Furious Angels

14: The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Earlier...

Daphne studied Hermione carefully before nodding. "That's what we thought as well. My question, though, is... would you have any idea who the Heir might be?"

Neville looked to Hermione, who shrugged and raised an eyebrow. He shifted his gaze to Luna, whose expression of mild interest never shifted. The boy's brow crinkled as he pursed his mouth at her. She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Well... we don't know who the Heir is, but we know who it isn't. It isn't Harry Potter," he said, turning back to Daphne Greengrass.

"Yeah, we figured you'd say that." The boy who accompanied Greengrass, Guy Beaumont, chuckled. "Is that something you feel, something you think, or something you know?"

"It's something we know!" Hermione was adamant.

Beaumont eyed Hermione with a sneer and opened his mouth to reply. He paused before speaking and shut his mouth. After a moment of consideration, he asked, "How?"

"Ginevra Potter. You only think you understand what's going on between her and Harry Potter. Their relationship is much more than some noblesse oblige political arrangement by Harry, as you seem to think, Miss Greengrass," Hermione said in an exasperated tone. "And it's not a contract forced on Harry as a method for the Weasleys to climb up the social ladder, as you seem to believe, Mister Beaumont. They really, truly love each other. That's why they are together. Not for politics, not for money. For love."

"No member of the Twelve Families marries just for love." Greengrass rolled her eyes, visibly and with intent. "There's always politics behind such things. A child is too important a resource to squander by marrying them off to nobodies and peasants." She explained it as if speaking to a two-year-old. "Potter's parents would have started receiving offers the moment he was born. There's no way..."

"Harry's dad married for love," Neville said quietly. "He was enough of a rebel against the old traditions to do that; do you think he'd tie Harry down from childhood?" He shrugged expressively. "It happens sometimes that the children of the Twelve Families are free to marry whom they choose. My parents didn't contract me to anyone either."

"More's the pity..." Daphne Greengrass muttered, too quietly for anyone to hear.

"We're getting a little off-subject here," Hermione interjected. "The point is, if Harry was the Heir of Slytherin... if he was sneaking out at night and attacking the Muggle-born, Ginny would have noticed by now and said something about it."

"Are you sure? She might be working with him too..."

"No." Neville cut Beaumont off. "She wouldn't. And besides, Harry's mother was a Muggle-born. Everybody knows that. And he wouldn't be friends with Hermione here if he were the Heir... Muggle-born, remember?"

"What if it were the Weasley girl, then? Would he help cover it up if it were her?" Beaumont's question was almost an accusation.

"Ginny Potter? The Heir of Slytherin? Beaumont, you're off your gourd if you could possibly think that Ginny could ever attack Muggle-born," Hermione laughed. "I mean... really... Ginny sneaking out late at night to attack lone students after curfew, smearing messages on the walls in blood... and managing to keep everyone in the dark all year?" She snorted at the very thought. "Sounds like the plot of a bad novel."

"Yes, well... we had to ask. Everyone heard him speak Parseltongue..." Daphne said after a moment. "So... do you know anything, then?"

Both Neville and Luna looked to Hermione, who sighed. "Well, we know what the Chamber of Secrets is supposed to be, but not where it is. I found that much out from research in the library. We know that there's supposed to be a monster hidden in it, but not what. We actually got Professor Binns off the Goblin Wars long enough to get him to tell us the legend." She paused thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, "And after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match... while he was in the hospital wing... a house-elf named Dropsy or Droopy or Dobby or something told Harry that the Chamber had been opened before. And someone was killed then, too."

"A house-elf told Potter what, now?" Beaumont asked in surprise. "One of the Hogwart's elves? They don't ever approach the students..."

Daphne Greengrass's eyes were suddenly hooded and thin. "Did you say the elf's name was Dobby?" Hermione nodded, and Daphne continued, "Malfoy has a house-elf named Dobby. Last time my mother and I visited, Draco took great pains to show off his new 'toy' and how much control he had over the little beast."

Neville was almost jumping up and down at this point. "Malfoy! I knew it was him! He's the Heir! He has to be! How else would his elf know to...?"

"No, Neville... Malfoy's not smart enough to keep this quiet. If he was behind the attacks, someone would have heard about it by now and said something. Plus, there's the entire 'I'm a Christmas tree ornament' incident in the second floor corridor," Luna said in a sing-song voice. "I know everyone else thinks that was just a prank by the Weasley twins, but personally I think his being strung up with Crabbe and Goyle was because of the Heir. Either that, or there's something going on between the three of them that I don't particularly like to think about." She stared at Hermione and Neville for a moment before adding, "Now, if it were some other three individuals..."

