Chapter 38
Cut the Head and the Body Dies
18th March 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
"Of the many fearsome lands that haunt our land, there is none more curious nor deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach a gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside its most deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spider flee before the Basilisk, for it is their natural enemy, and the Basilisk flees only before the crowning of a rooster, which is fatal to it."
Nigel finished the long paragraph in a dubitative voice. The Potter Heiress didn't blame him in the least. Some books were saying particularly stupid things, but this one was an award winner by itself.
"Well this garbage was unsurprisingly unhelpful." Said Alexandra, sighing in a theatrical manner. "What was the name of this one?"
"Most Macabre Monstrosities." Replied the Gryffindor, putting back the book on the table of their study room with a disgusted glance.
"Figures. We will put it back with the other useless books which give misleading information and should be thrown out of any respectable library." The green-eyed witch took her quill and noted the book's title on the parchment before her. "Best write the name to make sure we don't try to use this waste of paper for anything important in our studies."
All of the conversation was in whispers, protected by spells of repulsion and disorientation. Unable to use their private study room, the Ravenclaw witch and the Gryffindor wizard had to use a little frequented wing of the library and hope their spells and the boring aspect of the Runes which were invented two thousand years before the Christ managed to deter all potential spies. They were only two of their group left now. Never before had the absence of Hermione and Morag had been so deeply felt.
"It won't be in this book we will find a solution anyway." It was Nigel's turn to sigh with a disappointed mood. "And all the methods you found to be protected from a Basilisk were pretty...expensive?"
"You can say it, Nigel. They are ruinous." Alexandra remarked, trying to loosen her tightening fists. In a perfect world, the teachers and some of their fellow students would have helped financially get them rid of the Monster of Slytherin. But this was Hogwarts, and even their fellow Ravenclaws preferred to be deaf, blind and embrace a cowardly attitude when it came to the Heir of Slytherin.
"Yes...I don't think we have the gold for one of the plans you have made, never mind all of them." The admission was pronounced in an even lower tone, as a crack behind them of an ancient bookshelf resonated.
"That's right. On the other hand...all the gold in the world will not be of great use if we drop dead the next day."
There might be a small mountain of gold waiting in her trust vault by her standards, but it wouldn't be very useful if she didn't survive this year.
"You have a point."
"I'd rather not have one." Sighed the Potter Heiress. "Especially given what is against us."
Basilisk.
Alexandra had supposed that after Brise-Roc and confronting a gigantic Salamander from an unknown Hell head-on, there had been no magical animals left to frighten her in this world and the next.
Now she knew how naive it had been. The Monster of the Chamber of Secrets truly deserved its title.
Basilisk. The King of Serpents. The Bane of Moldavia. The Doom of the Aztecs. The Herald of Death. And a lot of nicknames and titles that were neither polite nor amusing to repeat in public.
Of the eighty-nine creatures types classed XXXXX by the International Confederation of Wizards, the colossal snake was one of the most dangerous in its own right. That was quite saying something, because to enter this category the animal had to be a known wizard-killer, be incredibly hard to slay for a battalion of conventional Aurors - or whatever the country's equivalent was – and be quasi-impossible to tame. If the thing was impossible to kill by mortal means, then it was a XXXXXX-class creature. The Basilisk avoided this latter category. Barely.
The fangs would have been bad enough. Covered in lethal venom which killed practically everything magical and non-magical living being in twenty-six seconds, the dentition of a Basilisk could have shamed a T-Rex. The only known antidote to the poison was Phoenix tears, and it was extremely debatable if it would do any good after the abomination had swallowed a leg or an arm of yours.
Second weapon was the deathly glare. Apparently the species of Medusa, a species created by Greek wizards having way too much free time for idiocies and develop their god-like ego, had had too much limitations for certain magical evil geniuses. The answer was the Basilisk. At maturity, the snake could control the sheer magical power of its eyes, and the victim would be stunned, petrified or killed depending on the Basilisk intention. At first, Alexandra had wondered why the 'stunned' capacity was important. The Potter Heiress now realised she could have lived with ignorance. The Basilisk loved its sustenance alive.
