lol, lmao, rotflmao. (I think you get the Idea )

I love this line! this is a really cool story. Keep up the good work. :dance_banana: (Peanut butter Jelly time!)

Thanks for your comments, by the way, I thought the clothes scene was a bit too long, personally, but what I put up was the abbreviated version!!! Here's the next bit:

For obvious reasons, Sam spent the next two weeks’ evenings in detention, thus missing all of the drills Mantacori was running. Having Artie speaking to her again made this much easier to bear, as he was able to report back to her. However, just having Artie speaking to her again did not necessarily mean she trusted him. Though she hated herself for it, she watched Artie’s movements on the Marauders’ Map whenever she could, and saw that many times, he stayed behind after drills to speak to Mantacori, or even Bellatrix or Regelus. She wanted desperately to know what was said at these meetings, but Sam wanted Crawley to stay with her so she had someone to talk to in detentions.
The wisp Sam had sent after Bellatrix resolved this for her though, but she’d had no opportunity to examine what it had gathered. It now lived in a jar ‘borrowed’ from the kitchens and hidden beneath Sam’s bed, where it wafted around in circles, impatient to reveal everything it had seen and heard.
Some of Sam’s detentions were with Dumbledore himself, much to Sam’s discomfort. The old wizard knew far too much (generally speaking, anyway- she doubted he really knew what Mantacori was up to) and she hated meeting his eyes. Sometimes when she arrived in his office, he would smile benevolently at her. Later, his face became cold. Finally, on the last night of her detentions, Dumbledore stopped her leaving at nine. He was sat at his desk, watching her as always, with his fingers interlaced.
“Samantha,” he halted her. Sam rolled her eyes. She resisted the temptation to snap back and correct him.
“Yes? Sir?” she added after a significant moment. Dumbledore’s smile broadened.
“I believe Kettleburn had you cleaning out the niffler cages, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied.
“And Doctor Sumner made you pull the wings off dead lacewings for her next practical?”
“And she made me disembowel horned toads,” Sam added.
“I have never yet known a potions teacher who did that job themselves. Whenever a horned toad is called for in a practical, it is amazing how accommodating they can be of pupils needing detention. Professor Mantacori made you polish all the silver items he possesses, Hagrid made you walk Fang, Professor McGonagall had you chasing the escaped rabbit from her practical that had formerly been a student- now recovered, you’ll be glad to hear- is there anything I missed out?”
“Filch made me clean Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, sir,” Sam added. Dumbledore nodded.
“And yet you’re still not wearing a uniform.”
“No sir.”
“And if I told you that everyone else who ceases to wear appropriate uniform will also be accompanied by you in their detentions, what then?” Dumbledore asked her. Sam stared at the headmaster- what was he getting at?
“Then I already know how to clean toilets, niffler cages, silver and prepare potions ingredients, and Fang’s all right really.” Dumbledore chuckled.
“You are a very wilful student,” he told her. “A pity you use it to break rules and be a general disturbance, if you will pardon my bluntness. Bear that in mind. You may go.” Sam left Dumbledore’s office feeling somewhat bemused. What had the headmaster really been trying to say? Was there something he wanted Sam to do? Did he know about the Hounds? Did he know about Mantacori? Or was he just trying to use her like everyone else?
Sam returned to Gryffindor common room, walked up to the dormitory where Karissa and the rest of the girls were sitting on two of the beds giggling in their dolly nightdresses. Sam tried to get by without them seeing, but this was impossible, no matter how much she wished otherwise.
“Well, look who it-”
“Silencio,” Sam muttered pointing her wand at Karissa whose moving mouth promptly stopped making sounds. “Much better.”
“Hey, take that off!” one of Karissa’s friends demanded. Sam couldn’t even remember her name.
“Why? So she can insult me?” Sam replied, taking off her boots and sliding them under the bed while slipping the jar into her bag unseen.
“You’re so horrible!” one of the other girls told her. Sam looked up in surprise.
“She’s the one who has to say something stupid every time she sees me!” Sam protested.
“You never even tried to fit in!” the first friend told her. “If you’re not with us, you’re against us.”
“I’m scared,” Sam replied sarcastically. “I’ll remove the hex before I go to sleep if I’m in a good mood.” With that, she walked out of the dormitory and took out the map. All was clear on the other side of the portrait, so she sneaked out and began walking towards a set of girls’ loos which weren’t haunted.
She thought she’d been paying close attention to it when she realised McGonagall was heading her way from one direction, and Filch was coming from the other. Sam hurried to the stairs and began running up them as fast as she could go. Behind her, she saw McGonagall enter the stairways, but just as the staircase Sam had been on changed direction. The transfiguration teacher didn’t seem to notice her.
At that moment, however, the next staircase Sam had been on swung away, leaving her stranded in a strange part of the school. With nothing better to do, Sam began to follow the strange corridor, which rapidly became so dark she could barely see without her wand lit. Ancient, warped, iron torch brackets decorated the walls, being held in the claws of fearsome gargoyles. In niches all the way along these corridors, former teachers were immortalised in stone statuettes bearing carved legends as to who they were and their achievements. The windows, she realised, let in next to no light due to the fact they were filled with stained glass, though here and there, a pane had cracked and fallen out. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, and pieces of glass from the broken panes still lay there. Clearly, Filch did not come this way.
Up ahead, a whole section of corridor had broken away from the rest and begun slide away at an angle. The air seemed to tingle with old magics. Sam regarded the map: the Broken Wing, the Marauders had named this place, though Sam had long since left the area they had mapped. She hurried across the broken section of corridor and started peering into the rooms either side of her. Many were door-less, and many others had doors that had long ago come away from their hinges. She saw a room with what appeared to be a huge, octagonal stone font in the middle of it, filled with water. In another room, shelves upon shelves of maps rolled up into bundles, though a few lay spread open and brittle on the ageing, cracked leather of the desks. Here she saw cauldrons, some half melted, there she saw a crystal ball taller than she was, and surrounded by a ring of seven, and a ring of twelve.
All these rooms seemed… dormant. It was strange, but it was as though these rooms were just waiting for someone to re-awake them. It was not, she decided, going to be her. She had almost reached the end of the wing, which had zigzagged the entire length, when she came to a large, open, stone arch leading into a small hall. This room felt friendly to her. This room wanted company, not power. It welcomed her, rather than tempted her to come in.
The floor was covered in mosaic tiles and the windows were full of leaded panes of crystal. Its original purpose wasn’t clear, but Sam felt so at peace here that she sat down on the floor, strangely dustless, and sighed contentedly. Then, remembering why she had left the common room in the first place, she took out the jar and released the wisp.
“Show me,” she told the wisp. What followed completely overwhelmed her. She was seeing ten days of memories squeezed into ten minutes. The wisp seemed to explode around her, projecting memories of other rooms on to the empty hall, and seemingly transporting Sam to each of these places. It all happened so fast that Sam swayed sickeningly and fell on to her back, eyes open but unseeing, her mind absorbing everything that happened.
When it was over, the wisp simply dissipated and left Sam lying there alone, laughing madly and completely out of her mind.

