20 Chapter 20: Know Thy Enemy.

(Note: This chapter is dedicated to Palestine, where Geneva's convention is not a thing. And to Ukraine, where innocents are suffering because of accursed politics. May the cheese be with them.)

If Magnus was to describe the events of Allhallows's Eve in a single word, pandemonium would doubtlessly be the one he'd chose.

Pure chaos reigned through the school. As Filch's awful cat was found paralysed in the corridors, words written in blood staining the walls in a single, horrifying warning which reopened the already fresh wounds of the war.

"Enemies of the heir beware! You are next mudbloods!" the wretched voice of an incestuous, wretched urchin assaulted the ears of those present in the scene.

While the righteous were pained by the shame made scarlet, the fool found solace in the reassurance that their wrongs were justified, peace in the lie that their evil shall be rewarded.

In the attack, the fool would see naught but an opportunity to shine, exposing their hollow greatness to all that would see. The lonely was grieving, heartbroken as his only companion was taken away. And the boy-who-lived, bitterly sharing the fate of this madness became once more object of suspicion, for he was missing from the feast as the deed happened.

And through it all, a single boy, eagle eyed, was grimly watching the events unfold. Searching for any anomaly, any change in his foreknowledge he would have to account for.

Yet the fates were mighty mistresses, and it seemed his presence changed little in that particular knot of their tapestry.

However, change was a sacred force. One a wizard like Magnus would be hard-pressed to resist any longer, his existence as a living-contradiction would surely affect the world around him, of that he had no doubt.

Nor did he have fear, for he was now ready for the trial to come. With a thousand plan in mind, magic by his side and a steeled heart, the boy's victory was promised.

'It's time to solve the riddle.'

…

As he entered the Room of Requirement, Occlumency clearing his mind and eagle eyes on the Marauders' Map, Magnus summoned the items he needed for his righteous endeavour.

'Alerting the teachers will have to wait, even a bright student like me will seem suspicious if he solved the mystery this soon.' He thought 'Especially when the last person to help out became Voldemort.'

Dumbledore might favour Magnus, after intruding on his mind as he watched the Mirror of Erised. But the old man lived through two wars, saw friend and student fall to the dark side and one survive such things without a healthy dose of paranoia.

'Even then, we require a parselmouth to open the chamber.' He picked up the small, enchanted box eh prepared beforehand. 'Waiting for Potter to use his tongue is too risky, even with the map.'

The duelling club had yet to be created, so the boy-who-lived could not speak parceltongue as far as everyone was concerned, and he therefor cannot enlist his help in opening the chamber's passages.

'Waiting, always waiting…' he gritted his teeth, for someone who disliked being restrained, the bindings of caution could indeed be a curse.

He had to last a full month without roaming the castle alone, watching the movement of Ginevra Weasley to determine the frequency of Basilisk attacks. One had to remember that he was a muggleborn himself, and as such a juicy target for the Heir of Slytherin.

'I also have to be seen in the library, to obtain the necessary information about Basilisks and parselmouths for my plan to work.' He put on a simple silver locket, which he enchanted as the year started.

Overcoming the heir, like many things, would require subtlety, caution and a well-thought strategy. It is no matter a simple as taking the diary form weasley, but an intense mental battle between a younger Voldemort and himself.

'A game of chess between me and a dark lord who had yet to lose his sanity. Any mistake, any flaw in my plan could be deadly.' He thought, putting on his creations.

(…)

The next days were nerve wreaking for the students of Hogwarts, and Magnus was no exception.

Spending his days in the company of at least one pureblood at all times, while his nights would be spent in the Room, the road to his dormitory too risky to be taken…it was not an enjoyable experience, though such deadly games rarely were.

By the end of November, another victim was discovered. A human this time, Colin Creevey; a talkative Gryffindor first-year with a thing for photography.

He was found petrified, his camera's film burnt to crisp. A sad thing, but one Magnus had allowed for the sake of his final victory.

A victim was necessary to further alert the teachers, and Magnus would rather have Colin petrified than another student, or maybe even himself, killed by the monster of Slytherin.

Some would call that cruelty, Magnus called it pragmatism.

It was the trigger event for the creation of an already doomed institution within Hogwarts, for it was headed by the most incompetent fool in the castle.

By the seventeenth day of December, Hogwarts now boasted a Duelling Club; headed not by the former duelling champion, Fillius Flitwick, but by Gilderoy Lockhart of all people.

'A travesty.' Thought Magnus, as he looked at the great hall which was rearranged to host the duelling club. Long tables vanishing, replacing by a candle lit golden stage as all hundreds of students stood, excited and wand in hand.

All interested students were welcome to come and try their luck, but most Newt and Owl level student refrained from coming. As did many other students from all houses, out of fear harm or failure.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Padma as she and Magnus tried to find a way through the crowd of students. "I hope it's a Flitwick, he might show us some moves from his duelling years."

"It would be great, though Snape or McGonagall are also great duellists." Magnus said, his face impassive.

