19

Chapter 19: Emerald Eyes

:Haassssssaaann.:

The boy froze in the empty hallway, a cold draft sweeping through the dungeon corridor and through his skin and bones. He was alone. He wasn't alone.

:I can sssssmell you. Ssssoo juicy, tender flesh...sssssooo long.:

Hasan's nerves shot up. The voice was the same as the one during the Dueling Club. The one spurring the other to kill, the one that slithered through the castle, the one that spoke his name. The Basilisk.

He glanced quickly down the hall and back the way he came. Alone. Stillness. Where he had only just basked in his independence and invisibility a moment before, he sorely wished for someone to come down the hall now. Even Peeves...

:Follow me.: the snake commanded, scales sliding across an old surface that Hasan could hear.

:Where?: Hasan hissed in question. The 'why' was unimportant. Why would anyone kill? Why would anyone harm? The motivation did not matter as much as formulating a way to survive. The 'where' could buy Hasan just enough time to calculate an escape.

:You'll know sssssooon enough, hurry. You wouldn't want to keep your friend waiting...:

The snake continued to glide inside the wall, and while Hasan was irritated that the basilisk had all but threatened him, he was able to garner that the serpent must be using the pipes which meant that they were heading somewhere with plumbing: the Lake, the kitchens, or the bathrooms.

He followed the occasional hissing out of the dungeons, where he saw no passerby. How was it that he had all the luck? Obviously Altair had not rubbed off on him...They soon stopped in front of the girl's bathroom where he, Draco, and Hermione had saved Neville from the troll the year before. It was funnily ironic how everything seemed to fit. The bathroom had been repaired to its former glory, though it was vacant as ever due to Myrtle.

"Ooohhh! You're that Castell boy!" Myrtle swooned, bursting through the stall door.

"And you must be Myrtle." Hasan answered politely, wondering how both the snake and the ghost knew his name. Who was it that connected them both? Did it have to do with the troll last year? Draco? Hermione? Neville? "Tell me, has anyone else come to visit you?" Hasan asked nonchalantly.

Myrtle pouted with her hands on her transparent hips. "Visit me?" she repeated incredulously. "No, they just walk into my loo without a glance or a 'hi, Myrtle!' Some people are just sooooo rude! I bet you're just like them!" she snapped, "You don't really want to talk to me!" She frowned and crossed her misty arms over chest yet kept an eye trained on him in a histrionic show of hope.

Hasan didn't bat an eyelash. He wasn't a liar, but he wasn't stupid either! "Who were they?" Hasan enquired.

"Oh!" Myrtle growled. "The rudest people known to man!...But they were ever so handsome-" she added as an afterthought.

:Open!: the basilisk commanded impatiently. He didn't have the time to listen to the woes of Moaning Myrtle! Hasan glanced at the floor, surprised, as the voice seemed to rise from the floor. The snake was below him-? But before he could even ponder if there was another chamber below, the sinks buckled before him and dipped in a dance, locking and rearranging, until a single panel of the octagonal sink had fallen into the floor!

Myrtle gasped and flew straight into her stall. "That's the one who killed me!" Her voice echoed up from the toilet seat in which she was hiding, and Hasan had barely time to regard the spectacle of the sinks before the basilisk hissed again.

:Down. We're waiting.:

The sinks settled around a long and dark passage, and it didn't take much effort to put two and two together. The snake wanted him to jump down there? Down into the darkness? Into the unknown? How did he know he wouldn't be killed when he reached the bottom? How did he know there was a bottom? Or if he'd be sent to the pits of hell? Or have to fight for his second chance at life, like Gandalf?

All his instincts shouted against it, but one culpable thought, one little thought of loyalty and what it meant to think about more than the self, the ego, the I. Hasan bit his lip and gripped his wand tighter in his hand. Another way? Another out? No. Sometimes deviations didn't work. Sometimes the answer was so straightforward and clear and detestable, that being blind was preferable to seeing.

Hasan plunged.

"WAIT-!"

.oOo.

Snape paced intently back and forth in his private chambers. What the Bloody-fucking-Hell? Hasan Castell, the prodigal son of his idiot friend, had produced a patronus. A fully corporeal peacock patronus, at the age of 12 years old. Snape mulled over again the vague explanation of how the imbecile managed to find the child, and again was unsatisfied at the answer. Followed his aura? For six hours? Abandoned at an orphanage? Ran away from being adopted? Hasan made as much sense as his father sometimes, but still, something else was bothering him.

It had been building for a while, that sometimes, he would just forget he had ever thought it. Things weren't adding up. The troll, the dagger, the boggart, the dementors, the ring, the snake, the mirror, the stone, the eyes. He was sure of it now, those emerald eyes had been Lily's. It did not matter that he only saw a flash before the boy crumbled to the floor, or that the boy clearly had dull jade eyes. Those had been Lily's eyes. Severus was sure of it.

