Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

I'm going to torture you a bit more. I broke this chapter into two parts. Mwahahahaha!

Chapter 17: Legacy of the Founders

“…Harry…Harry…”

“Harry, wake up!”

Harry woke slowly to the voice of a frightened-sounding girl whispering in his ear. He opened his eyes and saw Ginny standing next to him. Her face pale, and tears were sliding down her cheeks.

“Ginny?” Harry mumbled sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“Hermione,” Ginny explained quickly, “she’s been attacked.”

The words were easily as effective as a bucket of freezing water; Harry’s eyes flew open and he began moving immediately. He put his diary in his pocket absently, and then packed away the rest of his belongings.

Harry slid on his trainers and began walking quickly. “Hospital Wing?” he asked. Ginny nodded.

“She was found with Terry Boot…he’s Petrified…but she’s…not,” Ginny mumbled.

“What’s wrong with her?” Harry asked. He was almost afraid to know.

“I don’t know,” Ginny admitted. “Professor Snape found me; he was actually a bit spooked about it. But he didn’t mention what she was hit with.”

“Hit with?” Harry said, stopping in his tracks. “As in with a curse?”

Ginny nodded grimly. “Like I said, she wasn’t Petrified.”

They hurried up towards the Hospital Wing, Ginny clinging to Harry’s hand as if for dear life. Obviously, the attack on their best friend had hit the young redhead very hard indeed. They reached the stairs and climbed up to the landing. Taking a deep breath, Harry shoved the door open.

The Hospital Wing was brightly lit, even with the dark and dreary weather. Harry saw Hermione’s hair from one of the cots on the far end of the Hospital Wing. The Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were clustered around her, along with Madam Pomfrey.

“How is she?” Harry asked. Snape turned around.

“Potter, Weasley,” he said by way of greeting. “We are rather fortunate, actually. Unless I am seriously mistaken, she was hit with the Mind Death Curse.”

Harry’s blood ran cold. He had heard of the curse, it was a favorite among Voldemort’s most sadistic Death Eaters. It caused excruciating mental anguish while forcing the victim to relieve their most frightening fears. It also slowly shut down the mind, causing a long, slow, painful death.

“I wouldn’t be quite as concerned as you are, Potter,” Snape said. “Fortunately, a number of techniques for treating victims of the curse were developed towards the end of the First War. Granger will survive.”

“Not only that, Mister Potter,” Madam Pomfrey commented, “but she’ll be fully on the road to recovery by midnight. The Curse was so popular among the Death Eaters that the Ministry went to great lengths to find a way to combat it. Miss Granger has been given a number of special Mind Healing potions and spells, and will probably suffer more damage from her fall and subsequent head injury then the Curse.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said, confused. “Why is it so disturbing that someone used a curse that is easy to counter nowadays?”

Snape glared at him. “Because, Potter, it means that it is something from the past that has been attacking people. Any idiot capable of performing the Curse knows that it is useless in this setting.”

“Severus, I believe you are being a bit rude,” Dumbledore cut in.

Harry smiled as Dumbledore intervened; he was not in the mood to argue with his Head of House. Regardless of what Madam Pomfrey and Snape said, he was still worried about the state of his best friend.

Then Dumbledore’s smile faded. His clear blue eyes moved slowly behind their half-moon glasses, and bore straight into Harry. Harry felt a sharp pain behind his eyes. Something stirred in his subconsciousness. He blinked.

Dumbledore’s twinkle was completely gone. He was now looking at Harry with a mixture of shock and sadness. “Harry, turn over your wand, if you would,” he said gravely. Both McGonagall and Snape spun around, mouths open. Snape turned slowly to stare at Harry, who was feelingly extremely nervous all of a sudden.

Ginny gaped. “What? Why do you want him to turn over his wand? You don’t think…” she trailed off, staring at Harry in absolute horror.

“Harry, your wand,” Dumbledore said again, more firmly this time. Harry limply withdrew the wand from his holster and held it out. Snape snapped it away from him, staring at it with a strange mix of curiosity and disgust. Harry swallowed.

“I don’t understand,” he said thickly. “I’ve done nothing. I’d never hurt Hermione.”

Dumbledore nodded toward Snape, who seemed to understand, even if he was stunned by the implications. McGonagall continued to stand off to the side, her mouth agape. “I believe you, Mr. Potter. But it is not you whom I am concerned about…”

“Priori Incantato,” her Head of House whispered reluctantly, as if it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

Harry blacked out.

