A New Friend and a New Mystery
The letter that Harry received the next morning was barely enough to break through the trepidation he had felt the day before.
Gerald’s spiky lettering, the words themselves dripping with a professional amusement only a Slytherin lawyer could manage.
A ban on Lockhart writing anything having to do with Harry unless through a legal contract.
An official apology by the man, printed in every newspaper that thought it was news. (Seeing as it was drama between two of the magical country’s most famous people, needless to say, it was in pretty much every newspaper on the British Isles, and even a few beyond.)
A hefty fine (an amount that would make the Weasleys blanch) transferred to Harry’s personal account to be invested by Griphook in both muggle and magical avenues.
A promise by Amelia Bones that if any negative consequences fall on Harry in Lockhart’s class or in Hogwarts in general, she would bypass the Headmaster himself to bring Lockhart in for questioning, backed by the entire Board of Governors, particularly one Lucius Malfoy.
Harry actually had a smile the next day, even with the echo of the strange voice ringing in his head, even feeling like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.
Lockhart, however, was missing from meals, and Lavender Brown’s older sister had apparently found out that he hadn’t returned to the castle after the trial, and instead was holed up in his lawyer’s office until late Sunday night.
The half of the school that didn’t care for Lockhart was thrilled.
The other half was scandalized, and Harry ended up hiding in the Nook to avoid answering the hundreds of questions he had received when the Daily Prophet was delivered that morning.
Instead, Tweak provided him with snacks, and his friends trooped back up to set up a study session there for the day.
Hermione was on her way when a voice stopped her in the middle of the corridor.
“Oi, Hermione.”
She turned to see Dean Thomas breaking away from a resigned Finnegan to jog her way.
“Was hoping to catch you before you headed off for the night.”
“Hello, Dean. How’re things? We missed you at First Blood Club this past week.”
“Yeah, sorry. Hadrian’s tasked me with getting Colin Creevey into sorts, and he had an argument with a first year Claw that I stepped in to calm them down, and next thing I know I’ve missed the meeting.”
“No worries, it wasn’t even with the first years. Honestly, it’s more like a research club for us all anymore.”
Dean grinned. “Lucky you.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Oh, cor, right. You know Sir Nick, yeah?”
“The Gryffindor house ghost? Sure?”
“Well, he’s celebrating his death day or something, Halloween night. I know you lot were planning on doing a Samhain ritual, but I thought I’d pass along his offer for some students to visit the party. I know Bulstrode would kill for an invite, and I thought you might enjoy the chance to ask a bunch of history questions to some ghosts who were actually there.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Dean, you’re perfect, thank you. Pass along that I’ll be there, and will probably drag the boys along. And I’ll let Millie know, but I think she’s going home for Samhain night.”
He laughed as she literally bounced down the corridor, towards a suddenly concerned Ron and Ginny.
That afternoon, most of the group was studying in the Nook when Harry finally threw his homework down on the floor.
“I’m bored, and if I read one more word of Lockhart’s dribble, I will lose my mind. I shouldn’t have to even think about him this weekend after the trial.”
Everyone murmured agreements, even as they kept reading.
Only Ron, loyal to a fault, put down his own work. “What are you thinking of doing, then?”
Harry sighed, stretching in his chair. “Something fun, something physical. We’ve been sitting here since lunch, and I haven’t had practice in days because Marcus can’t get clearance for the field until next week.”
“You want to go for a walk in the Forest or something?”
He looked towards the window, the glass blurry from the downpour falling outside. “No, not really.” Harry scanned the room, noting Justin’s sigh as he flipped a page of his potions text. “Hey, Justin.”
The Hufflepuff looked up with a bleary look as Harry stood, walking towards him slowly. As soon as he noticed the too-innocent look on Harry’s face, he closed his book and watched him warily. “Yes?”
Harry sprang forward, tapping Justin on the forehead. “Tag, you’re it!” He moved a few feet away and watched the other boy for a reaction.
It took a few seconds for Justin to blink into awareness, but when he looked back at Harry, it was with a grin. “Oh, you’re on.” He jumped up, his things flying everywhere, and launched himself at Harry with an outstretched hand.
Harry dodged out of the way by stepping up onto the couch, in between Susan and Ginny, who both were watching with confused looks. Harry vaulted over the back just as Justin tapped Ron’s shoulder instead.
“Ron, you’re it!” Harry called, nudging Hermione. “C’mon, Mione, let’s take a break. Aren’t you the one always saying we need to remember we’re just kids?”
