The Snake-who-lived

"The same as last time, Lucius. But this time, Lord Voldemort acted through someone else… by the means of this diary."

Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter et la chambre des secrets, Page 354.

Epilogue

[Extract from Harry Potter's diary, June 1st 1993]

I think Hermione has lost it. Why do I say that? (Except for the obvious and usual reasons, written about half a dozen million times in the past pages) Well, we (Draco, Blaise and I, that is) caught her in the Library, studying her brain out of her skull. Apparently, she hadn't heard that the exams were cancelled, so we told her… and she was disappointed, of all things! I mean, it's like her greatest joy in the world is to study – apart from trying to convert us into bookworms.

Should have been a Ravenclaw, that girl.

[June 18th]

COMPLETELY MENTAL. We just got the confirmation letters for the class choices we had done back in Easter. Hermione's is twice as long as all of ours. After Blaise asked (read: snitched it from her hand) we saw why; she decided she didn't want to make the choice between the classes, so and took all of them at the same time; even Muggle Studies, never mind the little insignificant fact that she's Muggle Born.

And she won't listen to reason, either. Even after Draco told her Arithmancy is hard enough to give headaches to anyone without a brain the size of a car (Anatomically impossible, but in her case, it would explain quite a few things) and that Ancient Runes is almost only used by Explorers or historians (Indiana Granger? Now that's a strange idea). The rest of us all took Divination and Care of Magical Creatures; they sounded like the easiest. No need to complicate our lives.

I overheard some older Slytherins say that the Divination teacher is a hoax, so I might even get a laugh or two out of it. Blaise is actually looking forward to it. Hopefully, whoever it is won't pull a Lockhart on her…

Speaking – well, kinda – about Lockhart, there was a good one yesterday in the Daily Prophet… I'll quote the article here, it's just too good:

GILDEROY LOCKHART: FAMOUS FIGHTER OR FRAUDULENT FICTIONIST?

Interview by: Rita Skeeter

Most of us, when they hear the name of Gilderoy Lockhart, think of the adventurous man, that courageous fellow who finances his dangerous expeditions by publishing stories of his experiences fighting the dark side and dark creatures; from Vampires to Banshees. At the beginning of this interview, this reporter had the same opinion; Gilderoy Lockhart surely was a great man, worthy of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to our children at Hogwarts.

However, as the story, told by Mister Jean Deschamps unfolded, she started to doubt it.

Who is Mister Deschamps [Deh-shans]? A French reporter of respectable blood and reputation and a fan of Gilderoy Lockhart who decided to follow in his footsteps and get the afterword of those he has rescued. He is currently writing an article for the "Aube d'azure", the French daily, and has offered me the exclusivity of his interview in England. Quite understandably, I agreed. And here is the resume of his discovery...

Deschamps: [...]I set off from Lyon and headed for Bulgaria, where Lockhart said he had defeated the Vama Vampire. The wizarding section of the town was a small and quaint; I had expected the story to be the great story of the town, so I stayed as close to the main magical pub as I could, looking for a lead. Lockhart never revealed the name of his guide, nor what happened to Natasha.

Skeeter: And I'm sure you were quite looking forward to meeting her.

Deschamps, with a grin: Certainement, madame.

However, I was disappointed to learn that the story had apparently slipped out of everyone's mind. I don't blame them, though; it seemed most of the attention was turned to their national team's dilemma*, but there was nothing about Lockhart, anywhere. So, deciding that waiting was useless, I went and asked people.

(*As we all know, Koivu, the previous Bulgarian seeker, received a Bludger in the back during the last national match, and is now unfit to play for the next six years, while his spine heals at Str. Krankenhaus der Kobras für magische Verletzungen, the central magical hospital of Bulgaria. [Full story at page S5, "International seeker at seventeen? Bulgarians desperate, or genius on broom?"])

…nothing. There apparently had not been a Vampire anywhere in town, ever.

I thought that, perhaps, Lockhart had changed the name of the town to protect its citizens from a bad reputation, and that the fact that another town bore that name was just a coincidence. However, that left me without a lead.

Skeeter: So you gave up?

