Danger Lurks
By the end of October, Harriet knew for sure that she wasn’t hallucinating the voice. She eventually told Ron and Hermione about it and they were just as worried as she was. Hearing voices was something problematic and troubling even in the magical world and that much became evident after they were walking through the halls late one evening.
She stopped in her tracks, internally swearing at how soaked her robes and shoes had gotten.
“What’s up with all this water?” grumbled Ron, lifting his robes above his ankles.
“Moaning Myrtle must have flooded the girls’ bathroom again,” Hermione said, grimacing at the wetness around them.
The hallway was narrow and empty, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Harriet took a step forward and gathered her robes, which were now sopping wet and heavy; cringing at the thought of it being in toilet water.
“Ki…”
“Let me….!”
Harriet froze at the sound, dropping her robes. When she stopped moving, Hermione cast her a worried glance, “Are you okay Harriet?”
“I…think I heard something, up ahead,” she said, feeling her heart speed up. She paused and listened once more, before gathering her robes and running up ahead and turning the corner.
“Wait, Harriet!” Shouted Hermione, as she grabbed Ron and ran after her.
As they turned the corner, Hermione found herself staring at Harriet’s back, puzzled as to why her friend stood frozen with her eyes glued to the wall.
“Oi mate you can’t just go running off like-” Ron’s voice trailed off as his eyes adjusted to what was in front of them.
Hermione’s insides went cold at the sight.
In front of them in the flooded corridor, hung by the tail, was Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, frozen as though dead.
“Bloody hell…” Ron whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and fear.
Harriet felt her breath coming out in shallow pants. There was something written on the wall in, wait, was that blood?
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Her brain barely registered the gruesome bloody words dripping onto the wet floor.
“W-we need to tell someone, a teacher,” Hermione stammered out, grabbing onto Harriet’s arm.
Harriet shook her head numbly in agreement, but at the same time a door at the end of the corridor opened and out came Filch, eyes bleary and squinted, looking as grim as ever.
“What are you lot doing here,” He growled looking at them suspiciously.
Then, noticing the looks on their faces, he looked behind them and his face flashed horror.
“Is that my Mrs. Norris…?” He said, disbelief etched all over his weathered face.
“You…You killed my cat Potter! I’ll have you out of here now girl, I’ll have you out for sure!” He screamed in fury, shaking his fist angrily at her.
“W-wait, no, Mister Filch, it wasn’t me I swear! We just found her here like this,” Harriet pleaded, stepping away from the wall.
Filch just gave her a nasty look, eyes red and watery, face formed into a malicious snarl. Ignoring her completely, he turned and disappeared through the door.
Shit
Harriet felt frozen, what the hell was she supposed to do in this situation? She racked her brain but nothing helpful came to mind, and it was too late to run.
“This is bad mate, of all the people to show up, we need to do something!” Ron said, fear lacing his voice.
“Not so fast Mister Weasley,” Came a soft, deadly voice from down the hall.
Harriet turned and saw Professor Snape, marching towards them, eyes hard and cold. Behind him trawled Filch who looked hideously frightening in his anger.
“Professor, I didn’t do it, I swear,” Harriet said, the emotions in her chest almost overwhelming.
“Lies Potter!” Filch snarled and raised his arm to back hand her, earning a gasp from Hermione.
But then Snape grabbed his arm, halting him.
“Fetch the Headmaster Filch and do leave disciplining the students to me,” He hissed, eyes flashing dangerously towards Filch who radiated pure hatred towards them before slinking off into the dark corridor.
“You three, explain. Now,” Snape demanded; his voice harsh and his glare cold.
“We were on our way back to the Gryffindor common room sir,” Said Ron meekly, “And we noticed the corridor was flooded, but then Harriet thought she heard something and ran ahead. When we caught up to her this is what we all saw.”
“You heard something Potter? What was it?” He hissed, his eyes suddenly tense.
She stared at the wall blankly, her brain feeling like mush, looking for the right words to describe the disembodied voice.
“Well? Spit it out girl!” He snapped, patience running thin.
“Sir I think it’s the same voice I heard after detention when the term began,” She said quietly, “But I’m not sure because there was no one around nor were the words clear.”
He stared at her, a strange look crossing his face as he furrowed his brows. Seeing his expression Ron jumped up, “I-it really wasn’t Harriet Professor, she didn’t leave our sight for longer than five seconds!”
“He’s right sir,” piped Hermione, “We were with her the entire time. She couldn’t have done it at all!”
Somewhere in the overwhelming feelings, Harriet felt a swell of gratitude resonate within her for her friends. Before she could say anything, the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall entered the corridor with Filch in tow.
Professor McGonagall gasped and clutched her chest at the sight before her and Dumbledore looked weary and distant.
“Whatever they say, they are lying! I found her here, admiring what she did Headmaster!” Shouted Filch.
“Argus, calm down,” Came Dumbledore’s steady voice as he regarded the scene. “I have no reason to believe these three students are responsible for this.”
“She killed my cat Headmaster!” Filch snarled.
“She is not dead Argus, but merely petrified. She can be cured in a few months thankfully, as our dear Professor Sprout has just started growing a batch of Mandrakes which are crucial to reversing the effects of petrification.”
He looked at them, his face now completely serious.
“Now you three, it’s important to me to know, did you see anyone or anything extraordinary when you got here?”
Harriet looked at Ron and Hermione and nodded her head no.
