I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that.

Pomona Sprout sat stiffly in her seat and tried not to whimper. She was a woman of the earth. She loved things that grew in soil. She joked that she was a well grounded person. 'I don't even like to fly', she thought to herself. 'How did I let myself get talked into this?'

She was on the Troopers flying machine, strapped into a seat, and was terrified out of her mind. Her fingers gripped the armrests of her seat so hard they were making indentations in the hard foam cushioning. Her eyes were glued to the blue waves speeding along just below the flying machine. While she didn't like the heights associated with flying, she liked flying this low over the water at this insane speed even less.

"Blondie?" she asked in the bravest voice she could muster. "Must we fly this fast so low?" Pomona, like many of the professors at Hogwarts, had a very difficult time getting used to addressing the troopers in such a familiar manner, but she made a greater effort to make the guests feel welcome than many of her colleagues did.

"We do have to fly this low," answered the small, blond woman. "This ship was not designed for stealth. We're trying to avoid being detected." She was studying a display which Pomona could not understand. "You do need to slow down, though," she said to the pilot. "We're going to draw attention flying this fast."

Wings nudged the throttle forward another half an inch. The ship accelerated. The pilot had a stormy expression on his face and was breathing heavily.

"Wings," Blondie said, trying to get his attention. She diverted her attention from her control panel to look at the pilot. "We're going to be seen if you don't slow down."

Wings still didn't answer.

"Wake up!" Blondie yelled, hitting the pilots shoulder slightly with her fist. This finally drew his attention.

"Those things killed Rev and we're on a glorified shopping trip," Wings snarled. "We should be back there, helping to kill those... things."

"Rev was my friend too," Blondie said, "but we can grieve for him later. We have a mission. We have orders, and we have to carry them out."

Wings didn't answer.

"Without being spotted," Blondie added, exasperated.

'Fantastic,' thought Pomona to herself. 'I'm in a flying death trap flown by an emotionally unstable man.'

A few seconds later a high pitched beeping sound filled the cockpit. It was accompanied with a flashing red light on Blondie's control panel.

"We just got pinged," Blondie said, shaking her head. "Single aircraft, thirty thousand feet, bearing 260..." On a monitor to Blondie's right, Pomona saw a picture of what looked to her like a strange grey bird with a dinner plate on its back.

"Did you turn on the cloak?" Wings asked.

"Yes," Blondie answered, "but it's not designed to be used at this speed in an atmosphere."

Wings didn't respond.

"Surface vessel," Blondie reported, examining her display. "Correction, three surface vessels."

"I'll skirt along to the right of them," Wings finally said. He moved one of his control sticks and the ship banked slightly to the right. The inertial dampers kept the motion from harming the passengers, but Pomona could still feel it.

"It's a group of eight vessels," Blondie reported, getting a better reading on her display as they flew closer. "At this rate we're going to fly right through their formation."

"What are they going to do about it?" Wings asked, belligerently. A yellow light began to flash.

"We're being hailed," Blondie said. She flipped a switch and they all heard a short burst of static, followed by a voice.

"Unidentified aircraft," a male voice announced, "you are approaching restricted airspace. Change course immediately to heading 035 and identify yourself." They did not answer, nor did Wings obey the order to change course.

"Distance to nearest contact, 280 klicks," Blondie said. There was a warbling alarm as one glowing dot separated from one of the surface ships. It was quickly followed by another dot. The two new contacts accelerated towards the center crosshair that indicated their position.

"Missile alert!" Blondie called out.

On one of the grey support ships, first one, then another Surface to Air missile leapt from the rail they had sat on for the entire cruise. Once the missiles were far enough away from the ship, the boosters detached and fell into the ocean. A solid mass of fuel erupted from them and they began chasing down the intruder at Mach 3.5.

On the deck of the American aircraft carrier U.S.S. Enterprise, two fighter planes were igniting their engines. Three minutes after the incoming aircraft was detected, they screamed off the the deck of the catapult one after another. As soon as they were airborne they turned to intercept the intruding aircraft. Their wings swept back to form a delta shape as they slipped past the speed of sound.

