"Wait in my library," Lucius said to Septima Vector. "I must make sure that Narcissa is slumbering over her book. You know the way to the library. I'll meet you there in a few minutes."
When he returned, masking his tenseness with his usual supercilious smile, he saw Septima, dressed in her crimson gown with the fur collar, staring at his desk in a nook at the end of the elegant shelves of books and art works.
"What news do you bring?" he asked, coming up to her.
"Leon is with Sanguino in the domain," she said. "They should be in the Chamber of Pigments by now, preparing to deal with Severus and his entourage. Was Carrow able to speak privately to Boris at St Mungo's?"
"Briefly," said Lucius. "The boy was accosted by Mad-Eye outside the castle and put under the Imperius curse, as I suppose you know?"
"Albus told me."
"And you're sure he trusts you?"
"One can't be sure, not with Albus, but I've no reason to doubt his trust. After all, he trusts Severus. He ought to be able to trust me."
He saw that she was looking intently at the glass file-folder on his desk.
"I brought the painting of the Chamber of Pigments," she said, taking a miniature oil painting from a small purse attached to her left hand glove. "I was thinking that we could watch the events transpiring there, if your viewer can manage it."
Lucius took the miniature from her and slipped it into the file folder. The glass magnified the painting. There was depth to it now, like gazing through a window at the scene.
He frowned. "But isn't this the Chamber of Secrets, of the Slytherin Heir?" he asked.
"Hellington modelled the scene after the Heir's secret chamber," Septima explained. "But notice the difference. In the far wall, where the sculpture of the basilisk stood, there is instead a sculpture of the Roc."
Lucius nodded, intrigued. "Interesting renovation. Here then, where Potter destroyed Riddle's diary, a Voldemort horcrux, is where he shall meet his doom. How appropriate. He did precisely what we intended him to do, and now, if fortune smiles on us, Sanguino and Hexaba will likewise do as planned."
Septima smiled coldly, her eyes flashing at a thought that did not go unnoticed by Lucius.
"Whether Hexaba survives or not will depend," he said, "on how much Charlie Weasley learned about her skills and habits from Studmann."
Septima's smile warmed a trifle. "And if Charlie is successful in defending himself, we can always deal with him later," she said confidently.
"With great pleasure," Lucius agreed. "The important thing is to end the annoying lives of Snape and Potter. One more horcrux gone, one more Loyalist gone. And Granger for good measure. Her double disappointed me last year, you'll recall."
"Yes. And... Minerva's niece? Are we to hope for her demise as well?"
Lucius considered the consequences. "She is a harmless prattle of a girl, a typical Hufflepuff. And her death would likely set her Aunt Minerva on a rampage against me, though the good professor will have no real evidence of my involvement. But let us not borrow trouble. If Giselle McGonagall dies, she dies, and the chips will fall as they may. Look... Sanguino and Hexaba have entered the Chamber, with my faithful elf slave."
They watched the three figures going down the nave of polished green flagstones between the gurgling streams fed by serpent-head fountains. In the far wall the Roc sculpture seemed to be gazing at the wizard, the witch, and the elf expectantly. Its eyes had a dull sheen that throbbed like a pulse.
Hexaba touched Sanguino's arm, halting him.
"It's that crow again," she said with exasperation. "Back there, to one side of the door, preening itself. This is the third time I've seen it. I don't like the looks of it. I fear Dumbledore's up to something. I tried to kill it earlier, at the Tower, but the curse was deflected by a streak of paint on the Tower roof. A badly painted scene, to be sure."
Sanguino stroked his dark beard. "I have a theory," he said, musingly. "The Confundus spell you cast on the entrance cave to the lair, to disorient the phoenix should it enter, has reverted it back to its Burning Crow history, the mythology that led to the creation of the first phoenix by Marcus of Alexandria. Fawkes has no great magical powers now. Its reversion to a crow was caused by this alternate reality."
Hexaba was not convinced. "But why then hasn't this alternate reality disposed of my powers, and that of Severus and the others?"
"Simple," said Sanguino. "You and the other living people have not reverted to a previous nature. You have no other nature to revert to. Now, we ought not to be distracted by theories. Our nemesis is coming. Isn't that right, Minx?"
The elf stood crouching, his fingers feeling the points of his ears, his bulging eyes darting to and fro.