And with this realization came the weight of the world.

Could Hasan Castell be Harry Potter? Dumbledore had looked everywhere for the boy, had sent everyone looking everywhere for the boy, had tried everything to find the real Boy-Who-Lived! And wouldn't that just be ironic if he was at Hogwarts the whole time?

How could it be possible? Polyjuice? Charms? No, they would have noticed. They would have sensed the magic, and Altair...did Altair know? How could a boy so young hide so well and for so long? And if Altair truly had no inkling, then why bother taking the boy in in the first place? Altair never was one to interfere with charity, so what ulterior motive did the Slytherin have for adopting this strange, magical boy?

It seemed so obvious now, and yet, the questions became more complex. Why did Hasan befriend Draco when the Malfoys were a well-known Death Eater Family? Why could he speak to snakes? How was he able to defeat Quirrelmort? Why did he meet with the dementors?

Shouldn't Severus alert the headmaster now? Call Altair? Or better yet, call the boy back in here and demand answers?

And this was when the second realization hit: What proof did he have? And besides this, telling the headmaster of Hasan Castell would lead to the discovery of Altair...and inevitably this would not be good for Severus. The thing was, was he right? And if he was, who else knew? And if they knew, what the hell were they going to do about it?

Severus stopped his pacing. The orphanage.

There's a powerful magical energy near here...I'm sensing a pulsating emerald. Somewhere...somewhere near here.

Severus would bet his Master's degree that this "somewhere near here" was the same orphanage that Dumbledore himself had checked as being the location of the youngest Potter. It was only eight o'clock and surely it wouldn't take that long...Surely the headmaster would not need to speak with him and discover his absence...

Snape grabbed his black travelling cloak and threw it over his shoulders. There were only so many things a person could do to corroborate a secret speculation and Severus knew a thing or two about secrets.

.oOo.

Lucius Malfoy was doubled over a conjured basin, regurgitating his lunch and whatever else was left in his stomach with various degrees of disgust. The headaches had started again, and Lucius could do nothing to combat them. His blood thumped painfully against his skull, and his ears were ringing, constantly ringing!

"Lucius, dear? Are you alright?" Narcissa called from the door.

Lucius cursed his luck and wiped his mouth. He was sure he put up silencing spells! "I'm fine, Narcissa. I'll be out in a minute."

He stilled and waited for her light footfalls to make their way down the steps, before vomiting once more. Altair, he growled inwardly. He was sure of it. It was just like how it started last time: The dizziness, the nausea, the pounding migraines...

Lucius cleaned his face and mouth, vanished the basin, and stumbled back into his bedroom, glancing over the rail to see Narcissa rearranging some roses in the foyer. He had gotten her some never-ageing roses for Valentine's Day in a roundabout way of apologizing for all the secrets he kept. Obviously he couldn't tell her this, and her gratitude always had this way of melting down his heart. Damn Altair. Damn memories. Damn secrets.

He wondered absently if he should just give up and tell Snape everything, but quickly shot it down. This was between him and Altair. No one else. And in a way, Lucius reveled in the thought. And why? Well, he couldn't really say. A wave of vertigo smacked him again, and his mind was set. Quickly he grabbed his quill and parchment and jotted down the first thing that came to his mind:

"Can't you bloody stop it?"

"Lucius!" Narcissa yelled, "I'll tell them you're working late, all right?"

That's right, the dinner at the Nott's. Lucius groaned as his head throbbed in agony. How could he even think of socializing?

"Enjoy yourself, Cissa." Lucius shouted, relieved that he was finally alone to suffer in private. He didn't want to arouse suspicion, but even more, he didn't want Narcissa to have to worry about him. He was helping a dead man on blackmail; it didn't take much to surmise that whatever tasks he was told to do weren't exactly legal. And still, Narcissa loved him. She didn't question him when he locked himself up in his room to research or write. She didn't comment except to ask about his health. In short, Lucius didn't deserve her.

As the door clicked shut below, there was an instant rapping at the window. What? Lucius raised his head and focused his silver eyes on the small gray bird at the window. Altair! He incinerate his pitiful note with a flick of his wand and opened the windows so that the little owl could hop inside. There was a small, rolled up letter on its leg which Lucius carefully untied. Once relieved, the owl gave a hoot and flew off, leaving Lucius to stare down at the parchment in his hands. His heart thumped and his head cleared for just an instant.

"Lucius,

I hope life finds you well. (Lucius snorted). I apologize for the hasty manner in which I address you, but certain circumstances require me to be quick. In the case that you have not had the time to research, Slytherin's locket once belonged to a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle. I need it. Preferably before the end of the week. I am counting on you. Use all the resources you have available, yet I would suggest starting at home. Elves can be ever so helpful.

