The Basilisk Skin

"So, Hogwarts's rules state word for word that students have to come to school on the Hogwarts Express?" whispered Oleandra. "You mean we're not allowed to Tree-Port to school anymore?"

Today was the first of September, and Oleandra, Daphne and Astoria were currently loading their luggage into their cabin on the Hogwarts Express. 

"It's not as if things such as rules have ever stopped you before, dear Sister," Daphne said snidely. "But yes, that's how it's always been, apparently. They're taking note of who's on the train when it leaves the station. Imagine if everyone Apparated or used the Floo Network to arrive at Hogsmeade Station at the same time. It'd be chaos."

"Aha!" exclaimed Oleandra. "There's the loophole. We wait for the train to start, then Tree-Port to school to skip the ride."

"Come now, don't ruin this for Astoria," Daphne said lazily. "She's looking forward to the whole Hogwarts experience, which includes the admittedly very, very long train ride."

Oleandra stuck her head outside the window to check on the station's gigantic clock. Still two hours to go until departure.

"I might as well grab some things from the Scriptorium and get started on harvesting the Basilisk's skin while we're waiting," she said. Noticing Daphne's glare, she quickly added, "don't worry, I'll be back in time."

"You should have done that much earlier. Why wait until the last possible moment?"

Oleandra ignored her sister and closed her eyes, attempting to locate the marked potted tree she had left in Slytherin's Scriptorium.

"Wunjo, Berkana, Raidhu, Eihwaz, Dagaz," Oleandra muttered under her breath while rhythmically taking on the Tree-Portation dance's stances. And then! …

"You're still here," said Astoria.

"I can see that," said Oleandra, opening her eyes. "Let me try again."

But no matter how hard she tried, Oleandra didn't move a single inch. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead. This was very bad.

"No, no, no!" she cried. "The Basilisk skin's still down there!"

She tried again, picturing instead the acorn in the tunnel that led to the Chamber of Secrets. This time, however, the familiar effects produced by the Tree-Portation Spell occurred, and she disappeared from the compartment with a flash of black light and the sound of a wooden door creaking open, then slamming shut.

Oleandra appeared in the dark tunnel, somewhat at a loss. Why was she free to enter the Chamber of Secrets' vicinity, while the Scriptorium was off-limits? Whatever the reason, it could wait. She pulled out of her pouch a pair of enchanted scissors Madam Malkin had lent her, and she set herself to the task of cutting the Basilisk's discarded skin. Then, she headed towards the Chamber, where the beast's corpse lied abandoned. 

Oleandra pinched her nose; the serpent was beginning to decompose. She cut out a large sheet of its skin, to be used for her own robes. As she was about to leave, a thought crossed her mind. The Basilisk was supposed to possess one of the deadliest venoms of all living creatures. Such a substance was sure to be of use, right?

She walked around to the creature's front and nearly retched. The wounds that Fawkes and Harry had inflicted on it had festered, and a noxious stench was emanating from its maw. Oleandra selected a phial from her pouch and got to work milking the Basilisk, by guiding and coaxing the venom out of its fangs with her wand. This task took a while, as she had to work very carefully; if even a droplet landed on her skin, she would probably die.

It was hard to tell how much time she had spent down here, but Oleandra judged it couldn't have been more than two hours. She stored all of her things back into her pouch and started the Tree-Portation dance. Once the five-minute delay from being far underground had passed, she was whisked away to Diagon Alley, upon which she immediately headed to Madam Malkin's shop.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed, spotting Oleandra entering her shop. "What in the world are you doing here? It's the first of September, aren't you going to miss the train?"

She sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Where have you been, the sewers?" she said, pinching her nose. In a way, she wasn't far off.

"Never mind that," said Oleandra. "Here's the skins you ordered."

She produced the bloody skins that had been folded into a neat square.

"Tergeo! Scourgify!" Madam Malkin had finally had enough of the smell and cast a few cleaning spells on Oleandra and her belongings. "Phew, I can finally breathe. I was getting dizzy."

"Don't tell me you have the entire Basilisk in there," she said, pointing at the pile of skins. "These are freshly harvested, aren't they?"

"Sorry," said Oleandra sheepishly. She lied as easily as she breathed. "It's just that it smelled so bad that I didn't want to open my pouch again unless I had to."

"Well, I suppose you've held up your end of the deal," Madam Malkin said, shaking her head. "But I must say, these designs of yours don't leave much to the imagination. Are you certain—"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Oleandra, blushing slightly.

When she had drawn up her designs, she had pictured the image the Mirror of Erised had conjured from her subconscious desires when she had looked into it in her first year. Now, the mirror itself couldn't come up with anything its observer didn't already know. But locked in the depths of Oleandra's mind was the knowledge of the stars, sealed out of her reach for her own good. 

The Mirror of Erised's enchantments had ripped through her mental protections like they were made of papier-mâché to dig out her knowledge, which just went to show there was no such thing as invincible magic in this world. 

Since Oleandra's dearest wish at the time had been for power, this meant that the image the mirror had shown her was of her at her peak! This also meant her clothes' designs were optimal. Probably.

There was only one thing she couldn't remember from what the mirror had shown her, though. She couldn't picture the sigils tattooed on her limbs and forehead, as she had subconsciously ignored and flushed them out of her memory. They contained more information than her little head could currently comprehend!

"Well, I'm running out of time; I need to get back to King's Cross station," said Oleandra. "When can I expect the robes to be done?"

"A month or two, I'd say," Madam Malkin told her. "I've never worked with this material before, so it'll take some getting used to. I'll send them to Hogwarts when they're ready."

And with that, Oleandra bade her goodbye and exited the shop in a hurry.