She sighed as she snapped her notebook closed. “We’re kids with homework, Hadrian James.” But she still squealed and moved out of the way when Ron came towards them.
Justin was quickly explaining the rules of the game to everyone else in the room. “It’s literally touch and go. If you’re it, you tap another player and then they’re it. Simple and a good way to get blood flowing again, don’t you think?”
Ginny, who was listening to Justin with a widening smile, froze when Ron tapped her on the shoulder. “Tag.”
She clenched her jaw and turned to stare at him as he shrugged unrepentantly.
Everyone immediately dodged a few feet away as she stood.
Harry tilted his head. “We should really find a spell that labels the person who’s it and has it transfer when someone gets tagged.”
Hermione shrieked as Ginny sprang towards them. “Not the time, Harry!”
Ginny was standing in the center of the room, everyone along the edges, when the door opened, and Anthony walked in, head down over a textbook.
Ginny grinned and just walked over to him, tapping him on the crown of his bent head.
“Hm?” He looked up to see her wide smirk. “What’s going on?”
“You’re it.” She patted him again and dodged around him and out the open door.
Harry was next through the door, laughing as Anthony groaned and threw his things on the closest chair. “Stay in the Central Hall area! No library, we don’t want Pince to murder us!”
Everyone joined the exodus of the Nook, giggling when they heard Anthony’s call of “No fair!”
The following hour was insanity as the group chased each other through the castle, picking up other friends to join, dodging through crowds, over banisters, even through the Central Fountain at one point as Fred spotted Marcus talking with Adrian Pucey and decided that the seventh-year needed to join the game.
Marcus was harder to convince, especially since he was now slightly soaked from Fred splashing through the fountain.
Pucey, however, grinned. “Damn, you’re it, Captain. That’s terrible for you.” He ran a few feet away, high-fiving Harry as he joined the players.
Flint sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I hate that all of my friends are either twelve year olds or act like one.” The next moment, however, he lunged forward, barely missing Pansy’s robes.
They almost had to stop when George tagged Ron right in front of McGonagall, who was leaving the staircase leading to the headmaster’s office. She eyed the two Weasleys, scanning the area and noting the dozen other students bouncing on the balls of their feet in preparation for another run.
The professor sighed, and waved off the two in front of her. “See that you don’t break anything, including each other.” She turned away, not quite in time to hide her smile.
Ron immediately smacked George’s shoulder again. “Oh no, you’re it again. Sucks.” He ran back through the crowd, vaulting over a banister by casting a feather light charm on himself and floating gently the flight and a half to the ground floor.
“Wait, how is that fair? There should be a rule about retags!” George almost threw himself down the stairs, missing Harry, who was sliding down the railing.
“We can hash out official rules later! Go!”
By the time the dinner bell rang throughout the castle, they were all heaving, and most of the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams were playing as well. Cedric Diggory was it when the bell had rung, and almost as one, the entire group shifted their game towards the Great Hall.
Cedric has just dived across the tile of the entrance hall to catch the heel of Terry Higgs as they all burst into the dining room, stopping just inside the doors to catch their breath.
No one needed to spell out that the room was off limits, and that the game was, for now, over.
Terry kicked at the floor when he realized he was the last it, and everyone else patted his back with grins as they dispersed, either to their own table, or where Harry had settled at the Hufflepuff table, reaching for an entire pitcher of water.
(No one was surprised that Harry fell asleep halfway through his meal, although his closer friends were worrying how little was left on his plate. Quite a few people got updated Boy-Who-Slept photos, which were added to parts of every common room where people, since Boy-Who-Slept had gotten popular the year before, had taken to sharing photos of friends sleeping and tacking it up on the wall. Slytherin’s photo wall even had a rare picture of Professor McGonagall in her cat form, curled up in front of one of the fires in the Great Hall between meals one weekend, right underneath the photo wall’s title of “Kips on Camera”. Farley, the seventh year prefect, sighed when she saw the title. “We should have been calling him the Boy-Who-Kipped, that sounds way better than Boy-Who-Slept.” No one paid attention.)
Samhain night, the three Slytherins crossed through the dungeons, Ron and Harry chatting about rituals, Hermione going through a list of questions Millicent had sent with them on her behalf.
They ducked in the room, bowing to the boisterous Gryffindor House ghost, who barely noticed them beyond a wave as he looked out into the corridor, clearly waiting for someone in particular.