Everyone around her blushed, even the Slytherins.

"Right... well... I can tell you that it's not Draco. He's as clueless about it as everyone else, it seems. I overheard him talking to Crabbe and Goyle. Well, not talking. Yelling, really," Beaumont said. "They apparently annoyed him by constantly asking him if he knew."

"Yeah, but if it was his house-elf who warned Harry... he has to know something about what's going on, right?" At Neville's question, everyone nodded. "So how do we find out what he knows?"

Guy Beaumont looked to Daphne Greengrass, who shrugged and looked back at Neville. "Guy and I cornered him before coming here. All he knows is that fifty years ago, someone opened the Chamber of Secrets and a Muggleborn girl was killed. They almost closed the school before someone was arrested."

"Who?" Hermione prompted.

"Hagrid, the groundskeeper. He was a fifth year student at the time," Beaumont said. "The head boy caught him with the monster from the Chamber and turned him over to the Aurors."

"Dumbledore apparently stepped in and kept him out of Azkaban, but they still expelled him and broke his wand." Greengrass looked a bit nauseous. "To think that the Headmaster lets a killer stomp around the school like that."

"Hagrid?" The very thought scandalized Hermione. "But... he's never... no... there's no way it was really Hagrid. He wouldn't harm a fly. If Dumbledore kept him on as groundskeeper, it must mean that the Headmaster doesn't believe he's guilty."

"I'm just telling you what I found out from Draco, Granger," Daphne said. "I'm not making it up. Last time the Chamber was opened, Hagrid was arrested."

"I simply won't believe it. It has to be someone else..."

"Yes, well..." Daphne stood, motioning her companion that it was time to leave. "I'll keep my ear out, Neville... if I hear something, I'll get in touch. You do the same, okay?" Neville only nodded. "Nice talking to you again, Nev."

XxxxxxX

Guy Beaumont waited until the two of them were out of the library before turning on Daphne Greengrass. "Okay, tell me again why we're getting chummy with the Gryffs?"

"Because, you brick... Potter is a rising force in this school. You know it, I know it, and everyone but Draco knows it."

"Yeah? And?"

Greengrass sighed. "So if he's going to be so influential, it will be a good idea to be on his good side. Show him and his fellow Gryffs that not all of the snakes are Death Eaters in training."

"Death Eaters in... are you daft? The Death Eaters are gone! You Know Who is dead! Potter killed him, remember? What are you going on about, Death Eaters?" Beaumont asked.

"Haven't you ever asked why it is that Draco has such a mad on for Potter? I mean, beyond being humiliated in a duel by his girl, or whatever happened on the train." She stopped them in the empty hallway, and scanned up and down before speaking again. "He started in on Potter since the moment Scarhead stepped into this school. There's got to be an agenda there, and the only one I can imagine is something connected to the fact that Draco's dad was a Death Eater."

Beaumont nodded. "Yeah... but he was under the Imperius."

Greengrass rolled her eyes. "And if you believe that, I've got a nice swamp in Derbyshire I'm willing to sell you for a song."

XxxxxxX

Later...

He ran as if Satan himself were snapping at his heels.

Since the arrival of his letter and the discovery that he was a wizard and that all those odd events in his childhood meant something, Justin had never been more thankful than now that he had grown up amongst the non-magical. When he didn't have a chance to use his wand, a wizard was useless in a fight because he had no idea what to do. Six years of Exeter, as a run-up to Eton College and then eventually Oxford University... the plan of Justin's life before discovering his magical nature... had included physical education classes.

Physical education classes at Exeter Boarding School meant boxing lessons, among other things like calisthenics and swimming and rugby.

He didn't think about it as he ran... all he knew was that the Gryffindor boy, Weasley, was trying to kill him, and that he made the barest of escapes through the expedience of putting a left jab into the red-headed boy's face. It had worked, and for a moment Justin had been tempted to show Weasley the rest of his boxing knowledge... but then the other boy had started hissing, just like Potter had done at the Dueling Club. There was a strange rustling noise from the darkness, and Justin knew the last place he wanted to be was where he was when the thing making the noise arrived.

So he ran. Ran for his life.

He had never realized before how many empty and disused classrooms there were at Hogwarts. Somewhere in the back of his mind (the part not occupied by running or navigating through the darkened corridor or simply being terrified), he had a vague thought that the population of Hogwarts must have once been much greater than it's current student body.

"You... you, in the painting..." Justin gasped for air. He stumbled to the only portrait in the hall and half-collapsed against the frame. "Please! Can you find a teacher for me! Any teacher. Dumbledore! McGonagall! Anyone!"

