Hi everyone, so I have to apologize about some formatting issues in the last chapter. On Ao3 part of my authors note was taken out of bold when I imported the chapter from my documents. On FFN all words were cut to regular text, so my notes are not in bold, there are no italics, and there are no cuts to start letters or writing.

I am endeavoring to fix this issue, especially because part of my storytelling relies on such a format. It is difficult to understand the difference between thoughts and regular speech when the only thing they don't have in common is a simple missing quotation mark. ' and " are sometimes not enough to distinguish between the two.

We could always chalk it up to bad writing too. There are plenty of other symbols I can use, but even then, there are only so many. I am a fast reader, and the things I use in my writing help me to understand other books better. I pick up styles and formats from books that I like.

Either way, I am hoping to remedy this issue soon.

So let's continue with the next chapter for now. This time, I hope to do some things with Draco, as well as bring Neville in. The class for this chapter will be History. I will be writing through Merlot's point of view, sort of how I wrote from Ron's in the last installment.

As I said, I am formatting differently. Let me give a heads up as to how this story will go. This chapter and the last chapter take place during the first day. The next two will take place several days later, and be centered around potions and defense against the dark arts. Potions will be between Hufflepuff and Slytherins, while charms will once again be Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. It will be implied that these two chapters will have their events unfolding at around the same time.

From there, I will cycle through the rest of the classes, with some of the more minor plot points in store. There will be developments from both Horcruxes, visions from Draco (As I teased at the end of book 1) and of course, the chamber of secrets will be opened. After a steady stream of class chapters, we will have the Teachers conference and the first quidditch match of the year. I may sneak in a more relevant chapter, which is pure plot. Then, I will cycle back into classes. The second wave of classes may be shorter or just as long as the first one, and after that is done, we will have the second quidditch match.

This cycle will continue for this book until the third quidditch match, which will be cancelled due to the Basilisk attacks. Then, we will reach the end of this book, and be on to number three.

If I run the numbers right… we have about seven or eight class chapters between all of the characters, and then quidditch matches. Given that I could pack two chapters in between each cycle of class chapters (For quidditch and extra plot stuff) that will yield three cycles of ten chapters. From there, we'll have the story's climax, which should actually be one of the longer ones. The fight will most likely take at least two chapters, where as the actual exploration of the chamber of secrets that prefaces that will be one. I would estimate that gathering all of that together, there are roughly thirty four to thirty seven chapters until the end of "Venom."

Now that I have gotten through yet another authors note, let's continue.

—0—

Neville sighed as he brushed a bit of water over the leaves of his latest botany project. The black leaves hungrily drank in the water as the tentacle like roots wriggled from the dirt, waving at him from the fresh earth and letting out happy little squeaks.

"Who's a good little tentacula spore?"

If Professor Sprout knew he had taken some of the seeds from the dangerous plant last year, she would have killed him. It was okay, however. She knew not of his brief invasion of the greenhouses during the night, nor did she know of his borderline illegal experiments in crossbreeding magical species.

Even if they found his projects, he would play it off. He was the nice, innocent, Neville Longbottom. Nervous and afraid. He wouldn't get in trouble for something like this if he simply placed the blame on someone else.

With a loving hum, Neville walked into his trunk, running a finger down each of his projects. The trunk had been a birthday gift from his uncle Alge, who couldn't foot the bill for a very expensive vivarium, and instead settled on a portable walk-in closet. The trunks additional shelving and minor expansion charms were enough for a few plants, and of course, his uncle had added a sunlight charm in the inner linings of the compartment.

It was probably the lightest thing that Neville owned. A work of simple enchantments that could still puzzle a master craftsman. He had to be careful with his room of light, and he was. He didn't want any of his children to burn.

Stopping at the end of his trunk, Neville reached up at his oldest plant. One he had nurtured since he had dug it up from the corner of the potions basement of Longbottom manor. He was proud with how it grew, twisting upwards, its vines gaining bark and blooming with opalescent flowers, each smelling of the sweetest confections that one could imagine.