But the worst part was the too-many-times-forgotten scales of the monster. A Basilisk shed its skin once every couple of years and the new scales replacing the former were always more resistant to magical means. At fifty years of age, Basilisks had been known to survive point-blank Killing Curses, the lethal and impossible to parry Unforgiveable spell. A Middle Ages peasant armed with a pitchfork had more chances against a Basilisk than an Auror in his prime.
After that, the over-developed sense of smell was kind of unimpressive. Like the sharks, a Basilisk could smell a drop of blood, but at a distance of a hundred kilometres once mature. Goodbye surprise effect.
The beast had no hearing due to the Basilisk being a snake, but with its tongue the creature could detect any movements at incredible distances. That was not a surprise, but Alexandra would have preferred the King of Serpents had not all the strengths and none of the weaknesses of his smaller and non-magical cousins.
Oh, and its tail had barbed thorns which had been reported to shred steel and stone like it was paper.
In short, the Basilisk was perhaps not the ultimate killing machine of the Wizarding World...but if it was not then Alexandra had really no intention to see what was more redoubtable. According to Nigel, the Nundu was on the same level, but the feline species had not been created by mad wizards. It also could not kill you with a glance, and had never been sighted once in the vicinity of the United Kingdom.
Though with our chance in this school I wouldn't bet against one for next year. What's next? Dragons? Vampires? Werewolves?
"The eyes...it's the eyes that are the problem." Remarked absently Alexandra.
"And the fangs? The poison? Or the thorns?" The voice of her Gryffindor friend was dry enough to sunder Middle Earth twice over.
"Those can be avoided if you stay at long distance of this monster." Alexandra grimaced internally as she affirmed that sentence. 'Stay at long distance'. Hell. The safe distance for a Basilisk was a continent away, not a mile or two. She had spent a lot of sleepless nights since the disastrous Quidditch match thinking a Basilisk was nearby. "No it's the eyes that are the problem. One look and it's over. I suppose it would be too much to ask for a famous legendary Auror in the active roster of the British Isles to be blind?"
"Well, there's this crazy paranoid Auror named 'Mad Eye' Moody. I think."
"I heard of him when I searched the Daily Prophet archives. Is he that good?"
Of course the nickname Mad Eye was not a good sign...
"Rumour is half of the Azkaban inmates are here because of him." Murmured the auburn-haired boy.
I wonder if it means he is that good or the other Aurors were so pathetic...
"Never mind." Said the black-haired girl after searching during ten minutes a few papers of the Daily Prophet published in the early 1980s. "If our favourite biased newspaper can be trusted, the man has never been blind, he just lost one eye. Moreover, Auror Moody replaced his missing eye with a magical one. This Auror would likely be petrified like the other victims, and he has likely never trained to fight without his eyes."
"So back to the beginning? Most of the enchanted objects created by famous enchanters are useless against a Basilisk gaze."
"But there is one we could be able to use. The Eye of Horus, jewel of the Pharaohs of old."
"Alex, we have no chance to convince the Egyptian government to give it us. It's one of their most famous treasures!"
And one of the most powerful, thought the black-haired Ravenclaw. The Eye was a formidable piece of magic, giving its owner incredible defensive powers. And the only drawback was that it had to recharge at the light of the sun. Having it for their fight against the Basilisk would make the battle a walk-over...and the chances of obtaining it were close to zero.
"You're right. You're right. But it is the only one that can be used with no major inconveniences. The other two are Dark Artefacts, specifically created to be wielded by Dark Wizards. The Bloody Draconite and the Galdrabok."
The two names were already repugnant. The description of their powers discovered in an old book of the artefacts section was worse. The Bloody Draconite was a creation of Romanian wizards, which in theory had been able to protect its wielder from any magical and non-magical attack. Forged by a concoction of alchemical origin and the beating heart of a dragon, the creation had done exactly what it had been created for. There had been a minor catch, however. The Bloody Draconite wanted human blood in exchange for the protection demanded. And the more, the merrier. If the attacks parried were growing in power, then the cursed artefact wanted more blood. Whether the wielder gave his own or took it from other bodies did not matter. It 'just' had to be human blood. Rivers of blood. Some pretended it was able to stop the Killing Curse, at the price of depopulating entire towns.
