A/N: Chapter revised as of November 4, 2024.

The next few days passed in a blur for Harry. What should have been a fun, celebratory week after his big Quidditch win was instead one filled with panic, fear, crying students, and furious parents arriving at the front gates to yell at Dumbledore. There was no sweeping this incident under the rug, as with Calvin on Halloween: everyone had seen Luna in the Entrance Hall, and as the daughter of a prominent journalist, it didn't take long until the entire wizarding world became aware of the incident (and the Heir of Slytherin situation at large).

The students were sent to their common rooms while the school was searched – Harry watched with interest on the Marauder's Map as every staff member searched every nook and cranny of the castle. He also watched with a pang of sadness as Luna Lovegood's dot was moved from the Entrance Hall to the Hospital Wing, where it would presumably remain until the end of term.

On Monday morning, Dumbledore summoned everyone back to the Great Hall to announce that the school would remain operational with a few procedural changes. A strict curfew of 7 PM was implemented, and all students were to travel the halls in pairs wherever they went. Students were expected to remain in common areas like the Great Hall and the library while not in class, and teachers and prefects were on constant patrol through the castle, searching for any wrongdoing.

This did little to reassure the students, as no progress had been made towards stopping the threat and the Heir of Slytherin remained at large. Fortunately, Harry's name had been removed from the list of suspects. He had a rock-solid alibi at the Quidditch match during the attack, and no one in their right mind would believe that he'd attack his only real friend in the castle.

The downside to this was the outpouring of positive attention Harry now received from his classmates. Fellow Ravenclaws came up regularly and told him how sorry they were for his 'loss', which only made Harry feel more numb and detached from it all. This was like Hermione being Petrified all over again – only this time, he had no Ron to fall back on for emotional support.

Although, in a literal sense, this wasn't true. Harry decided this was a prime opportunity to get closer to the trio of Ron, Neville and Hermione, and he sought them out the following weekend, as students flocked to the Great Hall for camaraderie (and the unspoken safety in numbers). Harry spied Ron and Neville across the Hall, playing wizard's chess at the Hufflepuff table, and made his way over to them.

"No Hermione today?" Harry asked conversationally as he took the seat beside Ron and surveyed the board; he appeared to be winning handily.

"She's probably in the library," Neville muttered, his face scrunched up in concentration as he plotted his next move. "Beats me why she insists on studying so much when there's a deadly monster on the loose."

"She's not by herself, is she?" Harry wondered, suddenly remembering her fate in his previous second year. "She's Muggle-born...maybe she ought to stick to groups—"

"We told her the same thing, but she didn't listen," said Ron. He directed one of his bishops into the heart of Neville's defenses in a flashy sacrifice. "This is checkmate in four, by the way, but we can play it out if you like."

"I'll take your word for it," Neville sighed, flicking over his king in resignation. He turned his attention toward Harry. "Your friend Luna isn't Muggle-born, is she?"

"No," Harry muttered. "Her father's a wizard, and her mother...well, I'm not sure about her mother."

"Kinda strange that she was targeted, I would think," Neville frowned. "Isn't the Heir of Slytherin supposed to target Muggle-borns only?"

"A lot of Slytherins have been wondering the same," said Daphne Greengrass, suddenly swooping in to sit beside Neville. "Some of them are worried that it means the pure-bloods aren't safe from the monster like they thought, but most assume she's a half-blood since Lovegood isn't one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"I really don't think the monster discriminates by blood," Harry sighed, recalling that Ginny Weasley was meant to be the Heir's final victim in his last timeline. "It's more likely that Luna was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Well, the good news is, neither of you two are the prime suspects for the Heir of Slytherin anymore," Daphne continued, looking from Harry to Neville. There's a rumor that Marcus Flint is behind it as revenge for your duel, Potter, but we're pretty sure the rumor was started by Flint himself."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered. "I'm sure Flint and Malfoy would love to have everyone believe they were the Heir."

"You still think this Tom Riddle bloke is the Heir?" asked Ron.

"I do," Harry nodded. "The only question is which student he's possessing to do his bidding for him."

"Bloody hell, now students are being possessed in addition to being Petrified?!" Daphne groaned. "What kind of school is Dumbledore running here?"

"Keep your eyes open for a diary with a brown leather cover," Harry said warningly. "Don't tell too many people, though – it's a dangerous artifact that could be disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands."

"Stealing more girls' diaries, Potter?" quipped Fred Weasley, as he and George unexpectedly joined the group. "Careful, or one might get the wrong idea."

"No, I wasn't—" Harry said quickly.

"Only teasing," said Fred with a wink. "Ronniekins explained everything to us. And for the record, we went through our sister's belongings over Christmas and didn't find any such diary."

