Updated: June 15th, 2017

Chapter 12: Almost in Trouble

The next night we had study hall in the library after classes. The four of us had claimed the end of a table, but we were unfocused on our work. I was trying to write my two foot long Charms essay when I felt eyes burning in the back of my head. I looked up to see Harry looking at me. I saw Ron and Hermione force smiles at our distressed friend. He suddenly frowned, gathered his books, and then got up from the table. As he walked away from us, students looked at him then quickly looked away. Even Madam Pince eyed Harry from her desk.

I scanned the length of the table. All the way at the other end I spotted Ginny. She looked very tired and rather pale as she scribbled furiously in her black book. My attention turned back to Ron and Hermione as they shared a knowing glance. My fist clenched. Just because Harry is always in the wrong place at the wrong time doesn't mean he is the Heir of Slytherin or whatever. From behind me I heard a few fellow second year Hufflepuffs talking about Harry. It was pissing me off.

"So, anyway, I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best he keep a low profile for a while," that sounded like Ernie Macmillan.

"But why would he want to attack Justin," a girl asked softly.

"Justin let it slip to Potter that he was Muggle-born."

"And you definitely think Potter's the Heir of Slytherin?" I leaned back further.

"Hannah, he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes?"

"But he seems so nice. And after all, Harry is the one who made You-Know-Who disappear."

"That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill Potter in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him."

"I can't believe this," I hissed to my two friends. Ron and Hermione looked up at me as I began gathering my books. "I am not going to sit here and listen to these lies."

I got up and hurried out of the room. Before I left, the girl, Hannah, whispered to Ernie, "I think she heard us."


"Harry," I called out to my friend as I sprinted toward him. "Harry, wait up." Harry turned around and waited for me. He gave me a half smile and kept walking. I stopped him. "Hey, don't listen to them. They like to make up rumors. What else are Hufflepuffs good for?"

The Boy Who Lived cracked a smile and I laughed. I motioned with my head that we should move on. As we walked along the torch-lit corridor I took time to study my friend out of the corner of my eye. Harry had untidy jet-black hair and almond-shaped green eyes. It startled me how small and skinny he was for his age. But I guessed that was from living with his No-Maj relatives. I liked how his round glasses were always crooked no matter how many times he fixed them. They complemented the shape of his face nicely.

Upon Harry's forehead, covered by his hair, was the famous lightning bolt shaped scar. Ron told me the story of how it was a result of the failed Killing Curse cast on him by Lord Voldemort. I already knew that story. Even in America, witches and wizards knew the story of Harry Potter. Over the summer, Ginny felt necessary to tell me the story again too.

As Harry and I turned a corner, he noticed something ahead on the ground. I walked closer to him as we got closer to the object. Oh no… Justin Finch-Fetchley was lying ridged on the floor, a look of sheer terror was frozen on his face. I took a few steps back and looked around. We have to tell someone…we have to get a teacher…we… At this point I looked up and gasped.

Harry looked back at me and then up. Nearly Headless Nick was floating above our heads, body teeming with black smoke. Harry knelt back down and touched Justin's wrist. I breathed slowly, about to say something when Filch and McGonagall rounded the corner.

Professor McGonagall gasped and Filch just smiled evilly. Harry was up and standing by me before I could say anything, "Professor, I swear I didn't…we didn't…"

"This is out of my hands. Mr. Filch, will you take care of this, please?"

My eyes shifted from my teacher to the school's caretaker then to Harry. Filch stalked passed up, glaring at Harry. McGonagall began to leave. Harry looked back at Justin and Sir Nicholas. I grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

"Dark magic," Filch muttered loud enough for us to hear. "That's what he's got, Potter. Even the air he breathes comes out poison. He's evil. Evil as they come…"

McGonagall kept up her fast pace until she marched up to an ugly stone gargoyle, "Sherbet Lemon." The gargoyle sprung to life, its wings opening as it spun into stairs. McGonagall told us that Dumbledore would be waiting for us. Then she left us there. Harry and I shared a worried glance and I walked up the steps first.

I stepped out of the gargoyle's embrace and entered a large, circular room. I raised my eyebrows at the strange silver instruments that were whirling quietly. Harry moved away from me to look at the Sorting Hat. I looked at the rows and rows of past Headmasters and Headmistresses snoozing in their portraits around us. Two, however, were awake. One was reading a book (his golden placement read: Professor Armando Dippet) and the other was writing on a piece of parchment (this was Professor Phineas Nigellus Black).

I looked back at Harry when I heard the Sorting Hat speak. Professor Phineas Nigellus Black coughed and I turned my head back towards him, "Are you going to stand there all night? Move on, girl!"

"Sorry," I muttered. "What a rude man."

When I turned again I noticed a decrepit bird sitting on a golden perch. I smiled as I walked up to Fawkes. I called for Harry and he came up next to me. Fawkes looked at both of us for the longest time. He warbled sadly then burst into flames. Harry gasped in horror.

"Professor, your bird…we couldn't do anything…he just caught fire," Harry told the man.

"About time too. He's been looking dreadful for days. Pity you had to see him on a Burning Day. He's really very handsome most of the time," Professor Dumbledore winked at me. I just stared into the ashes, waiting. Harry gave Dumbledore a confused look. "Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flames when it is time for them to die and are reborn in the ashes."

Dumbledore motioned to the ashes in the tray beneath the perch. Harry and I watched intently as the ashes swirled around. A baby phoenix poked out its wrinkled head, blinking through the heavy dust. I smiled at the little creature as it hummed. Dumbledore bent down to get a better look at his bird. He looked at me and asked if I knew anything about phoenixes.

"They can carry heavy loads, Professor," I told him. Over the summer I received a letter explaining all about magical creatures found in Europe; Fawkes was one of them. "Their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets. I'd love one someday."

Just then, Hagrid, clutching a dead rooster, burst through the door, "It wasn't Harry, Professor Dumbledore!"

"Hagrid," Dumbledore said calmly. Harry and I stared at the half-giant.

"I know it wasn' Harry. It can't 'ave bin!"

"Hagrid…"

"I'll swear ter it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic…"

"HAGRID," Dumbledore said louder. Hagrid stopped talking. "I do not think that Harry attacked anyone."

"Oh…right," Hagrid looked down, embarrassed. "I…I'll just wait outside then."

As Hagrid exited the room, Harry looked hopefully at Dumbledore, "You don't think it was me, Professor?"

"No, Harry. But I must ask you…the both of you…is there anything you'd like to tell me? Anything at all?"

Dumbledore waited. Harry looked like he was going to say something. He finally said there was nothing he could think of. I wanted to slap him. Here was Dumbledore, offering…asking…to help if anything was wrong and Harry was declining. I was about to say that there was something wrong, but Harry grabbed my wrist.

"Well, then, have a good night."

"Goodnight, Professor," Harry said and pulled me out the door.