The Galdrabok was an Icelandic forgotten book, whose legend told it contained spell able to anything the reader wished. It did not look so bad...until the fact it was composed of human wizard's skins and written in witches' blood. Reading it caused a permanent loss of sanity.
All two methods had been used with success against a Basilisk in the past, in the Bloody Draconite's case the dark alchemic invention had been deliberately created to combat said threat. Each time the Dark Wizard that had dared take used it had been killed by his own government moments after his victory over the King of Snakes. Never mind that said politicians had done nothing to stop the XXXXX creature.
"And these Dark Wizards are not the grey-dark wizards the Ministry is so concerned about. You have to darken your very soul to use these kinds of heirlooms."
"Not worth the price." Dark Magic may give terrible offensive powers but Alexandra wanted to enjoy life and what came after. "We can't use them, and they have not been seen in centuries. It's a dead end. Unless you believe a rooster can do the job?"
Both the Gryffindor boy and the Ravenclaw snorted. The legend a rooster could kill a Basilisk still persisted after hundreds of centuries, no matter the evidence against. Usually it resulted in giving a nice breakfast to the Monster before it went killing more wizards.
But then the Basilisk was not something born from the unnatural union of a toad and a chicken. The King of Snakes was the sum of horrific experiences in crossbreeding between the most dangerous species of snakes supported by incubators created by dark alchemy.
It went without saying that if Salazar Slytherin was alive, the Potter Heiress would kill him directly for having the temerity to dabble in these atrocious experiments.
"What we need is time...my father will receive our letter." Nigel spoke again. "So will Morag's parents. They will have a solution."
"I don't share your optimism. It has been nearly a month, Nigel."
"I know. But owls aren't intercepted, and your Atalanta is a smart owl. I'm sure she would have noticed if someone tried to steal the letters."
"The courier arrives every morning does not mean owls aren't intercepted. Not every disruption can be seen by a naked eye."
Alexandra had the very bad feeling the formidable wards of Hogwarts, unable to counter the threat of the dreaded Basilisk, were now used for something far more sneaky and underhanded, preventing the Ministry and concerned parents to intervene in the school in danger. The main suspect would have been Dumbledore months ago. But the Chief Warlock was not here. Perhaps it was the Heir or another of his accomplices.
"I don't know why they haven't answered our letters though I have my suspicions. But one thing is sure: we don't have months."
An ambiance of terror had developed inside Hogwarts walls after the attacks of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match. The new series of petrifactions by itself would have been largely enough to make the younger students shiver; the large magical demonstration on the Quidditch Pitch was a power-play of a different level altogether.
In front of the gathered Professors, the persons acting in the name of the Heir had planned and executed an impressive attack...and they had gotten away with it.
The students were not scared anymore by the Heir. They were completely and utterly terrified.
The teachers had tried reassuring words the whole day and the week after, in pure loss. To be fair, the intervention of the Minister of Magic Fudge had probably quite something to do with it.
Six days after the attack, on Saturday evening, the highest government official of the British Ministry had entered the Hall to deliver the 'good news'.
A suspect in the case of the Chamber of Secrets had been arrested. At first they had been a slim hope in their hearts but then they had learned the 'suspect' was none other than the Keeper of the Keys, Rubeus Hagrid. In the next days, Alexandra had been unable to say if it was at that moment or shortly after that she had understood the wizard at the top of the Ministry hierarchy was a complete moron. It was not supposed to be a surprise, but the Wizengamot was indeed so jealous of its power that the most influent Houses had chosen a perfect imbecile for the job.
Headmaster Dumbledore had been suspended 'temporarily' of his functions, in a rarely unanimous move of the Board of Governors. Rumours that Lord Malfoy had arrived to this outcome by blackmail and threat had been ignored. Professor McGonagall had been named as temporary Headmistress for the interim crisis. A full squad of Aurors had been stationed in the school itself, patrolling and searching the school for dark heirlooms and the Heir of Slytherin. All of this news had been pronounced with a big smile and the "certain assurance", in the Minister own words, that this crisis was over.
There had been no more attacks signed in blood-like substances or bearing the Slytherin insignia from that moment. There was no need to.
