Tears of a Basilisk

Journal entry the fifth


That was invigorating. My scrounging in the Forest was more successful than I thought it would be, and after knocking back a couple pain potions I think that I can make tonight a double-header entry. Not like I can get any sleep anyway. Well, time to give this another shot, on to my fourth year at Hogwarts, which is when things really started getting interesting.


Let us begin with the ill-fated Quidditch Cup. I hated that I had to go along with the Weasley Clan to keep up appearances, but it was a necessary evil. Couldn't tip my hand that early in the game, after all. Had to play nice with the traitors, although I do appreciate the twins. Gred and Forge actually made me laugh a few times. I'll leave them something nice, and call off the debt for the store. I was fairly bored with the game, the only reason I got into Quidditch was the opportunity to fly, after all. Things got interesting when the Death Eaters showed up, however. For me it was the good type of interesting. Finally I got to see, with my own eyes, the “evil” wizards supposedly responsible for all the woes in my life. Seriously, the pointed hoods went out with the plague, have none of these wizards even the slightest ounce of fashion sense? It was all I could do to keep from laughing in their faces. And the masks? Please, if so many grown wizards find the masks frightening then they apparently have never been to a decent Halloween bash. Or to a bad one for that matter. The Morsmordre spell intrigued me, because I had encountered the original version of that spell before, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Why do I bother, no one will get the reference. Wizards don't get into pop culture as a rule. For the literal-minded reader, no, not in a far away galaxy, but a long time ago stands.


Skipping past those otherwise tedious events, let us resume with the introduction of 'Mad-Eye Moody' as our newest DADA teacher. I knew once more that the man wasn't the real Moody, partially from the reek of Polyjuice and partially from the fact that I recognized the smell as the person who cast the Morsmordre spell at the tournament. The thought never crossed my mind to call him out and reveal his fraud, though. Who am I to reveal someone's schemes, after all. His deception paled to mine, so I decided to watch him like a hawk does a mouse. He did play the role to the hilt, up to and past the Goblet fiasco. Before you wonder, no, I did not enter my name in the contest, faux-Moody did. I didn't really want to play that game, but not for the reasons I presented. With my knowledge, gifts, and powers, which since I'm feeling indulgent I'll reveal some of them in this entry, I could have squashed the other competitors like bugs. I was tempted to throw the contest, just to save myself the time and effort, but then I was once again betrayed. This time Dumbles actually managed to hurt me.


Still playing the abandonment/neglect angle to punish me, he stepped the game up to a new level when he dared lay a finger on my first true friend. Hedwig was an innocent, and didn't deserve to be hit with the Killing Curse while resting in the Owlery. I knew it was Dumbles, his magical signature was all over her body. I had protected her with many wards and charms, but nothing that could block a spell of that power. He advanced the game to a new level, and I was going to be thrice-damned if I wasn't going to exceed him. Now, I know you're thinking, Hedwig isn't dead, she's been by my side the whole way. I wonder what your reaction will be when I tell you, poor reader, that my faithful white shadow, from fourth year on, was actually Sylvain transfigured to owl form. He felt my pain, and offered to take her place, no strings attached. In other words, there was a deadly, ancient basilisk flying around the school with free reign, who had no real geas to behave himself. All the people who pissed me off were unwittingly at his mercy.


With this catalyst, I threw myself into the challenges, figuring to reveal only enough of my full power to make Dumbles reconsider taking such a direct approach with me ever again. I can only imagine what was running through his head when he saw Hedwig apparently unharmed. Hm, with his age he probably wet himself anyway. It amused me that these students, my 'competitors', seemed to have no idea as to the scope of the event that they were caught up in. More lay at stake than school pride, in past tournaments many people have died, been irreparably harmed, or have just disappeared without a trace. The Tri-Wizard is not a game, it is a way to weed out the strongest warrior. I suppose Dumbles was hoping that one of these other students would prove to be a strong champion to take my place, then he could try to dispose of me. Laughable. Fools will remain fools, despite age.


I did my best to tune out the annoying worry of Hermione and pure jealous hatred of Ronnie-kins, which helped me immeasurably. I knew the challenges would not be easy, but I remained confident that I could find the answer and succeed with little difficulty. I could hardly restrain my joy when I learned about the dragon challenge. Let me provide you with some background, I'll throw out this tidbit of information.