Great post, as always. *thumbs up* can't wait to read more.

I want more more more (but don't post unless you want to, I never want anyone to say I am pushy! MORE!!!!) :sorcerer:

When Sam finally regained her senses, morning light was starting to filter in through the windows and Sam realised to her horror that she had been gone all night. She ran through the school to get back to Gryffindor common room before too many people noticed, then remembered that Karissa was still silenced.
Sam contemplated leaving her that way.
With an evil smirk on her face, she casually walked up to the girls’ dorm, doing her best to make it all seem intentional. As she slipped the empty jar back under her bed, Karissa woke up and scowled at her. She pointed at Sam, then made a slitting-her-throat gesture. Sam shrugged and replied with a cruder gesture before jumping on to her bed and yawning. She twirled her wand around her fingers and pretended to ignore Karissa.
“Oh what the hell, Sonorus,” she said eventually, casting the counter-hex at Karissa who immediately launched into a tirade about Sam. For her part, Sam ignored it all, took out her notepad and started jotting down as much of last night’s revelations as she remembered.
Bellatrix would be joining the Death Eaters as soon as she could get out of school. It was doubtful she would even stay for the exams. As she had feared, Artisan was partially aware of what was going on. Artie never would have been picked for the Hounds normally- he had no special talent, much as Sam had thought at the start of term. He was only a Hound for as long as Sam was, though Mantacori had taken pity on him and had been giving him additional lessons. Bellatrix was trying to get Artie to spy on her, but he had refused thus far. Even so, Sam would have to watch what she said in front of him now.
She hexed the notepad to hide everything she’d written and then, just to be doubly sure, hid it in the canopy of her four poster bed. She lay back on her bed and smiled the smug smile of someone who knows they have the upper hand. Just then, she heard a yell from outside the girls’ dorms and heard a loud bell ringing, followed by laughter from the common room. Curious, Sam left the girls’ dorm and went to run down the stairs-
But ended up slipping and sliding down the steep slope they’d suddenly formed. She hit the ground next to Charlie with a bump, accompanied by more laughter from people in the common room. Her cousin was looking somewhat red-faced.
“I was trying to find you,” Charlie said breathlessly. “Madame Beauvarisse is here.” Sam’s eyes widened with delight.
“Thanks Charlie!” she exclaimed, before running out of the common room.

There was a lot of commotion in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. A great many students were carrying luggage into the school, while others were carrying it to the guests’ quarters. A few of the staff were there meeting and greeting the guests, and Dumbledore was chatting amiably in French to a glamourous-looking woman in a long, green velvet gown.
“Madame!” Sam called, running down the rest of the stairs and throwing her arms around Madame Beauvarisse, who laughed and patted Sam on the back.
“/It’s been so long!/” Sam told her (/in French/). “/Why didn’t you write back to me? Is everything all right? Why have you come now?/”
“/Everything is fine, Sam,/” Madame replied gently. “/At least at home, it is. Here it would seem there are grave matters to address. Several necromancers have reported that Lord Voldemort has approached them and seems to be seeking a way of evading death. It breaks all the rules!/” Madame laughed wickedly. Sam giggled back. “/I will speak with you later, I promise,/” Madame continued. “/Do you remember Khyath Segur?/” She pointed to a handsome boy of eighteen or nineteen years, also dressed in green, with long, flowing blond hair. He turned and saw Sam and his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Sam!” he cried, breaking away from his conversation with Professor Kettleburn. “How are you? Is the school treating you well? I alvays thought you should have gone to Durmstrang,” he added quietly, with a brief glance at Dumbledore.
“I’m fine,” Sam replied, trying desperately not to blush. Khyath was a very handsome young man, and over-flowing with a good nature. “I haven’t seen you since-”
“Your ninth birthday, I remember,” Khyath replied. “You’ve grown.” Sam grinned and shyly looked at the ground. “I vould be honoured if you vould-” Khyath broke off and stared past Sam’s shoulder to some commotion that had started up behind her. One by one, all the other conversations between guests broke off as they turned to stare.
“Well, who ARE you going with?” Dolly’s shrill voice pierced the friendly atmosphere of the entrance hall. Regelus was under siege by four girls, including Bella who looked highly amused. Dolly was quite red in the face and the other girls, whom Sam recognised as being third years, were looking somewhat put-out.
“Yes, dear cousin,” Bellatrix told him. “Do tell us.” Sam looked at Khyath.
“A friend of yours?” he asked, noting the anxious look on her face.
“No… not really, I don’t think,” Sam replied nervously. She couldn’t bear to think that Regelus would end up with Dolly, and yet she knew he was part of Mantacori’s plot to secure her services for Voldemort.
“Sam,” Khyath said, squeezing her shoulder. “Promise me a dance.”
“What?” Sam asked, turning to look at him.
“He’s been stood there some time, glaring at me, vhile ve vere talking,” Khyath said hastily. “My father taught me to be a diplomat, to continue in his steps. Right now, that means I vill step aside.
“It’s vhat you vould prefer.” Sam looked at Khyath with tears threatening to form in her eyes.
“Khyath, really, if you want to go to the dance with me-” she began, but suddenly she heard Regelus call out her name.
“Sam! Sam, over here!” he yelled. Sam looked at Khyath apologetically and then walked as quickly as she could with dignity towards the four glaring girls. “I asked you to the dance, remember?” Regelus asked her. The pleading look in his eyes was unbearable.
“Yes, and I gave you my answer,” Sam replied, feeling a little, dark thrill at suddenly holding this power over him.
“And?” Dolly demanded.
“I said yes, of course,” Sam replied, and utterly failed to stop herself breaking into a smile at the horrified look on Dolly’s face.
“Sickening,” Bella said. “I should have known you’d go soft.” As she swept herself away, Sam caught a grave look of concern settle on Regelus’ face. This wasn’t just about her, she realised.
In her mind’s eye, the skull next to Regelus’ name change to a moon.

