The Last Marauders: Year Two

Halloween quickly arrived to Ryan’s delight; she’d aced both her History of Magic essay and the new spell McGonagall was teaching them. As she sprinted toward the dungeons for her favorite class, she slowed to a walk as she caught up with her Gryffindor friends, falling in step with Harry. She took her seat at her brewing table with Daphne, eager to get started on the Fire Protection Potion they would be brewing. “Instructions are on the board. I will be testing potions at random today.” He warned, eyes on Neville.
Ryan set up her station and began to brew the potion. Daphne was beside her, muttering swears as her potion failed to turn to the right shade of blue. Ryan glanced around and, seeing Snape occupied with Malfoy and his ‘perfect’ potion, she quickly helped Daphne fix hers. “Add more of the mushrooms and then make sure to stir clockwise.” She whispered.
“Five points from Slytherin. Cheating is not tolerated, Black.” Snape said without turning around.
“I was helping Daphne fix her potion.” Ryan argued, stirring her potion after adding salamander blood to it. “I wasn’t cheating.”
“Ten points then. Keep talking and it’ll be a detention.”
“You can’t give me a detention for cheating when I wasn’t cheating!”
“I can and I will.” He whirled around, black eyes flashing with hate. “Six o’clock tonight. No feast for you.”
She opened her mouth to argue again but Daphne kicked her under the table, shaking her head. Ryan turned her attention back to her potion, seething. When it turned a bright red, she bottled some up and crossed her arms, staring at her head of house. When everyone’s potions were finished, he grabbed Daphne’s bottle and Harry’s bottle. “Let’s hope this works.” He said with a twisted smile. “Black, you’re up.”
He handed her Daphne’s and she swallowed all of it, staring at him. It was an instant, icy rush through her system. “Incendio.” Snape pointed his wand at her. She could feel flames tickling her but they weren’t burning.
He did the same thing with Ron and Harry’s potion, and to Ryan’s surprise, the only effect was Ron’s arms looked a bit more red. Snape glowered at both of them until class was over.
“What a load of rubbish.” She grumbled as soon as they were out of the classroom. “I’ve literally only got time to put my books up.”
“I’ll bring you a plate from the feast.” Pansy Parkinson, another second-year Slytherin, offered. “That was so unfair of Professor Snape.”
“Yeah, you were only helping me.” Daphne shook her head. “I wonder why he hates you.”
“Who knows?” Ryan sighed. “Thanks, guys. Have fun.”
She returned to the dungeons, still upset, but determined to not get into any more trouble. As soon as Snape saw her, he scowled. “You’re cleaning the entire classroom. No magic.” She nodded, starting with the cauldrons. “Just like your poor excuse of a father.” He muttered, still glaring at her.
Her jaw tightened but she said nothing, ignoring him. “Ah, Severus, the feast is starting.” She heard Dumbledore’s soft voice from the doorway. “I think you can let Miss Black out of detention early, can’t you?”
“She was cheating.”
“I was not.” Ryan huffed. “I was just helping Daphne fix her potion and it worked, didn’t it?”
Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to pierce through her and he gave her a soft smile. “In that case, Severus, helping a housemate shouldn’t be punished. Come along. Let’s all go and enjoy the wonderful holiday.”
Snape’s lip curled as he shot her a dirty look. She knew this wasn’t over. She trudged down to her empty dorm to clean up before she went to eat. Her stomach was growling as she headed to the Great Hall. “Oh, hi Harry.” She smiled, happy to see them. “On your way to the feast too?”
“Yes.” He smiled back. “Nick’s deathday party was-” He stopped, looking all around.
“Harry, what’re you-” Hermione asked.
“It’s that voice again. Shut up for a minute.” He said quickly. “Listen, can’t you hear it?”
Just as Ron was backing away from Harry, Elijah ran down the hall, a frantic look in his eyes. “Harry.”
“I know.” The boys stood in the middle of the empty hallway, both looking around. “Where’s it coming from?”
“I dunno.” Elijah panted, his eyes wide. “Is this a trick?”
“Wait, this way!” Harry started running toward the Great Hall, Elijah on his tail.
