A/N So this update is a couple days late, but this time I have a legitimate reason for it. On Thursday when I'd usually update I was driving to a different state, and when I finally got settled the internet connection that I had was not enough to sustain connection to this site and I definitely didn't want to try to upload when I still couldn't get to my profile after ten minutes of loading. I've finally returned, and thankfully I have my wifi back. And while I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner, you could view this as a trial run as I might have to push my update schedule to every two weeks instead of one if my workload increases too much in the coming weeks.

As always, unbeta-ed, sorry if I miss any errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Supernatural, or anything belonging to J.K. Rowling or Eric Kripke, I'm just using the characters for fun. I receive no money off of this story. Don't sue me.

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Chapter 10: The Heir of Slytherin

When Harry got out of the hospital wing the next morning she looked around for Ron and Hermione, without success. Eventually she found herself standing in front of the wall where the message had been painted in blood. Then she remembered the vial she had stuffed in her pocket weeks ago. Harry pulled out the vial with the cotton swab inside, unstopping it and pulling out the swab. Harry looked to her left and right, then hurried to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. She stepped inside and waved a hand around the swab. A shimmering picture of a rooster appeared, reconstructed from the droplets of blood, and Harry's brow furrowed.

She turned and noticed the quiet bubbling sound coming from one of the stalls. Harry crept over, laying her hands on the old door. She pushed suddenly, surprising herself and Hermione and Ron, who had been sitting inside.

"So...what am I missing?" Harry put her hands down as Hermione tried to brush the powdered Bicorn horn off her shoulder, where it had lightly dusted her when Harry opened the door.

"So, remember when we thought about brewing the Polyjuice?" Harry nodded. "Well, we've chosen a home base." Harry blinked. What?

"What?"

"We'll brew it in here. We heard about Colin this morning, and we figure it should be started sooner than later. I have all the supplies, except for a couple things we need to steal from Snape's storage."

"Hermione Granger, steal from a teacher?" asked Ron. After getting over his astonishment, he frowned, thinking. "I don't know, especially if it's Snape. He could have us all expelled in an instant."

"Well I don't want to break the rules! But I don't want some monster running around the school attacking muggleborns. So, are you joining me or not, because I'll do it anyway." Hermione finished, her cheeks red and her eyes intense. Ron just nodded weakly and Harry grinned at her.

"Good to see I'm influencing you. I can steal the stuff, no problem. What we need to worry about is a plan once it's brewed."

"We go to the Slytherin dorms dressed up as students there, question Flint or some of the other older ones, seeing as Draco already told us how no one at his level knew anything, and the compulsion made sure he was telling the truth. Whatever we find, we'll use."

"It's weird when you call him 'Draco'," Ron complained.

"Well when I eventually turn him to our side, you can't go around calling him Malfoy the whole time or he might see something unbalanced in the relationship."

"Can we just get back to brewing?" Hermione asked.

"Alright." It was more of a plan than she'd had during her first hunt.

The next morning dawned, and no one could find Professor Lockhart. Apparently, while Harry was in the hospital, he had somehow lost all the bones in his arms and legs, and was in terrible agony from the pressure of the unsupported flesh, and the torture of skelegrow, No one could figure out what happened. Harry had been asleep in her hospital bed when they brought him in, with a witness to prove the time of the accident. Morons.

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A couple weeks passed, Lockhart recovered, the potion was happily bubbling in the stall next to Myrtle's, and Harry had just caught sight of a flyer on the Gryffindor common room post board. Duelling lessons. Along with the students response to the attacks, which involved the creation of a roaring black market trading protection amulets, spells, and the like, the teachers seemed to have come up with a solution as well.

Harry already had extensive practice in offensive and defensive magic, though not with a partner, but she figured it would be fun anyway. So, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down to the great hall at six o clock, ready to take their first lesson among the hordes of participants. Harry only slightly frowned when she saw that Lockhart was teaching the lesson. It was replaced by a maniacal grin when she saw Snape sweep in after him, his head ducked in annoyance. She could work with that.

She was a little apprehensive to be in front of her potions professor in a capacity that involved offensive spells when she had stolen ingredients from him days earlier. There was almost no way he could know it had been her, as she had used her invisibility cloak and he'd been busy with a rash of suspicious fevers in the Slytherin population stemming from a glowing box in the middle of the Slytherin common room. But the way he looked at her the following morning at breakfast told her he was almost entirely sure it had been her.

