Author's note: The end of the year is near and my birthday comes tomorrow, so this chapter is coming today instead of early January. MasterQwertster betaed this chapter, don't hesitate to thank her.
Fair warning, this chapter is not light and has a lot of violence in it. With it, the great arc of the Chamber of Secrets finds its conclusion. According to my notes, there should be between two and three chapters before we finish second year.
Chapter 40
The Heir, the Herald and the Monster
Battle for the Chamber of Secrets Part II
11 April 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
The day had started very badly for Neville Longbottom and the rest of Gryffindor House. What should have been a normal Sunday - well a Sunday where they weren't authorised to do anything outside of their Common Room and the library given the new regulations – had rapidly unfolded into disaster.
Ginny - Ron's little sister - had been missing at breakfast and when Neville, Leo and Ron had informed the Twins of this absence, the tension had commenced to rise. The youngest of the Weasley family was not in the Gryffindor tower, she wasn't in the library – not that they had expected to find her anywhere – and George had gone back to the dormitories to use the Marauder's Map, the name of his little sister had not shown anywhere.
The Gryffindors had been sufficiently alarmed to alert the Professors but on their way to the teacher's lounge they had noticed the horrid message painted in red on the walls.
HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER
Hearing the noise of footsteps, the new Marauders had hidden themselves in a broom closet and heard Professor McGonagall discover the message.
They had listened to the powerful Sonorus commanding all the students to go back to their Common Rooms. And they had obeyed, not because they had suddenly become fond of the rules but because they needed help.
Their adventure in the Forbidden Forest under Hagrid's advice had let them guess the monster of the Chamber was a Basilisk, the redoubtable and monstrous King of Serpents. Only this beast was capable to plunge a colony of Acromantulas in unbridled fear.
The big problem they hadn't been able to solve was the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets until yesterday, when Leo had remarked that since a girl had died fifty years ago, maybe she was still haunting the castle. Hogwarts was one of the most magical sites in Britain, and the possibility was high of an innocent leaving an imprint behind after her death. There was only one candidate meeting these criteria: Moaning Myrtle, a sad ghost haunting the outdated toilets of the second-floor...which by a curious coincidence were terribly close to the sites of several attacks.
This had to be the entrance of the Chamber, and with Neville himself being a Parselmouth, they had the means to enter the Chamber and stop the Heir. Parselmouth or not, this evil wizard was not going to gloat when he confronted the wrath of House Gryffindor! Rapidly they had constituted a rescue force. Leo, Ron, Seamus, Dean, Fred, George, Percy and he were going to fight the Heir of Slytherin.
There had been more volunteers of course, but the students of Gryffindor House had only a very limited supply of magical glasses to counter the death glare of the monster. Eight Gryffindors would have to do against the Heir of Slytherin and his monstrous Basilisk.
They had only reached the sixth floor when they had been attacked by Slytherins disguised as Death Eaters. Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague had thought it was a fun time to prove that the time of pure-blood supremacy was at hand. At eight against two however, defeating them had been child's play. Evidently these idiots had not thought a large group of students was going to stand against them. The two fourth-years Snakes had been Stunned and bound with conjured ropes, then left in an abandoned classroom. When they came back from the Chamber, Neville would have the great pleasure of presenting them to Professor Dumbledore and being a witness at their expulsion trial. Let them try the Imperius defence like their parents! Hogwarts was not under Ministry jurisdiction and Dumbledore was not one of the easily corruptible politicians the Dark had in their pocket.
Nonetheless it had been worrying. They had expected to fight the Heir and his Monster when they went to save Ginny, but now it seemed some Slytherins were involved in these evil plans. The Heir of House Longbottom had been about to call an improvised council to change their plans a bit when terrible sounds of battle and atrocious hisses had resonated in the corridors. Thanks to the Twins whose knowledge of the castle was second-to-none, finding the place where all this chaos was happening was child's play.
The Flowers and Fountain's courtyard on the third floor was a place where Lavender and Parvati enjoyed meeting their fellow gossipers. Neville and certainly all the other Gryffindors crossed it at least twice per week.
What they saw with their astounded eyes at their arrival was not a courtyard but a ruin. The statues, the fountain, the flower structures, the archway...everything had been ravaged and destroyed. It was like a war had been fought and lost here.
But the true horror was lying at the centre of this battlefield. It was long, maybe fifty feet of dark green scales. A monstrous head he had no doubt they were going to have nightmares of for the rest of the month. Spines going all over the back, a barbed tail and a maw full of awfully big fangs.
The Basilisks were the very stuff of horror stories in the world witches and wizards lived in. Now seeing one with his own eyes, the Heir of House Longbottom knew why and shivered. Equipped with anti-petrifaction glasses or not, he was not that sure they would have won against this Monster. Eight allies was a fine number, but the Basilisk was really massive; an army might not have been enough to kill it.
But the girl standing in front of them had apparently done it, alone and unsupported. And a lifeless Slytherin disguised in Death Eater robes was immobile next to her.
"Potter. What have you done?" Neville could not stop his voice from shaking a bit. Had the Ravenclaw become as treacherous and insane as her father?
Alexandra Potter turned her head to fix their rescue force with a stare and it was then Neville realised the lamentable state of the Potter Heiress. Her hair was completely dishevelled and full of debris and rubble. The visage of the Ravenclaw was extremely dirty too, dust, tears and other fluids having left their trace. The school robe she was wearing was torn apart, soiled beyond salvage and pierced in dozens of places. Under this, her strange accoutrement - which had to be Muggle by the looks of it - was ravaged and revealed many small wounds. And all of this was covered in a red-black liquid that was certainly blood.
That and the gigantic bat that was perched on her shoulder was not exactly projecting a better atmosphere.