Harry had cast the Mind Death Curse.

Harry was the Heir of Slytherin

No matter. He had been planning to execute his final plan for a month now. And standing beside him was the perfect target.

Tom gathered his coils of darkness and enveloped the blue light of Harry’s consciousness, crushing it and beating it into submission. He bound and trussed it and shoved it into the very back of Harry’s mind, into the mental prison he had so painstakingly constructed. He stripped Harry of all control, mental, physical, everything. He knew the consequences of his action. But he was about to do something that, if Potter was capable of resisting, would probably allow him to break Tom’s hold and regain control of his body. At this stage, Tom could not afford that.

The consequence of this action was that Daphne Dressler now knew her adopted son was in danger. He could feel the ring’s magic pulsing, sending waves of energy towards the distant Dressler Manor. Soon her own ring would burn, and she would travel to Hogwarts very quickly.

Riddle chuckled quietly as he heard the gasps and intakes of breath from the assembled wizards and witches. He also heard a scream of terror from the small redhead standing beside him. Ah, time to begin…

Without warning, he seized Ginny’s arms and twisted them behind her. He secured her against him, preventing any chance of escape, and using her as a shield against the others. Snape stared, open-mouthed, at the shade of his former master He didn’t even react when the wand in his hand soared through the air, landing in Riddle’s outstretched palm. He forced Ginny’s head upward, exposing the column of her throat. He twisted his right arm around, pointing the wand tip at Ginny’s throat. The girl whimpered in terror. The Professors were frozen.

“Tom,” Dumbledore spat with disgust, “let them go. This is between us.”

“You think me a fool, do you, Dumbledore? I believe that I have the advantage in this situation.”

“Headmaster, what..?” Snape began.

Tom sneered at him. “Hello, Severus.”

“What..?”

“ I suppose I don’t know you,” Tom admitted. “Not that that matters. One day, you will kneel at my feet…though I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to call it the past or to call it the future…”

“Fight him, Harry,” Dumbledore implored, sending waves of Legillimacy at him to aid the boy’s mental resistance. But Tom channeled his power, drawing on the combined strength of his host and the power imbued within the diary that resided in his pocket.

“He cannot hear you, Dumbledore,” Tom taunted. “His mind is incapacitated; I have full control now.” He pulled Ginny tighter to his body, eliciting a moan of pain from the eleven-year old. For that he yanked her hair. The trembling girl was obviously terrified. “Quiet, girl.” She shut up immediately, but continued to shake with fright.

“Let her go, Tom,” Dumbledore implored him again. “She is nothing to you.”

Tom laughed. “She is everything to me, Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore drew his wand. “Release him, Tom,” he commanded. Tom adjusted so that Ginny was now shielding him from any attack. “Go ahead, Dumbledore, kill her. Then I’ll be all yours.”

Tom laughed as Dumbledore did nothing. Severus was slowly raising his wand, taking careful aim. Tom waved his wand, focusing his magic. The Hogwarts Potions Professor was hurled backward and slammed into the wall. “Don’t try to sneak up on me, Severus,” he warned. McGonagall had raised her own wand, but could not bring it upon her self to cast anything that could break through a basic Shielding Charm without harming Ginny.

“I’m afraid I must be going, Dumbledore. We shall meet again.”

Tom sent a burst of Legillimacy at the youngest Weasley, and she went limp in his arms. Clutching her to his side with one arm, he hurled his free arm in the direction of the floor, sending forth a massive burst of magical energy.

He was already moving when it hit the ground.

The resulting blast knocked back all four adults and blew a massive hole in the floor of the Hospital Wing. Minerva coughed as she inhaled the smoke and small debris. Dumbledore cast something, and the air cleared.

Her heart stopped in her chest.

Harry and Ginny were gone.

He stopped outside the Hospital Wing, shifted the girl’s weight, and flung the cloak over himself. It magically expanded to cover both of their bodies. A few Silencing Charms later, Tom Riddle could move through the school undetected. He removed the ring and placed it in his pocket. The damage was done.

He moved quickly, knowing that he had precious little time to prepare. He reached the Second Floor Corridor. However, as he did so, he ran straight into something, and the Cloak slid off. It was the buffoon, Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Mr. Potter..?” he asked in a high-pitched voice.