When Lockhart showed them an example with himself and Snape, Harry added a slight blasting spell to Snape's disarming one, and Lockhart flew off the dueling table, all the way across the hall, and out the door of the great hall, screaming several octaves higher than normal the whole time. Ron and Harry were bending over, clutching their stomachs laughing like many of those in the area, while Hermione was standing on her tiptoes.

"Do you think he's okay?"

"Who cares?" blurted Harry and Ron at the same time. Lockhart stumbled back into the hall, perfect golden curls mussed and frizzed, his robes turned slightly. He climbed up on the table again.

"Well, that was certainly a way to start it off. Of course, I only let Professor Snape disarm me for the sake of showing you what the spell looks like." Snape looked murderous, and perhaps Lockhart noticed, because his eyes widened a fraction and he looked back to the students and called across them in a hurried tone, "Alright, pairs. Let's get some practice in."

The trio tried to gravitate towards each other, but Snape split them up, pairing Hermione and Millicent Bullstrode, Ron and Seamus Finnegan, and Harry and Draco Malfoy. This would be fun. Harry bowed mockingly at Draco, who returned the favor. They raised their wands, and Lockhart counted down from three for everyone. Draco started on two, and Harry could barely think "Slytherin," before she was diving away from a leg-locking curse. She fired a stickfast hex back at him. He didn't have any tie to block it, and got hit full on, sticking his shoes to the ground. Harry waved her wand (hand) and shot a tickling spell at him, and Draco started laughing and crying at the same time, unseen hands tickling him all over. It was torture.

Harry looked around the room at the other pairs. Ron and Seamus were both ashen-faced somehow. Hermione was struggling as Millicent Bullstrode had her in a headlock, both of their wands lying forgotten on the floor. Snape watched in amusement while Lockhart stared, frazzled.

"Stop! Stop, stop everything. Perhaps I better teach you how to block unfriendly spells." He laughed sheepishly. Then, displaying the brilliant smile, he called Harry up to the stage, and Snape chose Draco. Harry sent him a look.

"Disarming only," warned Lockhart. He bent down and tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Here, Harry, this spell will help you." He then wriggled his wand in a complex motion before it shot sparks out of the end and he dropped it with a yelp. Gently picking it back up, as though it might bite him, he patted her on the back. "Just do what I did."

"What, drop your wand?" Lockhart walked away and Harry rolled her eyes at his back. She saw Snape whisper something in Draco's ear, causing him to grin.

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish." Lockhart started the countdown, and again Draco started early.

"Serpensortia!"

"Expelliarmus!" A great snake shot out of the end of Draco's wand, and started slithering forwards. Harry walked calmly towards it, intending to vanish it, or pick it up.

"Allow me, Potter," Snape drawled, pointing his wand at the great python. Of course, Lockhart had to go and screw it all up.

"No, no, I've got it. Alarte ascendare!" He waved his wand flamboyantly, and the snake was pulled into the air, and dropped down on the mat with a hard thud. Was he purposely trying to make everything worse? It hissed, opening its maw menacingly, but Harry knew it couldn't really endanger anyone as it was a constrictor and not venomous. The other students, however, did not, and they started backing away, causing a panic. Harry rolled her eyes and waved her wand, not really using it, and muttered "Arretica!" A corded black net flew from her and wrapped around the threatening snake. She walked over, picked it up, and brought it to Snape. He was almost visibly uncomfortable, despite the mask he usually wore, and that made Harry happy.

It was with genuine pleasure that she forced the writhing ball of fury into her professor's arms without giving him a chance to get ready for it, and it tried to curl around his neck. Snape grabbed his wand and hurriedly vanished it. Draco quietly snickered.

"Well, that definitely disarmed me. Thanks for the course, Professors, but I'm not sure it was exactly productive. Eventful, but not...helpful?" Harry strode out of the great hall, and was soon followed by the students who knew the lesson wasn't going to be teaching them anything more. Some of Lockhart's lovestruck fangirls stayed behind, thankfully not including Hermione.