"We have two bogies in pursuit," Blondie called out, annoyed. "Do you want me to fly?"

"No," Wings said.

"Then would you?" she asked.

Wings didn't answer. Flipping a switch on his panel, a red box appeared around each of the dots on the radar screen that were rapidly making their way to the center crosshair. A moment later a high pitched beeping indicated a target lock. Pressing his weapons trigger, two small interceptor missiles launched from the transport. Seconds later there were twin explosions as the incoming missiles were destroyed. They had a brief view of a large ship with a flight deck as the Thunderclap screamed overhead. There was a visible wake behind it as the ship changed course to avoid any ordinance the unknown aircraft may have deployed.

Wings fire-walled the throttle and the transport shot forward. It quickly accelerated to over Mach 4, leaving the fighter aircraft far behind. More dots appeared on the radar, following them.

"Four more missiles, in pursuit." reported Blondie. "We're overheating."

"How can they travel so quickly between stars but not here?" Pomona wondered. She would have asked, but feared distracting the two while they were apparently under attack. Blondie answered her unasked question anyway.

"Damn it, Wings," Blondie complained, "we can't travel this fast in an atmosphere! We're going to rip ourselves apart!" As she said this, Pomona realized the seat she was in was actually shaking. Looking out the window to her right, she could see the wing out that side was starting to glow orange. Additional warning lights began to flash.

"We'll slow down once we get past them," Wings answered. A few seconds later, some of the beeping stopped.

"The missiles have lost lock," Blondie said, calmer. "They're gone." She glared at Wings, then returned her attention to her display.

"They can't catch up," Wings said, trying to divert Blondie's temper. It didn't work.

"I'm taking the controls," she declared. "You are compromised."

"I'm sorry," Wings said. "I've got it under control, now. I'll be fine."

Blondie glared at him again and he turned over control of the ship to her station. She immediately reduced the throttle and ship stopped shaking. The rest of the beeping slowed, then stopped as cooling systems bled heat off of the skin of the ship.

"Watch the radar," she ordered Wings. "I'm going to get us back on course, maintain this speed for two more minutes to get us out of range of any pursuers, and then slow down."

"Roger," Wings acknowledged. He sounded subdued, but he was back in control of himself.

It was a strange procession of people and floating bodies that was progressing down the hallway. Dumbledore led the way back to the hospital wing. Harry hung his head in shame. He was dreading what Master Toma would think of his actions. While he had saved Ginny, he knew that it was the attack on Hermione that had really prompted him to lead two other students down to the Chamber. Toma would not be impressed with that.

"Harry!" came a yell. Aurors Tonks and Dawlish were running towards them. Dawlish was scowling, but Tonks grabbed him into a hug and squeezed him tight. "We've been looking all over for you," she scolded him. "We had to search every compartment of the train before we found out you had gone back to the school."

"We cannot protect you if you don't let us," Dawlish added.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I figured you would know when Professor McGonagall asked Neville and I to come with her."

"No," Tonks said, shooting a glare at Minerva. "We'll be having a few words about that later."

"I'm sure that conversation will be most illuminating," Dumbledore said, drawing the aurors attention to himself. In the meantime, we would be grateful of your help."

The two aurors fell in line and added their levitation charms to the procession of petrified bodies floating through the corridor.

As they entered the hospital wing, the group saw a now healed Professor Snape manning Madam Pomphrey's desk. Snape stared at the body of Professor Lockhart, his face betraying no emotion.

"Headmaster?" he asked. "What has happened?"

"All in good time, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Please see to the students and administer whatever aid you can."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said. He gestured at Harry and Neville, indicating that they should sit on two adjacent hospital beds. He drew his wand and began examining their injuries. Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva," he said. "Please contact Saint Mungo's. We are going to need several healers stationed here till Madam Pomfrey can be restored. Then contact Amelia Bones. I foresee the immediate need for additional auror support."

