Headless Chickens
Chapter 12: Headless Chickens
The secretive inner circle had planned to research their newest theory of what the monster could be, after their lessons for the day. By next morning, however, the snow that had begun the previous day had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lessons of the term were canceled.
Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, except apparently Pansy and Longbottom and some Fifth Year Hufflepuff. Now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey, Pansy couldn’t say no to the opportunity to work individually with her favorite professor and score a few extra points for Slytherin.
So the boys walked her up to the main level to see her off to the greenhouses, but a blur of red hair whipped past them, nearly knocking Pansy over.
“That little brat!” Pansy shrieked, but the girl never stopped or even paused. It was as though she was on autopilot.
“It’s the Weaselette!” Draco whispered, pulling the small group outside to follow her. “But where’s she going?”
They watched as she quickly stormed down the path toward Hagrid’s hut, and they started to turn around when they heard a riot of squawking coming from the chickens’ pen. The friends turned to see Ginny Weasley chopping off a rooster’s head and tossing the body in a bucket.
“What in Salazar’s name is that psycho doing?!” Theo said, stunned.
“Shhhh!” Blaise and Draco swatted his arms simultaneously.
“Okay, I’ve seen enough for one day—a day, mind you, that’s barely begun!” Pansy stomped off in disbelief, wading through the small snow drift blocking her path to the greenhouses.
“…I smell blood… ” Draco whispered, connecting the dots.
Blaise looked at him solemnly, “the writing on the walls…”
The trio quickly moved to the library once Pansy was safely in the care of Professor Sprout. The castle was darker than usual with the grayish swirling snow piling up against the windows. The boys shivered as a chill crept through the halls, claiming them.
Once inside the library, they found it filled with Second Year Hufflepuffs who were supposed to be in Herbology apparently. They were viciously whispering to themselves, so Draco, Blaise, and Theo huddled in arm chairs closest to a cozy fireplace already flickering full of flames.
Theo went to track down a book on magical monsters, returning a short while later with Most Macabre Monstrosities by Samara Dirge. Blaise went looking for a text on maladies and ailments hoping to find a link from the petrified students to anything remotely reptilian.
Draco pulled out the copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that he had taken from the library. He had barely made it through the ‘A’s the last time before giving up, but now that he had more to go on, maybe he could look through the indices.
He flipped through what he had already read: Acromantula, Ashwinder, and he skipped over Augury as he knew it wouldn’t fit the description he was looking for. He started looking through the ‘B’s casually to see if anything stood out. The first page he came to instantly grabbed his interest and it seemed like Theo had come to the same conclusion just as quickly.
“Basilisk!” They both whispered, flipping their books around to show each other and Blaise what they had found.
Theo started rattling off the information he had found—
“ Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it. "
“Yes! This book here also says—“ Draco added as he read from the text in his lap.
“ The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark wizard and Parselmouth, who discovered after much experimentation that a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a gigantic serpent possessed of extraordinarily dangerous powers.
The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death.
If the food source is sufficient (the Basilisk will eat all mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a very great age. Herpo the Foul's Basilisk is believed to have lived for close to nine hundred years.
The creation of Basilisks has been illegal since medieval times, although the practice is easily concealed by simply removing the chicken egg from beneath the toad when the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures comes to call. However, since Basilisks are uncontrollable except by Parselmouths, they are as dangerous to most Dark wizards as to anybody else, and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years. ”
“This is it!” Blaise said excitedly. “We’ve found it! Shall we go tell Snape?”
“I think we should,” Draco said, feeling the weight of the situation landing on his shoulders. “But how is a basilisk getting around the school? One that old has to be the full fifty feet!”
“You would think it would be easy to spot,” Blaise agreed.
“Both Mrs. Norris and the Creevey boy were both near the second floor bathrooms where Moaning Myrtle is,” Draco thought out loud. “Maybe we should see what Myrtle knows?”
Neither of the other boys had a better idea, so they agreed to go and talk to her after Transfiguration. Before they left, Draco took the book Theo had been reading and made a copy of it with a wave of his wand. Geminio. He quickly folded the copy and placed it in his robes for later.
