Harry Scamander and the King of the Animals

Chapter 13

The wand felt good in his hand. It was warm, nice, perfectly befitting him. He would curse them to oblivion, he had decided. Well, maybe not completely to oblivion, but just enough to lay his point across. He didn't want to pass off as the bad guy, the evil one, the monster…but sometimes, people just needed to be reminded of their own inferiority. He was, after all, the descendant of Salazar and Rowena, two founders of the school. He had never been meant for average. He had been meant for glory.

The Bloody Baron left his body a few seconds later, and Harry took a deep calming breath. That was what his possession induced state made him think about, and that was what he would avoid doing. Him at the top, the rest as flies to be squatted or brought into obeisance. He hated it. He hated having even the lingering belief of superiority against someone else, because it made him dirty, no better than the magical Nazis themselves. Yet he knew he was fundamentally different. He at the very least was trying not to be evil.

There was a dull resounding clack as the secret passage of the second floor's bathroom opened, revealing the assembled kidnappers talking loudly among themselves while pointing their wands like they were nothing more than sticks towards Neville. Didn't they know how dangerous those things were? Would they handle guns the same way, by sticking them around? They were but pieces of wood, and yet they were far more dangerous than any type of gun Harry could think of. He had to be quick about it.

"I tell you: we have him spill his guts on the Scamander, and then when we find out where the hell he goes in his free time we ambush him there." One of the boys, a Gryffindor, pointed out.

"That lacks subtlety," a Slytherin remarked with a sneer, "We should…"

"Oh please, keep on speaking." Harry remarked drily, "No really. Keep it up." The students, five in number, turned around as if they had been whipped. "You see, it's kind of…" Harry moved his right hand in the air as if he was trying to catch the word, "Incredibly cliché for the bad guys to just talk in front of the hostage."

"Well, this makes things easier…" A Gryffindor foolishly exclaimed, only to be held back by one of the older Slytherin.

"Wait. How did you get in here?" The Slytherin was a fourth year, maybe a fifth at most, and Harry saw his eyes were black as they narrowed onto him. Neville was trying to speak, but they had placed a Silencio on him, probably.

"Now, there are two ways to solve this." Harry mused over, "I can kill all of you and have Hogwarts close while your bodies wither and rot within the bowels of the chamber of secrets," he began harshly, "Or you can leave on your own feet. You will not have a second chance." To drive home the point, he snapped his fingers. The sudden trembling and clunking of all of the faucets, soon followed by the cracking of the mirrors and the batting of the bathroom's stall doors made the five students look around in fright.

"You see…I am both the true Heir of Slytherin and the King of Hogwarts. So bow to me or leave." He hissed in the end, before the grumbling noise grew of cacophony, "You do not want me to call forth my beast, do you?" He smugly said with a tight ferocious smirk.

Howling was heard around them and the rasping of claws came from just beyond the wall and that…that was the final cue for the students to leave, in a hurry. Running like their very lives depended on it the students ran out of the bathroom yelling and screaming that the Heir of Slytherin was after their lives.

Harry waited for a moment, before curtly nodding and grabbing Neville by the arm.

"Open." He hissed to the bathroom's faucet with the snake etched upon it, and as the hole opened in the ground, before the Hufflepuff could say anything against it, they both jumped in. "Close!" Harry yelled behind him, just to make sure it would close.

"Keep your eyes closed Neville." Harry said quickly, "Heather has lapses on her death glares when she's nervous, and I'd be saddened to lose you." He muttered as he barely repressed a chuckle at the sight of Neville quickly obeying and shivering in fright.

"I'm leaving you right in front of the infirmary," Harry mused, walking and gesturing to Heather to let him move through as one of the many heads of Slytherin etched upon the sides of the wall opened to extend the usual stone ramp. "From there just say Peeves scared the hell out of them, alright?" Neville couldn't even hum his approval, and so all he did was nod. He did kind of hold tighter when he heard the hisses coming from Heather's throat. Since Harry didn't pick up any words from it, it meant that it was just the normal way for Heather to see without her eyes.

