Monster
The revelation hadn't really sunk in yet, not even over the two weeks since the event.
It’s possible she was in denial - and in this case it wasn't just a river in Egypt.
The small Kenyan Sand Boa she had deemed as an experiment - possibly tainted by the fact that she was the one summoning it. After all, she had never heard of Parseltongue running in the family, but then again, the family had never actually reared a Magical serpent at their cottage. Nanna Tina had said that Grandpa Newt had a baby Runespoor at some point, but he had released it back into the Burkina Faso forests at the request of the respective state's Ministry funded breeding program.
She didn't actually remember what Harry had said to the serpent in the duelling club, which, at the very least, gave her some hope that it was simply a brief spell of something as opposed to an actual recognition of the dark language.
I can't be a Parselmouth - Dad isn't one, Mother isn't one.
Sitting on the roof of the Ravenclaw common room, pacing in small circles around the balcony railing, Steph remained entirely ignorant of the chill carried on the breeze that blew freely up this high, amplifying the effects of the relatively cool day. The remnants of Summer's embrace had passed, and Autumn had well and truly set in with force, leaving the Whomping Willow on the castle grounds entirely devoid of leaves, which had pooled around its base, tempting those crazy enough to go collecting them.
But she was getting side tracked again - something that this potential revelation had seemingly induced with a vengeance, her sudden and otherwise unprovoked drifting thoughts resulting in what amounted to paranoid daydreams in class. It hadn't gone unnoticed either - Flitwick had even called her out in class for not focusing, much to her abject mortification, which had only gotten worse once he held her back on two separate occasions to enquire as to her wellbeing.
Still - she had been spared the attention of her peers for the most part. They were all still caught up on Harry being a Parselmouth, something that had even managed to weasel its way onto the front page of the Daily Prophet. The whispers had only gotten louder after the breakfast when that headline had run.
All of that did not sit well with her mentally.
But how hard could it be to keep it secret - the only one who might know is Padma, after that stunt in their dorm room, or perhaps Daphne, if the girl managed to figure out Steph's reaction. Two people, both of whom wouldn't spread the rumour without a good reason to, and she intended not to give them one.
But this was all ignoring the fact that she might not even be a Parselmouth to begin with, after all, she would need someone else to summon a snake for her if she wanted to actually test if she was a Parselmouth. Her best bet was probably going to her Dad over the break, and getting him to do so - he was perhaps the last person she expected to go bragging about her being able to speak Parseltongue, and even if he did so something, the worst he would do was acquire a Runespoor for the family to rear.
"Oh, hello. Did you need help with your test?"
The stone railing honestly saved her life.
The dreamy voice of the blonde waif of a First Year scared Steph half to death, sending her stumbling backwards - which would have been clear over the balcony, had the railing not pressed into her back and held her in place. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and she only managed to croak out a single word before she really clocked on to what the Firstie had actually said. "What?"
"Sorry to scare you. But I asked if you needed help with your test? Experiment?" Steph blinked owlishly at the girl, and did a brief sweep of her- were those... Corks on her necklace?.. Plum earrings? So caught up on the accessories, Steph didn't notice how the girl was simply not wearing shoes, even in the autumn chill.
"..Experiment?" The panic still burned through her system, and she only managed another croaked response, watching as this utterly bizarre First Year girl nodded her head almost serenely.
"I heard you talking about an experiment when I was down in the Common Room. No one else seemed to hear it, so I came up here to verify that it wasn't just the Wrackspurts." Steph felt herself screech to a dreadful stop. Had she been speaking aloud? Had she just outed herself from sheer stress alone?
Her panic then came to a sudden and abrupt stop. Hang on - no one else heard it? And.. What the hell were Wrackspurts?
"Who.. Are you?" Swallowing, Steph tried to stare into the silver eyes that look back at her, but found herself immediately slipping into their depths at an alarming rate, as if she had suddenly found herself in the middle of a body of quicksand that existed only in her mind. Twisting her head, she ripped her gaze from this Firstie's, staggering away, even as the young girl gave a hum.
"Oh - I didn't realise I was doing that, sorry. I'm Luna, Luna Lovegood." Grimacing, Steph clutched her forehead with her left hand, and her grimace turned into a full-on wince as a splitting headache crashed through her head with alarming speed. Her right hand found the railing, and Steph practically held herself upright as her question was posited. Somewhat out of breath to spare her head the pain, Steph only spoke as many words as she had to for her point to get across clearly.
"Lovegood? Like.. The Quibbler Lovegood?" Luna gave a dreamy smile from her spot in the corner of Steph's eyes.
"Oh yes, Daddy is the Quibbler's editor. He asked me to see if anyone was interested in the paper."
The Quibbler was.. Not a can of worms she was going to open in her current state. In fact, it might have been because of her state that she even entertained the offer that Luna had made in the first place. Looking at Luna, and being very careful not to look into those silver eyes again, Steph tilted her head a little. "Why do you want to help me?"
"It would be most interesting. I've not met someone so talented, nor someone so infested with Wrackspurts." Ignoring the latter comment, Steph bit her lip, before tilting her head at Luna. It wouldn't hurt for her to ask, not given that the Firstie seemed to know already. Not to mention, it would be hard for anyone to take anything she said at face value.
Scarcely believing she was entertaining the idea, Steph suppressed her groan and dropped her voice an octave, speaking just loud enough for the other girl to hear.
