Chapter 29 is out! I have nothing to say this time, so see you in the next chapter!


Scala ad Caelum

Chapter 29: Those who did not lost hope

Blaise Zabini POV

Hours after the attack…

It was crazy to see how many things could change in just a few hours—from one day to another, the entire planet had spun around.

It all started after the sudden explosion, which came out of nowhere. They all had been so surprised and scared that no one realised there was a missing student; not until Daphne pointed it out to the Auror, who was still busy guarding the group from whatever the danger could be.

Ron was nowhere to be seen, but his absence brought the storm to them. The second-year students from Slytherin and Hufflepuff were instantly sent to the Great Hall, and shortly after that, the other classes were told the same. Everyone looked puzzled at first; only a few understood what was happening back then. Blaise could still remember how their face's colour had been drained in seconds.

However, the worst was yet to come.

If chaos and worryness had hit them with the strength of a gale, as soon as Neville Longbottom—with tears already running down his face—exclaimed in a raspy voice that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was also missing, it hit them like a bloody earthquake, a bloody tsunami and hundred other bloody disasters. Some people contained their breaths, others let out scared whimpers and a few students even tried to abandon the Great Hall because they wanted to go back home.

Instead, Blaise just tried to keep his composure and obey all the Headmaster ordered them to do. Did they need to go back to their common rooms? So he would do. Did they need to trust the Professors and Aurors to find the two missing boys before it was too late? So he would do—even if many thought it already was too late for them.

Seconds turned into minutes, only for them to turn into hours—truth to be told, it didn't make a difference. He would wait in his bedroom as much time as he needed to; let it be laying on the bed as he was at that moment, or walking around like a madman as he would probably do in a few hours. The ever-comfy room looked gloomy, as if the bloody place also missed the lively mop of red hair which used to sleep in the bed next to his.

Blaise hated cursing, but it helped him to distract his mind from those dark thoughts which had been plaguing it since Ron disappeared. Why him? Blaise asked himself again and again. His friend was a good person, much better than he and many other students, and from the little he knew about Harry Potter, the same could be said about him.

Yet it had been them who were attacked…

No one knew anything about their disappearances, but it was crystal clear, if someone were to ask him. First, it was Hermione Granger, and then came the two boys—three members out of the five that formed the silly anti-Heir group had been attacked. I told them this was coming! And so did Daphne! This was bound to happen! At least, I did my best to warn them… Blaise rolled over his left side and punched the wall. It hurt, and it got worse with each beat of his knuckles, but it worked to get those stupid thoughts out of his tired mind.

"Do you think the Heir got them?" The voice of Nott startled him. He sounded curious, nothing else.

Blaise took his time to answer. "Yes, I think so."

"Weasley was a decent duellist," the lanky boy went on. "And well, we all know who Harry Potter is. But I guess you are right. If older students got attacked, their fate must have been the same."

"Ron is a decent duellist," Blaise replied.

"What?"

"You said Ron was, as if he was gone. He isn't."

The conversation died after that. It only took a few minutes for Nott's snores to reach his ears. Blaise closed the curtains of his bed and put the pillow around his head. Then he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to catch him—unfortunately, the bastard sure took his time.

Later, he woke up in the middle of the night, or so the darkness told him. His arms felt heavy—probably, because his nerves were still sleepy—and his cheeks felt a bit wet. He shook his head in disgust. Blaise Zabini did not cry.

"Lumos," the boy whispered after grabbing his wand. A little ball of light was born at its tip as he opened the curtains. It was a faint one, but it allowed him to distinguish the many shapes and outlines of the bedroom. A bit surprised, he observed there was a light after Nott's curtains. I guess he also fell asleep very early and now he can't go back.

He tried to avoid it, but his eyes found their way towards Ron's bed. It was empty. Of course it would be, what did you expect, idiot? Blaise walked out of the bedroom. There wasn't a single soul in the corridor. However, a few sounds came from the common room; people having a conversation. His feet moved by themselves since his brain still looked to be asleep.

As soon as he stepped onto the green and brown carpet, the boy felt many eyes on him. Blaise let out a timid snort—those bastards weren't even trying to lower their voices! He could hear them with ease; how they talked about the Heir and the attacks; how they talked about Ron… and how they talked about him, the redhead's friend.

He just ignored them all and sat at the furthest couch from them, one near a big fireplace. It wasn't as cold as winter anymore, but, that night, the common room felt as icy as it had felt in January. Blaise observed how the flames ate the logs of wood, almost in a trance.

Because of that, he almost jumped out of the castle when someone dropped down on the single-couch next to him. "How are you doing?" Daniel Williams, the sixth-year prefect, known because of his status as the muggle-born who earned the respect of his fellow Slytherins, asked him. He didn't sound pitiful—in fact, his voice had sounded pretty neutral, yet it was far from being emotionless like Nott's.

"I try not to think about it," Blaise said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Does it make it easier?"

"No, but it is how I do it."

A comfortable silence enveloped them for a few minutes. Of course, it was bound to end. "Your friend left one hour ago," Williams commented, suddenly. "Greengrass, the blonde one, is that her name?"

Blaise raised his head from the couch to look at the prefect. "Yeah, it is," he replied, still a bit surprised. "What do you mean by she left?"

"Well, from the little us prefects know, the information about the attacks had been leaked," Williams huffed. "The entire country is horrorized—it seems the general opinion about the Heir of Slytherin has changed for the worse now that muggle-borns aren't the only ones in danger. Who could have thought?" Those last words came out differently, like venom. He quickly snapped out of it. "Whatever. A few hours after noon, the Headmaster started to receive some letters, written by some worried parents who wanted their children out of the school this very same night. Pureblood parents, if you know where I wanna go. From Slytherin, she's the only one to leave, but I've heard there were others from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"I do," Blaise nodded his head. It made sense—one thing was to have a few muggle-born students attacked, and another whole story was to have a member of the Weasley family, who were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and a half-blood, who was no other than Harry Potter, as the last victims. "In the pureblood sphere within this country, Lord Thomas Greengrass has always been…, let's say, a man whose reputation could greatly change depending on whom you ask about it."

He didn't know why he was talking about that, but since the prefect looked to be paying attention, he continued. It also helped his mind to divert from other thoughts, way less pleasant ones. "To some, he is a shark in the field of business whose intellect allowed him to gain such an incredible fortune and reputation. To others, he is the most spineless coward to ever walk this planet."

"What's your opinion?" Williams asked.

Blaise took his time to think about it; he wasn't expecting that question. "I think they both might be true," he finally said. "I don't know why it has to be one or the other."

The prefect hummed in response, but not a single word came out of his mouth. The crackling of the fire talked for them both. It was a relaxing sound, one that managed to eclipse the voice of the other students; most were from fifth year and above, but there even was a group of three first-years among them. Blaise observed the fire until the logs were consumed, then his eyes closed and nothing else happened.

He wanted to sleep, but it avoided him for a second time. "Did you see her?" Blaise asked out of a sudden, his eyes still closed. "Daphne, I mean. How did she look?"

"I saw her," Williams replied. "However, about that second question… Well, to be honest, I don't bloody know. She looked neutral, maybe that's the most adequate word. Cold as ice itself, even though her head didn't rise once in the entire walk out of the common room—like a robot, if you know what that is. Certainly, she didn't fight Professor Snape when he came to deliver the news, but neither did she look happy to leave."

"Sometimes, it is better to run away from the problems rather than facing them," Blaise commented with a sour voice. He opened his eyes, just to find the prefect looking back at him with a silent question on his. Some of the burnt logs were replaced by new ones, and the fireplace suddenly flared because of it. The boy used it to avoid Williams' gaze. "Not everyone is strong enough to fight all the time. I'm not, at least."

Blaise closed his eyes again and leaned back on the couch—as far as he was concerned, the conversation had just finished. No words were spoken for a few minutes, until the prefect broke the silence as he got up from his couch with a tired sigh. "Ronald is okay," Williams said. "As everyone else, he was petrified. You might have already imagined it, but I wanted to tell you, just in case."

The sound of some footsteps informed Blaise of the older student's departure. He was petrified, he repeated those words in his mind. Many hours had passed since the attack, but they still were hard to believe. Blaise shut his mind down—at some point of the late night, the boy fell asleep amidst a rain of far whispers and the warm crackling of the fire.

He'd wake up a few hours later as someone nudged him on the shoulder. Blaise suddenly opened his eyes, his heart beating faster than it was used to. However, he relaxed as soon as Tracey's face appeared in front of him. "You fell asleep on the couch," she pointed out. Her voice didn't sound hoarse, but her face couldn't hide how she really felt—that had always been a flaw of hers, too emotional for her own good. The girl hadn't even bothered to tidy her hair, which fell over her shoulders like a brown and unruled waterfall.

"What time is it?" Blaise asked as he sat up. He still felt a bit stupid—not only because he had just woke up, but because how much of him he had revealed to a stranger that night. Come on, snap out of it. This ain't no time for this.

"It should be around the middle of the morning," Tracey replied. "No one seems to track the time here." She sent a quick look around. There, in the ever-crowded common room, only a few students accompanied them—some older girls played a game of chess, other groups talked in whispers, and the Quidditch team sat at the end of the large room, barking and laughing as if it was a normal day. "In fact, I came here because I just woke up and… Well, I had nothing to do in my room."

Blaise gave the hint of a sour grimace, but he managed to hide it in time. "So, about Daphne," the boy began.

"She left yesterday," Tracey muttered in response. "Snape stormed into the room to deliver the news, but we already knew it. The house-elf her father offered to Dumbledore two years ago, when we all came to Hogwarts, apparated right in the middle of our bedroom. The attacks on Harry and Ron were of public knowledge, he told us. Moreover, Daphne's father wanted to take her out of the school as soon as possible. From what he told us, other families, like the Goldsteins or the Selwyns, had the same intention."

Blaise nodded his head. It was common sense, indeed. "What about us?" He then asked. "I mean, the school and the Headmaster had been walking through thin ice for months. Sure, the gatekeeper's arrest won them a bit of time, but now… I don't see a way in which Hogwarts remains open by the end of this week."

