Chapter 82: Back to the Grind, AgainSummary:Exactly what it says on the tin.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextShe arrived in the Headmistress' office, which appeared empty. Not wanting to face anyone yet she sat down in one of the chairs, staring off into space while her mind went a hundred miles an hour. Should she stay or should she go? If she stayed there would be trouble, but if she went it would be double.
"So c'mon and let me know, should I stay or should I go~?" She rolled her eyes as the lyrics finished themselves.
A new argument popped into her head then, one that honestly could go either way. Sure, her core was unsealed and she was Mistress of Death, with phenomenal cosmic powers or whatever. But as the fight against Voldemort had proven, the breadth of her knowledge and skill didn't match the depth of the others who had participated.
So did she fuck off and make do with what she had already learned, relying on her ability to brute force her way through situations her training didn't account for? Or did she stick around to finish her education and have at least a baseline of competency for the future ahead of her?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening; she looked up and saw McGonagall entering from another door. "Hello, Headmistress."
"Good afternoon, Miss Potter. I am pleased to see you are well, in the physical sense."
Afternoon? She looked out the window, and sure enough, pale winter sunlight could be seen. "Don't mind me, I'll be moving along in a minute."
"No rush, no rush." Apparently content that Hazel was capable of making up her own damn mind, McGonagall sat behind her desk and pulled some paperwork forward, leaving her to stew in her own silence.
"Ma'am, do you know what happened at the Ministry?"
"I do indeed. I took pains to separately interview your fellows as they returned, and ensured they received attention from Madam Pomfrey." McGonagall wasn't looking up from her work as she spoke. "None of them blame you for Mr Weasley's or Mr Longbottom's deaths, if that is what concerned you."
"Well, I wish someone would."
"Very well. Fifty points from Slytherin and detention with Filch next Saturday for causing the deaths of two other students. Does that suffice?"
The deadpan way she said it, combined with how she still didn't look up, made Hazel laugh. "That'll do for now, I guess."
"Self-flagellation aside, Miss Potter, we are taking their deaths as seriously as they deserve. Parents and siblings have been notified, they are grieving their loss, a memorial has been arranged. Not one of them blames you for their deaths." She finally looked up, and Hazel flinched at the sympathy in her eyes. "Ronald made his choice, and judging by the final expression on his face, he had no regrets. And Neville died avenging his parents. Regrets are for the living."
"Ugh, I hate it when you're right."
"I suppose that explains why you're always so sour-faced when I'm around, hm?"
Jesus, she was in a savage mood today. Hazel laughed reluctantly again. This was what she needed, this kind of tough love. Not that walking-on-eggshells bullshit the men had going on. "Thanks, Headmistress. I feel a little better now."
McGonagall gave her a small smile. "Very good. Do you feel ready to leave, or shall I call for tea?"
"No, I think I can handle it. Thank you again." Hazel stood and bowed, the Headmistress nodded in reply, and she turned to leave.
Halfway down the stairs she pulled the Cloak out and put it on. She didn't know if anyone would be waiting for her downstairs, and didn't want to risk it. Never mind that if anyone was there they'd know if someone was coming by the stairs moving and the gargoyle leaping aside.
There was no one there. Thank God. Hazel left the Cloak on as she made her way downstairs, floor by floor until she reached the kitchen. She was starving, so she pulled the Cloak off and tickled the pear until she was allowed inside.
As usual, the house-elves made a big to-do about her arrival, with Moxy in the lead. "Miss Hazel Potter! Moxy has heard Miss Hazel was defeating the big bad Dark Lord?"
"Yeah, Moxy, I sure did."
Moxy beamed so hard her jaw creaked. "Thank you on behalf of all house-elves!"
Thank you. No one had actually said those words to her, had they? Thank you for killing Voldemort and destroying his ideology. "You're welcome, Moxy."
She sat down, and the elves brought food for her to eat and cold milk and warm peppermint whiskey. Suddenly realizing she was starving, she wasted no time tearing into it, and barely held onto her table manners. Christ, when had she eaten last? Right before the battle, when Molly was pushing food around like a dealer having a fire sale?
Some time later, when she couldn't eat another bite, she felt far more human than she had in days. Was that all it took? A little gratitude and a lot of food? It was probably just temporary. "May as well enjoy it while it lasts."
"What was that, Miss Hazel?"
"Nothing, Moxy. Thank you for the food." She patted Moxy on the head, then stood to leave. It was time to face her peers.
The door swung open without her having to give the password, which was concerning, but she'd take it. She walked inside, and for the first time thought how small the common room felt. Hadn't the ceilings been higher, last time she was in here?
The common room was mostly empty, since most students were still in class, so Hazel curled up by the fire and dozed off.
She woke up later, to the sound of the door opening and Slytherins trooping into their common room. She didn't care to be stared at, so she kept her head down and stayed curled up, until a quiet gasp told her people had noticed. She looked up to see her friends gathered round. Draco and Pansy met her gaze evenly; they'd been there, they'd seen what she had done. The others, Daphne and Tracey and Blaise and Theo and all them, were more uncertain.
Hazel yawned, sat up and gestured for Daphne to join her. Daphne did so, but carefully, settling on her knee and leaning close. "What happened at the Ministry, Hazel?"
"What-" Hazel cocked an eyebrow at Draco and Pansy. "You guys didn't tell them what happened?"
Pansy scoffed, and Draco shrugged. "It wasn't our story to tell."
"Bullshit, you were there." They shrugged again, and Hazel rolled her eyes. "Fine, you lazy bastards. But I'm only doing this once."
She nudged Daphne off, stood on a sturdy table and whistled sharply; everyone stared at her again, at the scars and the missing hair and the wands and the gun. "Listen up, losers! I'm gonna tell what happened at the Ministry and I'm only telling it once!"
So she started the tale, from when they took the Floo to Grimmauld Place, skipping the waiting and moving to when they apparated to the Ministry. Everyone was there: the students, the new professors, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Madam Bones and her Aurors. Even Hagrid, Krum and the Durmstrang militia, though she hadn't known that until later in the battle. She told them about sneaking up on and then bribing Rakepick, she told them about having to wait beneath the Cloak for her moment, told them about freeing and capturing Fudge.
Draco cocked an eyebrow. "So that's where you were when the fighting broke out."
"Right, I had to hide for most of the battle so that I could ambush Riddle and get him to try to kill me with the Elder Wand."
That started a round of gasps and muttering. Hazel let them gasp and mutter. It was a little shocking, after all, that she had willingly let herself be struck with the Killing Curse.
"H-How did you survive?"
"Easy, Daph. I'm the Mistress of Death. Grindelwald helped me bind the Deathly Hallows to myself at Crouch Manor over the winter hols. The Elder Wand would never have opposed me."
Draco was skeptical. "Let me get this straight. You're the Heir of Slytherin, the Heir of at least four different noble houses and lineages, and the Mistress of Death?"
