Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 10: Weasel’s Folly

As was becoming rather customary for Harry, breakfast found him and Ginny being dragged into an empty classroom by a frantic-looking Hermione, who had apparently been released from Madam Pomfrey’s care.

Harry had tried to apologize (he’d nearly killed his best friend because of a stupid lapse in concentration), but Hermione waved it off…and then dropped a bombshell, telling them about how Lisa Turpin had been Petrified. Harry was horrified that he’d been talking to her just hours before she was turned to stone.

Hermione seemed rather guilt-ridden. As it turned out, Lisa had been on her way to pay a late-night visit to her fellow Muggleborn, presumably to drop off some sugar quills. Hermione said that Lisa was an insomniac, a trait that ran in her family, and it thus wasn’t surprising she’d been prowling the halls at one in the morning.

The conversation that Hermione overheard was also concerning in and of itself. It confirmed that Dumbledore believed that this mythic Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and the Monster of Slytherin unleashed. Harry had suggested that they might try to figure out what might be able to cause Petrification. It was bound to be a short list.

They spent hours day after day searching through the library, but it became obvious that information on anything that could cause such Dark symptoms was unlikely to exist outside the Restricted Section. Strangely, Harry didn’t find himself nearly as enthusiastic about finding out what had attacked Lisa and Mrs. Norris as his friends were.

Meanwhile, the disappearance of Lisa Turpin had not gone unnoticed. Most made the connection that she’d been attacked by whatever had Petrified Mrs. Norris. The school remained silent on the subject, despite a number of complaints by students and parents. Even more confusing was that Lisa’s parents were spotted entering the Hospital Wing, and emerging looking rather depressed. Still, most believed that Lisa was alive.

What made her disappearance even stranger was that all the Ravenclaw Second Years confirmed that she appeared fine the night of her disappearance, and Mandy Brocklehurst said that her roommate was not in bed the next morning.

Harry thus far had avoided suspicion. Most knew that Lisa and her fellow Ravenclaws were friends of Harry, and didn’t believe that he’d attack one of the few people that was willing to converse with him. Harry was also seen talking and laughing with Ginny Weasley and Lisa the previous night, and nothing had seemed amiss. Ron Weasley didn’t have any wild rumors for the students to feast on, because both Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had been apparently sleeping soundly the night of the attack, and both appeared as mystified as all were about what had happened to Lisa.

Harry personally thought that Hermione and Ginny were doing a great job concealing what they knew. He hoped his acting was just as good.

Harry was currently lying on his stomach in his four poster bed, having a long overdue conversation with Tom.

…A Parselmouth? That’s interesting.

Sure is. Daphne can’t find any link to Salazar Slytherin’s bloodline in my family.

Indeed, that’s how one would inherit that gift. Salazar was the original, and there have only been a handful throughout history…until you, of course. Seems like a lot of things happen to you.

You’re telling me. At least the whole school doesn’t suspect me anymore. I’m not sure why people always jump on me.

Well, it seems that Slytherin has a negative reputation in your time, far more so than when I went there. You are a powerful wizard for your age, Harry, and people fear that. It seems that they made the foolish assumption that all heroes come from Gryffindor, and thus were blind-sided utterly when you were Sorted into the House of Serpents. One would believe that Grindelwald would have taught them differently…

That’s true. He was a Gryffindor, right?

Yes, a roommate of Albus Dumbledore. They were never friends, or anything like that, but Grindelwald didn’t have the bloodlines or the cunning to be in Slytherin. He was a brave man, if perhaps a man driven mad by his power.

How so?

Grindelwald, as you probably know, was a member of the Nazi Party in Germany. He was Hitler’s wizarding advisor, and commanded the wizarding elements of the Nazi armies. I’m not sure how much you know, but their Confundus Charms were essential to the success of Blitzkrieg, so called ‘Lightning War.’ It involved the rapid moment of armies and aircraft to surprise and outflank the enemy.

How do you know all of this?