"What was that? You just picked it up!" Ron yelled in her ear. They walked down the halls to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to check the potion.

"There's something I should tell you guys." They found themselves locked in the bathroom, Ron and Hermione sitting cross legged in front of Harry, whose elbows were propped on her knees, her fists resting on her jaw. She looked at the both of them, trying to decide if she should give up more of her trust and divulge one of her secrets.

"So, something you should probably know, us being friends and all. I need you not to freak out, ok? Looking at you Ron." Ron looked mildly offended, but nodded.

"I'm a Parselmouth." All hell broke loose. While, admittedly, it took a while to calm her friends, Harry was proud to say that they did not freak out entirely. Not entirely.

"WHAT!"

"Bloody Hell," Ron gripped the stall door behind him.

"Oh, calm down, it's not like I'm evil!" Harry complained. She had to stand five minutes of confused ranting before they became intelligible again.

"But that's basically what being a Parselmouth means, Harry! That's why Salazar Slytherin's house animal is a snake! He could speak to them!" Argued Hermione.

"And we all know he's the evilest of the lot. Trying to kill muggleborns with his bloody monster stalking the students," Ron added. They stared at her, side by side like disappointed parents.

"Okay, we don't specifically know that Slytherin was evil-Don't go off on me, let me explain!" She shouted, seeing the looks of indignity and Hermione's 'you're completely wrong and let me tell you why' pose. "He didn't want to include muggleborns, right? Well that was probably a rational way of thinking! Think about it, a thousand years ago witches were being burned by muggles because of their magic. Slytherin probably didn't trust anyone who came from muggle birth. Now, purging them from the school with a giant monster only he can control, that's a bit much, and the logic he worked with doesn't come into play today, but back then he had a legitimate reason, even if he was a little crazy. Think 'misguided' instead of 'monstrously out of line'." Hermione looked to be thinking it over, biting her lip, her head ducked. Ron kept opening his mouth and holding up a finger, only to shut it and look away, figuring out whatever went wrong with his argument.

"He's still a git."

"So, now that we've figured out that I'm not crazy, can we go back to the common room? The potion is almost ready and we need to have a definitive idea about what to do." The three of them left the bathroom, saying goodbye to Myrtle, who had been slightly more manageable since they started talking to her. Well, since Harry started talking to her.

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More students went home for Christmas than in Harry's first year. With the grounds emptier than she had ever seen them, it was relatively easy to find two troublemakers. Without the usual crowd in the hallways to mask their mischief, Harry easily spotted Fred and George about to release a dungbomb in front of the entrance to the Great Hall. Before they could go through with it, Harry grabbed their arms and pulled them into the empty space behind one of the larger tapestries in the hall. The Weasley twins looked around and then down at her.

"What was that for?"

"Are you going to sacrifice us-

"Oh mighty Heir of Slytherin?" Harry raised an eyebrow at the pair, before shaking her heads and silencing them.

"No. I know that you're planning something to sacrifice for Loki during Yule," she revealed.

"How-"

"No, we're not-"

"What a preposterous idea."

"Yes, you are, and I'm not going to tell anyone, don't worry about that. I just wanted to let you know that chocolate will work as a much better sacrifice than blood or dead little baby rabbits, or whatever you're using now."

"We are NOT using-"

"'Dead little baby rabbits' you horrible-"

"Terrible-"

"Sadistic witch. We're using grown up rabbits." George smacked Fred upside the head at that confession, followed by Fred's revenge of slap. The two began smacking each other anywhere they could reach, in serious danger of revealing their positions from the racket they were making. Harry reached out and grabbed both their ears.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Ow, ok, stop!"

"Now that you're done squabbling, I'll leave. Just remember, chocolate."

"How would you-"

"Even know about that?" They questioned, and Harry paused her movements. She smiled over her shoulder.

"Don't you know, I'm the terrible, horrible Heir of Slytherin." She slipped out from the alcove, heading to lunch while the twins pondered her words.