Most of the liberties taken for granted in a school were now gone, and Hogwarts had transformed into something part-prison and part-dictatorship. The only places the students had now the right to be were the dorms, the Common Room of their own House, the library, the classrooms and the Great Hall. And to go from one to another, they had to be escorted at all times by a Professor.
Quidditch matches had been cancelled. Clubs had been cancelled. The Hogwarts choir had been cancelled. Studying on its own in abandoned classroom was no longer possible. Walking alone on the Hogwarts grounds was no longer authorised. It was anybody's estimate how long it would take before going to the toilets with an adult supervising was the norm.
"What we need is a plan."
"I have one." Said sombrely Alexandra. A plan which frankly had been done in a hurry and in anger when she had watched Madam Pomfrey take away the petrified bodies of Morag and Hermione.
"Besides killing half of Slytherin House, and let magic sort them out." The auburn-haired boy précised.
"Don't defend them, Nigel. Do you hear them speaking in classes and in the Great Hall?"
If one had believed the Slytherins had been arrogant before the attacks, then the aftermath had seen them rise to new levels of bigotry and idiocy in their quest for pure-blood supremacy.
Where before only one or two idiots like Draco Malfoy had been willing to speak the word 'Mudblood' in public, almost two-thirds of the House was now telling slurs and various insults to whoever they thought was a 'Mudblood', a 'blood-traitor' or 'a half-blood bint that has no place among us'.
The rapport of strength in Slytherin House had been changed overnight. For the worse and for the worst.
More worrying, the majority of the teachers did not punish them for these insults and veiled threats. Professors Flitwick, Dhillon and Sprout did: for example at the last class of Charms over three weeks of detention had been distributed to the second-years Snakes and fifty House points lost. But they were the exception, not the rule.
Tiroflan, Porchester, Sinistra, Agarkar and Reed sometimes took points and detentions, but rarely stopped in the corridors unless the duel of words escalated to physical or magical violence. For the History section, no one had expected anything else, but the refusal of the rest of the staff to enforce discipline and generally do their job was really heart-breaking.
McGonagall was equally as useless: she punished everyone involved in these arguments, which sounded a very reasonable policy: Alexandra and Nigel had had following Tuesday lunch to console a first-year Hufflepuff girl that had just been told by a third-year Slytherin 'if your parents had a bit dignity, they would have drowned you in a well at birth'. When the girl had tried to punch her much bigger opponent in the face, McGonagall had arrived and started distributing detentions. Alexandra had only been too happy to teach the first-year two nasty hexes when the useless Head of Gryffindor had turned her back.
And the Slytherin Professors did not bother reprimanding their charges. Snape and Whitehead removed points and gave detentions...to all Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff involved. Alexandra had never shared the deep distaste the Gryffindors had for their Potions Professors, but she was evolving towards that point. Snape wasn't punishing his bigot students sprouting a racist agenda...good example for the young generations, no?
Do someone in this school is realising where it's going?
Hogwarts had become a place where everyone was ready to flee or draw the wand at any moment.
The Aurors, far from stopping this paranoia, were thriving and encouraging it. Of course, half of them were former Slytherins, so it wasn't that out of the magical norms.
"Let's take a step and say the Professors have abandoned the idea of solving the problem, and are waiting the end of the year to fill their trunks. Some may leave permanently."
Not that it would be a bad thing in some cases.
"Maybe we will have to do the same thing, Alex."
"With a Basilisk stalking us? Oh, definitely." Waking up every morning and taking the risk of meeting a King of the Snakes at every corner was a bit too risky for her. The Potter heiress smiled. "But the points I told once about foreign schools still stand. So we will try my plan first. We can always try the transfer to Beauxbatons as plan B."
"And what is your plan A?" Nigel's voice was heavy with scepticism.
"Plan A is buying the beast we spoke about yesterday. I can pay for it...though I will not say no to a refund of yours."
"Well, admitting your...audacious plan work, Alex, I will convince my father to pay you the sum due. But that leaves the Basilisk only blinded. How do you intent to kill it?"
It was a fair point. Even blinded the Basilisk would still have the venom, the thorns and the rest of its nightmarish arsenal to kill them.