hmmmm, more to ponder! :flowersmile:

Regelus leaned against the wall and laughed with relief, but Sam swiftly turned on her heel and began to walk back towards Khyath.
“Sam, wait!” he called after her, and he chased her down and grabbed her shoulder. “Look, you don’t mind, do you?” He stared pointedly at Khyath who had a mildly innocent look on his face. At any moment, Sam suspected he could start twiddling his thumbs and whistling. She broke into a smile. The Segur family were famed for hospitality and friendliness; they also one of the rare European wizarding families who openly accepted all wizards and witches into their home, pure-bloods and Muggle-borns, necromancers, Parselmouths, animagi, werewolves… anybody, but vampires.
“You were going with him, weren’t you?” Regelus asked Sam flatly.
“He was about to ask me,” Sam replied defensively. “And I’ve promised him a dance. I thought I’d bail you out, though.” She was pleased to see her comment had ruffled Regelus.
“I could have handled it without you,” he replied.
“Oh yes? Without resorting to blasting people apart?” Sam replied, raising an eyebrow. Regelus grinned sheepishly.
“Fine. But you’re okay with this?” he asked. Sam rolled her eyes. “Great. Don’t worry about a dress- I’ll get you something. I really owe you. Ugh, to think I nearly ended up going with Dolly just to get Bella off my back.”
“What’s up with that, anyway?” Sam asked him. Regelus shook his head.
“Can’t tell you.”
“Won’t tell me,” Sam replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’ll see you at the next drill now Dumbledore’s released me.”
“Yeah, word of that’s spreading,” Regelus said. “Wait ‘til you see Artie.”
“What?” Sam called after him, but Regelus was already walking away. Sam walked back to Khyath and sighed. “You knew all that was coming, didn’t you?” she accused him. Khyath’s innocent expression took on a farcical edge.
“Vhatever do you mean?” he asked her. Sam folded her arms.
“When we first met, you called me Sam. Nobody ever calls me Sam the first time we meet. It’s always ‘Samantha’,” she said, saying her name in a daft voice. “So, spill.”
“I might have had an inkling,” Khyath replied. “In truth, all my family have been seeing of late. Terrible murders of small children, a boy, in fact, and his parents. But the images flicker. Sometimes it is one family, sometimes it is another, as though destiny itself is not yet resolved.” Khyath shrugged. “You, however, it is all too clear,” he told her, his face turning serious.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Sam demanded, her voice hushed and so rapid she nearly tripped over the words. Khyath gripped both of her shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes.
“You… You are hiding something from me… Something in your dormitory… You have Muggle chocolate hidden in your room!” He announced, grabbing Sam and tickling her until she fell to the ground screaming out for mercy. The other guests looked on disapprovingly.
“That’s not fair!” Sam said, giving him a very gentle shove. “You know I always have a secret supply.”
“True,” Khyath replied. “But I had you worried for a moment then.” He looked sombre for a brief, passing moment, and Sam thought he was about to add something to his statement.
“Is there something else?” Sam asked. “Seriously?”
“Serious…” Khyath whispered, staring into the middle distance, remembering something at the very edge of his mind. He snapped out of it and looked at Sam. Offering his hand down to help her up, he looked at her apologetically. “Not yet. I can not be sure, and until I am sure, I vill not say a vord.”