The Exiled Queen feigned to think about the question a few seconds before opening her mouth to answer.
"What these incompetent of teachers of ours should have done long ago?"
Neville felt the disapproval spread from Percy like a tempest. The Twins on the other hand looked rather amused by someone sharing their disdain for the adults.
"You killed him, didn't you?" asked the oldest Weasley, pointing his wand towards the boy in Death Eater robes.
"As a matter of fact I didn't." The tone used by Alexandra Potter was not showing any satisfaction, but there was no remorse in it either.
"Liar!" shouted Ron.
"I don't lie, Ronald Weasley. This Death Eater wasn't killed by my hand."
It was rather strange. The black-haired second-year was the only survivor in the middle of the ruins so this made her the only potential murderer. Unless someone had managed to escape before their arrival?
"He's not a Death Eater, he's just a Slytherin disguised in the robes of his parents." corrected Leo. "And what do you mean 'this Death Eater'?"
"I met four others of his ilk before the Basilisk. One of them escaped but I caught the other three."
And the tone she used to say 'caught' left little doubt about the fate of said Snakes. Neville felt sick. Three wizards dead, just like this. The day before they had all been eating together in the Great Hall and now they were killing themselves. In the name of Merlin, what sort of madness was happening in Ravenclaw and Slytherin Houses?
"Are you mad? You killed students!"
"I killed Death Eaters." corrected the black-haired girl. There was no regret in her voice.
"You're completely mad, Potter," whispered Leo.
"Am I? If these students wear Death Eater clothes, are marked like Death Eaters and throw Unforgivables and Dark Curses like there is no tomorrow, then I will treat them like the murderous scum they are."
And to give weight to her words, the Ravenclaw witch magically unrolled the sleeves of the dead Slytherin. Effectively, one of his arms had a sort of weird Dark Mark tattooed on it. It looked a bit incomplete, but the skull and the snake were eminently recognisable.
"The Wizengamot will never agree with you." Whispered Seamus, but his voice lacked confidence. For that matter, Neville wasn't feeling too well either. They had not thought to check Warrington or Montague for the Dark Mark. Why would they have? Voldemort was still a wraith according to Professor Dumbledore and had certainly returned to Albania. His most dangerous supporters were imprisoned at Azkaban or 'regretting' their past mistakes. There was no one to brand them with the Dark Mark or one of the early versions used decades ago.
"Funny fact, they don't need to agree with my actions. Some of the anti-Death Eater laws introduced by the DMLE Director of the last war have never been repealed. In addition, they have shot Unforgivables at me. I can plead legitimate defence, they attacked me with lethal force and all their wands will confirm it."
Neville felt suddenly ill at these words. Technically and practically, the Ravenclaw girl was right. There were loopholes authorising the recourse of lethal force against Death Eaters, and Potter as part of the House of the Wise must have studied them.
The irony was so painful it wasn't funny anymore. The Longbottom heir was quite sure nobody in the Wizengamot had expected the daughter of a Death Eater to use these edicts for her own advantage.
While they were debating, Fred Weasley –or was it George? - closed the distance and removed the silver mask with a quick Attraction Charm. The visage of an older black-haired Slytherin with pale skin was revealed.
"I recognise him, he's in my year." affirmed Percy. "His name is Oliver Nairne."
"Third in line for the lordship of the Ancient House of Nairne." declared Potter with a grimace. "He has a cousin or two at Azkaban and his father died for Voldemort at the end of the war."
"You're going to be in trouble." Remarked George –or was it Fred?
"I didn't kill this one." The flashing green eyes of the Potter Heiress were not exactly warming and friendly. "And even if I did, he tried to kill me so it's not like he's an innocent lamb. When he got the idea that the murder of Muggle-borns and their descendants was acceptable, he should have figured someone was going to strike back."
Ron looked lost at that remark, but Leo and Neville knew what she was talking about. James Potter may have been a spy of the Death Eaters, but Alexandra's mother was a Muggle-born. From the evidence they had, the green-eyed girl had just decided where her allegiances laid.
Maybe there's still a chance for House Potter to be brought back into the Light after all.
"Fine. We haven't the time for all this debate."
"Indeed brother of mine." said Fred.
"Time is kicking and we must go to the Chamber."
"Rescuing Ginny is our priority."
"You're coming with us?" ended both mouths in the coordinated voice that made them so funny and irritating.
"One second."
The black-haired Ravenclaw turned back and marched to the Basilisk...before drawing from its lower jaw a bloody sword.
So that's how she slew the Monster of Slytherin.
There was however a point he didn't understand. Most low-level enchanted weapons were useless against the XXXXX-class creatures. And the Basilisk was perhaps one of the most dangerous in this category.
"By my magic and my sword, this Basilisk has been slain. In the name of House Potter, I, Alexandra Victoria Potter, claim the corpse of this Basilisk and all the spoils going with it. By the Powers of blood, magic and war, so mote it be. Is there anyone who wants to challenge my claim?"
The flow of magic which suddenly erupted made Neville shiver and he wasn't the only one. The ancient Claim of Conquest was older than memory and in general was never used by the wizards and witches of today. It was too dangerous. Sure it made your claim of slaying a magical beast near unassailable...but this was an Old Way. A Dark Way. Something pushing his own magic to the fore and burning him to answer the ancient words...he pushed it back inside him. He didn't want the Dark Lady of Ravenclaw to turn her weapons against him.
The magic had a powerful effect, this remained incontestable. All the blood covering the blade of Potter was vaporised into a thin red mist, revealing the shining silver underneath.
"Fragarach!" shouted Percy. "Potter throw it away! It's a cursed blade!"
But the girl just...laughed?