Ah. I was a Slytherin, Harry, and an ambitious one at that. While many consider Muggle history beneath them, along with Muggle society, I am of the opinion that we can still learn from their mistakes. They tend to repeat them throughout history. Hitler was a madman, a butcher of innocents, but his success is rooted in his charisma, his drive. He compelled a nation of desperate Germans to create the Third Reich. And to think, he wasn’t even a wizard. While I don’t endorse wholesale slaughter, he is still a man to be admired simply for his leadership.

I see your point there. History’s dictators are often men of great leadership ability.

I’m glad to see I’m talking to someone with knowledge of the subject. Yes, from Napoleon of France, to Joseph Stalin of Russia, to the Kings of Europe and Emperors of Japan, many great leaders can be found. While their methods were not always the best, I daresay some of our weaker Ministers of Magic might learn something from them. From what you’ve told me, this Cornelius Fudge is pitifully weak.

Well, to a degree. I don’t know that much Muggle History, but I know that Stalin was a paranoid maniac and many of the Kings of Europe were weaker than our current Minister…not that it’s a high standard.

Yes, Harry. So has anything else happened involving the Chamber of Secrets?

Well, I told you about Lisa, and Mrs. Norris. The students are not yet fearing for their lives or beginning to panic, but a few more attacks and that may begin.

That, or their parents will demand that action can be taken. Then again, one cannot blame parents for their concern for their children.

The school is trying to cover it up. As bad as that sounds, it really seems like their only real choice. The parents of Muggleborns, who don’t understand how dangerous the Magical World is, will likely begin to pull them out of school. I like Ginny, but I couldn’t survive without Hermione. I doubt she’d benefit much from never seeing me again either.

You seem rather close.

There’s nothing going on, but she’s very important to me. She was the first person to befriend me. Ginny’s nice, and there’s something there, but Hermione was the first to see through the whole ‘Slytherin Boy-Who-Lived’ thing.

Even though you had to get hit by a troll’s club before she’d talk to you? Harry got the idea that he’d be smirking if he could.

Well, there was that. But she was Muggleborn, trying to fit in. Is associating with a person who is universally feared and hated a way to do that?

Perhaps she shouldn’t have let the rumors and falsities she heard bother her…though perhaps you are right. I cannot say I had any true friends, but there were benefits. I became the most knowledgeable student in my year.

I suppose. I’m not sure I would have been able to do that. Did growing up in an orphanage help you learn to operate on your own?

Yes, Harry. You are sharp as always. I had few companions where I grew up. The children were constantly changing anyway, as some were adopted.

I must admit I’m surprised that you weren’t taken in.

I wouldn’t have gone to a Muggle family even if they had been taken with me. A Muggle abandoned my mother, and I had known mistreatment from them at an early age. Hogwarts was the best thing to ever happen to me. A chance to be a standout, to have power that others didn’t. You can’t possibly understand how thrilled I was when Albus Dumbledore himself arrived to tell me what I was.

Dumbledore came himself?

Indeed, it appears my letters were being intercepted and destroyed by an employee who ironically thought he was acting in my best interests. He believed that they were a practical joke.

I can see why he might. So when by the time you were created, you had no one there for you?

No, I did not. My Head of House, Horace Slughorn, viewed me as his prize student, but the man was egotistical and no father-figure. Books were my constant companion. I must have read through two-thirds of the Hogwarts Library. Along the way, I found the way to create this diary. I’m afraid I cannot tell you how, however.

I understand. Your creator must have been very proud, and wished to create something unique. I work hard to improve my magic, but I’m limited until my magic returns. My guardian also doesn’t wish to turn me into a soldier at age twelve. I love her dearly, and she means everything to me, but based on the events of the previous year, I think that my childhood may have to ‘take a back seat’ to my training, to use a Muggle expression.

I see. I must say I don’t agree with Daphne on this note. One always need to be prepared for the worst.

Victory does not bring rest. That should have been the motto of any Quidditch team captained by the eighth-troll ‘Eighth Year’ Marcus Flint. Whoever replaced Flint, one thing was for certain: they couldn’t be any worse.