“I’m afraid you’ve just witnessed something unfortunate, Gilderoy,” Riddle said softly.

“As have you!” he cried, standing up and aiming his wand, in perhaps the most courageous action of his life. He then, of course, proceeded to use the only curse he was remotely proficient in using.

“I’ve caught you!” he said again. Riddle was shocked by the man’s stupidity. Harry was right. How the bloody hell was this disgrace to purebloods a Slytherin?

“OBLIVIATE!” he cried. A grey jet shot from his light. Riddle lazily waved his wand, creating a pale red barrier, a Mental Protection Shield. Normally it was used to deflect mental intrusions via Legillimacy. Because the Memory Charm worked in a similar fashion, it was just as effective.

The grey light struck the barrier and was reflected off it at a much greater velocity. It struck Lockhart in the head, hurling him backwards. He slammed into the far castle wall, and slumped to the floor, unconscious. Riddle smiled. He had just done to Lockhart what he believed the fraud had done to countless others. He’d probably spend the rest of his life in the Permanent Care Ward in St. Mungo’s.

He lazily hurled Lockhart’s body down the hall, out of sight, and walked into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The Mudblood ghost was crying, as she did quite often. She’d been that way when she’d been among the living as well. Riddle pulled the Cloak off, shutting and locking the door behind him. “I suggest you leave, Mudblood,” he hissed.

The ghost’s eyes widened and she let out a shriek of alarm. She dove into the closest stall, disappearing down a toilet with a splash of water and a shriek. That was curious, Tom thought as he stood in front of the hidden entrance. I’ve never seen a ghost that can affect any type of physical substance. Then again, the girl cried enough tears to fill the lake.

“Open,” he hissed in Parseltongue. He smiled as the sinks rearranged themselves before vanishing entirely, revealing the long pipe. “Descend,” he hissed next. A platform, floating in midair, slid out of the side wall. Only a fool would slide down the pipe. He adjusted the girl’s weight again, and stepped onto the platform.

It descended deep into the underground cavern that held the Chamber of Secrets. Tom stepped off it and into a pile of animal bones. He moved quietly through the tunnels, stopping in front of the doors. “Open,” he hissed.

The snakes moved and the double-doors slid open revealing the cavernous chamber within. Tom moved quickly now. Time was of the essence.

He lay the girl down at the base of Slytherin’s statue, and removed the Diary from his pocket. He bent down and tucked the small book into her arms. Next, he lay down next to her.

He withdrew into Harry’s mind. He could still see the blue light struggling, surrounded by serpent-like coils of Darkness. He fed more power into the mental bonds, but not so much as to drain himself and be unable to duel if that was what it came to. He found the link he had created in Harry’s mind, and latched onto it. Then he pushed.

For the first time in over fifty years, Tom Riddle found himself standing outside the diary or his host, seeing the world through his own eyes. He looked down, and saw that he appeared to be a ghost of some sort. No matter,he would be gaining enough strength to create a corporeal form soon.

Bending down, he attempted to pick up Potter’s wand. His hand passed right through it. Frustrated, he called upon more power from the Diary, nearly draining the massive reserves entirely. His creator had planned for any contingency. He watched, smiling, as his outline grew sharper. Once more, he bent down and reached for the wand. This time he picked it up and twirled it in his fingers absently, a minor quirk of his.

It was time. He called upon the power of his ancestors, of those who carried within them the blood of Salazar Slytherin, who had discovered this rite.

He stepped back, and aimed at the girl's forehead. He'd have one shot to make this work. But he'd researched this spell with fervor in his past, and even freshened up on it recently in one of his late-night excursions.

He began the wand movements. "Resurrectio, resurrectio," he chanted, moving his arm in a wide arc, cutting down diagonally towards the girl's head. He snapped his wrist upward twice. Next, he traced the outline of the girl's face carefully. She did not stir, fortunate because the slightest movement could mean disaster. The wand tip glowed a brilliant red, then faded to orange, then finally to a blazing yellow.

He touched his glowing wand to the girl's forehead, performing one of the Darkest Magical Rituals in existence.

"Sua vita est mea vita," he said slowly and clearly.

The wand tip glowed, and bright blue tendrils of magical energy began to crackle up the wand into Riddle's form. He smiled and withdrew the wand. He felt his strength building, his senses sharpening. He looked down to see his outline growing clearer with every passing moment.