"I am very curious how you found my sword's name when I wasn't able to." Green eyes the very colour of the Killing Curse narrowed before fixing another point like it had no great importance. "I doubt my sword is cursed. I have used it so much that if a curse was on it, it must be one making me live through pretty interesting situations!"
"The sword is known by another name."
"Which is?"
"Clarent." murmured the eldest Weasley studying at Hogwarts. "It's the sword-"
"-Which killed Arthur." finished Leo.
"Fascinating." replied the Potter Heiress with a voice and an expression telling them she could really care less about holding a Dark and very cursed centuries-old blade. "But since it is pretty much the most powerful weapon I have at my disposal, I think I am going to hold on to it until the drawbacks outweigh its advantages."
"You will regret it." said Seamus, unknowingly echoing Neville when they had clashed with the Ravenclaw during the winter months.
"No, I won't." The smile baring the teeth of Alexandra Potter was a frightening thing. "Shall we go? The Heir of Slytherin awaits..."
11 April 1993, Chamber of Secrets
For what seemed to be the twentieth time today, Alexandra was glad she wore completely ruined clothes.
When Neville and the other Gryffindors had told her they knew where the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets was, she had imagined an archway similar to Diagon Alley but with a lot of snake decorations, perhaps gem stones, silver and finely styled architecture. Salazar Slytherin –at least according what little literature had survived to the 90s – was not a modest wizard. His greatest work should have included the sculptures, the wards and the decoration appropriate.
Throwing yourself into a pipe of grey stone was about the complete opposite of her vision. Worse, it was covered in slime. The more she thought about it, the more Alexandra was convinced the Lions had found one of the openings the Basilisk was using to launch its attack thorough the schools. Not the only one, there had been petrifactions too far from this section of the second floor and a giant snake was not the most discreet creature of the Wizarding World. It was frightening to say the least. A monstrous creature able to strike by three or four passages no one save the Heir had known about before this year. An uncountable number of breaches in Hogwarts defences no one in the staff had any idea they existed.
After this realisation, the assurance that this castle was the safest place in Magical Britain was kind of sickening. If she survived this little adventure without being forced to escape as a fugitive, Alexandra knew she and the rest of the Exiled would have to create a lot of contingencies for invasions and other terror attacks. The worst scenarios imaginable tended to be unleashed in Hogwarts corridors with a depressing regularity. Examining the vast underground cavern they had arrived in, the Potter Heiress winced. Better to think about Hogwarts and Dumbledore's failures than the revelation of her sword's name.
Fragarach. The Answerer, able to force whoever had its metal pressed upon his or her throat the pure and unaltered truth, a Veritaserum in metal form. In the legends it had been forged by the Gods and become the sword of Manannan mac Lir and later Lugh Lamfada. It was renamed Clarent on the eve of the terrible Battle of Camlann by Morgana La Fay. In the aftermath, the blade received the infamous title of Slayer of Kings. Throwing a glance around her to be sure none of the Gryffindors were looking, the black-haired witch sent a disturbed look at Glamdring – no at Fragarach. This weapon had cut apart tens of thousands enemies in its long and bloody history. Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table were just footnotes in an endless series of wars.
And I found it. In a goblin fortress where weapons were covered in dust and rust. How long was it there?
Alexandra had never found a description of it in the library. Not that she had tried that much considering the unlikely possibility of her sword to be one of the most infamous artefacts in Britain's history – both magical and non-magical. After all, the other priceless weapon which had disappeared the same day as Fragarach had never been found again. And unlike Clarent, everyone had heard of its name.
Excalibur.
No, the questions going with the sword location could wait for another day. For now, the Heir of Slytherin was still at large. Its Basilisk was dead, but whoever had taken the appearance of Ginny Weasley could still do a lot of damage. The teachers had all been petrified with a baffling facility – Flitwick, Snape and their Junior assistants had been the only ones able to put up a fight. The castle was in partial lock-down and the Floo didn't function.
At least the Claim of Conquest had allowed her to replenish a good part of her magical core. Since Samhain and the mark the Morrigan had left on her, Alexandra had been curious whether or not she could take profit from this. Champions of the Old Powers gained several boons from their power and the Morrigan was a divinity of death. Claiming the Basilisk for herself would make sure neither Dumbledore nor the Ministry tried to rob her. And she would gain more energy to throw spells around, power they really needed if the Heir of Slytherin was as dangerous as she feared.
She concentrated again on her surroundings. Apart from a gigantic amount of dead snake's skin, there was no human presence in this underground place. It didn't feel right. With the lake being so close, creating such a place must have required colossal Space-Expansion Charms, to say nothing of Anti-Apparition Wards and protections against House Elves. Yes, the last one had been verified by the Weasley Twins.
"How could someone build something like this in secret?"
"Parseltongue-keyed wards and a customised Charm combining Space-Expansion and adaptation to Hogwarts ward stone?"
The proposition from Fred Weasley – or was it George? – left more than one member of their group with the mouth wide open. In theory, casting these Charms and wards was possible for a gifted fifth-year. In theory. Well, except the Parseltongue wards. One had to speak the language of snakes to use them.
But in theory, casting these spells one after another was not difficult. But when the time came to combine them...'difficult' was the understatement of the millennia. If the rumours were true, Salazar Slytherin had built this part of the castle unaided by his fellow Founders. How powerful was the man who had given his name to the House of Snakes? Dumbledore was just an old man with delusions of grandeur by comparison...
They discovered other pipes in their exploration of the cavern. One point for the fact they had just used one of the Basilisk's exits rather than the real opening Salazar Slytherin had built for himself. The issue with this interpretation was the lack of other passageways: to leave this cavern you had to take the pipes or go forwards. Perhaps Salazar Slytherin loved to descend in the slime...or had several enchantments failed in the last centuries and deteriorated the pipes? Unfortunately, there was no way to know. The only witness of the past was the Basilisk...and she had just killed it.