The gentleman in the portrait, an older man dressed like a Regency-era nobleman, looked wide-eyed at the Hufflepuff boy, before nodding. "What troubles you, boy?"

"No time... he's still after me, I know it. Just get help." Justin glanced back and ducked just in time to be missed by the line of purple fire that slammed into the painting, shearing it and the man inside of it in half. His eyes bugging out, Justin ran again.

He rounded another corner, not stopping even when he ran completely through the ethereal body of a ghost. Belatedly, he realized it was the Gryffindor knight, Sir Nicholas. As he ran, he heard the spirit say "I say... it's rude to just run through one of us like that... come back here and... oh, Weasley... what are you..." The ghost's words were cut off abruptly, and Justin wondered for a moment what could have shut Sir Nicholas up with such finality.

Justin stumbled down another staircase and fell when he hit the bottom. A chuckle from behind scraped it's way across Justin's nerves as he scrambled back to his feet. The boy gave a quick glance behind him, and turned to run again. There, ahead of him at the end of the hall, was salvation and safety: Dumbledore was walking with a group of other men.

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore!" Justin never felt more relieved in his life to see his headmaster.

XxxxxxX

The Heir of Slytherin stopped, keeping to the shadows at the top of the staircase. Dumbledore... of course, it would be, wouldn't it, he thought to himself. Thinking fast, he turned and hissed a dismissal to his servant. It was dangerous to have the basilisk with him this deep in the castle in any case... he was getting to close to the busier areas... even at this hour, the professors were constantly creeping around the more central areas of Hogwarts, and it wouldn't do for it to be discovered that the Weasley boy was the "Heir". At least not yet.

What to do... what to do... ah... With a smile that looked more predatory than jovial, the Heir snuck to the bottom of the staircase. He waited until the Mudblood who had dared strike him with his hands had almost reached the Headmaster...

XxxxxxX

"And I am telling you, Dumbledore... he is the only suspect! He caused that girl to get killed..." Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, took his green bowler from his head and daubed a green silk handkerchief on his forehead. "I cannot simply sit back and let what has happened happen without some reaction. The public expects their children to be safe, and the ministry cannot simply sit back and let things go." He replaced his handkerchief back in his pocket, gave his Auror escort a quick glance, and put his bowler back on his head. "His record is against him; after all... he was the last person to open the Chamber of Secrets."

Albus Dumbledore took a deep, slow breath through his nose and let it out just as slowly. It was a quick and easy method of calming himself that took far less concentration than Occlumency. "Cornelius, I am not convinced of that. In truth, I never have been."

Fudge visibly rolled his eyes. "Yes, I read the case record. You managed to keep him out of prison, and hired him as your gamekeeper and handyman immediately after his expulsion. You fought the Ministry's investigation into Hagrid the entire way. I assure you, Headmaster... it will be you the public will blame if you hinder us here. The public want someone arrested for these deaths, and the logical person is the last person to open the Chamber."

"He is innocent until proven guilty, Cornelius; innocent until proven guilty. He wasn't convicted of killing anyone then, he won't be now." Dumbledore fumed.

"Yes, I read that as well. He was expelled for keeping a potentially dangerous creature in the castle, against school rules. Well, there won't be any of that sort of folderol this time."

"And I tell you again, Cornelius... I have every reason to believe that the accusations against Hagrid were made solely to throw suspicion off of another student."

Cornelius stopped walking and stared, dumbfounded, at the headmaster. "You think he was framed?" The man gave a cynical chuckle. "By who, Dumbledore? Who would go to all the trouble of framing a sub-literate like your groundskeeper for murder?" He continued walking as Dumbledore never slowed.

"Do you remember Tom Riddle, Cornelius? I do believe you were a student here before he finished." Dumbledore asked.

"Riddle? He was Head Boy my second year." Fudge snorted. "I remember my housemates being rather proud of his being named Head Boy. The first Slytherin Head Boy in nearly twenty years. What does he have to do with the Chamber and the murders?"

"I believe, Cornelius, that it was Tom Riddle and not Rubeus Hagrid that opened the chamber the first time," Dumbledore said slowly. "I believe that it was Tom Riddle who killed that poor girl."

"And what evidence do you have to support that conclusion?"

"I have no true evidence, Cornelius... just a belief. But I do base my belief on actions the man in question took later, long after he left Hogwarts." Dumbledore paused before dropping the figurative bomb on the minister. "Tom Riddle is, of course, the real name of Lord Voldemort." At the sound of the name, the two Aurors and the Minister of Magic all flinched visibly. "If I recall correctly, Cornelius... you were rather chummy with the Head Boy during your second year. He was your Charms tutor, was he not?"

