A girl’s best friend.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

The sun had hidden behind the horizon and it was almost time for dinner.

Albus picked up the diary again. It was the most curious thing. He could feel the dark magic wafting from the cursed object. For all intents and purposes, it was still a horcrux. But there was no soul inside it.

The magic preserving the diary was still active. The thing was as indestructible as it was said to be, but no matter how much he looked, Voldemort’s soul had been ripped away.

Freed or destroyed?

He’d quietly examined the three girls. None of them had any hint of Voldemort’s soul hidden inside them. Not like Harry.

That didn’t mean there were no changes to them. He’d have to keep an eye on Ginevra. Whatever happened to Voldemort’s soul left a mark. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the Weasley girl was also a parselmouth at this point.

Luna and Taylor were another matter entirely.

He didn’t think they were lying. The story was too chaotic and unpredictable to be a fabrication, but he didn’t believe they had told the whole truth either.

Albus had, at some point, thought about peering inside young Luna’s head, but whatever protected Taylor had decided Luna was off-limits too. He still remembered the sense of danger, like a mountain looking down on him and waiting until he stepped out of line so the mountain had a reason to squash him like a bug.

Still, there was much he needed to ponder.

Albus was forced to conclude that, somehow, young Taylor had managed to destroy a piece of Voldemort’s soul without ever destroying the artifact that housed and protected it.

Was it a fluke?

Could it be replicated?

A sigh escaped him. Albus hadn’t even started to consider what implications Aragog’s death would have in the coming months. The acromantulas were not friendly neighbours.

He was getting too old for this war.

It just wasn’t fair.

Rita paced inside the room at the Three Broomsticks Inn. The scoop of the century was happening just over yonder, but Rita didn’t have the guts to investigate.

It had been the most terrifying moment of her life, feeling how that… thing, that… monster had utter and complete control over her. Knowing how amused the thing felt, prodding at her mind and chasing her through her full-blown panic escape.

That had cost Rita the front-page news she deserved. Without all the details, her editor refused to publish the story.

And what a story it was.

A half-giant taken to Azkaban for unleashing a monster in the school. Harry Potter a victim of dark magic, with no one knowing if the Boy-Who-Lived was even alive. Lucius Malfoy with a recommendation from the Board of Governors to remove Dumbledore from his position as Headmaster.

And Rita had missed her chance.

Now, there was another scoop: A student had been taken by the Heir, and two other first years staged a daring rescue, braving the Chamber of Secrets, thwarting the Heir’s plan and saving the kidnapped girl.

It was the stuff of legends that every wizard and witch would paid to read.

Was it a coincidence that the girl involved was the same one from the letters she stole? Rita didn’t believe in coincidences.

Should she pay another visit to the mother? Would the girl have sent any juicy secrets in her letters?

Or perhaps, she should write about that fake, Gilderoy Lockhart?

The girl had been certain in her letters the man was a fake, and a little bird had told her that Lockhart had fled the castle the same night a student was kidnapped. Rita had long suspected the many acts of bravery in his book were a sham a best, stolen credit at worst.

Mira was going insane.

That was the only explanation at this point. Or maybe she was hallucinating.

Ever since noticing that Taylor and Luna kept a freaking acromantula as a pet, Mira had decided to pay more attention to them. Hattie didn’t seem interested, and even got angry when Mira tried to talk with her about her dormmates. So Mira kept this to herself and now she was going mad.

Mad because there was no way that pixies behaved like that. She’d started to see the blue menaces not long ago. Always hidden in rafters and out of the way corners and hard to see places, carrying things to throw at students that decided they were better than others. There was even a freaking doxy working with the pixies.

Those things didn’t work together.

Her father’s book about dark creatures didn’t have much to say about them aside that they were mischief makers and often considered pests, but Mira was certain that was not normal pixie (or doxy) behaviour.

And if that wasn’t enough, Taylor now had a new pet. One she tried to keep hidden from others.

It was a small, vibrant green serpent. The thing was badly hurt and didn’t seem to be recovering anytime soon.

Only, Mira was certain it was a basilisk. How could that be? Those were wizard killers. The only saving grace was that the tiny basilisk was blind. Had that crazy duo gone to the trouble of breeding one? The entry in her dad’s book even listed the method of its creation.

A chicken egg hatched beneath a toad.

Mira was certain it was illegal to breed them. Should she tell someone about it? Better yet, should she get a roost as a pet?

Publishing that story had been a boon to his magazine. Xeno had his suspicion of who the anonymous correspondent was, but the matter wasn’t that important to him. What was important was his magazine’s new popularity, the new subscriptions and the influx of Galleons into his account.

He even had a new story lined up. A exclusive interview with a student who found the Chamber of Secrets and defeated the Horror. No one needed know his source was his lovely Moonshine.

Xeno didn’t do it for the money. If he did, he would have never kept The Quibbler running this long. Some months he didn’t even turn a profit. But the influx of Galleons would help finance his old project. One he’d been putting off for far too long.