My reason for joy extends all the way back to my first life, which was the founding of my bloodline as we know it. My grandfather was a High Druid who happened to be half-Dark Elven. He liked kink, so one Solstice abroad he hooked up with my grandmother, a full blood Maenad. Result: my mother, who took after the Maenad side more than the human/elven. So, my kinky mother decides to experiment a bit and snags my father, who was the full-blood head of the Naga-im line of basilisks. I'm not sure I want to know the details, but the end result was yours truly in his first incarnation, which explains the Speaking and magic-sensing, at least. Speaking, especially, is only a blood gift, and can't be passed along any way but biological. Now, the Naga-im are the basilisk equivalent of the royal bloodline, and would occasionally mate out-of-species for diplomatic reasons, or out of sheer lust. The dragon that was assigned to me, as a result, was my distant cousin. So is Sylvain, if I want to get technical. Dragons that carry Naga-im blood retain the ability to Speak, so before the match I snuck up to him and worked out a deal: He chases me around, give the crowd a thrill, and takes a dive before either of us gets hurt. He was eager to agree once I broke the border-restraining spell that was placed on him to keep him from escaping. So, we played silly buggers for a while and then followed the plan. A bit anticlimactic, I suppose.


Well, enough about this for now, I couldn't do justice to this highly eventful year with one entry, and I don't feel like starting another one currently. Enough purging of the soul, I need to force my body to rest before I put the masks back up. I think, for fun, I'll mess with Sevvie's mind a bit. We should be making Dreamless Sleep in potions tomorrow, er, later today I mean, and if this one text is correct I can make something that will blow his mind, as well as start the ball rolling. The game is afoot.

I remember that class. It would be hard to forget, since I see the eventual end results occasionally. The class seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, most of the dunderheads didn't even come close to successfully making Dreamless Sleep. Doing the usual rounds of taking House points, and of course keeping a close eye on Longbottom to make sure that I can neutralize whatever explodes in his cauldron, I ignored Harry as usual, sure that no matter what the end result would be dismal at best. I should have noticed something was different when, even after pairing him with Draco, he didn't do his usual whining. When it was time to hand the potions in, I noticed that Draco and Harry's potion looked off. Not so different as to be a failure, but not what Dreamless Sleep should look like. I called them both to stay behind. I'm sure that Draco thought that the failure was due to Harry's known incompetence with potions. I started to drill them for every step they took, when Harry got a strange, chilling grin on his face. For a moment, I'm fairly sure I saw the real Harry Potter, or at least what was left. I, a known Death Eater, someone who has seen many terrible things in his life, felt a twinge of fear when I saw what lay beneath the masks. He smirked in a very familiar way, tossed an old manuscript and what looked like freshly-taken notes on my desk, and walked out without saying a word. I dismissed Draco and decided to examine what he had left.


What I found, well, surprised me at the very least. It seems that, somewhere, Harry had found a potion to counter and heal long-term Cruciatus damage, which was thought irreparable. Not only had he found it, but expertly translated it from the original ancient Greek version and brewed one successful dose in class with most of the same ingredients of Dreamless Sleep. When I picked up the documents, a note slipped out, addressed to myself. He gave me everything I needed to claim the potion innovation as my own, and asked me to do so, with the requirement that I use the potion to cure the Longbottoms. If I wasn't interested, he'd find out somehow and give the materials to someone else. The intellectual challenge proved too tempting, and I played along with him, claiming the potion after familiarizing myself with the texts and brewing a second dose identical to Harry's. Now the Longbottoms are walking around as if they never left. I suppose it was his way of giving Neville a chance at the life he was denied. I will always wonder as to his true motive, for even the information he leaves behind raises more questions than answers.


I detest doing this, but I think I'll have to pay Madam Pince a visit to research further. Wizards with that lineage can't be very common, and if I get an idea as to what other talents he was hiding maybe I can satisfy this annoying itch as to his past identity. Then maybe I can move on to the other dilemmas that his narrative raises. At this rate, I'll be old and gray before I fully understand.