"There is a way," Tracey whispered as she lowered her head. "There is only one way…"

Blaise let out a loud snort. "Snap out of it, Tracey," the boy said. "The Heir of Slytherin won. It's over. You five tried your best, and look where it got you. Three members of your group were attacked, and only Longbottom and you are left to what? To fight? Really? Didn't you have enough?"

"The hell do you expect me to do, then!?" Tracey shouted at him with tears in her eyes. Some students turned their attention to them, so the boy shushed the girl. Of course, she ignored him. "Say it, Blaise! Do you want me to sit by your side and watch how everything goes to hell? Do you want me to act as if I didn't give a shit about every person not named Blaise Zabini?" She sent him a hateful look before running away, back to the bedrooms.

It hurt. To see the last look she sent him, it hurt so much. "At the end of the day, it is only I whom I can trust," the boy muttered, his gaze set on the fireplace once again. There was no fire in it. "I look after myself because, if I don't do it, who is gonna do it?"


The hours passed and the boy waited in solitude.

Like him, no one seemed to know what to do. They were all confined in the common room, with barely any information at all, but with growing displeasure and stress. Tracey was sitting alone at the other end of the place, as far from him as she could, as she took a few shy bites from her food. Blaise imitated her, even if he didn't need to—he could always talk to Nott a bit, but he really didn't feel like it at that moment.

Blaise hated all that uncertainty, just as it worried him. He had always known what to do in every situation—it was the advantage of having such an easy life. He needed to graduate from Hogwarts, then he was free to do as he deemed optimal for his future. However, it all had taken a turn for the worse. Most likely, he would need to leave the country and move to another one, to another School; probably, either France or the States.

What about your friends? The damned question was repeated in his mind once again. It had an easy answer; it should have, at least.

Blaise would miss them, sure, but others would come in the future to replace them; it wasn't such a big deal. In fact, for many years, he had been eagerly waiting for his perfect chance to come. The boy had always hated his 'friends', most of them, at least… Malfoy, Parkinson and even Daphne believed themselves to be steps above the rest—although, in the blond girl's case, that bad habit changed long ago; most of the time, that's it. Their parents had way more influence and money than his mother did, and they were better because of that… That was utter rubbish; no one was better than his mother.

A sudden noise pulled the boy out of his thoughts. The Quidditch team was playing a game of explosive snap, and judging by how angry his roaring sounded, Marcus Flint must have lost the hand.

Blaise used the distraction to lay back on his couch as he shook his head. Those times are long gone, the boy told himself. Our actual group is good enough. Despite the affirmation, he couldn't help himself but to send a timid glance towards Tracey, who still refused to even look in his direction. We changed for the better, but still… He was very different from Ron and Tracey, that was obvious. Hell, even Daphne, who shared the most traits with him, was almost unrecognisable when compared to her infant version.

Like it or not, Blaise Zabini still was a black sheep.

At some point of the day, too lost in the book he was reading to realise about it, night came. A bunch of house-elves appeared in the middle of the common room; their apparition was so silent it caught many off guard. In no time at all, the creatures organised a large table with many platters of food on it. The smell of roasted beef reached his nostrils, but so did many others; salmon, salad and many vegetables, fruits for dessert… Ordinary food for a not-so-ordinary day.

The sixth and seventh year prefects came back from the reunion they've just attended—there was no information about what the fate of Hogwarts would be, they said. Many groaned in response, more frustrated than worried, if anything. Others really looked to lament the lack of good news; most of them were the younger students, whose generation still was under the school's charms. And, of course, a few even looked happy; those purebloods who would have no trouble joining another School.

I should think about it, too. I wonder which one would suit me the most, Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny? With those thoughts in mind, the boy finished his plate of steamed salmon—it lacked sauce, but he liked it that way. Blaise put the plate aside on a little table next to his couch; some house-elf would pick it up later.

He was bored, but he didn't feel like reading as he had done for the whole afternoon, however, he sent a sidelong glance at his book. If there was something he definitely didn't want to do, that was to go back to his bedroom.

His finger tapped on the table many times, far more than those he would have accepted in a normal situation. Come on, wake the hell up. Are you scared of a ghost or what? Blaise knew that wasn't the problem—there would be no ghost in his bedroom. It was the absence of a certain person that made him doubt. With a tired grunt, the boy stood up to make his way back to his dormitory.

In the way, he realised people didn't care about him anymore.

Unlike yesterday, not a single glance was spared in his direction. Works for me. He stepped aside so Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't crash with him in the corridor; it wasn't a narrow space, but those two seemed to grow thicker each day. Besides, it was obvious they wouldn't care if, by any chance, they happened to bump shoulders into him—it was a bad habit of theirs, one of many.

Blaise observed their retreating backs, listening how they laughed about whatever matter they could find amusing. When he turned back, he almost crashed into Daniel Williams, who had just come out from his bedroom. "Oh, my bad," the younger boy apologised. "I didn't realise I had stopped in front of a door."

The prefect just placed a hand on his shoulder as he dismissed the incident with a wave from the other one. "Two hours past noon, meet me at the common room," Williams said in a barely audible whisper as he squeezed his shoulder a bit harder, as if he wanted to put emphasis on those strange words.

"What?" Blaise looked at him, a bit freaked out by his sudden and strange attitude. "What do you mean…?" Not even waiting for him to finish the question, the prefect started to walk towards the common room as if nothing had happened. For a few seconds, Blaise stood there, in the middle of the corridor, as some students passed by his side—some older girls snickered at him, and he used the noise to snap out of his stupor, a bit embarrassed due to their laughs.

What was that? Why on earth would Williams want to meet him so late in the night? They barely had any relationship; in fact, yesterday had been the first time they had ever crossed more than three words.

Too lost in his thoughts to mind about the rest of the world, the boy let his body down on the bed. He had reached his dormitory without realising.

Nott had yet to come, but Blaise still closed the curtains around his bed. What's gotten into him? He couldn't divert his mind from the prefect's words, but he didn't find any answers for much he thought about it. Maybe, something happened in the meeting they had before dinner, the boy reasoned. Yes, that was a good point, one of the few that made sense. Maybe, there is new information about Ron. That was also plausible; what other reason besides that one could make him act the way he did? However, Blaise didn't know if he wanted to attend the said meeting. What is he gonna tell me? That Ron was attacked and petrified? I already know about it…

There was a much darker thought in the back of his mind, one he quickly erased from existence. No, Ron had been petrified like the rest of the students, he couldn't be… Blaise snapped out of it. He would wait until it was time to meet Williams, then he'd find out what the prefect wanted to tell him.

The hours passed very slowly, much more than they did on the last day. At some point in the night, Nott came into the room and closed the curtains of his bed. Blaise rolled to his left side, trying to find a new posture, one more comfortable than the previous one, then he rolled over to his right side. Is there any spell to make time go faster? The wait was starting to irk him, but there was nothing he could do to fight time, so he waited and waited.

He took a look at his watch. Only five minutes left. Blaise got up as silently as he could, then, not bothering to put his shoes on, the boy made his way out of the dormitory. Behind him, the door made a soft click as he eyed the dark corridor, which was only illuminated by the feeble light of some cold troches. There was no one in sight, he noted. Not until he reached the common room, where Williams was sitting on the closest couch from the bedroom's corridor, under the warmth of a little fireplace.

The prefect beckoned him to get closer as he took a finger to his lips; Blaise needed to not make any noise. And he did as told. "What do you want from me?" He whispered once he took a seat on the couch in front of him.

"You can talk louder here," Williams replied. "We are under a privacy spell. It covers a little area, but it is what we need right now."

"And that is?"

"As soon as your friend gets here, you'll know."

Friend? He means Tracey? Well, if there were news about Ron, it was only logical for Williams to also contact Tracey. In fact, she probably was closer to the redhead that he would ever be.

With a quick look around, Blaise realised there was another person in the common room. It was the Head Girl, who stood right in front of the place's exit, sending some sidelong glances in their direction from time to time.

"Miriam Crowley," the voice of Williams almost startled him. "She's been tasked to guard the common from the inside. No one is to come out, by the Headmaster's orders. From the little I know, the Professors and the Aurors are making a last push to see if they can hunt the Heir. If they succeed, well, this hell will end, but if they don't… I think you already know what will happen, don't you?"

Blaised replied with a nod of his head—he knew what would happen, as did everyone else. A sudden noise made the two boys look at the corridor behind them. From it came Tracey, who raised an inquiring brow at Williams the moment her eyes fell on Blaise. Hell, here we go again. Tracey Davis was a kind soul, but she sure knew to remind others the fact she was angry at them.

The girl ignored him to sit at another couch, their three seats making an imaginary triangle in which the prefect sat at the point. "What's the matter?" Tracey asked.

Williams didn't answer, instead, he stared at the fireplace with a thoughtful look on his face. "There might be a chance, a very little one, for someone to know some information about the Heir of Slytherin," he finally said. The information surprised Blaise a lot; he wasn't expecting this kind of talk. "Why am I telling you this? That's a funny question, I reckon," he let out a tired sigh as he leaned back into his couch. "A few hours ago, in the prefect's meeting, when we were told practically nothing by the Professors, Percy Weasley came to me to deliver this little note." He dropped a piece of paper on the table; it had been folded multiple times.

"It seems a fellow Gryffindor, by the name of Neville Longbottom, handed him this note," Williams continued under the watchful eyes of the two younger students. "The little fucker told Percy if he could, somehow, take the note to you, Davis. Percy, being the ingenuous ginger as he is, thought the boy just wanted to make sure if his friend was okay, but I'm not so kind. When he handed me the note, I opened it." Williams flicked the note across the table. It stopped right in front of them.

Tracey was the first to react, her hands quickly going for it. Blaise jumped out of his couch and got closer to her, their heads almost bumping into each other as the two read the note. 'Hagrid knew something about the Heir. The night of his arrest, he told Harry and me to follow the spiders into the Forest. I'm going to do it. If you want to come, I'll wait for you right outside of your common room, thirty minutes past two in the morning.'

