#cassawholock

He was gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The Basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Shaking all over, Harry pulled himself up. His head was spinning as though he'd just travelled miles by Floo powder. Slowly he gathered together his wand and the Sorting Hat, and, with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the Basilisk's mouth.

From the other end of the Chamber he heard a moan as Black struggled to stand. Harry walked over to help his professor to his feet.

'Well done, Mr Potter,' Black said clearly still in pain after his bout of torture. A little way away Ginny also began to stir. Leaving Black to lean against the giant statue Harry rushed over to her. Her bemused eyes travelled from the huge form of the dead Basilisk, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering two and tears began to pour down her face.

'Harry - oh, Harry - I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy. It was me, Harry - but I - I s-swear I d-didn't mean to - R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - how did you kill that - that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary -'

'It's all right,' said Harry, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the fang hole, 'Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the Basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here -'

'I'm going to be expelled!' Ginny wept, as Harry helped her awkwardly to her feet.

'I think not, Miss Weasley,' said Black, hobbling over. 'Trust me when I say that Tom Riddle has gotten far more powerful sorcerers than yourself to do his bidding against their will. You are a victim in all of this.'

Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Harry urged Ginny forward; they stepped over the motionless coils of the dead Basilisk, through the echoing gloom and back into the tunnel. Harry heard the stone doors choose behind them with a soft hiss.

After a few minutes progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sounds of slowly shifting rock reached Harry's ears.

'Ron!' Harry yelled, speeding up. 'Ginny's OK! We've got her!'

He heard Ron give a strangled cheer and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through a sizeable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.

'Ginny!' Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rich to pull her through first. 'You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?'

He tried to hug her but Ginny held him off, sobbing.

'But you're okay, Ginny,' said Ron, beaming at her. 'It's over now, it's - where did that bird come from?'

Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny.

'He's Dumbledore's,' said Harry, squeezing through himself.

'And how come you've got a sword?' said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry's hand.

'I'll explain when we get out of here,' said Harry, with a sideways glance at Ginny as Black pushed himself through the hole.

'Where's Lockhart?' he asked straightening himself up.

'He's back this way, Professor,' said Hermione. 'I think Ron's wand backfired again, meaning his was hit point blank with the memory charm meant for us. He's got no idea who he is our where we are.'

Led by Fawkes, whose wife scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, the walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.

'Hello,' he said, peering good-naturedly up at them. 'Odd sorry of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?'

'No,' said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe.

'Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?' he asked Ron and Hermione.

'No, sorry,' said Hermione, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked uncertainly at him.

'Grab hold of his tail Harry,' said Black. 'Phoenixes can carry incredible loads. If everyone holds hands, Fawkes should be able to carry us up to the Castle again.'

Harry tucked the sword and Sorting Hat into his belt and they all linked hands. Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers.

...

Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office.

Harry knocked and pushed the door open.

There was a moment of silence as Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Black and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry's case) blood. Then there was a scream.

'Ginny!'

It was Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She lept to her feet, closely followed by Mr Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing par Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry found himself, Ron and Hermione being swept into Mrs Weasley's tight embrace, as Mr Weasley shook Professor Black's hand.

'You saved her! You saved her!' Mrs Wesley cried. 'How did you do it?'

'I think we'd all like to know that,' said Professor McGonagall.

...

'Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing straight away,' said Dumbledore in a firm voice. 'This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.' He strode over to the door and opened it. Bed rest and perhaps a large, streaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,' he added, twinkling kindly down at her. 'Regulus, I think it best you go visit Madam Pomfrey too after your attack. You'll find she is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I dare say the Basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment. No lasting harm done, there.'

Mrs Weasley led Ginny out, followed by Black and Mr Weasley, still looking deeply shaken.

'You know, Minerva,' Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, 'I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?'

'Right,' said McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. 'I'll leave you to deal with these three, shall I?'

'Certainly,' said Dumbledore.

She left, and Harry, Ron and Hermione gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What had McGonagall meant, deal with them? Surely - surely - they weren't about to be punished.

'I seen to remember telling you boys that I would have to expel you if you broke any more rules,' said Dumbledore.

Ron opened his mouth in horror.

'Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words,' Dumbledore went on, smiling. 'Each of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see - yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor.'

Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's Valentine flowers and closed his mouth again.

'But one of us seems to be keeping nightly quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure,' Dumbledore added. 'Why so modest, Gilderoy?'

Harry gave a start. They had completely forgotten about Lockhart. He turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.

'Professor Dumbledore,' Ron said quickly, 'there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart -'

'Am I a professor?' said Lockhart in mild surprise. 'Goodness, I expect I was hopeless, was I?'

'He tried to wipe our memories, but Ron's wand backfired,' Hermione explained to Dumbledore.

'Dear me,' said Dumbledore, shaking his head, long silver moustache quivering. 'Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy?'

'Series?' said Lockhart dimly. 'Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though.' He pointed at Harry. 'He'll lens you one.'

'Would you two mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the hospital wing, too?' Dumbledore said to Ron and Hermione. 'I'd like a few more words with Harry ...'

____________________________________________________

It was probably the worst day of Harry's entire life. Percy had sent an owl to Mr and Mrs Weasley, then shut himself in his room. The remaining Weasleys sat with Harry and Hermione in a corner of the common room, unable to say anything to each other.

No afternoon had ever lasted as long as that one, nor had the Gryffindor Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet.

Near sunset Fred and George went up to bed, unable to sit there any longer.

'She knew something,' said Ron, speaking for the first time since he'd identified his sister's belongings. 'That's why she was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Percy at all. She'd found something out about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was -' Ron rubbed his eyes frantically. 'I mean, she was a pure-blood. There can't be any other reason.'