"They are leaving the lair cavern," he was saying in a frightened voice. "They are being led by a very odd creature."
"A Roc fledgling," guessed Sanguino.
"So it was once, but no longer!" the elf gasped, trembling. "It seems made of Bloodwort leaves, shaped like a person, stumbling along in front of them. Very odd! It appears to be a mix of fear and obedience, of love and hate! I don't know what to think of it!"
Sanguino and Hexaba looked questioningly at each other, as if each suspected the other of knowing what this portended.
"And the Potter boy," Minx continued, "he is very upset with Severus Snape, something about the boy's mother."
"Ah yes," Sanguino said, "the boy's mother."
He turned to face the gigantic sculpture. And raising his wand he intoned a spell that drew a bright green light from the stone neck of the Roc down to its underbelly. The light widened and became an opening.
"Lily Potter, come forth."
Hexaba stepped back in surprise and consternation. "No!" she cried in a near scream. "I sacrificed her! I made of her a smear of colors!"
"Calm yourself," Sanguino advised her, as Lily stepped out onto the nave in a white hospital smock that was soiled by paint and blood. She stood there with a confused expression, as if she had just awakened from a strange dream and was trying to make sense of it.
"Explain this!" demanded Hexaba, turning on Sanguino with her hands balled into quivering fists.
"I did not want your curse to be effected by the knowledge of my necromantic experiment," he said, admiring Lily's extremely realistic appearance. "I mixed her paint with the blood of the late Leon Vlaud. Look there," he urged, shining the lightbeam from his wand into the recess of the opening. It revealed the pale corpse of Leon lying on its back, the arms outflung.
"Now Lily Potter is as alive as a living portrait can possibly be," Sanguino said with a sigh of satisfaction. "Now my thirst will be quenched by blood that is very nearly as real as blood can be. I shall grow stronger. Much, much stronger. In time I will be so very nearly alive, as nearly alive as you, my Sweetness," he added, smiling with a coarse fondness at the astonished Hexaba.
Lily put a hand to her forehead, her eyes wide and filling with tears. "Severus--?"
Sanguino looked at the elf. "They are approaching? Courage, you monkey! ARE they approaching?"
Minx nodded, his breath stalled in his throat. "They and the odd creature!" he gasped out, shaking as he stared back at the stone door.
"Could it--" said Hexaba in a nervous whisper. "Could it be Dumbledore?"
Sanguino was agitated. "The devil knows," he said, then caught his breath in angry surprise as Lily started down the nave.
"Severus?" she called out. "Severus!"
"Stop!" shouted Sanguino, flourishing his wand at her. "STASIS!"
The crow spread its wings and cawed.
Snape followed the walking figure of Bloodwort leaves around a corner of the passage. At sight of the stone door he paused, a hand raised to halt the group.
"The Chamber of the Slytherin Heir?" he said to no one in particular.
"So this is it!" said Charlie. He looked back at Harry, who was shouldering his way past Hermione, Bea, and Giselle, his face full of memories.
"Yes," he said. "Where I... and Ginny..."
The figure of curling, fluttering leaves leaned against the door. Its incessant cries had ceased, and now, to everyone's amazement, it said in a clear voice, "My sister--!"
Harry stared up at Snape, just as Giselle had a flash of insight.
"It's Mrs Dursley!" she said, a hand to her cheek. "The leaf that was caught in her hair--!"
Snape immediately cast a Revealo spell. When the effect failed, he tried again, adding "Maximus!"
The symmetry of leaves broke apart, and in the next moment Petunia stood swaying on tremulous legs, her hair cluttered with leaves, her muggle dress disheveled, one shoe missing.
Hermione gripped Harry by the arm and said excitedly, but with an underlying anxiety, "Harry, open the door!" She looked up at Snape. "It requires Parseltongue," she said to him. "And... maybe only Harry can open it."
Snape smiled grimly. "Only the Heir of Slytherin can open it."
Charlie grunted in disbelief.
"It's... not me," Harry said, his voice faltering. He took a deep breath and walked up to the door.
His Aunt Petunia shrank back from him, sliding along the stone wall, staring at him transfixed.
Harry shook himself, a tight hold on his wand. And setting his gaze on the locking mechanism of the door, he spoke to it in a long sibilant hiss.
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