For a few seconds, Blaise was left completely speechless. Then he looked at the prefect. "Is this…?"

"Real?" He asked back. "You bet it. Those words you just read are the same as I did a few hours ago. I must say that my reaction was pretty similar to yours."

"Why did you give this note to us?" Tracey questioned him.

"You knew the boy, I didn't," Williams replied. "Simple as that." Tracey opened her mouth to talk again, but the prefect shushed her. "Look, believe me or not, I don't want Hogwarts to close… It is very special to me… Besides, I need to graduate with full honours, and for that to happen, I still need one more year of school. However, unless the Heir gets hunted down, I won't get to see that happening… All my dreams are going to be crushed because of a sick bastard." He laughed, mirthlessly, just to quickly regain his composure. "If there is something I can do, I'll do it. It has been proven over and over that, unless we change the way the Headmaster has approached the situation, the Heir will slip from us again and again. I'm ready to put my neck at risk, if needed."

Those last words had a very serious intention behind them; Williams meant them.

"But… Why did you tell us this?" Tracey asked again. "I don't understand… Why would you trust this information to us, instead of giving it to the Professors."

"They wouldn't have believed it. And, in the case they did, what do you think would happen? Would they be ready to trust this stupid and questionable source when the school is about to close? Would they finally change the way they've been trying to fight the Heir for months? I don't know about you, but I bloody know the answer to those questions."

"And do you trust this note?" Blaise piped in.

"I wasn't sure, and that's why I consulted you. Now, I think this boy really believes what he wrote in the note—whether it will end as a useless bullshit or not it's something I intend to check with my own eyes," Williams paused a moment to stare at their eyes. "This boy is one of Harry Potter's closest friends, and God knows strange things happen around that boy. Moreover, I'm sure you two read the article about the gatekeeper. Even if it is full of Skeeter's nonsense, there must have been many truths on it, because that giant was booked to Azkaban without much preambles. The dots all connect, and that boy could have the key to solve this fuckery, or, at least, the answer to many questions."

"Tonight, I'll follow the spiders," he sentenced with a firm voice.

Blaise had no idea about what to do; he really wasn't expecting the meeting to take this course. Unlike him, Tracey was sure of how to proceed. "I'm coming with you," she stated. "If I can help my friends, I'll do whatever it takes."

Williams rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I knew this was coming," he let out an exasperated sigh. "However, it was necessary to tell you two about it—your distrustful reaction of me, rather than the shocked one I expected, helped me to understand that the Gryffindor boy really believed in what he wrote."

He stared at Tracey with a firm gaze. "I won't stop you, mainly, because, if it was the other way around, if it was me one to be on your shoes, I'd also have the same fire in the eyes as you do. However…" He tapped his finger on the table with force. "I'll allow you to come, but you must do all I say; at every moment, in every circumstance. As a prefect, I was tasked with the responsibility of looking out for you. I know what I'm doing puts you in danger, but an extra wand is always welcomed, especially, in these dangerous times."

Tracey nodded her head without any hesitation.

On the contrary, Blaise's mind was swarmed by doubts. In front of him, there was a chance to help Ron, however, it was as dangerous as it could be. For you, Ron would have jumped into it without any second thought, a part of him reasoned. I'm not him, another argued back.

Unbeknownst to the boy, both Williams and Tracey were staring at him. "We'll be leaving soon," the girl started, her attention fixed on the prefect once again. "I need to prepare myself." She sent one last look at Blaise—one of disgust.

What should I do?

"Don't be late," Williams told her. "I'm going all out on this chance, but it might fail right at the start," those words made Tracey come to halt, turning around in an instant. "To get out of the common room, I can easily deal with Crowley, however, the security measures in the castle were greatly increased after the last attack. Probably, Snape will be around the common room's entrance. As you can imagine, if that happens, there is no future for us and our plan."

What should I do? I need to make a choice…

"Neville will wait for us outside, he'll manage to trick Snape," Tracey stated without a hint of doubt in her voice. "One way or another, he'll manage. I trust him." After a few seconds of staring, Williams nodded his head in response. "Five minutes to go," the girl continued. "I'll be back in no time." She sprinted towards the bedroom's corridor, darkness swallowing her figure as soon as she stepped in it.

What should I do?

Blaise could feel the prefect's eyes on him, but he was too lost in his mind to care. I need to make a choice! As Tracey's footsteps resounded nearby, the boy closed his eyes as he leaned back on the couch. Fool, you took the decision long ago.

The next time Blaise opened them, he saw how Williams knocked out cold the Head Girl, taking her by surprise with some bright gleam of his left hand, of a red colour, the moment his hand touched her chest. Blaise observed how the door closed behind them.

This time, Tracey did not bother to look back at him.


Tracey Davis POV

Snape wasn't around, but neither was Neville.

Amidst the darkness of the dungeons, the quiet voice of Williams reached her ears. "We need to move now," the prefect ordered. His silhouette was part of the darkness itself. At some point, the boy had put the hood of his robes on, of a black colour that completely mimicked the environment. "We can't create any lights here, so you'll have to trust my orientation."

"Tracey?" A voice whispered from her left.

She was able to reprimed a gasp, but when her body turned to face the noise, there was a penumbra there. As fast as lighting, Williams drew his wand as he moved in front of her. "Longbottom, is that you?" He asked with a firm voice.

Instead of answering, out of thin air, the boy's body materialised in front of them. Nevilled looked relieved to see her there, but he also sent Tracey a questioning look. "There is no time to exchange pleasantries," Williams took the word. "I'm with you, that's all you need to know. Now, let's bloody move before Snape can find us."

Following his steps, the two younger students walked after the prefect. "I managed to lure Snape away from here," Neville quietly whispered.

"I don't how the hell did you do it, but he won't take long to figure out something is out of place," not stopping his stride for an instant, the prefect looked back at the Gryffindor. "Even if I wasn't trying to notice your presence, I should have felt your magical aura as soon as you got so close to us. Say, can you do it again? Otherwise, Snape will be onto us in no time."

"Magical aura?" Tracey questioned.

"I can do it," Neville replied at the same time. He hesitated for a second, she could tell. However, in the end, the boy pulled some strange fabric out of his robes. It was as dark as night, and when he pulled it over the both of them, Tracey was enveloped by a cold warmth, if that was even possible. She felt safe, but at the same time, looking at the world through the translucent silk, she could feel as if some strange whispers came from her back. "This is just an invisible cloak, Harry's," the boy reassured her in a much quieter voice. He must have noticed her tense posture. "I know it feels weird, but it will cover us no matter what."

"An invisible cloak won't fool Snape," Williams let them know as he ran forward, His steps made no noise, and much to her surprise, Tracey realised it also happened to hers.

"This one will," Neville stated.

Williams didn't reply to the statement. "I'm going to completely shut my magical aura down," he warned them. Whatever the hell it meant, he made it sound like a big deal. "The Silencing Charm I've placed on us will disappear, and I will be unable to do any form of magic until I deem it otherwise. I don't know what the hell that cape is, but it is very special since I can't detect your magic; it doesn't matter how hard I try. You two must follow me, I'll get us out of the castle by some secret corridors. Just try to not make any noise."

Moving through the darkness like a shadow, Williams guided them across the corridors. They found no one in their way, but Tracey still kept a close watch on everything. A few times, her heart almost leaped out of her body when the figure of an armour gleamed under the feeble light of the blue fire from the torches.

They were about to leave the dungeons when Williams suddenly came to a halt, signalling them to stop by raising his hand in the air. The stairway which led to the upper level was just in front of them, but the prefect ignored it and looked at the wall to their left. Meanwhile, Tracey eyed their surroundings—it was the first time she had ever explored the castle after nightfall, and whether it was because of the atmosphere created by the Heir or because of how scared she was of every silhouette, the girl wished for it to be the first and the last one of her night adventures.

Neville used the moment of peace to whisper his doubts into her ears. "Why is that prefect here?" The boy asked in a barely audible whisper, so soft and quiet that she almost missed it. "Can we really trust him?"

I mean, he's already here, so whether he is of trust or not won't make a difference. She was about to answer when Williams let out a relieved sigh. The prefect tapped a specific point of the wall with his wand, right under the draw of some giant lion fighting a winged spider. The next second, some of the surface was pulled inwards as if sucked by some strange force, leading to a very short and narrow hole.

"It has been ages since I last used this," Williams said as he crouched down. "It's even smaller than I remembered, but it gets better as it goes deeper into the castle." He sent a last look at them—at least, to where he believed them to be, even though he missed the mark by a few metres. "This will get us out of the castle, but we'll appear right under the Great Lake, so I want you to do as I say at every moment." Without further preamble, he crawled into the hole.

Nevilled sent her an inquiring look, one she answered with a nod of her head.

They followed Williams into the passage. It truly was a little hole, but wide enough for the two of them to get inside at the same time. There, still crawling and observing the narrow space under the dark silk of the cloak, a subtle light was born in front of them. Oh, he brought a lantern!

"I came prepared," Williams commented as if reading her thoughts. Then he started to move forward as best as he could, not granting them any moment to take a breath.

"Wait, didn't you just say you weren't going to do any magic?" Neville piped in. "Are we out of danger here?"

"This isn't magic, idiot," the prefect grunted. "Honestly, I've been part of the Wizarding World for six years and you folks still manage to surprise me about how little you know about my people."

Williams wasn't one to anger, Tracey noted. "Okay," Neville muttered, a bit taken aback due to his irked reply. The light wasn't strong enough to allow her to observe his features, but she could tell the Gryffindor was nervous—more than he usually was in any demanding situation, which already was something to worry about.

"So, I guess it means we can't get out of the cloak yet, right?" Tracey tried to calm the atmosphere as they crawled forward, following the prefect with no little trouble. Dear Merlin, God, or whoever is up there watching us, I didn't know crawling could be this difficult! "Could you tell us why it is so important for us to be under the cloak? If you don't mind, of course." She ended up adding, just in case.