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Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a nice Christmas, having snowball fights and drinking smuggled hot chocolate from the kitchens (Harry still wouldn't tell them where it was). As Christmas Day dawned, Hermione had them all out of bed and in the common room to open presents early, as her family had instilled in her a freakish habit of waking up at 6 am on Christmas. Harry was pleased with the bound pile of notes on Parselmagic from Hermione, and the Quidditch book from Ron. She tried to nibble on some treacle fudge from Hagrid after pulling on her new Weasley sweater, but the treat proved too tough to eat. Harry smirked as Hermione admonished her for presenting her with a book on mischief and pick-pocketing, especially when she insisted that this way Hermione could steal the ingredients next time. Ron just smiled at the basket full of chocolate frogs.

That night that the polyjuice was finally ready, and Harry stared at the sluggishly bubbling mixture as Hermione added the last ingredients before the hairs. Harry remembered appearing in Snape's office, nicking the ingredients, then popping back out. It was strange, because she could have sworn that Hermione mentioned there were anti-disapparition wards in place. If there were, they weren't affecting Harry.

Harry grabbed the glass that Hermione gave her. She added Goyle's hair to it, as there weren't a lot of options on who to become. Crabbe and Goyle were knocked out in a broom cupboard, snuggling each other as Harry had positioned them. She couldn't wait to hear the rumors after they were found.

The three of them looked down into their glasses, swallowing nervously. With one last glance at each other, the trio found separate stalls and took their potion. The first thing Harry registered was an uncomfortable tingling sensation. Then the tingling turned to pain as her skin was stretched to cover a body that was not her own. She shot upwards, her hair retracting back into her skull. She felt pain below her waist where her skin stretched out. Luckily, she'd had the common sense to change into the Slytherin robes beforehand. When the feeling of being turned inside out then stretched, then turned back the right way stopped all at once. Harry looked at her hands, braced against the stall door, and saw meaty fists. She gently unlocked the door, walking to the mirror to see Gregory Goyle looking back at her. Weird.

Harry turned as the other stall unlocked, and Crabbe walked out with Ron's posture, a shocked look on his face. "Harry?"

"Yah." Ron looked her up and down, a weird look on his face.

"That's too strange," he worked out, motioning towards her.

"Yah, this is weird." Harry adjusted her robes and felt something brush against her thigh. Eyes, widening in realisation, Harry yelled. "HOLY SHIT! I have a dick!"

"You have Goyle's dick!" Ron yelled!

"That's wrong. Don't- Just stop." Harry scrunched up her nose. "Wait, do you think people could just use polyjuice to find out what other people look like naked, and then publish photos of them? Or what if you really wanted to look like someone so you just constantly took polyjuice? How many conmen are in the wizarding world, with such an easy way to steal identities?" Harry was ready to go on, but Hermione's voice from the stall stopped her.

"There are laws against that, Harry! The unlicensed making and taking of polyjuice potion is almost as illegal as the Unforgivables!"

"Well shit."

"And if you took polyjuice constantly, you'd develop a resistance to it, like any other drug. And you'd probably develop some liver problems as well."

"How'd you know that, Hermione?" Ron wondered.

"It's clearly stated in the section titled 'Warning, Side Effects' in Most Potente Potions? Honestly Ronald, don't you read."

Harry rolled her eyes, stalking up to the stall where Hermione had changed. She raised a club of a hand and pounded on the door.

"Quit arguing. Hermione, let's go, we only have an hour!" She yelled.

"I'm not going," she squeaked from inside the cubicle, all confidence lost. Harry traded a look with Ron, their eyebrows arched.

"Why not?" Ron ventured.

"Because. I'll talk with you later, but you better hurry up, it's already been a couple minutes." Harry shrugged, and Ron followed her out of the bathroom. She trotted down some stairs, ducking around corners to avoid any wandering students or teachers, stopping in an alcove close to where she had hidden to find the Slytherin entrance a week ago after following some Slytherins in her invisibility cloak. Harry grabbed the scruff of Ron's robes when he almost walked by her completely, jerking him out of the hallway and into the alcove.

"Bloody-" Harry clamped her hand over Ron's mouth, and he turned his eyes to her, struggling.

"Shhh!" she waved to the hallway and they watched as Percy Weasley strutted down the corridor. Ron pursed his lips but didn't say anything. They snuck out of the hiding spot, and stood in front of the wall.

"What's the password?" Ron asked, scratching his head.

"Something bigoted, wouldn't you think?"