Flint’s enthusiasm after winning the biggest game of the year lasted until the next practice, which was possibly the most awful two hours of Harry’s life…including the Philosopher’s Stone.

The practice took place on a Saturday, November 11th. As was typical for that time of year in Scotland, the weather was dreadful. It was cold, raining, and windy. Harry’s hands were freezing cold from exposure, and he would need a long, hot shower to regain the feeling in his toes. As it was, his hair was soaked and plastered to his skull, as were his Quidditch robes. Even Hermione and Ginny didn’t dare brave this practice, and Hermione was helping Ginny with a Transfiguration exercise in the library.

The Chasers were just dreadful, Flint included. Pucey’s aim was horrendous, and he missed the goals four time, hitting Warrington in the head twice. Flint’s passes were way off line, and it wasn’t just because of the rain. Montague got Flint ranting at him for missing some of his terrible passes.

Warrington managed to block two goals with his skull, but missed each other goal. Flint hurled one straight at him that had him flying out of the way. For seeking to preserve his physical being, he got a scathing critique from a furious Flint that seemed to involve more insults to his ancestors than actual Quidditch terms.

The Beaters hit Flint twice…the problem was, they’d been aiming for Harry. As easily the smallest and quickest player on the field, Flint decided that Harry was to be the moving target for the Bludgers. Fortunately, the worst injury he’d suffered was a broken wrist. As if to make things worse, Pucey, who was lazily flying by, observing the action, was knocked unconscious when Bole’s bat slipped out of his hand.

Harry fared no better. In the terrible conditions, even with a Water-Repelling Charm he’d picked up from Hermione, he simply could not see the Snitch. His sight was blurred by the torrential rains, and his soaking wet uniform actually slowed him a noticeable amount. The bone-chilling wind was rapidly turning him into a flying icicle. He’d risk a Drying Charm if he wasn’t certain that Flint would bite his head off for a ‘lack of stamina.’

And so it was that freezing cold and absolutely drenched, Harry headed in the Slytherin Locker room, his ears ringing from when Flint had gone off at his team. As if things couldn’t get worse, the showers had been hexed to emit only freezing water. A few Drying and Warming Charms got rid of his chills, but he still felt awful. Still, he headed off to the library through the darkened corridors of the school. Most of the students were in their dormitories or socializing in the Great Hall on this dreadful Saturday.

He made his way upstairs, heading through the second floor, when he saw something rather odd.

Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley, emerging from a bathroom. Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. A girl’s bathroom.

They froze as they spotted him standing there. Harry gave a maddening smirk, perfectly fit for annoying the hell out of Gryffindors. It was a Slytherin trademark. “What are you two doing on this fine day? Peeking into a girl’s bathroom? Really, Weasley, Thomas, I thought you had more class that that?” he drawled lazily. The look on Ron’s face was priceless.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Potter?” Thomas snapped. Harry shrugged. “Going to the library to study with my friends. Am I allowed to ask the same question?”

“You already did,” Ron snapped. “My sister wouldn’t happen to be in the library, would she?”

Harry smirked. So that was what this was about. “Oh yes,” he said in a dreamy voice. “The beautiful, no…gorgeous Ginny Weasley is patiently awaiting the return of her heroic Dark lover, Harry Potter.” Weasley gagged and turned green, while Thomas figured out what Harry was doing and collapsed against the wall, laughing hard. Harry’s smirk thinned a little; he hadn’t intended to amuse either of the Gryffindors.

Ron’s face had gone from green with disgust to purple with rage. “Don’t you touch her, Potter!” he snarled.

Harry smiled, sensing opportunity. “I already have.” When Ron’s eyes bugged out, he added. “Hugging her kind of makes that necessary, does it not? I suppose you might be able to figure out a way to embrace a person without making physical contact, but…”

Dean snorted, but Ron’s eyes glittered darkly. If he held his wand any tighter it would snap in half. Harry was ready to drop into a fighting stance if that was what came of this. “You know what I mean, Potter,” he hissed darkly.