"Do you know anywhere we could test this in private?"
"Hm - the come and go room could be a good place. Not many people know about it." Frowning, but choosing not to comment on the double barrelled, and frankly nebulous 'Come and Go room', Steph gave a sigh and a gentle nod.
"Right - whatever. We can go there."
"Oh - I don't mean to be pushy, but would you mind summoning my shoes? I seem to have misplaced them. I suspect Nargles are responsible." Steph lowered her gaze, and lo and behold, found the girl was wearing only the white socks of the school uniform. Ignoring how this girl seemed to know she was capable of the charm, she flicked her wand into her hand, an action she was finally beginning to get down. Steph gave a slight grin and jabbed her wand at the staircase.
"Accio Luna's shoes."
There was silence for a little bit, before a shout of alarm preceded a loud, yet clearly dulled thump, as if a door was slammed against a wall somewhere inside the common room. It was at that point that Steph cringed, just as another shout of alarm came up the staircase, itself muffled by the door up to the roof, which shortly after bursting open, was catapulted clear off its hinges.
The reason was clear - for the shoes themselves didn't come up the stairs. Instead, it was a rather sizable trunk that came zipping up the staircase and was sent careening towards the two girls. Steph only had enough time to drag Luna down, even as the other girl waved her own wand to cast the unlocking charm - which sprung the lid of the trunk open just in time for a pair of shoes to fall from it, one landing upon each of their heads, before coming to a neat landing in Luna's lap.
Steph's head flicked over her shoulder, and she barely made out the name 'CHANG' stamped on the back of the trunk, before it went careening into the abyss beneath Ravenclaw tower. It evidently had enough velocity to shoot clear over the gap and crash into the stone wall of another building, bouncing off and sending a mix of books and clothes absolutely flying, before the whole contents fell down deeper and deeper into the canyon that was ultimately a path to the Black Lake.
Steph swallowed, hissing as she winced in realisation that they were probably in trouble with someone - IF they got caught. Just as Luna pulled on her shoes, Steph grabbed her hand, and dragged her down the other staircase, even as hurried footsteps came up the other one, following the path of destruction. She was not taking the heat for this.
Horrifyingly - Steph had been right.
And wrong too, she supposed.
But the facts were very clear - in fact, they were so clear that they were audible. She could feel her tongue fluttering and rolling in an unnatural way as the Cobra, one that looked almost identical to the creature Malfoy had summoned in that first duelling club session (not that there had been a second one after Lockhart had been so thoroughly humiliated), had bowed before her at her orders. It had little in the way of personality, and indeed it behaved almost like Luna, its eyes sweeping the Come and Go room with starry eyed amazement.
"Kneel before me, noble serpent."
It had taken a second for the creature to obey, but it had done so without argument, spreading its hood, and curling into a deep bow. "I await your orders, speaker."
"Finite." With a single motion, Steph disintegrated the serpent, but spent several seconds staring at the spot on the ground where its entire existence had been. Her wand arm gently lowered back to her side, her fingers slipping the wood back into its holster with the aid of the charms on the dragonhide, but the girl herself stayed deadly still, even as Luna slowly stepped up beside her, joining her in staring at the same spot on the floor.
"Just because you can speak the language of the snakes, doesn't make you evil." Luna's response was clearly meant to be leading, but Steph didn't have it in her to entertain the younger girl's machinations. Instead, without any pomp or circumstance, Steph turned for the door, her voice quiet and almost defeated, but hopefully uncompromising - the last thing she wanted to do now was argue with one of her few friends in Ravenclaw.
"Lets.. get back.."
Were they friends? They had just met after all, and Steph had immediately defenestrated someone's trunk to get the girl back her shoes, and in turn, Luna had helped Steph learn that she was more than she originally thought. She supposed that was good enough for friends, as far as this frankly strange Firstie was concerned.
Luna brokered no argument thankfully, and in short order the duo was making their way down the hallways that lead back to the Ravenclaw tower, with Luna staying silent as Steph stewed in her mind, trying to figure out just how she should really feel about the revelation. Other than freaked out and panicked.
Rip, Tear.. Tear and Tear and Rip and Rend.
Her neck twitched, and her head jerked upwards to the right, the motion entirely involuntary and deeply disorienting. It brought her to an abrupt stop, and her left hand searched for support, the raven-haired Scamander heiress stumbling to the wall and sliding a little bit of the way down it as disorientation flooded through her system. Luna's voice, now trembling with concern, sounded a thousand miles away, as if it were spoken beneath the water. "Stephanie?"
Tear.. Tear and Rend.. Rip and Tear and Kill....
Her neck twitched backwards, her skin crawled with a thousand unseen creatures - her bones felt WRONG, as if they had been reorganised improperly, like someone had replaced them at random. Her head screamed and her body felt as if it were about to collapse upon itself. Her blood was wrong, it was foreign. It had been replaced without her consent, should be boiling, boiling, screaming, and boiling.
Someone was screaming - and it took her a minute to realise it was she who was screaming, her throat raw and angry as agony coursed through her veins. Her eyes flew at random - squeezed shut so tightly that it felt as if her eyeballs would explode with any more pressure, and open so wide that they might fall out a moment after. Luna was crouched before her, hands trembling in unfamiliar frustration, wringing once and twice and thrice - the girl had no clue what to do, and was clearly out of her depth.
