Chapter 3

Year Two: The End of the Beginning, Part One

The reactions by those in the Headmaster's office were mixed.

Naturally, the mixture was composed largely of suppressed outrage and unsuppressed outrage.

Arthur Weasley, already torn between frustration and fear, was silent and trembling like a man literally possessed. His palms were practically raining sweat as he vainly brushed them on his robes over and over, though of course they never quite dried. His head was bowed in the kind of pain that only a distraught father can feel.

His wife, Molly Weasley, was still passed out, unable to handle the stress of the situation.

Their son, Percy Weasley, was wearing a stoic mask, but his brow was furrowed with clear distress. He occasionally mopped his forehead with his sleeve, staring at Dumbledore with a questioning look.

His brother, Ron Weasley, was verbally exploding, but we'll get back to that.

His friend, Neville Longbottom, was grinding his teeth with anger. He looked half a second away from whipping out his wand and firing every spell he knew at the elder Malfoy.

Their friend, Hermione Granger, was stuck in fish mode. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, with no words managing to find their way out. Her eyes darted back and forth between the suspended Headmaster and his current replacement, widened in disbelief.

Harry Potter was still engaged in a staring contest with the phoenix Fawkes, whom he apparently found quite fascinating. Fawkes was losing.

Now, back to the youngest Mister Weasley. He was still exploding, face redder than his hair. He stood suddenly and jabbed an index finger at Malfoy.

"You can't do that! Dumbledore is the Headmaster!"

Lucius smiled. "I am afraid you are as dreadfully ignorant as usual, little boy. The Headmaster serves at the pleasure of the Board of Governors," he said, then scowled. "We are not pleased."

"But you can't just kick him out of Hogwarts," Ron protested. "He's the most powerful wizard in the world! Who else could do better than him?"

"Obviously brat, the Board has decided that I can," Lucius said, scowling. "You would do well to remember your place and respect your Headmaster."

Ron glared back, but said nothing as the former Headmaster chose to interject.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, lifting his head and setting the Board's message down on his desk, "but the boy does have a point."

Lucius cocked his head at Dumbledore the way a man controlling a hostage situation turns his gun on an unruly captive. "Do tell."

Dumbledore smiled. "The instructions from the Board are very clear, Lucius. I will not be forced to leave the castle, nor must I vacate my office. In fact, the Board explicitly requested I remain and do my best to find the culprit behind these attacks. I have temporarily been demoted to Assistant Headmaster, with Minerva as my adviser, and will handle the day-to-day activities of Hogwarts."

"But Professor Dumbledore, what else does the Headmaster do?" Hermione asked. "If he isn't running the school, what is the point of making him Headmaster?"

Malfoy looked like he wanted to strangle her. His fingers twitched a bit on his crossed arms, as if he were doing just that.

"An excellent question, my dear," Dumbledore replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Lucius will have executive decision-making powers, of course, but the maintenance of school matters will be left to the existing staff. As it happens, the Board is pleased with the academic standards of the school. It is merely the... ah, temporary safety concerns that have led to this decision. Did I miss anything, Lucius?"

The poor man looked like his muscles had frozen into place with the restraint it took to keep them in place. He nodded his head begrudgingly, recalling how hard it had been to force even those terms down the throats of the Board. "Nothing, Albus, except for your seeming disregard for the health of your students. Referring to petrifications perpetrated by an unknown assailant as a 'temporary safety concern' only highlights your whimsical approach to the security of the castle. That is why I have been given overriding authority as Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, the Board also said that if things deteriorate under your leadership, the status quo would be restored."

"You sound as if you would welcome another attack simply to displace me from my position, Professor. I hope you do not let this conflict of interests delay your investigation of these ruthless attacks on schoolchildren."

"I would never entertain such a thing, as you well know Lucius. The students are my number one priority."

"And yet, that has not prevented the death of a student and the incapacitation of two more in the past year," Lucius drawled, sparing a significant look for Harry, who was still pawing through Hermione's mane, "as well as the mysterious condition Mister Potter… developed recently. Perhaps a new perspective is needed in the Headmaster's office."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore assuaged. "For now, I will use the time afforded to me by the relief of my duties to search for the truth behind the troubles that have beset these hallowed halls."

He shuffled some papers. "In fact, I shall start with that immediately. Lucius, an office has been set up for you. If you wish, I may show you—"

"I can see myself out, Professor. I will keep in touch regarding some of the changes that will be coming to Hogwarts. Enjoy the company of these… people while you can, Albus. The next change may involve your employment."