Deschamps: I did, and decided instead to head to the Himalayas, to search for the Tibetan monk temple where Lockhart said he had stayed. There had been enough descriptions of the area for me to locate it in the western parts of Xichuan, in what used to be eastern Tibet and is now a part of Muggle China that is heavily defended against Chinese wizards by their Indian counterparts. This time, my search was successful.

Skeeter: Really? And what did the monks say?

Deschamps: You misunderstand, madame. I did find the monks and hear that there used to be a Yeti terrorizing the region, but there was no word of monsieur Lockhart anywhere. They told me that none of them remembered how it had happened, but the yeti was killed, one day.

Naturellement, I found this strange. Why would they simply forget about everything? I decided to stay around for a few days, to see if anything would happen. The monks were welcoming, though were wary of magic – understandable, considering the magical situation in the region. However, I found something about them after the sixth day.

Skeeter: What was it?

[I must admit that, by then, I was quite interested in the story.]

Deschamps: I had brought along a… how do you call it? Ensorcelling detector…?

Skeeter: Charm detector?

Deschamps: Yes, exactly that, Merci!

Skeeter: So one of them was a wizard?

Deschamps: Oh, non. They were all Muggles, although they all knew of the magical world, if only through rumors and stories. However, they all bore signs of being under a spell. After some prodding, one of the Monks agreed to let me check it, and to my great surprise, I found it was a memory charm.

Skeeter: Isn't that the usual method for dealing with Muggles who see magic? They could—

Deschamps: That is the usual method here. In that area, however, they tend to prefer more… brutal methods, or simply not acting. Wizards tend to live as far from Muggles as they can and rarely ever go near them. Revealing yourself as a wizard in front of people around there is inviting trouble anyway. Someone had cast a memory charm on not just that monk, but on all of them. After some explaining – and an embarrassing misunderstanding – He agreed to allow me to remove the charm.

Skeeter: Isn't that extremely dangerous?

Deschamps: Yes, unless you know what you are doing. Charms were my specialty at Beaubatons. I was successful, and I learned exactly what had happened;

Lockhart had walked in the temple, asking for the story of who had killed the Yeti – turned out to be one of the head monks – listened to him while taking some notes, then obliviated him and the monks who had seen Lockhart.

Skeeter: No!

Deschamps: It doesn't stop there. I continued looking around to find the other places he claimed having done heroics, and the story was the same everywhere. Lockhart came in, attracted by the rumors and stories, then cast a memory charm on everyone who had seen him and went off to write.

Gilderoy Lockhart stole the stories of other people and pretended they were his, after wiping clean the original hero's memory – quite illegally in most cases, I assure you.

The rest of it is pretty boring, but the part I just quoted down for posterity is priceless. It explains quite a few things, actually. Xu and Ginny read the article for him – he's still in the infirmary; apparently, neither Flitwick, McGonagall, Pomfrey nor Dumbledore are able to dispel the belts (I think it's more a matter of will than anything else) – and told us he actually sobbed after hearing it. His edition house said they had no idea he was doing that and they are suing him. Actually, so do quite a few parents who read the article and feared his influence could have a negative effect on their children.

I just know Blaise's mum is among them. I just know it.

Well, that's about it. Gotta hurry now, train's leaving tomorrow and I want to be ready.

Next time I write in this, I'll be in third year – that is, assuming I survive the summer.

***

Harry Potter shut his diary, satisfied with what he had written. Stretching his back a bit, he gave a look at his dorm mates. Draco had already finished packing and was down in the common room. Crabbe and Goyle, though, were still busy, arguing about a uniform that both claimed was theirs.

Chuckling, he put the diary inside his trunk, along with the piece of newspaper with the article attached. Most of his own stuff was already packed, though his luggage was noticeably lighter than it had been at the start of the year; the Slytherins had generally agreed that some of the books had a better purpose than reading, and that it would be a waste to simply throw them away. The entire collection of Gilderoy Lockhart's books were now located in the common room, beside the fireplace, to be used during those cold winter nights. Harry was fairly sure Draco would be delighted, assuming being turned into a ferret hadn't turned him off of staying at Hogwarts during the holidays.

Looking around, he tried to find anything that was his – and that wouldn't object being stuffed in his trunk (Read: Except Nemesis and Hedwig). His invisibility cloak was carefully hidden from prying eyes at the bottom, carefully folded among his uniforms. All but one of said robes were there, along with his hat. His – useful – books had been packed the day before.