Snakes did that sometimes, didn't they?

Neville used his head to tap against his shoulder, thrice. Harry took a step into the hallway in front of the nursery, and then murmured back to the boy he was carrying with his arm slung over his shoulder.

"Oh, right…what I am going to do?" He asked, and as he received an affirmative nod from the Hufflepuff's head, Harry merely shrugged. "Don't know. I did scare them stiff, so I suppose they'll try and retaliate soon enough…I'll need to have a meeting with…" And then it clicked. "Oh right: gather a couple of Hufflepuffs who would like for house unity. Meet me in front of the architect's statue in the hallway tomorrow. Our year or younger though, don't trust anyone else…and be sure before asking." Harry dropped the boy on the stool of the infirmary, glad that Madam Pomfrey wasn't in the room at the moment.

At Neville's gesture of 'question', Harry chuckled before answering, "Trust me Neville." He patted the boy's shoulder before adding in a low murmured tone, "We will change Hogwarts before the year is over. Now move it, it's nearly past the curfew hour." And with those words said, Harry turned around quickly and left to re-enter the chamber of secrets.

Salazar's chamber of secrets, as the name implied, held many secrets. The faces of the man carved upon the walls, for example, were each a doorway that led somewhere within the school. One appeared right outside the Hufflepuff common room, while another straight in front of the infirmary. Yet one more was in front of the Slytherin's common room, just like one would lead near the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws. The sixth door would lead near the headmaster's office, the seventh brought one near the hallway and the eight, of course, was the one that brought one on the second floor in the abandoned room.

The 'bathroom' exit was the one for the basilisk, but unless Harry was mistaken, Salazar's notes mentioned thirteen exits, not nine. Thirteen was, after all, a powerful magical number.

The ninth 'Salazar' face, which was the tenth exit, the one carved straight ahead from the basilisk's exit into the school and from which the Basilisk tended to descend from led outside. The eleventh door was none other than hidden within the walls and led to the seventh floor, sharing the door with the room of requirements.

Harry had yet to discover what the two remaining exits were and where they led to, but at present he was well enough placed to know he could circle the castle safely, if he so wished. The snake that acted as a guardian for the Slytherin's dungeon looked at him in the eye for a long moment, before it swept itself aside with little problems.

Harry entered the common room amid the gasps of fear and fright of the wailing students, none the less the Slytherins he had scared back in the bathroom to begin with. As his eyes narrowed onwards his targets, he felt a strange wisp-like feeling emanate through his body.

He had been clutching his wand even then, and billowing grey smoke was being emitted by the tip, flowing through the Invisible cloak and basically surrounding him in a sort of grey-like ghostly appearance with shiny green eyes. He felt like one of Scooby-Doo's evil guys actually; especially with the shrieks coming from some first year girl of Slytherin who simply ran upstairs to her dormitories.

Harry's eyes looked around the common room of Slytherin, taking in the black leather sofa, the fire pit, the soft green glow that surrounded the dungeons, the well-furnished area…and the people who were there. More than a dungeon it looked like the inner chambers of a palace, and Harry could hardly fault it: if he had to stay underground, at the very least he would make sure for it to be a comfortable place.

"Miles! Merlin be damned he's the real deal!" The other Slytherin screamed as he took out his wand trembling, "Stay the hell away! Stay away or I swear…"

"Don't antagonize him Pucey for the love of Merlin!" Miles hissed back, putting both of his hands upwards in the universal gesture for surrender. "We didn't want to! I swear we didn't want to! We were asked to! We even got paid you see! We…please don't kill us!" The other boy was literally pleading him, and Harry stood still for a moment. They…they weren't planning on a revenge? Had they…really fallen for such a trick? Well it was with little doubt that they'd still think of him as the real heir of Slytherin.