With that, he strode to the door. Suddenly, he whirled back and, before anyone could stop him, snatched Ginny's bag off the floor.

"Hey!" she cried. "That's mine!"

"Lucius, get your hands off my daughter's things, or so help me I—"

He held the bag in front of Arthur and smiled coldly. "You are mistaken, Arthur. I have taken this not as Lucius Malfoy, head of House Malfoy, but as Lucius Malfoy, Headmaster of Hogwarts, investigating a security concern. If Miss Weasley has no objectionable items in her bag, she would not object to a search, would she?"

She glared at him, but said nothing. He flicked slowly from book to book at first, but after passing through everything once his rifling grew frantic and after a minute of awkward silence, he was practically yanking things out of her bag. Finally satisfied, he stuffed everything back in haphazardly and shoved the bag into her hands.

"Take this ratty thing back, then."

Dumbledore looked at Malfoy curiously. "Were you searching for something in particular, Lucius? Perhaps I can help you find whatever it is you—"

"No," he snarled, "it was merely an example of the kinds of steps I will be taking as Headmaster to ensure the safety of the students. I have nothing more to say now, perhaps you should send these children back to their Common Rooms so they do not violate curfew, Assistant Headmaster."

With that, he spun to the door and actually did leave this time. When he did, the whole room released a collective sigh of relief. Except for Harry, of course, who was sitting on a slim black notebook. Arthur broke the silence.

"Is this the only way?"

Dumbledore nodded genially. "I am afraid so, Arthur. The Board was quite clear on their demands. Even the Governors who I am on friendly terms with are very displeased with the situation. Your grandmother in particular was rather… vociferous," he said, giving a pointed look to Neville. "It was all I could do to moderate the terms as I did."

"My grandmother was a party to this?" Neville asked, face darkening. "I think we are overdue for a talk."

A surprised look flashed across Dumbledore's face for a moment, but receded. "Yes, of course. I must apologize for subjecting you all to that discussion with Mister Malfoy. His timing was most unfortunate. Arthur, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley was slowly coming to. "A-Arthur? Where… Arthur, the twins! The clock! Mortal danger!"

Arthur held her closer. "Shh, it's all right. They aren't badly hurt."

"Badly hurt?" Molly moaned, still groggy. She turned weakly to Dumbledore. "What…?"

"They are unharmed, Molly, but incapacitated at the moment. I am afraid that they have been petrified."

"P-petrified?" she asked. "By who?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I must admit that Lucius is right in this case. I do not know who or what has been skulking the corridors in recent weeks. Petrification is powerful, dark magic, something most students are simply incapable of performing. Either there is an intruder in the castle or some kind of creature has made its way here."

Molly opened her mouth, but Dumbledore cut her off. "As for the boys, they will not be out of commission for very long. We will have a supply of Mandrake Drought produced in a few months and reverse the petrification as soon as it is made."

"But their schooling—"

"Once they are awakened, we will take care of everything. If I must teach them myself, Molly, I will take the time to do so."

"T-that isn't… I mean… this isn't your fault…"

"Whether these incidents were preventable is up for debate, but in the end the responsibility to protect this school falls to me. Molly, I have not lived up to the expectations I have cultivated, for better or worse, and for that I am sorry. For now, I must continue my research into the cause of these attacks. Arthur, Molly, if you have any questions regarding the health of your children, do not hesitate to Floo my office. In this respect, I am at your service."

Arthur and Molly looked to each other, all at once flattered and somewhat shocked to be dismissed like schoolchildren. "Y-yes, well," Arthur said, "we'll be going. I… that is, kids, be safe and write us."

"Yes," Molly said, "write often. And don't walk around on your own! Please…"

The tears began welling up in her eyes again. Ron walked over to place a hand on her shoulder next to his father and she began crying into him instead. Ron gave a pointed look at Hermione and they both flushed a little at the déjà vu. Arthur led her up and out through the Floo and the kids remaining sat next to each other, still shell-shocked. Percy took the chance to excuse himself, grumbling half-heartedly about Prefect duties. Dumbledore's gaze crossed all of them and he cleared his throat.

"I am sorry to dismiss you so suddenly, but if that is all, I really must—"

"Professor Dumbledore?"

He paused. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What about Harry? How is he… I mean…"

"Ah, thank you for reminding me Miss Granger. If you don't mind?"