After several minutes of exploration the eight Gryffindors and the Ravenclaw took position in front of what had to be the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets: a heavy circle of metal decorated with dozens of snakes. It looked so heavy Alexandra was sure none of her overpowered Bombarda would have been able to pulverise this thing. And destroying the walls next to it sounded like a very bad idea when the green-eyed witch didn't know what the stone foundations were supporting.
A Parseltongue command from Neville Longbottom and a snake of metal detached itself from the rest of the structure, unlocking one by one the snake-shaped mechanisms protecting the Chamber from all intrusion.
"What was the password?"
"Huh...I just said 'Open'..."
The battering opened in an atrocious thundering, confirming no one had oiled these things for centuries and pretty much ruining the effect of surprise. In compete silence the wizards and the witch advanced to discover one of the greatest rumoured legends of Hogwarts.
Except it wasn't a legend, was it? If the previous cavern had been huge, the Chamber of Secrets defied imagination. It was easily ten times bigger and massive snake statues of cobras, anacondas, basilisk and vipers of all species had been magically sculpted to decorate the sides of the central stone aisle.
At the other end of their current position was an over-dimensioned statue of Salazar Slytherin itself. By the dark presence of Morgoth, Slytherin must have had an ego the size of a mountain to lose his time building a sculpture of himself. Especially as he and his descendants were the only people who had seen it in uncountable centuries.
The hour was not one for jokes sadly. Right under their feet someone had deliberately traced a pentacle of blood for a very Dark ritual. The runes, the blood, the sacrificial victim...everything had been respected. And the torn throat of the victim added to the massive amount of blood reddening the white stones dashed their hopes.
Worse, they knew the dead woman.
"Professor Kaitlyn Reed..." whispered the eldest of the Weasley boys. "She is..."
"Dead."
This was brutal but there wasn't any way a witch or a wizard could suffer with the kind of wounds the Junior Professor of DADA had received. The brown hair of the witch had been partially burned. Deep cuts had been made to her arms and legs. Her clothes were in tatters like someone had...no, she wasn't going to think about this. The visage of Lockhart's most engaged fan-girl was forever stopped in a grimace of agony, her cold eyes fixing the dead ceiling.
Whoever had made the blood ritual was a certified monster; that was a certainty. The culprits had not just wanted her blood. They had wanted to make the poor witch suffer before her life ended.
"Don't enter the circle," commanded one of the Twins in an injunction where no humour was present. "We don't know what sort of ritual it was supposed to be..."
For an instant Alexandra thought Seamus Finnigan or Ron Weasley were going to disobey but reason won in their heads. Thank the Powers of Magic for that small favour. They had enough problems like that; disrupting a ritual circle could be outright disastrous and go downhill from there.
"She's not the only one dead here," said darkly the other Weasley twin, lighting with his wand the shallow man-made river on the right side of the Chamber. "Alexandra could you give me a hand?"
"Sure."
Drawing back her wand in her holster, Alexandra helped the Gryffindor dragging from the water another corpse. Absent some high-level spells, there wasn't any non-magical way to breathe for so long underwater. To her surprise, this was one of their fellow Slytherin second-years.
"This is...Byron Vaisey?"
The face of the pure-blood was showing an astonished expression, not the horrified one of the Professor.
"Looks like he was drowned," said soberly the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Mate, this isn't funny at all!" roared Ronald Weasley. "What is happening here? We came here to save Ginny..."
A cold and mocking applause interrupted what the red-haired boy had been about to say. Not that it was a great loss compared to the fact three figures who had just revealed themselves at the base of the gigantic head statue.
Alexandra would dearly have loved for her allies of circumstance to advance carefully – just in case the persons waiting for them next to the statue had prepared a thousand traps – but alas it was not to be. Seamus Finnigan rushed towards them, followed by Ron Weasley, Leo Black, Dean Thomas and then it was like a domino effect with the other Lions following suit. Sitting the lifeless body of Vaisey on the cold stones with the second Weasley twin, Alexandra drew her wand again and marched calmly, trying to see what sort of nasty surprises the Heir had prepared for them. The raven-haired witch didn't see anything...which was all the more suspicious. With the first attack on Halloween, who knew what sort of wards and creatures could wait in a dark corner?
It took her half a minute to take her place in the line facing the three Slytherins. Because they were proudly showing the badge of the Viper's Den, despite two of them having never attended one of the Sortings or the Ending Feasts. The first was a black-haired teenager. He was old and tall enough to be at least a fifth or sixth year. He was standing completely immobile with determination and confidence...and his eyes were so cold, so dark it was honestly perturbing. Somehow, there was something familiar in his traits, like she had seen it before. But where?
The second Slytherin was a girl who looked to be an older first-year or a young second-year. Her perfect face could have seriously challenged Daphne Greengrass in the 'beautiful and arrogant' class. Her hairs were a dark blonde, her eyes were a brilliant purple and her skin was a pale colour. In a few years, this girl could be a top-model without any effort.
But if two of the three were more or less unknown parties, it was not the case of the third: William Rosier. House Rosier had shed lakes of blood in the service of Voldemort. Their last descendant had clearly chosen to continue on their murderous path. The last scion of the Rosier family was harbouring the familiar Slytherin smirk, as if there was something to be proud of when one caught you near an outlawed blood ritual.
"Tom...Tom Riddle?"
Neville's outburst was all she needed to connect the pieces and remember why this visage had seemed familiar. He was a model student of the World War II-era who had won several national awards and put an end to the attacks of 1945.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, Slytherin Prefect and apparently liar extraordinaire.