"When you put it that way I sound like the hero of a bad comic book. But yes, I suppose I am. Anyway, stop interrupting me!"
She kept going, describing the moment she realized Voldemort had "won" the duel with Dumbledore, her panicking attempts to dive in the way, her last ditch effort to redirect the Wand through brute force, her brief shock that it worked.
For a moment she debated telling them about her trip to Limbo, then decided against it. Her meeting with her parents, with Death, was a private thing. "So then I got back up, but we still had to subdue the bastard so we all ganged up on him, Draco took his father down, Riddle blasted everyone away from him and then collapsed for some reason, I made a little speech, blasted his brains out, Bellatrix Lestrange got Neville and tried to kill me and I tried to shoot her, Ron jumped in the way, I shot Bellatrix and passed out for three days."
Some fourthie raised her hand. "What do you mean, you blasted his brains out?"
"Just what I said." Hazel drew her revolver and held it up. "You all should recognize this if you've taken Muggle Studies this year."
The room was silent as they stared at the gun. The fourthie frowned. "Uh… what is it?"
"It's a gun. All of you cover your ears, like you're about to unpot a Mandrake." Everyone covered their ears; Hazel flicked a finger to cast a quick Muffling Charm on her own ears, then took aim at a statue across the room, on a plinth. Breathe in, breathe out, squeeze-
The gun jerked in her grasp, the bullet shot forward with a crack, the statue shattered, the hollow-point bullet flattened against the wall. Everyone jumped. Hazel just grinned. "Now imagine that statue was Voldemort's head, and you'll start to understand what happened."
The door flew open, and an irate Professor Sinistra was standing there. "What in Merlin's name was that noise?"
"Sorry, Professor, I was explaining what happened at the Ministry last weekend." Hazel waggled the revolver for emphasis.
Sinistra stared at the weapon, then pinched her nose. "Ten points from Slytherin for causing a scene, Potter. Put your Muggle toys away, would you kindly? And repair that statue, too."
"Yes ma'am. Reparo!" She pointed at the statue, no wand in hand, and the object repaired itself in a swirl of magic. "Good enough?"
"Good enough." She swept out without another word, and Hazel figured show-and-tell was over, so she sat back down.
Blaise laughed. "You're a terrible storyteller."
"Yeah, well, bite me."
"I'll leave that to the girls, thanks."
Daphne seemed both repulsed and fascinated. "Why a gun, Hazel? Isn't that a little barbaric? We're witches, not Muggles."
"True, but he didn't deserve a dignified death. Also, think about it." Hazel sat up straight. "He spent his whole life in fear of death, right? He was willing to mutilate his soul repeatedly just to achieve immortality. And this whole cult he built up, of pureblood suckers and assholes?"
Most of her audience flinched, but she didn't care. "Admit it, they were suckers and assholes. They let a halfblood boss them around, they debased themselves for his amusement, and somehow they think that made them special? Made them elite? No, it made them fools. And now I've proven it to the whole world by stripping his immortality and destroying him with a Muggle weapon."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "I think it was more impressive when you took a Killing Curse to the forehead and got right back up. How'd you pull that off, anyway?"
"The Curse didn't kill me, it killed the shards of his soul I'd been absorbing since I was a year old."
Daphne put a paper in Hazel's lap, the Daily Prophet from a few days ago. The image was blurred out, but a quick Claritas brought it into focus: Voldemort's dead body, blood and brains scattered out behind him. "Whatever message you wanted to send, darling, consider it received. Loud and clear."
If everything was in the paper, why were they bugging her about it before? She didn't let it keep her from feeling smug as she read the article, another breathless piece of sensationalism by Rita Skeeter. There was breathless speculation as to why Hazel Potter had chosen a lowly Muggle weapon to end Voldemort's reign, and yes, they were using his name now because the fear was gone. Dumbledore was even noted as going on record about Voldemort's Horcruxes, how he and Hazel had destroyed them prior to the battle at the Ministry.
The latter half of the article was devoted to Hazel surviving the Killing Curse, and Rita took pains to highlight that it was the second time she had done so. Again she had gone to Dumbledore for answers, and he had explained that Hazel had herself been a Horcrux, that she had been absorbing bits of soul for years, and that Killing Curse had annihilated them and left her whole once more.
"You've got your answer right there." Hazel tossed the paper back. "They're not afraid of him anymore. He built himself up as this immortal warlord, and with the pull of a trigger I tore him down in less than a second, turned him into a smear on the Ministry floors. Well, Dumbledore and I did, we had to destroy his Horcruxes first, but still."
Blaise nodded slowly. "You didn't just destroy You-Kn- Vold-demort, you destroyed his myth, his legend." No one remarked on his stutter. "No one will want to follow a wizard who got shot."
"Exactly! It's perfect, and I won't hear a word otherwise."
No one had a word otherwise to add, so Hazel cuddled up to Daphne and dozed off again, hoping the nightmares would leave her alone now that she had someone warm and soft to drool over. Later they woke her up and said she had to go to dinner, and she wasn't hungry since she'd had a late lunch, but she agreed to go upstairs anyway.
Predictably, the rest of the school went silent when she walked in, and she felt that fragile bitterness clawing at her again. She scowled and looked down, avoiding their stares, hoping just to make it to the Slytherin table and pick at her food until it was time to retreat again.
They probably all read that paper, saw that image. They probably all knew what she did.
She missed it when Luna nudged Dennis Creevey and whispered in his ear. But she noticed when Dennis stood up and got in her way, trembling with nerves as she glared down at him. "Um, th-thank you for saving us, H-Hazel."
"You're welcome, twerp." Her glare softened into a slight smirk as he kept standing there.
"Um, okay! That's all I wanted to say!" He ducked his head and retreated back to his safe spot next to Luna, who waved and smiled when she noticed Hazel looking her way.
Feeling somewhat better, Hazel waved back and proceeded to her seat, where she ignored her usual stuff and picked out a salad instead. She noticed the others staring and glowered. "Fuck off, I had a late lunch in the kitchens."
No one said anything, and Hazel hoped she'd get to poke at her salad in peace.
Said hope was dashed when Daphne giggled and moved aside, leaving room for Hermione to flounce down in her place. "Hazel! I'm so glad you're back, how are you feeling?"
"Uh." She looked up at Hermione, who was staring back at her with nothing but earnest concern. "I'm… feeling better than I was? Never mind me, how are you feeling?"
"Later. Now look, I've been collecting your assignments for classes, and since it's only been a few days there aren't that many, so you should be able to catch up-"
"Hermione. Take a damn breath, will you? How are you feeling about R-"
Hermione slammed a fist on the table, making everyone jump. "I'm not talking about him right now."
Hazel blinked, caught off guard. And for the first time she noticed how fragile Hermione actually looked, the redness in her eyes and the trembling in her hands. "Alright, fine, Jesus. No talking about R- about him yet."