Harry could see the sun sinking, blood red, below the skyline. This was the worst he had ever felt. If only there was something he could do. Anything.

'D'you think there's a chance at all' said Ron, 'she's not - you know -'

Neither Harry nor Hermione could think of what to say.

'D'you know what?' said Ron, 'I think we should go and see Lockhart. He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and if he's done all he says he has then he should be able to stop the Basilisk!'

As Harry couldn't think of anything else to do, and Hermione was always happy to see more of Lockhart, they agreed. The Gryffindors around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys, that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left through the portrait hole.

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart's office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

'Oh ... Mr Potter ... Miss Granger ... Mr Weasley ...' he said, opening the door a mite wider. 'I'm rather busy at the moment. If you could be quick.'

'Professor, we've got some information about Slytherin's Monster,' said Harry.

'Er - well - it's not terribly -' the side of Lockhart's face they could see looked very uncomfortable. 'I mean - well - all right.'

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

'Are you going somewhere?' said Harry.

'Er, well, yes,' said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke, and starting to roll out up. 'Urgent call ... unavoidable ... got to go ...'

'What about my sister?' said Ron jerkily.

'Well, as to that - most unfortunate,' said Lockhart, abiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. 'No one regrets more than I -:

'You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!' said Harry. 'You can't go now! Not with all the dark stuff going on here!'

'Well, I must say ... when I took the job ...' Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes, 'nothing in the job description ... didn't expect ...'

'You mean you're running away?' said Harry disbelievingly. 'After all that stuff you did in your books?'

'Books can be misleading,' Lockhart said delicately.

'You wrote them!' Harry shouted.

'My dear boy,' said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. 'Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who vanished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on ...'

Hermione had been silent throughout the exchange as she saw her idol revealed for the coward he really was. But here she had to interrupt.

'So you're a fraud?' she said. 'A charlatan. You haven't done a single thing you claim to have done? How have you gotten away with it for so long? You can't have paid them all off.'

'Oh, sweet Miss Granger,' Lockhart tutted. 'There was so much work involved. I had to track these people down and ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. And then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Miss Granger. It's not all book-signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.'

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

'Let's see,' he said. 'I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left.'

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

'Awfully sorry, all, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have your blabbing -'

'Expelliarmus!' Hermione shouted before he had chance to say any more. Lockhart was blasted backwards, falling over his trunk. His wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it and flung it out of the open window.

'Blimey, Hermione,' he said, 'You'll have to teach me that one some time.'

Harry kicked Lockhart's trunk air. Lockhart was looking up at him, weedy once more. Harry had his wand pointed at him.

'What d'you want me to do?' said Lockhart weekly. 'I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do.'

'You're in luck,' said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. 'Not only do we know where it is, we also know what's inside. Let's go.'

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They sent Lockhart in first. Harry was pleased to see he was shaking. When the entered they found Myrtle sitting on a cistern, and a figure near the taps. It was Professor Black.

'I might have guessed you might show up,' Black said.

'You're the heir?' Harry said.

'No, Mr Potter,' said Black. 'I am trying to find the entrance to the Chamber in order to save Miss Weasley, though it's not looking promising. But I found the snake Mr Malfoy mentioned. Perhaps his intuition is right, perhaps you can open it Harry with your Parseltongue abilities.'

Harry walked over to Black and saw the snake engraved on the side of the tap just as Malfoy had said.

'Say something, Harry,' said Ron. 'Something in Parseltongue.'

'But -' Harry thought hard. The only times he'd managed to speak Parseltongue were when he'd been faced with a real snake. He stared hard at the tiny engraving, trying to imagine it was real.

'Open up,' he said.

He looked at Ron, who shook his head.

'English,' he said.

Harry looked back at the snake, willing himself to believe it was alive. If he moved his head, the candlelight made it look as though it was moving.

'Open up,' he said.

Except the words weren't what he heard; a strange hiding had escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move. The sink, in fact, sack, right out of sight, leaving a large pile exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Harry heard Ron gasp and looked up again. He had made up his mind what he was going to do.

'I'm going down there,' he said.

He couldn't not go, not now they had found the entrance to the Chamber, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Ginny might be alive

'I think not, Mr Potter,' said Black. 'One of you will go and fetch Professor McGonagall, whilst the rest of us wait here. Then we teachers will go down and explore.'

'No chance,' said Ron. 'Ginny's down there, haven't we wasted enough time already. I'm going down right now.'

And before anyone could stop him he jumped feet first into the pipe.

'Oh, for goodness sake,' said Black before following him.

'Well, you hardly seem to need me,' said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile, as he began to back out of the bathroom. 'I'll go fetch Mc -'

'You're going down,' said Hermione, pointing her wand at him. 'You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Go defend.'

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

'Harry,' he said, his voice feeble, 'come now, what good will it do?'

Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe and Hermione pushed him down.

'What a fraud,' she said, red in her anger at being duped.

'I think Black was right,' said Harry. 'One of us should go and get McGonagall. If the Basilisk is down there I have the best chance of calling it off, so I think you should go.'

'Not likely,' said Hermione, 'You wouldn't have gotten this far without me, I'm not leaving now, especially with Ginny in danger.' With that she slid down the pipe and Harry had no choice but to follow.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark side. He could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downwards, and he knew he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons.

And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe levelled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel, large enough to stand in.

Lockhart was getting to his feet a little way away. Hermione was already standing to Harry's left. And a little way on Harry could just make out the silhouettes of Ron and Black. Though he didn't need to see where they were. Black was shouting at Ron loud enough.

'What if the monster had been down here?' Black said.

'Well at least I was trying to save my sister!' Ron said.

'Mr Weasley, I fail to see how you could help your sister if you were dead.' Black turned to see that everyone else had joined them down the pipe. 'So I take it that no one went to McGonagall?' he asked.