The room was large, tables along either wall, heavy with food. Ghosts were scattered throughout, at various levels, someone dancing near the ceilings, others chatting in the corners.
Harry couldn’t tell where he wanted to look.
“Luna?” Ron’s voice broke Harry’s wide gaze, and he turned to follow his friend's incredulous stare. “What are you doing here?”
Ducking from between two opaque ghosts was a slight of a girl, blonde hair so light it was almost white, eyes wide and ethereal. Her voice was soft, but somehow still carried. “Oh, hello Ronald. I’ve become quite close with Myrtle on the second floor, and she offered to ask Sir Nick if he would mind terribly if I joined the celebrations. I even made pudding for the table.”
She gestured towards the long table with dishes in various stages of rot and mold. Front and center was a large bowl with bits of bones sticking out of a gelatin substance. “Daddy always said fresh fish heads make wonderful smells for ghosts, and it wasn’t difficult to ask the house-elves for their help in the kitchen.” She twirled her hair as she took in the room with slightly too-wide eyes.
“Sure.” Ron just nodded. “Luna, I know you met Anthony and Padma already, but would you like to meet some more of my friends?”
She blinked back towards them. “That would be nice, Ronald. Thank you.”
“Harry, Hermione, this is Luna. She grew up just over the hill from us, her dad owns and runs the Quibbler magazine. Luna, this is Hadrian Potter and Hermione Granger.”
The two Slytherins waved awkwardly as Luna’s bright eyes took them in. “Hello. Hadrian, you have very few Nargles. Hermione, you may want to see if there’s a hair product that will help you keep them away, you have quite a few floating around.”
Hermione’s gaze narrowed as she turned to Ron, who just mouthed 'later’ at her.
Harry, however, leaned in closer. “What are Nargles? And how do you see them?”
Luna gave a wide grin and started talking, Harry stepping closer.
Ron groaned, and at Hermione’s worried look, he explained. “I should have realized. Luna is almost as obsessed with magical creatures as Harry is, her da too. They’re convinced they know of loads of creatures that have yet to be discovered. If we’re not careful, the Lovegoods will have Harry halfway across the world looking for Crumpled Hornsnacks before we can even graduate.”
Hermione watched Harry follow Luna around the room with a small smile.
Her eyes caught on Ron, however, who was watching them with a furrowed brow.
“You can’t be jealous, Ron, not seriously.”
Ron flushed. “I’m not. I knew they would get along if they ever met. Had I thought about it, I would have introduced them sooner.”
“Then what’s with the face?”
“It’s just my face, Mione.”
“I’ve known you a year, Ronald Weasley, and your face is never just your face. You’re worried about something.”
“She’s just… She’s into animals, and rare magicks. Just like him. They’ll get along great, probably’ll end up adopting Merlin knows what and raising it together in the Forbidden Forest.”
Hermione’s expression turned from incredulity to understanding. “Ron, you have to know just because he makes a new friend doesn’t make you any less important to him. I can guarantee if you asked him if he would walk you back to the common room right now, he’d follow you without thinking twice.”
Ron watched the two for another moment before shaking his head, looking back to Hermione with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just so used to being someone’s first choice for once that I get scared it won’t always be that way.”
Hermione leaned into his side. “Well, you’re two people’s first choice. I mean, you share the spot with Harry for me. Just like I’m sure I share the spot with you for him.”
He hugged her from the side, resting his head on top of hers, ignoring the hair in his face. “Yeah. We’re pretty lucky, I think. I almost thought that we’d come back for second year and not be as close.”
Hermione pulled away and whacked his shoulder. “Bite your tongue, Weasley. That’s not how friendships work. Especially not ours.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because you pulled some ritual magick and made us a coven when we weren’t looking.”
Hermione laughed, a sound clearly not common in the Death Day room, as many turned to look. Harry, too, paused in the middle of a question to look their way, grinning at the sight of his friends happy. “You act like you wouldn’t say yes if I actually asked for that.”
Ron chuckled. “Fair enough, my lady. I don’t think there’s much you would ask that Harry and I wouldn’t do for you. Honestly, probably the rest of the normal crew, too.”
Hermione smiled, leaning further into him. “We need a name, don’t you think? For just the Nook kids. Something that properly conveys the reckoning we plan to unleash on the wixen world.”
“You know this is why people think we’re either a cult or a coven.”