"Because you two have no idea about how to control your magic," Williams replied. He paused for a moment to stand on his feet. It seemed the passage had reached the point in which it got better, like he said. "Come on, you can get up now. There's still a long way to go, but we won't be crawling anytime soon."

Tracey and Neville got up with difficulties. She could feel how her knees and elbows sighed with relief.

The prefect resumed his walk; the lantern strongly gripped on his left hand as his wand was held by his right. "Back to your question, as I said, you have zero control over your magic, and because of that, you can't conceive your presence," Williams continued. "Any wizard who is decent enough would be able to locate your presence—the skilled one is, the easier it will get. That being said, there are many more factors on it, but this ain't a theoretical class. What you need to know is the fact you are quite easy to track if someone puts a little effort into the task, and—don't ask me for a reason, because I have no idea—that cloak of yours completely hides your presence to the world."

Those words danced in her mind, but it was Neville the one to voice their doubts. "I didn't understand a thing," the boy confessed, a bit embarrassed.

"Look, you just need to imagine yourself as a human campfire," Williams said after a few seconds of silence. "Even the feeblest of the fires emits light, one any human can see—the weaker it is, the more difficult it will be to notice. Now, I'm a bigger campfire, one who is aware of its flames and knows how to control them. If, at any moment, I need to extinguish myself to go unnoticed, I will easily put the flames out, and thanks to it, no one will see me—because I got rid of the light that magic is, do you understand that? I won't be able to warm or light anyone as long as I remain extinguished, but no one will be able to locate me in the dark, no matter how much I brightened the moment before."

The hell was that explanation? However, Tracey was able to grasp the general idea, or so she thought. "So, you can't do magic because you turned your magic switch off, am I right?" She asked. "But we can't do that because we have no idea where that switch is, right?"

"Exactly," Williams answered. "Fortunately, that cloak turns your switch off for you—better said, it covers your switch." He let the words hang in the air as if he had realised something. "Wait, actually, can you do magic under that cloak?"

Tracey grabbed her wand from her pocket. "Lumos," she muttered. Atop of the wand was born a bright yet little ball of light. Neville's face became visible for the first time in what felt like ages; he looked at her with evident relief on his face, a feeling she also shared—darkness wasn't of their liking. Williams had also become more visible. In fact, he now looked at them with a surprised look on his face, still walking backwards through the passage.

"You can cast a spell under the cloak," he commented. "In fact, I can't even see the ball of light, I just know you casted it because it's pouring out from the bottom, where the cloak raises over the ground at some steps. I thought… Well, I had come with this theory about the cloak disabling your magical aura, even if you weren't aware of it yet. It turns out I was wrong, though. What's more incredible is the fact I could not sense the spell." His eyes looked at them weirdly—there was a strange glint in his eyes.

She felt how Neville tensed by her side. The boy made a move to grab his wand, but it didn't come out of his pocket. "That's some very precious treasure you got there, Longbottom," Williams pointed out. Finally, Tracey identified the strange glint in his eyes. It was greed—the cloak had really caught his interest! However, the prefect turned around with a shake of his head. "You better take care of it," he said. "And don't ever show it to other people. They won't be as nice as I am."

Neville's shoulder relaxed a bit, even though the grip on his wand didn't falter. From where the hell did Harry get that cloak? I thought he had no idea about the Wizarding World until the start of first year. Too lost in her mind to notice the change of surface, Tracey's feet almost lost its step due to the slippery floor. She was able to react in time by grabbing Neville's arm. "Sorry," the girl apologised.

"I told you this passage was right under the lake," Williams told them. "The end must be close."

Guiding her wand downwards, the ball of light allowed her to see how the concrete, which had been completely smooth and unsoiled until then, now had a very thin layer of moss covering it. From the ceiling and through the walls, some little trails of water fell down to the ground. "How did you discover this?" Tracey asked the older student. She had no idea passages like this one existed in Hogwarts.

"I've been here for six years, that's a lot of time," Williams replied. "Besides, it's not like these hidden corridors are a secret. There are plenty of passages like this one, and many students know about most of them. Hell, even that stupid janitor uses them to surptise the students who roam the castle after nightfall. That being said, I think this corridor might be one of the few which isn't know by many. Also, it's one of the most useless ones—except, if you are in need of a desperate way to get out of the castle, of course."

Wow, Hogwarts is just… She had no words to describe how amazing the castle was—it had been almost two years since she first spent a night in it, and Tracey still knew nothing about it. That thought pulled her back to reality. We need to save Hogwarts, that's why we are here! We need to save Ron, Harry, Hermione and all those who were attacked by the Heir!

"Stop right here," Williamas told them. The prefect had stopped in front of a mossy wall, which marked the end of the corridor. "You can get out of the cloak now." He waited for them to become visible before resuming.

"Doesn't this make us visible," Neville asked as soon as he put the cloak back into his robes. "Or noticable, better said."

"It does," Williams nodded. "However, your little fires won't make a change, not when I'm about to lit a bloody flare to the eyes of those who might be keeping an eye on the castle's terrains." Tracey inquired about the meaning of those words, and he just showed it to her. Much to her surprise, his hand went through the wall as if it didn't exist, just to come back an instant later—the neck of his sleeve was totally soaked. "The Great Lake is just outside, and I will need to carry the three of us up."

"Up there, will there be people waiting for us?" Neville wondered.

"Maybe, but I know a shit about that," Williams answered as he put the lantern on a pocket inside his robes. Tracey's ball of light was the only source of clarity in the corridor. "If someone happens to be nearby, then we will be in big trouble—let it be an Auror or a Professor, they all are magnificent wizards and witches, and they will detect us as soon as we enter their range. However, if they chose to not keep a strict watch around the Lake, we might make it rather easily. There are many uncertainties, I know. Either way, no matter which one of those it turns out to be, you must run to the Forbidden Forest as fast as you can. There, I will do as much as I can to make them lose track."

"Wait, the note I gave you said we needed to follow the spiders into the Forest," Nevilled piped in before the prefect could get closer. "There are-"

"I got it all covered, Longbottom," Williams interrupted him with a sour voice. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd love to go on with our little mission. We can also sit here and chat about our lives if it pleases you—it ain't as if there was anything at play here, right? Just the school and some poor bastards who were petrified." Neville's face got as red as the brightest cherry in the world, but no more words came out of his mouth.

Williams embraced the boy, from his left side, with his arm under Neville's armpits. "Davis, hop onto my back and hold tight," he ordered. "I need my wand arm free."

Even if she felt really stupid, Tracey hopped onto the prefect's back and crossed her arms over his chest. He smelled surprisingly well. Focus on the mission. Now. Quite ashamed of herself, the girl thanked the lack of light of the passage—if her face was as red as it felt, Neville's got nothing to do against it.

All her childish thoughts were pulled out of her mind as soon as Williams jumped towards the wall. Her first instinct was to close her eyes, but she managed to fight it off. They went through the mossy surface and entered into the Lake.

A part of her would have loved to observe the many creatures that lived under the water; if possible, the great squid she had heard so much about. However, more than a lake, it looked like an endless pit of darkness—due to her surprise, which completely broke her focus, the ball of light had vanished from the tip of her wand.

Then, she realised they could breathe—they were under the water, yet the air was as fresh as it always was on the surface. Moreover, her robes were completely dry! "Alarte Ascendare," the voice of Williams resounded over Neville's surprised gasps. Even if she couldn't see a thing, Tracey sure felt the speed in which they moved—with the speed of a Nimbus, they rocketed upwards.

After a few seconds, the sea of darkness started to disappear. The firsts specs of light meet her eyes, and then, like an arrow would pierce a man's flesh, Tracey and her two companions break through the water and above. Up in the air, the light of the full moon fell over them—as a soft wind ruffled her loose hair, she felt like a proud eagle.

Needless to say, the adrenaline went away as soon as their bodies started to freefall. A timid gasp came out of her throat, but it was Neville who gave it all. "You need to do something!" He exclaimed to the older boy.

Williams completely ignored him.

As the speed of their fall got faster and faster, the wind against her face became the only sound she could hear. Suddenly, as she started to think about the fatal end they were about to meet, a strong gale crashed against her back. It left her breathless, but they were no longer falling down. Instead, it launched them forward, towards the furthest shore from the castle. As they got closer, a softer streak of wind came from the front, decreasing their speed bit by bit.

Tracey felt about to puke, so she closed her eyes. A few seconds and some breathless gasps later, when she opened her eyes again, she realised they had already landed. Also, she was still clutching to the prefect as hard as she could. With an embarrassed squeak, Tracey dropped herself down from the older boy's back. Her legs trembled as they hit solid ground, but she felt much safer now.

"The hell was that spell!" Neville gasped, his back bent forward as his arms rested over his knees, trying to regain the breath he lost during the fall. "Never ever have I seen something like that!"

"Then you've seen very little," Williams replied as he looked around, scanning the deserted shore. "Come one, put the cloak over you and let's get as far from here as we can. No one saw us, I think." He started to run uphill, and they followed him after a few seconds, which Nevilled needed to get the cloak out of his robes—their feet might have felt safer on land, but the boy's hand still trembled as they searched for the cloak.

As soon as they crowned the hill, they kept running forward—every few seconds, Williams scanned the place around with some quick looks. They ran and ran until the first trees of the Forbidden Forest were at sight; their big roots acting as some kind of symbolic barrier.

"It wasn't a spell," Williams suddenly said once they got into the Forest. "What you asked me about, I mean. I manipulated the winds to carry us, but, as you saw, it ain't something I've practised a lot. That's control of our magic in its purest form, just as the skill to conceive our presence is. Incredible, eh? The many amazing things we can accomplish with our magic…"

The feeble light of the moon poured between the thicket—to her, the trees' branches looked like very large arms trying to get their hands on them, with their leaves acting as long, shady fingers. Tracey had never stepped into the Forbidden Forest before, much less after nightfall, and it was then when she understood the reason behind its name.

