Chapter 12: Harry's Resolution
Early the next morning, Severus Snape left his office for the staff meeting, a pile of essays under his arm. He was in a bad mood. He had been up late testing the bludger for signs of dark – or Dark – magic, on Dumbledore's orders. He had found nothing, and he was rather annoyed that Potter was deemed incapable of being injured unless there was some sinister motive behind it. It was Quidditch, he was bound to be injured every so often! Couldn't people just accept that? He hadn't thought it a good idea to actually say that out loud of course. He wasn't an idiot.
As he surfaced from the dungeons, gliding over to the staircase, he stopped dead at the sight of another of the blazing messages carved into the wall. There was a body underneath it.
Dropping the essays, he dashed over, and sank to his knees in horror at the sight of Zacharias Smith's mangled body. There was a large pool of dried blood surrounding the boy's body. He looked up at the message, a scowl darkening his face as he read it.
One down. But I would dig a mass grave; it will save you time later on…
Snape snarled in rage, and flicked his wand. A silver shape darted out of the tip, flying up the stairs to Dumbledore. He then levitated the body, and set off for the Hospital Wing.
Dumbledore sank into a chair in despair. This was the worst that could have happened. The list of injuries that Poppy was reading out was staggering: broken neck, broken ribs – that had punctured the boys lungs – an arm and a leg showed signs of magical healing, suggesting they had broken as well, and massive internal bleeding. Smith had died alone and in agony, and he had no idea why or how.
He stared at the body blankly, picturing the Minister's reaction to the news that a student had been killed. There would be an inquiry, almost certainly, and how was he to explain that he believed Voldemort to be behind it somehow? He couldn't' offer proof; he knew for a fact that the Dark Lord was nowhere near Hogwarts, but equally could detect no sign of any of other Dark wizards. Hagrid would be arrested for sure, and there was a possibility that he would be removed from his position. Armando Dippet had been removed very soon after the Chamber of Secrets had last been opened, the last time a student had died in suspicious circumstances at the school. Dumbledore desperately hoped that he would be allowed to stay on; teaching had been his life since his twenties, and he didn't know what else he could do. And all modesty aside, he couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to do anything about the Heir of Slytherin at present.
While Albus planned his political manoeuvres, Pomona Sprout arrived, pale with shock at the news of her students death. She listened intently while Poppy went over the list of injuries again, and her eyes were blazing with rage by the end. She did not look impressed by Dumbledore's platitudes, and walked away in disgust while he was still speaking, a mark of near mutiny from the jovial woman. Dumbledore almost pitied the Heir then. Hufflepuffs were generally seen as fairly placid, and rather unintelligent. But when they banded together to protect their own, then you needed to be worried. They were even more loyal than the stereotypical Gryffindor.
With a sigh, and a final look at Zacharias, Dumbledore left to prepare his announcement to the school at breakfast. Many would already have worked out what must have happened through the message on the wall.
Dumbledore was right. The message had attracted a great deal of attention from those who had gone to breakfast early, who had in turn gathered their housemates. The arrival of Hufflepuff house with black armbands only confirmed the already widespread rumours. He surveyed the student body as they took their seats, looking up at the staff in fear. With a sigh, he climbed to his feet to give the announcement, and a hush fell across the hall.
"I am sure that many of you will have seen the warning engraved by the Grand Staircase, and that you will have drawn your own conclusions. It is my sad duty to inform you that early this morning, Zacharias Smith, a second year of Hufflepuff house, was found dead at that same place. He had not been killed by the supposed monster, but had fallen – or been thrown – from the staircase. He died of his injuries, which were grievous indeed.
I urge any of you with any information regarding this tragedy to come forward; all information will be treated confidentially. It has not escaped my attention that there is a certain amount of support for this Heir of Slytherin; I can only hope that Zacharias' death will serve to dispel this misguided belief. This murderer has only shown that they have no regard for human life at all. Zacharias was not muggleborn, or even a halfblood. There was no reason for his death other than sheer callousness and viciousness."