It was therefore a somewhat confused Sam who made her way into breakfast that morning, which was noisier than usual as only a skeleton crew of staff were watching over the students (the rest of the staff were entertaining the guests). As Sam walked dazedly to her seat, frowning to herself and nothing in particular, she completely failed to see Karissa’s foot and she ended up tripping over it and falling flat on to her face. Sam felt a sharp pain in her nose that felt like it had just exploded messily across her face. She could taste blood, and her head swam sickeningly when she tried to lift herself up from the floor.
“Aw, poor Sam. Got a date for tomorrow night, have you?” Karissa jeered. Sam gave it one last Herculean effort and lifted herself groggily to her feet. Many people at the table gasped with horror, and some looked away, nauseated. Blood was flowing freely down her face, dripping down her clothes and on to her hands. Karissa burst out laughing. “Ha! She’s broken her nose! Let’s see you fix that!” she shrieked with laughter as Charlie leapt out of his seat and grabbed Sam’s arm supportively.
“Come on,” he hissed in her ear, leading her out of the Great Hall. She became aware that someone else had grabbed her other arm and turned to see Nigel Timmins there as well. He looked absolutely livid- a frightening expression in the mild boy she had met on the train.
The two boys helped her to get to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey greeted them with a cry of horror and demanded to know what had happened.
“I tripped,” Sam said swiftly, glaring bloodily at the two boys. Nigel looked as though he would burst, but he soon looked concerned as Pomfrey began dabbing away the blood from Sam’s ruined nose, and Sam winced with pain.
“I should be able to repair this,” she told Sam. “You’re very lucky- nothing actually broken, but you’ll have to stay here all day so I can make a good job of it. You two boys can leave now so I can concentrate.”
She watched Charlie and Nigel leave, talking in low whispers, and then Madam Pomfrey made her drink a horrible tasting potion. As soon as she swallowed it, Sam started to panic. She couldn’t feel her feet! It was like the most terrible pins and needles, making her limbs feel so heavy and loose she couldn’t move them. The sensation spread rapidly up to her knees, her thighs, her stomach, her chest, her arms, neck- until with one final, panicked gasp at Madam Pomfrey, she collided with unconsciousness.

“She’ll wake soon, Madame.”
“Merci.” A hand was resting on her shoulder. She could remember this… Madame’s chateau had been attacked by Dementors and Magdalene, Madame’s oldest servant, had been so worried, but she had told Sam it would be all right as long as they could find Madame. They ran and ran, but Sam had got slower and slower and all she could see was the moment she had watched her mother lose her arm. She’d felt cold hands gripping her head in a vice-like grip, then a strange sensation, as though she was leaving her body, and nothing but an acidic, corrosive black death had awaited her.
Then she had been lying on a bed, and Madame was beside her and Magdalene was weeping with a smile on her face, and everything was all right.
She opened her eyes.
Madame did not look happy.
“/How could you let that girl do that to you? You should have struck her back! Necromancers do not allow others to shame them!/”
“/I’m sorry, Madame,/” Sam mumbled. Madame Beauvarisse shook her head and sighed.
“/Necromancers are the last among the old nobility of wizards and witches! We can not be seen to be weak! The Magi foolishly submit themselves to registration, the Parselmouths are separate and afraid of each other- only we remain united./”
“/What do you expect me to do?/” Sam snapped. She had thought Madame had come to comfort her, not berate her. Dumbledore would have had her back in detention sooner than she could have said ‘Flobberworm’ had she retaliated against Karissa; now she had earned Madame’s scorn for NOT fighting back.
“/Strike back,/” Madame told her quietly. “/Make her know what it is to cross a necromancer. I am sure you will find some suitable punishment. Now, on to other things. Dumbledore seems to suspect you have fallen in with a strange crowd. Tell me everything. If you leave out a single word, it will be all the worse for you./”
And so Sam began telling her story from the beginning, from Peeves to Filch, to Karissa and Dolly, Regelus and Bella, Artie and Mantacori. At times, she had to stop and gulp down a mouthful of water to stop her throat burning and causing her to cry. She told Madame of Quirrel, and of the Death Eaters at the wedding, and she spoke of the blond-haired wizard she had met in Diagon Alley who had tried to kidnap her. At that, Madame nodded gravely, as though she had been expecting it.
By the time Sam had finished her story, night was beginning to fall outside. Madame got to her feet, her curiosity sated, and nodded her head solemnly to Sam.
“Bon nuit,” she purred, before sweeping grandly out of the infirmary. Regelus, who arrived just as she was leaving, watched her go with an impressed look on his face.
“Not at all what I thought a master necromancer would look like,” he told Sam, taking care to keep his voice down. “Listen, my mother’s sending something- it’ll be here some time tomorrow afternoon.” Sam tried to look cheerful, but failed. She didn’t particularly want an ancient hand-me-down. “You look fine, by the way. Madam Pomfrey’s fixed your nose. That Verling’s quite vicious, isn’t she? Do you, uh, want me and Slatero to have a word with her?”
“No!” Sam exclaimed suddenly. “I don’t need your help!” Regelus looked hurt, and Sam immediately regretted her tone of voice. “I mean… I think I can do this alone. I sort of need to, really.” Regelus nodded.
“We’ll be keeping an eye out, anyway. You’re a Hound. You don’t have to take this from anyone.” Sam’s smile came out lopsidedly. She was a necromancer. She was a Hound. She was a little girl. She was what everybody else thought she was.
Didn’t anybody think she was Sam?

Such a great story!!

Keep it coming :flowersmile:

I just finally got time to read this again. it's a really great story and I like how it's going. keep up the good work.

PAMS

Thanks for the kind comments, everyone- here's the next bit. I had a lot to write for this part!