"Thank you." She dug a stack of parchments out of her bag, thrust them at Hazel, and flounced off.
"Why do I feel like the bad guy in that interaction?" Hazel put the parchments away and went back to her salad.
Pansy checked her nails with that smug air she was so fond of exhibiting. "Because you were the bad guy, Potter. She clearly didn't want to talk about Weasley or Longbottom, yet you tried to make her talk about them. Twice."
"Well forgive me for being concerned about my friends, Parkinson."
"You're forgiven~"
Then again, she wasn't exactly processing her feelings from the loss very well either, was she? Granted, she had drifted apart from Ron this year, but hadn't there been distance growing between Ron and Hermione too? Or had she only been seeing what she wanted to see? And what about Luna, she had grown close to Neville. Fuck's sake.
Romantic distance and friendship distance aren't the same. A sobering thought, yet true.
Thankfully no one else approached her, though there was still a lot of staring, and she finished half her salad in peace. The rest of the salad she surreptitiously slid across to Milicent, who quaffed it down without fuss.
Then, when the others were getting up to head back down, she followed Hermione, and as expected, she was heading in the direction of the library. That made sense; she felt comfortable around books, so she'd go there to grieve.
Hazel wasn't sure what she would say, or even if she could say anything. Her and Ron hadn't been close, after all. But maybe, just maybe, being there would be enough.
Notes:I think this chapter was a hair longer than normal.
Chapter 83: Seeing GhostsSummary:Hazel does the impossible, then does some introspection.
Chapter TextHazel walked in, found old Pince shooing other students out for the night, and surreptitiously adjusted her prefect badge to be more prominent. "Madam Pince, is Hermione here?"
The old woman narrowed her eyes, but jerked her chin toward the back. "Arithmancy section. Don't stay too late, either of you."
"Yes ma'am." She swept by and moved on, deeper into the library. And there she was. Hermione, hunched over a dusty old book, scribbling on parchment. Her normally precise handwriting was loopy and aimless tonight. "Hermione?"
Hermione startled slightly. "H-Hazel?"
"Hey, relax, it's alright." She sat down next to her, put a hand on her back. "I wanted to apologize for earlier."
Hermione heaved a shaky sigh and wiped her face. "Don't. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Tell that to my conscience."
"Didn't know you had one."
She was deflecting, and they both knew it. Maybe they were both deflecting. Hazel shook her head. "You wanna talk about it now?"
"About R-Ron and Neville, you mean?" Hermione sniffled and wiped her face again. "What's there to say? We were both there, we both saw it."
"Yeah, and we both heard about that mad dream of Ron's." Hazel was gently rubbing her back, and Hermione leaned into her touch. "I didn't think he meant me."
"Me neither. Ugh, we should've stopped him…"
"If we had, you'd be mourning me instead."
Hermione giggled wetly, then seemed shocked at herself. "I shouldn't laugh, that's not funny."
"No, it's not. But it's true." Hazel closed her eyes, remembering that fatal moment. Bellatrix breaking free of her bonds, snatching her wand, cursing Neville and turning it on Hazel. And Hazel, a second too slow, trying to bring her gun up in time…
Ron, leaping from the crowd to take the curse in her place, buying her the seconds she needed to gun Bella down…
"Hey, Hermione. If you want, I can use the Stone to bring one of them back."
Hermione drew back, stunned. "W-What?"
"You know, like I did with your grandmother? Just long enough to say goodbye."
Hermione was silent for a few moments. "I'd love to see Ron again. But… but we should get the others, too. Ginny and Fred and George, you know."
Hazel shrugged. "It's not like I can only summon him once, you know."
"Right, but…" Hermione dithered, then gave in. "Fine, if you really want to."
"Right then." She got the Stone out, turned it thrice in her hand, and Ron's shade appeared. "Welcome back, Ron. We brought you here so we could say goodbye."
"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea." He turned to Hermione and smiled. "Hey. I'm sorry things never worked out between us."
"I know you are, Ronald." Hermione blinked back tears and stepped forward to hug her friend. "You're not mad at us, are you?"
"Huh? What for? Not trying to stop me?" Ron scoffed and hugged her too, as tightly as his ghostly form could. "If I hadn't gone, Hazel would have died. I saw it in my dream, remember? And right before it happened, I saw clearly what was meant to be. So don't feel bad."
Hazel hadn't thought about it like that, and tried not to feel too guilty. If it weren't for her, he'd still be alive. If she'd been faster to bring her gun around, or even her wand…
Ron seemed to sense her turmoil, because he glanced around at her too. "Hazel, knock it off. I knew exactly what I was doing, I made my choice. That's how I want to be remembered, okay? I went into that battle with my shoes on and my eyes open."
"Right." Hazel tried to smile, but it felt brittle. "I might call you up again later, if Ginny and the others want to speak to you too."
"That's fine, it'd be nice to see them too." He let go of Hermione and stood back. "You'll be okay, right Hermione?"
"Yes, I'll be fine." Hermione smiled a tearful smile. "I've got all my friends with me, after all."
"Yeah! And trust me, you'll be joining the rest of us before you know it." He winked at both of them, pleased with his own wit.
Hazel tried not to cringe too hard. "Sure, Ronald. Thanks for saving my life."
"You're welcome. Don't waste it, okay?" He hugged Hermione one more time, then stepped back, and Hazel released him back to wherever.
Before either of them could say another word, Madam Pince swooped down upon them. "I gave each of you explicit instructions not to stay late! The library is closed to all, prefects and war heroes alike!"
Hermione bit back a yelp and leapt to her bag, cramming her books and papers into it at top speed. Hazel, who hadn't unpacked, checked her things before standing and stretching, feigning a leisurely pace just to get under Pince's skin. But she hurried to keep up with Hermione, and they both winced as the library doors slammed shut and locked behind them.
"Miserable old cunt."
"Hazel! Mind your language, she's not that bad."
"No, Hermione, she is that bad. Just because she lets you stay late doesn't mean she isn't a hag to the rest of us."
The two of them argued clear to the staircase about exactly how bad Madam Pince was, and by the time they got there, neither were quite sure who had won. But the bickering had gotten Hazel worked up, and her emotions, still not quite under control, were pointing in one direction.
But she could tell Hermione wasn't in the mood. Tired, grieving, stressed out. Not in a good space for having fun. "Well, good night, Hazel."
"Good night, Hermione." They hugged, and kissed each other on the cheek, and parted ways, Hermione heading upstairs and Hazel going down. Maybe one of the girls down there would be up for a quick shag?
Ugh. Why did her lack of self-control have to be someone else's problem? She should just sort herself out and ignore the voice in her head claiming that was boring and unsatisfying. Fortunately the common room was empty as she walked in, so she did her evening routine and went to bed, where she sorted herself out without issue.