Dumbledore looked around the room, as if he could sense the Heir's guilt. Few people met his eye. Many Hufflepuff students had their heads bowed, staring at their plates in sorrow for their fallen classmate. A few students here and there had carefully blank faces, obviously concealing the fact that they didn't really care about dead students. He would certainly be keeping an eye on them. He skimmed over Harry quickly; the boy's gaze was accusatory, questioning, and it made Dumbledore feel more uncomfortable than he would want to admit.
"There will be a team of Aurors arriving today to take over the investigation. Lack of co-operation will likely be treated with suspicion, so for your own sakes, if nothing else, treat them with respect.
Do not forget Zacharias Smith. Honour him."
He raised his goblet in a toast, and the students followed his example, murmuring his name.
Dumbledore stared across his desk at the Ministry representative. She was a squat, toad-like woman who he vaguely recognised from meetings with the Minister. His secretary or something, if he remembered correctly. He couldn't help but feel that she was grossly inappropriate to lead a murder investigation. A frilly pink cardigan and a bow in your hair did not conjure an image of full professionalism. She was reviewing the notes she had made during his recap of the events of Halloween and the following weeks.
"I must say Professor, I am somewhat curious as to why you did not inform the Ministry of the re-opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Some might believe you were attempting to cover it up."
"I assure you Madame…"
The woman's eyes flickered in irritation, but she smiled brightly.
"Umbridge. Delores Umbridge, senior undersecretary to the Minister, attached to the Aurors. We have met."
"Of course, I apologise, the rigours of age. I'm sure you understand… But I assure you, I would never try to keep anything from the Minister. I value our working relationship a great deal."
Umbridge fixed him with a pointed glare, but Dumbledore had been stared at a great deal in his life, and his poker face was second only to Severus Snape.
"Be that as it may… The fact that you have kept this secret could lead to questions about your commitment to the students safety."
The candles flickered in the sudden wind. Fawkes squawked as Dumbledore's eyes began to flicker with anger and power, and Umbridge sat back in her chair.
"Madame Umbridge, I would never endanger any of my students knowingly. I resent the implication most strongly."
"I – I was speaking only hypothetically Headmaster. I of course know that your dedication remains undimmed."
"Good."
The two stared at each other for another moment. Umbridge broke first, turning back to her notes and shuffling them nervously.
"Hem-hem… I understand that the culprit was caught the last time the Chamber was opened. I haven't been informed of what happened to them though. Could you enlighten me?"
"Rubeus was employed by Hogwarts, and still is."
"Rubeus?"
"Hagrid, the groundskeeper. I personally do not believe he ever had anything to do with the matter."
Umbridge stared at him incredulously.
"I'm sorry… He is still employed at the school? Even now, when the Chamber has been re-opened? Who else could it possibly be?"
"I personally think that the recent occurrences are the result of an enchantment placed on the Chamber the last time it was opened. The true culprit is… indisposed."
"What do you mean the true culprit?"
"Tom Riddle. More infamously known as Lord Voldemort."
She flinched, violently.
"Do not say his name! You mean that he was – "
"He was at the school at the time, and he claimed to have caught Hagrid in the act. I know which one I would trust more."
"Well yes, when you put it like that… But it can't be You-Know-Who, he's dead."
"But his magic could live on. An enchantment placed on the Chamber, time-activated, would explain everything. He had no family to continue his work, that is certain."
"And I don't suppose you've caught any trace of such an enchantment?"
"If I had, then Zacharias Smith would likely still be alive."
"Very well. We will be questioning the students of course, and the staff. Veritaserum will be used if necessary."
"Madame Umbridge – "
"No Professor. We will do whatever is necessary to stop this, no matter what you might say. That is by order of the Minister himself."
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak once more, but Umbridge had already risen from her chair to leave.