His cover of having asked Peeves for help had yet to come through after all, fun fact about it was that it was the truth: he had indeed asked Peeves to scare them senseless. His eyes settled on Draco, who was apparently eying him nervously with Vincent and Gregory behind him. Among the paling students some looked at him with fright, but a few…a few he saw holding the same calculating gleam he had so much prided into, when he had first founded the scho…

NO!

"Listen to me and listen well!"

"FUCK OFF."

The ghost-like essence that had surrounded him disappeared as if a fan had struck it throughout with unquestionable strength, dispersing within the cracks of the floor with little trouble. Harry took a single, deep breath, before slowly putting his wand back in his holster.

"This is the only warning I will give." Harry mused out loud, "Tomorrow afternoon, I will start a group. A group that will hold no ties to blood purity, to status or nobility. I will start a group composed of all houses who seek to participate, and who will upon entrance swear a single thing: to be loyal one to another and to help in uniting the school under a single banner, a single house, a single force to be reckoned with. By tomorrow, those who will stand by my side will be the King's men, those who will stand in the sideline shall be left unscathed and those who will oppose me will be crushed. I will tolerate no attacks on any whom I consider my friends and for that, I hope the message has been delivered promptly: I can kill you where you sleep, I can butcher you in your baths and…if you dare oppose me, I will."

Then Harry smiled, made a stiff gesture of a nod towards Draco, and turned to leave. "Those who wish to be King's men will meet tomorrow in front of the architect's statue. Keep in mind: there will be no betrayals, for those who betray will be slaughtered down to their very last relative! That much I swear upon the might of my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin!" And with that final warning that came out with a far more raucous voice, Harry left the common room of the Slytherins.

As he trudged through the open door towards the chamber of secrets, and from there back towards the Ravenclaw common room, he couldn't help but feel slightly tired from the effort. He felt…like he had a ton over his entire body. The combined weight of just what he had done crumbled against him forcing him on his knees within the common room that was deserted. Strangely the study group was fairly less active as of recent, but Harry barely made that thought as he wobbled back on his feet.

He felt the need to puke his own guts out and slap himself to death. He had basically delivered his starting speech as a Dark Lord to the masses of the Slytherin dungeon, when he had asked Neville to ask just a few and be careful about it. He had…for a single moment he had felt a wave of pure exhilaration at the thought of having them all mesmerized by his words, by his actions, by his decisions. He had talked and they had listened.

He had acted…He…He flung his head against the cold stone wall of the common room, not strong enough to bleed but strong enough to feel it and hear the light 'thunk' the noise made.

"Stupid!" He whimpered. "Stupid!" He exclaimed. "Idiot!" He added. "What the hell was that!? Promising murder!? What am I, Stalin with the Gulags!?" He crumpled like a broken twig on the floor, in front of the fire. "I'm an idiot." He whispered in the end, "A true idiot."

"Everything's alright?" A voice asked from the staircase. Harry's head snapped to the side, staring at the puzzled face of one of the first years, a boy with casket-short brown hair and dark eyes. Probably the closest to the stairs, if he had heard him. "Did the…Did the heir take anyone?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then shook his head. The fake heir hadn't taken anyone while the real one might have convinced people that he and the fake were the same though, considering his threats. If only there was a way to discern the real one from the false one… Then he blinked.

Oh.

That could work. No, scratch that. That would work.

He knew what he had to do now.

"What's your name?" He asked, curious as he stared at the boy in question.

"Huh? I'm Andrew." The young boy meekly replied.

"Good. I'm Harry Scamander, heir of Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw, adopted by Scamander and thus Heir of Helga Hufflepuff through it. In short: I'm the heir of badgers, ravens and snakes. I am known as King. I…" Harry stood back up slowly, a smile on his face, "Am the King of the Animals that built Hogwarts...Thank you for your help, Andrew. You know, your name comes from the Greek," Harry chuckled, "It means Man and Courage. I'll remember you." Then he walked straight towards his dorm room, and fell asleep like a rock. The next morning, he would have a lot to do.