"Only a notebook with Neville's name written in the margins with little hearts around it," said George, nudging Neville playfully and causing the boy to redden slightly. "Turns out Potter here isn't the only womanizer we have to worry about."

"Listen, I'm sorry about everything from earlier this year," Harry said. "I should have just explained—"

"We're good, Potter," said Fred, clapping him on the shoulder. "We know now that you were looking out for Ginny the same way we would have."

"Don't think we're gonna go easy on you in the Quidditch final, though," George grinned. "We'll forget we said any of this and try to beat the mickey out of you with our bats."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Harry laughed. "You lot have a strong team. I look forward to the challenge."

"Yours as well," Fred acknowledged. "Davies is good, even though he's a prat, and everyone thinks he's a fool for benching you so long after your last game."

Harry felt a surge of pride at this comment. It felt good to know that the other teams had taken notice of his skill as a player – even if it meant they would be strategizing against him specifically in the future.

"Alright, enough kissing up to each other," Ron huffed impatiently. "Another game, Neville?"

"Nah; I've done enough losing for one day," Neville muttered.

"I'll play you, Weasley," said Daphne, sliding over to take Neville's place in front of the board. "White or black?"

"Black," Ron said confidently. "Gotta give you a chance somehow, Greengrass."

"That so?" Daphne said, arching an eyebrow as she pushed a pawn forward. "What's your opening of choice? The Sicilian, the Caro-Kann, or the Scandinavian?"

This remark caused Ron's grin to fade as he considered each of the three options she'd mentioned. Fred and George shared incredulous looks and settled in to watch their brother hopefully get decimated. Harry politely excused himself and headed to the library to work on some homework.

As Ron and Neville predicted, Hermione was there at a table by herself, books and papers spread out all around her, scribbling furiously in a notebook. Harry decided now was as good a time as any to approach her, as they still hadn't spoken since term resumed the month before. "Erm, Hermione?" he said tentatively. "Got a minute?"

Hermione glanced up at him, a look of annoyance crossing her face at his appearance. "As long as it is only a minute," she sighed, looking up expectantly at him.

"Look, did I do something to upset you?" Harry asked carefully. "If I did, I'm terribly sorry, and it was probably accidental—"

"You haven't done anything wrong, Harry," said Hermione. "I've just decided to take my studies more seriously."

"This isn't because I got higher grades last term, is it?" asked Harry.

"Did you?" Hermione hummed, feigning ignorance that fooled nobody. "I hadn't noticed."

"C'mon, don't be like that," Harry groaned. "Everyone knows you're a brilliant witch, Hermione. You can't compare yourself to other people all the time—"

"Not everything is about you, you know," Hermione said coldly. "It's great that some people excel at magic and Quidditch without really trying, but the rest of us have to put in actual effort to succeed."

Harry felt a twinge of irritation at her tone. "Yeah, my life's been real easy around here," he said sarcastically. "Getting the cold shoulder from my entire House, hated by my own sister, and losing my best friend to an ancient monster...I'm just spoiled rotten, aren't I?"

Hermione's icy facade faded for a moment as she considered his words. "I'd forgotten you were close with Luna," she muttered, looking embarrassed. "Harry, I'm sorry—"

"Don't be," Harry said with a false smile. "I'd hate to keep you from your studies. Wouldn't want to see you to drop below 100% in Flitwick's class on my account." And he stalked away to the opposite end of the library. He felt a bit bad for rubbing it in her face like that – immaturity was not the best solution to itself.

Harry settled into his own table to lose himself in some classwork and take his mind off of everyone going on around him. He was roughly half an hour into writing an Astronomy essay when he felt a finger prodding his shoulder.

"Harry?" a tentative voice said. "Can we talk?"

Harry turned, expecting to see Hermione come to apologize, but instead came face to face with his younger sister. "Hey, Dahlia," Harry sighed. "I'm not really in the mood to be made fun of right now, so if you don't mind—"

But Dahlia surprised him by wrapping her arms around Harry in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry about your friend Luna," she muttered into her brother's shoulder. "You two seemed close."

"Oh...thanks," Harry said, returning the hug. "Madam Pomfrey said she'll be alright, as soon as the mandrakes finish maturing."

"Yeah, she told me the same thing about Calvin," said Dahlia, pulling away and wiping away a tear. "But it doesn't really make it feel any better, does it?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry shrugged. "Thanks."

"Sorry for being such a bad sister," said Dahlia with a slight grimace. "I let people think you were the one doing all of this, even though I knew you never would. I've told everyone I know that you're innocent in the last few days."

"Appreciate it," Harry grinned. "Sorry for acting like a weirdo earlier in the year."