As the dry leaves and little branches cracked under her feet, as the faintest of the sounds became loud and sombre noises, the girl remembered all the stories about the Forest—the many dangerous creatures that lived there; those myths about students getting deep into it just to never comeback; the legend about how the Forest itself was alive and how it expanded whenever a fool tried to venture inside, trapping them for eternity…

Think about Ron! Think about Harry and Hermione! Tracey saw the bodies of her three friends, laying completely inert one the beds of the medical wing… Was this stupid forest really going to scare her? Because of some silly legends and myths that were invented to frighten the first-years? Fear was what her friends must have experienced when they faced the Heir of Slytherin, not this.

"What's the plan?" Tracey asked the prefect, who still ran several steps ahead of them. Williams didn't run as fast as they could, but neither had he stopped for a second. He doesn't want to tire us. Even if we are running under the cloak, we can still run much faster than this, she noted. Neville and she were of a similar height, him being a tad taller. Despite that, she was in a much better physical condition, and so, he was the first one to show signs of tiredness.

"We are going to follow the spider, as Longbottom told us," Williams replied. He took a slight turn to the left, where the vegetation looked to be less dense—still, from time to time, they needed to jump over the thick roots of those large trees that were in their way. They look as if they wanted to grab us with their roots… Oh, come on, you totally need to snap out of this! Are you really gonna be scared of some bloody plants? What are they gonna do, throw some leaves at you?

Tracey almost crashed into Williams' back, who suddenly came to a halt. Thankfully, Neville could grab her arm before the girl could run into the older boy. "You two wait here for me," he commanded with a firm voice. A last look of warning was sent at them, as if he didn't fully trust them to obey his order.

"Hagrid's hut," Neville muttered by her side.

Tracey had been too lost in her silly thoughts to pay any attention to her surroundings. All she had seen in the last minutes had been trees and more trees, but now she stood at the boundaries of the Forest, right in front of the gatekeeper's hut.

From her spot, she appreciated how the plants and crops around the house had been left to rot. Even before Williams reached the door, it was already open with its hinges destroyed; whoever broke inside had no qualms about the damages caused to the property. There was an iron lantern embedded on the wooden wall right over the door, its bright light allowed her to see a few dents and scratches on the walls. I guess he didn't let them take him to Azkaban without a fight… Honestly, I really feel sorry for him.

For many minutes, enough to make her nervous as she's ever been, they waited. Williams had ventured inside without giving them any explanation. The hell is he doing? Tracey started to bite her nails, a bad habit she's had since her memory allowed her to know; one her mother had tried to to make her quite many times—futile attempts, if she may add. However, she stopped the moment Neville sent her a quizzical look.

Finally, Williams came out of the hut with a calm stride. As he walked back towards them, the perfect signalled at the Forest with the point of his wand. "That way," he announced. He went past them without further words. On their part, the two friends followed the prefect as he told them to do. After a few minutes of silence, Williams created a big ball of life at the tip of his wand; of a size bigger than a basketball.

Tracey really appreciated the light; they had already ventured into a deeper part of the Forest, one in which the thicket barely allowed the moon's light to pass through it—last time, as they walked towards Hagrid's hut, the prefect had taken them near the Forest boundaries, trying to use the thicket as a cover, but now… It was time to deepen into the Forbidden Forest's heart.

"You can take the cloak out," Williams told them in a quiet voice. "I think we already are out of their radar; we've been for a while, I would say. Besides, you need to be prepared for what might come," those words made them stumble a bit, and he saw it. "Just in case," the prefect reassured them. "The Forest is a dangerous place. Many students take it as a joke, mainly, because most of the myths about it are rubbish. However, there are dangerous creatures here; the deeper, the worse. I trust myself to protect you, but… Yeah, get your wands at hand, just in case."

Tracey and Neville did it.

Back when they first stepped into the forest, the faintest of the noises had put her in a state of total alert. However, now it was different and much worse. There were no noises in the Forest; nothing. It was just them and their footsteps, no insects, owls, or whatever magical creature was supposed to live there. She could hear her own breathing, it didn't matter how much she tried to focus on the prefect's back.

"How… How do you know this is the right way?" Neville asked after five minutes of tense silence.

"I'm just doing what you wrote in the note," Williams replied as he stepped aside. With a nod of his head, he beckoned them to observe what lay ahead of him. The bright light of his wand allowed them to see a large spider that moved forward at a frenzied pace. It must have been as large as her hand, with legs as thick as her fingers.

"An acromantula," Neville muttered by her side. Williams raised an impressed brow at him. "I once saw one when I tried to buy some exotic plant at the Upper District of Diagon Alley," he explained, a bit self-conscious, as if he had said something he shouldn't. "It was even bigger than this one, and… Well, yeah, that's all."

"This little one is barely an offspring," Williams said, his eyes focused on the acromantula once again. "I don't know why the gatekeeper told you to follow the spiders, but I don't really care about it, to be honest. That man—either yet to be proven guilty or innocent—is clearly related to the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin. I know he's a friend of yours and Harry Potter; that's the only reason why I trust his words, let it be said. Does he think we'll find any answer by following the spiders? Then we'll storm into their very nest, if necessary."

That thing is a little one? Tracey thought about Ron and her friends. It helped the girl to avert those mental images of giant spiders, with their large legs and hairy pincers, looming over her and Neville. Williams will protect us, he promised it. Moreover, Ron once told me he kinda admires him… He must be incredible, right?

"Now that I think about it, how did you come up with that information about the spiders?" Tracey asked the boy by her side. She wanted to talk; about anything—it didn't matter the topic of the conversation, it would always be better than replaying those images of gigantic spiders in her head.

Neville scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I still don't know why he did it, but," he started. "Right after Hermione and the other girl were attacked, Hagrid managed to intercept me as I made my way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He told me that he had very few hours before the Ministry would come to ship him to Azkaban, and that he was innocent of whatever nonsense they would accuse him of. Of course, I believed him. Hagrid looked about to cry right there when I told him that," he paused a moment before continuing. His eyes looked down at the ground as he kicked a litte rock with force. "Then we arranged a meeting which would take place that very night."

"Only that, well," Neville continued. "We had loads of trouble getting out of the castle, even with the cloak. By the time we made it, it was too late for him. That young Auror, Sweeney, took Hagrid with her as we watched it from the safety the cloak grated us. It hurt, oh, it hurt like hell. But Hagrid trusted us. He knew we would come as I promised him, so he recited the words you read on the note for us to know about the spiders."

"The attack on the two girls took place a while ago," Williams pointed out. "If you trusted him so much, why didn't you act sooner?" There was a hidden meaning behind those words, even if it wasn't intentional—maybe, the attacks on Ron and Harry could have been avoided had you acted, it practically screamed.

Tracey was about to vouch for her friend when Neville replied. "Perhaps you are right," the boy said. Much to her surprise, he didn't sound intimidated or scared, it was more of a thoughtful tone with a slight accent of regret—obviously, he had already thought about that scenario multiple times. "We tried, trust me, but it was impossible. The security measures were as strict as they had ever been; Aurors, Professors and older prefects patrolled Hogwarts at every bloody second of the day. We looked for the perfect chance, but it didn't come to us. And then… Then Harry and Ron were attacked…"

No one uttered a single word after that.

Tracey tried to look around, as far as Williams' spell allowed her. She couldn't believe how much they had deepened into the Forbidden Forest! After more than thirty minutes of nonstop walking, the girl felt her legs protest—it was an uphill area, one very large, with thick and dark trees all over the place. At the beginning, remnants of some old path had put her mind at ease, but now, in that stretch of the Forest where the tree's roots got in their way like a bludger would, she couldn't help herself but to get closer to Williams, in search of whatever safety that action could gran her.

They finally crowned the hill. There, the moon's light fell upon them thanks to a great and empty area. Around them, if her poor knowledge about plants wasn't wrong, tall pines and firs surrounded them from every direction—the vegetation was incredibly dense, but there was one point, a natural path at the end of the clearing, in which the trees moved away as if repelled by some force.

"That way," Williams announced. With a firm stride, the prefect led the way once again. It looked to be the only path forward, but still, it amazed Tracey how easy it was for the older boy to move through such a scary place.

"I know I've asked this before, but how can you be so sure that this is the correct path?" Neville voiced out her doubts.

"Acromantulas might be spider's relatives, but there is a very important fact that differentiates them," Williams explained. "They are magical creatures—in some way or another, magic is bound to them. When compared to us, humans—especially, when talking about a especimen as little as this one—it would be like comparing a forest fire to a little spark of a lighter. However, magic still shines upon them." He turned his head to send them a sidelong glance. "Longbottom, you tried to snuggle a dragon out of Hogwarts last year, right?"

The hell? Tracey sent a surprised look to his friend, one pretty similar to the one Neville sent at the prefect. "Yeah. How…"

"A boy by the name of Theodore Nott gave me the tip," Williams replied. "Up to this day, I still ignore the reason behind his actions, but I couldn't care less about it; in the end, it helped us to win the House Cup, it's all that matters to me. Anyhow, back to the main topic. Ron was supposed to meet with you that night, but he didn't. I'm the one to blame there, but, say, did he ever tell you what I did to him that night?"

"No."

"I gave him a taste of Magical Transmutation," Williams went on. "A technique in which I fuel my magic with my raw emotions, let it be to direct it towards others or to create an aura of influence around me. I think it was inspired by some lost art from the Ancient Times that got lost long ago, some kind of shite with special metals. Anyhow, I swarmed his mind with all kinds of dark thoughts: fear, malice, bloodlust… And why I am telling you this, you may ask. Well, because that's what I did to our little friend there."

As he talked, the two younger students had gotten closer to the prefect, to a point in which they almost walked by his sides. From there, they saw how his wand pointed at the acromantula, which still moved with frenzied movements. I now get it, Tracey came to a realisation. From the very beginning, it has been running away from us!

She voiced out her thoughts, which were received by an impressed whistle from Williams. "Ten points for Slytherin," he commented with dry humour. "You hit the nail on the head, Davis. This technique of Magical Transmutation can be applied to any living being that is intelligent enough to feel the most primal of the instincts; the need to survive. However, it works much better on magical beings, like us, or like that acromantula—I think it has to do with what I just said about it being a copy of a much ancient technique, but that isn't of our concern right now."