Harry met his glare with his own. “I would never do anything without her permission, Weasley,” he said softly. Assuming his usual drawl, he added, “Perhaps you should stop goggling my sister.” Harry had indeed noticed Ron’s eyes on Hermione quite often. He was convinced that Weasley had a crush on his best friend. Luckily for him, however, he knew that hell would freeze over before Hermione reciprocated it.

Ron turned red, confirming what Harry already knew. “What sister?” he asked in the most innocent-sounding voice he could muster. The problem was, Weasley wasn’t nearly as good as Ginny at looking innocent. Dean was looking sideways at him now, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“You know who I’m talking about, Ron. You haven’t been able to keep your eyes of Hermione. And yet you’ve done a phenomenal job ensuring that she despises you every waking moment of the day,” Harry replied.

Dean snorted. “You fancy Granger?” he asked, snickering.

“Shut up, Dean,” Ron snapped, turning a brighter red.

Harry was enjoying this, but wouldn’t let his original goal slip by this easily. “So, back to what we were discussing, what exactly were you doing in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?”

“None of your business, Potter,” Ron snapped. “Come on Dean.”

The two Gryffindors walked past Harry. As they went down the darkened hallway, he heard Dean ask again. “You actually fancy Granger?”

Ron yelled something at him, and Harry smirked in triumph.

Remembering his earlier destination, Harry hurried down the corridor to the steps leading to the third floor, then took the staircase near the library, and entered it. Students were scattered throughout, textbooks in front of them, speaking in hushed tones on scratching away at pieces of parchment. Madam Pince was replacing books on shelves (Harry had no idea why she couldn’t do it with magic), eyeing the assembled students, ready to throw them out the instant that they talked too loudly for her highly sensitive ears.

Hermione and Ginny were the northeast corner of the library, just outside the entrance to the Restricted Section. Hermione standing next to Ginny, helping her work on a wand movement for something. It actually appeared to be the Levitation Charm, if the ‘swish and flick’ movement was any indication.

Overall, Ginny’s marks this year had been superb. Harry and Hermione were more than happy to help her out with useful information or advice, or physical demonstrations as Hermione was doing at the moment. Hermione would even proofread her essays. The result was that she was on top of her class by a wide margin. Molly Weasley’s last letter had been absolutely gushing with praise for Ginny and thanks for Harry and Hermione.

Their training had continued, but it was more or less just Harry trying to bring Hermione up to his level. Ginny wasn’t happy about it, but from what he’d heard about Mrs. Weasley, he didn’t want to risk her wrath. Harry did point Ginny in the direction of the right books, he just couldn’t actually practice the spells with her.

Hermione was making steady progress. While the Muggleborn witch took longer to master most spells, Harry was starting to get the idea that he had exceptional magical power for his age. Hermione had mastered the Striking Curse, Blinding Hex, Burning Hex, Shield Charm, Stunning Spell, Disarming Spell, Blasting Hex, and Cutting Curse, along with a plethora of miscellaneous spells ranging from Drying Charms to the Boiling Curse. The later would be very useful if Harry had to fight underwater. Other than that, if used with minimum power, it was as good as a Warming Charm.

Hermione stepped behind the redhead and grasped her wrist, demonstrating the proper wrist movement. Ginny beamed as the pile of textbooks in front of her began floating. Hermione began talking very fast, based upon the movement of her lips, but Harry heard no sound. He then realized that his clever best friend must have cast Silencing Charms around the perimeter of ‘their’ study corner.

He walked closer, inside the charms.

“…that’s it, Ginny. Now, is there anything else you needed help with…Hi Harry!” Hermione called excitedly.

Ginny turned around, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. She looked him up and down, and grimaced. “You look a mess.”

“Thanks Ginny,” Harry said sarcastically, plopping down tiredly on his chair.