They didn’t quite make it all the way to McGonagall’s class before they heard a commotion in the halls. By the time they reached the end of the corridor, everyone was clearing out. Ernie Macmillan was using a large fan to float the Gryffindor ghost up the stairs, he was filled with a darkness and frozen horizontally. Potter was there, naturally, and being led away by Professor McGonagall as Professors Flitwick and Sinistral took Justin Finch-Fletchley to the Hospital Wing. He had been petrified.
“Potter must have tried to finish him off after he got away during the Dueling Club!” a student nearby whispered.
“I don’t know, Harry always seemed so nice,” another countered.
The three Slytherins decided now would be the time to go to the girls’ bathroom and have a chat with Myrtle.
…
“Who’s in my bathroom? Come to make fun of me?!” the sobbing ghost wailed as she flew out from behind a closed stall door.
“Uh, it’s uh, us Myrtle—we brought our friend Theo,” Draco stepped in front of the group, hands raised in surrender. Theo was practically shaking beside him, holding his tongue from spouting out the rude thoughts rioting around in his brain.
“Theo…he’s rather cute too I suppose…but I prefer blondes,” Myrtle said coyly as she hovered closer to Draco’s rigid body. She giggled and the boys shared an uncomfortable look between them.
“So, have things been any better lately?” Blaise tried to redirect the ghost’s pearly gaze.
“I wouldn’t call someone brewing potions in my bathroom better—but they don’t make fun of me I suppose,” Myrtle whined.
“Who’s brewing potions in here?” Theo asked, abandoning their planned course of conversation as he scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.
Then they could smell it. A mixture of…tar and…amaretto? Draco stormed to the last stall, the door was hanging at an angle slightly off its hinges. He shoved the door open and when it swung, he was shocked. I was right! Weasley and Granger AREbrewing something…but what?
Blaise lurked over his shoulder trying to get a look. “Any idea what it is, Myrtle?”
Suddenly feeling important and included, she practically preened at the attention the boys were giving her. “Well, they kept talking about needing a month and that it was almost ready now that they got the last of the ingredients in. The frizzy hair girl said they need “bits” of people…I couldn’t hear much more, I was crying in the u-bend,” she sniffled as she assessed their facial expressions, trying to gauge if she helped or should start to wail again.
“…bits of people…?” Theo repeated a little worried, gulping.
“What is she up to? That sounds like Dark Magic—“ Draco mumbled to himself in a concerned tone.
“Oh you’re worried about HER are you?!” Myrtle shouted, suddenly in Draco’s face and full of rage.
“Myrtle, what are you—“ he tried to say, but she punched her icy hand through his chest.
“You’ve broken my heart! She’s not even pretty with that frizzing bush of hair! GET OUT! GET OUT ALL OF YOU!” Moaning Myrtle roared fiercely before screaming out tears that would never fall and splashing back into her toilet.
The boys shot out of the loo without having to be asked twice. Myrtle was temperamental and they would have a lot of making up to do to go back in there again. Chests heaving, they collected themselves against the stone walls.
“Did you see what book was in there?”
“ Moste Potente Potions, it has to be from the Restricted Section,” Draco nodded, the wheels spinning in his brain. “What potion that Dark would she actually attempt?”
“We need to see Snape, mate. I know you wanted to wait until we had more information, but I don’t see how we’ll get that book, now that Myrtle’s gone ballistic and nobody in their right minds would give Second Year Slytherins access to the Restricted Section. I bet Snape knows exactly what potion it is,” Theo pleaded.
“Fine, let’s go,” Draco feebly agreed and the three Slytherins stalked back to the dungeons looking for the Potions Master.
…
“So, Miss Granger is brewing a Polyjuice Potion, interesting,” Snape drawled as though uninterested, his mask firmly in place. “I should have guessed when my personal stores were a little light—boomslang skin and bicorn horn? I haven’t had any recent use for either aside from replenishing Pomfrey’s monthly stores of Pepper Up potions.”
“There’s more, sir,” Theo straightened his shoulders and braced himself for ridicule. “We think the monster in the Chamber is a basilisk.”
