Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, but I do own the story plot.
The Horror of the Unknown
Chapter 01 - Disappearances and Murder
**
Sighing, Cho Chang pulled off her Ravenclaw Quidditch Robes and revealed her black tanktop and jeans. She brushed out her hair, oblivious to the approaching figure in the distance. It encroached, faster and faster. Until it was at the light switch, and flipped it off with a click. Footsteps rang through the girl's locker room, closer and closer. Until Cho turned around and screamed. She ran, attempting to escape from the murderer, looking back to find [to her dismay] that it was still there.
"Stay away from me!" Cho Chang shrieked, her heart pulsing and mind racing. A dark figure opened its cloak and selected from the many utensils of death that it had stored from the mass murders of hundreds. Now it was at Hogwarts to give the school more horror that it could have been imagined.
"I'm warning you!" She shivered, drawing her wand. Her hand was shaking so violently from fright, that it was virtually useless to use in defense of the on-coming worlock. It raised a dagger, which flickered in the dim light of Filch's office closet, located near the lockers, and came down upon her with a sickening splat of blood. The figure removed its knife - still bloody from its latest murder , and walked away from the storage room leaving Cho's body to rot.. until someone found it.
**
"Good morning, you two. Are you ready for more of Professor Snape's boring lecture on treating Slitherins the way they want to be treated? It's like he's become a guidance conselor, except worse." Hermione Granger greeted Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, as the many sighs of Gryffindor were heard up and down the table.
It was their last year attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, to make it more exact - Their last week at Hogwarts. "So, were you able to finish the Charms essay that we had to finish?" Harry was about to respond in a muttered 'I forgot' about to get the scolding of his life, when the bell rang.
'Saved by the bell.' Harry thought, packing up his books to head for the library. Madame Pince had insisted that she taught a Study Hall instead of her normal 'Learn-About-The-Library' kind of class. "Has anyone seen Ms. Cho Chang?" Madame Pince asked, from the still-sleeping students. Sitting down on the back round table, Harry dumped out his quill and ink onto the table. A bag fell out as well, it was a muggle-used bag, with clear plastic. Inside it contained a dagger, glistening with blood.
A pang of horror and dismay fell upon Harry, and he shoved it back into his bag ; He glanced around the room to see if anyone had seen what he had just seen. 'Too bad Hermione's not her. I'm sure she could help out.. Or even Ron.' "Mr. Potter!" He heard his name called near the front of the room. "Please come here a moment."
Draco Malfoy sniggered in the opposite back corner as Harry grabbed his bag and sauntered, rather nervously towards the front of the room, where Madame Pince was waiting for him. "Harry, will you please take this cleaning slip to Filch's office. Leave it in the drop-in located inside the office closet." She handed him a green envelope. He walked away with a triumphant grin on his face as Draco sulked in misery.
**
Pushing the glass doors open, Harry felt the breeze fresh on his face. 'Ahh.. Nothing like getting out of class.' He walked across the deserted Quidditch field and to the small stone building opposite the field. To the left was the girl's locker rooms and to the right was the boy's locker rooms. In the center, to prevent any accidental mix-up was Filch's office. At least - One of the many offices of Filch.
Knocking slightly on the door, Harry noticed no one was inside. Or no one responded to his knocks of imploration [er.. is that a word?]. Opening the door slightly, he could view freely around Filch's outdoor office. There were some file cabinets behind a rustic desk which looked older than antique. To the left was a closet, which also led to the the Quidditch Broom Closet. He opened the door, just to get a glimpse and also to deposit the envelope. He opened the door, feeling wetness on his hand. After he had successfully opened the door, Harry looked down upon his hand. Blood. Then he took that glimpse of the corpse of Cho Chang. Her body was shriveled up, probably from the cold. A knife cut had been made in her chest, as Harry could see from the torn-up tanktop.
Gasping slightly, at the sickening sight of his ex-crush, Harry was startled and backed up. 'Why me? I have the dagger, and there's blood on my hands... Why would-' "Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Harry Potter. Step into my office, I believe you already have last night." Filch looked sternly. "I wondered who would return to the scene of the crime. As muggles say, The Guilty always return to the scene of the crime." Harry gulped down saliva that had formed in a puddle in his mouth.
"We'll have to alert Headmaster Dumbledore and his staff to see what they think about this." He felt his stomach drop, and all his hopes and dreams go down as well. It was useless, Harry Potter had been framed!
**
"Harry, where were you last night?" Professor Dumbledore asked, after they had gathered the Hogwarts staff and his friends- Ron and Hermione into a circular room. A bright light shown on his face, and only his. The interrogation was in progress.
"I was up in my dormitory room with Ron." Harry stated, looking at the dismayed Hagrid who was on the edge of breaking down. Professor McGonagall was antsy about a Gryffindor being a murderer, and Harry Potter of all people.
"Ronald, can you please confirm this?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Yes, Professor. He was up in the dormitory until lights out. I think he went out to gather some books from the Common Room, but nothing unusual."
"Why so late, Potter?" Growled Professor Snape, irritated at missing out on the childish television show- Pokemon, which he at first detested, but then accepted and grew to enjoy. 'Especially the sing-along', He thought.
"Well. You assigned that essay to us, and I had to finish it." Professor Dumbledore nodded his head, accepting his response as logical.
"We searched your bag, Harry. You've got ter tell us, where ya found this dagger." Hagrid asked, solemnly.
"I-I found it in my bag. Th-This morning at study hall in Madame Pince's class." Harry said, gasps were heard. Hermione was being held by Ron to keep her from fainting. "I don't know where it came from." He said, astounded.
"See here, Headmaster. I believe the boy is guilty. How do we not know that Potter is lying about getting his books from the Common Room? There was blood on his hands! Obviously there is-" Professor Snape started to say.
"Professor, I only had the blood on my hands when I touched the door knob in Filch's office. Madame Pince told me to leave the envelope in the folder inside the closet." Filch nodded his head, grudgingly. "Here it is. I never got a chance to deliver it before Filch dragged me here."
"This is an outrage! Now you all stay silent and listen to me!" Professor Snape pointed around, landing his index finger on Harry Potter. He stood up, and walked to the center of the room. The Hogwarts School council, known as the Circle of Educators, [hence the shape of the room] tuned in on Professor Snape's livid speech.
"How can we allow this boy- Harry Potter, to go free? The evidence points to him in all aspects. He leaves his dormitory before bedtime and claims to have gone to the Common Room. Could it not be that Mr. Potter here went to the girl's Quidditch locker rooms and killed Ms. Chang?" Gasps were heard throughout the room. "He has the dagger, with Cho's very own blood on his hand and-"
"But Professor!" Harry said, growing irritated at Snape's ignorance.
"You! Be quiet and listen as I deliver this! He has blood on his hands! Death onto him, I say! Death!" By now, Harry was trembling for fear of Azkaban, and the Dementors. His fate seemed to have been decided on only mere evidence. Trembling, Harry looked up into Snape's livid glare, and blacked out.
**
The figure looked around the deserted room, Colin Creevy was shivering behind a stack of pots and pans. Closer and closer the figure drew, until Colin could see the face of his demise. "Pl- Pleas- Please do-don't k-kii-kill me." He begged, slowly an ax was drawn and raised up into the moonlight shining through the window of the kitchen, before it plunged down.
**