“How was practice?” Hermione asked. Her smile faded as she saw Harry’s grimace. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad and worse,” Harry replied, closing his eyes. “The whole team was just awful, including me. Flint really chewed us out, and I couldn’t feel my toes until about four seconds ago.” The two girls gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well, I’m glad Flint is going to be gone next year,” Ginny said, then became nervous. “…I was kind of hoping to try out, Chaser, probably.” Harry smiled to encourage her.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let Flint stay for a ninth year, no matter how bad his grades are. Bole and Derrick are graduating too. You’ll have some competition, though…”

Ginny’s looked glum. “Well, the best you can do is try, right Harry?” Hermione said hopefully. As many games and practices as she attended, Hermione really didn’t know anything about Quidditch outside the actual rules.

“I suppose…I’ve never seen you fly before. How much flying have you done?” Harry asked.

Ginny’s frown turned into a mischievous grin. “Actually, I’ve been breaking into the broomshed since I was six years old to ‘borrow’ my brothers’ brooms. I’m actually…pretty good…” she said, turning bright red. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you are, Ginny. I wouldn’t mind having someone else to suffer through Quidditch practices with…though I might be distracted by your looks…”

“HARRY!” Ginny and Hermione cried simultaneously.

And if it was pouring with rain, lightning strikes hitting dangerously close to the players, freezing cold, and the wind blowing at seventy-five kilometers an hour…

They’d play.

A Ravenclaw Beater whacked a Bludger towards him, and Harry evaded it, heading back towards the other end of the field. Bole met the blue and bronze-clad player in mid-air, and hammered the Bludgers away from him, until he hit it into the back of James Bradley, nearly unseating him as he howled in pain. Flint took advantage of the Beater’s injury to get the ball to Pucey, who hurled it through the hoop past the Bryan Lynch, the Ravenclaw keeper, to make it five straight Slytherin goals to open the game.

Well, at least one good thing had come out of all the pain and suffering: the team was a sharp as they’d ever been. For the second consecutive year, the Ravenclaws were completely outmatched.

Or at least they were…until a well-aimed Bludger connected with Adiran Pucey’s head. The boy was knocked off him broom, and only Harry’s hasty Levitation Charm saved him from serious injury. This time, Hooch thanked Harry for using magic during a game as the unconscious boy was loaded onto a stretcher and rushed to the Hospital Wing with a cracked skull.

In Quidditch, there are no substitutions. There are reserves, but because so few injuries ever knock a player out for the entire game, few teams had them. Slytherin had none. Down to two Chasers, the Slytherins were at a major disadvantage.

The Ravenclaws took advantage, giving Warrington whiplash as they scored nine unanswered goals, interrupted by two timeouts and accompanying tirades by Flint.

His message got through during the third timeout, and he and Pucey managed to forced four goals through while Warrington showed previously unseen skill and blocked six straight shots. Until Roger Davies hurled one through the center hoop and gave Ravenclaw the lead.

Harry circled the Pitch one more time, keeping an eye on the Ravenclaw Chaser, a pretty Asian girl named Cho Chang. Harry didn’t often tail other Seekers, but with the luck he was having today, he couldn’t afford to let Chang get a free pass at the Snitch.

Harry did a pair of barrel-rolls that would probably have Hermione screaming at him for unnecessary risk-taking, then flew around in a loop, flashing by Cho, who was entertaining herself in a similar fashion. The Snitch was no where to be found in the mess, and Harry needed to do something to distract himself from the cold.

Cho flew by lazily. “Having fun, Potter?” she called over.

“Better than doing nothing!” Harry yelled through the storm. He’d already tried to take her out with twice, but she’d apparently been paying attention to what he’d done to Weasley and McGlaggen, and kept her distance, ascertaining that Harry didn’t actually have a line on the Snitch.

Cho flew away, searching elsewhere. Harry glanced down to see that the score was now 170-160 in favor of Ravenclaw. Harry thought Flint and Montague were doing a remarkable job in the absence of Pucey.

Finally, with his hands practically frozen to his Nimbus, Harry spotted his elusive prey. The golden glimmer near the Slytherin goalposts sent a surge of adrenaline into his system, and he was off like a rocket. Cho was left in his vapor trail as he wrapped numb fingers around the struggling golden ball, pumping his fist in weary triumph.