Best of luck,

Altair Castell"

Lucius groaned and pressed his fingers to his temple. The message was about as cryptic as Dumbledore! And why did the man need the locket now? If he could blackmail Lucius Malfoy and fake his own death, then why couldn't he get the bloody locket himself? Perhaps he's worried about being caught? Yet a word from Lucius and the whole Ministry would go searching for him. Besides, what vaguely intelligent person put their full name on paper?

Insult to injury: Lucius was being controlled by this moron!

Well, what the hell was he supposed to do about it? There was another possibility however, one of convenience. House-elves? What could Dobby possibly- ah. The disappearances. Perhaps Altair had been keeping an eye on Dobby as well. It wouldn't surprise Lucius, but it certainly didn't make him feel any better that his elf was being stalked! Lucius sighed and reconsidered his theory. What connected his house-elf's comings and goings to the Slytherin locket?

"Dobby!" he called, angry but tired all the same. There was a momentary pause before the house-elf appeared with a sharp pop.

"What is Master Malfoy be wanting, sir?" His large emerald eyes wavered to the side of Lucius' head, and Lucius' eyes narrowed. There was no doubt that his elf was up to something. How had he not seen this earlier?

"Where were you just now?" Lucius demanded, glaring coldly at the elf's new sage pillowcase.

"Dobby wa-be-" he stuttered, thin legs shifting his weight from either foot. "Dobby, be, er, at."

"OUT WITH IT!"

"Grim- Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Within an instant, the little elf was up against the wall, smashing his brains out onto the stone. "Bad Dobby! Dobby not be saying!"

Lucius growled. How could he not see this coming? "Dobby! Stop that at once! I am your Master and you will listen to me! Where were you? Who forbade you from speaking to me?"

The poor creature wrenched himself away from the wall, stumbling into the bed, when his face froze in horror.

"Dobby is being- be called now, sir!" he squeaked. His purposeful botching of the English language not missed by Lucius who frowned and held up a hand. Another wave of nausea hit, and he shut his eyes in time for the little elf to snap away.

What the hell? Someone was giving orders to his house-elf? HIS HOUSE-ELF! Who would dare? Who had the right? All his relatives were carted off to Azkaban! Who-

Black.

Sirius Black. Black was stealing his house-elf? Well, who else could it be? He was the only other with the rights to control his house-elf, and the thought wasn't improbable. He had been so absorbed in his own little world of Altair and memories that he had almost forgotten that Sirius Black had been freed from Azkaban. Which left the question: where did he reside? There were only so many properties belonging to the House of Black- surely it was in London somewhere? Or near London?

Dobby reappeared suddenly, looking much relieved and very nervous.

"Sorry, Master Lucius, I is free to speak now."

This only served to increase the Malfoy Lord's suspicions.

"If you lie, then I shall know." he threatened.

Dobby cowed back and shuffled his feet. "I is serving Master Black and Mister Lupin, sir."

"The werewolf!" Lucius exclaimed. Oh, this was just great! Just bloody great! As if his life wasn't messed up enough, add a gloating werewolf!

"But they is not knowing I is yours." Dobby continued. "They think I is part of the house."

"They don't know." Lucius repeated.

"No, sir!" Dobby squeaked. "I is being careful, and Kreacher is always there when I is not."

"Where is it?"

The house-elf bit his lip.

"WHERE IS IT?" Lucius howled. "You said you could speak!"

"Only if Dobby is freed!" the elf cried.

Lucius was perplexed. What the hell? His house-elf was demanding things from him now? HE was a Malfoy! THAT was a house-elf!

"I swear I will flay you alive until-" Nausea. Guilt. Sickness. Vertigo. Lucius doubled over and shut his eyes.

"Master Lucius? Master Lucius!" Dobby screeched.

Blood was rushing through his ears. What was wrong with him? What was happening? His chest constricted, ribs choking his lungs.

"All I bloody want is Slytherin's Locket!" Lucius choked out, gritting his teeth. He was not guilty! He was not backing down! He was not freeing his house-elf! He was a Malfoy! His world rocked on its axis. The floor was swirling. He couldn't do this...he couldn't live with himself if he did this. Oh, sod it!—

"Accio sock!" A velvet black sock came zooming from the drawer and into his outstretched hand. The world was receding, the land was drying up. "Here!" He tossed the sock to the shocked creature with grace of movement, grimacing all the while.

Dobby caught the sock and cradled the it to his cheek; Lucius sat with his mouth agape. His world had settled down, finally, and the sky was still up, and the ground was still down...He breathed out in relief before realizing what he had just done. But he had to!