"The sword that I took from the goblin arsenal of Brise-Roc should do the job. Glamdring will be our ace to slay the King of Snakes."
"Risky. You have not tested it."
Alexandra chuckled at that remark. Since there was about one Basilisk in the totality of Europe right now – one guess where it was living – testing if a weapon was able to slay a Basilisk or not was a bit complicated.
"No, but unless I'm missing something, my blade has some proprieties of Goblin Steel. If it isn't enough to shred the Basilisk scales, it is likely nothing will."
"Can we not take other weapons?"
Alexandra fixed the list of books she had read from first to last page in the hope of finding an alternative.
"Oh sure, we can try the normal swords and weapons carried by Hogwarts statues, but I doubt there will do much good. Otherwise there are only four options. There is the Sword of Gryffindor. The Sky Bow of Rowena Ravenclaw. The Jewelled Dagger of Salazar Slytherin. And the Axe of Helga Hufflepuff." Alexandra rolled her eyes and added as an after-thought. "All lost for more than a thousand years."
"Very useful." Nigel rolled his eyes in turn.
"I'm not responsible for the fact the Founders descendants weren't able to keep their affairs in order." Shrugged the green-eyed witch.
"No. And buying Goblin Steel..."
"A sword of this metal cost in the tens thousands of Galleons."
Nigel frowned. Alexandra didn't blame him. The young witch knew metals goblin-enchanted had to cost a fortune, but it had been an abstract thing. After a short series of question with Flitwick, the abstract had become clearer. Weapons forged by Gringotts were so expensive that pre-war House Potter would have had difficulties requesting their services. Right at this moment, it wasn't an option anymore.
"We are going to need allies, if only to defeat the allies of the Heir."
"Our Slytherin...allies...will not be able to stand with us. And this time I can't blame them."
In most normal circumstances, standing against your own House was not fun at all. The black-haired witch had long noticed the bullied at Privet Drive and Hogwarts had a tendency to curb the head and let the sleeping dragons where they were. A House had to appear united. Those who broke the rule regretted it sooner or later.
With Hogwarts as it was, standing against your own House in the Viper's Den was risking your life. Lyre de Male-Foi had accepted to give the two Exiled precious information under the table, and Alexandra had profusely thanked the first-year Slytherin for it. Greengrass, Davis and Zabini, on the other hand, acted like they had never engaged a non-Slytherin in all their lives.
Sometimes, the reliability of the English pure-bloods sucked. A lot. And yes, Lyre was French while Morag was Irish. The irony was not lost on her.
"We could convince the Ravenclaws and the two other Houses to demolish the Snake leaders."
"Pre-emptive strike against the Death Eaters in training, you mean?"
Nigel reluctantly nodded. It would have been a good strategy...if her fellow housemates had something in their hearts that the Gryffindors called 'courage'.
"And how would we incite them to do that? It could work...if we knew all the Slytherin leaders and my own House could be trusted to act."
"Lyre gave you a lot of names."
"Yes, she did, and don't think I'm not thankful." Alexandra paused. "But the names she gave are all the most vocal and purist imbeciles of the dungeons. There is no way that any of them is the mastermind behind the attacks."
"Really?"
"I did my research, Nigel. I am a Ravenclaw."
"Of course, of course."
A series of parchments was grabbed out of her school bag, before forming a pile on the library table.
"Let's begin by the worst. Lewis Wilkes, last of the Wilkes line. Already condemned for three attacks on Muggles in the last two years. Only the fact the victims were of non-magical background and the wealth in his family vaults allowed him to keep his wand. In my opinion, Wilkes should be at Azkaban right now. How Dumbledore allowed him to go back to Hogwarts for his last years, I haven't the slightest idea."
Lewis Wilkes was more or less the proof that Wizengamot families had been granted too much power when the ancient Council of Wizards had been founded centuries ago. The green-eyed girl passed to the second parchment.
"Thomson Carrow, the Heir of the Carrow family. I thought Hestia and Flora in our year were sadists and insane, but they may be the sane ones. There are rumours everywhere this sixth-year snake is regularly frequenting the dirtiest places of Knockturn Alley, and not for the thrill of walking in its streets. Never went in front of a judge, the proofs have a tendency to disappear at the first bag of Galleons."