No one said a word.

'Wonderful,' said Black eventually. 'No one has the faintest idea of where we are, Slytherin's Monster could show up any moment and I'm stuck down here with three under-aged Wizards and the most grossly incompetent teacher I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. Oh, and there's no way we're getting back up that way, now, is there?'

The tunnel fell silent, except for the odd whimper from Lockhart.

'Well, we're down here now,' said Harry, 'and I'm not going to hang around.' He walked a little way down the tunnel, and muttered Lumos, igniting his wand.

Hermione and Professor Black also lit their own wands and the five of them moved forward cautiously, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

'Remember,' said Harry quietly, 'any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away ...'

But the tunnel was quiet as a grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Harry lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Ginny might look like if they found her, Harry led the way forward, round a dark bend in the tunnel.

'Harry, there's something up there ...' said Ron hoarsely, grabbing Harry's shoulder.

The froze, watching. Harry could see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.

'Maybe it's asleep,' he breathed, glancing back at the others. Lockhart's hands were pressed over his eyes. Harry turned back to look at the thing, his heart bearing so fast it hurt.

Very slowly, his eyes narrow add he could make them and still see, Harry began to edge forward. But Black held him back and stepped forward himself.

'It's merely the snake's skin,' Black announced. The students breathed a sigh of relief and saw the vivid, poisonous green skin, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

'Blimey,' said Ron weakly.

There was a sudden movement as Gilderoy Lockhart's knees gave way beneath him.

'Get up,' said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet - he then diced at Ron, knocking him to the ground. He straightened up panting, with Ron's wand in his hand and a gleaming smile was back on his face.

'The adventure ends here' he declared, raising Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, 'Obliviate!'

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling which were thundering to the floor. Next moment it was just him and Black staring at a solid wall of broken rock.

____________________________________________________

As Harry returned to the castle and headed towards the Gryffindor Dormitories, he had a thought that someone else might be able to help him figure who was behind the attacks.

Ghosts, he reasoned, would know more about the history of Hogwarts than any living person surely. But Nearly Headless Nick was petrified, Peeves was less than helpful, and Harry had never really spoken to any of the other ghosts. Except for Myrtle.

Harry reached her bathroom and tentatively opened the door to the faint sound of sobbing.

'Myrtle?' he called.

The sobbing stopped.

'Who's that?' glugged Myrtle miserably. 'Come to throw something else at me?'

Harry walked to her cubicle, noting that the floor was quite slippery, as if it has recently been mopped. 'Why would I want to throw something at you?'

'Don't ask me,' Myrtle wailed, emerging with a wave of water, which splashed in the already damp floor. 'Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me ...'

'But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you,' said Harry, reasonably. 'I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?'

He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, 'Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha ha ha! What a lovely have, I don't think!'

'Who the it at you anyway?' asked Harry.

'I don't know ... I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it feel right through the top of my head,' said Myrtle, glaring at him. 'It's over there, it for washed out.'

Harry looked under the sink, where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry picked it up and saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told him it was fifty years old. He opened it eagerly. In the first page he could just make out the name 'T. M. Riddle's in smudged ink.

Harry peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the faintest trade of writing on any of them, not even 'Auntie Mabel's birthday' or 'dentist, half past three'.

Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a newsagent's from Vauxhall Road, London. He must've been Muggle-born, Harry deduced. Then he wondered whether Myrtle might know of the diarist.

'Myrtle,' he said, as tactfully as possible. 'Can you remember when you died?'

All of a sudden Myrtle lit up with glee.

'Oh, yes! 13th June, 1943! It was dreadful!' she said with relish. 'I died in this very cubicle, you know?I remember it so well. I was hiding because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really fit me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked my door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -' Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, 'I died.'

'How?'

'No idea,' said Myrtle in hushed tones. 'I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body seized up, and then I was floating away ...' she looked dreamily at Harry. 'And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses.'

Harry weighed the diary in his hand. 'Do you know who T. M. Riddle is?' he asked.

'Tom Riddle? Ooh, he was so handsome, just like you Harry. Though he was a couple of years older than me and a perfect. He had such a sad childhood, he was an orphan, brought up with muggles.'

Also like me, thought Harry. If only he could find out more about this Tom Riddle...

...

'Are you mad?' said Ron as Harry shared what he had found with the others. 'It could be dangerous.'

'Dangerous?' said Harry, laughing. 'Come off it, how can it be dangerous?'

'You'd be surprised,' said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. 'Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated - Dad's told me - there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Singers of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your most in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And -'

'All right, I've got the point,' said Harry.

'Anyway, Ron,' said Hermione, 'Harry's looked at it and seems to be as normal as ever, so I don't think this particular book is cursed. It might have hidden powers though.' She took the diary and looked at it closely.

'Who's diary did you say it was, again?' asked Ron whilst Hermione started tapping the book as if to try and reveal its secrets.

'Tom Riddle. Apparently he was a perfect here 50 years ago. Myrtle knew him - and I'm sure she's who the monster killed last time. Big yellow eyes she mentioned.'

'I know that name, Tom Riddle,' said Ron thoughtfully. 'I know where I know it from, he got an award for special services to the school 50 years ago - it's the one I had to keep polishing. Maybe it had something to do with the chamber opening last time. Maybe he found the culprit.'

'If only he'd written in his diary, then we might know,' said Harry.

'It might be invisible ink,' Hermione suggested.

She tapped the diary three times and said, 'Aparecium!'

Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand into her car and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

'It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley,' she said.

She rubbed hard on 'January the first'. Nothing happened.

'Maybe he just got it for Christmas and couldn't be bothered to fill it in,' said Ron.

...

The next morning as Harry and Ron went down to the Common Room, they find Hermione was already there, poring over a book.