*Ron Weasley*

The morning was met with a strange and eerie silence through the entire common hall. Hagrid was missing, and yet that wasn't what was on the rumor mill. No, the very worrisome fact was that silence was all that stood in the hall, as the morning of Monday began. The professors were surprisingly quiet too, albeit they probably had their reason with Hagrid's being taken in as the scapegoat. The flying professor was missing too, but the poor bloke was having a really horrible year.

His entire family tree was practically dropping like flies. The man, Sirius Black, belonging to an ancient and noble house of purebloods was losing cousins, great-cousins, grandfathers, uncles and aunts. They always made the news, and the daily prophet was even running an article concerning the 'Black-Death plague' that was surrounding the family. Some even went as far as speaking of a curse being placed on them.

Yet the silence was unnerving, completely and utterly still. Finally, Ron could hold the question no longer and turned to his table-mate, Hermione.

"What's going on?" He asked in a low murmur. "They're all awfully silent."

"I don't know." Hermione replied simply, "Whatever it is, it has our upperclassmen in tatters. Look at Angus and Iain over there; they're both shaking like they saw a Dementor."

Ron scrunched his nose for a moment. He had no idea who Angus and Iain were at the table or what a Dementor was, but he did notice a few of the upperclassmen were positively pale and white. The low whispers weren't even hearable, and the sheer fright the two boys displayed was something similar to what he did when he saw a spider of all things.

"Looks like we're about to find out." He whispered slowly, as his eyes looked at the incoming figures of the few Ravenclaws who were the ones furthest away from the dining hall. The last one to enter strolled in slowly, his eyes gleaming over to their table, then the Slytherin and finally the Hufflepuff. Ron saw the boy nod towards the last two, and he repressed a shiver. The feeling he had when looking at…at Harry was of fear.

It frightened him. Those eyes, that pale skin, the way he walked. It was frankly a wonder nobody was screaming or running away.

"He's the real deal. We're dead. We don't believe shit of what Pucey says next time." One of the Gryffindors hissed loud enough to be picked up by Ron, who stiffened.

"The real Heir."

"Shit was he scary last night."

"Nobody's safe."

"He's got a bloody monster at his command."

"We're dead." The whispers that hurried through the room by the Slytherin table were met with an equally astonished flurry of whispers from the Hufflepuff.

"Unite the houses? Is he mad?"

"That's like, breaking centuries of tradition."

"Wouldn't be bad though."

"You kidding? Think befriending some Gryffindork without knowing!"

Suddenly, amidst the chaos, the sharp sound of metal hitting against metal echoed. Albus Dumbledore stood up from his spot at the center of the professor table, before coughing once in order to garner the attention of everyone in the room.

"It has come to my attention that Peeves has been harassing some students with bad taste jokes, and working together with Mr. Scamander, has effectively convinced a few older student of his so called true Heritage. Mr. Scamander, while I applaud the courage you demonstrated into moving to safeguard your friend from the plot of jealous Slytherins, I am however loathe to grant points concerning the method you used that just increased the fright in the school; something that does you no honor."

Ron listened to the conversation eagerly. So apparently whatever had happened concerned events of last night, and the Gryffindors' older years had had some work into it. Maybe they had helped Harry fight off the plot of the Slytherins? He knew they shouldn't be trusted by now after all. Maybe, and just because Harry was after all Lillian's brother, he could try and make an effort again with the boy…as long as he admitted he had been a bloody idiotic git to believe Malfoy to be someone worthy of befriending.

"Thus I will have to remove ten points from the houses of those who participated in last night events, and twenty more will be removed from Ravenclaw for the sheer lack of thought of what one's own words may affect. Mr. Scamander will furthermore make a formal apology to the parties he has in such a way offended, by also publicly renouncing his claims of being the heir of Salazar Slytherin. A swearing under magic will suffice, my boy." Dumbledore said lastly, with a try of kindly grandfather tone.

