Tears of a Basilisk

Journal entry the fourth

I thought that I'd lose interest in maintaining this journal, what with the chaos of my current circumstances, but I'm still taking the time to maintain it. I guess it appeals to my twisted sense of humour. Let the poor reader envision me cackling right now, picturing their faces as they flip each page. I like to imagine shaking hands and nervous sweat. I can't even imagine what the reaction will be when they view my pensieve, if they are brave enough to venture into its murky depths. Hm. Oh, what a wicked idea. I think I'll send the journals and notes by time-delay post, while leaving my pensieve right here in the chamber, where they will most likely start investigating. Extreme trauma first, background information second. Ha.


Well, enough fantasizing. Time to delve into my third illustrious year at Hogwarts. Let's start with the first time I met Sirius, shall we? The first time that I encountered my dear godfather, he was very fuzzy. When I saw the Grim-like dog for the first time, I knew right away that it wasn't a real dog. First, the smell was off, there was a whiff of big dog but also human reek. Second, most dogs don't have magical fields around them. I did tell you that I greatly changed in my second year, after all. My sense of smell is far superiour to most, hell I could probably out-sniff our resident werewolf. I could always see magical fields and auras, however. Got me into a lot of trouble, but I learned to keep my mouth shut about that. I didn't know who the dog was until I learned about Sirius Black and his supposed role in the downfall of the Potters. It wasn't hard to figure out that puzzle once the right piece was handed to me. Why else would a large, magical dog follow me around just to sit and guard me. I knew that Sirius was innocent right from the start, mostly because if he really wanted to hurt or kill me it's a hell of a lot easier to do it in the body of a huge dog. I wouldn't have believed it anyway, dog or no dog, and not because the thought of having a family makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Only good whiskey can do that, thank you very much. No, I would have known the story to be false because of the people who told it to me.

I digress once more, I must clarify something before I continue. I mentioned earlier about the staff not really caring about the students. Yes, their actions were at the time negligent. It wasn't their fault. Most of the staff of Hogwarts are perfectly innocent of neglect, but at the time they were being controlled by good ole Dumbles. He was more than a little peeved that I survived the Chamber, so he tweaked the charms and enchantments he had already woven into the teachers. When I first arrived, they were supposed to treat me like the Golden Boy-Who-Lived, no matter what. Dumbles realized this tactic wouldn't work when I spun my tale about 'Fawkes' coming to save us. Since he knew that Fawkes had nothing to do with it, he realized that I had stumbled upon at least some level of his deception. So, since I wasn't going to be his puppet, he made everyone pretty much turn away from me. He figured that if I was abandoned so dramatically, then I would run back to him to make things better. I don't think he ever really knew how bad things were at the Durstley's. Abandonment as a punishment is laughable to one such as I.


I do feel for the Professors, at least a bit. The guilt that will crush them, some more than others, once they are freed of control, might be more than some can bear. If I were a gambling creature, I would bet that the ones hardest hit by the guilt and betrayal of their former leader would be Poppy, Hagrid, Severus, and Minerva. Each had some form of significant contact with me, and they are all passionate beings. Well, that narrowed the field for the future recipient of my journals. I'll watch those four closer.


Back to my third year. Ah, the train ride to Hogwarts. Picturesque scenery, fresh air, chocolate frogs, and of course the snoozing werewolf. Like with Sirius, I knew he was a werewolf, but that fact didn't bother me in the least. That would be hypocritical of me, carrying magical creature heritage myself. Since I had disposed with the previous DADA teachers, and Care of Magical Creatures was being handled by Hagrid, I figured that he was most likely our new professor. Of course I played dumb for Ron and Hermione, didn't want the coot's snitches to catch on that I was more than they thought. Keep friends close, enemies closer, after all. Then things started to get interesting with the Dementors. I knew what they were, once more, being the closet insomniac that I am, and what they did to humans. I think the hardest part was faking being scared for my life, since I had to use memories of my first few clients to work up that type of fear. I know that the retreat of the Dementors was credited to Lupin, but I played a role myself. Whatever else they are, Dementors are not stupid when it comes to self-preservation. They knew that I was the one that everyone on the train should fear, and that if I was so inclined I could have wiped them out, even as young as I was, with just one of my blood gifts. Convenient that Lupin was there to receive the credit.