Of course, Neville knew better than to get close enough to smell the flowers. With a sigh, he reached into his robes and pulled out a bundle of petrified garden gnomes. Their knobbly skin flaked in the bright light of the trunk, and though they were all frozen with magic, he knew from experience that if he undid the spell, they would remain petrified by nothing but their own fear.

"Wengardium leviosa."

The first gnome floated upwards, pulled by invisible strings that emanated from the tip of Neville's wand. With a twitch, the first gnome drafted towards the first open flower, which leaped out and consumed it in one bite, it's petals turning razor sharp and cutting into the flesh of the tiny creature as it screamed.

Oh how he longed to hear those screams again.

Neville smirked as he tossed another gnome to the plant, and then another. His smirk became a grin as his child devoured each and every one of the pests he had captured, each flower closing as they ate their fill, until they were all closed, and not a single gnome remained.

Neville walked up slowly to his darling plant. His own discovery. His own creation. Gently running a rough hand over the barky vines, he felt it shudder at his touch.

"That's right… soon. Soon you will have the flesh of Lestrange. Soon…"

—0—

"Now, I know that a lot of students find my classes boring. Believe me, I think I might have fallen asleep through a lecture or two myself."

A ripple of laughter spread through the classroom as the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students settled into their seats. The ghostly professor drifted around the room, addressing them with his opening speech.

"Of course, it was made quite apparent that my lessons were due to change. The deputy headmistress met with many of the professors before the start of the term and began making changes specifically due to the voracious appetite for magic and learning all of you seem to have. Yes, it is because of you, the second years, that we are here now. So please, do try to stick with me."

The professor drifted down and pointed a ghostly wand at his blackboard, waving it to no avail. With a grumble, he slowly descended further, picking up a piece of chalk to sketch out what looked like a map.

"Today's story starts in a place that was once known as Longstead. A quaint little wizarding village in the west of Britain. Or rather, what would become Britain. You see, at the time, this land was ravaged by invaders. Specifically, the Saxons, who sought to claim the land and its bounties from the current ruler, Arthur Pendragon."

Murmurs spread through the class, causing the ghost to raise his voice so that he could continue to be heard.

"This was a time of unity between magical and non magical. The druids worked in tandem with the king and his court in order to retain balance between both kinds of people. With their combined might, though their armies were lesser than those of the savage Saxons, the kingdom was able to stave off the invasion. But, that isn't as important as the topic right now."

Binns tapped his chalk on the map, where he had drawn a tiny star, representing the village of Longstead.

"You see, in this village was born a boy. His mother was a druid, cast away for a betrayal of her circle. For she had fallen in love with one of the invaders. She wandered west, before settling here to give birth to her son, who will be known by many names, but by her own voice she dubbed him after his fathers messy mane. Lionheart."

The class fell silent as the professor nodded, drifting up the central row of seats.

"The boys mother died giving birth, and passed him on to a witch of little renown. She was known in the village for bringing rain to the crops, and clearing away sickness. The boy was cared for by her tender hand, and he grew."

Merlot jotted everything down as the professor spoke. This Lionheart sounded quite interesting, and she hoped that she would be able to find more information on him.

"He was powerful, even at a young age, with a gift for languages. By the age of six, it is said that he understood the runic alphabet used by the druids, and the alphabet used by the Saxons as well. He was skilled in all forms of magic, though many observed that he had a certain proclivity for dueling. By the age of thirteen, he had grown enough for his guardian to send him out. He began to travel."

Binns drifted back down to his board, marking several more locations.

"He found that he was unwelcome in many villages, specifically because of the way he looked. Though he was young, many could see that he resembled the invaders from those years of the bloody war. Still, he continued onward, helping people where he could, using his magic to give to those with nothing of their own. Gradually, some would warm to him, and he would have a room to stay in, and some food. For the most part, however, he lived as a nomad, until his seventeenth birthday."

Binns shaded in a portion of the map, which looked around where London was in the modern day.