"The thing is I filled that creature with the vilest and darkest thought I could come up with," the prefect continued. "Moreover, and the key factor here, is the fact I instilled another emotion in his primitive mind: the safety of its nest."

Williams got silent again and resumed his watch on the acromantula, but he didn't need to elaborate much on the topic. Who the hell is this guy? Tracey slowed her pace a bit, too busy sending a shocked stare at the prefect's back to keep with his bigger stride.

That boy was a muggle-born, therefore, he learnt about magic's existence at the age of eleven. Tracey knew pureblood kids often were more talented at magic than those whose blood disgusted them—mainly, because of how much time and knowledge they had in advantage. But Williams… All the things he said about manipulating the winds, about conceiving one's presence, and now this… He was known as the muggle-born who managed to be respected within Slytherin; one of Professor Snape's favourites.

At that moment, she understood why.

The journey progressed without many incidents. There was one time in which the acromantula stopped due to a little and narrow brook the creature found on its way, but Williams just levitated it over the water. More than an hour should have passed since they ventured into the Forest, or she thought—but it all looked the same.

Until it didn't. "We are being watched from every direction," Williams let them know in a whisper. Just like that, as if he had just commented about how cool the air felt. "Don't panic. Just have your wands ready at hand."

I can cast the Severing Charm and the Fire-Making Spell well enough… Will the Expelliarmus work against these creatures? No, I don't think so… Shit, shit, what should I do? Tracey felt a hand over her shoulder; it was Neville's.

"Don't worry, we'll be back at the castle in no time at all," he tried to put a facade of calm over his words, but he failed quite miserably. Still, Tracey nodded back at him with the hint of a nervous smile.

Suddenly, two large, black forms lunged at them from atop of the tall trees. Tracey shrieked louder than she had ever done it. Out of instinct, her hand pointed the wand at the two dark silhouettes; they crashed against an invisible wall, two metres over their heads.

Under the light of Williams' spell, the girl made out the form of two gigantic acromantulas, both of them bigger than a horse. With their large and hairy legs, the creatures circled around them much faster than a human should have been able.

Williams raised his hand in the air to lower Neville's wand, which was starting to emit a red gleam. "Hagrid," the prefect said in a loud voice. "We are Hagrid's friends. His friends. We want to help Hagrid, and we need you." He repeated the same words a second time, much slower this time.

The acromantulas slowed their pace, even though their pincers still threatened them with frenzied movements—there was a long trail of white spit coming out of their thin and large mouths, with a dozen of sharp teeth of the same colour. "We are Hagrid's friends," Wiliams repeated, even though his wand was now pointed at the closest acromantula.

Traecy prepared herself for the worst. Fortunately, it didn't come. "Hagrid," one of the acromantulas said. Its pronunciation was horrid, so much that, for a moment, Tracey thought fear had taken over her mind and she was now imagining things. "Aragog!"

"Aragog!" The other one echoed. "Aragog! Hagrid!"

They can speak our language! The two acromantulas kept repeating those words as they ignored the three of them to walk forward. "We follow them," Williams ordered as he led the way.

In less than five minutes, the creatures led them to a very large clearing, with a very beautiful view to the many stars that shone upon it. Its boundaries were delimited by a thousand trees that had been cut at the roots—there were signs of chipping and nicking in every one of them, as if they had been cut down by sheer brute force. Many skeletons, which belonged to a wide assortment of animals, lay all over the place; some of them covered by cobwebs, while others had been turned into white and silky cocoons.

Yet, what took the breath out of her was the tree which stood at the end of the clearing, right in the middle. It was as tall as the Gryffindor Tower, with the thickness of a classroom. And from it descended the largest spider Tracey had ever seen… No, the largest spider she could have ever imagined—as big as an elephant, with pearly white hair over his legs and head, the acromantula descended from atop of the tree, echoed by an orchestra of monstrous cries. "Aragog! Hagrid!" A hundred voices claimed.

"Humans," it said. "But none is Hagrid, my old friend." Ten metres above the ground, the acromantula sent them a long stare. "I have no use of them. Kill the humans and feast on their blood and flesh."

It began to ascend as dozens of acromantulas, of a similar shape to those that had accompanied them, jumped into the clearing from every direction. Williams let out a grunt as a fire whip was born from the tip of his wand. Yet it was Neville who possibly saved them. "Wait! Hagrid is in danger!" The boy exclaimed atop of his lungs. "He could die!" The leader of the acromantulas stopped out of the blue, right in the middle of the large tree.

Slowly, it turned around. "Die? Hagrid?" Its voice sounded surprised, even worried—it was too human for her to not freak about it. "Hagrid has never sent any men into our nest," its large pincers furiously clicked with each word. "But… If he's in trouble… Hagrid…" The acromantula jumped to the ground.

Cobwebs and leaves alike were blown away with its landing, and the smell of death and rotten flesh filled her nostrils. She puked right on the spot. "The Chamber of Secrets!" The voice of Neville reached her ears amidst her loud retchings. From the corner of her eye, the girl saw how Williams stood in front of her, facing three acromantulas that looked to ignore the moment of truce.

"The Chamber of Secrets!" Aragog let out a furious cry. Suddenly, ten acromantulas lunged at the three which posed a threat to the humans. They were torn apart by their own. She puked again—this time, not even Williams could hide his whitening face.

Neville ignored the disgusting espectacle to talk with Aragog. "Someone opened it again!" The Gryffindor shouted. "We know Hagrid is innocent! That's why we are here. We want to help him! It was him who told us to come here, to follow the spiders, when he was sent to Azkaban!"

"Again. It happens again," Aragog said. "He protected me when I was little, when everyone accused me of a crime I didn't commit. I had never killed a human, but they feared me! Hagrid paid the price for someone else's acts!" Its voice came out much quieter then. "He found me a wife… He's the one who allowed our family to grow and survive… But the Monster of the Chamber… There is nothing we can do about it—not fifty years ago, much less now."

"The Monster!" Williams piped in. "What can you say about it? Any information could be the key to save Hagrid!"

Once again, Aragog began to ascend through the tree's log, yet its voice perfectly reached them. "We do not speak of the Monster… Of the Mightiest of the Snakes! But Hagrid…" It stopped in the middle, its back turned to them. "Whenever its going to commit a murder, the Monster moves through the pipes. But it always comes back to the same spot. The bathroom where the girl was murdered."

A loud cry was heard all over the clearing; Aragog's lament. In less than a second, more than a hundred of acromantulas swarmed them—watchful of their wands, but closing in the distance with each instant. "I'm their leader, but I'm growing old," Aragog's voice was heard over them. "For the sake of Hagrid, they let me share this information with you. However, I can not stop them from ending their famish—it is not everyday when such a succulent and abundant flesh comes to us so willingly. Goodbye, friends of Hagrid. You tried, but the Monster can not be stopped."

"Run!" Williams shouted.

Tracey was too shocked to do a thing, but her legs moved by themselves. She ran as fast as she had ever done, with Neville following her closely. The first ten acromantulas appeared in her sight. They tried to cut their escape, but a dome-like structure was born out of the ground as the creatures lunged at them—some loud thuds were heard as their bodies impacted with the solid rock. The cover moved forward as they did, acting as a tunnel, with both ends totally closed.

Williams passed her by the left. "I can't keep this shield up for long!" He exclaimed between ragged breaths. "As soon as we get out of the clearing you two must run without looking back," he hesitated for a second. "In case something happens to me, deliver this message to the Headmaster: the key to the Monster and the Chamber is in Myrtle's bathroom… Now, run!"

The dome-like shield opened to the sides like a fan, pushing aside those acromantulas that had been walking around it. Williams bent his back to grab a bit of dirt from the ground. Then he tossed it forward as his wand was pointed at the particles. A rain of metal arrowheads showered the smaller acromantulas that waited for them at the end of the clearing—their bodies fell to the ground as their blood painted the grass black.

Tracey ran and ran, not looking back once. We can't let Williams behind! A voice inside her head screamed. However, as the dog-sized acromantulas kept swarming them, it quickly shut up. Tracey held her wand in her right hand with a strong grip, yet she didn't dare to use it—what could she do against such ferocious creatures? From the corner of her eye, the girl saw how a wipe of fire protected them from the spiders, but it wasn't enough.

There were too many of them.

Williams let out a furious grunt from behind. To his call, the tall and thick trees bent with the flexibility of a gymnast right after Neville and Tracey ran through the little space the logs granted them as they descended. When she looked back,a solid wall of trees separated them from the path to the nest—not a single acromantula nor Williams made it to the other side.

"Daniel!" Tracey shouted as she ran towards the brown and green wall.

Neville practically tackled the girl to stop her. With unbelievable strength, he pulled her forward, putting metre after metre between them and the monsters. "We need to get back to the castle!" The boy told her. At some point, which went totally unnoticed to her, Nevilled had casted a strong lumos that allowed them to see their surroundings.

Ron would never leave someone behind. She kicked and punched—Neville took a few hits without complaints, even though she wasn't even aiming at him. Tracey just wanted to open a hole in the wall and go back to help Williams. What will you do, fool? You weren't brave enough to even aim your wand at the spiders when he was by your side! She finally surrendered—what was the point, really?

"Williams told us to pass his message to the Headmaster, and that's what we are going to do," his voice came out a bit hoarse, yet he led the way with a firm stride. "Harry, Ron and Hermione depend on us… No, everyone needs us to make it back!"

She looked back a few times, hoping to see the prefect running towards them—he would surely scream at them because of their slow pace. Not a single noise came from behind.

Minute after minute passed—at some point of the night, with the moon slowly making its way down. Finally, they reached the hill they had crowned on the way to the nest. From that point, the Astronomy Tower could be seen through the thicket, far away from them. "The worst part is over," Neville announced, looking back at her with a timid and relieved smile. It quickly disappeared as soon as he caught a glimpse of her pale face.

"We abandoned him to his death," Tracey muttered.

