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A massive crow emerged from the green fire, and then came landing on her right shoulder. Alexandra winced under the weight of the bird, which was several times heavier than Atalanta. The rest was so confused Alexandra would never be sure if it was reality or her own imagination. Thousands of images, visions and scenes rushed before her very eyes, scenes of battles, births and deaths. War and peace, nice cultivated lands and complete ruins. Alexandra watched as a great snake divided itself in two before bursting in a cascade of blood. Spectres came and danced, dark fortresses rose and fell. Creatures from tales and nightmares screamed in the night. A massive army, magnificent warriors of the light, mounted on horses, massing for battle. A circle of dolmens under the sunset witnessed an ambush, heroes surrounded by enemies. A grandiose arena of long age pasts returned to its former glory, and a crowd screaming for battle and murder. A volcano erupted in ashes and lava, wizards and witches fought each other while darkness absorbed everything. Grandiose palaces illuminated the world from their thousand of lights, with young adults dancing and partying in expensive clothes. A man rising from a putrid fog forcing dark-robed figures to bow and acclaim him. Disputes and feuds obscured assemblies of the elders and the wise. Monsters entered the dimension and destroyed millions. A great fish sank ships and sundered the coastal areas. A great white fortress was built in the middle of an ocean of green flames. Great dragons obscured the skies. Endless armies of automatons advancing in an unstoppable tide. Light and darkness fought a last time in the middle of fire, water, wind and earth. At no moment of her life Alexandra had not been prepared for this torrent of visions. The Potter Heiress progressively fell to her knees under the onslaught of horrors and marvels she was now forced to contemplate. Finally, she saw the crow renew his flight again and plunge in the fire.
From the emerald abyss, an imperious voice was heard. Or was it all in her head?
"You will lead my armies to the final battle."
The green flames died instantly. It was Alexandra's last vision before everything stopped and she let Morag take her outside the circle of ancient stones.
In the Gryffindor Common Room that evening, Leo Black, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were struggling over their Potions homework. All three were in a very bad mood, having had to support Professor Severus Snape in the afternoon. Melting one cauldron, earning two evenings of detention and losing twenty points for Gryffindor had not made the day any better. The red-haired member of the Golden Trio was showing a far angrier expression than his two friends though, which might have a thing or two with his severely damaged wand. Instead of removing ink strains from his Potions assignment, the magical focus was igniting the parchment his essay was currently written on. The homework, already of poor quality, had now good odds of earning his owner a 'T'.
Fuming as much as the flames which had risen over his homework in the last minutes, Ron shut down his Potions book. Seconds later, Neville and Leo imitated him. They all loathed the Potions class, a feeling made it easier by the teacher overseeing their work. Unlike the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw who dealt with the mediocre Junior Professor Whitehead, the second-years Gryffindor and Slytherin had to endure the presence of Professor Snape. The Head of Slytherin had never hidden his disdain of the Lions and his favouritism of his own House; therefore the New Marauders and their housemates had reduced their interest in the course to the potential application of liquids for pranks of all kinds. A series of 'P' and 'D' had not helped change their opinion. Why do your best writing a ten-inch essay on the third property of Dragon Blood when there were far more interesting places to explore. Moreover, the revelation of Professor Binns about the Chamber of Secrets this afternoon in History class was obviously taking priority over an assignment Snape wouldn't grade fairly.
"Who can it be, though?" Asked Leo Black, pronouncing at high voice what every member of the four Houses had discussed t least once in the last forty-eight hours. "Who is the Heir of Slytherin?"
"It's fairly obvious I think." Said Ron in feigned surprise. "Who do we know who wants all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"
The youngest son of Arthur Weasley looked at Neville, seeking his approbation. Leo looked back, seemingly unconvinced.
"If you're talking about Malfoy..."
"Of course I am!" Said Ron. "You heard him: "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him..."
"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Leo sceptically. "Don't get me wrong, I hate the blonde git, but if he was really able to open the Chamber of Secrets for one year and a half, why do it now?"
"Look at his family!" Said Ron vehemently. The disgust between the Weasley and Malfoy families had existed well before one member of the current generation had been sorted, and it had not gotten better in the last months. "The whole lot of them have always been in Slytherin, they could easily be descendants of Salazar Slytherin. His father's definitely enough, as his the rest of his family. They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries! Handing it down, father to son …"
"Well," said Leo in a cautious manner, "I suppose it's possible, but it could always be someone else..."
"It could also be Potter!" Proposed Weasley. "You all saw how pale she's been since the week-end, I bet she could have used a Dark Ritual to open the Chamber!"