“No sir, I-I don’t remember, it all happened so suddenly, I don’t think we did,” she said.
Dumbledore paused, a trouble look reaching his face, before continuing, “If you do remember anything, any of you, and you wish to speak to me, please do not hesitate to reach out to me.”
He turned to the others.
“Minerva, the children have had quite a scare, if you would so kindly escort them back to their common room…”
“Right away Headmaster,” She said firmly and guided them away.
“Argus, I’ve alerted Poppy and I would advise you take Mrs. Norris up to the hospital wing immediately and she will take care of her in the meanwhile whilst we wait for the cure to be prepared.”
Lastly, he turned to Snape who stared at the children’s receding backs as they scurried away.
“And Severus, with me please...”
Snape smashed a vase in the corner of his office, frustration rising in his chest. Talking with Dumbledore was futile. The Headmaster spent most of their meeting pacing around his office, a trouble look etched across his old face. The sight was unnerving.
He knew about the chamber of course, all the teachers would’ve heard stories in their own days at Hogwarts, but they mostly chalked it up as old legends. But seeing the look on Dumbledore’s face cemented the truth for Severus. The chamber was very much real and this threat was no joke.
What could petrify something and leave absolutely no trace behind? The legends said that Slytherin kept a beast and powerful secrets hidden in his chamber, but no more was ever said on it. He racked his brain thinking of all the possibilities but he was left as bewildered and troubled as the Headmaster.
He thought of the girl, the flickering lights of the hallway dancing across her frightened face. Of course she would be frightened; she was just a child who stumbled upon a heinous scene. For once he was grateful that Granger and Weasley were there with her; he couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if she were the one found in the cat’s place.
She wasn’t safe here. None of the students were safe.
‘Enemies of the Heir, Beware’
It was obvious the message meant the Heir of Slytherin, and if Slytherin was as much of a blood purist as history made him out to be, that meant the muggleborns students would be most at risk first.
He grit his teeth.
Hopefully the girl didn’t realize what that meant. Hopefully she would keep her foolhardy Gryffindor-self safe and out of danger.
He slammed his hand against the wooden desk, feeling the splinters graze against his skin.
Fuck.
Of course she wouldn’t. She was too much like Potter, and too much like Lily. Both were too brash and bold for their own good. And Lily cared too much about those that she loved. And that had gotten her killed.
His eyes stung and he shook his head, as if somehow trying to dispel the weakness from his mind. Twelve miserable years and he’d gone too soft; he needed to get a hold of his emotions again. He glanced down at his broken desk and it was only then he saw it out of the corner of his eye. A white, pristine letter lying on the floor besides his desk, no doubt misconstrued in the chaos of his rage. He grabbed it and ripped it open immediately.
Severus,
I hope you do forgive me for attending to your correspondence at such an unsightly time, I spent far too long away from home and I have just returned. Do join us for tea tomorrow at your convenience. I shall expect you. We have much to discuss my friend.
Regards,
Narcissa Malfoy
He crumpled the letter and threw it into the fireplace watching as it burned to dust. No doubt by tomorrow word of the chamber would spread like wildfire around the school igniting a state of fear (and curiosity; much to his ire) in the students.
He scribbled a quick note on some parchment and tossed it into the fire to Dumbledore’s office.
The heavy iron gates of Malfoy Manor groaned and slowly opened as Severus approached, the gravel beneath his fireproof boots crunching like broken bones. The sprawling manor loomed before him, its tall, spired rooftops silhouetted against the silver dusk. The windows, tall and narrow, gleamed like shaded eyes watching his every move. Dark bushes, neatly trimmed and surrounded by marble statues of serpentine figures lined the grand walkway, their stone eyes gleaming coldly in the fading light, while a fountain in the centre of the courtyard bubbled quietly—its dark water catching faint flickers of torchlight.
Snape adjusted his black cloak, letting it cascade behind him as he ascended the stone steps. The door was as large and imposing as the rest of the house—heavy dark oak reinforced with iron. As he raised a pale hand to knock, the door swung open on its own accord, revealing a house-elf who bowed low, its large, trembling eyes fixed on the floor.
“Master Severus,” the creature whispered in a high, trembling voice, “Mistress Narcissa awaits you in the drawing room.”
Snape gave the elf a hard look before granting it the smallest of nods and stepped inside, the dark wood-panelled walls and the deep, emerald green drapery enveloping him in an oppressive atmosphere. Every corner of the house radiated an aura of wealth, but also a creeping coldness that sent a shiver down his spine. Glittering crystal chandeliers overhead refracted light from numerous sconces, casting long, ghostly shadows across the black-and-white marble floor.
He remembered once upon a time when he would be a frequent visitor of the manor, as a death eater, eager to impress the others who gathered to do the Dark Lord’s bidding. He used to admire the expensive tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of beasts intertwined with runes, but now he just thought the opulence of the place was suffocating.
The elf led him through the wide corridor, past an ornate staircase with balustrades carved to resemble winding snakes; their mouths open in perpetual menace. At last, they reached the drawing room.
Narcissa Malfoy sat poised on a velvet-upholstered settee, her posture perfect as ever. She turned her head slowly as Snape entered, her ice-blonde hair cascading in soft waves over one shoulder, a pin crusted with diamonds resting on her hair. Her complexion was pale, almost glowing, and her sharp blue eyes met Snape’s with an air of detached curiosity, though not unkind. Dressed in a gown of deep silver satin, embroidered with dark green vines that curled around the hem and cuffs, she looked every bit the aristocratic figure she was born to be. Her beauty, though cold and statuesque, carried with it an undeniable presence.