…except for one.

Carefully, making sure neither of the bigger boys saw him, Harry sneaked his hand under his pillow and pulled out the grey-paged book, the Lexicon, his teacher in dark magic, to whom he hadn't written anything in the last three weeks.

Whom? Book, Harry. Book. Not person. Book.

That made him remember; he did have something to ask it, didn't he? Perhaps the way he had acted, back in the chamber of secrets, had something to do with dark magic, and the lexicon might know something about it. And perhaps even the reason why he was still alive after taking the Basilisk's gaze directly.

Knowing the book's illusion powers would make it appear as something else, Harry opened the covers and switched to page 2, taking his quill with his other hand.

Hello, he wrote.

Welcome back, Harry Potter, it wrote back. You have not opened my pages in some time.

I'm sorry, I've been busy.

Apology accepted. Are there any reasons why you chose to open my pages?

Musing on how to write the next lines, Harry decided to jump head first into it. The Lexicon, as far as he knew, did not believe in beating around the bush.

In a few lines, he wrote what had bothered him: the odd impulses he had felt, including the one during the Quidditch match, which he now felt was related. When he was finished, the book stayed "silent" for a few seconds, before replying:

Interesting.

Nearly spluttering in indignation at the inadequate reply, Harry wrote without thinking:

That's all you have to say?

Oh, no, it wrote back. I merely find it – and you – an interesting case; you truly are unique, Harry Potter.

Shoving what he considered as useless banter aside, Harry scribbled,

What do you think is happening to me?

You claimed to have felt scar pains in the presence of Lord Voldemort, did you not? Not waiting for an answer, it continued, I believe you and he are connected, somehow. Using the magic he is so familiar with is, no doubt, opening a deeper channel between the two of you, allowing some of his… playful nature to seep through into you.

Harry almost shut the book right there. What did that mean? Was he turning into—

Have no fear, though. As long as you resist those impulses and stay in control of yourself, that should be as far as the connection will go. I highly doubt the Killing curse, even a foiled one, can cause one's soul to leech into another, or even allow a passable bridge between you two. You will not become another Voldemort unless you wish to do so.

Relieved, Harry nodded, knowing it saw him. He knew he would never want to, so he was all right.

This connection could also be the reason why you are a Parselmouth. Harry's opened wide in surprise after reading these words. That little tidbit had been bothering him all year long. It is possible that, while his soul cannot leech into yours, his powers did. The Killing curse is a very potent spell, and a lot of power is sent into it by the caster.

Is this why I could stand the Basilisk's stare?

…possibly, although you failed to inform me of that.

Harry blinked. He had never really needed to inform the book of anything going on in the castle. Hadn't it seen the battle? Had it been 'looking' somewhere else? He felt a pang of indignation at the thought that while he was risking his life, his mentor had been safely staring at the fishes in the lake.

"Still writing in that thing?" Draco's voice cut into his musings as the boy entered the dorm room. Startled, Harry shut the book with a loud noise. He noticed that, apparently, Crabbe and Goyle had ended their quarrel and were now gone. Had he been that interested in the Lexicon's words?

…the lexicon. He had just slammed it shut. Was it going to be mad at him?

'IT'S A BOOK!!' He forced himself to remember. 'It doesn't have feelings!'

'Riddle did.' Another part of his mind retorted.

'Riddle was someone in a book.' He retorted.

'Who says the Lexicon isn't?' And Harry didn't quite have a witty retort to that little answer.

"O~oi, Captain to Seeker, come in, Potter!" Draco interrupted his mental arguing – never a good sign, that – with a teasing drawl. "Back from your trip, I see."

"Bugger off." Harry retorted while putting the Lexicon down on his bedsheet. "Did Blaise send you to tell me to hurry?"

"You know she'd just barge her way in, boy's dorm or not." Draco replied negatively.

"Who, then?"

"Weaslette did, actually." The boy clarified. "Besides, I wanted to talk a bit."

Puzzled, Harry asked, "about what?"

"I wanted to talk about the diary."

Harry gave him a glare. "I'm not letting you read it."

"The other one, I mean. Riddle's."

