves the number of candidates to the upper classes of our society." Corrected Nigel. "That's my father told me anyway."

"Fantastic. Oh, well, nothing we can do about it. Now we have to organise how we plan to train in offensive and defensive spells. Something tells me we aren't going to get good marks in the Defence Against the Dark Arts OWLs otherwise..."


19 February 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland

It was nearly an hour after curfew and Hogwarts was calm. The corridors were cold, deprived of any human life save one or two Prefects and Professors starting their rounds. The torches provided light as their enchantments commanded, but in pure loss as there was no student to lighten the walk.

The Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws had long gone back to the warmth and safety of their Common Rooms in the towers. The Hufflepuffs had done the same on the first floor. And the Slytherins were now sleeping or studying in their own bedrooms in the dungeons.

The gates of the school were closed. Slowly but surely, the teaching staff and the Prefects retired to their private quarters, no threat evidently having manifested on this evening and the first hours of night. A human being, no matter if he or she was a Muggle or a magical, needed a few hours of sleep, leaving only one or two regular patrols for the entire school.

Appearances, alas, could be incredibly deceiving.

In the dungeons, a long forgotten and dusty room having two decades ago served as a Potions laboratory had now found a far more sinister purpose. One the Professors and Headmaster in all certainty wouldn't have approved of if they had been aware of it.

In it, tens students of various ages had gathered. The reason of their presence was a eleventh individual, who was currently delivering a vibrant speech on the stage, not hampered by his or her personal traits being dissimulated under the hood of the Hogwarts winter robes.

"It is time," finished the figure leading the small assembly in front of the ruined blackboard, "that the blood-traitors and the Mudbloods understand their place in our society!"

"Yes!"

"You're right!"

The exclamations had come from Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague, two Slytherin fourth-years well known for their absolute belief in blood-purity. The rest of the Slytherins present were less vocal, but the viciousness and the fanaticism in their eyes gave a clue the affirmations had struck true.

"How many laws have been passed in the last decades destroying our culture? Our traditions? Our right to practise the Old and Sacred Magic?"

"Too many. Bloody too many." Grumbled one of the participants in the audience. Jared Miller, Heir of the Ancient House of Miller had reasons to be as disgruntled as he was. His House since 1945 has lost the 'Most Noble' part of the title thanks to several of their most powerful rituals becoming forbidden, slaying in a single strike their influence and their reputation. Several attempts to redress this fact by amoral means had then sealed their downfall. The wealth he and his relatives owned was a paltry thing compared to what House Miller had owned in the past.

"Too many." Approved the orator in a calmer tone. "Too many and it's time it stops! The Light Houses are growing more and more arrogant with each success and when they will have the opportunity they will push to remove the Dark from the Wizengamot. Every day house search warrants are written under the most ridiculous accusations!"

A very slim teenager with brown hair and dark blue eyes vigorously nodded among the group. Dermot Ardoch, Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Ardoch, had reasons to be furious. A party of sixteen from the Ministry had raided his house two weeks ago, doing significant damage and leaving without an excuse after they didn't find what they had been looking for. Given that Ardoch's uncle had been an enforcer of Lord Voldemort's will in the last war, these raids launched on the tiniest rumour had become a common occurrence at Ardoch Manor. The last episode had left his grandmother bleeding on the ancestral parquet and only the devotion of a House Elf had transported the matriarch of House Ardoch to the hospital of Saint Mungo's in time.

"What is your plan?" Asked Thomson Carrow, Heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Carrow. The sixth-year had become rather infamous in the Snake's Den for his bland participations in 'pranks' against the Muggle-borns, deeds which would have awarded him several weeks of suspension if he had been caught in the act. Thomson was known as cruel and partially insane, a trait which had already been noticed during the last war. The Carrow line had become somewhat infamous for siring the Death Eaters Alecto and Amycus Carrow and Thomson was following in their steps.

"My plan is to force the Board of Governors to dismiss this old fool of Dumbledore with a series of impressive and devastating attacks. Once it's done, we will be able to push for Hogwarts to establish anew a true and proper magical education. The majority will be too fearful of us to make any move against the Dark."

"It could work..." The smile of Lewis Wilkes, last living member of House Wilkes would have made crawl of any sane wizard and witch. "Time to explain these abominations we do not longer tolerate their existence!"

More than one of the persons narrowed or frowned at this intervention. Douglas Wilkes, Lewis's father, had been a Death Eater of the inner circle, and had been rather enthusiastic in screaming expressions like this before he manipulated wards and lethal traps to fight against the Order of the Phoenix and forces of the Ministry of Magic. That Douglas Wilkes overwhelming majority of murders and destruction had been directed against Purebloods or Half-Bloods was a stark reminder events had not gone exactly according to the official policies of the Dark.

"That's all well and good." Intervened Annabeth Blackford, Heiress of the Ancient House of Blackford, a family which had practically lost everything in its fervent support of the last Dark Lord. "You speak of things we want to hear. Acts our House politics and financial status desperately want to adhere. But who are you? How do we know if we can trust you?"

The person hidden behind the robes emitted a dark smirk, before pushing back her hood and revealing her changing visage to the entire audience.

Blonde-reddish hairs and brown-purple eyes greeted the astounded Slytherins.

"I am Scylla Persephone Yaxley." Said the young girl.

"I am the Herald of the Heir." Powerful dark green tendrils of energy emerged in a snake-like manner from the sleeves of her robes before striking instantly the arms of each student, effectively binding them to the equivalent of a powerful Oath of Silence.

"And if you betray me, I promise my Master will take a long time to make you suffer."