Third parchment. Third grimace.
"Jared Miller, the Heir of the Miller family. Not a criminal in the British Isles, but there is an arrest warrant for him in Albania..."
"Certainly his family wanted to have...fun..." The face of Nigel was very pale.
"Death Eaters?"
"Never proved."
"Figures."
It was really appalling to know many of these Houses had practised these awful activities for decades and maybe longer. If the Ministry had had some guts, they would have sent all these assassins and criminals to Azkaban, and the world would have been a better place.
"The rest of the probable suspects are in a lesser league. Cassius Warrington. Graham Montague. Dermot Ardoch. Berrow, Lament, Rosier, Nott and plenty of other families having been noted in the past to have Death Eaters sympathies."
Alexandra widened her lips to make a half-grimace half-smile.
"Slytherin is really a cesspit of evil and darkness." Concluded the green-eyed witch.
"And you really intend to...do something drastic about them?"
"Nigel. These boys seem to believe petrifying our friends and considering us animals is perfectly acceptable. If they begin to send Unforgivables, I am not going to reply with Expelliarmus and Petrificus Totalus."
The library section went completely silent as the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw eyes were fixed on each other, and some laughter of the other second-year students were heard in the distance.
"What if you started the enigma in the wrong sense of the term, Alex?" Demanded her friend after half a minute.
"What do you mean?"
"The reason all these persons have been attacked."
"Nigel, they've been attacked because-"
"-because they're 'Mudbloods', 'dirty Half-Bloods' and 'blood-traitors', yes we've been over that for hours. But why them in particular?"
"Because the Heir could target them easily?"
The Heir had profited from the Quidditch Matches, their aftermath or the Halloween Feast. Her theory had been that the Monster had struck whoever was available on these days.
"I don't think so. Look, some attacks have taken place on the second floor, but the other are dispersed all over the castle. I think the Heir targeted precisely every victim."
"That...doesn't make any sense."
Though it would explain why so few students had been petrified on the first attacks.
"You're the Ravenclaw. Logic is your domain."
"Touché. But that still doesn't make any sense."
"Assuming your theory the Heir attacked every victim because they represented a potential danger to him, Filch is easy to explain. Our lovely caretaker and his cat know a lot of secret passages and patrol very aggressively the corridors on night and day. Removing him is easy to explain."
"You see..."
Alexandra had not finished her reasoning however.
"But if Filch is easy to explain, the others are not. I suppose the Heir could have chosen Hermione and Morag because they did research on the Monster and the genealogy of the extinct Slytherin line."
"Yeah, about that..."
"What is done is done." Alexandra shrugged. "There is no turning back right now. But why Creevey? This photograph-lover Lion was rude and impolite in the extreme...but he was so focused in Neville Longbottom, that...well, you know..."
"Yes, I know."
Colin Creevey moves to stalk the Boy-Who-Lived had been strange, and many older years thought the apprentice in photography was going to declare his love for the Longbottom Heir before he was petrified. Apparently same-sex relationships were far better considered than they were in the non-magical world.
"Luna Lovegood. Why target her?" Asked the Ravenclaw twelve-years old to herself, both hands on her forehead.
"One of her bullies?"
"No. Not enough intelligence there." Alexandra was not kidding. Cho Chang might be pretty and lead her group of third-years girl, but in term of raw magical power and brains, she wasn't by far the smartest of the Ravenclaw. Putting in her place the Asian girl had not been difficult. Alexandra had not been happy after Hermione and Morag were petrified, and the revelations of bullying had not put her in a better mood. Unfortunately for Chang, Lightning spells had become a specialty for her...and they were really useful conveying her displeasure.
"Why Justin Finch-Fletchey? The only thing I remember is that his family is old money in the non-magical world. Besides Justin is fairly sympathetic to everyone save the Slytherins... Why Penelope Clearwater? She's one of the few Prefects that bother doing their job correctly at Hogwarts."
"Penelope was going out with Percy Weasley." Revealed Nigel.
"A means to hurt a Gryffindor? That sounds like a Slytherin plot...in fact no. I doubt any Slytherin girl would want to date a Weasley, or a Slytherin boy to date Penelope."