Steph's head swung backwards as her back arched, and in doing so it met the wall hard.
Blackness.
..
.
...
..
Her eyes opened again, flooded with tears - and Stephanie found herself on the floor, with Luna clutching at her shoulder. No - that wasn't Luna, Luna was over by the window.
The girl was wearing green, and the moment her eyes focused a little more, Steph took in the sight of Daphne Greengrass clutching her shoulder, naked worry in her gaze. She was saying something, but Steph couldn't make the words out - and so she opened her mouth to say so.
Mistake.
She just about managed to shove Daphne away before she retched, bringing up lunch as she did so. The Greengrass heiress backpedalled so fast it might have been amusing, had Steph not been concerned more with other matters. It was only once, but her gut wrenched and knotted itself together over and over, so much so that the agony brought her eyes closed once again.
She had no clue how long it took, but when she next opened her eyes, she was greeted by the almost amusing sight of Harry leading the teachers towards her in a sprint. She gave a weak laugh at the sight of Albus Dumbledore running as fast as he could, holding the bottom of his robes up like it were a dress, and he the very elderly belle of the ball, but the motion sent another jab of pain through her. Upon the next raise of her head, she found the Matron of the Hospital wing crouching next to her, her back unpacked and a dozen shining potions in vials within.
Madame Pomfrey was uttering murmured instructions, ones that Steph couldn't comprehend. Something was jabbed in her mouth, and her nose was suddenly pinched, her head forcibly tilted back by the same motion - how could she not swallow whatever had been poured into her mouth?
She barely had time to comprehend how foul it tasted before consciousness left her.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood in the Hospital Wing with a deep frown hidden beneath his beard. The events of the evening had been disturbing, to say the very least. The Hospital wing had started the evening having only one patient, a young Gryffindor player whose left arm's bones had been vanished by Gilderoy in a decidedly ill-advised attempt at healing magic.
And yet it had ended the evening with four.
Ms Clearwater and Mr Creevey had been petrified by something. Something which had come from the Chamber of Secrets, something that had been controlled by 'The Heir'.
It was clear that what he had suspected was true. Tom was still alive - still out there. Yes, young Harry Potter had faced Quirrell in the Chamber last spring, and had utilised his mother’s protection to kill the Defence Teacher, but the comment about the shade of Tom living on was something that Albus had taken at face value. The boy had been scared and not a little traumatised, so he had given the situation careful consideration, and had even reviewed the memory of the situation.
But there was real difference between possessing a Professor in order to use him as little more than a flesh suit, and having the ability to infiltrate Hogwarts with the capacity to command whatever creature had struck down poor Myrtle Warren all those years ago. Even after her death and return, Myrtle had not spoken about what had actually killed her all those years ago - and using Legilimency on a ghost was simply impossible.
Ah, but if that was possible, so many mysteries may have been brought to a close. The location of Rowena's Diadem, who had killed the Dark Witch Darquesse, where his socks kept disappearing to, the identity of the creature in the Chamber - perhaps even where it was.
Maybe even who had killed Ariana.
It was perhaps pure luck that it had not been two corpses that lay in the Hospital wing. After all, the creature that had struck fifty years ago had killed Myrtle Warren, not petrified her. Examining the object in his hands, Albus gave a small hum of disappointment - poor Mr Creevey's camera was well and truly done for. Whatever he had looked at through it had cast the brunt of its power unto the camera, and perhaps diluted the effect, which would explain how he had survived the encounter.
As for how Ms Clearwater had survived, such was beyond him, but it could have been anything from the windows upon the wall, to the small mirror that had been the source of the shattered glass on the floor when young Harry and Ms Greengrass had found them.
In fact - he had followed Harry with Poppy and Minerva to the place that had been described to them when he had heard the screaming.
And that brought him to the final resident of the Hospital Wing.
Stephanie Scamander was in decidedly poor condition for having absolutely nothing wrong with her.
But Ms Lovegood had said that she had been in the halls when she had begun to twitch and writhe in an apparent seizure, screaming her lungs out as blood had seeped from her nostrils, and, perhaps most disturbingly, from her eyes. Poor Ms Lovegood had herself, quite understandably, almost been traumatised by the sight of her new friend crying streams of blood, especially with the fate of her mother in mind. Poppy had managed to stabilise Stephanie with relative ease, and had given Ms Lovegood a calming draught, but the simple fact it had occurred in the first place was cause for concern.
It was only a small mercy that the Matron hadn't actually managed to diagnose the cause of the ailment, for that could have been an abject disaster. The fiasco was likely to do with her nature as a Parselmouth - for Ms Lovegood had divulged such to him with much reluctance - and her growing maturity as a witch. For as long as possible, Albus had to keep Stephanie Scamander as just that - a simple Ravenclaw.
Not just for the betterment of the greater good, but for her too.
Hopefully, her body wouldn't try to reject itself any further.
Waving his hand, he drew the curtain around her bed closed, and from his sleeve withdrew the wand he had spent so many years as the master of. The Elder Wand had been something truly special when he had first set his hands upon it, but now, with many years behind him and a greater appreciation for life, he could truly see why the story of the Three Brothers considered the Death Stick a curse. He only hoped that the person he eventually passed it to would continue the legacy of allowing the wand to slip out of the limelight, and to let it return to obscurity.