The doors to the Hospital Wing slammed open with a bang. Lucius Malfoy stormed in. He rushed to Draco's frozen body, glaring at Harry as he crossed the room.

"What have you done to my son?" he snarled at Dumbledore.

"He has been petrified," Professor Dumbledore answered, calmly. "He was very fortunate. Others in his position have died today."

"He should not have been in that position at all!" Mr. Malfoy yelled, his face turning red with rage.

"On that point we are in agreement," Dumbledore said. "While Draco was quite foolish to venture down in to the chamber at all, though, I believe the blame for the incident should be laid at the feet of the person responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets in the first place."

"And," Lucius prompted, "Who is it?"

"You, of course," Dumbledore said. "You arranged for your master's diary to be placed with a first year student, and you even abused the position you maneuvered yourself into to prevent that student from turning it over to me."

Malfoy's eyers narrowed at Dumbledore.

"A very interesting accusation," Malfoy hissed. "Why don't you prove it?"

"We will, of course," Dumbledore said. "We have Dobby, after all." Malfoy's face went white. "In your efforts to kill him as cruelly as possible you left him just enough time for us to save him. His testimony will ensure you will never harm this school or it's students again. Aurors, arrest him, if you please."

"You'll have to kill me first," Malfoy snarled. With a twist of his wrist, he withdrew his wand from his walking stick and pointed it at Harry. Dumbledore had his wand out and pointed at Malfoy before the younger man had even finished drawing his. The headmaster cast a disarming charm at Malfoy just as a black shadow dashed into the room and flew towards Him. Malfoy tried to grasp for his wand as it flew out of his hand just as Padfoot leapt. Instead of grabbing Lucius's wand, which is what he was aiming for, Padfoot's sharp teeth sunk instead into Malfoy's thumb and index finger. Malfoy yowled in pain as the large dog ripped the fingers from his hand.

Malfoy ignored his mangled hand and scrabbled on the floor in search of his wand. With a snap and a hum, a brilliant beam of emerald green light appeared before his throat. Malfoy looked up and saw two green eyes staring coldly at him. He froze. He had heard stories of what that light sword of Potter's could do, and he now felt the heat of it next to his throat. His hands were yanked behind his back by Tonks and Dawlish, and they secured him with ropes they conjured from their wands. Harry turned his lightsaber off and faced the dog who was spitting out Malfoy's fingers onto the floor.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said, turning his wand onto the dog. "Please do not make this difficult. I will guarantee your safety and a fair trial, but you must turn yourself in now."

The dog looked sheepish. He looked at the aurors who were finished securing Malfoy. They were also blocking Padfoot's escape from the room. He shifted into Sirius Black, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I don't suppose i could trouble you for a glass of water?" Sirius asked. "I'm afraid dealing with Malfoy has left a bad taste in my mouth."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, relieved this would end peacefully. "Severus?" He turned to find his Potions Master's back exiting the Hospital Wing, his hands clenched in anger.

"Well," Dumbledore said to no one, "I suppose I should have seen that one coming."

Amelia Bones reached into her desk drawer and removed a headache potion. Minerva McGonagall had just finished telling the DMLE director about the amazing and terrifying events that had transpired at Hogwarts. She found it hard to follow the story of gorgans, giant snakes, ghost students from fifty years ago, and a dead professor. What had her reaching for her potions stash was the Headmaster interrupting to add claims of Lucius Malfoy attacking a student, Sirius Black mauling Malfoy then giving himself up, and the possibility of those Troopers of Mr. Potter's off getting illegal potions from South America.

"Let me gather some more aurors," she told the Headmaster, "and we'll be right there."

"Please use the floo in my office," Dumbledore offered.

Amelia was in a quandary. When she exited the floo into Dumbledore's office, she saw Lucius Malfoy tied up and sitting in an extremely uncomfortable chair in the middle of the room. His right hand was covered in a bandage. Over his mouth was a gag which, judging by the smirk on McGonagall's face, had been applied by the Transfiguration professor. Sirius Black was also restrained, though not as securely. He was not gagged, and was talking quietly with Professor Flitwick.