The black-haired boy blinked in confusion. What did he mean? It was gone, wasn't it?

Seeing as Harry didn't understand, Draco continued, frowning: "I know I gave it back to you after our dorm was turned upside down. So how come Ginny had it?"

'He didn't give it back…' Harry, still confused, denied mentally, wondering exactly what—

Oh. Right. He had given the Lexicon back and thought it was the Diary of Tom Riddle. But Ginny had just stolen it, back then, so…

Oh…

…oh hell.

How in the world was he supposed to explain that?! 'Oh, you didn't really give me the diary; it was actually a talking book on dark magic that's been teaching me for a while.' Yeah, that would work.

Do pigs fly today?

…Hm… nope. Better not risk it then.

Harry dug into his mind, trying to find a reasonable explanation. Ginny had stolen it away later? No, he had barely seen her afterwards, except for when he had confronted her about it. Even in the hallways, she had been noticeably absent. One of Ginny's friends, then?

…a bit more likely, but how would they have known?

"I see you're not coming up with an explanation." Draco finally growled. "I want to know what's going on, Potter."

He knows

That's it. Screw an explanation and find something else to distract him… er… the weather would probably not work, and he couldn't find a way to orient the conversation toward Quidditch.

Blackmail

"Actually, I have a question for you," He found himself saying before he could think it over.  "Riddle said he had a servant helping him outside of Hogwarts."

"And?" Draco prompted, frowning.

"A servant who chased Dumbledore away, which is what Fudge and your father did." Harry continued, thinking about it as he spoke. "You won't let me go to your house and you don't want your dad to know I'm your friend."

"What are you saying?" Draco challenged him to finish his theory, his feelings hidden behind an emotionless mask.

"Is your father a servant of You-know-who?"

Harry didn't really need the answer; he had put the pieces of the ugly puzzle together as he had been speaking them. It was the most likely explanation. But then, why wasn't he in prison? Why did Fudge trust him?

Was this the reason why Mrs. Zabini had helped them learn how to duel?

Or perhaps Fudge was one, and Mr. Malfoy simply didn't like him…

No. Fudge had protested against putting Dumbledore away.

In front of him, Draco eyes were now glaring daggers at him and his face was paler than usual, but most of the rest of his surprise was hidden behind a cold, emotionless mask. Harry knew he was angry. No, make that furious. For a few seconds that seemed like minutes, neither of them spoke. One was waiting for an answer while the other was mulling it over, thinking of the best response.

"So that's your game, eh, Potter." The platinum-haired boy finally replied flatly. "Fine, here's the deal; you keep your secrets, I'll keep mine."

Harry nodded in agreement. His gamble had allowed him to escape revealing the Lexicon, but…

As he saw Draco angrily turn away and walk out, he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse. He had resorted to blackmail against a friend. Had it truly been a good idea? Would Draco have kept the lexicon a secret?

…well, what is done is done, he reflected as he opened his trunk to put away the grey-paged book.

Few minutes later, the dorm was empty. Hidden underneath Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, the Lexicon was silent, which was normal for a book. Had it been able to make sounds, however, one would have clearly heard a sinister chuckle and wondered where it came from.

So you can notice it, Harry Potter? You truly are… unique…

***

The Slytherin common room was, once again lively. People were talking loudly and walking about, smiling and giving the room a cheerful atmosphere. Summer vacations were about to start, after all. Some of the older Slytherins had even planned a party, but a fourth year Gryffindor had caught them sneaking food out of the kitchen and had warned McGonagall, who had been quick to put a stop to it. The faces of those who had been caught were the only ones who were even a bit sulky.

Everything was packed away and everyone was ready to leave on that morning, the last time the students would wake up at Hogwarts before going back home. Well, that is, almost everyone.

"Ginny, Xu found tranfigormation note-taking book!" The Chinese girl called out to the red-head who was running all over the Slytherin common room, trying to find everything that was hers.

"She let everyone borrow her things," Emma replied flatly to Blaise after she had asked. "Now she's looking for them."

Harry remembered the general attitude of the burrow, where pretty much everything in the house was a hand me down, and where borrowing and handing things to everyone was the rule more than the exception.