With a soft sigh, he levelled the wand at the sleeping form of Stephanie Scamander, sedated by the dreamless sleep potion that Poppy had managed to get down her throat, and intoned a spell he disliked using on someone so young and undeserving. He would have to be careful, not to dislodge anything or damage her mind in any way, but he did still need to see what had led up to the situation which he had arrived at too late to properly discern.
"Legillimens."
She awoke with a headache.
And fuck was it a bad one.
The sensation was akin to someone having split her head open with an axe and rummaged around inside her head with almost reckless abandon. The pain focused to a point behind her eyes, and with a groan to release some of the pent-up agony, Steph pinched the bridge of her nose, just as the curtain next to her was yanked backwards.
She almost yelped in alarm, but a simple observation revealed she was in the Hospital wing, and so it was with only a soft squeak of surprise that she took in the sight of the Matron of the Hospital wing looking down at her with an almost sour expression. A simple question was asked before the Matron intruded any further. "Miss Scamander. Are you decent?"
Steph managed barely a nod, before the Matron stepped closer and waved her wand over her body - and it was at that moment that she abruptly realised that someone had changed her into a medical gown. Suddenly, she felt a lot less comfortable under the soft sheets of the Hospital ward, even with the screeching headache.
"Hm. Bad migraine, but your body seems fine otherwise." Before she could even blink, Madame Pomfrey had plucked a blue vial from her bedside and offered it to her, already uncorked. Unsure as to if she was being offered the vial to drink herself, or if the Matron was to pour it down her throat, Steph simply parted her lips a little - and barely a second later, the decidedly sour potion was down her throat, immediately reducing the throbbing in her head.
"Right - that should do you for now. I'll have a Hogwarts Elf bring you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You can call one of them if you need anything." Steph blinked owlishly at the Matron as she turned to step away, only to stop and give the Ravenclaw girl a look that seemed to inquire as to the problem. "Yes, Ms Scamander?"
".. What happened to me?.. Will it happen again? How long am I going to be here?" The Matron sighed at the fusillade of questions, and laced her fingers together, picking her words carefully.
"I do not know what caused this reaction, nor do I know if it will happen again. Do not worry, however, Ms Scamander. I'll be doing my best to ensure that I find out exactly what happened." Turning to leave, and seemingly ignoring Steph's growing horror as she realised that the Matron didn't have a clue, she caught herself and answered the final question. "As for the duration of your stay, I will let you leave once I am satisfied you will be ok. But four days spent in bed unconscious is enough for me to confine you to the Hospital wing for another two at least."
Steph blinked owlishly once more as the Matron flicked her wand, parting the curtain to her right and exposing the large windows at the end of the ward as to let in some sunlight, but also keeping her privacy intact as the left curtains remained firmly drawn. Whilst appreciated, Steph didn't get to express that, more caught on the Matrons words.
Four days?
She stared for a little bit, somewhat lost. What the hell had caused her to have such a severe reaction as to be kept under for four days?
It was only once her breakfast appeared on the table next to her with a small pop that Steph was startled out of her pondering. Half choking on her words, she managed to grab the Elf's attention before it vanished. "W-Wait, I need a Hogwarts Elf to ask Daphne Greengrass for the work I missed out on."
A soft chuckle passed her lips as she looked at the breakfast of fruit and porridge that sat on the table next to her bed, imagining Daphne's probably exasperated expression, as the first hint that Steph was awake would come from an Elf asking for missed schoolwork.
She was, after all, a Ravenclaw.
"An Elf."
The voice of Daphne Greengrass carried a decidedly unamused tone as she entered the Hospital Wing over a day after Steph had sent her little elven messenger, and she couldn't help the smile that broke across her lips as she turned her head towards the approaching footsteps. Barely a second later, the curtain was pulled back, and Daphne stared down at her with an expression caught between relief and frustration, with Harry poking his head over the blonde's shoulder wearing a much more welcoming smile.
"Well - I couldn't come myself." Steph gave Daphne a cheeky look, and the blonde girl gave a huff of frustration, folding her arms, even as a smile broke through the façade. The Slytherin's head turned away, dipping down as to hide the smile, even as Harry stepped forwards to put the blonde girl behind him. "Hey Harry. What's the news around the school?"
Harry's smile flickered a little bit, draining away slowly. "You.. Didn't hear about the attacks?"
The smile on her lips shrivelled up, lips twitching into a short line. "Attacks? What attacks?"
The Boy Who Lived looked pained, visibly conflicted on his next recourse to action, even as Steph pressed her question again, putting a bit of steel into her words. "What attacks, Harry."
"These attacks." Daphne's voice was the prelude to the Slytherin witch raising her hand and dragging aside the curtain separating Steph and the rest of the Hospital wing. The ravenette's stomach immediately sank at the sight before her - in the two beds next to her were two bodies.
A young-looking boy lay in one bed, his hands raised as if he were in the middle of taking a photo with a camera that was entirely absent from his hands. His red accented robes marked him as a Gryffindor, but she couldn't see his face from this angle, removing any chance she had may have had of identifying him, no matter how remote.
But the other one she recognised.
For laying in the bed next to her was the stiff form of Penelope Clearwater.
"P-.. Penny?" The croak of the blonde girl's name went unanswered, even with the interruption caused by the lump in her throat. Throwing aside the duvet, and now absently aware she was in pyjamas that she hadn't been wearing last time she actually paid attention to her clothing situation, she pushed past her friends and reached out to the frozen form of the Ravenclaw Prefect.