"Sorry, I was so sure..."
"No need to apologise Nigel. You were right at least on one thing, we didn't study the background of the victims. Any common point on the three Gryffindor girls that were attacked during the match?"
"Well there are all first-years...they are sleeping in the same dorm..."
"Pardon?"
For the first time of their study, Alexandra was stunned. Why had they not thought about something so evident? They had searched the Heir of Slytherin in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and of course Slytherin. But they had ignored Gryffindor. Because surely a Lion couldn't be an ally of the Snakes, no?
"Err, yes. Why? Is that's interesting?"
"Depends. Who else is in the same dorm?"
"I have not all the names..."
"Please, Nigel...it is important!"
If they had to waste new inquiries in the Gryffindor tower, they would be sure to alert the Heir. After a few seconds of reflexion, Nigel gave her the name.
"Ginny Weasley."
"SHIT!"
"Why do-oh, no. You think?"
"I think the girl is the Heir or someone is usurping her identity? Yes, I am. Remember what you told me during the Quidditch match? Lovegoods and Weasley live in the same village! So if her best friend began to change in behaviour, I think even a strange girl like Luna Lovegood would notice the differences."
"And the others?"
Alexandra took a moment to collect her thoughts.
"Creevey takes photos of everything. Maybe he stalked her at a moment the Heir was under a different appearance...then he had to be neutralised. Penelope is a fair Prefect; she cares about all the first-years and helps them when they're lost in the castle. If she tried to help the false Ginny at a moment the Chamber was about to open..."
"Justin?"
"Justin is friends with a lot of Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs share everything in news for the Hogwarts rumour mill. The first-year girls would have noticed if someone tried to do dark magic or something weird in their own dorm."
"By Merlin...it fits."
Alexandra felt excitation make her heart faster. After countless hours in researches they had resolved the mystery.
"Do we confront Ginny or whoever is passing for her?"
"No. Or rather, not yet. We need allies."
Given the fate which had befallen every student close to the 'Heir', prudence was recommended. Since Morag and Hermione were petrified, Nigel and she were the last forces left in reserve. If they were defeated and petrified, there would be no one left to act.
"Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors?"
"Neither. I think it's time to involve the Professors and give their chance."
"They have refused to act...and they know certainly more than they told us."
"Flitwick will help us...and I think it's time to verify how much of a fraud our DADA Professor really is." The smile of Alexandra was larger this time. They would need preparation to corner him but one way or another she was going to have answers. "It's time I have a conversation with the true Gilderoy Lockhart."
Nigel grinned in turn. The Cornish Pixies had never been forgotten.
"What will be the code name of the operation between us? The enemy certainly can change appearance at will..."
Alexandra eyes posed on the monstrous picture of the Basilisk.
"If we cut the head of the snake, the body will die. This will be Operation Kingslayer."
21st March 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
Gilderoy Lockhart smile was very much in abeyance as he emptied the rest of the Firewhiskey bottle in his crystal glass. Taking the later, he emptied it in one gulp and sighed as the alcohol diffused its warmth in his body.
Spy work, he had learned early in his job, could be very unpleasant. You were surrounded constantly by enemies, you could trust no one and most of the times whatever duelling abilities you possessed were completely irrelevant. Gilderoy had thought Hogwarts would be a hard environment, but one he could survive by maintaining his 'narcissist imbecile' persona at all times. It had been obvious Dumbledore had not bothered asking himself if the Lockhart he despised was a mask or not. And the Supreme Mugwump had always been the main danger, with the pet Death Eater serving as Potions Professor a distant second.
But no. Hogwarts was truly a lot of things, but an exemplary school it was not. Students were attacked right and left, wards were activated to prevent the Ministry from intervening and a Monster roamed in the corridors.
The DADA Professor threw a glare at the dozens of portraits of himself spread over his office. This assignment had ceased to be funny long ago and the bigotry of the pure-blood factions had returned in power. It was getting too dangerous for him. He was a spy, not a fighter and while he was far more trained than Dumbledore or the other Professors suspected, his rather lacklustre performance in duelling was a huge drawback.