The Slytherins didn’t bother to celebrate on the field, making for the locker room, and warmth, as soon as they were sure the game was over. Harry changed and took a long shower in the un-hexed stalls, trying to drown himself in scalding water to stop his shivering.

When he emerged a half-hour later, he received hugs from his two best friends, and the expected tirade from Hermione about his ‘outrageously unnecessary risk-taking and daredevil stunts.’ Harry was grateful that she cared so much, but didn’t object when Ginny Silenced her.

Christmas was fast approaching, and Ginny wasn’t happy. Apparently, her parents’ financial situation made it almost necessary for them to leave their children at Hogwarts. They also wanted to visit Bill Weasley in Egypt (They’d visited Ginny’s Dragon-handler brother, Charlie, in Romania the previous year). Harry was going home to Dressler Manor to spend the holidays with Daphne and the Tonks’ (apparently, Andromeda and Daphne were constantly exchanging owls, their friendship renewed)

The woman may have been nine years Daphne’s senior, but the two had met at the Ministry the during Daphne’s Auror training. Harry was rapidly growing to think of the younger Tonks as his older sister (after all, she could pass for a sister if she wanted to). Hermione was once more expected to visit relatives, none of whom were her age, along with her parents. Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought that Hermione’s parents were trying to get as much of their daughter in ‘their’ world as they could. Hermione resented this to a degree, though she loved her parents dearly.

What was of interest was Ron Weasley’s mysterious behavior. Hermione had been keeping an eye on him ever since Harry found him walking out of the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. He’s been disappearing for long periods of time. There was also the major fiasco in potions about a month earlier, the day after the attack on Lisa. Crabbe and Goyle’s potion had exploded, dousing the entire class in Swelling Solution (Snape was bitterly re-teaching it), except for Harry and Hermione who dove for cover before the explosion. Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d seen a sparking object hurled from the direction of Ron Weasley. Dean Thomas had also vanished for a moment. Hermione thought he might be attempting to brew Polyjuice Potion, though the inept Gryffindor was more likely to poison himself than actually succeed.

Ginny and Harry were walking alone through the First Floor near the Hospital Wing, after saying a quick hello to the un-hearing Lisa Turpin. Hermione had stayed behind, feeling guilty that the Ravenclaw had been Petrified because she’d been coming to visit her fellow Muggleborn. The entire school now knew about the entire affair, mostly because a sick student had ripped the curtains aside searching for an unused bed, revealing the Petrified girl. He’d reported her dead, but older students had recognized the symptoms and identified that she was merely Petrified.

As they walked along the corridor, they were met by a rather strange sight: Crabbe and Goyle, not only alone, but also chasing a pair of floating cupcakes. Harry heard Ginny give an un-ladylike snort of laughter as the two clueless-looking goons disappeared upstairs. Nearby, Harry spotted Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect and Percy Weasley’s girlfriend (Ginny had had the unfortunate experience of walking in on them snogging in a deserted classroom). The tall girl with curly blond hair was snickering at the antics of Malfoy’s goons. Harry also noticed her wand was drawn.

Harry and Ginny went into the Great Hall, which was bustling with student activity on this frigid day. Some students were doing homework, others were chatting idly, watched over by the imposing presence of Severus Snape, whose ears appeared to be more sensitive than Madam Pince’s ears when it came to an ‘unacceptable’ noise level. The two walked over to where Michael Crawford, Terry Boot, Padma Patil, and Mandy Brocklehurst were studying quietly.

“Hello Harry, Ginny,” Michael said, glancing up from a book on hags. Harry had pursued his earlier suspicion, and found that Michael was in fact very distantly related to Daphne O’Connor.

“Hello Michael,” Ginny said, plopping down next to Mandy. Harry took a seat next to Padma Patil. He liked the twins a lot more than her gossipy, superficial sister, Parvati. Hermione shared this view.

“Where’s Hermione?” Terry asked, looking around. “You guys are never away from each other.”