"You have no idea how strange it is to see Goyle thinking." Harry smiled. She thought about possible passwords, but before she could try one, a pale haired figure appeared at the end of the hall.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Been pigging out in the great hall all this time?" Draco shook his head and approached them. "What's the new password again?" Harry gave a Goyle-esque grunt, and Draco rolled his eyes again. "Never mind. Pureblood," he stated to the wall. The bricks folded in on themselves, and they entered the Slytherin common room.

It was a long, low room, green light filtering in from the lake, which could be seen through the enormous glass wall at the end of the room. A fireplace burned, and there were sofas and chairs everywhere, but they were more ornate than the Gryffindor common room. Rather than giving the air of comfort, it felt cold and like you were being judged. Harry immediately disliked it.

Draco led them to a couple of silver couches, sitting on the one across from them. Harry and Ron plunked down with an oomph, and stared at Draco. He started rambling.

"Stupid Dumbledore. He's the worst thing that's happened to this school."

"I'm actually going to have to agree with you on that," blurted Harry. She looked around, trying to spot some upper years. They needed to be talking to someone else, not Draco.

"You're absolutely right, Goyle. Wait, you're right?" He turned his mouth down in a 'huh' expression. Harry looked up, a look of innocence on her face.

"Thank you, it's not often that I feel like expressing the inner soliloquy that is my mind. Oh, to be stifled by the stereotype of grunt like behavior to those who are stronger than others." Draco's eyes widened.

"What-" He squinted suspiciously. "What happened to you?"

"Well see, I'm not actually Goyle. He's locked in a closet upstairs with Crabbe. I usually take the form of the person who's eventually going to turn you to the dark side." Draco backed up a step, his jaw falling open. He looked about ready to yell. "Crabbe is Ron, by the way. We're here on a secret mission!" Harry enthused.

"POT-" Harry clicked her fingers and his lips moved differently. "-tions are swell. Golly gee, don't you guys love Snape's class? He's a big ball of sunshine that one."

"Apparently you aren't ready to give in to the darkness just yet." Harry looked at him, ignoring Ron who had face-palmed beside her. "So I'm pretty sure some of these upper years have info that you don't. I know, I know, Malfoy not knowing information when he has his Daddy to ask? Crazy. But on the off chance that I'm right, I'm going to need you to point me to the children of the more influential Death Eaters, well supposed former Death Eaters. Preferably 5th year and above. Actually, no, don't point. That's rude. Just nod."

Ron stared at her, mouth straight. "Harry."

"Hurry up then, there's a good boy." Malfoy nodded towards a closed off group of teenagers taking around a table near one of the fires. "Thanks. Oh, and you would do well not to mention this to anyone. I don't think they would believe you, but just in case. It would make me your punishment from the Quidditch Pitch Disaster will happen tonight." Harry smiled and hopped up, cancelling the silencing ward on him and the area around them.

Ron shook his head. "Every bloody time."

They walked away from a baffled Draco Malfoy. Harry sat on a cushy green armchair, and Ron plopped down in the silver twin. Marcus Flint and his gang were right behind them, jabbering away. They talked about Quidditch for some minutes, and Harry was about to risk asking a question, when one of them brought up the topic.

"What's the count on Mudbloods?" came a wheezy voice.

"Only that Creevey creep. But I hope whoever it is starts the real fun soon." Marcus Flint's voice was easily recognizable.

"So you don't know anything about it Marcus?"

"I don't know who's doing it this time, but I do know the Chamber's been opened before. Fifty years ago there were attacks like this, and they ended with a Mudblood dead on the bathroom floor." Harry could see the vicious smile on his face.

"We should start a poll, whichever Mudblood is your 'Favorite to Die'." came a new voice, one that Harry identified as Pucey.

"I'd vote for that idiot Copper. Or, what's her name? The one Malfoy's always complaining about? Granger! She's a right pain in the arse." Harry clenched her hands. She looked over to Ron to see him red in the face. Even his hair was turning-Oh no." Harry jumped up and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the entrance to the common room. As soon as they got out, they ran all the way to the girls bathroom. Harry was tripping over Goyle sized robes by the time they got back, and she had to shake back a hanging sleeve to pound on Hermione's stall door.