Sam had meant to head back to Gryffindor common room to sleep, but the moment she had stepped inside the empty girls’ dormitory, she’d felt her stomach tighten up and make her feel queasy. She didn’t want to be here when Karissa got back. It was stupid- there were so many things she could have done to Karissa and yet, when it came down to it, it was still four witches against one.
She snatched up her book bag and put the music box, the Marauders’ map and Crawley inside it and hurried out of Gryffindor tower, running all the way to the Broken Wing. She went straight back to the friendly hall she had found before and grinned deliciously as she opened the music box and spoke aloud the name of the tune she wanted. Well, let Karissa have the dorm, at least Sam still had something that was completely hers. As she danced, Crawley wove in and out of her steps, never once tripping, and she never once standing on him.
When she’d exhausted herself, she curled up on the floor and slept there instead. She woke early next morning, as soon as the sun rose, and hurried down to one of the girls’ bathrooms to have a quick wash before going down to breakfast. She sat down alone except for a couple of prefects in the Great Hall and fed bits of sausage to Crawley discretely. By the time the rest of the school were emerging sleepy-eyed from their dorms, Sam had already finished breakfast. She hurried out of the Great Hall and went to find somewhere quiet to wait before lessons.
She was hiding. She was avoiding. Madame would not be pleased, but Sam was scared. In Gryffindor, only her cousin Charlie had moved to help her when Karissa had made her fall. She was just heading along to the library when Crawley dropped out of her bag.
Crawley! Sam hissed at him urgently, but he completely ignored her and set off at speed along the corridor. Panic stricken, Sam chased after him, hissing his name, begging him to stop. He was leading her into the dungeons; she wasn’t sure where she was. This wasn’t where they had lessons, or where the Slytherins dwelled. It was dark and forgotten, like the Broken Wing. Crawley was too far ahead of her- she couldn’t see where he was.
She heard Crawley suddenly hiss in alarm. She forced herself to run faster, terrified that something had happened to him. She turned the corner. There was a large gap in the wall. Sam ran to it and peered down, hissing Crawley’s name. Something responded that wasn’t Crawley. It was much bigger.
“Everbero!” someone called behind her. Sam was hit hard from behind, causing her to topple forward into the dark hole. She didn’t fall very far- in fact, there were steps leading out- but Bella was leering at her from the entrance, holding a limp, stupefied Crawley in one hand and slowly closing the passage with the other.
The stones closed in on her. She was in absolute darkness. She ran her hands over the slimy, damp walls and her lip curled in disgust as she stood on something that crunched unpleasantly beneath her foot. She tried pressing her hands against the stones, but nothing moved and offered her an escape. Perhaps it was a tunnel, she reasoned. It had to lead somewhere, surely? Lighting her wand with a quick gasp of “Lumos” under her breath, she jumped back in revulsion to see that she had stepped on the skeleton of a mouse. Skeletons lined all the parts of this section of tunnel, some small mice, some rats, rabbits even and… and cats? Dogs? And… and was that a horse?!
As she clambered over the skeletons, she stumbled into a sphere of darkness that the meagre light from her wand couldn’t penetrate. The room was big enough to have something else in it besides herself. Her heart began to pound against her ribs.
She knew enough about snakes to have a very good idea what she was up against here. After all, before Crawley, she had encountered many snakes and her parents had been very keen to research them because of her. Knowing this did not make her feel any better. Anything large enough to eat a horse would have no trouble whatsoever eating her.
She needed more light, and she needed her bearings, so she clung to the walls and edged along them, searching them for any sign of a light switch or an exit.
Then it struck her.
This was all purpose built. Someone had deliberately created this, quite possibly for the purpose of housing some monstrous serpent, though where it was at that moment, she wasn’t sure. The whole area buzzed with a life, something so huge that it overwhelmed her ability to pinpoint it, not that she was an expert in doing that. If only Beauvarisse had been here with her! Or Crawley! But no, she was on her own.
She consoled herself with that thought. At least, no matter what she did here, no one would find out about it.
She summoned to her tongue the Old Words. Ghosts of flames that had once burnt in the torch brackets leapt to un-life in their old haunts and filled the area with a dead, half-light. It was enough to see by, and what Sam saw took her breath away. A massive stone head, with hair streaming out like Medusa’s serpents, stared at fearsomely. The mouth seemed outlined in carving much deeper than the rest of the details… more like cracks… or a hinge. A door! Sam grinned with relief. She’d known there was another exit somewhere.
“Alohomora!” she yelled, aiming her wand at the mouth of the statue. Nothing happened. Sam frowned, but she wasn’t going to be defeated yet. This was a place built for a huge serpent… now, had it been Sam who had built it, she wouldn’t have kept a wild creature here. No, she’d have wanted some control over it.
She stared at the mouth.
Open, she hissed. The mouth of the statue began to slide downwards revealing a thick blackness behind it- not the blackness of a distant spot where light couldn’t reach, but the blackness of some huge, dark thing waiting just behind.
That wasn’t the exit.
Close! Close! Sam hissed as loudly as she could, running for cover at the same time and peering out from behind a large, stone snake’s head. She felt the huge, serpentine life force shift impatiently, and felt a slight regret that it would remain trapped. A dark smirk appeared on her face. Of course, if she released it, she could use it to hunt down Bellatrix! Ha! That would show her once and for all! Then, feeling the despair of having not found an exit at all, she sat down miserably on the damp ground and buried her head in her knees. It was hopeless.