'I think I've found it!' she said, excitedly. 'Here, read this.'

She passed them her copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and they read the passage she was pointing to.

The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plunge upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death.

If the food source is sufficient (the Basilisk will eat all mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a very great age. Herpo the Foul's Basilisk is believed to have lived for close on nine hundred years.

'See? It has large yellow eyes which were the last thing Myrtle saw before she died. And we know that Slytherin's symbol was the serpent, maybe he created a Basilisk, something he could control through his use of Parseltongue to get rid of his enemies. And if they can live for at least nine hundred years then that would make sense too.'

'But it doesn't explain why Colin and Justin were only petrified,' said Ron. 'Or how it's getting around the school.'

'I think I might have an answer for the first problem,' said Hermione. 'None of the victims this tube around have looked directly at the Basilisk. Mrs Norris saw its reflection in the water outside Myrtle's bathroom. Colin saw its gaze through his camera. Justin saw it through Nick, who got the full blast, but obviously can't die twice.' She passed them each a mirror. 'Here, look around corners with these just in case, that way we should keep safe.'

____________________________________________________

Harry went down to breakfast to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of his summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Harry sat between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of moustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys have any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too use to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the newsreader on the television and almost fell off his chair.

The report was about an escaped convict. And through the gaunt face and matted, elbow-length tangle of hair, there Harry felt sure he recognised the man.

'... the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.'

That confirmed it then, this man was the brother of Professor Black, the Potions Master at Hogwarts. For just over a year now Harry had known that Professor Black had a brother, one who had been friends with his own father no less. And then, at the start of this year, when he and his friends were doing research into who the Heir of Slytherin might be Harry discovered that he had been sent to Azkaban for the murder of 12 Muggles.

'No need to tell us he's no good,' snorted Uncle Vernon, starting over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. 'Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!'

He shot a nasty look at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Harry daren't tell him that Black was a wizard, he didn't feel that would go down too well.

The newsreader had reappeared.

'The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today -'

'Hang on!' barked Uncle Vernon, starting furiously at the newsreader. 'You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!'

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, who's around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would love to be the one to call the hotline number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbours.

'When will they learn,' said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, 'that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?'

'Very true,' said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner beans.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and added, 'I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia, Marge's train gets in at ten.'

Harry's mind was taken from one unpleasant thought to another.

...

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. It was Professor Black's brother.

'That man!' Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. 'He was on the Muggle news!'

Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled.

'Sirius Black,' he said, nodding. ''Course 'e was on the Muggles news, Neville. Where you been?'

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry's face, removed the front page and handed it to Harry.

'You oughta read the papers more, Neville.'

Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still evading capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

'We are doing all we can to recapture Black,' said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, 'and we beg for the magical community to remain calm.'

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

'Well, really, I had to, don't you know,' said an irritable Fudge. 'Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it - who'd believe him if he did?'

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Thirteen. Harry was sure Hermione said it was twelve Muggles that Professor Black's brother had murdered.

'Scary-lookin' fing, inee?' said Stan, who had been watching Harry read.

'He murdered thirteen people?' said Harry, handing the page back to Stan.

'Yep,' said Stan. 'In front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?'

'Ar,' said Ern darkly.

Stan swivelled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry.

'Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo,' he said.

'What, Voldemort?' said Harry, without thinking.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

'You outta your tree?' yelped Stan. ''Choo say his name for?'

'Sorry,' said Harry hastily. 'Sorry, I - I forgot -'

'Forgot!' said Stan weakly. 'Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast ...'

'So - so black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?' Harry promoted apologetically.

'Yeah,' said Stan, still rubbing his chest. 'Yeah that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say ... anyway, when little 'Arry Potter put paid to You-Know-'Oo' - Harry nervously flattened his fringe down again - 'all You-Know_'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

'Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh?'

So he murdered a wizard as well as the twelve Muggles. Black was a powerful and evil wizard alright.

''An you know what Black did then?' Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

'What?' said Harry.

'Laughed, said Stan. 'Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?'

'If he weren't when he went into Azkaban, he will be now,' said Ern in his slow voice. 'I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind ... after what he did ...'

'They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?' Stan said. ''Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?'

'Gas explosion,' grunted Ern.

'An' now 'e's out,' said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. 'Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern.'

Ernie suddenly shivered.

'Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Then Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.'

Stan put the paper away reluctantly and Harry leant against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. This Sirius was a murderer all right, and a supporter of Voldemort. And Harry's dad had been best friends with him, what kind of a man did that mean he was?

____________________________________________________

'Any sign of him, Professor?' asked Percy in a whisper.

'No. All well here?'

'Everything under control, sir.'

'Good. There's no point in moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow.'

'And the Fat Lady, sir?'

'Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr Filch restore her.'

Harry heard the door of the Hall crack open again, and more footsteps.

'Headmaster.' It was Professor Black. Harry kept quite still, listening hard. 'I've swept the dungeons and cannot find him anywhere. Filch took the third floor and he's nowhere to be found there, either.'

'What about the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?'

'He's not hung around, Headmaster.'

'Very well, Regulus. I didn't expect your brother to linger.'

'How do you think he managed to get in and out undetected, Professor?' asked Black.

Harry raised his head very slightly off his arms to free his other ear.

'I have ideas, Regulus, each as unlikely as the next, I'm afraid.'

Harry opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face, for with attention, and Black's profile, which looked angry.

'I don't suppose you think he helped do you?' said Black. Harry had no idea who he might be, but clearly Dumbledore did.

'No Regulus, no more than I suspect you, or the young Mr Weasley here,' the Headmaster said firmly. 'I must go down to the Dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete.'

'Didn't they want to help, sir?' said Percy.

'Oh yes,' said Dumbledore coldly. 'But I'm afraid no Dementors will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster.'