Ron looked aghast at the boy. Did he really have the nerves to actually proclaim himself the heir of Salazar? In public? Well, Dumbledore seemed to believe he wasn't the heir, and to go as far as have him swear under his own magic that he wasn't one…that was a bit harsh, wasn't it?

"Dumbledore's going to get it." Hermione whispered with…a strange amused tone. "He bit off more than he could chew."

"Hermione? What are you…" But Ron's words died in their throat, as Harry coughed, stood up, and then slowly walked towards the front of the four houses' tables.

"Just listen. This will go down in history," was all that the brown haired witch said.

*Draco Malfoy*

Draco was holding his fork and knife as if they were anchors of safety. Next to him both Gregory and Vincent were positively holding their breath, as they looked at the boy their own age walk as if he possessed some sort of power that forced them to look at him. His father had told him once the stories of how the Dark Lord simply exuded charisma, and brought people under his fold with little effort. He offered them what they wanted, and made it so they would be forever loyal to him. The Dark Mark was just a symbol of that loyalty.

When he had been little, Draco had dreamed of receiving the Dark Mark just like his father, and become something his father would be proud of. Unfortunately, he realized with his mother's words, those dreams were foolish. A real Slytherin was first of all a person who survived, a person who held the right ambitions to power, and a person who knew when to cut his losses. The Dark Lord had lost, and thus instead of dreaming of the past, one should start looking towards the future.

He was now looking at Harry Dursley, the boy he had befriended through a strange twist of fate one morning, when he had been the one in search for fellow purebloods to turn into his goons, and that instead he had hailed as King because of his wits after one morning in the library. There simply had been no other choice. His mother always used to tell him that arrogance killed the wizard. The best Slytherin of course were not humble, but they did not let pride blind them to power.

After the previous night, when Harry had strolled into the Slytherins' common room with ease, proclaiming himself the one true heir of Salazar and displaying an aura that had made him stare with open eyes, Draco had no doubts. Harry was indeed the real heir of Salazar, and if he now stood there, with the room given and publicly said that…

Draco looked at Harry taking a deep breath, clench his fists, and then, with his twin green eyes bore a hole outright into the Headmaster's own gaze.

Then, the boy began to talk.

"Hello." He began softly, "I'm sure many are actually thinking if the Headmaster is mad or merely an old coot by now." He added, "I am, after all, the true Heir of Slytherin, Peeves notwithstanding." He chuckled, "I could bore you with a long and complex dialogue, maybe a bit of high strung words in my defense, but I won't. I am the true Heir of Slytherin and the Basilisk, the beast that lives in the chamber of secrets, is at my command. Last night, I refused to use it against students of the school and instead asked for Peeves' help. I am not the murderer, but I am the true Heir of Slytherin. There. I said it. I'm the real Heir of Slytherin and no amount of ducking your head under the sand will convince me otherwise." His voice was softly spoken, and even though Draco had been expecting something far longer and with more verve, this was…kind of soothing.

"I am not a blood thirsty assassin though. So what if my ancestor is Salazar?" He shrugged, "I also have Rowena Ravenclaw among my ancestors, by the way, but does anyone realize that? Nah. Too busy with a stupid chamber that's good as a napping spot and nothing more…" Draco blinked. What was the boy aiming at? "Certainly if people are idiots and still believe I could possibly murder anyone, I can hardly fault them. They do go to school here, do they not?" The boy raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn't you teach people not to be stupid actually? Isn't all this panic, this fright, this fear…your fault, Headmaster? You should have found out the culprit quite fast enough, isn't it? You defeat Voldemort," flinches and small gasps of terror were heard through the room. "And you can't catch a mere murderer with delusions of grandeur?"

"Mr. Scamander, by your very own admission, shouldn't Professor Potter be the heir of the chamber?" Albus queried after few seconds of silence, earning a shocked gurgled noise from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Albus!"