Hours could have passed, Sam wasn’t sure except that her stomach was growling with hunger. She peered out of cover, staring at the statue she had nearly opened. Who was the man? She was starting to get a good idea. The snakes… now which house did she know had a snake for its emblem? And who would have been there at Hogwarts’ construction to have included this chamber and the tunnels?
“Slytherin,” Sam breathed in awe, and once again sorely regretted not being a Slytherin herself. What had Gryffindor ever done that was a sign of such power as this? What had made Ravenclaw so worthy of a house? What had Hufflepuff ever left besides her name? She felt humbled, and at the same time, defiant as she marched towards the stone head and glared at its eyes.
He must have had a way out. She only knew of one entrance, so that had to be the way out. After all, Slytherin wasn’t still down here, was he? Slightly giddy and head throbbing from lack of food and drink, Sam sighed and began to clamber back through the mossy, slimy tunnel she had come down. At the top, she used her wand to search for any sign of a switch, but saw only the carving of a snake.
Open, she tried, and rolled her eyes when the door slid open. Well, she would remember for next time… only Parselmouths could escape the chamber. She didn’t think Bella was a Parselmouth. She tried to grin, but it turned into a grimace of pain as she staggered down the corridor and tried to find the kitchens. The light in the corridors had altered, the sun had swung around and was starting to set. How long had she been gone for?
Food. Drink. Her body was most insistent. As she walked, her feet kicked an empty glass bottle. Frowning, she scooped it up and read the label.
Snake pheromones.
She smashed the bottle. Food and drink could wait. She started hissing Crawley’s name as loudly as she dared. How dare Bellatrix take Crawley captive?! She would make her pay, that was for sure. She called and called for Crawley, but she couldn’t locate him anywhere. If only she’d paid more attention in her classes with Madame, then maybe she could have pinpointed where he was, but as such, she couldn’t.
“Sam!” Regelus came pale-faced around the corner with Quirrel in tow. “Bellatrix made some vague comment about you disappearing. What the hell happened?” he demanded, looking Sam up and down. Her clothes were sodden with damp, slimy and mossy she had the overall appearance of someone who had been buried in damp earth for a few years.
“There’s a secret passage back there,” Sam said, pointing back along the corridor. “There’s something huge down there, a giant snake-” Quirrel winced at the word. “What?” Both boys looked very grave.
“Dumbledore knows you’re a Parselmouth,” Quirrel said. “And he knows about Crawley. If he were to find out about some giant snake in the school, you’d be for the chop for sure.”
“An unfortunate choice of phrase, but yeah, you’d be out of here tonight,” Regelus added. He out a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Come to Slytherin to get washed and dressed, okay? Dumbledore won’t do anything during the dance, so at least we can prolong the judgement.”
“Judgement?” Sam asked weakly. “What? Are they trying to kick me out?”
“Yeah, Mantacori and Beauvarisse are fighting your case. That lady’s scary, no offence, I’m sure Dumbledore will listen to her. As for Mantacori, well, he pulled your neck out of the noose before.” Sam remembered all too well- her very first night in Hogwarts. She followed the boys to Slytherin, and they stood guard outside the bathroom while she washed and dressed, preventing anyone going in and seeing the Gryffindor they’d smuggled in, though she did hear Artie strike up a conversation. He was no fool.
Looking a little more human, Sam stared into the mirror and scowled inwardly at the lost little girl staring back at her, but she pined for Crawley. Where was he? With every passing moment, she began to fear the worst. When she’d arrived in Slytherin, she’d called his name, but still had received no response. Where had Bellatrix hidden him?
A brown paper parcel lay unopened before her on one of the sinks. Well, whether or not it was some awful hand-me-down from Regelus’ mother, she was stuck with it now. She tore off the paper carefully, held the dress up against herself, eyes wide in surprise. The dress was new, that much she could tell just from the smell, and it was made of beautiful green and black velvet. There were even lace fingerless gloves to go with it, and a pair of elegant black shoes. A silver snake broach finished the gifts.
When Sam left the bathroom, she found only Quirrel waiting there. He smiled a rare, genuine smile at her.
“You look wonderful,” he commented. “Regelus’ mother has excellent taste in such things. The broach is from her, I presume?” Sam nodded. “Regelus will be down presently-” Sam’s stomach growled and Quirrel slapped his forehead dramatically. “Food and drink, yes! On the table over there!” he said, pointing to a plate of ham rolls and a jug of water left there. Sam hurried over and wolfed down a ham roll happily. She took her time over the second, poured and drank a glass of water, got halfway through a third roll, and then turned to Quirrel.
“Where’s Crawley?” she asked him. Quirrel opened his mouth and paused to think.
“That really can wait until tomorrow. Dumbledore will explain, I’m sure.”
“Explain what?” Sam yelled, her voice rising in pitch as she stood up again. “Where is he?” Quirrel held out his hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture.
“If I promise to show you after the dance, will you be quiet and have a good time? Nothing’s going to change in the meantime, Sam, I promise. Please?” Sam eyed him warily, but she reluctantly nodded.
“He’s all right though, isn’t he?” she asked softly.
“Who’s all right?” Regelus walked confidently out of the stairway leading to the dormitories looking like a Goth-ed Jane Austen hero. Sam felt herself swoon inwardly, but she wouldn’t be put off.
“Crawley,” she told him. “Quirrel’s taking me to him tonight.”
“Is he now?” Regelus asked, though his question was more directed at Quirrel and Sam was surprised to see a twinge of jealousy in his expression. “I’ll come too, of course.”
“Of course,” Quirrel replied neutrally.
“Sam, will you join me?” Regelus asked her grandly, holding out his arm for her to take. Sam slid her arm round his elbow and they walked grandly out of the Slytherin common room together.
But Sam was still a little suspicious. They hadn’t answered her question.