"Slytherin's Locket, sir?" Dobby asked after he had calmed down some. "I remember Kreacher hiding with it...it is evil, sir. Pure evil. Kreacher i-be trying to break it, but he can't."

Lucius raised his head and looked the thoughtful elf in the eyes. Somewhere deep inside he knew he did the "right thing", but now, all he could do was nod his head, numbly, and let fate have its way with him.

"Please."

Dobby immediately snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving Lucius to stare at the place the elf had last been. Evil? Dangerous?

Lucius shook his head and sighed. Life wasn't getting any easier and now he was one house-elf short! And, by Merlin!-

Altair had probably planned it out from the start.

.oOo.

Hasan plunged.

"WAIT-!"

His world was a whirl of black as he descended into the unknown. He landed with all the agility of a cat, his shoes scoffing the hard stone floor with a succinct impact. He glanced up to see who had called him. It was a distinctive feminine voice, and if Hasan were to wager a guess...

Luna's smiling face popped into view at the mouth of the tunnel, her beautiful blonde hair tasseled around her face like she had just been running through a windy field.

"Luna?" Hasan asked surprised, wondering why his heart was pounding as hard as it was. Without a pause, the physic jumped down to join him and he had just the reflexes to break her fall before she fell face flat on the ground. "Luna!" Hasan chided, "You can't just-"

"I knew you would catch me!" Luna beamed, shredding whatever lecture on safety Hasan had prepared to fire at her. "I was trying to learn horseish, but I figured that being a pragmatist was best! Unicorns are so nice!" she told him rapidly, soothing down her hair with her left hand. That's when Hasan noticed she was carrying something black and rolled up in her right. "Oh this?" Luna asked excitedly. "It's the Hogwarts sorting hat!"

"I can see that." Hasan said, "but why do you-?"

Suddenly a great hissing filled the room, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. In his surprise he had almost forgot about his mission in the first place. What was wrong with him? Surely Luna couldn't affect him that much- that was ludicrous- his mind could handle multitasking, or at least, he thought so before.

:More friendssss for the ressscue? Come on Hasssan, I don't like to be kept waiting...and I grow sssso hungry.:

Hasan inwardly shivered as he gazed at Luna. He didn't want her in harm's way, but he could hardly control another person; it simply wasn't right. Besides, if this truly was a basilisk, he needed all the help he could get.

"Ooh! Was that Slytherin's Monster?" Luna wondered. "Enemies of the Heir Beware!"

"Wait, what?" Hasan asked.

"It was written on the wall one day, but I washed it off! Hmm, I think it was on Valentine's Day, but everyone was so busy snogging that no one noticed. But I wasn't, so I saw it!"

It must have been when he was outside, Hasan realized. But why hadn't Luna told him this before? He glanced at her and she still had the dreamy expression her face.

"Do you know who did it?" Hasan asked lightly, started to walk further into the tunnel.

"Oh! The man with many faces!" Luna answered cheerfully. It was as if his heart had been shot twice through. Quirrelmort was back? How? Why? And the bastard had his friend...His blood was pounding through his brain. They had to hurry.

"How do you know this?" Hasan asked as they reached a second door with great metal snakes barring it shut.

"Inspiration." Luna sighed. "Sometimes knowing the surface is such a burden."

Hasan continued to examine the door, expecting the basilisk to order him to hurry up at any minute, but when no order came, Hasan concluded that they were near enough to the Chamber of Secrets that no pipes where necessary to talk to him. This sent an odd unsettling feeling to Hasan's stomach, but he forced it down, knowing that the very worst that could happen was death...Oh Merlin...Luna was watching him closely as he steadied himself in front of the vault door.

:Open!: Hasan commanded, keeping his eyes trained on the final snake-bolt to move. As it slithered back into the cog box, Hasan nodded curtly to Luna who then went to stand behind him, Sorting Hat at the ready!

Hasan flicked his wand at the door, which opened with a great moan, and softly, he climbed inside. It looked like a great aisle of dark green tiles with snakes decorating the walls. Hard to miss was the great grey head of Salazar Slytherin, who had a very artistic beard that flowed from his slight chin. How could someone create a chamber this massive in total secrecy? Magic...It was so surreal.

At the very end of the aisle, right in front of Salazar's head, was a man who was standing with his head bent, staring down in fascination at a body Hasan couldn't identify. Perhaps if he were more lucid, the answer would have presented itself to him. As it was, his thoughts were bouncing wildly about, darting from Voldemort, to Salazar, to Luna.

He felt a hand on his arm and cold metal pressed against his skin. What-?