"Well, as long as it's not…" She didn't finish her sentence, as she saw Gilderoy Lockhart clad in his best plum coloured robes advancing through the stage with the black robed Professor Snape on his tail.

"Bloody hell." She cursed, her excitement all but vanishing.

"Language." Magnus chided her, a soft smile on his face.

Amber eyes watched the overly confident buffoon as he addressed the students, not missing the occasion to make his own promotion. Magnus could not understand how someone could lick his own anus with such enthusiasm, but to each their own.

What he could understand though, was the grim smile on Snape's face as he prepared himself to duel the thrice damned peacock of a man.

As they bowed, Lockhart did an overly elaborate greeting with a flourish; much to the young ladies' delight. However, his opponent barely moved his head to show his loathing for the unworthy adversary, a move that only brought him more points in Magnus's books.

"One, two, three…" counted Lockhart, a disgusting smirk on his face.

"Expelliarmus!" Cast Snape, the spell not only disarming its target but also throwing him across the stage. Effectively wiping that atrocious smirk from his face.

One had to note that Snape was fully capable of casting the spell with neither elaborate wand movement or incantation, yet he handicapped himself massively to showcase just how bad a wizard Lockhart was.

"An excellent idea to show them that, Professor." He flashed an overly bright smile, as if he didn't just fall on his own arse "But if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you're about to do. And if I wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy."

The lack of scepticism on the students's part filled Magnus with dread, and he only found himself more grateful to be in good standing with miss Patil. Snape was likewise rather irked by the agreeing nods the students were giving, as if the supposed adventurer's words carried secret wisdom only they were skilled enough to understand.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students how to block unfriendly spells." Said Snape, his tone too indifferent to stem from anything but Occlumency.

Magnus could understand the need for such measures, the blonde-haired pretender had the innate ability to annoy the sensible minded beyond measure. He was rather envious of the Potion master, as he didn't have the opportunity to curse Lockhart unpunished.

Both eagle eyed student, and grim looking teacher were very amused by the panic which filled the squirming professor's eyes. It was rather obvious that he had no idea of how to do such a thing, the shield charm evoking nothing in his treacherous mind, which likewise failed to understand what dodging meant.

"An excellent suggestion Professor Snape, what about volunteer pairs?" He still managed to evade the greasy haired wizard's trap.

The students were paired in group of two, everyone either finding an opponent or being assigned one if necessary. Tasked by Lockhart with the casting of the disarming charm; which they did not know, while their opponent had to block the spell; which they didn't know either.

It was a fiasco by no other name, as the students fell into chaos; brawling, running, fainting and escalating in violence. Magnus and Padma watched from a removed spot in the hall as pandemonium once more became the word of choice to describe the scene.

Yet it all went silent. In the single moment it took for one Harry Potter to hiss at Malfoy's conjured serpent, saving the life of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

A horrified Professor Snape dismissed the students, bringing Potter to the headmaster for a much-needed interrogation while the Hogwarts rumour mill started running, destroying Harry's social life in a matter of minutes.

'It's the thing about fame.' Thought Magnus, only half-listening to Padma's talk about Parselmouths 'A single bad moment is all it takes to become infamy.'

He could approach Potter, help him out in such hard times for him. He would probably do it, if he gave a damn about the boy that is.

He had a measure of sympathy for Harry, the similarities in their situations guaranteeing that if the boy's own tragic past was not enough. But that was it, he had neither care nor admiration for the boy-who-lived, not when this world was his reality.

Harry Potter was a martyr, an unlucky boy who became a pawn in his own story. Someone who wished to escape his chains, but did not even try to break them himself. Finding no wonder in magic, no interest in his own growth and development.

If Potter displayed as much as one sliver of ambition, if he did at least one thing to free himself from his current condition; Magnus would help him in his endeavours, and offer him his friendship and support.

Yet he did not, and so he would be naught but a pawn in the chessboard, moved by greater forces. Manipulated by Dumbledore, used by Voldemort…exploited by Magnus.

"You're okay?" Asked a worried Padma, who recoiled as she met the intensity of his gaze.

"I just thought of something I've read about a creature that could petrify its victims…" He said, hooking the young witch with the mention.

'Victory is getting closer, one move at a time.'

(---)

"Finch-Fletchley and nearly headless Nick were found petrified…" Muttered the amber eyed boy, looking at his cup of tea.

"Yes." Sighed Minerva "We did not have much success in our investigations"

The gravity of the situation had all but spoiled their meeting, warm conversations about obscure magicks and gentle inquiries were replaced with grim musing and constant worry. Her boy was a muggleborn, who also happened to outshine every single pureblood in every aspect, and as such was a prime target for the heir's vicious bigotry.

The boy was alert, eyes glowing with untold plans and strategies to survive an encounter with the unexpected. His usually healthy skin grew pale from pressure, hand ready to grab his wand…To see her protégé in such a state was painful for the Professor.

'Just like the war…' she thought, her heart sinking further.