“We are occasionally,” Harry pointed out. “But that’s not the point…Hermione’s visiting her friend,” Harry said, putting emphasis on the last word to show that she was with Lisa. Harry and Ginny had told Terry and Mandy about what had happened (without mentioning the Chamber of Secrets).

“Oh, I see,” Mandy said. “So what have you two been up to?”

“Not much,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair absently. “Flint’s stopped trying to kill us on regular basis.”

“He took out his frustrations on our Quidditch team then?” Padma asked. “That’s two years in a row they’ve manhandled us.”

“I suppose we did,” Harry admitted. “But I doubt you want to talk about Quidditch.”

“You’re damn right,” Terry said excitedly. “Tell us what you know about the Chamber of Secrets. I heard you discussing it with Granger, and you know more than Hogwarts: A History does.”

Harry sighed. He then proceeded to explain the entire legend from his memory of Daphne’s letter. The Ravenclaws were a very receptive audience. Mindful of Dumbledore’s warning, he neglected to mention the events of fifty years prior. Ginny gave him a questioning glance, but then realized the reason for his omission.

“Wow, that’s something,” Mandy said. “Well, Mandy’s Muggleborn, and Filch is a Squib…do you have any idea who the Heir of Slytherin might be? Probably someone in your House, no?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Harry said with mock-incredulity. “I or Draco Malfoy has to be the Heir of Slytherin. After all, I’m a Dark Wizard who eats First Years for dinner in cannibalistic Dark rituals that increase my power in between seducing the innocent, love-struck Ginny Weasley (while she knew he was making fun of Ron’s nonsensical rumors, Ginny still turned bright red), and sets the Monster of Slytherin on Muggleborns in my spare time. Oh, and I’m a Parselmouth, which should get me thrown into Azkaban because it’s conclusive proof that I’m a Dark Wizard…Draco’s just comes from a Dark family and is the son of a Death Eater, and he’s been passed the key to the Heir of Slytherin from his father, Lucius.” Harry finished with a deep breath, and would have patted himself on the back for keeping a straight face if people wouldn’t think he was a narcissistic egomaniac.

The Ravenclaws stared at him for a moment, processing what they’d just heard. Then Terry snorted and started howling with laughter, followed by the rest of the Ravenclaw table. Snape angrily walked over and ordered them out. They packed up their books and headed for their respective dormitories, though not before Terry and Micheal both smacked him on the back in congratulations. Harry apologized to Ginny after that, and the small redhead kicked him in the shin.

They headed downstairs towards the dungeons. As they walked along the corridor, they saw another strange sight: Crabbe and Goyle determinedly rattling off passwords…to a blank stone wall.

As dull as Crabbe and Goyle were, they would not forget where the Common Room was, and the only thing they seemed to be capable of remembering was the week’s passwords.

“Ginny,” he whispered, ducking out of sight. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“…what?...OH!...no, no, they couldn’t have been that stupid,” Ginny mumbled to herself. Harry’s face was set and determined.

“I’ll bet you ten galleons that that’s your brother and Dean Thomas under Polyjuice Potion…I don’t know how they brewed it, but nonetheless. Care to have a little talk with your darling brother?”

Ginny’s eye’s which had been wide with disbelief, were narrowed in anger. Harry wasn’t surprised; she had to feel betrayed that Ron wouldn’t trust her to know her best friend and another boy in her House wasn’t the Heir. And that he’d taken such steps to violate their collective privacy and potentially get himself expelled. “Let’s go,” she hissed.

Harry and Ginny strode towards the two imposters, wide grins on their faces. A flick of his wrist and his wand was in his hand. “Evening Weasley…you seem to have forgotten where your Common Room is…and what uniforms you where…and that brewing Polyjuice Potion is illegal…and that your sister would skin you alive for trying this…and that your mum would incinerate whatever was left of you…and that Crabbe and Goyle are slightly more intelligent than the average troll.” With every word Harry said, Dean and Ron’s eyes widened in terror. Harry now had a malicious grin on his face. “I think we need to have a little talk. Stupefy!” Ginny and Harry cried simultaneously.