“Severus,” she greeted, her voice smooth and calm, like the gentle lapping of water against stone, “It has been too long my darling.”
“Indeed,” Snape replied, his tone measured, though his dark eyes flickered with the smallest hint of wariness. “It is always a…pleasure to be received at Malfoy Manor.”
Narcissa inclined her head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment of the compliment, though her expression remained as inscrutable as ever. She gestured toward a high-backed armchair across from her, upholstered in the same deep green as her gown.
Snape took the seat, his black cloak settling around him like a shadow. For a moment, there was silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Although older than him, Narcissa had been one of his friends in his teenage years, and the two had always maintained a certain level of mutual respect throughout the years.
“You’ll forgive me I hope, for being so tardy my pet, there were some loose ends to tie up in Milan and I’ve only just returned this week,” Narcissa said delicately, her hands resting lightly in her lap, fingers playing with the fine silver rings she wore. “But nevertheless, I assume you’re here to keep me abreast of what has been happening at Hogwarts?”
Snape’s lips curled downwards slightly at the corners, “I would have expected that Draco was keeping you well informed.”
“Oh he most definitely has, my darling boy never fails to keep me updated with his daily conquests. Most recently actually, he has informed me of a little lout that seems to be glued to his side. No doubt Pandora Parkinson would’ve advised her daughter to cling to my Draco,” She said, a look of disgust marring her beautiful face.
Severus almost snorted. “Well perhaps your son is too much of a gentleman to ask for space because he certainly seems to not mind her being around him,” he chided.
“Absurd Severus, Draco knows better than that and he certainly cherishes his personal space, but surely you did not come all this way to jest,” she said, a sly look crossing her face.
His face hardened, “I will not beat about the bush then, I have reason to believe that something dark is upon at Hogwarts this year, I’m sure that much you know.”
She gave an uncharacteristic sigh, lowering her eyes to the fireplace where a low fire crackled, casting a faint orange glow that danced in the darkened corners of the room. “Hogwarts has always been a safe place, and I have always intended for it to remain that way, at least, as long as Draco was there.”
She paused, eyes hardening before continuing, “However, Lucius seems to have other ideas on the affairs of the school. I believe he was involved in some confidential meetings with the board of Governors.”
She paused for a moment before continuing, “He has not shared his plans with me of course, I have no idea what the fool has planned, but should he hurt my son Severus, I’ll kill him.”
Snape’s gaze sharpened. “Unsettling things have begun to stir. The students… they are becoming affected.”
Narcissa’s expression tightened even further, her fingers momentarily stilling. “And Draco?”
“He remains… unaffected,” Snape said, though his tone betrayed a certain tension. “For now. His father has painted all dealings with the dark as a noble tirade after all,” he said, disgust lacing his voice now.
A silence stretched between them, filled only by the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of fabric as Narcissa shifted slightly.
“I cannot say I am not concerned for him,” Narcissa admitted at last, her voice low. “You understand. He is young, and Lucius…” She paused, as if reconsidering her words. “Lucius has his own ambitions. I fear they may take Draco down a path he is not prepared for.”
Before she could continue, the door opened with a soft creak and Lucius Malfoy entered, his presence immediately commanding the room. Tall, pale, and immaculate, his long platinum hair hung smoothly over his shoulders, his sharp features almost aristocratically handsome, but with a cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface. His black robes, trimmed with silver, flowed as he moved, the Malfoy family crest prominently displayed on his chest. His cane, topped with a silver serpent’s head, clicked softly against the floor as he approached.
“Severus,” he said with a smooth, practiced smile that never quite reached his cold grey eyes “I trust my wife has been keeping you entertained.”
Snape stood, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “Lucius.”
Lucius moved to stand behind Narcissa’s settee, resting a hand on her shoulder as he gazed down at Snape. “You’ve come at an interesting time, Severus. Much is changing.”
“What do you mean?” Severus asked, his gaze unwavering.
Lucius smiled, “Both at Hogwarts and beyond Severus. Great things are happening this year.”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Great things?”
Lucius’s smile widened slightly, “Dumbledore won’t know what hit him. I suppose it’s safe to say that you’ll have a new Headmaster soon my friend, one that isn’t as muggle loving as that old fool. ”
Snape stared at Lucius blankly, his insides going cold, “What are you planning Lucius?”
But Lucius said nothing further. Instead, he waved his hand dismissively.
“All in good time, my friend. All in good time.”
Snape’s eyes flickered with suspicion, but he said nothing. Whatever Lucius was planning, it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate on it but Severus would be damned if he didn’t get to the bottom of it.
The Gryffindor girls’ dormitory was warm and cosy, the red and gold of the house colours reflected in every inch of the space—from the heavy velvet curtains draped around the four-poster beds to the soft, glowing light of the flickering fire in the corner. Harriet sat cross-legged on her bed, her messy black hair falling into her eyes as she frowned over the thick spell book open in front of her. Across from her, Hermione sat at the edge of her own bed, hunched over a piece of parchment, furiously scribbling notes in her tidy handwriting.
The weeks passed by quickly and uneventfully, which was greatly appreciated by Harriet (and Hermione) who chose to get as much work as possible done in the rare moments of quietness. Ron opted out of the nightly study sessions, but he did make several visits to the library with them to do extra research for their assignments and the trio spent the days laughing and working together, enjoying each other’s presence.