"Hermione! We're back, but we still don't know who it is. Although, now we know about someone being killed last time and the body being in the bathroom. That'll give us somewhere to start with the list of deaths at Hogwarts. At least we won't have to filter through the list of those downed by the staircases." She looked up at a giggle to see Myrtle peering over the edge of the next stall.

"Ooh, it's dreadful." She tried to force back another giggle, and just slumped down into her toilet with a splash.

"Hermione, open up." The door cracked open, and Harry saw golden eyes before her jaw dropped. Hermione was staring at her. Only it wasn't Hermione's face. Hermione, with cat hair sprouting everywhere visible, had her head ducked.

"It was cat hair on Millicent Bullstrode's robes. The potion isn't supposed to work with cat hair!" Hermione worried.

"You've got a tail!" burst out Ron, completely unhelpfully.

"I'm going to have to go to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey will need to know what I've done! I'm going to get expelled! I can't get expelled, Harry, I can't-"

"Hermione, calm down. It will be okay." Harry put her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "You don't have to go yet, I might be able to fix this."

"Harry, I've been trying to fix it for an hour! Nothing works! What if Madam Pomfrey can't fix it? The book did say not to attempt it for very good reason. What if I stay like this forever?!" She was hyperventilating, and Harry had her sit down, her back against the stall.

"I might be able to help, let me just try."

"What spell could you know that could possibly fix this?" she bemoaned miserably.

"I might have some competition for the 'Moaning' title," piped up a voice from the next stall.

"Not helping, Myrtle!" Harry took out her wand for appearance sake, and held it before her.

"What's the spell, Harry?" Hermione whispered.

"I've always felt that magic is more about intent," she replied, waving her hand softly in a small circle and willing Hermione back to normal. A blue haze surrounded Hermione, blinding everyone there. The light diminished, and Hermione was sitting there, good as new, with no cat hair.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. Harry gave him a look.

"Harry," Hermione got out, "How did you do that?" Harry made herself look surprised and inquisitive.

"I'm not sure." It was partly true. She knew that having a couple years of independent study, and a different philosophy about how to use magic would affect her, make her stronger. But that should have been impossible. Something to think about later, she told herself.

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Later that night, Draco Malfoy finally gathered the courage to retreat to his common room alone, hiding himself under the security of his bed covers. After an hour of restlessness caused by the threat of revenge, the blond managed to relax to the point where he was just falling into a deep sleep when hissing sounds started from the edge of the room. He bolted upright, looking around in terror. When nothing moved in his peripheral vision, Malfoy almost settled back down, but a shadow coming from the corner of the room made itself known. The hissing started again and he backed against his bed board, reaching for his wand.

Writhing snakes slithered across the floor, hissing together as they cornered Malfoy in his bed. The boy started shooting off hurried spells, but none hit the serpents. The boy screamed as one of them wrapped itself around his neck and squeezed, black spots appearing at the edges of his eyes. Terror overtook him as he grasped at the snake with his nails, to no avail. Just as he was going to pass out, the snacks vanished, nothing left to prove that they were real but the red marks slowly turning purple around the blond boy's neck.

The next morning, Harry smirked into her goblet when the boy showed up with a scarf and a scared expression, his eyes darting quickly over to her and freezing when she smiled at him.

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The holidays came to a close, and Harry was once again being avoided by a large majority of the school. It was mostly people who didn't know her, who thought her behavior with the snake at the dueling club was suspicious. Harry didn't mind. What she did mind was when people talked like they knew exactly who she was and how she was rotten to the core, obviously, when they had never even spoken to her.

People like Ernie Macmillan.

She was in the library, when she heard him conversing with some other Hufflepuffs. They were bent low, talking in carrying whispers.

"She's bad news. Justin says that the snake was eyeing him, at the club, and she just picked it up and started cuddling it. It didn't even try to attack her!"

"But Ernie," came the voice of Hannah Abbott, "She's Harry Potter! There's no way she's a dark witch."

"Except that might prove it all the more! No one knows what happened the night You-Know-Who was defeated. She probably used dark magic or something. I'm telling you, something's not right. No one just picks up a snake like that, she didn't even worry about it biting her!"