They dragged the unconscious Gryffindors into a side classroom, and dumped them in the middle. Finally, the Polyjuice wore off, and the two groaned as they awakened. Ron looked around mumbling something, then froze when he saw Harry and Ginny standing there, wands drawn. “YOU!” he yelled, then registered the presence of his sister.

“Evening, Ronald,” Ginny said coldly. “Now why don’t you give us one reason why we shouldn’t report you to Professor Snape for brewing an illegal potion and raiding his storeroom. I daresay he’ll be rather angry with you. And I doubt Dad will be very pleased when Dumbledore snaps Granddad’s wand.”

What Ginny was saying appeared to be sinking in, and Ron paled dramatically. Dean seemed to be hiding in the shadows, trying to avoid notice. Harry wasn’t planning to allow him to succeed. “And you, Thomas. Your father would be quite disappointed…Wesley Jugson’s own son, expelled for illegally impersonating a student.” Dean’s mouth dropped open.

“What?”

“You don’t know?” Harry asked curiously.

Dean shook his head nervously. “I do, but no one else does…except you apparently…and now everyone is this room…”

“Yes, Daphne put your biological uncle into Azkaban,” Harry replied coldly. “Who knows, you might join him for a time?”

Dean swallowed. “My mother had nothing to do with that filth!” Ron and Ginny were staring back and forth between the two boys, trying to understand the cryptic conversation they were having.

“I’m sure,” Harry replied, a trace of sympathy leaking into his voice. “Addison did kill Wesley, of course. Then Emma Jugson re-married a Muggle while pregnant with Wesley’s son, Clarence Thomas, raising you as Dean Thomas.” Dean nodded gravely. “I won’t tell anyone else,” he replied honestly. “Unless you give me reason to…”

Ron snarled, not at Dean, but at Harry. “Bastard…Ginny, how can you adore this…piece of dragon dung?”

Ginny’s glare intensified, red appearing on her cheeks not from embarrassment, but from anger. “Because I choose to,” she hissed.

“Back to our conversation, Weasley, you get your wish. I’ll tell you straight out that neither me nor Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin…it makes much more sense for it to be older student, does it not?” Ron just glared at him. “Who was the third person, I know you couldn’t have brewed Polyjuice on your own.”

Dean sighed. “It was Penelope Clearwater.” Ron looked at him like he was a traitor.

“Dean!”

“What, Ron? It’s not like they wouldn’t have found out anyway!” he yelled at his friend.

“We’ll deal with her later…Ginny, we shouldn’t let this excellent blackmail opportunity go by, should we?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes on Weasel. Ginny grinned evilly, her Slytherin side showing through her innocent exterior. Ron looked absolutely horrified.

“Seen this before, Weasel?” Harry taunted.

“She always used to get us in trouble…then blackmail us when it was actually our fault,” Ron admitted. “I never though it would make her a slimy Slytherin.”

“For that, Ron,” Ginny cut him off, “if you ever do something to cause Hermione to slap you, I’ll rat you out to Snape.” Ron did a good imitation of a goldfish.

“You…bloody…traitor!” he got out. Ginny flinched. Harry’s eyes darkened dangerously.

“Say that again, Weasel, and you’ll wish you’d never been born,” Harry hissed darkly, his eyes flashing red. Ginny flinched, and Ron’s eyes widened in terror.

“Come on, Harry, let’s leave these two idiots,” Ginny said, grabbing him by the sleeve of his robes. When they were outside, Harry rounded on her.

“What was that about?” he demanded. Ginny flinched again; she really didn’t like seeing Harry, who was so laid back at times, this angry.

“You were about to curse him…I though it best I get you out of there…” she replied nervously. Harry’s glare softened into an expression of shame and gratitude.

“Thanks Ginny,” he said. “I’m sorry about what that git said-“

“It’s not your fault,” Ginny pointed out. “I’ll be okay,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

Harry wasn’t sure he believed her, though.