Severus Snape appeared to mull over his words in his mind, before returning to grading the papers scattered on his desk. “What is your proof?”
“Please, sir, its stare can kill, and it can live for hundreds of years. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth and would’ve been able to get it down there by just commanding it. Not to mention the spiders, and then there’s the rooster—“ Theo rambled on until Snape held his hand up to stop him in his tracks.
“Rooster?”
“Ginny Weasley was killing the roosters in Hagrid’s pen early this morning,” Draco said quietly, knowing Snape could very well hear every word.
“What kind of ill-formed rumor is that?” Snape drawled, but his mask was slipping and concern clouded his nearly black eyes.
“It’s not a rumor, sir,” Blaise bravely said. “We saw her do it this morning just at daybreak. We walked Pansy to the edge of the castle so she could help Professor Sprout with the Mandrakes, and Weasley ran past us. We watched her go all the way to Hagrid’s and cut the chicken’s head off.”
Snape’s mask had finally fallen and a look of sheer shock was plastered in its place. “One little problem with your theory—no one’s been killed, merely petrified, not to mention that it would be quite large to go undetected. I can assure you the Headmaster and myself have sweeped the castle numerous times and found no trace of the actual Chamber nor any hidden magical creatures.”
“I think I’ve figured that out, only just now really—“ Draco’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on the puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind, “—there was water on the floor when Mrs. Norris was petrified, and that Creevey kid was looking through his camera, then Finch-Fletchley must have seen it through the Gryffindor ghost and the ghost was already dead—“
“A basilisk,” Snape murmured, trying to follow Draco’s puzzle. “And Weasley…she has to be possessed then…” he whispered to himself before turning on the three students. “Out! Get out now! Back to the dormitories immediately!” Snape angrily whispered to them as he flew from the room like a great bat, black cloak billowing around him. He waved his arm through the air in one wide stroke of wandless magic to neatly put away the papers he had been grading and locking them up tightly in his desk drawer.
They stood frozen in both fear and frustration at violently being thrown out of a room twice in less than an hour. They weren’t much closer to solving the puzzle than they were at the start of the day. However, one thing they now knew for certain—there was a basilisk in the castle and Potter was brewing Polyjuice. But for what?
…
“Wake up, wake up, wake up! It’s CHRISTMAS! ” Theo shouted jumping from one bed to the next, starting with Vince’s, Greg’s, then moving across the room to Draco’s and lastly Blaise’s beds. He bounced with an abundance of energy that none of the rest of them could even come close to matching.
“Go back to bed!” Blaise grumbled angrily, rolling over to grab his wand. With a flick, his green curtains shut tightly around the four-poster.
Theo wasn’t phased in the slightest, however. “Draco! Get up! Presents! ”
“Who sent you presents?” Draco didn’t mean to be cruel, but he was curious who Theo thought he would be getting gifts from. Certainly Nott Sr. wouldn’t be sending him anything.
“Daph left me one! Now let’s go, you prat!”
“And you didn’t already open it?” Draco lifted a curious brow at his impatient friend’s uncharacteristic restraint.
“She’s got it set to hex anyone who tries to open it before sunrise Christmas morning. Now, come on!” Theo lifted his denim blue puppy-dog eyes to look up at Draco through his thick lashes.
“Oh, fine, let’s go then,” Draco gives in. Vince and Greg slowly get up as well, with the promise of sweets sent by their parents, leaving Blaise to snooze deeply into the early afternoon.
Each of the boys had a small load of gifts to tear through. Theo went straight for the small silver box tied with a shiny gold ribbon. He held it to his ear and shook it once before yanking the ribbon off and tossing the lid aside. It was a Muggle sixpence. Theo was infinitely disappointed and his face dropped along with his whole demeanor.
“A Muggle coin?” He went to pick it up, but Draco stopped him quickly.
“Did you read the note?” Draco handed the small square of parchment that had been tucked inside the lid. Theo grabbed the paper eagerly and speedily read through Daphne’s thin handwriting.