Truly, he would leave this castle without any regret. His trunks were packed every morning and the sensitive information he had collected was already in the hands of his superiors. Now he just needed to find the good moment to escape. Given the general behaviour of the fraud he was supposed to be, no one would be surprised to hear he had made his escape.
He was sorry for the students, but his sympathy did not overwrite his allegiance and his will to live.
When it came to it after all, he had absolutely no chance against a Basilisk.
23rd March 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
Ginny Weasley opened her eyes. Yawning widely, the red-haired first-year came out of her bed, glancing at her window and noticing the sun had still not risen.
Grumbling against the nightmares that disturbed her sleep and stopped her from enjoying a few more hours of sleep, the eleven-year old get rid of the heavy red blankets and stood. The dorm of the first-year girls was peaceful, with no sound coming from the other beds since their owners were petrified at the infirmary. Yawning again, the young witch marched to the showers with a towel, her soap and her wand.
The growing pain in her chest appeared without any warning. Gasping, the soap and the towel escaped her hands to fall on the floor. Her arms ached and didn't answer anymore. Her legs twisted under her, and it was a downing sensation as the youngest sibling of the Weasley family saw herself falling on her knees. Her back hurt. All her body was in pain. Everything hurt so much. She screamed and moaned in pain. No, she tried. Unexpectedly, her pleas weren't leaving her lips anymore. What was happening to her? She tried to move her arms. Nothing.
With growing fear, Ginny realised her body wasn't answering anymore. The legs, the head, nothing. She was prostrated on the dorms floor, and was unable to do anything.
And then finally the pain stood. Ginny tried to move her arm...and nothing happened.
No, no, no. It's a nightmare, isn't it? It's a nightmare...
"It's not a nightmare."
Ginny's body stood with grace, and in a silent yell the young Gryffindor realised she had lost control of her muscles. Forced in the back of her mind as a spectator, Ginny screamed as the force controlling her body marched to the bathroom and faced the mirror, ignoring her imprecations.
"So loud." The tone of the thing controlling her mouth and the rest of her body was amused."I wonder how I waited to deal with you all these months." The wand went in her right hand and was pointed directly above her heart.
"Umbra Maleficus Illusio."
A ray of red-blackish light struck her.
The youngest Weasley screamed. Or at least she did in her mind, as her body still wasn't answering to her commands. Facing directly the mirror, it was evident her body was changing. Her red hair turned blonde. Not Malfoy-blonde, but the kind of pure blonde colour the French models on Fred and George's boys magazines had. Her eyes took a stunning light violet colour. All her traits were transfigured to take a far refined and noble appearance.
"Perfect." Declared the thing controlling her.
It was her body...and yet it wasn't. The unknown girl now seen in the mirror had some facial similarities to her own, that was true. The form of the jaw, the shape of the eyebrows...those were her own. But the cheekbones, the lips, the eyes and half of her visage had been twisted into something...different.
It was not Ginny Weasley who watched herself in this mirror. It was an arrogant, beautiful and dangerous witch, with a very satisfied expression on her visage.
"Don't worry, Ginevra." The voice which came from these lips was not her own. "This is my body, now...I promise you it will thrive in the service of the Dark."
You will not get away with this.
"I think I will." Smiled the...the new girl reflected in the mirror. Who instantly let down Ginny nightgown and let the only daughter of Ginny Weasley admire the changes on all her body, making her blush internally. Her body was literally...enthralling. Hips, legs, chest. Like her visage and her hair, everything of the new girl had modified her body to make it more muscled and desirable. The new appearance was worthy of a fashion model. "Who will save you? Dumbledore is gone, and my Master is going to take care of the Boy-Who-Lived."
Neville will destroy you.
"Oh, no. The Heir of Slytherin awaits him...and I am his Herald. Slytherin House is going to rule Hogwarts like it should have done from the very beginning."
What sort of monster are you?
"My name is Scylla Persephone Yaxley. I am the witch you have always chained inside yourself. The power and the skills your mediocrity has wasted during the first ten years of your life. But no more."
You are not me. You will never be me!
"Time to sleep forever, Ginevra. Ginevra. Seriously what sort of mother thinks of such a ridiculous name?"
And then there was only darkness.