"Don't forget your friends, Hasan. See, they never fail you." Her voice was lower now, not as happy, but still Luna. He glanced at her in confusion before it clicked. The dagger. The Malfoy dagger. But how had it gotten in there? When had he put the dagger in his sleeve? Luna raised a finger to her soft pink lips. "Sshh! Blind things can still hear!" With this cryptic remark, she began to walk forward, flattening out the hat and placing it on her head.

Hasan's jade green eyes widened at her audacity, before he strode powerfully in front of her and lead the way to the end. He would protect her. He wouldn't be able to protect everyone, but he'd protect her for sure.

As they neared, Hasan kept his eyes trained on the unknown man, knowing this to be Voldemort. He daren't glance at his friend and run the risk of faltering. He couldn't show any weakness. He could not feel!

Suddenly, the man's head snapped up to greet Hasan when he was about five feet away.

"Hasan Castell."

The man was handsome, very handsome, with dark hair and a sculpted jaw. His eyes were sharp, yet not altogether clear, as if they were guarding some great secret. On second thought, Hasan was sure they were.

Hasan stared, unable to move. What was he expected to do? Where was the snake? Why was he here? Was he in danger? Who was the captive? He didn't want to reveal his own intentions before knowing what the hell was going on.

"Who are you?" Hasan asked finally, jade eyes locking onto the man's.

"You already know me, Hasan,"—he smiled,—"I love books almost as much as you. Take a look." He dropped a graceful hand and Hasan allowed himself to see the book, and only the book, laying shut beside a still body. He would not look, and yet, that blonde hair was hard to ignore against the dark green tiles.

Hasan shoved all guilt from his mind. There shouldn't be any emotions, least of all guilt! They were friends, nothing more, nothing less, and yes, he did notice that Draco had been acting weird, and yes he could've searched his rooms, and yes, there were many things he could have done, but now, all the blame lay with Draco.

So then why was his chest constricting? He knew this book was Dark...he knew it from the start.

"Why?" Hasan asked, not caring to know How, or When, or What. In order to defeat an opponent, it was far more logical to figure out what he was fighting against.

"Because you wouldn't." Tom said, "I offered to answer all your questions if you just allowed me to show you this place. It's called the Chamber of Secrets by the way. Oh, but I forget my manners: You even brought a little friend. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle." He swished his wand in the air, Draco's wand, causing the words to rearrange themselves.

Hasan, who had not glanced back at Luna once, was surprised to hear her laugh.

"Oh! I get it! You're the man with many faces!" Luna released a tinkling laugh, even stamping on the floor to get out all the energy. "Ha! It's true!"

Hasan watched as Riddle's perfect face twitched before stealing a glance at Draco. He appeared unharmed, except for the waxy complexion that was extreme even for the sun deprived Malfoy heir. If Riddle was here, out of the diary, and Draco was here, clearly dying on the floor...Life was being transferred. But how was this possible, unless, unless...

Tom Riddle was completely oblivious to his change in demeanor, instead gesturing to the statue of Salazar's head as if unveiling a trophy.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four!" A large rumbling filled the cavern as the mouth dropped open, immediately after which, a gigantean serpent came slithering forth, hissing and sputtering venom. This was the basilisk Hasan had heard in the walls. It was quite another thing to see it. He averted his eyes immediately, warning Luna to do the same, when Tom spoke again. "Don't be afraid, Hasan. You know I can control her and she won't strike until I give the order. So let's talk, you and me..."

Hasan could only nod, feeling his skin crawl beneath his eerie gaze. Could his soul be sucked out too? Or more specifically, could Tom Riddle steal his life force?

"Draco was a stupid little boy," Tom continued, "Always wondering what his father thought, or what Hasan thought. Hasan this, Hasan that. Do you think he trusts me, Tom? I feel like I've been obliviated, Tom! I-"

"How much longer?" Hasan interrupted, really not caring what internal thoughts plagued Draco at night. Tom tapped Draco's hand with his nearly solid shoe.

"As long as it takes for you to die. I don't have a flair for the dramatics, but I do intend to return his consciousness just as long as it takes for the life to fade from your eyes."

The basilisk hovered in Hasan's peripheral vision. What could he do? When could he do it...?

Suddenly, Luna let out a warrior cry and leapt forward! Hasan was about to scream at her when he noticed something peculiar: she had a sword in her hand, and the Sorting hat around her eyes. He would recognize the ruby hilt anywhere, the prophesized sword of Gryffindor, drawn and redrawn in art and diagrams of books. And the hat? Had Luna pulled the sword from the hat? Just like a true magician? The irony was enough to strike anyone dumb, but Hasan's pulse was spiking rapidly. The snake was rearing, barring its fangs and slashing its tail across the echoing ground.

Determined not to look in its eyes, Hasan allowed himself to watch the spritely witch stab at the basilisk like a great, deadly piñata. He wondered if luck would be enough to save them- what were the chances of Luna striking those beady eyes?