"Though they were pushed back, the Saxons still affected the people. Part of this was thanks to their relentless fighting, while the rest as due to what they brought with them. No, not disease, not famine. Beasts. You see, Germany, which was Saxony beforehand, is the birthplace of the Gryphon. These beasts are smart, fast, strong… deadly."

Binns finished shading in the spot over where London now stood.

"You see, it was the boy's seventeenth birthday when he came across a nation of Goblins, who were doing their best to deal with the problem that the Gryphons posed. You see, even then, Gringotts used dragons to protect their wealth. But one dragon is nothing to a flock of Gryphons, and so, the Goblins found that their kingdom's security was lacking. First came the dragons, then the goblin guards. Then the goblin children. Then came the boy."

Binns set the chalk down and began to wander the room once more, watching with a bit of delight as the students paid rapt attention to his story.

"Thanks to his physiology, and the strength of his magic, the boy, now a young man, singlehandedly drove back the massive swarm of Gryphons that had tormented the goblin nation. He performed the impossible, and in doing so, won the respect of the entire nation."

The class began to chat excitedly again. This lesson was much more exciting than what they had expected. This story sounded important, especially if it made anything to do with goblins sound interesting.

"The goblins, the world's greatest metalworkers, aside from the dwarves of course. Age-old rivalry, you see. Well, by order of the goblin king, they set to work forging the young wizard a weapon. A sword, meant for his exact height and build, made from enchanted metal, so that it could absorb anything it bathed in, to grow stronger. The sword was given to the young man, and his legend began."

Binns erased his map before drifting to his desk and leaning on it. Merlot blinked as she watched the wood turn a bit darker and frost over where his fingertips met its surface.

"He was knighted at the age of twenty-three, a mere six years after his feats for the goblin nation. He served Arthur Pendragon as a member of the Round Table for some years until the king perished, and the mundane world began to turn upon the magical one. When witches and wizards began to be hunted by the church, he rode into villages, saving any he could from those who called them unnatural. He befriended a man from greece. A prophet, who had the gift of serpents, along with two witches who held the virtues of knowledge and loyalty. He became known among the wizarding world as a hero. And his name was changed to match the very beginnings of his story. The final barrier. The gate that kept peace protected. Godric, the Gryphons Door. Or to us now, Godric Gryffindor."

The class applauded, and Binns gave a bow.

"Yes yes, it's all well said and told. But, then comes the part after his legend. What happened to Godric Gryffindor after he founded Hogwarts? What did this wizard, this knight. What did he do after he retreated from the battlefields?"

The class looked at the professor hopefully, just to sweatdrop as he threw his ethereal hands in the air.

"Who knows?"

Merlot sighed as she set her quill down. No more notes it seemed.

"Well, what is known, is that Godrics sword garnered some attention after he faded into the history books. Some say the Goblins wished to take it back, others that the nation sought to protect it from unworthy heirs. Though it has never been seen since Godrics time. It is believed that it is hidden somewhere within the castle, and that only one of Godrics noble heart may find it."

The class stared silently as the ghost turned around. With a slow hand, he began jotting down a few notes on his board.

"Now, we will be spending our next month focusing on the life of Godric Gryffindor. Today was nothing more than a brief synopsis. We will cover some of his better-known accomplishments and some of those lesser known. By the end of the month, I want each of you to use your notes to write a paper, one centimeter lettering at maximum, evenly spaced. We'll say… eighteen inches of parchment minimum?"

The Gryffindors groaned, (Along with a few Hufflepuffs). Merlot simply grinned. A founder's life? That was their assignment?

'This is going to be so much fun!'

"I know it seems like a lot," Binns raised his hands for everyone to quiet down. "But this is Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders! I'm sure that almost every one of you will surpass the minimum when all is said and done, and I for one, cannot wait. So, jot these last things down, then off to your next professors. Don't wish to keep Snape and Sprout waiting now do we? Right. Off you trot!"

The class scribbled out their final notes and began packing, with many talking amongst themselves with fervor.