She shrugged. “Maybe we need to be. Did you know in muggle culture, a citizen of Ancient Rome could walk the world unbothered. All he had to say was “I am a Roman,” and no other country would dare touch him. I want to have that safety, for us, our friends. For Harry. For us to be able to say, “I’m with them,” and even Death Eaters think twice. A name is a good place to start.”
“We’ll have to put it up on the board in the Nook. Take a vote.”
Harry and Luna chatted for the entire party, Hermione and Ron following after them with fond smiles. Every so often, Harry would pull away from her, asking something from them or just checking in. Hermione had taken to interviewing a few of the ghosts, Luna peering over her shoulder at the extensive notes she was taking. By the time Ron cast a quick Tempus charm and corralled his friends, citing the end of the dinner hour as a reason to go back to their dorms, Hermione and Luna had nearly a dozen of pages filled with stories and even more questions, and a promise from the majority of the ghosts for future interviews. The closing of the door to the Death Day Room sounded final as they were herded out by Ron’s rumbling stomach.
“Tweak promised we’d get dinner in the lounge, right?”
Hermione rolled her eyes as she fell into step beside him. “Yes, I asked again this morning.”
Harry and Luna had their heads together as they walked, Ron and Hermione holding hands as they followed just behind.
Until, however, Harry paused in the middle of a step, eyes scanning their surroundings with a wild look.
“Mate?” Ron dropped Hermione’s hand to step forward. “You alright?”
Harry looked pale, and his eyes were wide when he looked back at them. “That voice, it’s back. And it’s moving.”
Hermione sighed. “Let’s go, then. But some subtlety, maybe?”
He shot her a regretful smile, and then began to lead them up a flight of stairs.
They were just cresting the second floor when they met the other second years coming from dinner. The four melded into their friends, Luna grinning when Anthony and Padma greeted her happily.
The voice seemed to follow the flow of the crowd, until they suddenly hit a logjam in the middle of the corridor.
Harry instantly used his small stature to duck between older students, many of his friends following suit to see what the commotion was about, or out of worry for Harry himself.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, Justin, and surprisingly Draco were the ones able to make their way to the front of the crowd, just as people began to gasp or even scream.
Hanging from a sconce on the wall, throwing terrifying shadows along the hall, was the stiff figure of Argus Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris.
Underneath her form, in dripping red liquid (no one was willing to guess if it was paint or blood), read what Harry would only guess was a declaration of war.
The Chamber of Secrets.
Salazar Slytherin’s parting gift to the school before his anti-muggleborn views saw him removed.
And now, someone was using it as a threat.
Harry looked over just in time to see Draco smirk and take a breath.
Harry reached over to dig his fingers into his cousin’s shoulder. “If you say something stupid right now, in front of everyone, I will see it as a personal offense, and will react accordingly. Now is not the time to make this more of a scene,” he hissed, gaze shifting to where Justin was looking at the writing with his hands shaking.
Draco looked back over to Harry and rolled his eyes, but closed his mouth.
McLaggen, however, had no one at his shoulder other than a few fellow sneering Lions, and used the opportunity to speak up. “Chamber of Secrets? Isn’t that Slytherin’s schtick?” He turned a leer towards the Slytherins, eyes falling on Harry in particular. “Threatening muggleborns now, you slimy snakes? Shouldn’t be surprised. Tonight’s one of your Dark rituals, isn’t it? Should just lock you all up and save the rest of us the hassle.”
Fred stepped forward, slinging an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “You wouldn’t be threatening my siblings, now, would you, Cormac?”
“You mean the traitors? Weasleys have been in Gryffindor for centuries, and somehow you let two of your siblings end up going Dark?”
George poked McLaggen’s side right at his ribs. “At least they’re not dicks, like someone I could mention.”
McLaggen turned to the twins with a clenched fist.
Ron appeared at Harry’s side as the Gryffindors were distracted. “We should get out of here. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a House meeting tonight.”
Harry was already nodding. “Let’s get Justin back to his dorm and then we’ll take the secret passage from the kitchens to ours.”
Before they could move, Argus Filch shoved his way through the students. “What’s going on? Get to your dorms.”
The crowd immediately quieted, no one moving or even breathing as the man’s eyes scanned the area and finally fell onto the cat.
“Wha—Who did this?” He turned back towards the students, grabbing the closest one, the Ravenclaw Avery, who just held up his hands as Filch had him by the collar of his robes. “Was it you? Did you kill my cat?”