In the evenings they parted and went to their respective dormitories and the girls found themselves pouring over their notes, lost in concentration, the quiet shuffling of parchment and the occasional frustrated sigh filling the air between them.
Today however, Lavender and Parvati sat on Lavender’s bed just a few feet away, their heads bent together, giggling about something or other. Lavender was brushing out her long, honey-coloured hair, and Parvati was holding up different tubes of lip gloss, examining each one with a critical eye. Their whispered conversation, full of giggles and the occasional squeal, seemed miles away from the intense atmosphere surrounding Harriet and Hermione.
Harriet glanced up briefly, watching as Lavender leaned closer to Parvati, showing her something in the latest edition of Witch Weekly. Parvati gasped in mock horror, her dark eyes wide with delight, and then burst into laughter, playfully shoving Lavender’s arm.
“I can’t believe he actually asked her out,” Lavender whispered, her voice brimming with excitement as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, she’s not even that pretty.”
“And that hair! What is that colour?” Parvati added, twirling a strand of her own sleek, dark hair between her fingers.
Hermione let out an exasperated huff, dipping her quill into her inkpot a little more forcefully than necessary. “Some of us are actually trying to study here,” she muttered under her breath, though loud enough for the other two to hear.
Parvati looked up, momentarily startled, but then gave Hermione a sweet, apologetic smile. “Sorry, Hermione. It’s just, well, you know… important things,” she said with a slight shrug before turning back to Lavender.
Harriet stifled a grin, sharing a quick look with Hermione. She could see the frustration bubbling just beneath her friend’s calm exterior, but they both knew better than to argue. This was the usual dynamic—Lavender and Parvati always had something trivial to fuss over, while Harriet and Hermione were left to fend for themselves in the real world of spells, exams, and endless responsibilities.
“I don’t understand how they can be so focused on… that,” Hermione whispered fiercely, leaning closer to Harriet, as if trying to block out the sound of Lavender and Parvati’s chatter. “We have Charms tomorrow, and they haven’t even looked at their books.”
Harriet nodded, her green eyes scanning the page in front of her but not really taking in the words. “I don’t know either. But you seemed to be the exact same way over Lockhart.”
Hermione went red and immediately sat up, “He’s a well-known author Harriet, and his books are very interesting, you know that’s the only reason why!” she explained frantically.
“Yeah sure, whatever you say ‘Mione,” Harriet said cheekily, a smile now crossing her face.
There was a knock on their dorm room door.
She glanced over at Parvati, to see if she’d get it but she was now pasting a coat of shiny lip gloss onto her lips, puckering them as she admired herself in a small mirror.
Lavender laughed softly, tapping Parvati’s arm. “You look amazing! Maybe we’ll see Seamus down at the common room later.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, her grip on her quill loosening. “Honestly.”
She unfolded her legs and got off the bed to open the door. It turned out to be Ginny who looked dazed and tired. Harriet noticed that she also looked very pale and her eyes were dark, as if she hadn’t been sleeping. On top of all of that, her usually well groomed hair was in a mess and there were patches knotted in random places.
“Ginny, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Oh…sorry,” Ginny said, a distant look on her face.
She looked… odd. Not at all like the radiant, yet shy girl Harriet spend her last bits of holidays with. Her face was blank, as if she wasn’t there with them at all, and her skin had a sickly grey sheen to it.
“Ginny?” Hermione said gently, “Are you okay? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”
“I…just need to sleep I think, I just feel…bad,” she said wearily.
“Bad? Bad in what way?” Harriet asked.
“Like cold and tired…all the time,” said the smaller girl.
Harriet looked at Hermione whose brows were furrowed. That was odd. The castle was cold yes, but there was ample warmth in the common rooms even though it was fall. Their dormitory’s fire was ablaze right now and the girls had thrown off their blankets while studying because it was so warm. They brought Ginny over to the fire and Harriet tried her best to swaddled her in blankets.
“Is everything okay with your classes Ginny? Has anyone been unkind to you?” Hermione asked softly.
“No,” She said. “I enjoy my classes you know, and my classmates are nice. Sometimes I just feel like I forget things…kind of. Things have just been weird lately you know?”
“Weird? Do you mean like Mrs. Norris?” Harriet asked, confused.
Ginny went still.
“Mrs. Norris?” She said, the distant look on her face again. Then her eyes opened wide, and she looked horrified. Somehow she looked even paler; the freckles on her skin a stark contrast in the low light.
She started to shake, “I….I have to go,” she whispered and stood up, dropping the blankets to the floor. Hermione and Harriet cast each other puzzled looks but before they could say anything, Ginny dashed out of the room, slamming the door.
“Merlin! Gently please!” Lavender shouted out, but it was too late, Ginny was gone.
Harriet looked at Hermione whose eyes had gone wide.
“What…what was up with her?”
“I have no idea.”
That night Harriet sat on the edge of her four-poster bed, her mind racing. The threat of the Chamber of Secrets had been gnawing at her for days now, and the fear seemed to be affecting other students as well, Ginny included.
There were hushed whispers around the common room of a monster that was kept by Slytherin and the teachers also seemed to be wary of the threat, since a curfew had been placed and students were banned from being out of their common room after hours. Since they found Mrs. Norris petrified and the rumours began, everyone seemed to be on edge. Even Snape, who usually ignored her for the most part, was taking it upon himself to show up and bark at her for walking down empty corridors, or for showing up two minutes late to his classes.