"Hasan, you worry too much!" Luna called out, sidestepping the snake's snapping jaws. She struck the dark green scales and then sliced straight through the stomach. It appeared to not have any affect except perhaps to make the serpent angrier.

"Her life force is very strong." Tom murmured from Hasan's side, "I wonder how strong I'd be-"

"Shut up, Voldemort!" Hasan screamed, forgetting Altair's instructions in the face of reality. "Don't you dare talk about Luna that way you sadistic bastard!"

"And then perhaps I'll make you watch as they both fade from existence. Have you ever had to hide a body, Hasan? It's not that hard-"

Hasan tuned him out as he watched the dance between the basilisk as Luna. Her blonde hair whipped around her face, the badgered hat still atop her head. He should be helping, he shouldn't be stalling Tom and hoping that Draco died any slower! But how? This- this thing- was a part of Voldemort's soul. He saw this now, but had no name for it. Was this another thing Altair failed to teach him about? Was this another thing that Altair knew much about?

"Yay!" A few yards down, Luna had managed to puncture one of the eyes, leaving the snake to spasm in air, thrashing wildly from the pain.

"Shit!" Riddle screamed, :Kill the girl! Kill the girl!: He hadn't expected the lunatic to get this far!

The beast, spurred by its Master's wishes, tried to focus on Luna with just one eye. Hasan had to do something, why hadn't he moved before?

"Stupefy!" Hasan growled, but the light barely itched the creature. Tom laughed softly from the side.

"Didn't you know? Magical beasts don't like magic." Tom taunted, staring down at Draco. "Shame, it seems as if your time to running out."

Hasan barred his teeth and sprinted towards Luna. Damn Tom, Damn Voldemort! He grabbed his dagger, wondering if it wouldn't just be a pinprick in the snake's armor, and began to stab everywhere he could, aiming for the underbelly and the neck. Somewhere in all this, they had backed up to the statue of Slytherin and using his resources, Hasan climbed atop the first layer of marble beard.

"Hasan! You can look now!" Luna declared in a cheery voice, succeeding in drawing his eyes away from everywhere but the snake's head. Indeed, if the snake was angry before, it was nothing compared to how furious it was now. It keened terribly, splintering their eardrums, and smashed its head down towards Luna.

:Kill! Kill!: Tom urged maniacally, :Kill them all!:

Without thinking, Hasan plunged himself before Luna, wrapping her in his arms as the snake came barreling down. He reached for his knife as the head drew near, shooting it upward in a blind show of faith. Was there any deity he could pray to? Was luck about to forsake him forever?

His dagger hit bone in a sickening crack, as Luna's sword plunged up into the flesh of the mouth. Together, their weapons pierced through the skull, Luna's slicing open the brain. Like a machine, the snake shut down, tail going still, and head shaking before drooping. Up close, Hasan could see the punctured eyes, stabbed through with a needlelike accuracy. He turned back to Luna, never happier in his life whipped off her hat, and kissed her right on the cheek.

"Hasan, watch out-!"

But it was too late. The snake's head, skewered on the sword had slid down, barely brushing a sharpened fang against Hasan' outer robes, and yet, it tore through his fabric and his skin, the venom seeping into his flowing blood. Magical wounds were certainly something he could live without.

A wave of fatigue punched him in the head, as a fist clenches around his heart. The room spun, his senses extending only to steady breathing of Luna as she half-dragged, half-carried, him to the middle of the room.

"You like bargains, don't you Hasan?" Tom asked, "I get three for the price of one. He's dead, Hasan. Dead. Draco is-"

"SHUT UP!" Luna screeched, dropping Hasan gently and rearing back her fist. "YOU FUCKED UP PIECE OF SHIT! HOW COULD YOU?" She slammed her fist hard against the corporeal soul, making him double over with sheer pain.

Hasan's vision as swimming. Did Luna just punch the Dark Lord? He clutched his shoulder, wondering how he could be so stupid. Self-sacrifice had been farthest from his mind and yet...that only served to prove that he had an inward hero complex just like the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't want this! He didn't want this! But he wanted Luna alive even more than he cared about his self-esteem. If it meant keeping his friends safe, then to hell with his personal morals. To hell with self-preservation. He would sacrifice him Slytherin side if it meant keeping Luna safe...

What was wrong with him?

Distantly he heard Luna crouch before him, cupping his cheek with her hand.

"I knew it." she breathed. "But the unicorns confirmed my suspicions." Thinking that she had totally lost it, Hasan tried to shake his head, but she ignored this. "You have the most beautiful emerald eyes in the world."

Hasan froze.

:You! You are the Harry Potter?: Tom hissed curled in on himself with pain a little ways apart from them. :I thought I'd recognize you on sight, but perhaps not all my magic has been restored...:

Wait, that meant...Draco wasn't dead.