Once she was finished, she cleaned herself up and stretched out under the sheets. Out of habit she checked on the connection between herself and Voldemort, and of course she found nothing. But the nature of that nothingness gave her pause, because it wasn't trulyempty; it wasn't a full blank. It was… it was more like a Riddle-shaped void, echoing very faintly with the ghosts of his memories, of their encounters.
It was strange to think that she'd never have to worry about that connection being used against her again, never have to worry about Voldemort or scheme against him. It was a relief too, of course, but the relief was tinged with other emotions. Emotions she couldn't identify at first.
Or maybe she didn't want to identify them.
That thought made her mad. Was she chickening out? Fuck that, she was tired of being emotionally stunted. Time to examine herself!
She spent more time poking at the Riddle-shaped void where Voldemort used to be, absorbing the echoes of his presence, clumsily sorting through the emotional wreckage left behind. Relief was the biggest one, obviously, but she was also… sad. Mourning. Why would she be sad and in mourning?
Because her life as she knew it was over, she realized. She'd spent so long in Survival Mode that she didn't know any other way to exist. She was grieving for herself, the version of herself for whom life was exceedingly simple: wake up, eat, train, fuck, eat some more, sleep. On some level she had resisted planning for her future, because she hadn't really been certain she'd even survive.
She heaved a deep sigh and flopped onto her other side. How fucked up was that?
Fucked up or not, it was true. She legitimately had no plan for her own future. No career in mind, no job prospects lined up, nothing.
Not like that was a problem, she could just be a silent investor for the rest of her life and live like a princess off the passive income. But that sounded boring, didn't it?
And she knew, deep down, that sooner or later she'd find herself yearning for another war, for life to be simple again, for an enemy to measure herself against. She really was tempted to drop out after her OWLs, apply for emancipation, claim her inheritances and fuck off to some war-torn corner of the globe to sell her wand and her skills as a warlock or battlemage for hire. Somewhere that didn't take Secrecy too seriously, preferably.
Didn't they offer career counseling here at Hogwarts in the run-up to OWLs? She giggled as she imagined the look on Sinistra's face when she told her what she wanted to do for a living. Or maybe Snape would reclaim his old position? No, probably not while he was still awaiting trial. How did probation work for professors, anyway? Was probation even the right word?
She wondered if he was as messed up as she was. She wondered if he was afraid to fall asleep, afraid he would see the people he killed, the people he couldn't save.
When she did finally fall asleep, she wasn't even aware of it. Her subconscious desperately clung to Occlumency to ward off the worst of the terrors, and it mostly worked. She dreamed of old wounds, of Quirrell's death literally at her hands, rather than anything fresh or recent.
In the morning she awoke to the satisfaction of not having screamed herself awake, and put herself through her usual routine as a reward. Today was the day she figured out if she could handle another four and a half months of school, or if the tedium and domesticity drove her into hexing someone just to get expelled.
She walked into breakfast, and everyone glanced at her, but thankfully no one acted up. The Hufflepuffs were nervous as she passed them, and she paused to look at Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting in a bubble of solitude that stood out among the normally friendly Puffs; neither of them would look her in the eye. She thought she knew why they were acting all meek and sullen; their fathers had been killed over the weekend, killed and exposed as branded Death Eaters, in the same battle that Voldemort had been killed in.
And while it wasn't good for anyone to be petty, Hazel had never been the better person, had she? "Heard from your fathers lately, boys?"
The temperature dropped a few degrees, and Crabbe threw her a glare, but neither of them said anything. "Oh, that's right, you won't hear from them for a while, will you? A long while~"
Goyle's fork snapped in his grasp. "Fuck off, Potter."
She leaned down and got in his face. "Make me, you pathetic thug. Go on, try it. I've got nothing left to lose."
Crabbe and Goyle shot to their feet, and that was when Ernie and Hannah intervened. "Oi! You two sit down before we start docking points!"
"But she-!"
"Never mind her. Sit. Down." Hannah glared until they sat again, then she turned a stern eye on Hazel. "And you.Don't go starting fights at breakfast."
"Sure, sure." Hazel threw one last smirk at the two creeps, then turned and kept going to her own table. She knew she'd pay for it later, but for now it felt good to lash out. Besides, it was only Crabbe and Goyle. She'd seen their fathers get ripped to bits not even a week ago!
Chapter 84: CalypsoSummary:Hazel makes a new friend.
Chapter TextCare of Magical Creatures was very interesting that day. Charlie and Barnaby were there, along with Hagrid, Dumbledore, and an eccentric old man with one eye and a plethora of enchanted wooden limbs. The old man seemed annoyingly cheerful as the students filed down, looking from face to face with a tremble in his limbs that could have been either old age or sheer excitement.
Hermione seemed surprised, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think I know who that is. It must be Sylvanus Kettleburn, the previous Creatures teacher!"
Hazel wondered what he was doing here. Dumbledore's presence made her think there was a lesson on some exceedingly dangerous creature today.
Charlie took roll, then the old man stepped forward, puffing up his chest proudly. "Students! As some of you may have guessed, I am Professor Emeritus Sylvanus Kettleburn! And today, I am here to assist in a lesson on chimaeras!"
Everyone, even Hazel, was caught off guard. Now she understood why Dumbledore was here, when he had so many other things he should be doing.
"That's right! The British Ministry says they're untameable, but I say balderdash! The Greeks know how to tame them, and I learned from the best in 1987, when I went down and picked up mine!"
A tame chimaera? Hazel wondered if that was true. They were a XXXXX creature according to the Ministry. Then again, it was only the British Ministry who said that. Greece obviously had different ways of seeing things.
The students obediently followed the professors and staff into the Forbidden Forest. Predictably, Hermione was whinging under her breath. "Chimaeras? Seriously? I don't care what sort of nonsense Professor Kettleburn learned in Greece, those things are-"
"-dangerous, man-eating, three-headed creatures?" Hazel smirked and hugged her. "Ron and Neville would have loved this, so put up with it for them, yeah?"
"Yeah, I guess so." Hermione put a brave face on, so Hazel let her go and watched where she was stepping.
Tame chimaera turned out to be entirely spot on, as they found out when they reached a makeshift pen in the Forest. The creature's name was Calypso, and she was huge! Seven feet at the shoulders, with the head and forelegs of a lion, a goat's head protruding from its back like an afterthought, the hindquarters of said goat, and a snake for a tail. All three heads were clearly intelligent.
Kettleburn talked at her in Greek, and she regarded the students with all six eyes; the snake head stared especially at Hazel for a long, tense moment. Hazel cocked an eyebrow in response, wondering if the beast was about to strike.
Kettleburn was saying something else, but his voice was a distant buzz; the rest of the class was unimportant; all that mattered was Calypso. In a daze, Hazel stepped forward, heedless of the hands trying to stop her. The snake head hovered over to greet her in Parseltongue. "Is your name Calypso as well?"
The snake head nodded. "We share a name and a body, but our minds are our own."
"Fascinating! How old are you?"