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the Hall, walking quickly and quietly. Black stood for a moment, watching the Headmaster with a look of contemplation on his face, then he, too, left.

Harry glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Both of them had their eyes open, too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

'What was that all about?' Ron mouthed.

...

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team were training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. At the end of their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood have his team a pep talk.

'I know the conditions aren't great for playing Quidditch, but I also know we've got the best bloody team at Hogwarts! Slytherin have one advantage over us: they're size. With bulk like theirs, they don't have to worry so much about being buffered around by the wind.

'But in every other corner we have them beat. Angelica, Alicia, Katie,' - there were whistles from Fred and George - 'you three are a great team out there, you always know where the others are, pass well and can tell where the wind will take the quaffle. Just make sure you get it part Bletchley as much as you can.

'Fred and George; you two are always there when your team needs you. With you as beaters no one needs to worry about bludgers coming for them. Remember though, Slytherin are an aggressive team and Derrick and Bole won't go easy on us, so don't go easy on them!'

'You can count on us, Oliver,' said Fred.

'Yeah,' agreed George, 'we'll give 'em as good as we get.'

'No, George,' argued Fred. 'Better!' Oliver beamed proudly.

'And Harry. Best seeker we've had some Charlie Weasley himself (still a shame he went after them dragons, he'd be playing for England next year if he'd gone professional!). Remember we want to end at least 300 points ahead of Slytherin on Saturday. They'll destroy Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw - and so will we! - but I want us to get as far out in front as possible, make their comeback as hard as we can.'

The team cheered, knowing how much this year's cup meant for Oliver. They'd win it for him.

...

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit.

Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to Harry between classes and giving him tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that Harry suddenly realised he was ten minutes late for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and set off at a Ron with Wood sitting after him, 'Malfoy doesn't look for the snitch, he watches the seeker - a few Wronski Feints will put him off the scent!'

Harry skidded to a halt outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulled the door open and dashed inside.

'Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I -'

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk; it was Black.

'How kind of you to join us, Mr Potter, however I think you'll find the lesson began ten minutes ago. Professor Lupin may tolerate tardiness, however, as you well know, I do not. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Please take your seat.'

But Harry didn't move.

'Where's Professor Lupin?' he said.

'Not that it is any of your business, but Professor Lupin is feeling a little under the weather today. I assure you he will be right as rain soon enough, but for today's class you gave me. Now please take your seat before I have to take off any more points.'

Harry reluctantly sat down. Black looked around at the class.

'Carry on with your reading, please,' he said. 'Chapter 5, Mr Potter, the one about Hinkypunks, if you please. Once you have finished reading I have a comprehension sheet for your to fill out.'

Harry got out his book and began to read in silence with the rest of the class. It was the quietest and most boring Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year, by some considerable margin. After what seemed to be an eternity the bell finally rang and Black collectef they're work before dismissing them.

...

Harry knew better than to think the match would be cancelled. Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles such as thunderstorms. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel very apprehensive, with the extra lessons Black had been giving to Malfoy, who knew how good he'd be this year.

...

Such as the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before he entered the changing room, Harry saw Crabbe and Goyle laughing and pointing at him from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium.

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. Instead he settled for a steely look of determination and a simple, 'Let's do this.'

The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the pitch. If the crowd was cheering they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry's glasses. How on earth was he going to see the Snitch in this?

The Slytherins were approaching from the opposite side of the pitch, wearing green and silver robes. The captains walked up to each other and both seemed to be trying their utmost to crush the other's hand. Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, 'Mount your brooms.' He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant - they were off.

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steadily as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes Harry was soaked to the skin and frozen, hardly able to see his team-mates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He did notice a lone figure high above the pitch with him. Malfoy was also flying above the action, keeping his eye out for that elusive Snitch. Clearly his lessons were paying off.

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice Harry nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a team-mate or opponent; everyone was blue so wet, and the rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart...

With the first flash if lightning came the sound of Madame Hooch's whistle; Harry could see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, featuring him to ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

'I called for time out!' Wood roared at his team. 'Come on, under here -'

They huddled at the edge of the pitch under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wired then hurriedly on his robes.

'What's the score?'

'We're seventy points up,' said Wood, 'but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night.'

'I've got no chance with these on,' Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.

At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming.

'I've had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!'

He handed than to her and, as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, 'Impervius!'

'There!' she said, handing them back to Harry. 'They'll rework water!'

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.

'Brilliant!' he called hoarsely after her, as she disappeared into the crowd. 'OK, team, let's go for it!'

Hermione's spell had done the trick. Harry was still numb with cooks, still wetter than he'd ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch.

'How are we meant to carry on in this?' asked a voice at his shoulder. It was Malfoy. 'We'll be dead before we can find the Snitch!'

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. Harry had to admit this was getting more and more dangerous.

'You're right, Malfoy,' Harry said. 'I'd better go and look for the Snitch before we get struck by lightning!'

He turned, intending to get away from Malfoy and find any glimpse of the Snitch that might put an end to this match, but in that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely: the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost empty row of seats.

Harry's numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden fringe or of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.

Malfoy was still above him, but the rain was falling more heavily than ever and the wind was picking up.

And then something odd happened. An eerie silence was falling over the stadium. The wind, though remaining strong, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had suddenly gone deaf - what was going on..?

____________________________________________________

'Anything worrying you Harry?' Lupin asked.

'No,' Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him. 'Yes,' he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin's desk. 'I'm worried about Neville. He seems to be quieter than normal at the moment. Since the Boggart, I mean.'

Lupin drew a deep breath.

'That's true,' he said. 'Neville has been through a lot in his short life, not dissimilar from yourself. He and I are working through it though, I suggest you continue to give him space and he'll talk to you when he's ready to.'