A glass stopper was uncorked from a bottle and something cool and lovely was poured over his shallow wound.

"Unicorn tears." Luna murmured. The skin began to reseal itself, the clarity restoring to Hasan's mind and sight. He saw Luna crawl to Draco and drop some of the liquid into Draco's mouth.

But no! It wouldn't work, it was the diary! It was all the diary! But how to destroy it? He glanced around for the sword of Godric Gryffindor, but Luna, detecting his thoughts, shook her head.

"It disappeared after I dropped it." Dropped? It? Shit! Shit! Shit!

Horrorstruck, Hasan saw Tom laughing to himself. And then, Hasan knew what to do.

"Give me the diary." Hasan requested softly. "Now please."

Luna lifted Draco's limp hand off of the book and slid it obediently across the floor to Hasan.

:Hey, wait!: Tom began to calm, blinking in confusion.

"You like bargains don't you, Tom?" Hasan raised the dagger above his head and plunged it straight through the pages, full of something much more sinister than ink. Something bled forth the diary, like ink or blood, or both, and Tom began to howl, desperately, angrily, and pathetically. "Selling your soul for the fraction of the benefits?" Tom began to scream, his outstretched hand vanishing into the air, his voice fading last, ringing in the empty chamber.

Luna was watching him curiously, bright silver eyes sharp and beautiful.

"You knew him, didn't you?" It wasn't a question. The blood lay at their feet- the liquid spilling.

"The French have two words for knowing. One is connaître, one is savoir. I knew him as one knows a fact, but not as a person. I don't think I'll ever know him as a person." Hasan said lightly. He peered into the inky pool and stared at his reflection. There was his green eyes and unruly black hair. His lightning bolt scar.

Strangely, he wasn't as relieved as he had thought...in fact, he was beginning to panic. How was he to go back? Harry Potter surely wouldn't be able to go striding freely down the halls of Hogwarts! Oh, what had he done? He squeezed his eyes shut and focused intensely on the face that was not his face. The mask that was no mask. Hasan not Harry, Hasan not Harry. This was a dream, a dream, a terrible terrible dream. Let him be Hasan!

A distant thud, footfalls.

Please! Please! Please!

Panting.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the one who was not him. He was Hasan. He was safe.

He locked eyes with Luna and she smiled despite her tears, before gesturing to the entrance. Right on time, a tentative whimper filled the room.

"L-Luna? H-Hasan?"

Hasan and Luna exchanged another glance.

"I called him." Luna whispered, holding up her ring hand. The Protean ring glinted on her finger.

"W-what's going on down here?" Neville asked, stepping further into the chamber. "What is this place?" When he reached the trio, his breath caught in his throat. "Is that? Is that Draco?" His eyes bugged in horror at the pasty blond, lying across the floor as if dead.

Luna nodded sadly. "I'm sorry Neville! I never meant it!"

"YOU? You did this?" Neville screamed in a hoarse whisper. The savior of the Wizarding world was paralyzed by the girl before him. The girl whom everyone called Loony Lovegood...what had she done to Draco?

Hasan gripped his wand.

"I'm! I'm so sorry, Neville!...But I haven't done it yet." Luna said nonsensically, tearing up. "But I wanted to apologize anyway."

Hasan shut his eyes. No! No! It was so obvious and yet fraught with so many contradictions! There had to be another way... Even as he struggled against his own unknown memories...

"Luna, I don't-" Neville protested helplessly.

"Obliviate." Hasan whispered, hitting Neville squarely in the chest with a jet of white light. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. The mantra pounding in the boy's brain. By what right did he have to take away information?

"Confundus!" Luna yelled instantly after, their spells hitting simultaneously. The Gryffindor golden boy shivered before slumping down unconscious. "You stabbed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryfindor and saved Draco from harm." Luna said clearly, swishing her wand around the boy's head.

The spell appeared to work, for Neville twitched in his dreamlike state. Satisfied, Luna beamed at Hasan as if the last hour had not happened. But Hasan knew it had. Knew it had not all been some figment of his creation. Hasan glanced around the chamber to the dead basilisk to the diary to his arm and to the bodies. It was just Hasan and Luna right now.

They were in it together.

.oOo.

Lucius sat at his desk, waiting, just waiting, for the elf to return. Dobby had been gone approximately nine minutes, and Lucius had begun to wonder what was keeping him.

Surely he hadn't been intercepted! Just as he was about to panic, Dobby had rematerialized with three hats on his head, a baggy green sweater, and a small package clutched in his hands.

"Mr. Malfoy sir must be treating Mr. Regulus' locket with great care!" Dobby squeaked in warning. "Dobby has agreed to trade his freedom for this, but Dobby is not wanting to share this evil! You must promise to destroy it, sir! Please, Mr. Malfoy sir!"