"The problem isn't that I don't believe you," she said to Dumbledore, "it's that your only real witness is a house elf. I just don't think the Wizengamot is going to accept the testimony of an elf, no matter how abused he was by Malfoy."

"You won't need the elf," said a voice from the doorway. Theodore Nott Sr. had entered the office and was exchanging glares with Lucius Malfoy. "I'm here to inform the DMLE of a plot by Lucius Malfoy intended to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to life."

"That's imposible," Amelia protested. "You-Know-Who died that Halloween in 1981. No one can bring back the dead."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Nott responded. "I was only part of that group because I was under the Imperius curse. I only know that the curse on me broke that night. As for Lucius here, he told me this morning he had a plan to bring him back, and that's what all these attacks have been about."

"You're just coming forward with this information now?" Bones asked, incredulously.

"As I said, I only learned of it this morning," Nott responded. "The rest of my day was tied up in meetings of the Board of Governors. When I tried to contact you at your office I was told you were here. Given what we've learned about his activities, the other Governors and I have decided to sack Lucius from the High Inquisitor position, and from the Board entirely."

"What do you know of this plot?" Amelia asked.

"No specifics," Nott confessed, "but i can testify that he is involved with the troubles the school has been dealing with. He told me that much, and that should be enough to justify verituserum, given the seriousness of the threat."

"That would have to be approved by the Wizengamot," Amelia said.

"I can assure you you'll get the votes required," Nott said.

"Very well," Amelia agreed. "Shacklebolt, transport the prisoner to the holding cells and get him processed."

Lucius Malfoy observed the back and forth between his one time friend and the director of the DMLE with a mixture of rage and horror. He began screaming out to Dumbledore, but all that came out was a muffled mumble thanks to the gag that wouldn't come off.

"One moment, please," Dumbledore called to the aurors, who had begun dragging a struggling Lucius Malfoy out of the office. Dumbledore swished his wand and the gag flew away, dissolving into nothing. "Was there something you wished to say?"

"Dumbledore, you must stop this," Malfoy pleaded. "I can get you anything. Purse strings opened, help with legislation, name it and it's yours!"

"I cannot help you, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said.

"Not even for your Muggle Protection Act?" Malfoy asked, shrewdly.

"I would be delighted to get that law back on track," Dumbledore said, "but I'm afraid the price is simply too high."

"Am I not worthy of your redemption?" Lucius rasped. Dumbledore gave him a piercing look.

"Redemption?" Albus asked. "I suppose I am rather famous for having waxed poetic on the subject. It is a very positive force. I do believe the world would be a much better place if there were more redemption in it. I'm afraid, however, that you have vastly misunderstood."

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, confused.

"Redemption is not something that can be given," Dumbledore explained. "It is something that must be earned. Redemption is a combination of two components, both of them vitally important. Redemption is impossible without both of them working together."

"And what are those?" Lucius asked in his silky voice.

"Repentance," Dumbledore answered, "and restitution. You must examine your actions and recognize them to be wrong. You must understand the evil you have done and admit to having taken those actions willingly. You must be truly sorry for those actions and their consequences. Finally, you must do everything in your power to make things as right again as you are capable of. Often, this is a lifetime endeavour, only truly earned after your death."

"Then what is the point of it?" sneered Malfoy.

"The point, Lucius," Dumbledore answered, "is that we have already seen what you have done with a second chance when you bought one eleven years ago. I see no reason to waste time and resources offering you a third chance. If the decision had rested with me, I would have seen you in Azkaban at the end of the war. You have more than earned a stay there since." He turned to Director Bones and the aurors who were guarding Malfoy.

"Madam Bones," he said, "please remove Mr. Malfoy from my school."

A/N - I one hundred percent stole a line in this chapter from the movie Twister.