"The Potter line descends from one of the cadet lines of the Peverell, who is a cadet line of the Slytherin." The Bloody Baron spoke grievously, hovering downwards from the ceiling of the dining hall. "Just like Harry here is instead of the principal line, for having been adopted by the descendant of mine and Helena Ravenclaw's spawn."

Draco gulped down in fright. The Baron appeared to be positively pissed, and if he was scary even when he was normally acting, it had been months since they had last seen him, and they hadn't been kind at all. At least, if time could not be kind for a ghost, Draco didn't know. What he knew was that right in that moment, he was contemplating between running the hell away from the scary ghost and screaming.

He did neither of course, but the temptation was there.

*Harry*

Harry blinked at the hovering ghost, who slowly but surely made its way downwards from the ceiling and…

"And because of that," he spoke loudly, "I am the true Heir of Slytherin! No amount of compulsions or charms will change the outcome, for only true disownment can avow that which magic has bind! You may now query yourself, Dumbledore! Ask yourself: since when did he manage to deflect my legilimency? Since when did he know? And once you have asked yourself those questions, remember that you are nothing, compared to might of Salazar!"

Then he took a single step forward, and the banners that normally would hang from the ceilings during the parting fest came unbind and fell down, revealing symbols that had never before been seen. A golden S stood encrypted and encircled by snakes, all with a dark blue background. The symbol of Slytherin hung visible by the tapestries, and with the awed looks of those in the room, Harry tapped his chest with his fist.

"Things will change, Headmaster. I thought of staying in the background, of letting everything flow and bide my time. Apparently someone seeks confrontation: the fake heir is proof enough after all." The boy mused, "Now Headmaster, I have told my truth…what have you to say for yourself? Do you need further proof? Should I awaken the basilisk from the chamber," raucous murmurs and shrieks of fright ensued, "To prove my point? Should I unleash the might of Salazar upon the unworthy? And mind you, I'm not talking about muggleborns." Here he chuckled until it turned into a full out laugh again.

"I'm talking about certain scum that thinks kidnapping my friends and torturing them for information is fine. I'm speaking about people who hold no qualms…obliviating other people, and…" And then there was a brief strutting choke sound coming from the muggle studies professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, "And know this…" He hissed dangerously, "All the harm that is given shall be returned tenfold. That much, indeed, I swear!"

Albus merely smiled after few minutes of silence, before nodding his head slowly.

"Then it appears I owe you my excuses, Mr. Scamander. I am sorry I doubted your claims…would it be possible to have the tapestries back in their place?"

Harry's right eyebrow twitched. Was there anything that actually made the man angry!? Out of the entire room, the one that was currently showing more emotions was the muggle studies professor, who was apparently in the process of looking around for a quick way out of the castle probably. In any event, Harry nodded once stiffly and then returned to his place at the Ravenclaw table.

It took less than one minute for a volley of murmurs, questions and answers to fly around the tables. Harry's eyes instead caught for just a second those of the Headmaster, and within those icy blue eyes he knew…he knew he had taken his side. He was in the game now. The question however was, would he win it?

At the professor's table, his 'mother' was wringing the cup with her hands, eying him carefully with a mixture of worry and…was that anger? His 'father' on the other hand was merely looking at Dumbledore and whispering to him. Whatever they were saying was drowned when a hand clapped against his shoulder.

"Well said!" Basileus cheerfully exclaimed, "It is not our past or our ancestors that defines us, but what we do with the present!" He was however the only one cheerful enough. The notion that he was indeed the real heir of Salazar would probably need time to sink in, but once it did, Harry held little doubt things would keep being the same way. Already a few were looking at him as if he was some sort of strange creature with multiple heads, while others whispered furiously while pointing at him.

"By the way, what was that piece of flashing red eyes when you said 'Salazar'?" Basileus asked interested, "It was quite well placed as a scenic prop."