The Rite of Unwilling Sacrifice was begun.

Minerva McGonagall looked around once more, shock still numbing her body. She saw Severus pick himself off the floor, looking around in disbelief. Albus was already standing, and looked lifeless and grim. "Albus…" she began shakily. "What was that? What's wrong with Harry?"

"It was the Dark Lord, wasn't it, Albus?" Severus sneered. "He's been possessing Potter the entire year, hasn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes," he said gravely.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then…

"Where's Harry?" a voice snapped.

Minerva turned around to see Daphne Dressler standing there, her face pale and skin drawn tightly, her eyes blazing with an inner fury. Minerva noticed that she was wearing what appeared to be a modified form of Auror Battle Robes. They were lighter, more durable, and shorter than most robes, allowing greater freedom of movement. Normally they were bright red, so as to avoid misidentification in battle; Daphne's were emerald green. "What took him, Albus?" she demanded in a shaky voice. "Why is my ring burning?"

"Your ring?" Severus asked. "What ring?"

"This ring," she said, thrusting her right hand at him. Severus's eyes narrowed as he recognized it. It was an old Companionship Ring, a pureblood heirloom that was normally given to the eldest son or daughter and his beloved. Daphne had certainly found an alternative use for it.

"Harry has been taken, Daphne," Dumbledore said gravely. "He has been taken by Lord Voldemort."

What little color was left in Daphne's face from her anger vanished. "What?" she asked shakily. Minerva thought she was on the verge of a nervous collapse.

"You were right, Daphne," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes. "It appears likely that Harry has been carrying out the attacks on the students and the cat while controlled by a powerful magical object belonging to Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was likely one of his early experiments with immortality…I believe that the object in question is the diary that Harry has been writing in."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Minerva questioned. She had never heard of anyone with that name.

"He was a year behind you at Hogwarts, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "A Slytherin Prefect and Head Boy. Very quiet, very shy…at least in public."

Then she remembered him. Always extremely polite, especially to me. He'd been among the top students in the school, actually, he had been the top student. She'd been a Gryffindor Prefect, and had talked to him. He'd gathered…followers, she thought the word fit better than friends. Avery, Roland and Helga McCourn, Evan Rosier…

"I remember him," she said. "His…friends were students that went on to serve You-Know-Who!"

Dumbledore looked grave. But it was Daphne who answered the question. "No…they went on to serve him," she said, turning to Dumbledore. "Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort, didn't he?"

"Alas, yes. If you remember correctly, Minerva, he was responsible for Rubeus's expulsion from the school."

Minerva indeed remembered that year. It was the first time the Chamber had been opened, when the school had come to close to closing. After the death of…what was her name..?

"Albus, who was it that died last time?" Minerva asked. She had a strange feeling that it might be important."

"Our very own Florence Myrtle."

"That miserable ghost?" Severus asked. "I always thought she drowned in her own tears…or was dehydrated by them."

"No," Dumbledore said, ignoring Severus's comment. "She died in the very bathroom where she now resides."

Daphne swallowed hard, and then shook her head. "This is impossible," she said dismissively. "It can't have been the diary. I detected no traces of Dark Magic. I know Harry lied about where he got it, but there is no way that he's being possessed by it."

"If he lied about where he got it, then how do you know anything for a fact? I don't think you understand the magnitude of this, Dressler, Severus said softly, but with a hard edge to his voice.

"What are you talking about, Severus?" she hissed angrily.

He glared at her. "I'm talking about the fact that if the Dark Lord is embedded enough in Potter's mind to possess him, then he doubtless has been influencing his behavior for the entire year," he said, slowly and softly. Daphne stared at him.

"For the entire year?" she repeated in a daze. "…oh Merlin…" she breathed. "…how could I have missed it…HOW?"

Minerva's heart went out to the shell-shocked ex-Auror, but she knew that they had little time to dwell on their mistakes. "Yes, we all failed," she admitted. "But we must not dwell on that…Riddle took Miss Weasley with her."

Daphne's head snapped up as if someone had pulled a string. "What?"

"Before you arrived, which I still not completely sure how you managed, we had a bit of a scene," Severus explained in an icy voice.

"I arrived via Portkey," Daphne said quickly. "What are you talking about?"

Severus sneered. "An illegal Portkey, no doubt."

"Yes, it was," she admitted through gritted teeth.