"If it was the other way around, if it was you the one who needed to sacrifice herself for the future of Hogwarts and our friends, you would have done it," Nevilled said as he grabbed her hand to drag the girl downhill. "Williams was ready to give everything up," his face lightened for a second. "Besides, we didn't see him falling down. He created that wall for us to escape, he's a fantastic wizard! He could have found a way to escape from the acromantulas!"

"Do you really believe that?" Tracey replied. She didn't, and from the way Neville's face darkened, neither he did.

The way down was done in absolute silence. Until an acute scratching broke it with the strength of a hammer. Tracey was left rotted on the spot. "This can't be happening," she whispered.

Neville just made her run. "The forest's exit isn't far away, we can make it!"

She could almost hear the thousand tapping the acromantulas' thin legs created as they pursued them. Fear made her look at their behind, an action that probably saved her life. Shot as a bullet, a burst of white cobweb came at her—by sheer instinct, she managed to react in time, pushing Neville aside. They rolled downhill, just to stop as their backs collided with a tree.

The first spider, one as large as a big dog, lunged at them with a blood-freezing shriek. "Diffindo!" Neville shouted as he stood in front of her. The acromantula fell to the ground, lifeless, as its body was cut in a half. It only angered the rest.

This time, it was Tracey the one to pull from the boy as he sent another Severing Charm at their pursuers. We need to make it! With her eyes still focused on the road ahead, Tracey sent two Fire-Making Spell backwards—a loud hiss told her how accurate she was. They fired one spell after the other as they tried to escape. However, the creature's bloodthirst proved to be too much for them.

Tracey took a sharp turn to the left as a giant acromantula landed where they've just been. "Arresto Momentum!" The voice of Neville reached her ears, even though she was too busy running to see the result of his spell.

Like furious raindrops, the smaller spiders lunged at them from the trees. It came deep out of her, born from the stress and horror of the situation. "Get away!" She exclaimed. Exhaustion hit her like a bludger as uncountable acromantulas were repelled by a furious gale. Tracey almost tripped, but managed to regain his footing with the help of Neville.

Black points started to appear in her vision, and she could do nothing but to see how her hand loosened the grip on her wand. It fell to the ground as her fingers tried to get a hold of it.

For a few seconds, Tracey lost track of everything but her heartbeat. Then she felt the air hitting her right in the face as Neville let out a loud gasp—they had fallen from a precipice, and the ground looked closer with each instant. "Flipendo!" Neville shouted as his wand appeared in front of her eyesight.

His grip around her hips tightened as the faint, purple light was shot to the ground below. It hit, and their fall was greatly reduced. Tracey landed on her knees—a sharp pain shook her whole leg down, but she didn't have any strength left to even shout in pain. The girl tried to push her body up while Nevilled shot a few more spells. Her sight started to blur—was she losing her consciousness, or were tears blurring the world?

Mom… Dad… I don't wanna die. A delicate sound startled her, one similar to a faint whistle that was quickly replicated a hundred times—it had soundt so close to her ears! Had she finally lost her mind?

"Arrows?" Neville gasped near her. Wait, was he right over her body? Why couldn't she move?

She could only raise her head a bit, enough to discern the tall figure of a horseman who stood at the other end of the clearing. Wait, that isn't a man atop of a horse… Right? With fiery-orange hair falling all over his shoulders and arms strong enough to hold a bow larger than Albus Dumbledore himself, a centaur placed another arrow on the deathly weapon.

As the projectile came at her, Tracey's eyes finally gave up.


Albus Dumbledore POV

A few hours earlier…

The sombre atmosphere of the school was also palpable there, in his dear office—if possible, with even more intensity, enough to extend all his invisible fingers over Albus.

Oh, he could also feel the many eyes which were set on him, in fact, it was all he had felt since the last attack took place. They belonged to those Headmasters of the past, his predecessors. Some had passed the torch under the lights of greatness, while a fair amount did it unceremoniously. However, none of them had to experience such a tragic event like the one which had taken place that year—probably, Albus' and Hogwarts' last year. Not even his closest predecessor, Armando Dippet, who held the title of Headmaster before him, back when the Chamber of Secrets was opened for the first time, went through so much.

Back then, he had been saved by Tom, who put all the blame on poor Hagrid's shoulders—that day, an innocent boy was forbidden of his right to do magic, but thanks to that, Hogwarts was saved. This time, however, it would be impossible to repeat such a thing. First and foremost, because Albus would never allow it, and secondly, because, as much as it hurt him to say it, a muggle-born girl like Myrtle Warren, whose life was taken far too early, wasn't the same as Harry Potter.

Not nearly.

All the lives are equal, a little voice inside of him whispered. A whisper, that was it. Lives were not equal, and Albus knew it very well—it was something he had learnt the tough way, through pain and sacrifices. Harry Potter was the great hope of the magical world, even if the boy had no idea yet. Not only because of how much of a great wizard he could become, but because of what he represented. The boy was hope itself, the one who ended Lord Voldemort's reign of terror.

They were all wrong on that last point, though. Harry Potter didn't kill Tom, he just postponed his cruelty and ambition.

The day in which the Wizarding World would learn about his fake demise would come in the future—in a very far one, if fortune was to shine upon them, but it was bound to come. And when it happened, Harry Potter needed to shoulder the heavy weight of hope, one not even Albus could lift by himself.

However, unless he was to succeed, Harry Potter would never be prepared for such a weight—because the boy was gone, Hogwarts about to be closed and the Chamber of Secrets opened again.

Tom, how did you do it? The question ringed in his mind for the thousandth time in that year, but as the many other tries, the old man couldn't find an answer. He knew Tom was the one and only Heir of Slytherin—such a title would have never been passed to another person; emboldened by his great pride and arrogance, it was his and only his to have. Albus knew only his former student and enemy could open it and control the Monster, whatever the creature was. He also knew, or he hoped, at least, that Tom shouldn't have been able to accomplish such a feat in his current state, whatever it was.

Otherwise, the Chamber of Secrets would be the most insignificant of their problems…

"Albus, the Ministry asks for answers once again," a voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Minerva sent him a worried look; maybe, because of how silent he had been since the attack, or perhaps, because she also understood how bad the odds were. "So does the Board… I fear… I fear this is the end of Hogwarts."

"We have no time for them," Albus replied. Neither he had the spirit to face them at that moment. Selfish and egocentric bastards, that's all they were. They only cared about how these recent events would affect their lives, careers or fortunes. "Just close the school to anyone whom we don't know if we can trust—those terrified parents who really considered bringing their children back home have already done it. Now, Fawley and his juniors might give us some problems, but I'll talk to him if needed."

"Can we do that?" Minerva asked. She wore worried features on her face, but her eyes, as cold as they always were when danger came, told Albus that his old friend would support him and his decisions, no matter how strange they might sound.

"I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts," he stated. "I'll always do what's best for the school and its students. It doesn't matter how badly it could end for me." The witch nodded before making her way to the exit. "Wait a moment," Albus stopped her at the last second. "I want each one of you four to guard the common rooms of your respective Houses—that's the utmost priority. I myself, the other Professors and the Aurors will hunt the Heir… If that's even possible."

A last shadow of doubt appeared in her face. "Shouldn't we take the students back to their homes?" Minerva proposed. "I know what the stakes are, Albus, but I think this has reached a point of no return."

"I trust you four to protect them," Albus said as he laid back on his old chair. "If we were to evacuate them all, it would mean the end of Hogwarts; for many years to come, at least. Imagine the faces of all those children who'll be stripped from their education, Minerva… Just imagine their faces; of those we've already met, and of those who are yet to come." It enraged him so much, to a point in which he almost lost control over his magic. "With the four of you guarding the students, I know I still have one more chance—the last one. If I fail, the students shall be evacuated and I shall face the whole weight of law. I know it's a very selfish decision, proper for a selfish man like I am, but still, as the Headmaster, every single one of my decisions will have the wellbeing of the students and Hogwarts itself as the utmost priority. And so, I will try it nonetheless."

Minerva nodded her head and left the room without further questioning.

Now, I only have one more person to talk with. I hope his delusions of greatness don't take much of my precious time. With a tired sigh, Albus turned around to face the big and elegant fireplace of his office, still sitting on his chair. For a second, his eyes laid on the two unopened letters over his oak table—one signed by Arthur Weasley, and the other by Sirius Black. The old man looked away to face the fireplace; there, he tossed a bit of the powder he always carried in one of his pockets. The fire roared with life as the green flames danced in front of him.

The voice of Cornelius came out of it—he sounded really surprised. "Albus?" The Minister asked. "Oh, thank Merlin you finally answered!" Bit by bit, the silhouette of his face started to form in the fire. "Honestly, what did you hope to achieve by turning down every single one of my calls? You can't grasp the magnitude of the situation! I have the entire county with their wands at my neck!"

"I'm very sorry to hear that, my old friend," Albus replied. "However, there were matters I needed to take care of."

"First, it was Greengrass, Goldstein and Selwyn who came to my very office to seek answers about why their petitions to take their children out of Hogwarts had been left unanswered, and now-!"

"Those children already are in their houses," Albus interrupted him. He wanted to end the meeting as soon as possible—many and way more important matters needed his utmost attention. "As Mrs Umbridge requested in your name, I granted those three families what they wished. So far, no other owl came here with the same petition."

"This isn't about them anymore, Albus," Fudge went on. "Hogwarts needs to be closed. Immediately! We'll see what to do with the school in the future, but… This is an unprecedented scandal! I can already imagine what the rest of the Wizarding World will think of us as soon as their newspapers deliver the news!"

Let them think as they please, it's what they've been doing for decades. Albus needed to act. Now. "I'm sorry, Cornelius, but I must be running out of floo powder," Albus sighed. "I can't hear you well enough." He extinguished the flames with a muffled gasp as the Minister's last sound.

The old man sent a last look to his predecessor before stepping out of the office. Once outside, the first thing which caught his attention was the noise—the lack of it, to be precise. Hogwarts was completely silent. Oh, how wrong is this? The Heir had committed one of the gravest sins Albus could think of—was there anything cruller than to hunt down some innocent kids because of a stupid belief about pure and not-so-pure blood?