A Prefect of the 1940s had no business being here in the Chamber of Secrets. And when one added that someone had accused Rubeus Hagrid the last time of being the Heir of Slytherin, there was only one logical conclusion.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was behind the attacks of this year, the petrifactions, the rise of distrust and the antagonism between House Slytherin and the rest of the school.
He had released the Basilisk while letting the blame fall on Longbottom, the sole Parselmouth remaining at the school.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin.
"Why are you here?"
Well at least Dean Thomas was clueless. For a second, she wondered how the Lions would have found the Chamber of Secrets if they did not have a Parseltongue-speaking wizard in their ranks.
"He's the Heir of Slytherin."
The fifteen-year old clapped his hands. It was a frigid, controlled move.
"Very good, Alexandra Potter. I see the Ravenclaw reputation for intelligence is not usurped." The gaze of the Prefect who should not be here was somewhat appreciative. There was nothing good in the expression he showed to Thomas, though. "Neither is the Gryffindor reputation to rush headlong into danger..."
"Hey!"
"Slimy snake!"
"Be careful with your next words, Heir." The words of the Boy-Who-Lived were not hiding well the fury behind them.
"Where is Ginny?" shouted Ronald Weasley. "Where is our sister?"
"Right here, naturally."
The boys running their eyes all over the Chamber of Secrets in the search of the lost Gryffindor girl was quite comical, the Ravenclaw witch had to concede. But there was no one else in the vast secret room.
Alexandra turned her head towards the blonde girl. She was the only possible candidate if what Riddle said could be trusted at all. But it made no sense. Ginny Weasley had evidently been prisoner while someone else was impersonating her during the attacks. Why would the Lion girl attack her own housemates? There was no motive; the Weasley were famous –or infamous depending the society class you grew up with – for supporting Muggle and the wizards and witches born from non-magical families. They had clearly the impersonator in front of them and no trace of Ginny...unless...
The vivid scene of the blood ritual behind them and the dead eyes of Professor Reed flashed in her mind. Was it possible? Alexandra knew next to nothing on sacrificial dark rituals. One for resurrecting Riddle from the dead. One to transform...
"Riddle," For the first time of the day, the Ravenclaw didn't feel angered, furious or nauseated. She was genuinely scared. "What have you done?"
"I knew you would understand." The smirk from the teenager was one of triumph. "Let me present you Scylla Persephone Yaxley." The girl made a slight bow as per the Wizengamot custom when a presentation occurred. "Formerly known as Ginevra Molly Weasley."
The reaction of the Gryffindors came in the next seconds, as virulent as the Slytherin Prefect had no doubt expected.
"This is ridiculous!"
"You're lying!"
"What game are you playing, Tom Riddle?"
"How did Ginny get like this?" The question had come from Percival. The eldest Weasley was completely and utterly horrified.
"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle in a tone hiding barely how pleased he was with himself. "It is quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley has been replaced by my dear Scylla is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."
"What are you talking about?" Seamus was clearly perplexed.
"My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books." Riddle's eyes glinted in a mischievous manner. "How she wasn't able to make the famous, the great, the King of pranksters Neville Longbottom notice her…"
All the time he spoke, Alexandra saw Riddle's eyes never left Neville's forehead. There was an almost hungry look in them. This was a look smelling of trouble and crazy and not of the good kind.
"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," conceded the ancient Hogwarts student. "But I was patient. I wrote back, I was sympathetic, I taught her the spells she needed to excel in class. Ginny simply loved me. She was the first of her class, had her own little court of admirers though her big brothers had never the time for her."
The Weasleys trembled or had their faces redden in shame. Riddle laughed, and it was really a sinister and frightening noise. For a moment, the twelve-ear old witch thought about cursing him here and now but the rest of the Gryffindors were looking...enraptured by the story.
"If I say it myself, Neville, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. A little Lady who had her own fears and an impressive accumulated anger. A Gryffindor witch of a Light family unwilling to tolerate the mediocrity and the poverty she was forced into by her parents. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her, to train the girl who was becoming my Herald …"
"I don't understand." said quietly the Black Heir.
"Haven't you guessed yet, Leo Black?" The Heir of Slytherin was visibly enjoying explaining his tortuous plan in the tiniest details. "Scylla Yaxley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on the Mudbloods, the Blood-traitors and the Squib's cat. She organised the attack on the Quidditch Pitch and butchered a Thestral. She killed your Professor when the time came for me to take corporeal form again. She punished Byron when this little snake was willing to betray our cause and run back to the teachers. And every time she used the Arts I taught her, she took control and Ginny Weasley grew weaker."
"No." Neville was completely horrified and Alexandra didn't blame him. The act of someone controlling your body like a puppet sounded utterly monstrous in theory and the practise was certainly even more awful.
"Yes." The eyes of Riddle flashed red for a second or two and she was sure it was not her imagination. "Of course, neither Ginny nor Scylla knew what was happening to them at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries … far more interesting, they became … Dear Tom,' he recited, watching the Lions' horrified faces, 'I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me … there was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad … I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'"
Alexandra looked at her opponents, trying to think about a plan to neutralise all of them rapidly. The problem was that she couldn't kill Scylla Yaxley; her knowledge of blood rituals was non-existent, but she didn't think she could forgive herself if there was a way to reverse this abominable fate. Riddle would have to be taken care of first, she concluded. He was the most dangerous opponent and Rosier was just a first-year.
"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary. But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. It was too late for her however. Scylla was stable and fully attuned thanks to the Sang Royal. Her heart sang with the darkness." A new smile as deranged as the others came to his lips. "And that's where you came in, Neville. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet …"
The Potter Heiress absolutely didn't like where it was going. Neville Longbottom, Golden Boy extraordinaire of Gryffindor, had had in his hands a Dark heirloom which should have made two-thirds of Hogwarts wards scream in alarm? Seriously what wrong with this school?