“Argus!” McGonagall’s voice echoed in the relative silence of the corridor. “Put Mr. Avery down, and compose yourself! The headmaster is on his way, and will see to this.”
“See to this? It’s not some—some students playing a prank between classes! This is my cat , she’s—she’s…” The man broke down, letting go of Typhon just to stare up at Mrs. Norris.
“She’s simply petrified, Argus.” The crowd parted to allow Dumbledore access to the clearing where the message was painted.
Following closely with a spring in his step was Lockhart. “Such a shame I wasn’t there, I know just the spell to negate petrification.”
Levi Avery ‘accidentally’ shouldered the professor harshly as he moved to stand beside his twin.
“Can she be fixed, then? Put right?” Filch was nearly begging as Dumbledore levitated the cat down and into the caretaker’s arms.
“We have a batch of mandrakes currently being grown, we simply just have to wait for them to mature so Severus can make a restorative draught and revive her.” The headmaster patted the man’s shoulder awkwardly. “Let’s take this to a less public location, yes?”
“Use my office, Albus, I insist. It is only around the corner, after all.” Lockhart grinned.
“My thanks, Gilderoy.” Dumbledore turned to the crowd of students, scanning them all before Harry felt the weight of his gaze.
Harry sighed just as the man spoke again. “It’s always Samhain, isn’t it.”
“Mr. Potter, a word?”
Harry gave the headmaster a genial smile over the new murmurs of the students. “Of course, sir.” He turned back to Ron. “Make sure Luna stays with Anthony and Padma. Get Justin to Susan, I think I saw her on the far side of the crowd.”
Snape cleared his throat as he moved to stand next to Harry. “Come along, Mr. Potter, I have better things to do than babysit your meeting with the headmaster.”
Harry rolled his eyes as Ron disappeared into the crowd. “You don’t have to come, sir, although I appreciate you taking the time.”
“It’s either join this little interrogation or risk you infuriating the headmaster past the end of his patience.”
“Well, at least we would finally be on equal footing.” Harry followed Snape towards where the other professors were beginning to walk over towards the Defense office.
Snape waited until they were a few yards away from the crowds, which were slowly being dispersed by Flitwick and Vector, the Arithmancy professor, before he spoke up. “I’d suggest being a Slytherin about this, Potter, and not prance into things like one of your Gryffindor friends. Not even the headmaster knows what is occurring, and he may not take your interference with as much indulgence as he did last year.”
Harry nodded slightly. “Information before action. I understand, sir.”
They moved down the hall, letting more space fall between the other professors and their slow gait.
“Now may not be the most opportune time to have this discussion, but with this as an added stressor, I must ask, are you well, Mr. Potter?”
Harry nearly missed a step. “Sir?”
“I understand your summer had a few mishaps towards the start. It has been a few months, now, and I need to be sure you’re acclimating back to school well.”
Harry was going to kill Hermione. “Are my grades so far not to your standards, Professor?”
“You know that’s not to what I refer, Hadrian. For instance, I can only assume that you did not eat dinner tonight.”
Harry rubbed at his forehead. “I’m fine, sir. Tweak was meant to send a few things up when we got back to the second year lounge. I’m acclimating just fine.”
Snape sighed. “If you ever need any assistance, you know where my office is. Whether it be something you don’t wish to bother Madam Pomfrey with, or if you need… what do you all call it… a sounding board from someone older than twelve?”
Harry let out a snort. “I’ll take it into consideration, sir. Thank you.”
“It is my job, Mr. Potter.”
He hesitated. “May I ask why, sir?”
Snape clenched his jaw. “No. Especially not here.”
“Of course. I’m sorry to intrude.”
“It is an intrusion that many dare to make, though you have more of a right than most to know. Perhaps in a few years, when a few more things come to light.”
Harry furrowed his brow, but just nodded. “You do enjoy referencing things I’d never have a chance of getting, don’t you, sir?”
Harry almost did a double-take when Snape actually laughed. “Indeed, Mr. Potter. I find that making allusions or jokes that those around you have no hope of understanding is a rare joy.”
They were at the end of the defense hallway, McGonagall standing in the doorway of Lockhart’s office with an impatient scowl.
“Onto the breach, then, sir?”
“I suppose calling God for Harry may be fitting, though I do not think Shakespeare had this in mind when he was writing Henry V.”
“I somehow don’t think Shakespeare would be surprised about magic being real, sir.”
“Nor do I, Mr. Potter. Shall we?”
“Must we?”
“Yes. Move.”