Dahlia laughed and rolled her eyes. "Can you help me with my Defense homework?" she asked tentatively. "Lupin's assigned us a bunch of catch-up work to cover all the material Lockhart skipped over."

"Sure," Harry beamed, delighted at the chance to spend time with his sister again. He'd missed that simple familial connection, that relationship that went beyond mere friendship to something more eternal and indestructible. Despite knowing Dahlia for only a year and a half in this timeline, he felt an intense protective instinct over her and hated the thought that she was so close to the diary without his ability to intervene.

He and Dahlia spent the majority of their day sitting at that table, working through homework together. Harry helped her through Lupin's assignments, then tried to do the same with Snape's Potions homework, but quickly realized that she had a far better grasp on the subject than he did. "Mum would disown you if she heard you right now," Dahlia said teasingly. "I mean, really, adding toad spawn to a Healing Draught? Are you trying to kill someone?"

The study session quickly devolved into light teasing about other subjects, as the two siblings caught up on lost time after months of avoiding one another. Dahlia pestered Harry about his love life, demanding to know if he and Luna were dating, while Harry fought back by asking the same about her and Colin Creevey, as the boy was apparently smitten with Dahlia and asked to take her picture constantly. Soon they were trading barbs and laughing raucously like old times, to the point that Madam Pince had to march over and tell them to quiet down.

Eventually the Potter siblings packed up their things to leave the library, and Harry walked Dahlia up to Gryffindor Tower. "Same time next week?" he asked, hoping this would become a regular occurrence.

"If we must," Dahlia grinned. Then abruptly, her grin faded, and a worried look crossed her face. "It's all gonna be okay now, right?" she asked tentatively. "All this 'Heir of Slytherin' business?"

"I'm sure we have nothing to worry about," Harry reassured her, pulling his sister in for a tight hug. "Dumbledore's doing everything he can to put a stop to it."

"And Uncle Remus?" Dahlia asked hopefully.

"Yes," said Harry. "And Flitwick, and McGonagall, and even Dad and everyone at the Ministry. They'll keep us safe."

Dahlia nodded and gently pulled away from her brother. Harry watched her climb through the portrait hole, feeling oddly powerless at how vulnerable and frightened she looked. How could he promise to protect her if he couldn't even protect his closest friend from the basilisk? What kind of protector was he if all his advanced knowledge of events was completely useless?

Rather than returning to his own common room, Harry headed instead for Lupin's classroom. He could choose to wallow in isolation, or he could be more proactive and work towards his goal of neutralizing the basilisk. Besides, Lupin had proven to be a calming force amidst all the pressures Harry felt upon him...his calm energy and pragmatic personality always helped center Harry and bring his emotions back to equilibrium.

Harry strode across the DADA classroom to the ajar office door, knocking briefly before entering. To his surprise, Lupin was not alone; Professor Flitwick was sitting beside him, or more accurately, standing atop a step-stool and looking over his shoulder at an assortment of papers on the desk.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" Harry asked.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter, come in!" Flitwick beamed, beckoning him in.

"Professor Flitwick here was just helping me with lesson planning for the upper years," said Lupin.

"Yes, sadly, I have ample experience filling in for prior Defense professors who didn't last the full year," said Flitwick. "But I'm thrilled to know that I finally have a more than competent replacement."

"You're too kind, Filius," Lupin chuckled. "What can I help you with, Harry?"

"Erm...nothing in particular, I guess," Harry shrugged. "It can wait if you're busy—"

"Is this about your friend Luna?" said Lupin, giving Harry his full attention at once. "No, of course it can't wait, Harry. We can talk as long as you need to."

"I was just telling Remus about your bond with Miss Lovegood," said Flitwick, looking sadly at Harry. "You were so kind to her when no one else was. I'm terribly sorry about what happened."

Harry suddenly felt that he didn't actually want to talk about Luna at all. "Thanks, Professor," he said quickly. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about…"

Lupin must have picked up on Harry's discomfort, because he stood up from his desk and strode towards the door. "Come on, Harry," he said, beckoning him out of the office. "There's something I need to see for myself."

Confused, Harry followed Lupin back into the main classroom, where the man was waving his wand to push the desks and chairs up against the wall. "See what, Uncle Remus?" he asked.

"Filius tells me you're a gifted duelist," said Lupin, tracing the outline of a dueling stage on the bare floor. "I saw what you did against Mr. Flint at the last club meeting, and I want to see what you're made of."

"Oh...okay," Harry shrugged; he wouldn't mind burning off some excess energy. He took his spot at one end of the stage as Lupin stood at the other. Flitwick excitedly took a seat near the center of the stage, eagerly watching the two square off.

"First, we bow," said Lupin, lowering his head. Harry did the same, but instinctively threw up a Shield Charm as Lupin fired a nonverbal Stunner his direction. "Good reflexes," Lupin appraised him. "Never take your eyes off your opponent, Harry, even in a practice duel."