Harry took a sip of tea, and another concern came to him.

'That day we fought the Boggart you seemed to be avoiding letting me fight it,' he said.

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

'Well yes,' he said, sounding suprised, 'I thought it would be obvious why.'

Harry, who had expected Lupin to deny that he'd done any such thing, was taken aback.

'Why?' he asked.

'Well,' said Lupin, frowning slightly, ' I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.'

Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he'd expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name. The only person Harry had heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore.

'Clearly I was wrong,' said Lupin, still frowning at Harry. 'But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialise in the staff room. I imagined that people would panic.'

'I did think of Voldemort first,' said Harry honestly. 'But then I - I remembered those Dementors.'

'I see,' said Lupin thoughtfully. 'Well, well ... I'm impressed.' He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. 'That suggests that what you fear most of all is - fear. Very wise, Harry.'

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea.

'So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?' said Lupin shrewdly.

'Well - year,' said Harry. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. 'Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors -'

He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

'Come in,' called Lupin.

The door opened, and in came Black.

'Regulus,' said Lupin, smiling, 'how can I help?'

'Sorry to intrude Remus, but it was actually Mr Potter I was looking for,' Black said. 'I managed to catch everyone else as they left for Hogsmeade and thought I might find you here. As usual, the first Slug Club of the year will be held tonight, in dungeon 12. Remus, that thing you asked for is ready, by the way. I'll be in my office until 6pm, though I suggest you come by sooner, rather than later.'

With that he turned on his heel and closed the door behind him. Lupin smiled at Harry, mischievously.

'So,' he said, 'you're part of the Slug Club, are you?'

Harry suddenly felt embarrassed. He hadn't realised he'd still be part of the Club as it had been Professor Lockhart, last year's incompetent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who'd first invited him. After her was revealed as a fraud and accidentally wiped his own memory Harry assumed he'd be struck off the list, especially considering Black had made it abundantly clear he did not agree with Harry joining.

'Your mother was part of the Slug Club when we were at school, you know? Back when old Slughorn was Potions Master.'

'You knew my mother?' Harry said, surprised.

'Oh yes, a very talented witch. Your father always said he didn't deserve her, he was probably right, but no one made her laugh quite like he did. There was no one else in her eyes, and no one else in his.'

Lupin seemed very withdrawn all of a sudden as if he was remembering Harry's parents in their schooldays. A tear began to well in the corner of his eye.

'Well, Harry,' he said finally, 'I'd better get back to work. I don't suppose I'll see you at the feast, but I'm sure we'll see each other soon.'

'Right,' said Harry, putting his empty teacup down. 'See you soon.'

...

'Wish we could have brought you some Butterbeer, really warms you up -'

'What did you do?' said Hermione, looking anxious. 'Did you get any work done?'

'No,' said Harry. 'Lupin made me a cup of tea in his office. He was at school with my mum and dad apparently. I suppose he probably knew Professor Black's brother too.'

Unfortunately they didn't have any more time to discuss this development as Harry and Hermione parted ways with Ron outside the Great Hall and headed down to the dungeons.

Dungeon 12 was the largest of the dungeons and was decorated for Hallowe'en; much more tastefully then last year. In the corner a pianist was playing a cobweb covered grand piano. Corbin Constance was his name, and he had been a member of the club as a Ravenclaw in the early 80s before finding fame as a musician, and had just come off a summer tour with The Weird Sisters. His golden hair fell to his stool.

Harry and Hermione found Neville talking with Cedric Diggory, a fifth year and Hufflepuff's seeker, about the properties of Gillyweed. Harry noticed that Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini had been added to the ranks this year, as well as a second year Ravenclaw student with silvery blonde hair and an assortment of jangling jewellery who was dancing airily with herself to Constance's music.

The night went quickly enough, though no one really wanted to bring up the subject that was on everyone's mind: Sirius Black. Whenever he was mentioned, even in passing, Professor Black's eyes lit in anger and conversation quickly moved on to something else.

Eventually the night came to a close and Professor Black sent them to their dormitories. Harry, Hermione and Neville joined the throng of students leaving the Feast from the Great Hall, finding Ron as he ascended the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower.

'You missed a great night!' Ron said. 'Nearly Headless Nick re-enacted his beheading - it was brilliant!'

They had reached the corridor which ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady and find it jammed with students.

____________________________________________________

Of course Sirius has made his first entrance into the castle, causing the Fat Lady to flee...

Thursday morning the Slytherins and Gryffindors had double potions. Malfoy still hadn't made an appearance since the incident with Buckbeak.

'Today,' Professor Black began, 'we will be making a Shrinking Solution. But before we begin, I would like to address the erumpent in the room. I am sure that by now you are all aware that the murderer Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban prison. I am sure that many of you have even come to the conclusion we are related. This is true, we are. In fact he is my older brother.' There were gasps around the room at this revelation, particularly from Lavender and Parvati.

'I can assure you,' Black continued, 'that I do not condone his actions and the Dementors that surround this school have my full support to do what they deign necessary to capture him and make sure he never sees the light of day again.'

Harry thought it was all very cold, calculated and over-rehearsed, but could dwell no further as Black began their lesson proper.

Halfway through their class, Malfoy swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he was the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

'Mr Malfoy,' said Black, as Draco took his seat. 'You are an hour late to my lesson. Would you care to explain yourself?'

Malfoy looked as if he'd just been struck by Buckbeack again.

'I'm waiting for your excuse, Mr Malfoy. And it had better be good.'

'Madame Pomfrey has only just signed my out of the Hospital Ward, Professor,' Malfoy said eventually.