Minerva took this time to speak up. "Harry came in here with Miss Weasley to see Miss Granger-"

Daphne's head snapped up again. "What? What's wrong with Hermione?"

"She's been attacked, Daphne, with the Mind Death Curse," Dumbledore said. Daphne took in a breath sharply. "I think it best I tell you the entire story. Harry's behavior has been…erratic for the entire year. He's been acting as if he hadn't gotten much sleep almost every night. I suspected that he was going on nightly excursions. The question was, to where?"

"I suppose it would be," Daphne said more to herself than anyone else. "Did you follow him?"

"I could not," Dumbledore said. I could not detect him on any of my instruments, nor could I see his aura. I know why now; it wasn't Harry, it was Tom Riddle."

"…and because your Aura Readers rely on the aura of a specific wizard, you wouldn't be able to track Harry," Daphne finished. "That makes sense."

Minerva thought it was remarkable how calm she was. Perhaps she is intelligent and logical enough to realize that poorly thought-out action would do little. It is quite admirable, certainly not what one would expect from her. Not after what she's already lost…

"That is not all," Severus cut in. "After I found Granger and Boot on the Second Floor, I sent Weasley to find Potter. When they returned, Albus…what did you do?" Severus questioned.

Daphne looked at him expectantly. "I used Legilimency, Daphne. My suspicions had been aroused."

"I understand," Daphne said, taking a deep breath. "What did you see?"

"Absolutely nothing," Dumbledore said. "I was pushed out by a Dark presence. I recognized it immediately. My former pupil leaves a…foul stench of sorts."

"What happened then?" Daphne asked hurriedly.

"Then, Riddle possessed him, seized Weasley, blew that hole in the floor, and fled," Severus summarized. Daphne looked like she was having trouble breathing.

"Thank you, Severus," she said quietly, almost absently. "We got to find them. He's likely seeking to use one or both of their life energies to regain a body."

"A brilliant idea, Daphne, but we don't know where the Chamber is, or what's down there. I thought you were a Ravenclaw; don't they normally think things through before doing something phenomenally stupid?" Severus commented sharply.

Daphne stiffened. "Fine. You are right about that," she admitted, with audible strain in her voice. Whether it was from admitting that she was being rash or because she was concerned about Harry, it was impossible to determine.

Minerva tuned out the conversation and wandered over to her favorite pupil. The Muggleborn girl was limp and pale, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then something caught Minerva's eye. A sheet of paper, rolled up into a ball, was sticking out of the pocket of her shirt. Carefully, Minerva removed it, and unfolded it. Daphne and Severus were arguing about something now.

Minerva laid it flat on the nightstand, and read:

"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."

Minerva inhaled sharply. Surely there isn't a Basilisk down there!

"I think I know what might be down there," Minerva said finally. "Or rather, Miss Granger did." She handed the page over the Dumbledore, who frowned as he read it.

"Yes, that is hardly surprising. I should have thought of it sooner. It also explains the petrified victims; the glare of a basilisk can be 'diluted' if it is not direct," Dumbledore said mostly to him.

Both Severus and Daphne stopped arguing. "There''s a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets?" Daphne breathed.

"It appears so," Dumbledore said, pacing around the Hospital Wing. He stared out the window onto the grounds, now illuminated by the evening light. "But we are no closer to finding out where Tom has taken Harry and Ginny."

Daphne was now furiously pacing around the Infirmary. Her face was a mask of concentration, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Then she stopped. "Albus, the attacks all took place on the second floor, correct?"

"All except for the attack on Miss Turpin," Dumbledore said. "She was found on the stairs just outside the door."

Daphne started pacing again. "Where could the entrance be?" she mumbled to herself. "Where can Voldemort be assured of privacy, of no one stumbling upon the Chamber? Where does no one ever…go..?"

She looked up at them, something that looked like hope gleaming in her eyes. "Albus, didn't you say that Moaning Myrtle was the first to die? In her bathroom?"

Albus nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Yes, she was. Do you believe the entrance could be there?"

Daphne shrugged. "It's as likely a place as any."

"Perhaps we should…" Minerva began, but Daphne was already out the door.

Daphne hurtled down the halls of Hogwarts, her gaze fixed straight ahead, trying to fight down the images of Harry's bloody and mangled body that made her nauseous to contemplate. She cursed her creative imagination, an imagination fed by years of bloody battles and horrific losses.