The snake turned away to confer with the other two heads, and Hazel became aware of the utter silence that had fallen on the rest of the class. Everyone was staring at her with expressions of shock or envy, except Kettleburn who looked utterly delighted, and Dumbledore who was impassive as ever.
The snake turned back to her. "Sylvanus brought us here when we were still an egg, so we are seven years old."
So cool. "Will your other heads mind if the others come closer?"
"Not at all! We are tame, after all."
Hazel nodded and turned to the others. "Come on up! They're docile, you can come closer."
Hermione squared her shoulders and marched up to the chimaera, and the lion head bent down to regard her closely. Kettleburn's smile was frozen on his face; Hagrid and Barnaby couldn't decide where to look; Dumbledore had his wand in hand. Tentatively, Hermione reached up and ran her fingers through the lion's mane; she closed her eyes in obvious approval, and a curious rumbling emerged from her chest that Hazel realized a moment later was the sound of her purring.
The others relaxed after that, and the class went on as normal. Charlie lectured on chimaera feeding habits, how each head had its own preferences; the lion head usually preferred live prey, while the goat head could graze anywhere and the snake head liked to toy with her prey. The others came up and studied Calypso up close, gradually realizing that yes, she really was tame.
Tame, but still a creature who demanded respect, as Seamus found out when he got too handsy with the snake. She reared back and hissed in his face, and he stumbled back with a yelp. Kettleburn hurried forward, but there was no harm done. "You have to respect her, Finnigan, just as you'd respect any lady!"
Hazel rolled her eyes, and turned to Calypso. "Are you alright?"
The snake flicked her tongue. "I don't appreciate being touched there, that's all. You'd do the same if he touched you there!"
"I'm sure I would." The girls in the crowd were giving Seamus the cold shoulder, and after a bit of blustering to save face he slipped away to the rear of the crowd.
Toward the end of the period, Hagrid disappeared into the Forest, and shortly returned, dragging a loaded travois behind him. "Ever'one clear off, s' feedin' time!" Calypso perked up at the sight; there was a whole dead cow on the travois, along with massive bales of hay and a huge cage full of live rats.
Everyone, even Hazel, got out of the way. The lion head began chomping on the cow, the goat head began munching on the hay, and the snake head smashed the cage, letting the rats run free. Hermione made a distressed noise, no doubt imagining the ecological havoc all those rodents could inflict on the Forbidden Forest, but Kettleburn just laughed. "Never fear, Miss Granger! Those are all male rats, and there's a barrier to keep them from escaping. But they're all thoroughly castrated just to be certain!"
Now the boys were the ones making distressed noises, but Hermione was mollified.
The bell rang, signalling the end of class. The other students packed up and began trooping back to the castle, while Hagrid, Kettleburn and Barnaby drooled over Calypso. Charlie beckoned Hazel over to him, though, and Dumbledore stood by him. Hazel packed her things and approached. "Sirs?"
Charlie looked concerned. "How ya holding up, Potter?"
Hazel sighed. "I'm tired of everyone asking how I'm holding up. Ask Dumbledore, he got a face full of how I'm holding up a couple days ago."
The old man chuckled. "Not quite how I would phrase it, I believe."
Charlie cocked an eyebrow. "Then how would ya phrase it, Professor?"
Dumbledore hesitated. "Hm. Let us say that whatever passed between Miss Potter and myself was thoroughlywarranted, Professor Weasley, and leave it at that."
Charlie looked confused, but shrugged it off after a moment and waved Hazel off. Hazel bowed to them both and went on back to the castle. That had certainly been an interesting lesson, she thought. Chimaeras were fascinating, and she hoped to see Calypso again before Kettleburn had to go back to the Hebrides or Cape Wrath or wherever.
Sadly, not every class was willing or even able to push dangerous shit just to satisfy her adrenaline addiction, though she found a certain peace in the tedium of Arithmancy. There was no room for trauma in a head full of numbers, after all.
Lunch was interesting. Zacharias Smith had Crabbe and Goyle by the ears and dragged them over to make them apologize again for the scene that morning. "Apologize to Hazel, both of you, or you're off the team!"
They were incredulous, but eventually they stammered out an apology each. Hazel nodded in reply, not wanting to drag this out. Whatever the hell this even was. "Accepted. What's this about, Smith?"
"Quidditch, of course! Remember? You promised you'd coach us, like you did the Gryffs two years ago?"
That did sound like something she might have said, once upon a time. "We won't have time, you know, the match is next week."
"Yeah, well, maybe afterwards?"
"Maybe." She glanced at the two creeps, who were standing there looking awkward without anything to break or anyone to threaten. "What about those two? Are they still worth a damn?"
Smith glanced at them too. "If they aren't, I'll fly the reserve Beaters. We've been trying to show a little sympathy, you know, but…" He trailed off, then shrugged. "Whatever. See you on the pitch next week."
"Sure, see ya." Hazel went back to her own meal, wondering what the rest of the day had in store.
Thankfully, nothing. She got to practice on a bike more in Muggle Studies, and Herbology was filthy as usual.
She ran into Luna that evening after dinner, and pulled her aside. "Luna? Are you alright?"
"Hazel! Of course I'm alright~" Luna hugged her and kissed her, just like she always did. "Are you alright?"
"Not really." She found herself clinging to Luna as if shewas the one who needed reassurance.
"It's okay to relax and stop being Hazel for a while, you know."
"That's not- Luna, I'm talking about you! How are you handling Neville's death?"
Nothing changed in Luna's eyes at the reminder. "Hazel, you know death is just another stop in the circle of life, right? Neville isn't gone for good, he's just waiting for us on the other side. We'll see him again when we die, too."
It was such a surreal, Luna thing to say, that Hazel wasn't sure how to respond. Luna hummed softly and nuzzled in close again. "You should mourn them however you see fit, Hazel, and I'll mourn however I see fit."
The words were falling from her mouth before she could stop them: "You should paint his and Ron's portraits."
Luna gasped at the suggestion. "Hazel, that's a wonderful idea! I'll get started right away, thank you!" Another tight hug and an exuberant kiss, and Luna was skipping away, singing off-key. Hazel stood there, gobsmacked for a few moments, lips tingling from that parting kiss. Then she shook her head and went on downstairs.
In the common room that night, Hazel tried to put a dent in her assignments. She remembered the last time she had organized her priorities, how she had put the "weapon" at the top of the list. And that "weapon" turned out to be a damn underwhelming Prophecy instead!
Her other priorities: homework, driving and riding, training, Grindelwald: felt distant and pointless now. What good did homework do? She knew all this shit! She could already drive a car or ride a bike, she'd been one of the fastest learners in Burbage's class. Training with The Study Group felt pointless now too, especially since Snape had taken over Defense upon his return to the castle. As for Grindelwald, she wasn't sure. The man had likely achieved what he wanted to achieve, and the Ministry would doubtless protest his presence in England once they were capable of doing so.