"And why did you want to meet me?" Neville's tone wasn't too pleased and she understood. It was unlikely the Slytherin teenager wanted to join the Boy-Who-Lived fan-club.
"Well, you see, Scylla told me all about you, Neville." It was frightening to hear how many of Gryffindor House's little secrets had been revealed to inimical parties. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you and meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."
"Hagrid's my friend!" roared the Longbottom heir. The Potter Heiress thought Neville should better choose them if this was the final result. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but –"
A true Slytherin making a mistake of this magnitude? Really the Lions were of a naivety bordering complete stupidity. Apparently Riddle was sharing this point of view because he burst in laughter.
"It was my word against Hagrid's, Neville. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school Prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise Thunderbird chickens in the Owlery, lighting bonfires to raise Firecrabs and hiding an Acromantula under his bed. But I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realise that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance … as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"
The voice of Riddle was full of pride and on this point none of the students could miss how long he had awaited this moment of glory in front of a receptive public.
"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did …"
Alexandra thought for herself it was extremely sad Dippet and the rest of the Professors had missed the complete psychopath currently in front of them. There was a place for persons like Riddle, and it was the mental asylum or the prison of Azkaban. The Valar knew this Slytherin deserved it.
"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you." And the Dumbledore worship came back at the worst possible moment. Seriously, were the Lions aware the man had done nothing to stop the attacks?
"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle like it was no big deal. For all she knew, it might be the truth since he must have already accomplished his goal with the death of Moaning Myrtle. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."
"Well, you haven't finished it." Neville said triumphantly. "In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again.'
"Haven't I already told you that petrifying Mudbloods and Blood-traitors doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been – you."
The Weasley and the rest of the second-years stared at him in quite disbelief.
"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But the little idiot had miscalculated. I brought Scylla back in control and she told me everything about how you had Parseltongue abilities, how you would go to any length to solve the mystery particularly if more people were attacked..."
"So I talked to Scylla and my Herald wrote her own farewell on the wall. Then we came here to wait. We had originally planned to use you as the main ingredient for our little ritual but my Slytherins servants were taking too much time to come back and we used the poor Professor Reed as a result."
"Ginny?"
This time it was Scylla Yaxley who spoke in a melodious and cultured voice.
"My host struggled and cried but she was too weak to resist me. How boring. There isn't much life left in her: I have taken the full control of her magical core and her body."
"And with the last ritual I gained enough energy to let me leave its pages at last," finished Tom Riddle. "I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Neville Longbottom."
"Like what?"
"Well," said Riddle with a fake smile. "How is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"
The red flash was back in his eyes and Alexandra had a sinking feeling. Lord Voldemort had always pretended to be the Heir of Slytherin. Tom Riddle was claiming to be the Heir of Slytherin. Two plus two...
"Why do you care how I escaped?" answered back arrogantly the Boy-Who-Lived. "Voldemort was after your time."
"Voldemort is my past, present and future, Neville Longbottom …"
Holding the wand which had certainly belonged to Professor Kaitlyn Reed from his pocket, the Slytherin Prefect began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words in flames:
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name re-arranged themselves:
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
An anagram. The name of the dreaded Dark Lord having brought the Magical government of Britain to its knees was just an anagram. Who would have believed it?
"You see?" The junior version of the Dark Lord whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins run the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Neville. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"
"LUMOS!" Alexandra screamed, closing her eyes and letting the bright of her overpowered Light Charm blind the Lions and the Snakes indifferently.
The raven-haired witch didn't try throwing a second spell at Riddle. This fifth-year had certainly forgotten more spells in his life than she had ever learned in two years. Drawing Fragarach from its position on her back, she sprinted towards the Heir of Slytherin.
"Avada-"
"For Professor Reed!"
The silver sword took the young Voldemort in the chest and stopped the Unforgivable right on his lips. The red-dark eyes opened comically like they were trying to recognise their end. It didn't matter. Alexandra pivoted on her left and punched Scylla Yaxley right in the jaw. The girl who had been Ginny Weasley was evidently not expecting physical means of contact and was thrown on the ground. A turn of forty-five degrees on the left and the Potter Heiress pointed her wand at William Rosier.
The effects of the Lumos were gone and the scion of the Dark line had had the time to put himself in a duel stance. When Alexandra met his eyes she saw only darkness and death.
To the death then.
"Crucio!"
"Glacies Secare!"
She had already moved out of the way when the first syllabus of the Unforgivable came out. Rosier didn't. If he hadn't been her enemy, she would have recommended him remedial duelling lessons with Flitwick to him. As it was, the lessons wouldn't do him any good. The overpowered ice-cutting incantation slammed directly into the Slytherin first-year and pierced the entire left side of his body. Alexandra was suddenly sprinkled in blood while the Cruciatus passed half a meter away from her and slammed into the hideous statue of Salazar Slytherin.
William Rosier, eleven years old, a boy who had proven himself a true successor to his Death Eater family, fell on his back and stopped moving. Good riddance.
Past the moment of astonishment the Lions at last moved. Fred, George and Percival rushed towards the girl who might or might not be their sister to ensure she was right. The five other Gryffindors on the other hand regarded her like she had suddenly transformed herself into a Basilisk minus the death glare.
"Potter! Stop this!"
"She's gone completely crazy!"
"Your help was very much appreciated Gryffindors." The green-eyed witch retorted after the last unhelpful comment of Ronald Weasley. How did the boy think they were supposed to defeat this young version of Voldemort? By sending him flowers?
Alexandra had enough. Screw it, this Wizarding World and its Light champions were completely useless. It took a Ravenclaw to make sure the job was done.
"Potter, what-"
"Purging what remains of the little Slytherin conspiracy, Longbottom. One dirty snake after the other."