They drew many envious glances at the dance- Sam was amazed how many of the boys were staring at her in amazement. She was the outcast. She’d done everything in her power to be an outcast. The last thing she needed now was to be liked, especially with the likes of Karissa Verling around.
Sure enough, Verling was there and dancing with one of the Gryffindor boys, although Sam was pleased to see that she was not very good at it. With a sudden urge to show-off, she politely excused herself from Regelus for one dance and found Khyath. Khyath had been one of the many people who had taught Sam to dance- her parents had hoped to distract her from the more morbid sides of their research with dance lessons –and they whirled around the dance floor to the clapping of the other students. After that, Karissa didn’t appear on the dance floor.
Apart from that petty vengeance, Sam spent the entire evening with Regelus. He was charming as ever, seeming more and more genuine as Sam got to know him, though she began to detect a change in the air with the Hounds. Whereas before, Regelus would have been surrounded by Hounds, now only a few came to chat to him. She told herself it was because Bellatrix was captain, but the many stood with her kept throwing her and Regelus dirty looks all evening. There was something menacing about Bellatrix too. She had taken no partner for the dance, and instead sat at her table like an overseeing monarch, heavily lidded eyes darting around the hall.
“She’s got a boyfriend, you know,” Regelus said when he caught Sam staring at her. “Rodulphus Lestrange. Strange man, a little older than darling Bellatrix. Still, you’ve got to admire her faithfulness to him.”
“I’d find it hard to admire anything in Bella,” Sam replied under her breath.
“She’s very dedicated to her cause,” Regelus defended.
“The wrong cause,” Sam growled. Regelus froze.
“What do you know about that?” he hissed leaning across their table until his nose was almost touching Sam’s. Then, realising that they looked very suspicious, he kissed her quickly on the lips and sat back down. “You shouldn’t know anything about that! Mantacori-”
“Will wipe my memory if I so much as breathe a word of this!” Sam hissed back at him. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“He’d… He actually said that?” Regelus asked her carefully. Sam nodded, and Regelus looked up at the staff table where Mantacori was happily gulping down a goblet of wine. He scowled and turned back to Sam. “If you know what we’re up to, why aren’t you trying to stop us? Are you with us?”
“No,” Sam replied firmly.
“So, you’re against us,” Regelus sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that Sam, I really am.” He sighed and sat back in his chair casually. “Do yourself a favour. Get out while you still can. Soon, really soon, there’ll come a point of no return for you.” He finished his drink too quickly and swayed a little in his seat. “One last dance, Sam?”
After the dance, Regelus left. Seeing her alone, Khyath kept her company, but Sam was worried. Had that message been for her, or for Regelus himself?
She never did get chance to speak to Madame Beauvarisse all evening, but she did, however, have a run in with Hagrid.
“All righ’ Sam?” Hagrid asked with a false cheerfulness.
“Not really,” Sam replied. “What are you so worried about?” she asked, for Hagrid was looking terribly uncomfortable.
“Ah, yeh’d best speak to Dumbledore, he’d, ah, tell yeh.”
“Dumbledore?” Sam’s eyes suddenly widened. “Hagrid, where’s the snake? Where’s the rattlesnake?”
“Sam, yeh know yeh can’t have a dangerous animal like that in the school-” Hagrid began, but Sam yelled over the top of him.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” she screamed, pounding Hagrid’s chest hopelessly, and it suddenly became so clear. “WHERE IS HE?!” The hall had turned completely silent at Sam’s screaming and every eye was on her, but she didn’t care. Tears were streaming down her face as she gave another cry of rage. Quirrel hurried over to her and dragged her away by the arm. She barely got out of the hall before bursting into hysterical sobs into Quirrel’s shoulder.
“Come on, I’ll take you to him,” Quirrel said gently, leading her out into the grounds. They wandered down towards Hagrid’s hut and to where a shovel was leaning against the wall. Just in front of it-
Sam threw up.
“It was very quick. I doubt he felt anything,” Quirrel said, trying to soothe her.
“I SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE!” Sam screamed, dropping to her knees. “I should have been here with him! I’d never have let this happen!” She cried inconsolably for a good twenty minutes with Quirrel holding her shoulders. Quirrel gave up his cloak and Sam carefully wrapped Crawley’s body, and then his head, into it to take it away.
They walked silently back to the school, and Sam headed straight for the Broken Wing. There she lay down on the floor, closed her eyes and hoped that in the morning she would wake up and none of this would have happened.