Fudge stared at Dumbledore, his face going from pasty pink to red to fuchsia in less than a second. "And what are you implying, Headmaster?"

"I imply nothing, Minister. I am just making an observation." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I believe that Voldemort opened the Chamber the last time, and that Voldemort killed Myrtle Malone. I am sure that, after the investigation is complete, we will find Voldemort's presence in the cause of the deaths of Argus Filch and Colin Creevey." The headmaster sighed as he witnessed the two fully trained Aurors and the Minister of Magic flinch for a second time.

"You-Know-Who is dead! The Potter boy defeated him eleven years ago! There isn't any possible way he could have killed Filch and the Muggle boy," Fudge yelled.

"I did not say he committed the murders himself. I simply believe that, when this is finished, we will find him involved in some way. What way, I don't know for sure. But I trust that he is involved entirely as much as I trust that Hagrid isn't," Dumbledore proclaimed.

"Yes, well... we shall see..." Fudge said after a long moment. "You have no proof that You-Know-Who is involved at all, much less is somehow reaching out from the grave to kill Squibs and the Muggleborn."

"I must admit that you are correct, Cornelius, as much as I hate doing it." The headmaster smiled, grimly. After a long silence, he added, "And believe me, I do hate it."

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore!"

All four men jumped at the sudden intrusive voice. The two Aurors had their wands drawn in an instant and whirled, looking for a threat. Justin Finch-Fletchley skidded to a sudden stop in front of them, his eyes wide in fear as he realized he was held under two wands.

XxxxxxX

Justin Finch-Fletchley skidded to a sudden stop in front of them, his eyes wide in fear as he realized he was held under two wands. He stared at the wands, truly wondering if he had escaped the frying pan only to fall into the cooking fire.

Dumbledore stepped forward, pressing the Aurors' wand-arms down. "Auror Dawlish, Auror Lumley, Mister Finch-Fletchley here is one of my brightest students. I assure you he's no threat, despite being out in violation of curfew..." He turned to Justin and smiled. "So... Mister Finch-Fletchley... what has you out this late, and why are you so very out of breath?"

The boy took a deep breath. "Thank you, Headmaster..." He leaned over for a moment, leaning on his own knees in order to catch his breath. He looked behind him, only seeing the shadows in the corridor. "He was chasing... the Heir of Slytherin... he was..." He took another deep breath, and suddenly he was floating. Justin straightened up, his breathing getting easier as a feeling of tranquility and peace came over him... it was almost like he was floating.

"The Heir of... Mister Finch... Justin... are you telling me that you were chased by the Heir? You know who it is?" Dumbledore asked.

"He knows who is behind the killings?" Fudge stepped forward and grabbed Justin by the shoulder. "Tell us, boy! Who's after you? Who's been committing murder at Hogwarts?"

Justin nodded to the Minister. No problem there... he was going to tell Professor Dumbledore who was chasing him anyway... the little voice in the back of his head was whispering to him, letting him know what to do and what to say... it was comforting, even, having that voice speaking to him. "I saw his face... Headmaster, I know I was out after curfew... I thought I could mail a letter in time and was..."

"That's not important, boy!" Fudge yelled, shaking Justin by the shoulder. "Who was it? Tell us!"

"Minister, I cannot have you man-handling my students." He gently pulled Justin out of Fudge's grasp. "Now... Mister Finch-Fletchley... please tell us who has been chasing you."

Justin listened to the voice in his head for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, sir. It was Professor Lockhart... he was chasing me. He called himself the Heir of Slytherin... he tried to attack me. I only just got away and ran... it's only luck that I found you, sir."

Justin turned his eyes to the Minister of Magic. "The Heir of Slytherin is Gilderoy Lockhart."

XxxxxxX

The Heir of Slytherin slipped away into the shadows, using his knowledge of the school's secret passages and hidden through-ways to make it to Gryffindor Tower unseen by anyone. As he walked, he chuckled to himself. It was a low, evil sound that would have made anyone who heard it nervous. Well... not killing the Mudblood twit is disappointing, but he served his purpose, and might serve an even bigger one in the future, the Heir thought to himself. An Imperiused servant is more useful than a dead servant, after all. Even if he is a stinking Mudblood.

The thought of what was about to happen to that idiot ponce who called himself a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher caused him to stop in his tracks and literally force himself not to laugh out loud. Serves that queenie bastard right... to think that he and I both attended the same House at this school...

He continued on his way, content that by morning, all attention would be deflected from his host, and that strutting peacock Lockhart would no longer be a constant annoyance. And fewer annoyances were always a good thing.