The first thing she actually noticed was the most important thing.
Penelope Clearwater was not dead.
Her eyes were wide, as if she had noticed something particularly terrifying and was in the midst of attempting to react to the situation when whatever it was had struck her down. But behind those eyes was life, clear intelligence. They weren't dull eyes, and nor was the skin of her raised hand cold - instead it was as warm as the flesh of Steph's own hand that clasped her friend's own.
"They're not dead - they're petrified. Dumbledore doesn't know what by, and the Prophet is harassing him over it." Daphne, ever politically minded, not that Steph particularly cared in that moment (or any other for that matter), set the scene with her commentary. Like it or not, the Prophet was little more than a gossip rag, but it had no competitors for publishing in the Wizarding World, as much as Luna and her father might have fancied The Quibbler as a rival.
Luna..
"Did either of you tell Luna I was okay?" Harry nodded at the question.
"I did - Daphne was more concerned with scouring the Library for what could have had the effects that.. Well." With a half-hearted gesture, Harry waved his hand at the forms of Penny and the Gryffindor boy. "But she did come up with something important."
Steph turned her head back to look at the duo, and noticed how Daphne seemed to stand a little straighter at the compliment, even if her own words tried to dispel some of the praise. "It's potentially flawed, but there's a tenuous link to be had."
Harry scoffed - actually scoffed at the blonde girl's words. "You don't give yourself enough credit Daph. Dumbledore thinks it’s worth looking into."
The blonde girl flushed a little, but also seemed to preen under the praise, and Steph had to wonder if that was much the same as she had looked in the compartment on the train that Summer. At least she had far better taste in boys than Steph did apparently. "Thank you. Well - as Harry pointed out, Professor Dumbledore seemed to think that there was a link between the message-"
"Message?" Daphne paused for a second, before nodding.
"The attacker left a message. Professor Dumbledore had it taken down before anyone else saw it because it was provocative. It read 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, Enemies of the heir, Beware.'" Clearing her throat, Daphne gestured at the two petrified students. "The Chamber of Secrets is associated with Salazar Slytherin, and both the victims were Muggleborns."
Steph looked down at Penny, feeling her teeth grinding themselves together. Someone had targeted the girl she looked up to like a sister, simply because she was Muggleborn. Because she didn't have a family tree that looked like a fucking ladder.
Her gaze fixed on the petrified fear on Penny's face, Steph ground out her next words. "How can I help."
She didn't see their reactions, but she could easily imagine Daphne and Harry trading looks between each other, before Daphne's voice spoke, tone somewhat cautious. "I will be asking my father and mother about potions and spells that could cause these effects. Harry will be asking Lord Black-"
"Sirius, Daph."
The sigh that left the blonde girl was the only pause in her words, almost entirely glossing over Harry's almost tired sounding interruption. "-Sirius about any of the more esoteric curses or dark artefacts that could cause the same. We were hoping you could handle the creature approach, given your.. Unique position."
"Done." Giving Penny's hand a firm squeeze, if only to feel something from the petrified girl, Steph uttered a promise under her breath. "I'll figure this out, Penny."
It had been strange, waking up at home after being at Hogwarts for so long - most of her last 18 months had been spent sleeping in the bunk bed in her dorm room, with only a brief break over the summer where she had actually stayed in the room, she had grown up in.
Emphasis on 'grown up in'.
It had been somewhat to her embarrassment that she had stepped foot back into her room at the start of the Christmas break, and in doing so taken in the sight of the Harpies posters that decorated the Walls. Next to them sat her cork board, with various pages and sheets pinned against the material, a magical picture of her with her parents in Giza tacked on to the edge of the board, having been placed there shortly before the start of her second year at Hogwarts after their summer trip to Egypt. Beneath it, the small succulent on her desk was thriving, even as the Pothos vine wound its way around her desk and cork board, branching out to grasp anything it could.
Her bed was still under the window, with the nightstand still in that same haphazard position that she had left it, but clearly Mifsby had made it up - she would have to thank the elf. She probably worked just as hard as Steph's Dad when it came to the animals, but also took care of most of the menial household chores.
She wasn't meant to do magic outside of school, but that rule meant nothing to her - she was pureblood for one, and on a magical estate. So, the swish of her wand was entirely intentional, as the skylight window flicked itself open just as the bay window next to her bed did the same, letting a refreshing breeze in, thankfully without the chill that would otherwise have come with the snowy conditions.
But she had two jobs, so the chance for relaxation was minimal over the holidays. It was only two weeks long anyway, and Steph had allowed a day to burn away.
..
But she didn't need to tell her dad she was a Parselmouth. Mother didn't need to know everything, despite how she seemed to believe otherwise. Besides, the revelation would probably go back to Niobe again, and that would probably leave a dark shadow over the holiday.
She..
She didn't want to ruin Christmas. Not this one.
She would ask Dad about the attacks, but the Parselmouth reveal would be later. When she needed to. It was a decidedly dark trait, after all, given that the last Parselmouth had been.. Well.
Not exactly a great person.
With her decision made - and ignoring how it was the easy way out - Steph distracted herself with the task she had sworn herself to. In the furtherance of such, she sat herself down at her desk and picked up her dog eared and much-loved copy of Fantastic Beasts and set it upon the desk in question. With a heavy breath that betrayed her insecurities, she flicked the cover open and looked at the first entry.
This was going to be a long task.