"Right," Harry huffed. It had been a bit of a low blow, but clearly Lupin wanted to test his mettle, and he wouldn't let the man get under his skin just yet. He retaliated with a volley of minor jinxes in quick succession, which Lupin lazily batted aside in a single swipe.

"Come now, you think such elementary spells can take me down?" Lupin taunted with a grin. "Show me what you've got, Potter!"

Harry sighed. With a flick of his wand, he sent one of the desks behind Lupin sailing through the air towards his head; Lupin ducked to avoid the projectile, and just managed to raise a Shield Charm of his own to block Harry's Banishing Charm from the front.

"Good thinking," said Lupin, resetting to a defensive stance. "Distract the opponent from multiple angles. That might work against other students who aren't ready for it, but you have to keep thinking outside the box."

"Show him the thunderstorm, Harry!" Flitwick squeaked with excitement. Lupin arched an eyebrow of curiosity at this.

Harry shrugged and brandished his wand. "Tempesta electra!" A dark cloud formed above Lupin, and it began to rain heavily while crackling ominously all around him. Unlike Fred, who had cowered beneath the enchantment during their duel, Lupin just stood staring up at the cloud in amazement.

"This is extremely advanced Charms work for someone your age, Harry," he grinned. "I can see how this would be effective against someone unprepared." And with a simple twirl of his wand, Lupin summoned a gust of wind that catapulted the 'storm' towards Harry's side of the stage, forcing Harry to cancel the spell.

"Do you know, Harry, that I've had N.E.W.T. level students coming up to me after class, asking how you did that spell?" Flitwick said, his face aglow with excitement. "It's a combination of illusory and elemental magic, is it not?"

"Yes," Harry confessed. He'd stumbled upon the spell while reading about illusory magic, which Kneazle wand cores were supposedly quite adept at casting. "It's not particularly powerful, though. It's mostly for show, and lots of simple charms can render it ineffective."

"Ah, but power takes many different forms in a duel," Flitwick said with a sage grin. "There is immeasurable power in striking fear in the hearts of your opponents. The psychological impact of a spell is often equally as important as its physical effects."

"Quite right," Lupin agreed. "For example: Brackium confractus!"

Harry's eyes went wide as the Bone-Breaking Curse was sent careening towards him. He hastily erected a shield to block it, but the sickly yellow spell broke through the flimsy protection and grazed his leg. Harry felt his ankle buckle from the partial impact and he stumbled to the ground, wincing in pain.

"Sorry about that, Harry," said Lupin, rushing over to the boy. He knelt beside the boy's injured leg and hovered his wand over it. "Brackium immendo."

Harry briefly had a flare of panic at the spell, which Lockhart had once used in a failed attempt to repair his broken arm. But Lupin's spell worked perfectly, sending a hot sensation down his leg as he felt the bones snap back into place and heal instantly. Lupin helped Harry back to his feet, and Harry found that he was able to put full weight on his leg and feel no pain.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"Perhaps that was a bit over-zealous of me," Lupin said sheepishly. "But do you know why your Shield Charm failed to block the spell?"

"Because I was sloppy in casting it," Harry grimaced.

"The Bone-Breaker Curse is no more difficult to block than any minor hex," Flitwick added, though he gave Lupin a wary look for his rather perilous teaching methods. "But do you see how you were affected by fear of the spell coming at you, which weakened your defenses?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. He hadn't expected his professor (and close friend) to cast such a dangerous curse against him, and it had affected his reflexes.

"Luckily you won't have that problem in a sanctioned duel," said Lupin. "But your father has seen many a fellow Auror go down in battle due to foolish mistakes. It's one thing to be trained how to avoid a Killing Curse, for example, and yet another to actually do it when that rush of green light is coming directly at you."

"How would you avoid a Killing Curse in battle?" Harry wondered aloud, genuinely curious.

"I daresay you'll never have to worry about that," Flitwick said with a nervous chuckle. "Not while at Hogwarts, at any rate."

"The boy did witness it being cast on school grounds, Filius," Lupin said gently. "Your first priority should always be to physically dodge the spell and get far away from the caster, because you probably don't want to be anywhere near that person anyway."

"And if dodging it isn't an option?" Harry asked expectantly.

"Conjuring a physical object can deflect it," Lupin explained. "But it has to be a sturdy material, like metal or stone. Transfiguring or conjuring an animal to take the spell for you is also possible – I've seen your mother do some very clever things with a simple Avis charm on the battlefield."

"Oh, Miss Evans always had a knack for using simple charms in creative ways!" Flitwick said with delight at the reminder. "I'll never forget when she figured out how to maintain a Silencing Field around an individual indefinitely. Poor Sirius Black couldn't understand why nobody was responding to him all day!" All three laughed at this recollection.