"Or, maybe I was smart enough to notice that it was a constrictor, and not venomous." Four sets of startled eyes turned to her. "I'm not a dark witch. I literally fought Voldemort last year, and saved all your arses from being his first victims, as he was inside the school. You don't know me, you aren't my friend, you have no clue what's going on, so stop spreading rumors about stuff you don't understand. Don't pretend to know who I am, it won't work out for you." She spun on her heels, ignoring the terrified looks they were sending her. She stormed out of the library and stomped down the hall. She almost ran into Hagrid, and managed to have a somewhat polite conversation with him, but had to leave before she could take out her anger on him. Blind in her rage, she stumbled on something and fell over. Unfortunately, when she got up to see what she had tripped on, Justin Finch-Fletchley's frozen face stared back at her. Along with the floating image of Sir Nicholas. Harry backed away, disturbed by the image and thinking about how she did not want to be caught here, not after that conversation. She was turning away to leave, when Peeves came spiraling down the corridor.

"What's this? It's wee Potty. And look! She's got a couple more victims."

"Peeves I am not in the mood. I didn't do this." She made the mistake of swiping at him to go away.

"HELP! ATTACK! ATTACK IN THE CORRIDOR! NO ONE IS SAFE, ALIVE OR DEAD!" Harry was seriously beginning to doubt her reasons for not exorcising Peeves. A great rumbling of feet pounded down the halls, and stopped around the scene. Ernie Macmillan strode forward with a smug look on his face.

"Caught in the act!"

"You can't possibly think that I had time to do this!" Harry yelled, spinning around. "I walked out of there sixty seconds ago, there is no way that I could have caused this attack. Think with your brain, Macmillan, not your ego!" Harry spat out. Ernie took a step forward, nose to nose with her now, seemingly drawing on some nervous courage.

"You could have used the monster, you're Slytherin's heir!" he fumbled.

"Trust me," she whispered to him, "If I wanted to hurt someone, I wouldn't need a monster." A dark promise lingered in her words, unheard by anyone but Ernie. Professor McGonagall came hurrying down the stairs to the crowd formed around the victims. She took one look at them and Harry, and her mouth set in a grim line.

"Potter, come with me." She swept around, and Harry sent one last withering glare at Ernie before she followed.

"Professor," she called, trying to keep up with McGonagall's hurried stride. "I haven't done anything! Surely you can't believe that I hurt those people, Nick is my friend!"

"I'm sorry Potter, this is out of my hands." Harry's expression darkened when she understood just whose hands it was in. McGonagall stopped in front of a large gargoyle. "Sherbert Lemon." The statue moved and a spiraling staircase emerged from the ground, twisting all the way up to a door with an ornate knocker. McGonagall motioned Harry inside, then left. Harry walked forward, giving off an air of nervousness and tentatively as she examined Dumbledore's study. A great phoenix stood on a perch, its eyes tired and woeful. She walked up to the decrepit bird, and was reaching out a hand to pet it, when it burst into flames.

She jumped back in momentary alarm, when she remembered what she had read about phoenixes. Dumbledore entered, and she looked up.

"Sir, I'm sorry… Your bird just-" she began in a frazzled tone.

"Fawkes is a phoenix Harry. They grow old, and wither, and die, but then are reborn again, from the ashes." He motioned a hand towards the perch, and Harry made out an ugly, wrinkling bird poking its head out of the blackened ash pile. It gave a newborn squawk, and Harry felt a tug at her lips.

"Phoenixes are special birds. Their tears have magical healing powers, they can carry many times their weight, and they are extremely loyal." His eyes twinkled, and Harry found herself wondering if he had some kind of condition. She was distracted from her musings by the loud stomping of feet and subsequently when the door to the study was thrown open in a loud crash. Hagrid came storming in, a dead chicken in one hand, looking frantic.

"It wasn't Harry, sir, I was just talking' to 'er-"

"Hagrid."

"She wouldn't'a had time fer any of it-"

Hagrid!" The man fell silent.

"Sir, I didn't hurt those people," she stated, wanting to put in her two cents.

"I believe you, Harry. I asked you here for another reason." Hagrid sighed in relief, thanking Dumbledore and retreating awkwardly from the office. Harry almost sighed, for a different reason. Mysterious and closed off. She internally rolled her eyes as she forced out the confused question.