But if she had any suspicions, she was perhaps in the best position to ask.
The return to Hogwarts was troublesome.
The return date had actually been pushed back, resulting in a longer than usual break that stretched through January, into early February. It had been a surprise to many families, and even to the Ministry of Magic themselves, as the events of New Years Day came to be public knowledge.
Another Petrification.
Another two Muggleborns students lay in the Hospital wing so still they could be mistaken for the dead, and the parents of Hogwarts had raised all sorts of hell at the Ministry of Magic, apparently enough that there had been a three week long period where Aurors had apparently scoured the halls and questions those students who remained over the break, looking for the perpetrator of the attacks. The Legendary Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - the illustrious Lady Bones Regnant - had led the search, and Steph had thought that would be it.
But she had found nothing.
Not even a hint of the creature or person causing the trouble. They had even gone into the Student dormitories - (despite all the grumbling that would have caused with the Wizengamot) and had apparently removed some rather suspect items from some of the elder Slytherin's dorms - but it had amounted to almost an entirely pointless search. Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished, and the Prophet had been filled with headlines about how Lucius Malfoy was calling for the defunding of the DMLE or the replacement of key members of its staff if their tax galleons went to pointless raids.
That Lucius himself had been raided over the Christmas break was nothing short of ironic, given that the man had been apparently fined for some of the artefacts sitting in his house.
But Steph couldn't help but feel a little useless.
She had read Fantastic Beasts cover to cover - had even consulted her father on the possibility of it being any number of creatures, including even the potential of a Gorgon, although they had reportedly been extinct for two thousand years at that point. It was better than her other guess - a Catoblepas was a horrifying creature to have even considered, but even then, their gazes alone were enough to cause death, even if one didn't meet its gaze.
She had briefly considered a demon to be responsible, but a quick inquiry with Daphne and her father had quickly seen Cyrus Greengrass not only dismiss the whole notion of it being a demon, but also had earned them both a stern warning to never touch that field of magic. The written warning that the owl had carried had specifically said that not even You-Know-Who had been crazy enough to dabble with demons, and that two schoolgirls had no business doing such either.
And to prove how stern that warning was, he had written out the Dark Lord's full name. The V word.
So now she knew how to spell that at least.
And so it was on an evening, late in February, that Steph found herself in the library once again, trawling through the restricted section with Daphne for anything even remotely approaching what they were looking for. The passes they had used, whilst good enough for the Librarian, still felt somewhat fraudulent, given that she had sworn to Flitwick that neither she, nor Daphne, would do nothing worthy of disciplinary action.
Steph had been forced to remind Daphne of that twice as her eyes had drifted towards some of the more suspicious looking books.
"What about a Cockatrice?" Steph looked up from her book, and in her delirium, it took her a few seconds to register the question and give a groan of frustration, pressing her forehead against the bookcase in front of her.
"No - it can't be a Cockatrice. There's good reason those things were hunted down to near single digit numbers, and each of them kept in very secure reserves." Snapping shut the book that had been more of a dive into how to ritually bind creatures to a witch or wizard, as opposed to an actual creature compendium, Steph pinched the bridge of her nose to try and bring her eyes back to focus as she spoke. "They're about as tame as a rabid dragon, and they're about as aggressive as a Fiendfyre in a gunpowder storage room. They're one of a handful of creatures slated for ICW extermination outside of their habitats. Even if it could be one, there would be an absolute bloodbath, not four petrified students."
"Then what - we figured it can't be any creature, not even a Gorgon." Daphne sighed, and slipped a red covered book back onto the shelf with what looked almost like revulsion - and if Daphne was openly revolted by the contents of a book, then Steph shuddered to imagine what had been within it. "I followed up with my Father about the Mirror of Erised, and apparently the last owner of it was Dumbledore. Although he reported it had been destroyed at the end of our first year."
".. Could a bit of it survive, maybe? Diluted power?" Daphne paused, a frown slowly creeping onto her lips.
".. Maybe, but it doesn't quite fit the profile. Apparently its meant to create a drawn-out death by losing one’s self within the mirror, not cause a petrification. Medusa's head was apparently confirmed to still be in the possession of the Greek Ministry." Daphne gave a small groan as she stretched. "It is getting late - we really should get back to our dorms. I don't feel too comfortable staying out this late."
"Right, well this was almost a waste of time." Sliding the book back onto the shelf where she had gotten it from, Steph frowned very briefly, the flickering expression deepening into a far more thoughtful frown. Seemingly in the moment before Daphne spoke, Steph uttered a simple question that they had all seemingly overlooked. "How does it get around? Like, if it’s an artefact, then it needs to be small enough to be concealed from even the Aurors, although I don't know how much of a trace it would leave... But if it is a creature - well, none of the ones suggested are small. A cockatrice is the size of a Dragon, and it’s one of the smaller ones."
Daphne stared at Steph for a moment before her voice sank a few octaves as she started making for the halls. Steph hadn't understood the whole idea of walking whilst they talked the first time, but Daphne had clued her in - it was something that her father had ingrained in her. The sound of their footsteps covered most of their voices, allowing their conversations to stay mostly private.
You could take the man out of Slytherin, but you couldn't take the Slytherin out of the man, it seemed.