"Will you be coming to future Dueling Club meetings, Harry?" asked Lupin pointedly.

"I dunno," Harry said reluctantly. "I don't want to draw any more attention to myself, and I don't feel like I'm learning fast enough in that environment."

"Fair enough," Lupin nodded. "But I'd like to work with you one on one to hone your dueling skills, maybe once a week if you're amenable. I'm sure Professor Flitwick would also be keen to share some pointers of his own."

"Absolutely!" Flitwick agreed. "You're one of the most gifted students I've taught in many years, Mr. Potter, and I'd be delighted to train you."

Once again, Harry felt a surge of pride at their kind words. Although he was far ahead of his grade level and could potentially take on any other student at the school, he still had a lot to learn, and Lupin and Flitwick were the ideal tutors. He left the classroom that evening feeling like he finally had something productive to put his energy towards.

It was far better than the feeling of uselessness that had persisted for the past week since Luna's accident….

Once the initial shock of Luna's accident had worn off, a sense of normalcy gradually returned to Hogwarts in the coming weeks. Harry wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this – on one hand it was nice to put his head down and continue on like nothing was wrong, but on the other, it was frustrating to see how quickly his peers forgot about Luna. She was an afterthought, not 'important' enough to be mourned. Even the Daily Prophet stopped talking about the controversy after a while, though the Quibbler kept up its daily crusade demanding answers from Dumbledore and the school.

Though Harry missed spending time with Luna, he did have a full social slate at the moment. He was back on good terms with Dahlia, helping her with homework and generally spending quality time with her during off hours. He was joining Lupin and Flitwick for private dueling lessons every Wednesday after the regular Dueling Club meeting ended, learning useful new tricks about combat that he couldn't learn from a book. That wasn't to mention his other casual relationships, like killing time with his dorm mates after curfew in the common room, or joining Ron for the occasional chess match (although Daphne Greengrass had largely replaced him in this role as of late).

Then of course there was Quidditch practice, which was finally beginning to bear fruit for Harry after months of being ignored. Roger Davies was treating him as a regular member of the team now, pushing him harder in drills and involving him in group activities. Cho had doubled her efforts as well, treating Roger extra nice and giving her all in every practice session.

"I haven't decided who we'll start in the next match yet," Roger finally admitted after a particularly grueling session. "Most likely we'll have you two alternate on Snitches – Potter will start for the first one, then we'll rotate in Chang, then I'll decide who to put out there for the third. Sound fair?"

"It does to me," Cho readily agreed. Harry privately didn't think so – he felt like he'd earned his spot handily during the Slytherin match, and he'd never been granted such leniency when he was the backup. But he held his tongue and agreed as well, not wanting to be seen as a poor sport when impressions mattered more than ever before.

He took out his frustrations on Lupin instead during their next private meeting, pelting him with every spell he could think of. Though he'd managed to best his professor once or twice at the start of their tutoring, Lupin had long since learned Harry's fighting style and managed to defend himself flawlessly ever since. Harry was growing annoyed by the ease with which Lupin batted aside and Shielded against his spells; he even started mixing in more dangerous curses like the Bone-Breaker out of desperation, but Lupin didn't even bat an eye.

"Stop!" Flitwick shouted after yet another failed volley from Harry. "Mr. Potter, why did you choose that particular sequence of spells?"

"Erm...I dunno," Harry admitted. He'd just been throwing anything that came to mind at Lupin, without much thought as to the order or synergy between them.

"You're wasting energy with your wand movements," Flitwick pointed out. "You cast a Banishing Charm and a Cutting Curse back to back, but both require a downward slash. You should think about varying your spell chains by minimizing these movements."

"Perhaps you should include a third spell in between those two," Lupin suggested. "Something with an upward wand movement, so you are immediately ready for that downward slash after."

Harry had never considered this before. He often wondered why he struggled to cast as many spells per second as some of the more skilled duelists he'd seen, and that made perfect sense as to why. Every split second mattered when it came to waving his wand.

When they reset, Harry waited for his opening, Shielding against the occasional hex while firing minor curses in return to keep Lupin honest. When he saw his opening, he again went for the Banishing Charm and Cutting Curse combo, but this time adding a Levicorpus in the middle, requiring only a single upward flick. Lupin was caught off-guard by the triple spells in quick succession, and soon found himself levitating upside-down by the ankle with a small gash in his shoulder.

"Sorry, Professor!" Harry muttered as he canceled the spell and rushed forward to assess the damage.

