A story in which Isabella Jenkins shows great potential from a young age. When Isabella's powers first appeared they were aggressive and violent. Her mother was a muggle and was scared and unsure of what to do with Isabella's unpredictable outbursts...
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McGonagall's Office door swung open.
For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ron, Ginny, Lockhart and I stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime.
Then there was a scream.
"Ginny!" It was Molly, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.
I, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past my ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry, myself and Ron found ourselves being swept into Mrs Weasley's tight embrace.
"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly. Mrs Weasley let go of Harry and Me, I hesitated for a moment, then we walked over to the desk and Harry laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and I then put down what remained of Riddle's diary.
Then I started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour, I spoke into the rapt silence: I told them about Harry and I hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realized that we were hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how we had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told us where the last victim of the basilisk had died ( I left out the part where I had killed the spiders) how we had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom. I also told them that Tom riddle was the one responsible and how he was the Hier of Slytherin.
"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted me as I paused, "so you found out where the entrance was — breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how on earth did you all get out of there alive?"
I looked around the room for a few moments. Contemplating.
"Tom Riddle or Voldemort was the Hier of Slytherin, but he isn't the only Hier alive today," I said before holding up my hand, the green Heiress ring glinting in the candlelight.
"My God..." Dumbledore mumbled in astonishment, looking at both the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw ring that I wore on my hand. Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at me shocked.
"I had nothing to do with the attacks, I swear. But since Legally Riddle didn't claim the title of Lord of Slytherin It went to the next in line, which is me. The Jenkins bloodline interweaved with the Gaunts a few decades before we moved from England to Italy. Being the rightful Lady and Heir to Slytherin, I can control the Basilisk and It was more than happy to help us kill Riddle and let us leave alive. It appears that even Slytherin's monster wasn't too fond of him," I said scoffing.