"What, Sir?" Dumbledore placed his hands delicately in front of him as he sat down at the desk.

"I must ask Harry, is there anything you would like to tell me? Anything at all?" She felt the slightest pull at her occlumency barriers, and almost shot up in outrage. How dare he, the filthy, sneaky, snake in lion's fur. Not that she could really talk, considering the last bit, but honestly, breaking into a student's mind? Despicable.

Harry forced images of breaking into the Slytherin's common room. They were slightly altered according to her imagination, where they hid under the invisibility cloak trying to catch any news about the chamber. "No, sir."

Dumbledore looked appraisingly at her over his half-moon spectacles. Seriously, how did those help at all? Was it all for looks? Harry shook herself from her thoughts to hear a dismissal, and she took it quickly.

.

.

Almost a month later, Harry was walking down the hall with Ron when she noticed that the scene of the Chamber of Secrets message had a flooded floor. She pulled Ron along with her into Myrtle's bathroom, where they found the ghost sobbing in her toilet.

"Myrtle? What's wrong, is everything alright?" She looked up tearily, sniffing her nose.

"Come to throw something else at me?"

"Why would I throw something at you?" Myrtle narrowed her eyes.

"I don't know. I was just sitting in the u-bend, thinking about death when a book fell through my head." She waved over to the sinks, and Harry bent down to pick up a wet black book, seemingly a diary judging by the paper type and feel of the book.

"But, if someone threw something at you, it wouldn't hurt you. I mean, you're a ghost, wouldn't it just fall through?" Ron questioned, his hand scratching his head. Harry swiveled around to stare at him, then pushed him out of the bathroom as Myrtle was going off on him.

"We'll see you later Myrtle, sorry." She dragged him out of the lavatories, and smacked him on the back of the head.

"OW! What the bloody -"

"Ronald Weasley, just because the people who really know you understand that you can be an insensitive clotpole at times does not mean that everyone else knows that you can't help some of the rubbish that comes out of your mouth. Keep a filter on it, please." He grumbled an apology, rubbing the back of his head as they tried to catch a staircase before it moved too far.

Harry climbed the stairs to the girls dormitory, leaving Ron with Hermiome in the common room. She sat down on her bed, and drew the curtains. Harry took a deep breath and turned the diary over, exposing the name Tom Marvolo Riddle. Harry was very familiar with that name, thanks to the goblins. She paged through the journal, noting the fact that all the pages were blank, yet they were yellowed with age. She rubbed a thumb over the page, willing it to reveal any secrets. Something flashed for a moment, but the ink faded before she could examine it more thoroughly. Harry gently placed the book on her bed, flipped open and exposed blank pages to the confines of her curtained bed. A dark aura pooled off of the journal, itching at her, causing her to be in a constant state of discomfort.

Harry had a thought, and rummaged in her bedside drawer for a quill and ink. She came up with a regular muggle ballpoint pen. She clicked it open and placed the tip on the pages, trying to think about what to write. A drop of ink sat under the tip of the pen where it made contact with the paper, and Harry watched as it faded into the parchment. Intrigued, Harry smirked and wrote.

In my experience, books aren't usually chucked down toilets.

She waited for a moment, her breath hitching when a flash of black traced words onto the page.

That was a rather unfortunate misunderstanding. It was never my intention to end up washed up on the floor, soaking in sewage water.

Harry smirked at the page. Her hypothesis was correct. Unfortunately, that also meant that the book probably did belong to teenage Voldy and that wasn't a coincidence, considering the Chamber and all. She needed to play dumb, figure out how this book was controlling whatever monster it was, and who threw it out.

My name's Harry.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry, my name is Tom Riddle.

.

.

KaylaBears18: Sorry, I'm probably going to pair Harry with someone from the Supernatural universe. I just can't see her with any of the characters in the Wizarding World permanently, but there will be some dating in both worlds. I'm not gonna give more hints than that though, because spoilers.

Rhyn3: Once again, Spoilers.

Guest: Twins have been told, summoning remains to be seen.

Meep: Usually I try to update every week on Thursday, but I might have to change that to every two weeks on Thursday depending on how I can cope with my upcoming workload.

Guest: I have a basic idea about how to handle the sword bit, but thanks for the reminder.