Then again, who would dare try and tell Gellert Grindelwald what to do? Certainly not Cornelius Fudge, that was for certain, or whoever eventually took his place.
She remembered something else, something Snape had said: Umbridge was still being held in the castle. She doubted that one would ever face justice, she was too well-connected and had too much dirt on too many people for even the most well-meaning reformist to fully purge her web of influence. It would be better for everyone if she died, would it not? Her reputation was in tatters; she had been caught red-handed using Crucio on a student, on the Girl Who Lived no less, the same Girl Who Lived who had struck down Voldemort.
It was safe to kill her. And the sooner the better. She could do it tomorrow night, she was patrolling in the lower levels of the castle then. Creep down there, summon Regina, make sure the Umbitch disappeared on schedule.
Chapter 85: Ding Dong, the Witch is DeadSummary:Hazel does a thing.
Chapter TextWith something illegal to look forward to, Hazel was able to tolerate the next day. And she learned that having a purpose did wonders for one's focus; instead of dwelling on the dead, on her mental turmoil, she was able to bury it all beneath anticipation for the look on Umbridge's face when she realized her games were at an end.
Then she realized that, discredited she might be, Umbridge's death would still bring attention. As much as she might wish to be there, to witness it first-hand and make sure, it would be best if she was far away. She would have to relay orders to Regina ahead of time, then make sure she was seen the rest of the day doing harmless things like flirting with Ginny or Luna, perhaps even spending the night in another girl's bed.
Then she wondered if she could do what Voldemort did, and project herself into Regina's head as a witness; that way she could have her cake and eat it too! She wished she would have thought of these things before, so she could test them out, but it was too late now. The thought of delaying Umbridge's removal never crossed her mind; it had to happen, and it had to happen tonight.
While walking from one class to another, she ducked into the third-floor bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. Then she focused on her Parselmouth abilities before whispering with Legilimency: "Regina? Regina, can you hear me?"
For a long moment, nothing happened, and she was afraid she might have to head down into the bowels of the castle. But, faintly, she heard a reply. "I hear and obey, Mistress."
"Good. Tonight you shall feast on flesh, Regina. There is a foul pink creature being held in the castle's holding cells, where I brought you out to threaten a wizard last year."
"I know the creature, Mistress, she is foul indeed. Are you asking me to consume her?"
"Yes, Regina! Make sure it is very late, and ensure she is alone and that no one will hear. Make it fast, so that she has no time to scream, and leave no trace of her presence or yours."
"I hear and obey, Mistress."
"Also, will it be possible for me to project myself into your mind using Legilimency? I'd like to witness her demise, but I can't afford to be seen in the area. Otherwise I would do it myself."
"This is very possible, Mistress. Salazar Slytherin did so quite often, as did my previous Master. Though he attempted to manipulate and control me."
"I vow on my dagger that I shall never attempt to force my will upon yours, Regina. I value your loyalty too strongly."
"Thank you, Mistress. I shall lurk in the pipes near the cells and await your presence tonight. You may attempt to reach out now, if you wish."
Not a bad idea. Hazel closed her eyes and sank deeper into Legilimency, into her connection with Regina, and her awareness flowed smoothly downward. She opened her eyes, and was staring out across the Chamber of Secrets through the yellow, lethal gaze of her basilisk. There was no strain to this connection; she could maintain it for hours if she chose, so long as her body was in a safe and secure location.
Which, currently, it was not. "Thank you very much, Regina. I'll reach out again tonight." She withdrew from Regina's mind, returned to her own body, and got up to wash her hands and leave the loo. Thankfully there was no Moaning Myrtle or Peeves to give her any grief.
She was even able to pay attention in Ancient Runes, during which they studied the types of runes Healers might apply when working on permanent healing effects for their patients. Hazel was especially interested in this, as she wanted to understand what was happening when she went to Healer Gideon to have her eyes permanently fixed.
After dinner, Hazel made up some excuse to get out of patrolling the dungeons. "Guys, I need to get out of the dungeons for one night, would any of you want to switch?"
Hannah gave her a concerned look. "What's wrong, Hazel?"
"It, um… reminds me of the Atrium, and…"
"Oh, say no more, I'll switch with you!" Hannah smiled. "My patrols are up by Gryffindor Tower, it's nice and airy up there."
"Oh, perfect, thanks!" She hugged Hannah with genuine gratitude. "It should just be for tonight, I swear. I dunno what my problem is? I just…"
"Hazel, I said say no more!" Hannah laughed. "It's fine, really."
Patrolling upstairs was eventful. The underclassmen hadn't expected her to be up here tonight, and she caught several younger Gryffindors and Ravenclaws breaking curfew with the aid of the Map and Cloak. She took immense pleasure in deducting points from them, always working within the letter of the rules; prefects couldn't take more than ten points at a time, but she got around that by deducting ten points per student, per infraction. Five students out? Fifty points lost. If they talked back or were pests about it, five points each per incident. Luckily her reputation as a prefect was well-established by now, and none of the little blighters did more than grumble and slouch back to their common rooms once she nabbed them red-handed.
Near the end of her patrol, she encountered Padma, who grinned at her. "Potter."
"Patil." She looked around, then leaned in. "Eventful night?"
"Oh yes, there's always a pest or two up here. Not like your lot, I'm sure you've got them whipped into shape~"
"Oh, you'd be surprised." She stepped closer and reached for Padma's arm. "It's almost time to call it in, you wanna join me for a bath first?"
That earned her a flattered giggle, and Padma leaned into her touch. "A bath sounds amazing after the day I've had…"
The bath was very enjoyable for both of them, and Padma fell asleep next to her on a huge fluffy towel afterwards, stretched out along the marble floor. Hazel smiled and held her close, then redirected her focus elsewhere, looking for Regina through their Legilimency connection.
"I am here, Mistress, in place and waiting." Hazel followed the voice in her mind, and sure enough, the big murder noodle was far below Hogwarts, lurking beneath the holding cells. She slipped into Regina's senses and rode along as she slithered ahead.
"Make sure there are no witnesses, Regina."
"Yes, Mistress. I have been waiting patiently, there is no one within range of the pink thing. There is one other prisoner, but she is at the far end of the cells."
"Good. Proceed."
Silently the basilisk nosed a vent open and entered the cell block, and rose up before Umbridge's cell. Hazel saw the pink hag tossing and turning on her bunk, probably plotting her futile return.
Hazel experienced a sudden surge of doubt as she realized the cell was warded and sealed, and that Regina probably had no means of forcing the door open. Even if she did, the alarms would trip, and she would be captured before she could consume the body and flee back into the drains.
"Mistress? May I strike?"
"...No, Regina. I'm sorry, but it's not safe. The magic of the cell blocks-"
"Can you not sense it, Mistress? The wards are down on this cell alone, the lock is weak. Someone knew we would be here tonight, and prepared the path for us."