'Old habits die hard...' He mused, inwardly chuckling, while Ginny's voice called out for a pot of blue ink. Hopefully she would learn her lesson by next year…

***

The tall gray walls and sky-tearing towers of Hogwarts seemed to glow of a light of their own, standing proudly over the sheer cliff of sharp stones. The black lake shimmered with the brightness of the sun reflecting on its surface. The forbidden forest seemed almost passive, leaves and branches slowly swaying in the soft, cool breeze.

And suddenly a hill came in the way and Harry did not see his second home anymore.

The Hogwarts express was speeding on its rails, carrying a few hundred teenage witches and wizards to London and to their families. Harry, Hermione, Blaise and Ron had managed to find an empty compartment early in the boarding. Their things had long since been hauled and secured in the overhanging nets. Draco had went off with Crabbe and Goyle without saying goodbye.

The other boy had not spoken to him since the previous afternoon, but he didn't know if it was because of his actions of the previous day or if it was simply because he was getting into the role of "He-who-hates-the-boy-who-lived" that he wanted his father to believe.

He hoped it was the latter.

Taking his eyes away from the window, he looked at what his friends were doing. They had all taken off the uniforms and dressed in Muggle clothes as so they would not look suspicious in King's Cross station in the evening.

Hermione, sitting in front of him, was clad in a pair of blue jeans with a pink T-shirt and was reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for what was probably the millionth time.

Blaise, beside him and wearing a black shirt and shorts, had one hand in a bag of Every Flavor Beans and the other hovering above a nervous-looking white knight, who had every movement option blocked by either a white bishop, a rook or the queen.

As for Ron, who was sitting beside his housemate, what he was wearing could possibly pass for normal Muggle clothing, to a blind and retarded person, perhaps, and even then it had to be in total obscurity and at a distance. Harry had heard him complain to Hermione that a bright orange wool T-shirt with the Chudley Cannons logo and a green pair of sickly green pants were perfectly reasonable, and that no, it did not make him look like a Christmas tree, which, he defended arduously, were green and brown. She had given up after the fourth try.

"Queen to E-5, checkmate." He said as said piece moved, shattering the knight in the middle of a berating tirade toward Blaise, who looked both cross and relieved at having the offending piece destroyed.

"Five moves..." She whined, her face landing in her left hand. "You could have gone easy on me, you know."

Ron shook his head, smirking. "I don't think so."

"You normally wouldn't try your luck, Blaise." Hermione noted, looking up from what looked like the page on Hippogriffs.

"I'm in a good mood," The girl replied with a grin, pushing herself deeper in the plushy seat. "No school until September: no homework, no more Snape, no studies, no teachers, no more Snape, no worries, lots of fun... did I mention no more Snape?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"You should be more respectful, Blaise." Hermione chided. "I mean, I know Professor Snape isn't the most... er..."

"Clean?" Ron suggested.

"Fair?" Blaise offered.

"Agreeable person in the world," Hermione said forcefully, though she did not deny what her friends had said, "but you shouldn't really... er..."

"Forget it, 'mione." Blaise cut in, grinning. "No school, means not even thinking about the daft git, or any schoolwork."

"And we have summer homework." Hermione tried to put in, but the red-head ignored her.

"No school means no work. No work means a very happy Blaise. A very happy Blaise means..."

"A headache for everyone?" Ron offered teasingly.

"...means I'm not going to steal Hermione's book and bludgeon you with it for that one." The girl finished with a glare at the other red-head, who snickered.

An instant later, the door opened and Ginny and Emma looked in. Seeing who was there, both younger girls smiled hopefully.

"Did any of you see Xu?" The red-head girl asked. "We can't find her."

The soon-to-be third years looked at each other and, on a common accord, shook their heads.

"Not since yesterday," Harry replied. "Maybe she's in the back?"

"I guess she has to be." Emma sighed. "Come on, Ginny. Let's find her."

When they came back, about fifteen minutes later, however, they still hadn't found her. Harry just supposed she had found a compartment somewhere else, where the girls had forgot to look.

Ginny and Emma stayed with them until the train arrived at Kings cross station. After picking up their things, the six children left the train and tried to find their parents. Ron and Ginny easily found theirs, but only after Fred, George and Percy had done the same. The concentration of red-heads was a dead give-away. Hermione hugged them goodbye and left to the Muggle side of the station.