"Professor." Said Magnus, in an unsure way that was not suitably for the usually confident student. "The chamber of secrets was a creation of Salazar Slytherin, right?"

"Yes, that is common knowledge." She answered, a single eyebrow raising at the question.

"I just thought of something...what if it wasn't a wizard, who petrified the students, but a magical creature?" He asked after a moment, finally deciding that his theory was forth sharing.

"Continue." She ordered.

Magnus Arran hated failure, that much was obvious to his mentor. He worked harder than anyone, planned better than anyone and never lost himself in arrogance or complacency. Similarly, he never expressed his opinion or answered a question without carefully considering it, making sure that all his decisions were informed and measured.

'If he went out of his way to express an opinion on the matter, it is probably a trail worth following.' She thought, listening attentively to his next words.

"Looking at the clues we have, and assuming it is the work of a creature." He started "We'd know it is a long-lived creature, potentially dating from the time of the founders."

"A creature capable of petrifying its victims, like the Medusa or cockatrice. But capable of sneaking around the castle unseen, likely using secret passages to move." He continued "We must also note that it is capable of petrifying ghosts, something most beings are incapable of doing."

"It is also the creature of Slytherin, a known parselmouth, which might indicate that the creature would a snake of sorts" Magnus added carefully, looking at her face as she started reaching the same conclusion.

"Do you know who else is a parselmouth?" He asked, looking at her in the eyes.

"I do not believe that Mr. Potter is the heir of Slytherin…" She said.

"What?" he blurted out "I wasn't talking about potter, he might as well be muggleborn"

"Let me rephrase it, Professor. Do you know of a legendary dark wizard, who is also a parselmouth and who created a snake capable of petrification?" Magnus Asked her.

She did not need to think much about it, the wizard in question being as much of a mythic figure as Merlin and Morgana for the well-learned. A man who's soul was so dark and whose power so great that he's evil creations were reviled and feared by all wizards across the world, even if he died so long ago.

"Herpo the foul." She said, the words themselves feeling like venom.

Herpo the foul was a legendary Greek wizard, a known parselmouth who created some of the most wretched things on earth. The fact that Magnus knew about him was rather worrying, but Minerva discarded the thought when she remembered exactly what creature Herpo created.

"A Basilisk." She said, her mind conjuring every single information about the monstrous serpent "You think it's a Basilisk."

"That I do." Magnus confirmed. "The king of snakes, what else would a wizard like Salazar Slytherin use to protect his chamber?"

"The gaze of a Basilisk is deadly…" Professor McGonagall said, her voice growing dimmer with each word.

"Unless it is met indirectly." He finished her sentence, something he was rather fond of doing. "The gaze of a Medusa is nullified when seen through a reflection,

But the Basilisk's magic is too potent, resulting in petrification instead."

"Creevey saw it through the lenses of his camera device." She said, his theory becoming more and more likely as he thought about it.

"And the Hufflepuff boy…" He started, only to be interrupted by the older witch.

"Finch-Fletchley." She chided him.

"He saw it through Sir Nicholas." He continued, what kind of name was Finch-Fletchley anyway?

"While ghosts are already dead, and thus would only be petrified by the Basilisk's gaze." Said the witch, already convinced that it was the most likely option.

They had no other trail anyway, Magnus's idea was a gift from Merlin.

"If it wasn't enough, what's a Basilisk's bane, professor." He asked her.

"The cry of a rooster." She answered instantly, only to realize what he meant.

"Yup, Hagrid's roosters were all killed before the first attack." Magnus said, only to find himself grabbed by the older witch and promptly hugged.

"That's my boy." She praised, releasing him from the hug, not that he minded it.

It was a Basilisk, there was no doubt in her mind.

She would have to alert the headmaster and the other teachers, they will have to protect the students, Basilisks were fearsome beasts after all. They would also need to buy some living roosters; transfigured ones might not work after all.

She found herself with a mountain of work, and facing one of the most dangerous monsters in the wizarding world. But she felt naught but relief, for she now knew what her opponent was and thus could prepare to destroy it.

All that was left to do was locate the chamber, and the crisis would be dealt with. Perhaps they should simply swarm the school with roosters? a dead basilisk would make finding the chamber a much easier task.

'It might even kill the heir in its death throes…' She thought grimly, it would be a worthy end for the monster who'd unleash such a plight on the school.

And it was all thanks to her boy.

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Hey guys! it's Uncle Sheo!

If the last chapters were lacking in plot, this one is the opposite. Double the size and three time the story telling, loved writing it.

Magnus finally has enough pieces ready to play the game, Tom won't know what hit him. Lockhart didn't even need our hero's intervention to humiliate himself, Snape is enough for the moment. But if the events of the chamber change, he'd still have to be put in his place, doesn't he?

How will McGonagall deal with the new information? Will Dumbledore's dark lord radar go wild? Will Magnus profit from the situation? Will Lockhart reach even deeper in his own rectum?

We'll see that in the next chapter.

Peace and Cheese!