'You and I both know this to be false, Mr Malfoy. Madame Pomfrey fixed you up immediately after the incident and recommended bed rest for the rest of the day. That was at the start of the week. You have missed every class since and you have turned up to mine an hour late. 50 points from Slytherin, and I will see you in my office tonight at 6pm sharp to discuss you detention. And please take off that ridiculous bandage; Madame Pomfrey is one of the best healers in this country and you do her a disservice by wearing it.'

Malfoy had gone as red as a beet. He looked downcast at his Cauldron and took off his bandage, revealing a scar free arm.

'Carry on,' Black said to the class before returning to his marking.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. He began chopping his daisy roots in silence. The other Slytherins were glaring at him furiously.

'Father's written to the Governors, by the way,' Malfoy said quietly. 'And the Ministry of Magic. I thought you ought to know. He's going to try and get Hagrid sacked.'

'Is that why you were still wearing your bandage?' Harry hissed. Malfoy didn't answer, but his embarrassed silence told Harry everything.

'Hey, Harry,' said Seamus Finnegan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales a little while later, breaking the uncomfortable silence, 'have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning - they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted.

'Where?' said Harry and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely.

'Not too far from here,' said Seamus, who looked excited. 'It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she 'phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.'

'Not too far from here ...' Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. 'What are you looking at, Malfoy?'

Malfoy's eyes were subbing malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry. He leant across the table

'Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handedly, Potter?

'Yeah, that's right,' said Harry offhandedly.

Malfoy's thin mouth was curving into a mean smile.

'Of course, if it was me,' he said quietly, 'I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good little boy, I'd be out there looking for him.'

'Mr Malfoy,' came Professor Black's voice, before the conversation could continue. 'Is it not enough that you were late, but you have to continue chatting incessantly too. Ten more points from Slytherin. At this rate, you'll be single handedly responsible for taken us into negative figures, something not achieved since the Great Hufflepuff Folly of 1846.'

At the end of class Black tested everyone's potion on old textbooks. Everyone's potion worked, except for Malfoy's. Neville's book shrunk the most, closely followed by Hermione's, gaining Gryffindor give points apiece.

...

Lupin led the Gryffindors down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staff-room door.

'Inside, please,' said Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staff room, a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched furniture, was empty of staff.

'Now, then,' said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe in which the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe have a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

'Nothing to worry about,' said Professor Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped backwards in alarm. 'There's a Boggart in there.'

Most people seemed to feel this was something to worry about. Neville face Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnegan eyed the note rattling doorknob apprehensively.

...

'We will practise the charm without wands first. After me, please ... riddikulus!'

'Riddikulus!' said the class together.

'Good,' said Professor Lupin. 'Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. Let's see ... ah, Ronald, perhaps you can help in this next bit. What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?'

'Spiders, Professor,' said Ron, shuddering at the thought. There were a couple of titters amongst the class. 'And I prefer Ron.'

'Very well, Ron. Now, let's think about how we could make a spider amusing. How about giving it roller skates?'

Ron blanched at the thought. 'But then it could get me quicker!' The were a few more laughs this time. 'I'd rather it have no legs, just rolling around like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Bean.'

'Very good, Ron. When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe and sees you, it will assume the form of a spider,' said Lupin. 'And you will raise your wand - thus - and cry "Riddikulus" - and concentrate hard on it having no legs and rolling around like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Bean.'

The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

'If Ron is successful, the Boggart is likely to turn his attention to each of us in turn,' said Professor Lupin. 'I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical ...'

...

'Ron, we're going to back away,' said Professor Lupin. 'Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward ... Everyone back, now, so Ron can get a clear shot -'

They all retreated, backing against the walls, leaving Ron alone beside the wardrobe. He held his wand ready and gulped, ready for the Spider that was about to confront him.

'On the count of three, Ron,' said Professor Lupin, who was putting his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. 'One - two - three - now!'

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking it's pincers menacingly. A few students screamed. Harry thought of Hagrid's pet, Aragog, who he and Hermione had encountered last year and was about twice the size of the best in front of them. If Ron had been with them, Harry dreaded to think how he would have reacted.

'Riddikulus!' bellowed Ron. There was a noise line a whip-crack and the spider's legs vanished. It rolled over and over until it landed at Dean's feet. The legless spider turned into a severed hand with a crack. It flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

'Riddikulus!' yelled Dean.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

'Excellent! Seamus, forward!'

There was another crack and the hand was now a woman with floor length black hair and a skeletal, green tinged face - a banshee. She opened her mouth wide, and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek which made the hair in Harry's head stand up on end -

'Riddikulus!' shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

'Parvati!' Lupin roared.

Parvati stepped forward, her face set. The banshee turned to her and with another crack became a blood-stained, bandaged mummy. It began to walk very slowly towards Parvati, dragging is feet, stiff arms raising -

'Riddikulus!' cried Parvati.

A bandage unravelled at the mummy's get; it became entangled and fell forwards and it's head rolled off.

Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then - crack! - became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before - crack! - becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

'It's confused!' shouted Lupin. 'We're getting there! Neville!'

Neville stepped forward, nervously. The eyeball turned into his grandmother, who was writing on the floor, seemingly in great pain.

'Ri-ri-rid-' Neville stuttered. Lupin took the opportunity to jump in and Neville's grandmother disappeared in another crack.

For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where the Boggart was. Then they saw a silvery white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said 'Riddikulus!' almost lazily.

Crack!

'Forward, Ron, and finish him off!' said Lupin, as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! The spider returned.

'Riddikulus!' Ron shouted, the Spider lost it's legs again and as it fell to the floor it exploded, bursting into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

'Excellent!' cried Lupin, as the class broke into applause. 'Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see ... five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart - ten for Ron because he did it twice - and give each for Harry and Hermione.'

'But I didn't do anything,' said Harry.