Hermione looked a little embarrassed as she pried his fingers from her head and squeezed them in hers. She led him slowly to Dumbledore's desk, where the Headmaster—ahem, Assistant Headmaster—lightly placed his fingers on Harry's head and tilted his face to meet his own. He stared deeply into Harry's eyes for a few pregnant moments before a look of frustration passed his face and he looked away, withdrawing his wand instead. He muttered a few incantations and Harry glowed blue, then orange, then white. Hushed mumblings of "curious, curious…" set the other children in the room on the edge of their seats.

"Professor?"

"Just a moment, Miss Granger."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but remained silent as Dumbledore waved his wand over Harry in fluid, arcing motions, then tapped his head. Dumbledore leaned in closer and sighed.

"This is... perturbing."

The kids sat in silence and looked at him, waiting.

"The magical tests all seem to indicate that Mister Potter's condition is improving, but his mind seems as blank as ever."

"Professor," Hermione interjected, "I've done some research and I think Harry may be suffering from a Muggle condition as well as whatever is affecting him magically, whatever that is, though I'm not sure anyone knows and… and—"

"Take your time, Miss Granger."

She blushed and took a deep breath, recomposing herself. "Yes, sorry. As I was saying, I think there may be something wrong with Harry that isn't just magical. His mind might be recovering biologically as well, but I can't confirm my theory if I can't find the outlet!"

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. Hermione took a breath and continued. "The outlet is what should be keeping Harry anchored to this world in spite of his condition. He should have some kind of escape where he emerges from his condition, even if only briefly, and is able to act and think at least somewhat normally. I can't find any proof of this at all though! It's… it's…"

"Maddening?"

"Yes! Maddening. Thank you, Professor," Hermione said.

"I woke up and found him in the loo once. Does that count?"

Hermione sighed. "We went over this Ronald, he's been taking care of bodily functions since he was staying at the Dursleys. I think they were too terrified to touch him anymore, honestly."

Ginny seemed to snap out of her trance at this. "What do you mean 'anymore'?"

"I—I misspoke. Sorry Ginny."

Ginny, who had been silent until then, looked unconvinced, as did Professor Dumbledore, but neither questioned further.

"Will he recover then Professor?" Ginny asked. "Tell us!"

"Show some respect, Ginny!"

"Sod off, Ronald."

Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled. "Now, now, no need to fight. Mister Potter is showing all the signs of physical and magical recovery, but his mental recovery seems to be stunted. Only time will tell us whether he will ever regain full cognizance."

Dumbledore stood. "Now, I know you must have many questions, but these attacks will likely not stop themselves. If anything changes regarding Mister Potter's status, contact Professor McGonagall and she will inform me herself. Students," he said, gesturing toward the door.

"Thank you, Professor. But if I may ask one last question?"

The rest of the room turned to Neville. He had been silent to this point as well.

He took a deep breath. Is what happened to Harry the same as," he paused, briefly glancing at the others in the room, "what happened to… Frank and Alice?"

"An insightful question, Mister Longbottom," Dumbledore said, "and one I have considered myself. It is not the same. The likelihood of recovery is much higher in his case, I would say."

Neville's face falling in disappointment did not escape the other students in the room. "I figured. Thanks, Professor. We'll get going."

"Indeed. It would not do for you to be out too long past curfew," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "and I know how careful you all are about adhering to curfew."

They nodded sheepishly and exited, Ginny leading Harry with her.

.

.

When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the three cognizant second years stepped through the portrait, looking back to Ginny. She stopped, still grasping Harry's forearm. "Is it all right if I meet you all in a bit? I… need to show Harry something."

"Ginny," Ron said, a row already brewing, "it's already past curfew. Besides, I dunno if we should leave you alone with Harry considering."

Her eyes went wide, almost frantically. "C-considering what?"

"That you'd probably snog him even if he's not bloody responding the first chance you got."

"O-oh," Ginny replied, then realized what he'd said and flushed crimson. "Stop it, you great big prat! I-I wouldn't!"

"Really? Not even a bit?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows in a mock suggestive manner.

Thankfully, Hermione interrupted before this situation could get even weirder. "Honestly Ronald, leave her alone. Ginny, you really should come in, you know how unsafe it is to be out on your own. Besides, you look exhausted. It's been a tough day, you should rest."

Ginny looked to Neville for help, but found nothing but a slight smile and a shake of his head. She sighed and grumbled, leaving Harry and marching past them to the girls' dorms. Neville stepped down and took him instead. Ron and Hermione looked to make for bed, but Neville raised a hand and beckoned them to the empty table where they'd left their books.