"May you be guided and protected by the light always Headmaster. Lux Aeternam."
Dumbledore blinked at the ancient blessing, and stifled a groan. Of all the people he could have sent, Fudge had picked a Light fundamentalist. Half the school would oppose her on principle, whether they knew anything or not.
Harry and his friends sat in silence in their common room. Classes had been cancelled for the day while the Aurors conducted preliminary investigations. Harry was feeling… strange. They had all been shocked by the news, but Harry had not expected to feel this upset about it. He hadn't really known Zacharias; the pale boy had shown up every so often, said something mysterious and then disappeared. It was hardly the basis for a long-lasting friendship. He stood up. Ron looked up at him.
"Harry? Where're you going?"
"I want to see him."
"Who?"
"Smith. I want to see his body."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. I – I just need to see it."
A look of concern passed across Hermione's face at Harry's statement.
"Harry, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Half the school thinks you're responsible for this Harry, going to see his body might not be the smartest thing you've ever done."
Harry stared at her, before nodding.
"True. But… I dunno, I just feel like I owe it to him you know? I can't explain why."
Before any of them could say anything further, he had turned and left the common room. Neville stood up.
"I'm going after him. You know what Dumbledore said about going round the school on your own."
Harry and Neville walked quietly over to the bed, where Zacharias Smith's body lay, covered in a white sheet. Madame Pomfrey had been reluctant to let them in, but fortunately Dumbledore had been there finalising arrangements for moving the body back home, and had vouched for them both. The Hospital Wing felt even more dismal than usual. It even seemed darker, as if there was a cloud over them. Harry pulled back the sheet, and they both gasped in shock. Zacharias' body was a horrific sight. Harry swore softly to himself, and Neville turned away.
"Why are you here Harry? You don't owe him anything, you barely knew him."
"He tried to warn me Nev. He told me something was going to happen, and I ignored him."
Neville looked at Harry, trying to work out what was on his friends mind.
"Well, maybe, but it isn't your responsibility Harry. You're a student, you should leave it to Dumbledore and the others."
"But I didn't even tell them. I haven't told them anything, and maybe if I had done then he'd be alive."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"How do you know that I am being? He fixed on me as someone important, he kept warning me about things that were going to happen. He relied on me, and I let him down."
"He was crazy, you thought so yourself! So what if he did, he never actually told you anything really useful did he? You said the last time you spoke all he said was that it was too late. What goods that?"
"Maybe he was just doing the best he could. He thought I could do something about whatever's happening, and I've basically just tried to ignore everything. I hid in my room, I didn't trust Dumbledore, I didn't even pluck up the courage to face that little git MacMillan. What kind of hero am I Nev?"
Neville stared at his friend in silence, unable to think of anything to say.
"He tried to help me, ever since I got here. He told me something was going to happen before the Forbidden Forest remember? Merlin knows why or how, but he tried to help me from the moment we met. I owe him Nev. I really do. And I can pay it back by avenging him."
"But why does it have to be you?"
Harry kept his gaze on Zacharias. He couldn't say why it had to be him personally who stopped the Heir. Not aloud. In the privacy of his own head, he could admit that he wanted revenge on Voldemort, a conscious revenge, not something he had no control over. And stopping the Heir himself would certainly stop the hostility that had been directed towards him ever since Halloween. Neville might understand that, but he would never agree to it.
There was a noise behind him. Cedric Diggory was standing at the door, a curious expression on his face. Almost pitying. Harry met his eyes, waiting for him to say something.
"Did you really mean all that Potter?"
"Don't you know it's rude to listen to people's private conversations?"
Cedric made a dismissive gesture, as if there was something far more important to think about.
"But you really meant it. About avenging him."
Harry glared at him.
"I'm not in the habit of breaking my promises Diggory, even when the people they concern can't be aware of them."
Diggory smiled gently.