'You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry,' Lupin said lightly. 'Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise or for me ... to be handed in on Monday. That will be all, except for you Neville, I'd like to have a word, if I may.'

Talking excitedly the class left the staff room. Harry, Ron and Hermione hung back to wait for Neville.

'That was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?' said Ron excitedly.

'He sends a very good teacher,' said Hermione approvingly. 'But I wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart ...'

Harry couldn't help but agree. It hadn't escaped his notice that Lupin's eyes passed over him whenever he chose a student to confront the Boggart.

'What would it have been for you?' Ron asked Hermione, sniggering. 'A piece of homework that only for nine out of ten?'

The door opened and Neville walked out, looking slightly less shaken than before.

'Are you alright Neville?' Harry said.

'Yeah, fine thanks, let's go get our stuff,' said Neville, before leading the way back to the classroom. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a glance, silently agreeing to drop the subject of his Boggart until Neville felt comfortable discussing it with them, before following him back to the classroom.

____________________________________________________

I like the idea that Black isn't as forgiving of Slytherins as Snape is, much closer to McGonagall's way of teaching. I also like the idea of him not putting up with Draco's shit and molding him into something more humane from the get go.

Of course, with Snape out of the picture Neville needed a new Boggart, but with Regulus being quite supportive I figured the next thing he'd fear would be losing his grandmother, his only family left, to the curse he lost his parents to.

So, Sirius Black was after him. That explained why Fudge had been so lenient with he; clearly he was just so relieved to see Harry alive. He'd made him promise to stay in Diagon Alley, where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry until he was on the train.

Harry lay listening to the muffled shouting from next door and wondered why he didn't feel more scared. Sirius black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr and Mrs Weasley obviously thought Harry would be panic-stricken of he knew the truth. But Harry happened to agree whole-heartedly with Mrs Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn't people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Sirius black, as Voldemort's right hand man, would be just as frightened.

Harry just couldn't see how his father, who married a Muggle-born would ever be friends with such a man. Did he know that Sirius Black was Voldemort's right hand man? Were they still friends when Voldemort came to kill Harry and his parents?

...

Harry explained to Ron and Hermione all about Mr and Mrs Weasley's argument, the warning Mr Weasley had just given him and that Sirius Black and his dad had been friends. When he'd finished Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, 'Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry ... you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry ...'

'I don't go looking for trouble,' said Harry, nettled. 'Trouble usually finds me.'

'How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?' said Ron shakily. 'And you reckon he was your dad's mate?'

'Well Dumbledore once said that Professor Black's brother was one of my dad's friends, yeah,' said Harry. 'So, unless they have a secret third brother I'd say this is the one.'

All of a sudden a faint, tiny sort of whistle could be heard in their compartment. Harry was glad if the distraction. He was glad to get that off his chest, but didn't feel like answering any more questions on the subject which would inevitably have followed.

...

At one o'clock the plump witch with the food trolley arrived at the compartment for.

'D'you think we should wake him up?' Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Professor Lupin. 'He looks like he could do with some food.'

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously.

'Er - Professor?' she said. 'Excuse me - Professor?'

He didn't move.

'Don't worry, dear,' said the witch, as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. 'If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver.'

'I suppose he is asleep?' said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment for shut. 'I mean - he hasn't died, has he?'

'No, no, he's breathing,' whispered Hermione, taking the Cauldron Cake Harry passed her.

He might not have been very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and Draco Malfoy appeared at the door, with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco Malfoy and Harry had never gotten on since they met on their very first train journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin house; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position Harry played on the Gryffindor team - and Harry had reluctantly given him lessons last year. In return Draco had helped them discover the truth about Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, hidden for centuries deep beneath the castle. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was the taller, with a pudding-basin haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla arms.

'Well, look who it is,' said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. 'Potty and the Weasel.'

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

'I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Wesley,' said Malfoy. 'Did your mother die of shock?'

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin have a snort. It would seem that, in public at least, Malfoy wasn't going to be as cordial as he was last year.

'Who's that?' said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backwards as he spotted Lupin.

'New teacher,' said Harry, who had got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. 'What were you saying, Malfoy?'

Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

'C'mon,' he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

...

Harry, Ron and Hermione followed the rest of the school out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside one and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mould and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again.

As the carriage trundle towards a pair of magnificent wrought-iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towing, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leant back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed through the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.

As Harry stepped down a hesitant voice sounded in his ear.

'Is it true, Potter? Did you faint at the Dementors?'

It was Malfoy, no longer with his fellow Slytherins, and showing some concern.

'What's it to you, Malfoy?' said Ron, still not over the comments about his family and couldn't stand how two-faced Malfoy could be

'If you must know, Weasley,' Malfoy said, through gritted teeth, 'I was also terrified by them. Though I didn't faint,' he added quickly. 'I'm surprised that Harry did, that's all. They feed on fear, you know? Suck the joy and happiness right out of you.'

'Professor Lupin gave me some chocolate and that seemed to help,' said Harry, empathising with Malfoy, despite himself.

'I have a little more if anyone needs a pick-me-up, said a mild vice. Professor Lupin himself had just got out of the next carriage.

'Thanks, Professor,' said Malfoy, taking a couple of chunks before sprinting back to his fellow Slytherins.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak doors, and into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches and housed a magnificent marble staircase, which led to the upper floors.

...

'On a happier note,' Dumbledore continued, 'I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

'Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic, applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

'Look at Black!' Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

Professor Black was still as pale as ever, but looking less gaunt than before. Younger and, dare Harry say, handsome. Healthier certainly. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his brother was out of prison. That wasn't what Ron had brought him to Harry's attention for though. Black was staring intently along the staff table at Professor Lupin.

It was common knowledge that Black wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry was startled at the expression on Black's face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing.

____________________________________________________