Harry…blinked. What the hell?

*Lucius Malfoy*

The room was made of white and black marble, with stone column decorated through golden motifs in the form of leaves that climbed all the way towards the ceiling. There was a mahogany desk, with a Lucius Malfoy was currently reading the letters delivered to him by his close associates, when he heard laughter erupt outside of the door.

It took him a moment to compose himself and realize who had laughed. When he did, the speed with whom he left the room and reached for the Dark Lord's own was probably on par with that of a flying broom, albeit the man did manage to recollect himself outside of the door and politely knock.

"My Lord, is everything alright?"

"Come in, Lucius." The tone was there, the commanding obeying tone of Lord Voldemort that had made him immediately attracted by the man's power and charisma. As the Death Eater walked inside, he saw an owl with a bright white plumage standing perched against the window sill. His heart leaped. Could it mean?

"The plan is working well," Voldemort remarked, "And I must admit from my latest letters…it is proceeding way more than what we could have expected." The Dark Lord flexed his fingers, as its snake, Nagini, slithered its way into his lap from a dark corner of the room. "Pity for the philosopher's stone, it would have made my return from the dead far more pleasant than what it was…but if it isn't at Hogwarts…" Voldemort stood up, in his grace as a seventy one year old man he had not once hobbled or bent, his eyes were pitch black charcoal and his hair was a bright buzz-cut short white color. He was wearing a suit, dark green with a dark brown tie, and he looked far more like a muggle executive than one of the most powerful wizard in existence.

"My Lord, has…Has there been any news from the other parties?" Lucius nervously asked, his lips drying up as Nagini's head moved dangerously close to him, the tongue darting out to sniff the air.

"My faithful Death Eater," Voldemort began in a slow tone, "Severus is as elusive as ever, but I know that deep down he is a coward at heart. He will not fight if he can run." The old man shook his head carefully, "The other me, however, poses a problem." Nagini hissed in anger, as the rage of the wizard fanned through the room, making Lucius lose his own breath and gasp for air.

"Maybe Draco could…"

"Draco? No. Absolutely not." Voldemort snorted. "Do not give him orders he is not bound to complete, Lucius. If Harry is anything like our spy within the castle claims he is, then I may as well leave the matter of my other self to him before the end of the school year…" Silence ensued for few brief seconds, before Voldemort asked with his chilling and cold tone, "Have you found out anything about…our nuisance?"

"No, my Lord." Lucius squeaked, "I tried, but…"

"Lucius…" Voldemort sighed with a small smirk.

"Crucio."

Author's notes

And the real heir is out. Of course the fallout will be catastrophic in proportions. As for why Harry does not directly accuse Dumbledore, it is clear that firstly, nobody would believe him, (the high political quarters would without doubt side with Dumbledore) and secondly because leaving the threat hanging is always better than revealing the cards. That said, I suppose I should point out that the Voldemort of Malfoy and the Voldemort of Scamander are different, (the second is distinctively younger for one) as well as the Voldemort of the Diary of Hogwarts is different once more…or I might be lying.

Basileus is, of course, not an Oc Demilich from D&D but curse you for the plot bunny! Curse youuu! {joking}. By this point around you should have quickly realized that he is under Polyjuice. Who he is of course is open to debacle, but you will find out. Probably.

What else? Oh right:

Andrew is actually a character from the dueling club in one of HP games, Harry's actions are increasingly going erratic and…well, the reason why Harry revealed his true self is quite easy to discern:

By becoming the true heir, he calls the 'fake' one (Who could be or not Tom Riddle of the Diary) the principal culprit, and since the only 'death' happened through a gory means, the Basilisk is discarded as 'weapon' of murder, and he can walk through the halls of Hogwarts as Heir…while the megalomaniac with Parseltongue tries to find a way out of his own predicament.

Yet it appears he played straight into Voldemort's hand…Who knows what will happen in the future?

Oh right, I do.