She was not going to lose Harry. She was not going to fail Lily.

She ignored the students looking around in confusion. They didn't matter now.

The Second Floor Corridor was empty and dark; it was not surprising that shade of Lord Voldemort that had possessed her son had attacked Hermione here only hours before. And if she was right, it was also because the entrance was located on this floor.

She walked up to the door to Moaning Myrtles' bathroom, but found it locked. There were footsteps behind her, and she glanced up to see that McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore had followed her, as she'd expected. She raised her wand, and cast a nonverbal Unlocking Charm. Nothing happened.

"What's wrong, Daphne?" Snape sneered. "Can't open the door?"

"It's locked with a spell, you bloody Death Eater," she snapped back. She aimed her wand again, and then focused a large part of her power on the lock of the door. She pushed with her magic, condensing it and forcing it into the keyhole. There was a crack of metal as the lock was destroyed, and the door swung open.

Daphne hurled it aside, almost taking out Minerva in her haste. The bathroom was as run-down and waterlogged as she remembered it. Moaning Myrtle herself was sitting atop one of the sinks, sobbing loudly.

"Myrtle?" Daphne asked.

The ghost looked up, and then smiled a bit. "Hello, Daphne," she said brightly. "It's nice to see you again." She giggled and drifted over towards her. "You used to cry in here a lot. It was nice having another miserable person in here. I enjoyed the company."

"I had just watched my family killed," Daphne said in a strained voice. She fought down the memories that Myrtle's reminisces threatened to bring upon her.

"And you're trying to find the only family you have, aren't you?" she asked. Daphne could feel the heat of her companions' gazes on her back. I don't have time for this…

"Yes, Myrtle," she said, in as polite a voice she could manage. The ghost was easily offended, and might burst into tears and flee at any moment. But she knew everything that happened in here.

"Oh…well, he walked in here with that redheaded girl," she said. She shivered. "He had red eyes…aren't they green normally?"

Daphne closed her own eyes and fought down the disturbing image and the nausea that accompanied it. The idea of Voldemort desecrating Harry's body, poisoning his mind…it was just too frightening to think about. Focus, she instructed herself, reverting to her Auror training. You have a goal. Accomplish it.

"Where did he go, Myrtle?" she said. She was surprised to hear the desperation in her voice, and even felt tears in her eyes. Then again, if she looked miserable, it might motivate Myrtle to aid a kindred soul.

"Down the pipe," she said, shivering again. "I've tried to tell people, you know, but he told me I couldn't. But something's wrong with him…and…well…he 's kind of cute…" the ghost whispered, trailing off. A silvery blush appeared on her cheeks.

Daphne heard a choking noise from behind her. That would be Snape, she thought in amusement, a welcome distraction from the panic that was building within her. I'm not sure I like the idea of a fifty-year old ghost fancying my son, but that's not important…

"Miss Myrtle?" Minerva's voice asked from behind her. "How did you…well…how did you die?"

Myrtle beamed at the question, something that somehow didn't surprise Daphne. "Ooooh, it was awful," she said gleefully. "I came in here because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses…then I heard a voice speaking something, in another language."

Parseltongue, Daphne thought. Likely spoken by a sixteen year-old Tom Riddle.

"…but what really got me was that it was a boy speaking…so I opened the stall door and told him to go away….then I saw these big, bulging, yellow eyes…and then…I died…" she said, shrugging as if she was talking about the weather. Well, she's had fifty years to get used to it.

"Where were the eyes?" Daphne asked. Myrtle looked thoughtful.

"They were over there, somewhere," she said finally. "The sinks were gone, I think, but I didn't see much."

That confirms it, then, Daphne thought. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in here, somewhere…

"Could you be any more helpful?" Snape asked sarcastically. His tone had the inevitable effect. Myrtle shrieked a cry and then plummeted into one of the toilets. Daphne turned around. Minerva was glaring at him.

"Severus, why..?"

"Forget it," Daphne interrupted, "she told us everything she knows. Start looking around for the entrance."

It was only a minute before Snape called over. "I may have found it."

Daphne walked over, and peered at the sink that Snape was examining. He pointed with his wand to the pipe that ran into the ground from the basin. Engraved on the brass pipe was a small snake. "I think you have."

"Doubtless, though, the password is in Parseltongue," Dumbledore said. Daphne looked over at him for the first time. His phoenix, Fawkes, was perched on his shoulder, crooning softly. Hanging from his belt was something that Daphne had only seen in history textbooks.