"Not at all, Harry!" Lupin laughed; despite the blood pouring profusely from his arm, he looked giddy with excitement. "That was an impressive combination. It was much faster than I was prepared to handle." And before Harry could remark on Lupin's shoulder, the man waved his wand lazily over it, and the wound began to stitch itself together, the blood congealing on the surface.

"You'll have to teach me that one," Harry breathed, impressed.

"Years of werewolf-related injuries will teach you some tricks," Lupin grinned wryly. "Not that you'll have to worry about healing spells in a dueling arena."

"But what if I get in a fight outside a sanctioned match?" Harry asked. "Knowing how to heal a cut or mend a broken bone will probably come in handy."

Lupin's expression darkened at this, and he glanced worriedly at Professor Flitwick. "You aren't planning to pick any fights outside the classroom, are you, Harry?" he asked.

"No," Harry said quickly. "But, you know...there is a deadly monster on the loose...and it's better to be safe than sorry…"

"Healing magic is incredibly difficult to learn and potentially dangerous if you are not careful," Flitwick added. "I myself would not even attempt some of the remedies Professor Lupin has demonstrated without Madam Pomfrey's supervision."

"I picked it up during the war, out of necessity," Lupin admitted. "I can teach you some things here and there, but I don't think a twelve year old boy needs to know how to patch wounds in the field."

Harry suddenly wished that someone had bothered to teach him such magic in his last timeline. All the times he or his friends had been hampered by injuries during excursions: Ron's broken leg from the Whomping Willow third year; the burns he'd received from the Hungarian Horntail during the Triwizard Tournament; Ginny's broken ankle in the Department of Mysteries….

But he wouldn't press the issue just yet. No one else suspected that a war was just around the corner, and if Harry had anything to say about it, it wouldn't come for some time yet.

"How is the search for the Chamber going?" Harry asked Lupin once the session ended and Flitwick took his leave.

"We are making progress," Lupin said evasively. "We've eliminated many possibilities for locations as non-viable."

"Have you tried searching bathrooms lately?" Harry asked. "Could the basilisk be using the plumbing to get around?"

Lupin chuckled at this, as though Harry had made a childish joke. "I appreciate your suggestions, Harry," he said patronizingly, "but the adults are handling this. You heard Professor Dumbledore – he doesn't want you getting involved in all this."

"Well, that was before I lost one of my closest friends to the monster," Harry said hotly. "Maybe I've half a mind to go poking around the castle myself."

Lupin's demeanor shifted at once to something rather frightening, as he grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him close. "You will do no such thing," he said harshly. "Your mother and father would never forgive me if something happened to you or Dahlia. I sympathize with your loss, but this is not your problem."

"You wouldn't even know about the problem without my visions," Harry countered. "You and Dumbledore have discovered nothing on your own, have you?"

"If you have new information to share, you're welcome to divulge it," Lupin said. "But I have a job to do here, and my instructions are clear: do not jeopardize the lives of any students."

"I'm disappointed, Uncle Remus," Harry scoffed. "I never took you for a stickler for the rules." And he stalked out of the room, suddenly in quite the sour mood. He was growing tired of the adults treating him like fragile goods, when he could contribute to the cause if they just listened to him.

But what could he contribute to the cause? He hadn't the faintest idea where to begin looking that he hadn't explored already. He'd already scoured Myrtle's bathroom from floor to ceiling, and even asked her pointed questions about her death to ensure he wasn't missing anything. He made a point of checking every boy's bathroom for snake engravings, and even poked his head into a few girls' bathrooms after ensuring they were empty with the Marauder's Map.

The only other avenue he could take was locating the diary, but he had even fewer ideas for accomplishing this. He still suspected Ginny had it, but had no way to confirm this. He was finally on good terms with the Weasley brothers again, but Ginny herself was still skittish around him, avoiding his presence any chance she got. Harry tried gently probing Dahlia for information during study sessions, but any time Dahlia sensed the conversation straying towards the Chamber of Secrets, she shut down and became despondent – the last thing he wanted to do to his own sister.

Spring Break came before Harry knew it, and with it came a brief respite from the castle to relax at Godric's Hollow. James was in surprisingly high spirits, having just secured a pay raise at the Auror Department, while Lily was delighted at the prospect of her two children being on speaking terms again. "It's so much better to see you two getting along!" she smiled during dinner one night. "I'm glad you two managed to put aside whatever was getting between you all this time."

That remains to be seen, Harry thought. If the Chamber situation worsened any further, he would have to take more drastic actions to track down the diary, and that would probably fracture his relationship with Dahlia even further. Harry was enjoying the tenuous peace that had settled between them, but he had a feeling that it would not last.

Harry made a point of visiting the Muggle library in Godric's Hollow during his break, using the excuse that he wanted to enhance his knowledge of non-magical animal life in the Hogwarts region. It took him a while to learn how to navigate the database system – the last time he'd used a computer was at the Dursley's in his previous timeline, sneaking onto Dudley's desktop whenever the family was out of town. Harry located the news records system and typed 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE' into the search bar.