Turning aside to look at the dying Heir of Slytherin, she watched Tom Marvolo Riddle on his knees trying to extract her sword.
"It's over, Riddle."
"Potter...you could have...served me."
"You?" Alexandra delivered a solid kick at a place no boy liked receiving a hit and was rewarded by a loud expression of pain. "Don't be ridiculous. I bow to no one and certainly not to Slytherin psychopaths with delusions of grandeur."
"I am the greatest wizard..."
"Oh, please. The greatest wizard of known times is Gandalf the Grey. Everyone knows that."
By the ignorance showed on his face, Riddle had never read Tolkien books. What a pity for a Muggle-raised wizard.
"I am a construct...your sword...will not kill me."
"Fragarach was coated minutes ago in Basilisk venom."
The sheer expression of horror on Tom's face was so stunning Alexandra would be unable to recount this moment later without giggling and lamenting at the fact she had not brought a camera. The self-proclaimed Heir spat blood and his arms trembled as the venom began its deadly work.
"That was for Hermione, Morag and all the people who had to suffer because of you, by the way." She told the defeated Heir of Slytherin, grabbing the handle of Fragarach and enlarging the massive injury she had given him before removing the enchanted blade from his soon-to-be-corpse.
A massive hiss was all she got in answer.
"Don't tire yourself." Alexandra said to the ancient Prefect and Head Boy. "Your Basilisk is dead."
"Who... said...I... had... only...one?" Tom Riddle managed to utter before completely collapsing and closing his eyes.
Something heavy moved, shaking the ground and troubling the flow of water present in the Chamber. Inch by inch, a space where the mouth of Salazar's statue had been located began to open. A strident snake hiss resonated.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
The Charm struck the statue like a bomb and pieces of stone flew everywhere...but it was too late. The hole had not been completely shut down and the monster was going to pass through.
"Bombarda!"
If they survived somewhat this day, the Heiress of House Potter swore she was seriously going to contemplate the murder of Ronald Weasley, idiot extraordinaire of Gryffindor. Apparently the red-haired wizard had thought imitating Alexandra was a good idea. With a broken wand. In the middle of an extremely perilous situation. With a fourth-year spell he had never mastered.
The red-white magic ray did not strike the statue of Salazar Slytherin or anywhere near it. Instead it lighted like one of the infamous lightsabers of Darth Vader in Star Wars and drilled a car-sized hole in the ceiling.
For a second or two even the Basilisk stopped hissing in shock and every wizard and witch watched the breach with hope the wards of the Slytherin Founder were going to cope with it. Sadly Salazar Slytherin had not thought about the monumental disasters the Golden Trio could unleash in their wake when he built the Chamber.
A torrent of water fell a few feet to Seamus' left and as an impressive cascade formed before their eyes, the fact the Chamber had been placed under the lake was more than verified. The Chamber was going to get a lot more humid than it already was.
"George, Fred, take your sister and flee!" Alexandra screamed, fixing her attention on the ground and cursing herself for having sent back Tisiphone to her cage. Stupid, stupid and stupid! Why had she been so stupid to assume the Heir had only one Basilisk? Why had she tolerated Weasley and not brought a Ravenclaw or two to stop him at the first stupidity?
They all ran towards the entrance, leaving the bodies of Rosier and Riddle there. Sure it was a major loss of evidence but the goblins knew when a House died. They would confirm their words...and they had first to survive.
"LONGBOTTOM! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"
With water soaking their shoes there was really no time to spare but the Boy-Who-Lived had crouched near the ritual circle to grab the diary responsible for all these deaths. In other times, she would have congratulated the Lion for thinking of evidence but there wasn't any time! A shrieking hiss sounded behind her and Alexandra jumped to her right on sheer instinct, pulling the Boy-Who-Lived with her.
It was the only thing which saved them. A long tail full of terrible spines slammed at the place she had been situated the moment before. The stairs leading to the door exploded under the assault and the walls trembled, letting fall more rocks and stones on the sole exit.
More water poured into the Chamber of Secrets. Just wonderful. Looking around she saw Longbottom on his belly trying to regain his breath...and then impossibly a freaking red bird appeared from nowhere, perched itself on Neville's shoulder and the two vanished in a magical flame storm.
What in the name of the Valar?
Alexandra hadn't the time to investigate. The Basilisk charged again but this time she was ready, its huge shadow impossible to miss in the water filling the room. She put Fragarach in a horizontal stance before delivering an oblique attack with what little strength she had in her arms. One jump and a formidable hiss of pain later, she had the confirmation her strike had been successful. The lake was turning crimson of the Basilisk blood and the Monster was hurling its tail and the rest of its body in unnatural forms.
The King of Snakes was wounded and its threat had been diminished, for all the good it was going to do. The entrance of the Chamber had completely collapsed, making the need for a new exit prominent. But there was too much water and she doubted she had the time to explore the Chamber in detail. Already her knees were going to be under the current. And hadn't there been texts affirming the Basilisk was more redoubtable in an aquatic environment?
"Bombarda!" When in doubt, demolish something. The Basilisk might be tough, but by the hisses it made it was a fairly good bet the first Bombardment Charm was had severely wounded it. Direct hits were useless, but blasting the stone snake statues to hurt it would be poetic justice.
But the sounds of her casting were still too loud and Basilisks had a superb ability to detect any sort of vibrations. It came back in her direction and Alexandra didn't need to look at it to know it was all fangs blazing.
"REDUCTO! BOMBARDA! REDUCTO!" And she finished with a new high attack of Fragarach when the beast came into close quarters. The Basilisk withdrew as its skin was once more perforated. Too fast. The water was allowing it to gain an impressive speed. Surely it had been the intent of Salazar Slytherin when he had built the damned thing under the lake.