Lucius frowned down at the bundle as Dobby began to carefully unwrap it. A relatively small octagonal locket, ornamented with a green S, fell from an old silver chain.

"And what makes it so dangerous?" Lucius asked quietly.

Dobby hesitated, "I not be knowing, sir. We house-elves can just feel it, sir. Now Dobby must be off! Winky be helping Mr. Crouch with the funeral..."

With a snap the creature was gone, leaving the locket in a heap of chain on the bed. Lucius reached for his wand and cast several detecting charms, but sensed nothing in the way of wards or alarms. Well, Dobby had been so bent on destroying it, so perhaps this Kreacher had already broken through the minor protections?

He sighed and turned back to Altair's letter. Altair was waiting for him...all he had to do was send it and be done, yet he was certain that his headache wouldn't go away any time soon. In fact, Lucius had a sneaking suspicion that it would never go away until Altair willed it to. And wasn't that just a silly thought?

He wrapped the locket in a minor protection charm (for flight), before taking out some heavy parchment.

"Dear Altair,

What is the point of this? I need to know; I don't just fetch. My head is splitting and I deserve answers! My house-elf is free, no thanks to you, and my relationship with Narcissa has been disturbed by my secrecy. She suspects nothing of course, but has been out of the house for long periods of time with her friends. And I? How can she enjoy me in her life when I am all but chained to a devil's contract with you? I deserve to know: What exactly am I getting for you? Why are they dangerous? Why did my house-elf know? Is there a cure for my headaches?

Is there an end?

Sincerely,

L.A.M."

.oOo.

Severus Snape apparated just outside the Leaky Cauldron, merging into the stream of muggle pedestrians. He crossed the road at the crosswalk, and headed down until he reached the outskirts of the city.

Penelope's House, how suitable for one who's supposed to be dead. How could Altair not have known? How could Dumbledore not have known? Not for the first time, Snape wondered if his entire life was all just one practical joke. Perhaps he'd find out everyone was an actor and play back the footage of his pathetic confusion. Oh, he could only hope.

Severus turned down a lane into a small residential neighborhood, remembering bits and pieces from the pensieve memories. The area was so remote and away from Surrey that he didn't think the boy had run off, no matter how stupid he could be. Clearly, the Dursley's had hated the boy. How could Dumbledore have missed this too?

The sky began to darken into a pretty navy, with scarcely any clouds. Sickly looking grass grew by his feet and few buildings grew from the barren field. Just living here would drive a body insane! He passed by a farm and a large windmill, as well as a hill and a few other mounds. His sharp obsidian eyes were only ever on the shambles that was the orphanage. He was prepared to break through memory charms; he was prepared to break minds to get what he needed.

Had the Potter's son really made him into this? Severus sighed, knowing that this was a last reserve. Yes, Voldemort was up and about, hiding Merlin knows where, but Severus had a heart, (hidden somewhere in that black hole of his.)

He knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again. The door swung open to reveal a lanky man in overalls.

"Can I help you?" he held a book in his hand, and peering behind him, there were shelves. A library! Where was the orphanage? Had Hasan made it all up? Was Dumbledore mistaken?

"Did this used to be an orphanage?" Severus asked, his throat dry.

"Why yeah!" the man grunted, straw stuck out of his teeth. "But Social Services came after a particularly harsh complaint. So they gave the property over to me."

"And you are?"

"Ted. Won't you come in? Grab a book? You look like you like to read."

Snape tried his hardest not to sneer. "So you're a local?" he wondered.

"Yes! Been here ever since my grandpapa and my..."

Snape tuned him out and entered the decrepit the library. Compared to the Hogwarts library, this was merely a lost and found. He tried not to look around too disdainfully, slapping an awkward smile on his face.

"Do people usually come here?" Snape asked, eyes taking in the crudely cut log shelves with distaste.

"Rarely." the man snorted.

"What do they read?"

"Fiction mostly. Fantasy, Science fiction, history even!"

"The Lord of the Rings?" Snape suggested nonchalantly, turning and raising an eyebrow. The man nodded, happy to have found someone who was actually speaking with him for more than two minutes.

"Oh yes! But er- I'm missing the third book."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, he was a good boy and all so I thought he'd return it by now...guess not. It's been about two years now."

Snape nodded carefully, wondering how to formulate his sentence. His heart was pounding as it did so rarely. He was so close, he could hear the response. He knew it, he knew the answer.

"And this boy...this boy...what did he look like?"

The librarian blinked at him, then smiled. "The boy? Oh, yes, I see now. His you could never forget his eyes- they were the most extraordinary emerald."

Something in Snape's mind shattered.