"Things have changed," Neville began. "We've got to be more careful now. Way more careful. Malfoy's git of a father is Headmaster and if he's like every other Slytherin, he'll be lenient on those out to get Harry. I know all of us have taken at least one detention hexing the pants off some snake who thought they could go after him while he's like this. We might have to do it again."

Ron and Hermione looked to each other, then to Neville and nodded. "Furthermore, someone is attacking students and they're after Muggleborns—" he glanced at Hermione, "—and so-called blood traitors, which makes all of us possibles. We're going to have to take turns with map duty again. This person is ruthless, violent, and worst of all, they're someone we probably know."

Ron gasped. "How is that possible?"

"It's simple. The map hasn't shown any unusual names. I double-checked and they're all Hogwarts students or staff."

"That's not right," Hermione interjected. "We have and you told us not to worry about it, remember? What was that about?"

"Yeah," Neville said. "I checked that. It was a former student, a dead one at that. He was killed years ago by Sirius Black after he betrayed Harry's parents. The map flashes his name sometimes, but I've tracked down the dot and no one is ever there. The people who made the map were pranksters, I'm sure it's some kind of joke on people who use the map."

"If you say so…"

"Besides, we haven't seen his dot yet this year. It can't be him. It has to be someone else."

"I know this might sound crazy," Ron began, "but what about Professor Lockhart?"

Neville was obviously skeptical. "Professor Lockhart? Really?"

"Yeah—and don't look at me like that, I'm serious! I overheard Snape—"

"Professor Snape, Ronald."

"—talking," he continued, ignoring Hermione, "to the Headmaster about Professor Lockhart looking suspicious, disappearing at odd times and acting strangely. It could be him!"

"Do you really think Lockhart is the Heir of Slytherin?"

Ronald tried to digest this, but didn't have a good response. Lockhart really didn't look like he belonged in Slytherin. He started getting frustrated and tensed, his brow furrowing. "Well, I haven't heard any better ideas!"

"Hey, Ron, relax, same team here," Neville assuaged. "I'm just pointing out the facts. We won't get anywhere by fighting each other. All we can do is watch and wait. Here's what we'll do."

Neville paused and withdrew three pieces of parchment, tapping the bottom two with his wand as he placed them on the table and beginning to write with his quill. The bottom two pages reflected the writing on the top one, like carbon paper. "If we're not in class, someone has to be watching the Map. We also have to double up on Harry duty, at least two people with him," he said, then smiled weakly. "No more Ginny alone with Harry."

"Thank Merlin."

"Ron."

"Hysterical. Really, you two, can we focus?"

They at least had the temerity to pretend to be embarrassed.

"We should keep an eye on a few suspects for the Heir in particular. Who do we think it could be?"

"Wait!" Hermione cried, "What about Malfoy?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "I don't think Draco is really capable of—"

"Not Draco Malfoy. What about Lucius Malfoy? He wasn't here tonight, but what if that was just to establish an alibi? I read that he got out of an Azkaban sentence by claiming the Imperius Curse was used on him, but what if he used the Imperius on someone else and made them petrify Mrs. Norris and the twins?"

"…and then use the Board of Governors to get him into the castle right under everyone's noses, and steal the Headmaster position at that. Hermione, you're a genius!"

She chose that moment to find the wood in the table quite interesting. "Thanks, Ron. What do you think, Neville?"

Neville tapped his fingers against the table aimlessly, pondering. "It's a thought. A damn good one at that, excellent work Hermione. What's he doing right now, Ron?"

Ron pulled the map from his robes and placed it on the table, reciting the password, and scanned it for the name in question. "There! He's there, I guess that's his office now…"

At that, Neville started chuckling uncontrollably, clutching his sides. The others stared at him, then each other, trying to figure out what just happened.

"Mate, are you all right?"

"It… it's fine," he managed, taking a few breaths to recollect himself, "just remembered something funny. Don't worry about it."

Neville's sense of humor hadn't evaporated from the heat of stress. No, it was the realization that Malfoy's new office was the room Harry had kept Theodore Nott locked in for nearly a month. A snake pen indeed!

Harry's lips lightly twitched. He saw it, too.

"It's been a long day, mate. I think you've cracked. C'mon, let's get some rest. We've got work to do."

"You haven't even done your DADA homework yet, have you Ronald?"

"Bedtime, 'Mione, Lockhart will bloody well keep."

"Fine," she huffed, but only half-heartedly. She liked the nickname. "Just don't expect my help… Ron."

"Hey!"

Harry blinked, then closed his eyes.