The three last spells had cost her too much. She was tired and her clothes were more a hindrance than a protection now. When was the last time she'd been able to rest? She couldn't remember.
Rapid looks all over the Chamber of Secrets showed her she was alone –if you didn't count the floating corpses of Riddle, Rosier, Reed and Vaisey. Certainly the flame bird had teleported them away.
"But then I have always been alone from the beginning, no?" It was getting more difficult to maintain position and breathing. The water had reached her breasts. It was not the Chamber of Secrets anymore; Alexandra officially renamed the place Swimming Pool of Secrets. Not that it was going to attract a lot of swimmers with the potential of XXXXX-class creatures bathing in it.
She was alone...but the words she had promised to a certain goblin came back. The promise not to die. And there were her friends who would ask where she was once they were out of the infirmary. No, dying was not an option. And if there was no exit anymore, she could always make one or die trying.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
That some parts of the ceiling still held after centuries of neglect and the ravage of their battle was a credit to its builder. But the last spell she threw at it was the last straw. In a thunderous crash, an entire section fell down...right on the Basilisk. Alexandra felt her legs go weak as her last reserves had gone but it shouldn't matter as the water floxed down and the Basilisk hissed in agony. A maelstrom of water filled the Chamber...and suddenly the breaking point arrived.
Like an invisible tremor, Alexandra felt the discordance. The millenary wards created by Salazar Slytherin were collapsing under the torrent of water submerging the room. Teleportation would be dangerous with the Hogwarts wards so close, but no longer impossible. The Basilisk surged from the waters again, a shrieking hiss coming out of the monstrous maw.
"Die in the darkness, King of Snakes."
Unlike the last times she had practised teleportation, there was nothing pleasant or smooth in it. Whether it was due to Hogwarts or the Chamber wards or her magical core running on low power remained to be seen, but her teleportation was like one of these toboggans Dudley always wanted to trap her in with his friends when they went on school excursions. She had willed to re-materialise two or three feet away from the lake's shore and at the sea level.
She was largely ten meters away from it and reintegrated reality three meters too high.
When she smashed the surface of the lake, her only reflex was to use the very basic 'bomb' reception one of the swimming coaches had taught to the beginners four years ago. She didn't think anyone could miss the fantastic splash.
The distance to swim was a real nightmare. Alexandra had never been a good swimmer and Hogwarts provided no opportunity to master any aquatic sports. Praise Magic that summer was not far away; the water was cold but bearable. At least it was not February when ice was still in the water and you could die in minutes without the adequate warming spells.
Note to self: suggest to the Board of Governors the installation of a swimming pool.
Unfortunately laughing made water enter her mouth and she had to stop, concentrate on her imperfect crawl and finish this journey. When she reached the hard and cold ground, her muscles burnt everywhere and her state had gone beyond mere exhaustion.
In the distance, she saw dozens of wizards and other figures running towards her. At last, the cavalry was arriving. Too late, but Alexandra supposed it was the intention which counted, no?
A second geyser erupted from the Black Lake. The monstrous head of the Basilisk surged forwards, bleeding and hissing in a cacophony of death.
"Truly, the monster deserves his name..."
Seriously how bloody resistant were those abominations? Only Fragarach seemed able to pierce their scales and inflict lasting damages. And it was not like blades wielded by gods and heroes were sold at every shop of Diagon Alley. No, Basilisks were truly army-killers.
The Ravenclaw witch thought the beast was going to rush at her once again but the trajectory of the King of Snakes was dozens of feet to her right. But then she saw the crimson colour of blood spreading in the dark waters of the lake.
As the seconds passed and the cries of alarm of humans came behind her, the wounds on the scales became evident. It looked like the Basilisk had received a good part of the Chamber on its head and its body. The eyes and a good part of the head were mangled. Hundreds of wounds had got past its defences. With a last effort, the Basilisk of Salazar Slytherin came ashore and went still.
Alexandra laughed. She could not help it. It was too good to be true. Two Basilisks vanquished in a space of a few hours. To her best knowledge, no wizard or witch since this abomination had been invented had been able to triumph alone against the XXXXX-class monster known as the King of Snakes.
Her legs were unsteady but she managed to walk at a slow pace. She had difficulties breathing. Had she broken something? With the sum of things that had turned wrong today, this would be one more turn of bad luck...
When she reached the carcass of the Basilisk, a crowd had already formed around it. Not humans, though. No, most of the beings in front of her were goblins. And leading them...
"Accountant Grimjaw."
"Heiress Potter."
The old goblin had not much changed since their last meeting a bit less than a year ago. Except for the impressive bronze-coloured armour he wore, obviously. And the very large halberd.
"Your victory?"
"I collapsed an entire ceiling over it."
Her vision was failing and fast. Her ears were buzzing and she was barely able to hear the grunt of the goblin's approval.
"Impressive."
"You should have seen what I did to the other."
Alexandra wasn't sure if it was possible to give a goblin a heart attack but she was sure Grimjaw had not been far from that point. Why was everything turning so fast? She felt more and more light-headed.
A few more steps and she was at sword's point of the King of Snakes. One more time, Alexandra drew Fragarach and held it in the air.
"My name is Alexandra Victoria Potter. By my magic and my sword, this Basilisk has been slain. By the Powers of blood, magic and war, I claim the corpse of this second Basilisk for House Potter. So the fate of battle has spoken, so mote it be. Is there anyone who wants to challenge my claim?"
A cloud of magic surrounded her and the pain lessened. It was easier to breathe. Calm and serenity flooded in her soul and magic.
Well done, my Champion. This was a voice she had heard before. Samhain. The celebration. MacDougal Manor.
Thank you, Lady Morrigan.
Alexandra heard the cheers and the acclamations. And for the first time in days, she knew the time of the Heir of Slytherin was over.