Would his little Moonshine want to travel with him to Sweden to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack?

It had been a disappointment that the reports of Crumple-Horned Snorkack near Hogwarts were a bust. It wasn’t all lost time. He managed to get a picture of a Quintaped, which served well to the story he published at the time.

But there was something that had been troubling Xeno for the past days.

He’d received Annette’s letter and as asked, didn’t open it. Two days later, Taylor’s mother sent another correspondence and as requested, he sent the unopened letter back. Xeno knew people thought him strange, but he didn’t think he was stupid.

Neither he nor Luna had missed the conversation between mother and daughter. Nor the fact that Annette was forgetting things she shouldn’t. And now this letter? It smelled of another conspiracy. But he also felt like neither mother nor daughter trusted him for some reason, even with Annette sending him the sealed letter.

What a conundrum it was.

Maybe he should invite them to hunt the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in Sweden as well?

Azkaban was a dreadful place. One which Rubeus hoped he’d never return to. Thankfully, his stay wasn’t long. A couple of weeks.

His giant ancestry helped him resist the Dementors effect, but knowing he was that close to all the monsters and madmen of the wizard world made his stomach clench. At least Rubeus didn’t share a cell with Sirius Black.

He didn’t know if he would have managed to control himself if he ever met that traitor he had once called a friend.

His release letter, when it arrived, came through the eagle owl young Taylor had named Nap. Such a delightful owl she was.

Rubeus petted the bird, then scoured his pockets for treats. Together with his release notice was another letter, one written in Taylor’s familiar handwriting.

Hello Hagrid. I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to talk with me (or Luna), but we really need to talk.

It’s about Aragog.

-Taylor.

A boulder dropped into his stomach. How did she know about Aragog? Had something happened to him? Had the Ministry finally learned about the acromantulas and hunted them down?

Rubeus hurried his steps. He’d need to return to the castle as soon as possible and check up on his friend, and maybe talk with Taylor again.

Dobby scrubbed the floor with blistered hands and pained knees. The many pains and troubles of being a house elf were things he was accustomed to. What Dobby regretted was not saving Harry Potter and his friends.

Oh, it could have been worse. He could have been dead and not just petrified, but Dobby had failed.

Quintuple failed.

Dobby had failed to keep Harry away by stealing his letters. And by dropping the cake on the muggle. And by closing the platform passage. And by using his Bludger to slightly injure Harry Potter.

His last and most disgraceful failure came through a parchment note, delivered by bugs.

I know about the Diary. I’ll be waiting for you at the castle.

Dobby hadn’t had the courage to return yet, and had had to punish himself several times for letting someone else know about the diary.

He scrubbed the floor harder.

Dobby didn’t want much. He wanted a Galleon a month. No, that was too much. Maybe a few Sickles a month. He wanted to be allowed to buy and wear any clothing he wanted. Maybe he also wanted a family (to do paid work for) that would treat him like a decent house elf.

Annette hadn’t expected to return to Hogwarts so soon. She had expected even less to be called because Taylor had gotten injured and was involved in some kidnapping attempt.

If Annette hadn’t been the owner and boss of her own business, she probably would have to give a lot of explanations about disappearing like this. Her co-workers were already looking at her strangely. Miria had even asked if Annette had found a paramour.

Annette wanted to scoff.

She was just too busy caring for her Little Owl to worry about that.

Still, receiving a visit from the small professor, Flitwick, didn’t improve Annette’s mood any. This time, at least she had enough warning and explanations that she didn’t need to rush to the castle wearing unmatching shoes.

She would have never considered that suggesting to Taylor that she could explore and have adventures would lead to this: A full possession plot, a petrifying horror and a daring rescue.

That had been hard enough to accept, but not the hardest.

“Grandma,” Arabelle said, crawling all over Annette.

Annette sighed.

She’d need to have the talk (a different sort of talk) with the girls sooner rather than later. Taylor and Luna weren’t even twelve yet and they were already adopting talking, man-eating spiders.

“Aren’t you precious,” Annette said, trailing her finger over the spider’s back like Taylor had shown her.

Arabelle clicked and pranced.

She was cute, at least.

Severus awoke with the worst migraine he had ever felt. Not even resisting the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus Curse compared. He tried to pry his eyes open, but the blinding light sent him moaning in pain, and caused a flurry of activities around him.

Soon after someone was forcing a potion down his throat. By the taste and consistency, it was a diluted Draught of Living Death.

When he next woke up, Severus didn’t try to open his eyes. It was clear he had been hurt, somehow. The noises around, the septic smell, and the rushed conversations all indicated he was at St. Mungo’s.

No matter how much he tried to think about it, Severus couldn’t recall what had happened. The last thing he remembered was arguing with Dumbledore about the explosion in his lab.

After that, there was nothing.

But whoever had attacked him fortunately didn’t finish the job. And now, Severus had yet another enemy to hunt down. Which he would do as soon as he was back at Hogwarts. Once he had found whoever had attacked him, they would wish they had finished him off when they had the chance.