Hazel was gobsmacked. Someone knew? But who-
Grindelwald. It had to be him, Seer that he was. Hazel decided not to waste any more time. "Never mind then. Proceed."
It was over quickly. Regina butted her nose against the bars, making a noise just loud enough to startle Umbridge into looking up. Looking up into Regina's fatal yellow gaze. She didn't even have time to scream; she probably didn't even realize what killed her.
"Quickly, Regina."
"Yes, Mistress." Regina used her tongue to pull the door open, then squeezed herself into the cell to bite down on Umbridge's body and drag it away. There was no wand, no personal effects; just Umbridge. Regina moved her outside the cell, then closed the door once more and resumed dragging the body back to the vent, and then to the Chamber of Secrets where she would feast.
"Well done, Regina. Enjoy your meal."
"Thank you, Mistress. I will."
Hazel withdrew into her own mind, and enjoyed the presence of Padma pressed against her a few moments longer. Then she poked her in the side. "Padma. Padma, get up."
"Nrrh." Padma just clung tighter, and Hazel laughed.
"Come on, dork, rise and fucking shine. Even prefects get in trouble if we're caught out too late."
"Ugh, fine…"
They stood up, rinsed off under a quick shower and stood over the magic vent to dry out instantly. The magic of the bathroom had cleaned their clothing while they had bathed, so there was no need to pull gross clothes back on.
Once they were ready, Hazel pulled her tight and swirled the Cloak over their shoulders. "I'll sneak you up to your common room before heading back to mine."
Padma giggled. "For a prefect you're good at breaking the rules, you know that?"
"Hey, you can't break them if you don't know them. And I prefer to call it bending the rules."
It was slow going with the Cloak, but it turned out not to be needed, as they reached the Ravenclaw entrance without incident. The eagle knocker blinked as Padma slipped from beneath the Cloak and approached. "Out late, young eagle, aren't we?"
Padma sighed and fingered her prefect badge. "Patrols ran late, that's all."
"Very well. Answer me this: What can be broken merely by speaking?"
"Hm… silence?"
"Correct." The door swung open, and Padma blew Hazel a kiss before slipping inside. When the door closed behind her, Hazel turned and began making her way downstairs, able to move much faster under the Cloak now that she was alone.
She was passing by Grindelwald's quarters when the door creaked open. "Going somewhere, Miss Potter?"
Hazel froze, wand halfway out. "J-Just back to my dorm, sir."
A slow chuckle echoed. "Come in and explain why you were out so late."
Steeling her nerves, Hazel went inside and removed the Cloak.
Grindelwald's personal quarters were spartan, with a roaring fire at one end and all windows open to the February chill. He was, as usual, impeccably dressed in Victorian men's pajamas, and she wondered if he was ever less than perfectly presented. "I think you know why I was out late, sir."
His mismatched eyes glittered in the light of the fire. "Do I?"
"Yes sir. You put a great deal of effort into making everyone believe you know everything, after all."
"Perhaps. Why do you suppose I am already aware of your activities?"
Hazel opened her mouth to answer defiantly, then paused. If he already knew, she would merely confirm it, but if he didn't know, if it hadn't been he who left the way open for Regina, then she would be admitting to first-degree, premeditated murder. And she knew she wouldn't be able to hide behind a wartime excuse.
Grindelwald noticed her hesitation, and chuckled again. "Relax, Miss Potter. You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are."
"Or maybe you're the only one who can see through me."
"Also a possibility! However, consider that Umbridge may have been left in Hogwarts on purpose, rather than transferred elsewhere, away from war-hardened students and faculty who wished her ill."
"Huh. So what you're really saying is, I was the only one with the nerve to actually do anything?"
"The nerve and the pet snake, yes." The old man was incredibly smug.
"Who else was plotting to off her, then?"
He held up his fingers and began counting off. "Ismelda was going to simply walk in and stab her if no one else did by Easter. A few of your proteges from your student militia had vague plans. Our illustrious Headmistress, I believe, intended to allow her to starve."
Hazel flinched at the words student militia, but didn't interrupt.
"And of course, our dear Severus was going to be a disgusting martyr and take the damage to his soul by next week."
"Does killing really damage the soul, sir?"
"Indeed it does, but genuine remorse can restore it, as you well know."
"I'm not sure I regret the deaths I've caused."
The old man shrugged. "That is between you and whatever deity you seek solace in, Miss Potter. I am but a lowly Seer."
That made her roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, sir. The bitch is dead. Can I go back to bed now?"
"Of course. Fifty points to Slytherin on your way out."
"Thank you sir." She bowed and retreated from the room, and was about to close the door when-
"Potter?"
Startled again, Hazel whipped her wand out and spun about, but it was only Snape. "Dammit Professor, don't sneak up on me like that!"
Grindelwald's laughter echoed through the slightly ajar door, and Snape cocked an eyebrow until she shivered and put her wand away. "Dare I ask what you were doing with Gellert so late in the evening?"
Grindelwald appeared in the doorway, still chuckling. "Be at ease, Severus. I heard her coming back from her patrols upstairs, and simply called her in to inquire why she was so late. Good evening to you both."
Snape nodded, and the old warlord shut the door with a quiet click.
Chapter 86: The Most Interesting FriendsSummary:Hazel has the most interesting friends, according to Regina.
Chapter Text"I shall escort you to the common room, Miss Potter." Hazel shrugged, and trailed along behind the professor as he stalked ahead, cloak billowing slightly behind him.
"You are very dramatic, sir. The way your cloak always flaps about behind you and all."
"One must always project an image, Potter, as you well know. Now, why did your patrols take so long? And why were you upstairs at all? You were scheduled to be downstairs tonight."
"Um." She hesitated again, wondering how much to reveal. He'd know if she was lying, but the truth could get her in trouble. "I… I really can't say, sir."
"I see." His pace did not slow down, nor did he seem troubled. "Then practice whatever excuse you no doubt have in mind."
That was easy enough. "I had to get away from the dungeons for one night because I was afraid it might trigger an episode, sir, and Hannah Abbott was willing to swap places with me. And I was late coming down because I… bumped into Padma Patil."
"Quite believable, and full of witnesses willing to corroborate an alibi."
"Yes sir."
They didn't say a word until they reached the secret dungeon door. "Potter, I am going to check on the prisoners before I turn in. Will I have any reason to find anything amiss?"
She did her best to project innocence. "Why do you ask, sir? I was upstairs all night, I'd have no way of knowing~"
Snape just sneered. "There's your lying face again."
That earned him a glower. "Sir, I seriously was upstairs all evening. Ask the twerps I docked points from, ask Padma, ask Professor Grindelwald."
"That is not what I asked, Potter."
"Ugh! Fine, let me come with you. We'll both see if there's anything amiss down there."
Snape shrugged, and turned about with a sweep of his cloak. Hazel rolled her eyes and fell back into step behind him. Was he incapable of not being dramatic?
They arrived at the holding cells. Rakepick was in the first cell, and she stirred as they entered. "Come to gloat?"