The Slytherins thought it was all a lark of course and Draco Malfoy and his gang were more sickening than before, using every opportunity to pick a fight.
“Potter, I heard you stumbled upon a little surprise recently, pity they didn’t get you instead.”
“Sod off Malfoy you great git,” Said Ron, reaching into his robes.
“Shut up Weasley! How dare you talk to me?” Malfoy snarled, glaring at him.
“Come on Ronald, forget it, you’re better than him,” Hermione, looking at Draco with disgust.
He sneered.
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be next mudblood,” he taunted viciously, cold eyes locked on Hermione. His gang laughed and hooted, patting him on his back like a champion.
Hermione glared at him and turned away but Ron swore and pulled his wand out.
“Eat slugs Malfoy!” Ron shouted, thrusting his wand forward.
There was a flash of red and Ron was thrown back against the wall before he slid onto the floor.
“Ron!” Harriet and Hermione ran to him and helped him sit up.
“Ron are you okay?” Asked Hermione, concern lacing her voice.
Ron looked at them and Harriet noticed that his skin turned green. His skin had a sickly sheen to it and was glazed with sweat. He opened his mouth and immediately threw up a huge slug. Behind her Malfoy and his gang laughed and were pointing at him in glee.
“Ewwww, disgusting Weasley! Serves you right!” Squealed Pansy Parkinson with a look of cruel joy her face.
Ron threw up another slug and groaned.
“C’mon Mione, help me with him, let’s get him to Madam Pomfrey,” Said Harriet, glaring daggers at Malfoy who only laughed in return.
At the hospital wing Pomfrey scolded Ron and gave him a potion to drink that stopped the slugs but he still had to spend the night in the hospital wing. The girls stayed with him until Pomfrey sent them away and it was with somber hearts they climbed into bed that night.
Harriet knew she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit back and wait for the danger to reveal itself. She had to prepare somehow. With her green eyes narrowed in determination, she made her decision. She waited until she heard the gentle snores from the beds next to her and pulled her curtains open.
Slipping her father’s Invisibility Cloak from her trunk, she wrapped it around herself, feeling the familiar weight settle over her shoulders. The cloak shimmered for a moment, and then her body vanished, completely hidden from sight. She quietly made her way down to the common room, and after ensuring that it was empty, she stuck her head out of the portrait. She paused for a bit and looked around, making sure no one was lurking in the halls, then made her way silently down the stone stairs, through the common room, and out of the portrait hole.
The corridors were eerily quiet, the dim torchlight barely enough to cast more than a weak glow on the walls. Harriet moved cautiously, her steps quiet as a mouse, as she made her way toward the library. Her plan was to sneak down to the vast collection of books, and try to learn as much offensive and defensive spells as possible. She was desperate to learn anything that could help her defend herself and her friends from Slytherin’s monster.
In the silent, musty library, she slipped between the shelves, lined with ancient spell books, her eyes scanning the spines for anything that could help. Finally, after a while, she found a small, dusty volume tucked away in a dark corner titled Advanced Defensive Spells for the Adept Witch. Her pulse quickened as she grabbed it and retreated to a discreet spot near the back of the library, where she could read in peace, unseen.
She flipped through the pages, her eyes devouring the descriptions of spells—some too advanced, but others within her reach. She had always been good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and now it was time to put that knowledge to use. She would need to practice. A lot. Pulling out a quill and roll of parchment from her pockets, she began furiously scribbling down the spells from the book in front of her.
The next day, after classes, she found an old unused classroom tucked away in the castle’s labyrinthine corridors. It was far enough from the main classrooms that no one ever wandered by and almost as if granting her wish, it was filled with old furniture and debris that she could practice on without fear of destroying precious items.
After making sure that the coast was clear and there was no one around, she slunk into the classroom and drew her wand, her heart thudding with a mixture of nerves and determination. She had chosen a few spells from the book she had studied the night before, and now it was time to see if she could master them.
The first spell was Protego, the Shield Charm, which she had learned last year but hadn’t used in a while since magic was prohibited out of school. Raising her wand, she flicked it in a tight motion, her voice calm and clear. “Protego!”
A shimmering barrier of light erupted in front of her, stronger than she had ever managed before. She smiled faintly, feeling a surge of satisfaction; she didn’t forget it after all. This spell was crucial—it could protect her against a variety of magical attacks. But she needed more than defense.
The next spell was Expelliarmus, the Disarming Charm. It was deceptively simple but immensely useful in a duel. Harriet placed a few discarded books on a chair at the front of the classroom, imagining it was a weapon being held by an enemy. Imitating the movement she saw in the book last night, she slashed her own wand sharply and exclaimed. “Expelliarmus!”
An invisible force shot from the tip of her wand, knocking the pile of books off the chair. Harriet practiced it several times, sometimes missing her mark but, eventually managing to cast it in a straight line after some time.
She spent the next few hours practicing, repeating the spells over and over until her wrist ached and her voice was hoarse. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
Later that night, under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak once again, Harriet returned to the library. There was always more to learn—new spells, new defenses. She found herself drawn to another book, this one older and more worn than the others. She opened it cautiously, flipping through its fragile pages until she landed on a page filled with offensive spells. She smiled to herself. Perfect.