Crawley!!!!! No!!!!!!!! *cries*

I hate snakes... but still... Crawley was different... I can still picture him shaking the baby rattle. *Sobs*

RIP Crawley... we'll miss you little buddy.


BTW, great post. Can't wait to find out what's next.

Oh-no!!!!

Bye Crawley

Sorry about the delay- I blame my lecturers for giving me work to do.
There is a drug reference in this next section. Nothing graphic or icky, but it's there all the same.

Still wearing the dress from the night before, Sam left the Broken Wing in the morning feeling stiff all over and emotionally exhausted. She drifted like a ghost back down to the secret chamber where Bellatrix had trapped her long enough for… for terrible things to happen, and carefully placed Quirrel’s cloak with the snake inside it on the floor of the tunnel near the entrance. She didn’t want to bury him for worms to eat. She didn’t want to destroy him and have nothing left of him. She didn’t know what to do, so she closed the door and walked in the direction of breakfast.
“There you are!” The combined anxious and stern voice of Professor McGonagall caught her unawares and made her jump. “None of the girls in Gryffindor had seen… where on earth have you been?” Sam shrugged, staring at the floor. “Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with you in his office right away, Miss Weasley and… whatever’s the matter?” she finished, her tone softening, but Sam refused to look up.
“Nothing,” she replied bitterly. McGonagall was a teacher; the teachers had killed her snake. “I’ll go see the Headmaster now.”
“‘Vanilla Fudge’, Samantha,” McGonagall told her. Sam made no response and dragged herself up the stairs towards Dumbledore’s office. Every step took her away from Crawley, and every second was one more second without him. She felt like her heart was bleeding dry inside of her chest. She barely breathed ‘vanilla fudge’ at Dumbledore’s door, and not even the marvellous staircase amazed her anymore.
She knocked twice.
“Come in, Samantha,” Dumbledore called. Sam pushed open the door and, without waiting to be told, sat down on the nearest chair and stared at the floor. Dumbledore was pouring himself a cup of tea into a silver tea cup from an ornate silver teapot. “Madame Beauvarisse is absolutely furious with me. I spent this morning in the Infirmary with a black eye that she left me before storming out of the castle. No doubt you’ll believe I deserved this.” He spoke utterly calmly. Sam toyed with one of the strange contraptions on a table, spinning it round so that it made a series of soft chiming noises. “Where did the snake come from? Whoever let you have it did you no favours.”
Chime. Chime. Chime.
“Samantha, are you even going to look at me? Are you going to say anything?”
Chime. Chime. Ch-
“Silencio.” Sam looked up to see Dumbledore putting his wand away again and staring at her over the top of his spectacles. “Ah, we have your attention at last.”
“His name was Crawley,” Sam croaked. “And he never hurt anyone.”
“Bellatrix Black seems to believe you threatened her with that snake, and Dolores Umbridge has been unable to go anywhere near the transfiguration classroom since Quirrel transformed her quill into a snake. You can understand why I’m suspicious.” Sam got to her feet angrily.
“So I’m a horrible person! But I’m surrounded by horrible people in this horrible school! Crawley was the one friend I could completely trust and you had him killed just because I scared Dolly and Bella!”
“He was dangerous,” Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly. Wouldn’t he get angry? Wouldn’t he argue properly with her? “I made sure his death was humane, but I really had no choice but to kill him. Would you rather I’d handed him over to the potions labs to be used in a concoction there? Hagrid told me the body has gone. I granted you that.
“I have also spoken to your parents who were astonished to say the least. However, we have all agreed to allow you stay in the school. Samantha-” Dumbledore added, walking up to her and putting his hand on her shoulder. “You aren’t ready for the responsibilities you’re trying to bring down on yourself.” Sam coldly shook him off.
“You don’t know half of what goes on in this school,” she hissed threateningly at him. “And I’m in a much better position than you to decide what I should and shouldn’t do! And right now, I know what I should be doing, and it’s not here listening to a murderer justifying the execution of an innocent friend! I’ll never, ever forgive you.” With that, she span on her heel and marched out of Dumbledore’s office with not a care for what the headmaster would say or do, because she had been telling the truth.
She knew exactly what she should have been doing.
It has been said that Sam’s parents arranged for her to have dance lessons in order to distract her from reading too much of their research into the Dark Arts. Bellatrix was about to find out exactly what Bert and Iris had been most afraid of in their daughter.
She wasn’t sure where to start looking for Bellatrix, only that a raging grief was currently filling the void where her heart had once been. Her world seemed to fill with a red mist. One spell was running through her mind, the incantation beating within her where a pulse should have been. Crawley had been a calming influence on Sam- without him…
She barked one of the old words without caring who heard her as she marched through the school towards Slytherin House. A series of ghostly, white lights appeared around her and she barked at them to find Bellatrix. They scattered in all directions searching the school for her, while Sam sat down on a stone seat and waited for them to return.
Artie came walking past. He stopped dead when he saw Sam.
“Why are you still in your dress?” he asked her, taking a seat beside her.
“Don’t get involved, Artie,” she replied coldly. She still wasn’t sure just how far she could trust him.
“Sam… you look scary,” Artie said quietly. “Really… you’re going to do something terrible aren’t you? Has Dolly done something?”
“Ha!” Sam laughed humourlessly. The lights were returning, bobbing along a particularly excited light. As they neared, they merged into a single glowing orb and halted about a foot from her face. Sam looked at the orb- she wasn’t pleased or proud that her incantation had worked, but she felt a certain satisfaction.
“Will you be in potions, then? It starts in a couple of minutes,” Artie asked her anxiously. Lessons? What on earth did lessons matter anymore?
“Take notes for me,” she asked him, sighing somewhat regretfully, but not in anyway about what she planned to do.
“Okay,” Artie told her, and they walked as far as the stairs together before separating. The orb led Sam out of the school and followed a track in the grass where enough feet had trampled it into mud. A strange smell was wafting from behind one of the larger buttresses supporting the school, and Sam could hear voices laughing there. As she walked around the buttress, she saw Bellatrix and a couple of other Slytherin seventh-years smoking what appeared to be black cigarettes with silver pentacles all over them. The laughter stopped the moment they saw Sam.
“How’d you get out?” Bellatrix asked swiftly.
“Crawley’s dead,” Sam said tonelessly, ignoring her. “And it’s your fault.” Bellatrix carefully stubbed out the black cigarette and tucked it behind her ear.
“Yeah? What are you going to do about it, Sleazy?” Bella sneered, prodding Sam in the chest. Sam shrugged one shoulder, then raised her wand with a distinct lack of emotion. Before Bella could even draw her own wand, Sam uttered the incantation she’d had running through her head.
“Crucio.” Bellatrix screamed and writhed. She fell to the grassy ground and clawed her fingers into the earth. She bit her tongue and blood trickled out of her mouth. She arched her back this way and that. She stared wildly into the sky. She scrunched her eyes up so tightly that the lids could barely be seen. She begged Sam to stop. And she begged, and she begged.
Sam waited until Bella was hoarse with screaming and then lifted the curse. Bella lay sobbing on the ground. Her friends swore and when Sam looked at her, they called her a psycho and ran off hurriedly. Sam didn’t care who they told. She picked up the black cigarette that had fallen from behind Bella’s ear and stared at it. No, she doubted Bella’s friends would tell anyone of importance. She’d never seen these cigarettes before, and didn’t know what they were, but she doubted they were legal.
Her assumptions were confirmed when McGonagall, Sumner, Flitwick and Sprout came dashing around the buttresses. Sam dropped the cigarette and hid.
“What on earth is going on here?” McGonagall shrieked, pale faced and fuming. “Miss Black, please explain yourself!” But Bella was still too sore from the curse and just lay there sobbing. Sumner spotted the cigarette and picked it up with a knowing ‘ah’. She showed it to McGonagall, who gasped with horror.
“Bellatrix? Is this Moon Mud?” McGonagall demanded. Bellatrix looked up at the black cigarette in McGonagall’s hand with the sort of look that suggested she had no idea how McGonagall had come to be holding it. She nodded dumbly. “You know the school’s policy on this, Miss Black,” McGonagall said gravely. “This is an immediate expulsion. Go and get your belongings. By lunchtime, you’ll be on the Hogwarts Express home.” Bellatrix still looked so dazed and shaken from what Sam had done to her that Sam had a hard time not laughing at her.
She waited for the teachers and Bellatrix to leave, and then calmly made her way to her next lesson, having already missed potions. She was feeling better already.

Serves Bella right!

Can't wait to find out what happens next.

Edit: I just updated Kin for Kin if you want to take a look.