Merlot smiled as Binns drifted back to his desk. History would definitely be one of her favorite classes this year.

—0—

Minerva sighed as she sat down at the small circular table within the astronomy tower. Her and Sybil had gotten free periods at the same time, which suited her weekly palm readings perfectly. Certainly, Minerva would say what she would about the womans knack for predicting deaths, but it was one of the things that made Sybil… well… Sybil. The woman was a bit batty, sure, but she was always wonderful to be with on one of her good days. And the palm readings between the two were something of a bonding ritual for them.

The door creaked open, and Minerva turned, smiling at the divinations professor as she entered, her smile as twitchy as always, and her eyes seemingly a hundred times bigger thanks to her thick-lensed spectacles.

"Good morning Minerva."

The woman smiled and stood up, offering her friend a seat. "Good Morning to you as well, Sybil. I trust the first day hasn't been too complicated?"

Sybil took the seat with a nod. "I have seen some rough images in the tea leaves, but nothing that shows signs of danger. I hope that your palms show much of the same delight."

Minerva sat down opposite Sybil and offered both of her hands.

"Ah yes… Your hands have changed, as I said they would. They are slowly ebbing towards water, though you still have quite a bit of fire in you!"

Minerva giggled a bit as her friend continued, a mixture of bliss and the feeling of the woman's hands on her palms. It tickled a bit.

"Your age line has gotten longer with your hands dear. Quite good my dear. You are quite healthy. Ah, your marriage line… Nothing new I see?"

"No." Minerva sighed. "I think it will stay like that now…"

"Maybe so, but you never know my dear. Ah, your heart li-"

Sybil dropped like a puppet with cut strings, causing Minerva to jump up in panic. "SYBIL! OH MY- OH MY MAGIC I-"

The prophet sat up, her eyes blank as her mouth hung open, and though it moved not, words were ushered forth in a rattling whisper, one which granted along the back of Minervas spine, forcing a shiver that went from her hips up to her shoulders.

So it begins

The one who is two has found home

Though their mind is still addled by itself

But Dark and Light must remain vigilant

For the one who is two has only begun their journey

And will soon be joined by one marked by the second brother

Beware

The first approaches

Alone in the shadows

He is cast out by the light

The one who is two waits

Their mind at war with itself

As great serpent stalks the old stones

Two fragments shall fight

The first approaches

His blessed tongue

Shall rouse the agents of silk

Those who slumber in beds of bone

Soul faces soul

The one who is two shall mark them with silver

And they shall be crowned

The lord of none

The first approaches

Sing praises of him magic

Sing praises, all

For the lord of none shall take up his blade

As both shadow fragments fall

Sybil's body once again went slack, leaving Minerva to stare at it in a mix of shock and fear. Was that… a prophecy? From the lunatic divinations professor?

"So it seems that-"

"AAAAAHHH!"

The woman snapped back awake, as if nothing had happened, scaring Minerva half to death and causing her to trip over her chair, faceplanting into the table.

"Oh no. What happened? Did I nod off again Minnie?" The woman frowned. "I'm sorry for scaring you if I did… Oh no, your eye seems to be bruising a bit-"

"I'm perfectly okay…" Minerva grumbled, pushing herself upright. "Just a bit of a scare dear. Why don't you go get some rest? I'll go see Poppy about my eye."

"But your palms-"

"My palms can wait dear. You get some rest, okay? You can't expect to accurately read my palms when you keep nodding off."

Sybil sighed, before giving a nod. "I suppose you are right. And it has been some time since I did some dream gazing. Very well, I shall see you tomorrow Minnie."

"I will see you tomorrow Sybil." Minerva nodded, watching as her friend exited the room. As the door clicked shut, she collapsed into her chair.

"I will never laugh at that woman again, so long as I live!"

—0—

So that's the end of this chapter. I can't remember if I wrote about Minerva being in prophecy denial.

Eh, oh well. If I did, someone would tell me, and I could fix it.

As always, leave a review, and until next time

Adios.