Really, the Patronus spell as a repellent against Dementors? A spell that is based on happy feelings to fight a creature that loves to devour happy feelings? I guess unbiased, accurate information is a rare commodity in this age. Why not throw meat at a starving lion trying to bash it unconscious? Same effect. From the one Dementor I've talked with (they speak in a mostly forgotten cant, which came with the memories, gifts, etc.), the only reason they let people believe that the Patronus works is to keep the public from finding out what will really hurt them. Before you say, “There's no way he could have talked with a Dementor!”, they do fear me after all. I sought one out to learn more about it, and it traded me this information, among other things, for survival. What did I have to lose, after all, all my precious happy memories? Hah. They'd rather starve than try to feed off me.

For the sake of trying to limit my rambling, I'll skip past Sirius's antics, as well as Trelawney's classes. I would be amazed that Albus could brainwash even a crackpot seer, but this is Trelawney we're talking about. I think enough shiny objects could do the trick. In addition, I really have no interest in commenting on the other members of the 'Golden Trio'. In the scope of things, they just don't matter. It does amaze me that the Weasleys had a rat in their possession that didn't age, and no one thought that this was just a bit off. Rats aren't known to have long lifespans. I knew Scabbers was an animagi the same way I figured out Sirius. I never liked Scabbers very much, in either rat or human form, but on some level I respect his self-preservation instinct. It will likely bite him in the tail very soon.

Regarding my classmates, I must tell you that I felt, and still feel, neutral towards most of them. Draco is one of the few exceptions to this rule. Even though he endangered that gorgeous, noble hippogriff with his childish antics, I could see past that. There is a being of interest buried in Draco, and it would come out more with every year. Unlike the masses, he had and still has potential to be....well, interesting.


Humans get so tedious sometimes, with their angst over whom likes whom, etc. Young ones seem especially prone to this condition. I forgive many of these youthful follies, with the condition that the children learn from them and grow as individuals. Not unreasonable, I think. Sylvain can't understand how indulgent I am with my classmates, taking their abuse. I've given up explaining, because I know that he'll respect my wishes even if he can't understand them. My caring for their well-being does not mean that I care for them as people, and indeed the ones surrounding me have stabbed me in the back so many times I could easily compete with Caesar in that aspect. Et tu, Ronald?


Soon the chips will fall where they may, and I hope the follies of youth quickly turn into valuable life experience for that merry band of traitors, for their health. I know I'm being awfully vague with what my current and final project is, and I don't think I'll reveal it quite yet. Since I won't include any details in my pensieve, all that you, the wary reader, know about my swan song are the effects, not what I actually did. Hell, no one has probably realized the long-term effects yet, so it will be a happy little surprise for everyone when I get around to it. Heh, you all will be in for a shock when my last surprise manifests. I know it hasn't yet. Well, off to the Forest. Toodles.


I need more Firewhiskey. The empty bottle sits on my mantle, mocking me. Every time I think that I've reached the limit of my shock factor, the threshold is pushed. After picturing him having long, intimate chats with a basilisk, I suppose the image of Harry chatting up a Dementor is not as shocking as it should. The only thing I am certain of anymore is that nothing is impossible when dealing with Harry. Harry, such a common name for an uncommon man. Who was he really?! Merlin, it's driving me up the bloody wall, with each clue he drops I feel that I should know the answer, but it's just out of reach. Layers upon layers, and still nowhere near the crux of the matter. The ultimate Slytherin indeed, for all we know he could very well BE Slytherin himself. Wait. No. It couldn't be. That would be... no. No. I'll read further, it's just a hypothesis after all, one I intend to disprove once I compose myself. Yes, I'm sure it's just the sleepless nights that gave me that preposterous idea. A good night's sleep, and I can see the matter through fresh eyes. One night's sleep, that's all I need.

-S.S.