“It’s a portkey! She wants me to come spend the rest of the holidays with her!” Theo was beaming again, and Draco was truly happy for his friend. This would easily be the best Christmas hols the poor guy had ever had.
Draco opened a package from his parents, more than likely just his mother, but he was still grateful when he opened the box to find the usual collection of sweets, a pair of first editions of books he hadn’t yet read, and a designer soft-gray cashmere sweater. Once he pulled the sweater out for a closer inspection, a smaller black box tumbled out onto his lap. He lifted the lid slowly, uncertain of what it could be.
A small note was tucked inside much like the note from Daphne:
Draco,
If you see fit, I think this self-inking quill and stationary set would be a perfect first gift for a certain someone. I picked out the colors and patterns myself—I couldn’t bear to make it a true Gryffindor pairing so pink will have to do. I had to hide it in the sweater, just in case your father decided to take a look before I sent it off.
I miss you tremendously.
All my love,
Narcissa D. Malfoy
He quickly tucked the small black box back into the larger one under his sweater. Draco knew his friends wouldn’t care, but it wouldn’t do for one of their big mouths to say something about it before he could figure out how to give it to her.
Vince and Greg each opened a trunk-loads worth of sweets and baked goods—sugar quills, chocolate frogs, treacle tarts, cauldron cakes, mince pies, and so on. Not even bothering to go down for breakfast, they tore into their new stashes ravenously.
…
Draco and Theo went to breakfast in the Great Hall alone. Pansy would, no doubt, be trying to sneak a gift into their room for Blaise while he was still asleep. Of course, she would never admit it was from her, and her ridiculously stupid dance with Blaise would continue for another six months or so.
The Hall was magnificent—it could never rival a Narcissa Malfoy designer Christmas, but Draco was happy to get to experience a Hogwarts Christmas, even if it was only once. There were a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling.
The boys ate their fill at breakfast, enjoying the pleasant silence of the near-empty Hall, then quietly started their trek back to the commonroom. Draco paused as they approached the stairs.
“I’ll meet you down there, I need to send something back to my parents,” Draco said, patting his pocket and moving toward the opposite staircase. Theo didn’t pay much attention and simply nodded—too full to even mumble a reply.
The blonde Slytherin pulled the box out of his pocket, and tapping it with his wand, put it back to its original size. He skipped steps, quickly hopping toward the Owlery with a buzz of excitement between his eyes and in his gut. He finally had figured out what he would say in the note to accompany the gift. However, just as he reached the third landing, Professor McGonagall stopped him.
“Mr. Malfoy, perfect timing, please come with me,” she turned and continued up the steps only stopping once they reached the seventh floor.
“Professor, can I ask why you brought me up here?” Draco asked nervously. He knew he hadn’t done anything particularly obnoxious lately, and he hadn’t even gone for any more late night strolls.
“Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you,” she gave him a curt nod, turned toward a large gargoyle and said, “sherbert lemon”. Once the steps to the Headmaster’s tower appeared, she left him to go up alone.
Finally reaching the top, Draco took a moment to catch his breath and straighten his sweater before entering.
“Come in, Draco,” the Headmaster’s raspy voice called from within.
“Professor Dumbledore,” he greeted the elder man.
“Happy Christmas, my dear boy!” Dumbledore appeared to be in high spirits. “Did you get anything good for Christmas? Minerva’s gotten me socks again this year—fantastic isn’t it?” He lifted the side of his robes so Draco could see a pair of maroon knit socks peeking out from the man’s shoes.
“Er, Happy Christmas, sir,” Draco said, instantly confused at the purpose of the meeting.
“Now, on to more pressing business!” Dumbledore clapped his hands together, then leaned back in his chair, setting them over his lap. “I have spoken with Professor Snape and he has informed me of your working theory.”
“Yes, sir?” Draco wasn’t sure if it was really a question, but the old man was gazing deeply into his eyes. Instinctively, he tightened his hold on the library in his mind—checking to make sure each tome was still secured properly in its place.