To his disappointment, there were no direct results – clearly Voldemort hadn't made a habit of making the Muggle news with his birth name prior to his rise to power. However, a number of articles about a different Tom Riddle did pop up: small community blurbs about a wealthy benefactor in a town called Little Hangleton. Harry had no way to know if this was Voldemort's father, but the timeline seemed to line up with the dates he was seeing on small fluff articles about the man's good deeds in the community.

An obituary popped up, stating that Tom Riddle was murdered at the age of 38 on August 13, 1943, alongside his parents. Curiously, it did not list any surviving children or spouses, but the photo attached to the article left no doubt: the man was tall, handsome, and the spitting image of the Tom Riddle that Harry saw in the diary in his original second year. Harry knew that any insights into Voldemort's past would have to begin in Little Hangleton...now he would have to find an excuse to go there without tipping off any adults as to his whereabouts.

It was back to Hogwarts soon after for Harry and Dahlia, and things soon settled back into a routine once again. Homework, dueling lessons, studying with Dahlia, Quidditch practice, free time with friends, rinse and repeat. With end-of-year exams on the horizon, there was time for little else. Even Harry found the specter of the Chamber of Secrets fading in his mind as everything else competed for his attention. He would just have to trust that Lupin and Dumbledore had things under control for the time being.

Harry attended the penultimate Quidditch match of the season, Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin, and for the first time in his life he was rooting for the green and silver. Ravenclaw needed Hufflepuff to lose the match so that they still had a chance at winning the Cup, slim as their chances were. It took every fiber of Harry's being not to boo as Draco Malfoy preened for the crowd, or to cheer on the more stoic Cedric Diggory, who looked nervous by the prospect of clinching Hufflepuff's first Cup victory in many, many years.

Slytherin's Chasers were clearly the more experienced and skilled squad, and they threatened to blow the match wide open from the start. They took an early 50-10 lead, but Cedric brought Hufflepuff back with the first Snitch catch. Draco caught the second after a fluke gust of wind carried the golden ball directly up his sleeve, but the Hufflepuffs had begun to claw back with goals of their own, so they trailed only by 30 heading into the third and final Snitch.

Harry's heart was in his throat as he watched the two Seekers dance around each other, each knowing the importance of this next catch. Draco spotted the Snitch first, flattening himself into a dive as Cedric raced after him. At first it appeared that Cedric would be able to muscle his way past Draco and keep him away from the Snitch. But then Slytherin's Beaters swooped in with two key Bludger strikes that forward Cedric to pull up, and Draco snatched the third Snitch to clinch the victory by 80 points.

There's a chance, Harry thought to himself that night, doing the math in his head. If Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor, they would be tied with both Slytherin and Hufflepuff for the lead, and the tiebreaker would come down to total points scored. They would have to put on a serious rout of Gryffindor, which was no easy task, but Harry was elated that he would at least get the opportunity to win it for his team.

Unfortunately, Roger Davies seemed to be getting cold feet at the last moment. He was much harsher on Harry than usual in practice the following week, criticizing every small mistake and perceived flaw. "Your catch time is much lower than both Malfoy's and Diggory's this season," he said after timing Harry on a few Snitch catches. "Why aren't you getting there sooner?"

"I'm still faster than Johnson's times," Harry pointed out. "Besides, it's not just about raw speed, it's about flexibility and evasiveness. The Weasley twins will prevent me from taking the fastest possible line anyway."

"Chang's splits are still faster," Roger muttered stubbornly. "Those fractions of a second could mean all the difference in a close chase."

He's making the same mistake as last time, Harry thought, dismayed. Cho's broom was faster, and Roger was conflating that with talent – even though game conditions were far, far different in a live match. Raw speed rarely made the difference: there were so many obstacles a Seeker had to overcome before even getting within an arm's length of the Snitch, it was a pointless metric to follow.

The silver lining was that Roger seemed genuinely concerned about team performance, and wasn't swayed by Cho's obvious attempts to flirt with him. He was just as hard on her during practice, and she seemed to make many more obvious mistakes that drew his ire. Harry may not be the perfect Seeker, but he knew better than to drift into the path of an oncoming Quaffle pass during a developing play, which Cho had done twice now in the span of a month.

Little was helping to soothe Harry's nerves as the match approached, and Roger seemed no closer to naming his starting Seeker. His parents and Sirius sent encouraging letters urging him on and promising to attend the match no matter what happened. James even hinted that a Firebolt might be on the table for Harry's thirteenth birthday if he managed to win the Quidditch Cup for Ravenclaw. As if the stakes weren't already high enough, Harry groaned internally.