That sneer was back on Snape's face. "Hardly, Patricia. Have you heard anything from Madam Umbridge?"
Rakepick shrugged. "No, which is strange. Usually she starts ranting the moment someone comes in."
Snape swept by to check the rest of the cells, and Hazel lingered. "I'm sorry, Madam Rakepick. I promised you I'd keep you out of jail."
Rakepick shrugged again. "No, you promised me a pardon. I'm fine cooling my heels in here while Dumbledore cleans house at the Ministry. Besides, those galleons are keeping me nice and toasty."
Hazel giggled. "You got paid twice for the same job, didn't you?"
Snape returned to the first cell. "Umbridge is missing. Patricia, are you certain you didn't notice anything amiss? Anything at all!"
Rakepick rolled her eyes. "I told you, Severus, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Grindelwald and a house-elf came down hours ago to feed and water us, and to clean our chamberpots; she was still here then. And as you can plainly see, her cell is clear at the other end of the hallway, so I wouldn't have noticed anything from here anyway."
"Did she act out of character?"
"I shan't repeat myself. I. Saw. Nothing." She turned away from them and lay back down on her cot, done with the interrogation.
Snape fumed, but had nothing else to go on, so he swept away from the holding cells, leaving Hazel to scramble to keep up with him. "You will return to your dormitory immediately, Miss Potter. No more trysts or dalliances tonight."
"What's the big deal, Professor?"
"A prisoner in our care has disappeared, Potter! Never mind who it was, we had a duty and we failed in it!"
He was taking this seriously, she realized. Or putting up a show of it, she amended, recalling Grindelwald's words. She decided to come clean. "Don't get yourself into a lather, Professor. It was me."
He stopped dead in his tracks and whirled about to face her. "What was you, Miss Potter?"
His voice was at its silkiest and most dangerous, but she forced herself to stay cool. "Umbridge disappearing was me. I worked with Regina to kill her and drag her from her cell, using Legilimency to watch from the prefects bathroom while Padma Patil was dozing off next to me. But the wards around her cell had already been deactivated, or else the whole castle would have been alerted the moment she nosed the cell door open."
She paused for effect, and looked him right in the eye. "And who, sir, has the means to disable those wards?"
"Only myself, Minerva and Aurora. And…" He trailed off, then his expression grew stormy. "...and Grindelwald."
"Right, and he was down here earlier, with a house-elf. He told me there were multiple plots to get rid of her, sir. And yours was one of them."
He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. "I had hardly reached the level of plotting to assassinate that woman. Regardless, you should have acted with more foresight."
"Like you acted with foresight when you sold my parents out?" Her tone was sharper and more bitter than she had intended, and she had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. But it faded very quickly. "Sir, I-"
"No." He recovered quickly, but his glare wasn't as sharp as before. "You are, of course, correct. And you have every right to throw accusations at me, however it may be best if we did so behind closed doors, rather than in the middle of the halls."
The halls which were dead silent and empty. But she didn't correct him; he was right too. "Fair. All the same, I shouldn't have said that. I apologize."
"Accepted. Come."
Saturday morning, immediately after breakfast, McGonagall summoned Hazel to her office. She got down to business the moment Hazel stepped through the door. "Potter, I understand you were involved in the disappearance of Dolores Umbridge?"
Hazel thought about lying, but Snape and Grindelwald were there. So, clearly, McGonagall already knew. "Yes ma'am, I was."
McGonagall's expression did not change a whit. "Well, you certainly saved the rest of us a great deal of time and effort. Dare I ask where the body might be located?"
Hazel smirked. "In the Chamber of Secrets, once Regina has finished digesting. Though you might not find much except bones."
"We'll need a skull, at the very least. Gellert?"
The old warlord stood a bit straighter. "Aye, ma'am. Potter can escort me down there and mind the beast while I identify and collect her remains."
"You'll need a broom, Professor, unless you'd rather slide down a water pipe."
McGonagall waved it aside. "Spare us the details. We'll keep it under wraps until we have the remains, then inform Albus and Kingsley. They won't be too fussed about it either, and can handle the dissemination of her fate in subtle ways."
Snape stirred slightly. "I am no ophiologist, but I suspect the corpse may not be in any state to identify if we wait for Regina's natural digestive processes to complete. Potter is capable of communion with her, however."
Still a bit gobsmacked at how casually they were treating this, Hazel closed her eyes and reached out to Regina. "Regina? How far along on digesting that body are you?"
"I haven't even started, Mistress. Do you require proof of the kill, after all?"
"Yes, actually. Is it possible for you to preserve the skull?"
"If you come down within the next day, yes."
"Thanks, darling." She came back into herself and looked at the adults. "We'd better hurry, Regina says we should be there within the next day if we want proof."
"No time like the present." Gellert gestured ahead, and Hazel led the way.
At the bottom of the staircase, she paused. "Sir, why does it feel like no one cares?"
"Because no one does care, my dear. Surely you of all people must realize that Dolores made no friends during her time here."
"Yes, but Snape was worried the night it happened, about how it would seem to the world if one of our prisoners disappeared under our care."
The old man considered this for a moment. "A valid concern, normally. But these are not normal times, and Dolores was not a normal prisoner. It is also possible that Severus was overstating the issue to impress a point upon you."
"Sounds like something he'd do, overgrown bat that he is."
Grindelwald had to hide a laugh, and she basked in the smugness.
They detoured to collect a pair of brooms from Slytherin's practice stash, then went on up to Myrtle's bathroom, where the secret entrance was. Hazel hissed the password to the sink, and it opened like it always did, then she mounted her broom and floated down the drainpipe, Grindelwald doing the same in her wake.
At the bottom, they lit their wands and made their way through the tunnels. Hazel could tell Regina was ahead of them, in the Chamber, but they came across a freshly-shed skin that put the old man on edge for a hot second. "Relax, sir, it's only one of her skins."
"Fascinating." He got over the fright and approached. "Basilisk scales are quite valuable, you know, and not just for gold. Regina won't mind if I gather some materials while I'm down here?"
"Not at all. You might get lucky and she'll have a few loose fangs."
"Oh ho, now that would be a payday! Basilisk venom is fantastically rare, Miss Potter, and the fangs can retain potent venom for decades after being shed."
"You're a Seer, sir, what good is this stuff to you?"
"A Seer with very interesting friends~"
"Right." She rolled her eyes at that.
They were coming up on the entrance to the Chamber, and she paused. "Professor, I don't need to impress upon you the need to be very fucking careful up here, right?"
"Certainly not. Avoid eye contact with Regina at all costs, and don't even approach her without your say-so."
"Good. Let's go." She squared her shoulders and led the way inside. "Regina? Avert your gaze, please, I have a friend with me."
"You have the most interesting friends, Mistress." A great stirring and rustling was heard, and the huge shape slithered toward them from the direction of Slytherin's statue.