"Emmanuelle!" A shrill voice called out as an purple-clad aristocratic elderly woman made her way toward them, swinging a red purse in one hand and holding her violet witch hat on her head with the other, followed by two children who bore a barely noticeable resemblance to Harry and Ron. "There you are!"

"It's Emma, mom!!" The girl whined, though she accepted the bone-crushing hug from her surprisingly strong foster mother. Two minutes later, only Blaise and Harry were left of their group.

After the Zabinis had found them – Mr. Zabini looked in awe at the Hogwarts Express, as if a bit disbelieving that the train actually led his daughter and her friend to a magic school, no matter how many daily proofs of the existence of magic he had from his wife – the two children were led to the family's red Honda Accord.

Harry smiled, even though he was squeezed into the car and found Hedwig and Nemesis unhappily sharing his lap, as the streets of London lazily passed by at the pace of the car. Another year had ended at Hogwarts, and he knew that, come September, another would start. Fervently, he hoped that next year would be calmer, and that at least this time, he would not meet Voldemort again, in any of his shapes.

But for now, there was a summer to enjoy. And with the Zabinis, he was absolutely certain that he would have no choice at it. 

End of book 2: The chamber of secrets

Author's notes:

SPECIAL THANKS TO SYKOSHIPPO FOR THE HOSPITAL NAME ^_-

(Yeah, call me nitpicky, I absolutely wanted to put the hospital's name there, even though I could easily have written the scene without it… ^_-)

(I had wanted to put up your account address, but FF.net decided to be a bitch and cut a LOT more than just the address. Sorry 'bout that, Sykoshippo.)

I'VE FINALLY FINISHED IT!!

Gods… I hope I never see another letter in the rest of my life… *reads over* ACK!!! *dies*

Just kidding.

After all, since you're reading this, that means I've started to write book 3 ^_-

Hermione's pink T-shirt? Blame my friend Kim, who showed me pictures of Harry Potter 3. The idea stuck to my head.

About what the Lexicon said… well, as that last line of its says, it was frugal about the truth. I put up the Snape and Dumbledore talk in last chapter because I knew it would just be too confusing if I twist and hide yet ANOTHER truth… ^_-

I despise the finale. Way too rough, but hell… I can't seem to get it to work otherwise. Oh well, the start of book 3 is VERY nice, to compensate ^_-

This is a warning I put up in my group before already, but here goes:

I cannot make a mistake in book 3. While book 1 introduces the present of the wizarding world and book 2 the far past, book 3 adds in the mix the main area where I've added changes. Breaking canon or my fanon at this point will be extremely confusing. It's also my favorite book of the lot.

One thing is for sure, though; I will NOT make it as long as this one.

If I do that, shoot me.

Repeatedly, so I don't rise as a ghoul and kill you all later.

Or even worse, write in my death. ^_-

I swear. If I start and I'm dead, I'm never going to stop. At least 'till my hands fall off, that is.

…oi, why are all of you carrying guns with only *one* bullet?

Why are you lot all fighting to know which one will shoot me? X_x

ANSWERS TO THE BOOKS CLOSING IN FRONT OF THE REVIEWERS:

Anon E mouse Jr: Tell ya now, you'll love it.

Lunawolf: It was my pleasure, actually. Killing teletubbies is good for everyone's health.

RaistlinofMetallica: Pretty Sammy, Teletubbies and Doom in a dream done by someone in the Harry Potter universe. Damn I'm good ^_-. I didn't like that, actually… *shrug*

Ranchan17: Yes, I actually cracked up when you asked me how was progress for the next chapter and I was reading the Betaed version. *snigger*

Mirie: It could have, but it would have been one HECK of a LONG chapter. There's a very good reason for the Elmira-Snape relationship (*COUGH*Not romance, no f*gin way!!), but it's a secret. 'till somewhere in early book 3, that is. Ron and Draco arguing scenes are fun to write ^_-

Flummox: hehehe… that, is a secret. *snicker* Oh, I HAVE to draw that one… little Tom Riddle's diary with an indigestion, praying to the porcelain throne… lol! ^_^ Yes, tenchi. I just couldn't pass it up; blame it on the Mihoshi special I watched that week. O_o Elmira "Mousse" Zabini… the mistress of Hidden weapons… *shudders*