Roger waited until the last possible moment to make his decision. He pushed both Harry and Cho hard during the final week of practice leading up to the match, setting up a four-on-four scrimmage to pit the two of them head to head. It was a close-fought battle, but Harry managed to secure all three Snitches in the scrimmage, with the last coming via a daring barrel-roll maneuver to snatch it out from under Cho's nose.

Even after that, Roger seemed conflicted in the locker room. Finally he announced, "We'll go with Potter to start the match. Chang, be ready to go after the first or second Snitch – if things aren't working out, we may need you to come in for Potter."

"I'll be ready," Cho said confidently. Harry felt a pang of annoyance at this, but it also lit a fire under him – he would be damned if he let Angelina catch a single Snitch while his job as Seeker was on the line.

Either way, he had the starting job! He excitedly told his dorm mates that evening and sent off letters to his family sharing the good news. For once, things were looking up in his life. He was on good terms with everyone at the school, he was excelling in every subject, and he was finally being recognized for his talent on the Quidditch pitch...nothing could possibly dampen his excitement now!

Harry woke early on the day of the match feeling fresh and ready to take on the world. He ate a hearty breakfast, accepting the well-wishes of his House mates before heading down to the stadium. His family greeted him outside the locker room – even Dahlia, who was representing the red and gold, but nonetheless wished her brother good luck. Time to give them a good show, Harry thought excitedly as he changed with the team and waited eagerly for the match to begin.

"Right; here's the situation," said Roger Davies, pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard, clearly as nervous as the rest of them. "We're currently trailing Hufflepuff by one hundred and forty points. If we beat Gryffindor by that much, we can win the Cup. That means we need at least two of the Snitches, if not all three. Potter, you sure you can handle Johnson?"

"Yes," Harry nodded confidently. He'd spent many years training and playing alongside Angelina Johnson, and knew she was a strong, physical flyer. But he also knew she was nowhere near as effective without a Quaffle in her hands, and she was playing a position that was unnatural to her. He'd have to be careful not to let her out-muscle him, but if it came down to a straight race for the Snitch, he was sure he could beat her to it.

Roger turned to the board and began drawing up schemes for the Chasers and Beaters to follow. Halfway through his speech, however, hurried footsteps echoed down the tunnel, and Professor McGonagall entered the locker room, lips pursed.

"Morning, Professor," Roger greeted her, frowning. "Is Madam Hooch not refereeing today?"

"I'm afraid today's match has been canceled," McGonagall said grimly. "You will not be taking the field."

"What? Why not?" Roger demanded. "It's the final match of the season!"

"There has been another attack," McGonagall sighed. Harry's stomach dropped – who could it be this time? His anxiety only heightened when McGonagall then turned to him and said, "I'll need you to come with me, Mr. Potter."

"Why me?" Harry stammered in alarm. Surely no one thinks I'm involved….

"The Headmaster requested your presence," said McGonagall shortly. "Quickly, now, before the other students return to the castle."

Harry shared a confused look with his teammates before following McGonagall out of the locker room. He wasn't even given time to change out of his Quidditch robes, feeling rather foolish as he exited the stadium. But it turns out he wasn't the only one: Fred and George Weasley were also wearing their red-and-gold uniforms, looking just as perplexed as Harry as they waited outside to join them.

"Any clue what this is about, Potter?" asked Fred as they marched up the path to the castle behind McGonagall.

"Something about another attack," Harry muttered. "But why us specifically?"

"No clue," said George. They walked through the Entrance Hall after McGonagall, who led them not up to the Headmaster's office as expected, but to the library, where a number of students were milling about outside the entrance, talking worriedly to one another.

"Back to your common rooms, everyone!" McGonagall said sharply. "Professor Dumbledore will address the students shortly." And the other students scattered as McGonagall led Harry, Fred and George into the deserted library.

"I think it's best that you see for yourselves before we clean up the scene," McGonagall said grimly. Harry had a sense of intense foreboding as she led them through the library towards the back, where the high shelves and narrow corridors concealed small nooks and crannies from view. When they reached their destination, Fred and George gave low groans of dismay, and Harry laid eyes on the gruesome scene.

The first thing he noticed was the chessboard, set up in a complex board state that indicated two skilled players. He also noticed the circular mirror mounted on the wall beside the table, which had likely saved the lives of the two smoking, Petrified students seated across from one another. Fred and George trembled fearfully at the sight of their younger brother Ron, face frozen in shock, one arm raised as though to shield Daphne Greengrass from whatever threat had appeared before them.

And on the table beside the chessboard was painted a message in glistening red: 'BLOOD TRAITORS ARE NOT SAFE FROM THE HEIR'S WRATH.'