Ron, Hermione, and Ryan all looked at each other and followed the two boys. The babble from the feast was almost deafening to Ryan, and she heard Elijah up ahead. “-can’t hear it, Harry.”
“Wait, hang on.” Harry had his ear pressed to the stone wall. “Come on.” He started up to the first floor.
“Harry, what are we doing?” Ryan called, her stomach’s rumbling getting louder.
“Hush!” Elijah answered, right beside Harry. “It’s coming from this floor.”
“It’s going to kill someone!” Harry rushed forward.
They all followed, Ron and Ryan grumbling at the lack of food. No one said anything until they turned the last corner in the deserted hallway. “Harry, come on, I’m starving.” Ron whined. “I couldn’t hear anything-”
“Look!” Ryan pointed ahead of them. “What’s that?”
Something shined in the torchlight along the hall. Letters about a foot high were painted on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the lights. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.
Ryan pushed forward, slipping on a puddle of water she hadn’t noticed. Harry, right behind her, quickly caught her. “Bloody hell. Ms. Norris.” She whispered, staring at the stiff cat hanging below the words.
“We should get out of here.” Ron suddenly said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the five students.
“Shouldn’t we try and help-” Harry started awkwardly, eyes still on the cat’s wide eyes.
“Trust me, Harry, we don’t want to be found here.” Ron insisted, yanking Harry away from the cat.
Harry, in turn, pulled Ryan back as well, and Elijah and Harry exchanged a look. “Come on.” Elijah said, turning to leave.
But it was too late. Footsteps coming from the stairs meant the feast was over, and they had nowhere to hide. Ron, Hermione, and Ryan all formed a block in between Harry and Elijah, as the students’ voices grew closer and louder, slowly quieting as they came upon the gruesome scene themselves.
“Enemies of the heir, beware? You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” Malfoy’s voice sounded gleeful as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd, almost laughing.
“What’s going on here?” Filch’s rough, high pitched voice suddenly sounded through the hall and the students parted, making a path for the cranky caretaker. “What- my cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?!” He shrieked, veins bulging out. “You!” He pointed at Harry, shaking. “You killed my cat! I’ll kill you!” He started toward Harry, and Ron and Ryan instinctively moved to block their friend from the crazed Filch.
“Argus!” Once again that night, Dumbledore was there to the rescue, followed by almost all the teachers. He swept past them, carefully getting the cat down. “Come with me, Argus. You five, as well.” He nodded toward the students.
“Headmaster, my office is closest, just upstairs.” Lockhart spoke up, voice cheery.
Ryan groaned inwardly. “Thank you, Gilderoy.” Dumbledore inclined his head in thanks and headed to the professor’s office.
They all followed, Harry and Elijah wearing matching expressions. Lockhart, McGonagall, and Snape also followed, and Ryan’s heart sank when she noticed her head of house.
The Lockhart portraits on the wall scurried out of sight as their real life counterpart lit the candles, stepping back as Dumbledore gently laid the stiff cat onto his desk. The Gryffindor trio sank into the chairs as Elijah and Ryan stood behind. Her fingers were gripping her wand tightly as they waited. McGonagall was beside Dumbledore, also inspecting the cat. Snape was behind them, an odd expression on his face, and Filch was sitting in the chair behind the desk, sobbing. Lockhart hovered nearby, muttering loudly. “It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture — I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her. . . .”
Filch sobbed louder, cutting the professor off and Ryan risked a glance at Elijah, wearing a scowl at Lockhart’s comments. She rolled her eyes at her uncle’s dramatics. “. . . I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou,” Lockhart continued, “a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once. . . .”
“She’s not dead, Argus.” Dumbledore spoke over Lockhart after poking Mrs. Norris and muttering under his breath. “She has been Petrified, although I can’t say how-”
“Ask him! He’s done it!” Filch shrieked again, pointing at Harry.
“No second year could have done it. This is advanced dark magic-” Dumbledore said firmly.
“He did it!” Filch protested, his face turning red. “He knows I’m a-a Squib!” He cried.
Ryan snorted, turning it into a cough. “I never touched that cat!” Harry spat. “And I don’t even know what a Squib is-”