The Vampire Story Hunter: *blink* O~kay! Here we go, explanations:

First, on Voldemort's quote: I can easily imagine Voldemort saying that to get himself more followers and give a kick to their morals and fluffy bunnies. He's already lied in the past: Think of the werewolf cubs under Hagrid's bed. And Salazar Slytherin's quote? Where is that from? I don't remember reading any lines told from Slytherin himself, not even in book 5. Besides, the magic itself is not evil. The magic makes one more tuned to their dark side, but you can use it with good intentions. But remember what they say about the road to hell… ^_-

And in case you haven't noticed, I've made you a fave reviewer, simply 'cuz you tried to point out a mistake-that-wasn't-one and launched me in a debate. Thanks! ^.^

Natara: I said that Riddle studied from the book… draw your own conclusions, I'm not telling ^_-. Glad you liked the Lockhart thing, so did I. (in fact, I'm thinking of drawing a picture of Mrs. Zabini torturing Lockhart a bit… or at least what Harry pictured ^_-)

Risty: Too true. It's easy to bend someone into a pretzel shape… just remember to tie the legs up behind the head correctly with the ears and to dislocate both arms to pull them around to make the X part… ^_-

Devonny Rose: That… is a secret. Most of it, actually. Mrs. Zabini IS Blaise's mother, yes. However… well, as I mentioned, secrets.

Blackheart Syaoran: Ah, the good old days when I sent my friend from hell to hell with a rocket launcher… then Quake arrived and I did it in style… ^_- As for Dumbledore letting it slide, the worst is already made, so the only thing they could do is watch over him and make sure he doesn't go Medieval on everyone. Yes, that WAS pretty Sammy and a Teletubby… hence why I killed it. No, a Fudge/Malfoy VS Dumbldore/Elmira/Hagrid scene would simply have revealed too much. It happened, in the background. Maybe I'll put it up in a side story, after I've really released the information. (For that, Harry needs to be the one hearing it)

Sykoshippo: It's for a good reason… Teletubbies are evil, evil things. Well, I know it works on my older sister :P. Did I say expensive? *checks* Nope, I said she didn't wear the cheap ones. Just picture her in regular everyday clothes. Yes, the creator is never satisfied… guess that's because I aim a bit too high (just Barb LP's level…) ^_-. Aim for the moon, they say… *shrug* well, good. You'll like it, I'm sure ^_-.

Dragonsprincess: Yes, it was surprising! You're about the only one, there are two or three who came close, though. What happened between Snape and Elmira? Well… that's… not something I'll say right now. Bet I surprised you there, right? . . --right?

Jedi Buttercup: *shrug* Clichés can be good… but originality is better. Besides, the changes I do are necessary; I'm not the one in control here ^_-. Well, almost. (*goes back to planning*) And as for Harry being evil and dark-ish… well, rest assured, it'll end all right for our favorite Potter. He's (*gets mouth blocked*)

Hamish: Eek! *Scampers off*

Bookworm04: You'll love it, then ^_-. It's my fave too… used to be this one, but I'm kinda fed up with it by now… :P

Ides of March: Well, it just so happens that I'm NOT Chinese, and that's as good as I found… T_T. But I'll remember you, if I ever need Xu to speak Chinese again (And I probably will ^_-)

Trugeta: Well, I know now. Cut me some slack, I'm French/English/Wannabe Japanese. German and Chinese (read above) aren't languages I know T_T. And I'm glad you liked it, by the way.

RickW22: 'course I am. I'm not stopping now ^_-

Jeangab057: She is cool, isn't she? ^_-

Simply Myself: I cracked up when I wrote that; actually said "Oh, you are so clueless, Harry Potter," even though I'M the one who made him think that (kinda) and--…babbling. Er… Tom Riddle is kinda dead. If you mean Voldielocks… well, that's a secret. Glad you liked it once again ^_-

Serpent of Light: This is the last chapter… of book 2, I mean. *dances saying "Can't believe I wrote that!! ^_^"* (Yes, the little ^_^ was said, don't ask how) The Zabinis rock, eh? Prepare for a great dose of them early book 3, then ^_-