Even at the weakest he had ever been, Tom's vileness knew no limits.

The corridors were empty and dark; the light of the torches, the same that had warmed the coldest nights of the years months ago, now struggled to brighten the castle. Throughout history, many wizards and witches had believed that Hogwarts was, one way or another, alive—in fact, Albus has always been very fond of that theory, just as much of an avid believer. Today, at the apex of these past, dark months, the atmosphere could only prove him right.

Hogwarts was aware of the horrors committed, and it felt repulsed by them.

One day, Tom will pay for all the crimes he committed; for all the lives he destroyed. A sudden noise behind him was heard; those of quick footsteps. Albus already knew to whom they belonged; his magic had always been very easy to recognise—even during a tough youth, that special talent of his always managed to impress the Great Sorcerer. "I assume something very important happened that made you leave your duty, right, Severus?" Albus asked without turning to look at his old friend.

"Aurora is watching over the dungeons as we speak," the young Professor replied with a sour voice. "Something very strange happened to me an hour ago, indeed. I, suddenly, felt a presence near the common room, but just as fast as it had appeared, it went off. No traces of it—neither a magical trace, nor a person revealed by the most advanced spell of tracking I know."

Very strange, indeed. Very few things could fool Severus like that. A theory came to his mind. The cloak? But Harry lays petrified in the medical wing, just as Granger and Weasley are… Wait, don't tell me… It was a very foolish and reckless action the one Longbottom had taken, yet Albus could not suppress the faint smile that formed on his face. Ah, what would be of this world if those with a kind heart refused to fight against injusticities?

"Did you find anything?" Seveus' voice pulled the old man out of his mental rambling.

"Nothing," Albus replied with a tired sigh. "Once again, I am lost beyond words." They fell into sombre silence, one none of them broke.

Severus just walked back, towards the dungeons, probably. Meanwhile, Albus just tried to find a meaning to the new discovery. What does Longbottom know which I ignore? Maybe, something Harry and Ronald knew, and the reason why they were attacked? Last year, it was them, a group of five first-year students who saved the school—no, who saved the Wizarding World, even if they were not aware of it. He, the so-called Great Sorcerer, had grown too confident in a foolish supposition—in the end, Tom proved to him that, no matter what subhuman state he might be in, he was not to be taken lightly.

Tom, how did you do it? In the next few hours, as he searched for the faintest of the clues about the Chamber of Secrets, that question was repeated in his mind again and again. Albus could feel it. How Tom's grasp crawled all over his mind and body—Hogwarts' time was running out.

What he did not expect was to finally find the answer he had seeked for so long—much less, to find it the way Albus did. It found him, not the other way around, as it should have been.

At the doors of the Great Hall, Albus turned around with the speed of lighting as soon as a minuscule presence announced itself near him. The moment Longbottom had started to pull the cloak off his body, the rest of it was blown away by the strong winds that were born from around his body. The black piece of cloth flew into the Hall as Albus relaxed his stance. However, his face did not show it.

"H-Headmaster!" The boy said as best as he could. His breathing came out, raggedly, as he almost fell onto his knees. "Myrtle's bathroom...I-It's there… The acromantulas told us!" He fell to the ground, his arms moving just in time to stop his face from hitting the floor. "The Forest… W-Williams and T-Tracey…"

Albus practically ran to help the boy. "Take a long breath of air and tell me, Longbottom, all you know about the Chamber and the Heir," he said with a soothing voice. Longbottom sat up and did as told under the watchful eyes of the Headmaster.

A few seconds shy from a minute of waiting, the young student finally recomposed himself. "Hagrid. It was him who told us to follow the spiders," Longbottom started. "The night he got arrested, we were there to see it. Harry, Ron, Hermione… we've all been trying to capture the Heir since the first attack took place."

"I already knew about it," Albus hummed in response, encouraging the boy to continue.

"They all got petrified… Everyone but me and Tracey. Tonight, the two of us followed the spiders into the depths of the Forbidden Forest—Daniel Williams, from Slytherin, came with us, but he…" his hesitation raised all the alarms in Albus' mind. It couldn't have happened for a second time; it just couldn't. "The acromantulas told us that the key to the Chamber and the Monster of Slytherin lied in Myrtle's bathroom," Longbottom finished as he raised his eyes to look at Albus. "The place where the girl died fifty years ago, they told us."

His wand danced in his hand as the Great Sorcerer stood up—two regal and pristine phoenixes came from its tip. "Minerva and Severus will be on their way in no time at all," the old man began. "You must tell them everything in great detail. And I mean everything—what happened in the Forest; how are you; where are Davis and Williams… You did something incredibly reckless today, my boy. Yet it also was incredibly brave." Albus turned one last time to look at Longbottom. "You truly are a Gryffindor in heart and soul. Be proud of yourself and the incredible friends you have, for you all saved Hogwarts for a second time."

Albus walked away from the boy the instant he felt the magical aura of Minerva, who was getting closer to them with each second. Finally, he had a clear objective—if the acromantulas were correct, the location of the Chamber or Secrets had just been revealed to him. His body tensed with anticipation as his magic danced around him with contained rage—he could feel how the floor below his feet creviced with each step.

It was time to end all the horrors Salazar Slytherin sworn to inflict upon the muggle-borns many centuries ago.


Gilderoy Lockhart POV

Oh, the many adventures he would tell in his next book—he could almost hear the cheers and cries from the fans!

The Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin, no less! Moreover, he, the great Gilderoy Lockhart, had been Harry Potter's professor for an entire year. All the incredible stories danced in his mind—now, for the cherry on the cake, for the happy ending everyone loved, all Gilderoy needed to do was to wait for the Headmaster to do his thing. Because Albus Dumbledore would stop the Heir, that was a given—it was common sense to never make an enemy of that old man.

And just like always, he would be there to reap the success others obtained. Because, in the end, the one person to always be on the right was the one whose side of the story reached the most people—in that field, Gilderoy knew no rival.

The young man hummed a happy melody as he strolled down the corridors of the seventh floor, very close to the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower. Just in case the Heir of Slytherin decided it was a good night to make an appearance, Gilderoy would be at the safest spot in the entire castle—just in case, of course. Besides, no one would ever try to harm him as long as that old lady of McGonagall was to be around; Merlin knew she could be scary!

"Gilderoy Lockhart and the Chamber of Secrets," the blond man muttered out of a sudden. Nailing the right name for a book was always the hardest and the most important step in the road to success. It needed to be eye-catching, but not too exaggerated; serious, but not too sombre so those mothers of young children would still buy them the book. "Yeah, it is a nice name!"

As he took the next corner to the left, he reached the entrance to the lion's common room. Gilderoy stood still for a second—McGonagall was nowhere to be seen! Wait, has she been patrolling the nearby corridors? I should have seen her… Well, it was time to change locations! If he recalled correctly, that imp of Flitwick possessed the title of Duelling Master. He'd do.

Gilderoy began to descend through the long staircase near the Fat Lady's picture, which led to the sixth floor. However, down there, with her back turned at him, a long and unruled cascade of red hair fell over a tiny figure, dressed with the black colours of the school's regular robes. His heart almost left his body—hell, he was an instant away from stumbling down the stairs!

"Weasley, is that you?" The young Professor asked with a funny voice. That girl had scared him to the death! But he was able to recognise her, just in time to shut down those fears of his. Ginevra Weasley was one of the best students from the last promotion; a cute and intelligent girl who really appreciated his adventures. "You shouldn't be here! Hey, why don't I walk you to your common room? I could even use a bit of my precious time to reassure your mates that everything is going to be okay!" That had been another great idea. He now had a perfect excuse to spend what was left of the night in the safety of the Gryffindor Tower.

Weasley did not turn back.

Gilderoy started to feel uneasy about the girl. He himself knew how much of a fraud he was, but, oh, if there was a trait of his which everyone would kill to have, that was his natural instinct—his instinct to run away from dangerous situations as soon as they stood in front of him. And this current issue was one of these situations to avoid.

"Now that I think about it, I've just remembered I needed to patrol the dungeons," Gilderoy excused himself as he took a few steps back. His eyes didn't leave the girl's back for an instant. "Silly me, don't you think…"

She finally turned around.

A pale and sweaty face stared back at him dead in the eyes, her fringe about to cover hers. In her left hand, she carried a tiny, black notebook with some unintelligible letters that couldn't be read from his spot. "Someone saw me," the girl commented as if there was anyone around.

It was at that moment when Gilderoy decided it was a good time to run for his life. Yet he didn't even make it to the end of the staircase. Something pulled him from his left ankle, a sudden and strong force that raised him several metres in the air with little effort. His wand fell from his fingers, right into the dark void that led to the main floor of the castle.

Ginevra Weasley walked upstairs to meet him; her empty eyes staring right through his soul.

"What a pathetic excuse of a wizard," a voice spat into his ears. Gilderoy quickly turned his head to look around. There wasn't anyone.

"P-Please, I-I'll forget all… all I saw… Please!" He begged with a raspy voice, two rivers of tears pouring out from his eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen! He was smarter than anyone else—smarter than danger itself!

Suddenly, a streak of air collided with his back. Then he realised it wasn't any spell or wind magic. No, he had been thrown backwards by a strange force, and Gilderoy understood it an instant before colliding with the Fat Lady's draw—his body broke through the wooden door with ease. I… I… His brain refused to form any coherent thought; it was too busy worrying about the huge pain in his back and legs.

The sound of footsteps came to life again, but he couldn't discern whether they got closer or further from him. His eyes closed and no one came to finish him. Just in time to hear the many, alarmed voices that came from the Gryffindor Tower, Gilderoy drifted into unconsciousness.


There it was, a bonus POV from Lockhart just because I felt like it. Now that Ron is out of the game, temporaly, I have way more espace to work with those side characters I want to develop in this arc; like I did in this chapter with that weird trio. Honestly, this chapter might be one of my favourites I've written for the story so far.