"I recommend you stand back, Daphne," he warned and she backed up to the wall.

Dumbledore raised his wand and Daphne could see his magic exploding around him as he released it into the air. His aura was almost blinding.

"Spriti Hogwartarum! Auferte id obstaculum. Ego dico cum voce meae abba. Tollite vos inimicos!"

There was a blinding flash. An enormous burst of crimson energy shot forth, enveloping the sinks. Daphne saw what appeared to be dark green apparitions of serpents writhing in the flood of power. The center of the magic glowed a brilliant gold, expanding rapidly through the entire field. There was a strange, inhuman scream, and the sinks were vaporized. The field collapsed, and Dumbledore staggered, breathing heavily. Minerva ran forward to support him, and he accepted her aid.

He turned to Daphne and Snape, who were staring at him in awe. “As I suspected, Salazar created defenses. If you had attempted to destroy the entrance, your magic would have been reflected and all of us would have been killed. I was able disable the defenses, because Salazar’s life was ended by my ancestors.”

“You’re a descendent of Godric Gryffindor,” Daphne stated simply. “You have the ability to fight Slytherin’s magic…and wield that sword.”

Dumbledore smiled. Daphne could see wisps of magic flowing from the very walls of Hogwarts back into his frail body. The wards are replenishing him, Daphne realized.

“Yes. The sword of Gryffindor is passed from each descendent of the line to the next. When I die, it will be passed to my brother, Aberforth. From there, it will likely be passed to his wife. He has no children, so it will go to his nephews…unless I choose otherwise.”

“Fine sentiments, Headmaster, but we may have two students dying at this very moment,” Snape interrupted. But there was still a tone of awe in his voice. Daphne had never seen the magic of a Light Sorcerer before. It was beautiful, intoxicating. No small wonder that the O’Connor line has been associated with the most powerful wizards of the age for centuries. Then the rest of Snape’s comment registered and panic welled up in Daphne’s gut once more.

She stepped towards the cavernous pipe that now occupied the center of the bathroom. Dumbledore put a hand on her shoulder. “You are not going alone, Daphne. I will accompany you.” He turned to Minerva and Snape. “You will wait.”

“I beg to differ, Headmaster,” Snape said angrily. “You are the only thing that stands between me and Azkaban. You are a fool to believe that I will risk that you may not return.”

Albus smiled. “I assure you, Severus, that I will. But in any case, I have taken steps to insure that you will never be punished for what you have done in the past.”

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical, Headmaster,” Snape mumbled, but stepped back.

“You know what to do, Minerva,” he said. The Deputy Headmistress nodded. “I will order the students to their dormitories, and inspect the defense…in case you do not succeed, we will be prepared for whatever happens.” Daphne thought she saw a tear in her eyes.

“We are facing a Basilisk, Daphne,” Dumbledore reminded her as she took another step towards the entrance.” She nodded without looking at him, and tore the sleeve of her robes. She wrapped it around her head tightly, using the strip of cloth as a makeshift blindfold. She didn’t need the use of her eyesight. Her inherited ability would allow her to sense her way around, and her other senses were sharp. She had developed them out of necessity; she couldn’t let a Blinding Hex incapacitate her in the heat of battle.

“What about you?” she asked. She pulled the blindfold down to see his response. He was smiling mysteriously. “Another fortunate advantage of my heritage. I am an eighth Demiguise, and thus immune to a Basilisk’s glare.”

“An eighth Demiguise…” Snape repeated disbelievingly.

“Yes. They do resembled humans, Severus,” Dumbledore reminded him. “But I shall tell you the full story later. We have wasted too much time already.” The look in the old man’s eyes was one that Daphne had seen once; on the final day of the Siege of Hogwarts, when the Headmaster had harnessed the power of the ancient wards of the castle to an extent that few had ever dreamed of. The casualties inflicted on the Dragon Masters had nearly driven them into extinction. Scores of Dementors had been quite literally wiped off the face of the earth…

Daphne snapped out of her memories, cursing her family’s attraction to powerful magic. “We must go,” she said firmly. Dumbledore nodded.

Daphne stepped to the edge of the pipe. Dumbledore waved his wand and a long ladder appeared against the near side of the pit. Daphne took a deep breath and began the descent into darkness.