The abandoned classroom was silent; the only sound the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath Harriet’s feet as she paced in front of an old, worn desk. Dust motes danced in the afternoon light that filtered through the high, arched windows. It was becoming a bit difficult to evade Hermione’s questions about where she was disappearing off too after classes, but she somehow always managed to come up with a response. She didn’t want to explain to her what she was doing in case Hermione got worried and tried to change her mind. Harriet hated lying to her friends but she hated living in fear even more. She knew herself and she knew that this was the only way to get some peace of mind.
Today, however, she wasn’t just practicing defensive spells—she had moved on to more forceful magic, the kind that could be used in battle if it came to that. Drawing her wand, she took a deep breath and visualized what she had learned from her late-night reading sessions in the library. She had mastered Protego and Expelliarmus but now it was time to test more powerful spells.
The first one she had her mind set on was Bombarda. It was a charm that was strong, forceful, and capable of breaking through walls and other barriers. It would be perfect if she needed to escape a tight spot or destroy something standing in her way. She took a steadying breath and faced an old, dilapidated wardrobe standing in the corner of the room. Raising her wand, she pointed it directly at the target and spoke clearly, her voice firm. “Bombarda!”
A deafening crack echoed through the classroom as a violent explosion burst from the tip of her wand. The wardrobe shuddered under the impact, splintering into jagged pieces as dust and debris scattered across the floor. Harriet blinked, stunned for a moment by the sheer power of the spell. She hadn’t expected it to work so well. Or be that loud. She stuck her head out the door to make sure no one heard but to her delight the corridor was empty and devoid of life.
After another try at casting, her heart raced, adrenaline flooding her veins. That could come in handy, she thought, taking note of the destructive potential of Bombarda.
But she wasn’t finished yet.
Next was Confringo, the Blasting Curse. According to the book, this spell was even more volatile than Bombarda, causing whatever it hit to explode with force. It wasn’t a spell to be used lightly, but Harriet wanted to have it in her arsenal. She needed every advantage she could get.
She turned to a battered old chair at the far end of the room, its legs crooked and worn. Steadying her grip on her wand, Harriet flicked it sharply. “Confringo!”
The result was immediate. A ball of fiery energy shot from the tip of her wand and collided with the chair, which erupted in a burst of flames and debris. Harriet shielded her face as shards of wood and fabric flew past her. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the chair but smouldering remnants scattered across the floor.
Harriet lowered her wand, her eyes wide. Confringo was powerful—maybe even more powerful than she had expected. She couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. This was the kind of magic she needed to protect herself and her friends if the worst came to pass.
Harriet panted and took deep breaths in as she refocused her aim. It was late—much later than she intended—but she had grown accustomed to the quiet solitude of the castle at night. After several days of researching spells, she stopped visiting the library at night and instead started coming to the abandoned classroom. Once she casted a silencing spell that she learnt, she would stay for hours practicing spells without anyone interrupting her.
She stood in the centre of the room, her wand raised, beads of sweat forming on her brow. She had just finished casting Confringo on a stack of old, broken desks she had set up as targets. The curse missed its mark, hitting the desks and they erupted into a shower of splinters and debris, the force of the explosion rattling the windows. Harriet’s pulse quickened. She needed to get better. Her spells were still missing its intended targets from a distance and that was a problem. Even though her movements were sharper, she lacked precision. She still had a long way to go, and that made her anxious.
Just as she lowered her wand to prepare for another attempt, a voice—low and furious—cut through the silence.
“What do you think you’re doing, Miss Potter?”
Harriet spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Standing in the doorway, his dark robes shrouded around him, was Professor Snape. His black eyes glittered with barely contained fury, his face pale contorted in cold anger. The room seemed to grow colder in his presence, and Harriet felt her stomach drop.
“Out of bed, practicing dangerous magic when there’s a monster loose in the school?” Snape’s voice was a quiet, deadly hiss as he strode toward her, his steps echoing ominously in the empty room. “Are you mad, Potter?”
Harriet opened her mouth to explain, but Snape didn’t give her a chance. His face twisted in rage, and he pointed sharply toward the destroyed pile of desks.
“I ought to drag you straight to Dumbledore’s office for this recklessness!” he snapped, his voice rising as he towered over her. “Of all the foolish, idiotic things you could be doing, you’re here—alone—casting Confringo like it’s some kind of game?”
Harriet flinched but forced herself to stand her ground. Her heart was racing, and her brow was laced with sweat, but she wasn’t about to let fear or embarrassment stop her now. She knew why she was here, and it wasn’t just because of curiosity or thrill-seeking.
“I’m afraid,” she blurted out, her voice louder than she intended.
He stared at her with a stunned look on his face, as if not expecting that.
“I’m afraid, Professor,” She continued, “There’s something in the castle—something dangerous—and I don’t want to be helpless if it comes for me. Or for Hermione. Or for anyone else I care about.”
Snape froze at that, his eyes narrowing, his thin lips pressed into a hard line. For a moment, there was only the crackling of the remaining debris from her spell between them.
“I just want to be able to defend myself,” Harriet added, her voice quieter now, though still full of determination. “If this thing—this monster—attacks, I need to be ready. I can’t sit back and wait to be rescued.”
Snape’s expression didn’t soften, but something flickered in his eyes—something Harriet couldn’t quite place. He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous again, but this time with a different edge. “You think playing with powerful offensive spells is going to save you? You think reckless practice like this will be enough to protect you when you’ve no idea what you’re up against?”