"I had thought about that. If it’s an artefact, it is going to leave a dark trace. Dark magic does that – it’s like a stain. Once it is used, it really can't be cleared away without some strong light magic. It’s the reason why spells like the Patronus are so effective against Dementors. It’s basically pure light magic being used against the embodiment of pure darkness." The girl paused for a second as they went through a doorway, letting Steph fall back into step with her before she continued. "But the Aurors found nothing, which means either it doesn't leave a trace, or it’s a very powerful witch or wizard who knows how to clean the scene of the crime."
Daphne ducked up a set of stairs, taking the steps quickly - the library annex was particularly annoying to get out of now days, given that the Weasley twins had ended up turning a corridor into a swamp that stubbornly refused to be cleared away by anything other than manual labour. Steph couldn't feel much pity for Filch, however, as the bastard had spent the morning after issuing threats that any detentions with him would involve clearing said swamp.
The only issue being that was one of two enclosed corridors out of the Library annex, and with the weather, neither of them was anxious to trudge through a foot and a half of snow to get to their dorms two minutes faster.
"Then what about a creature? The charms on my Grandfathers suitcase were pretty intensive, it’s not something that just gets missed. Whatever it is, it’s using Hogwarts to get around, not a student." Daphne frowned at Steph's words, before slowing in her stride for a second. The ravenette matched the blonde's reduced pace, giving her a curious frown.
"Pipes. Neville mentioned that the plumbing of Hogwarts was advanced enough to have a self-watering, Greenhouse."
"I-.. Plumbing... Of course, Hogwarts has extensive plumbing, and I'd wager it’s pretty expansive given the size and age of the castle. But how is it getting out of the pipes into the castle?" Daphne gave her a look that was almost chastising.
"The bathrooms all have large, grated sections - I'd wager there's got to be some way for someone to get in to clear any blockages or clean them out. Ergo, there's an exit for our creature, if it is one. But it would have to be fairly familiar with castle to get around, and by that logic it’s got to be also old enough for the wards to not pin it as a new threat to the castle." Steph paused for a second, and felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. She was an idiot.
Wheeling around, Steph grabbed Daphne's shoulder with a firm grip. "I'm a Parselmouth."
"I-.. What?"
"I'm a Parselmouth. And I know what it is - I'm a fucking IDIOT." Daphne's eyes widened a little bit, before her brows furrowed as she tried to process the same information, even as Steph was saying the same words aloud. "It uses the pipes, its associated with Slytherin, it’s got to be old, older than anyone here. It's not flagged as a threat to the castle, so it was probably put here by Slytherin himself, or someone related to him."
"You can't be suggesting..."
"It has to be a Basilisk, it’s the only thing that could even possibly survive that long. Their life spans in the wild are upwards of four hundred years. In captivity, that could easily double, if not more." Daphne was quiet for a few seconds, before nodding slowly.
"Ok - if it is a Basilisk, then how hasn't it killed everyone it’s come across?" Steph furrowed her brow, jerking her head to the left and quickening her pace into a half jog, half power walk.
"I'm working on that, but I know at least that Colin saw it through his camera. Regardless, we need to get this to a teacher - someone." As they pushed through the door onto the enclosed bridge between the buildings, Steph felt a jolt run down her spine, one not caused by the chilly draught blowing down the halls, all whilst a soft whisper creep into her head.
Kill.. Tear.. Rend... Rip and rend and kill and rend and tear... Feast and devour, slaughter and delight.
Fuck... Fuck, fuck, fuck... Not now... Not NOW, of all times!
"Daph.." Her throat felt hoarse - and she could feel the panic creeping through her head, eating away at her rational thought and replacing it with panic.
"Steph..?" Daphne's voice contained concern as the raven-haired girl lost speed, stumbling to the left and finding the wall with her hand, planting her right upon her forehead to abate the encroaching headache. A soft groan of pain escaped Steph's lips as Daphne repeated her name with more urgency, and just a slight creeping hint of fear. "Steph!"
"Daph.. It's out. It's hunting." The raven-haired girl allowed herself to slide down the wall all the way, up until she came to a stop upon the ground. At the very least, she wasn't having a seizure this time..
Small mercies.
Hunt and track and stalk and kill... Rend and ravage and stalk and slay...
Despite that, the pain was overwhelming, and it rendered otherwise dextrous fingers clumsy. Fumbling for her satchel, Steph eventually relinquished the attempt and inhaling through the pain, whispering an instruction.
"My.. Book. Page.. Two hundred and something. The green tab." Daphne took a second, but hands went to her satchel and retrieved Fantastic Beasts, flicking to the green tab, and finding the page on the Basilisk within a handful of seconds, before offering the book to Steph, setting it in her lap. It didn't take much to find the quill in her bag, and with an almost clumsy motion - but not quite, for she didn't let herself fuck up marking in this book - Steph found, and subsequently underlined the pertinent phrase, lest Harry go all Gryffindor should something go wrong.
The Basilisk flees before the crowing of the Rooster, whose cries are fatal to it.
Underneath that, the ravenette Ravenclaw simply wrote one word - Plumbing.
Then, next to it, she inscribed the date, 28.2.1993, then her somewhat unfortunate initials - at least if she were muggle - SS.
Offering the quill to the other girl, Daphne matched the action - DG 28-2-1993 - before handing the quill back to the raven haired girl. It was a simple move, but it marked that they had both agreed upon the judgement. Both had been there for the decision, and they concurred in that moment.