“I see you have been practicing your Occlumency,” Dumbledore said, the corners of his eyes tightening ever so slightly—it would have gone unnoticed by anyone other than the son of Narcissa Black-Malfoy, queen of subtlety and poised facial expressions. “You seem to have a natural talent for it, much like your mother,” he nodded and smiled, eyes twinkling.
“Yes, sir,” Draco didn’t dare say any more. He wasn’t sure why the Headmaster was all of the sudden trying to read his thoughts, but the less he said, the less he could give away.
“So you believe the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk?” Dumbledore began again, this time more straightforward. Draco nodded in reply, and realizing the boy had no intention of elaborating, the wizard continued. “I quite agree, and am rather concerned I didn’t think of it myself.”
“Thank you, sir.” It wasn’t truly a compliment, but Draco smirked inwardly with pride at having bested the great Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore—though he never let it show on his face. He wouldn’t give the old man the satisfaction of seeing any emotions.
“I think it would be best if we kept this information between us, for now, I think—until Severus and myself can locate the Chamber, that is,” Dumbledore said too calmly. He wanted a rise out of Draco, but he wouldn’t get it.
Surely though. Surely he knew that no one in their right minds—even a child—would agree that keeping the whole school in the dark about a creature actively trying to kill them was anything less than a despicable concept. Yet here he was, asking a twelve year old boy to put his classmates in danger. No warnings. No help. Nothing. It’s like he wants the entire school to panic like chickens with their heads cut off.
He knows something and he’s not telling me…or Snape for that matter. I doubt he’s told anyone—no one can know the whole truth. That certainly sounds like something Dumbledore would say. What does it matter though, all my friends are purebloods except—her. Granger. I have to tell Granger—she needs to know. Dumbledore wouldn’t put one of his perfect trio in real danger…would he?
“We will meet again soon, I expect, Draco. Enjoy the rest of your holidays,” the Headmaster smiled at the boy—the same smile he used on all of them, even Potter. Draco could see right through it.
He smiled back just as disingenuously, “you too, sir.”
…
By the time Draco got all the way back to the dungeons, he realized he had forgotten to take the box to the Owlery. I’ll do it later. I’m in no mood to apologize for anything and it took me a solid hour to come up with that note! Maybe I’ll just happen to run into her later in the library. If anyone will be there on Christmas, it’ll be her.
Walking into the commonroom, he found Blaise and Pansy sitting on the couch together, whispering. Theo was snoring so loudly, he could hear it through the door to their room. He turned around to ask Blaise if he’d seen Vince or Greg, but Draco had a feeling he knew exactly where they had gone.
As he turned to head back out the door, he took note of just how closely Pansy and Blaise were sitting—then he saw it—they were holding hands. Finally! Draco grinned inwardly— a Christmas miracle…
Going back up the steps for what felt like the hundredth time already that day, the blonde Slytherin found Vince and Greg at their usual spots in the Great Hall. The pair was scarfing down their second helping of trifle, when Vince asked him what he had received for Christmas.
“Some new books and this sweater,” Draco said briefly, tugging at the cashmere sleeves. It really does feel like heaven, though .
“Tha’s sweet!” Vince choked out over his mouthful.
“We go’ loads of snacks!” Greg grinned giddily over his bowl before shoveling another large bite down his gullet.
Draco sipped his tea, slowly, still full from the morning’s breakfast. When he looked up, he noticed Granger and Weasley staring directly at him. Potter even chanced to turn his head far enough to clearly be looking at him. What do they want? Can’t they just let me be—it’s bloody Christmas for Merlin’s sake!
He sneered in their direction—mostly at Potter’s lack of spying capabilities—but the second Potter turned around, his eyes were locked with hers . The arrogant look fell from his face and the corner of his lips turned up slightly. He hoped beyond all hope that she would take it as a sign of surrender. It had been a long few months without her to pester in the library—or at least stare at and watch her study.
Her eyes tightened in a clear defiance of his supposed peace treaty. She was denying him any forgiveness, but could he really blame her? I did call her a Mudblood…even if she is one…not to mention she was being a bitch… Okay, so maybe he wasn’t ready to apologize either.
He went back to sipping his tea, avoiding looking anywhere near the direction of the Gryffindor table.