“I’m trying,” Harriet said, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to be caught off guard.”
Snape stared at her for a long, tense moment, his dark eyes boring into hers. For a second, Harriet thought he might actually drag her to Dumbledore after all. But then, to her surprise, he slowly lowered his voice.
“Confringo,” he said, his tone biting, but quieter now, “is not a spell to be used lightly. If you’re going to throw yourself into this dangerous nonsense, at least do it properly.”
Harriet blinked in shock, hardly believing what she was hearing. “You—you’re going to help me?”
Snape’s face contorted slightly, his displeasure evident, but he took a step back, giving her room. “I don’t approve of this… foolishness,” he muttered, his voice thick with disdain. “But you are more likely to get yourself killed if you continue like this.”
He lifted his wand, flicking it sharply as if testing the air. “Again. Show me how you cast Confringo.”
Harriet hesitated for a moment before nodding, raising her wand once more. She squared her stance, pointed her wand at another pile of broken chairs, and focused. “Confringo!”
The curse erupted from her wand, sending the pile flying into the air haphazardly with a deafening explosion. Splinters and dust rained down, blinding her and she winced slightly at the force of it.
Snape’s lips curled into a thin, unimpressed sneer. “Your casting is too loose,” he said coldly. “You’re using too much force for something so imprecise. Power is useless without control, Miss Potter.”
He stepped forward, standing next to her now, and gestured with his wand. “Watch.”
With a simple, controlled flick, Snape aimed his wand at another pile of debris. “Confringo.”
The spell was sharp and precise, the explosion far more contained, the debris scattering only within a limited radius. Harriet blinked in amazement at how effortless it looked.
“Less force, more precision,” Snape said, his voice clipped. “Focus on your target—don’t let your emotions drive your magic. Power comes from control, not reckless energy.”
Harriet nodded, biting her lip as she raised her wand again. She tried to mimic his movements—precise, sharp, and controlled. “Confringo!”
This time, the spell was more contained, the blast smaller, but more focused. The debris was instantly destroyed, the remnants neatly falling around the area. Harriet smiled slightly, feeling a sense of accomplishment.
“Better,” Snape muttered, though there was no warmth in his voice. “But don’t mistake this for encouragement, Miss Potter. This reckless behaviour ends now. You are not to practice like this again—alone, at night, when there’s a very real danger in this castle.”
“I understand,” Harriet said, still a little breathless from the spell.
Snape narrowed his eyes at her, clearly unconvinced. “Do you?” he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. “I’ll escort you back to your common room. And if I find you sneaking around after curfew again…”
Harriet nodded quickly. “I won’t.”
“Good,” Snape said, his voice soft and dangerous. He motioned for her to follow him, and they left the classroom in silence.
As they walked through the dark corridors, Harriet felt a strange mix of relief and something else—a faint sense of gratitude. Snape had helped her. He hadn’t been kind, exactly, but he hadn’t left her to face the dangers alone, either.
When they reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and she climbed through the portrait hole, Snape stopped and looked at her, his expression still severe.
“From now on, if you feel the need to practice, do so either in the classroom or in the courtyard—during the day,” he said sharply. “If I catch you prowling around the castle at night again, I won’t be as lenient.”
Harriet nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Professor.”
Snape’s lip curled slightly, but he turned on his heel and swept away, his robes billowing behind him.
“You did WHAT?” Yelled Ron, his voice echoing loudly in the corridor, causing other students to look at him strangely.
They were on their way to the quidditch pitch for the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor when she told them what happened during her private training sessions.
“Shhh Ron keep it down,” Harriet said, ducking her head and dragging him along, away from the stares.
She pushed her hair back out of her face and pulled on her gloves, trying her best to avoid her friends’ incredulous stares.
“Ronald’s right Harriet, I was so worried when you’d been disappearing like that, what made you think to even do something so dangerous?” Hermione chided, sounding hurt.
“Guys, c’mon it’s not that big of a deal. Why are you guys even so angry? I was worried about the monster okay and I reckoned it wouldn’t hurt to get some practice in you know?” Harriet explained, suddenly feeling very silly.
“I mean I understand wanting to be prepared. But you could’ve been attacked! At the least you could’ve told us so we’d know that something happened if you didn’t come back. It’s not safe, and honestly I agree with Professor Snape, it was foolish,” Said Hermione.
“Blimey mate, out of all the people to catch you too. I’m surprise he didn’t dock one thousand points and send you to Dumbledore! That’s the most shocking thing to me,” Ron said, disbelief coating his voice.
Harriet didn’t say anything, musing to herself in her head.
“Either way Harriet, it’s a miracle you got out of this situation okay,” Said Hermione, “If you want to practice that much, do it with us. I won’t try to discourage you since this is something you feel so strongly about, but we can practice some light spell work in the common room and I could teach you some offensive spells I’ve been studying.”
Harriet grinned and pounced on her friend.
“This is why I love you Hermione,” She said, smothering her with a hug.
Hermione’s face was serious for a moment before she broke out into a smile.
“Honestly Harri, we spoil you too much,” chuckled Ron, shaking his head incredulously.
Harriet grinned cheekily, feeling grateful and knowing that in that moment, her best friends had forgiven her.