And with that, Steph shoved the quill in the fold, allowing the top of the feather to poke out, before closing the book with it in place - hopefully marking clearly what page should be considered. In any other book, such would be unnecessary, but with the sheer number of sheets, tabs and other markers poking out, the only unique one would be the feather of the quill.
Kill.. Kill kill kill, death and prey, hunting, stalking.. Kill, kill, kill...
"Is that it? No plan? We just waltz right towards our almost inevitable deaths?" Daphne's voice sounded a little strained, not that Steph could blame the girl. It wasn't every day that you faced possible death from any angle. But in that moment, Steph couldn't really think of anything better, and so she pushed herself up slowly.
"We have to - even with magic, we'll freeze here." Her head throbbed, and she nearly stumbled over, before finding the wall with her elbow. "And besides, I doubt that whoever is guiding it will simply let us wait them out. If we back track, then we corner ourselves."
Daphne dug through her pockets, before withdrawing a small, hot pink muggle compact mirror - and in the process shooting Steph a withering look. The message was clear - a breath about this, and she was dead.
She chose not to argue with that, not that she was in much of a position to do so. Half stumbling, half shambling, Steph made her way down the hallway, using the wall for support most of the way, only to have Daphne offer her a shoulder to support her own weight. If she hadn't been so out of it, Steph would have been humiliated.
Their silent agreement seemed to be that Daphne would lead the duo through the castle just enough to find somewhere to hunker down safely for the night. By the morning, the predator stalking them would hopefully return to the Chamber of Secrets, and they would have been able to run to Dumbledore and explain everything.
They just had to make it to a cupboard or a classroom - anywhere.
And then Daphne Greengrass went deathly still under her right arm.
She barely noticed at first, until the blonde girl failed to take her next step forwards, and in doing so, very nearly sent the pair of them crashing to the ground. Steph gave a whimper of desperation and pain intertwined by the sudden jarring of her head, and barely managed to prevent herself from again cracking her skull against the walls or floor of Hogwarts by bracing her arms. It wasn't pretty, but she and Daphne both went tumbling to the floor, but only one of them moved, and in doing so, she took in the sight of Daphne Greengrass, her eyes wide in alarm as her right hand still clutched the now shattered pocket mirror.
A hushed plea passed her lips. "No... Please no..."
"Now what do we have here... Most interesting.."
The voice was silky smooth, and with an almost curious lint to it. It was clearly masculine, older than her own by a few years, but seemingly not much more than that. It almost sounded like the voice of a Prefect, it had that casual authority to it - and the aura of someone who clearly enjoyed said authority. Despite that, she couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the nearly deafening roaring chant in her head.
KILL, KILL, KILL, LET ME KILL MASTER, REND AND RIP AND TEAR, FEAST AND DINE
"Now, now Meretseger. These are... Not our prey." The voice shifted, its previous smoothness slipping into cruel loathing - a sneer audible in its tone. "This idiotic blood traitor host can't do anything right."
It took a moment, but she finally clocked on, just as the thunderous THOOM of a massive object hitting the floor behind her filled the air - and Steph almost had enough spare willpower to curse herself. It had been on the ceiling, propping itself up using its tail, which had probably been out of Daphne's initial view. When the girl had looked down at her compact, she had looked right at the Basilisk, through the mirror, and been petrified.
But the boy had been speaking Parseltongue - maybe.. Just maybe she could convince him to let her go. Maybe she could try fight him for the basilisk.
They were both desperate measures, but still.
"Please-." Her first attempt at Parseltongue failed miserably, and her aching head and flagging will made the words come out as little more than a sob. That wasn't going to cut it, no matter what world she was in.
So she pictured that small serpent in her head, the Kenyan Sand Boa that had been brought into existence for a handful of seconds. She couldn't go for her wand - the Basilisk might try striking her, and then she was dead, instead of petrified like Daphne next to her. But she had the memory of the serpent, and so with that picture in her mind’s eye, Steph swallowed her next whimper and managed her desperate plea, hoping that being a Parselmouth was enough to sway the serpent, or its master. "Please go away Meretseger."
The boy was silent, as was the serpent, but she could hear slithering to her left, so much louder than any other serpent she had heard before. This one was, admittedly, the size of several elephants, just judging by the length of the creature that she could estimate given by how long it took to pass her, and thus was significantly larger than any other snake she had come across before.
"Another Speaker? Truly... This host is useless... It is time to dispose of it..." The boy's tone was almost astonished, if only for a second, before the cruelty returned in force, as he audibly clapped his hands, creating an almost dainty noise that was otherwise out of place in the conversation, if it could be called that. "Alas... I cannot have interference. Meretseger.."
Her next action wasn't the... Finest moment of her life.
But she could tell what the boy was building to, even she could tell. He couldn't have anyone interrupting him in whatever he was seeking to do, and his intonation of the Basilisks name would mean only one thing. He was going to order her to strike.
Fumbling, Steph reached for one of the jagged shards of the glass mirror, and went to petrify herself - in the vain hope that it might just be enough to spare her from the death that the boy clearly had planned for her. It seemed like he would be done with Hogwarts in a short while, and hopefully Steph could simply survive to tell the tale to whomever needed to hear it.
But in her haste to save her life, Steph pressed her right hand directly into a patch of broken glass, and recoiled in pain, jerking her neck up.
And in doing so, she found herself staring straight into the glowing yellow eyes of the Basilisk of Salazar Slytherin, Meretseger.