"I never really believed you were the Heir Potter. Not your style. I've tried my best to get people to listen, but my influence in the House only goes so far. They'd much rather have someone they can actually hate than worry about some nameless and faceless psycho. And when some of the victim's friends are naming you as the culprit… We are maybe too loyal sometimes."
Harry nodded, a steely glint coming into his eye.
"What about that legendary sense of fair-play? There was something wrong with that bludger, which a pair of little birds have suggested might be to do with your Beaters."
Diggory glared himself, although Harry could tell that he was imagining that other people were in front of him at that point.
"There's always a few idiots Potter."
Harry smiled coldly, reminding Neville of the previous evening, when they had discussed the bludger attack. It sent a shiver down his spine.
"Don't tell them I know will you Cedric?"
Diggory studied the younger boy for a moment, before shaking his head.
"Sorry, but I'm not that angry with them. I saw what you did to Lockhart. They deserve some warning."
Harry scowled, and for a moment, barely a second, his eyes blurred and stung, as if there was something in them. He blinked swiftly, and everything was back to normal. Diggory didn't seem to have noticed. He shrugged to cover his confusion.
"It's all the warning they'll get."
Diggory grinned at the younger boy's confidence – at his arrogance – before gesturing to the body behind the two Gryffindors, his smile falling from his face.
"I'll do what I can about getting the other 'Puffs to lay off you, but it won't be easy. Not after this. The whole House is just itching for someone to blame. The fact that Madame Pomfrey let you in here means something to me. It might not to them though."
"Then tell them that Dumbledore vouched for Harry before he came in." said Neville softly. Diggory blinked in surprise. He seemed to have forgotten that Neville was there.
"I will. See you around Potter."
None of them moved. Diggory cleared his throat, sounding impatient for the first time.
"I would like to pay my respects by myself thank you. If you're done of course."
The two Gryffindors left the Hospital Wing, silently considering everything that had been said.
Hermione looked up as the portrait door. She was pleased to see that Harry looked calmer than he had done when he left. Ron was trying to cheer Ginny up with a game of chess. He may have been more successful if he hadn't been beating her so soundly. Ginny looked unusually angry at this; she usually took defeat (in chess at least) in her stride. Hermione nudged them both, pointing out their friends return. Ron waved casually to them both, before moving into a checkmate with unseemly glee. Ginny threw her pieces down, muttering under her breath.
Harry and Neville sat down, telling the others what had happened with Cedric. Harry said nothing of his resolution, and Neville followed his lead for the moment. They were delighted by this turn of events, although Ginny's excitement was curiously muted. They sat there for a while longer, taking the opportunity to relax while they could. It had only been two weeks since the start of term, not even February yet, and already so much had happened. Eventually Ginny got up to leave, looking for food with her classmates. As she did so, something fell out of her bag. Harry reached over to grab out, calling out to her. It appeared to be a diary.
He froze as he touched it. The power was tangible, calling to mind the sensation he felt by the river where the Prewitt brothers had fallen. The remnants of the Killing Curse.
The diary was evil.
Harry screamed as his fingertips began to blacken, smoke rising where he was touching it. His eyes began to glow, faintly. Ginny began to scream as well, and whipped out her wand, flicking it savagely in his direction. The diary flew towards her, and with a second flick of her wand Harry was sent soaring over the couch to land on a desk, which shattered under the impact. His head groggy, he looked up to see Ron, Neville and Hermione shouting at her unintelligibly, their own wands raised. Ginny snarled at them, her eyes flashing. Wait. Her red eyes? She flicked her wand again, and another couch flew upwards, battering the three friends to the ground. Hopping over the remaining seat, Ginny – or whoever was using her body, because this plainly wasn't Ginny – pointed her wand at Harry. With a vicious grin she cast a spell on him, and for the second time in his life, Harry screamed under the Cruciatus curse. A piercing bell began to sound, and Ginny looked up, still snarling. She ran to the portrait door, the other Gryffindors cowering away from her, as Harry blacked out once again.
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