The Nimbus 2000 zoomed through the air, turning sharply when Harriet pulled to the right. The damn bludger had been chasing her for a while now and wasn’t letting up at all. To make things worse, Malfoy made it his business to stick to her tail like a leech. She made another sharp turn, narrowly avoiding the bludger as it slammed through the base of the stands, sending shattered wood and splinters everywhere. Catching a glimpse of gold to the side of her eyes, she changed course and headed towards the snitch. Malfoy was still hot on her trail, increasing his speed when he eventually spotted it.
Harriet flew upwards into the clouds, her pores rising as the temperature decreased and the air became chilly. Once she was high enough to deflect Malfoy, she swooped back downwards at a rapid pace and then aligned herself with the pitch, arm extended and reaching out for the snitch. She felt her heart jump with joy at the thought of catching it when suddenly the wretched bludger came back out of nowhere and slammed into her left arm. She cried out, wincing at the sharp, stinging pain that immediately ran through her. With watery eyes she saw the flash of gold right in front of her and gritting her teeth, she reached out for the snitch with her other hand, letting go of her broom. Once she felt her hand wrap around the small round golden ball, she let body drop to the ground in exhaustion, the soft muddy floor cushioning the brunt of the fall.
She raised the snitch in the air and from the ground she heard the stadium erupt into cheers, a mix of emotions coursing through her as she tried to drag herself into a seated position. Her arm was definitely broken, as indicated by the pain lancing throughout her entire body, causing her eyes to prickle.
“Now, now, I’ll heal that up for you my dear,” she heard a cheery voice say.
Dread filled her.
“No, anyone but you,” she grit out through the pain, horror most definitely reflecting on her face.
Lockhart laughed gesturing to the students who now formed around them.
“Don’t mind her everyone, poor girl, she’s clearly not in her right mind,” he chuckled.
He pulled out his wand and aimed it at her arm, and Harriet shut her eyes, dreading for the worst.
Suddenly she heard a thump and opened her eyes to find Lockhart on the ground, mud smeared across his face and clothes and a furious looking Snape and McGonagall in front of her.
“What she needs is the hospital wing. Now,” Snape hissed, completely ignoring Lockhart who was looking at him in disbelief.
In the chaos, something wonderful happened and there was a really nice feeling in her arm as the pain faded and she felt her face press against something warm.
The last thing she remembered was Snape’s face looking down on her, his expression becoming blurred and voice muted, before promptly passing out.
Harriet awoke in a dark room, her head pounding and her arm sore and stiff. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was in the hospital wing and it was night time. She looked down to her feet and was startled to see Dobby standing on her bed, his big bright eyes staring at her.
“Harriet Potter Miss! You is not listening to Dobby!” he wailed, his eyes welling up in tears.
“Dobby, what are you doing here?” she whispered, grabbing her glasses and putting them on.
The elf looked at her imploringly, eyes wide and frightened.
“Dobby thought his bludger would be enough to make-”
“Your bludger? You did this? You tried to kill me!” She hissed, anger flaring up in her.
“Not kill you Miss, never kill you! Dobby wants to save you! Dobby only wanted Harriet Potter hurt enough to be sent home”
The house elf stilled for a moment before shaking violently.
“Dobby is going against his master being here to warn Miss Harriet Potter about the Chamber of Secrets! Dobby thought the barrier for the train would stop Miss Harriet Potter from coming back but Miss Harriet Potter is not listening! Dobby is disobeying his family trying to save Harriet Potter. Dobby is a bad house elf, bad Dobby, bad!” Cried the elf as he grabbed onto the metal bed post and began banging his head against it.
Harriet snatched the elf by his ratty pillow case and held him up in the air.
“Stop it Dobby, stop hurting yourself! What was it you were saying about the Chamber of Secrets?”
“Harriet Potter must not stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more-” The elf sniffed out, grabbing his bat like ears and squeezing them.
“It’s been opened before? Who opened it last time?” She asked frantically.
“Dobby cannot say miss. Dobby only wants Harriet Potter safe! Dobby remembers well what happened then, miss. Dobby knows the terrible things that are happening again now.”
“You’ve got to tell me! Who’s opened it now?” she said, her heart racing.
“Dobby cannot say! Dobby cannot say!” the elf cried out looking horrified.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps outside the door and the low murmurs of voices. Dobby looked at her with a frightened face.
“Dobby must go!”
And with a snap he disappeared.
Harriet dropped back down and pulled the sheets over her shoulders as the doors burst open.
“Bring him here Minerva, gently now,”
“Another attack Poppy. The second one…”
“He was holding a camera…” Came Dumbledore’s voice, sounding grave.
“What does this mean Albus?” said Professor McGonagall, her voice strained with worry.
“It means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open once more…”
“But Albus, surely that’s impossible…who?”
“The question is not who, but rather how?” he said, the room falling into silence.
Harriet felt the ugly head of fear rearing itself in her once more. As soon as they left she flung herself off the bed and ran to Collin’s side. The little Gryffindor was frozen solid, petrified, with his camera glued to his hands above his face. She felt her heart sink. He didn’t deserve this. He was just a child who liked taking pictures and making friends, it was too cruel. Her eyes grew blurry and before she realized it, she was shaking, the reality hitting her.
Collin was a muggle born.
How many more students would be attacked?
She crawled back into bed and pulled the sheets over her head, willing herself to fall asleep. She felt awful. Tomorrow she would let Ron and Hermione know what took place tonight and hopefully they could come up with a plan to keep safe. She couldn’t live with this fear and suddenly her friends’ anger about her putting herself in danger was rationalized.
She realized that one of the worst feelings in this world was seeing people that you care about get hurt.