Looking Beyond: Chapter Twenty-Five: Midnight Wanderings and Accusations

It was a full moon tonight. Hope leaned her elbows on the stone railing that overlooked Hogwarts' vast land, staring up at bright star-filled sky. The stars always seemed to shine brighter when the full moon was out, but it was far easier to star-gaze when the moon wasn't out. She sighed longingly, flexing her stiff wrists. She assumed the stiffness had to do with the blood poisoning from flashing, but, even though Madam Pomfrey had told her to come back to her if she ever felt anything out of place, Hope didn't want to spend longer than she had to in that hospital ward.

Her leg tingled slightly as she twitched it, but like the whole day, she felt no pain, and that, all by itself, was liberating. The leg still had tremors every so often, but Hope had been assured that that was a passing thing.

And sleep was not coming easily to her this night, so she had opted to wander around in the night, knowing the patrols like she did (one could not wander around Hogwarts at night without knowing the patrols). It was not uncommon for her to do so, not to say that she was an insomniac, just someone who was fascinated by the castle. Wandering about at night or at day was something Hope Potter was becoming renowned for; earning the respect of the Weasley Twins who considered anything that involved breaking rules to be a plus.

The patrols were something wandering students always had to be on the lookout for, but Hope had once actually mapped out a timetable for when each patrol passed a certain sector, taking into account the possibility for being ahead of time or being behind. Single patrols were always teachers and double patrols were always prefects or the Head Boy and Girl. The next one wasn't due to pass by her for another ten minutes, so she was a little surprised when she heard the sound of patient footsteps. Patient single footsteps. This was remarkably strange as the next patrol that was due to pass was one that was made of students, not of teachers.

She didn't even have time to hide when the owner of the footsteps stepped into the corridor, and Hope couldn't help but be surprised by who they belonged to.

It was just a girl.

Her eyes were closed and her blonde straggly hair swung back and forth with every movement she made. Hope had thought that her gait was rather strange, but that was until she realized the girl was sleepwalking.

"Hey…" she nudged the girl, but she didn't respond until Hope gave her a sharp jab in the cheek, and then a pair of silvery-blue eyes fluttered open.

"Oh, hello," the girl said dreamily.

"Hello," Hope said, a little nonplussed. "You were sleepwalking."

"Was I?" she asked in bemusement. "I do that quite a lot. It's why I wear my shoes to bed, you see."

Hope looked down as the girl wiggled her toes in her bright red converses.

"Okay…" Hope looked at her oddly. "Do you need some help getting back to your common room?"

"Oh, yes, please," she said in a vague voice, "that would be lovely."

"What's your house?" Hope asked, her eyes taking in the bottle-cap necklace she was wearing over her dressing gown with curiosity.

"Ravenclaw."

"That's only a floor up," Hope mused, looking off into the distance. "The next patrol up there doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, so come on."

Luna Lovegood recognized Hope Potter as all did upon seeing the scar that marred the flesh of her forehead. She was surprised that the older girl was out late, but then, she apparently had a reputation for bending the rules. She walked with a slight limp, she noticed, and her housemates had said it was from a Muggle automobile accident that had required her to use a cane for assistance in walking until this year.

"What's your name?" the Gryffindor called back to her as they ascended a tight spiral staircase.

"Luna Lovegood," Luna said airily.

"Hope." She didn't mention her last name, Luna noticed.

Luna tilted her head, gazing at her. "Did you like my little warning?"

Hope's footsteps stuttered at her question and she glanced back to the blonde. "So it was you."

"Yes," Luna said dreamily. "I overheard some Slytherins talking about it and thought you might like to know."

"That's…" Hope struggled to find the right word before settling on "nice."

"It is, isn't it?" Luna said with a beaming smile as they came onto the landing before the Ravenclaw common room. "How do you know where the Ravenclaw common room is?" Most Houses hardly interacted with one another.

A smile twitched her lips slightly. "I know a few guys that are all about knowing shortcuts."

"Ah!" Luna said brightly, coming to a stop before the bronze knocker that was shaped like an eagle.

Upon their arrival, its mouth opened and it spouted a riddle, much to Hope's amusement and surprise.

"At night they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?"

Luna thought hard for a few moments, but this one stumped her. "I don't know."

"The stars," Hope intoned dully beside her to her surprise.

"Well said," the knocker agreed, swinging open to reveal the common room.

"See you, Luna," Hope called lightly as she disappeared down the stairs.

Luna watched her until she had vanished completely in the shadows, before she skipped back into her common room once more.

Luna Lovegood was a strange one, Hope thought as she ducked behind a suit of armour so that the passing Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater wouldn't see her. She seemed to have a permanent expression of surprise on her face, accentuated by high arching eyebrows and wide eyes. Her company wasn't unpleasant, though, despite how short and to the point it was. It was refreshing for Hope to be around someone who wasn't like her friends from Gryffindor.

Still, Luna had her respect for that little stunt she pulled with the warning, whether it was needed or not.

The next few weeks passed slowly for Hope, much to her eternal annoyance. Lockhart was making her completely miserable, and had somehow managed to forget that she'd knocked him in the family jewels not too long ago. Hope had never been so close to killing anyone ever, not even Snape (very surprising, she had to admit, given their history), until this year.

Gilderoy Lockhart was a very trying individual, that was the least she could say about him. The most she could say was: trying, egotistical, self-centred, arrogant, narcissistic cock, and even that wasn't close to the number of adjectives she could use to describe him. Hope had taken to ducking into spare rooms, whether they were in use or not, just to hide from him. She had once popped into Professor McGonagall's fourth year class, surprisingly not being given detention or a loss of points afterwards, mostly because Professor McGonagall was much too humoured to give her a punishment for "looking out for your own well-being."

Lockhart wasn't the only thing that was making her miserable. The blood poisoning was proving quite difficult for her to manage that even Ron and Hermione had noticed the sheen of light gray that clung to her skin. She had headaches almost constantly and her wrists were much stiffer than they had been weeks ago.

"Ow!"

Hope clapped her hands to her head, wincing in pain and eyeing Madam Pomfrey as though she was the enemy. "Do you have to jab so hard?"

"Perhaps I wouldn't if you had come in here the second you felt any pain," Madam Pomfrey in a surprisingly mild voice as a soft blue mist escaped the tip of her wand, surrounding Hope in a cloud of azure.

"Is she alright?" Hermione asked, heavily concerned for her friend, who was now literally on "Cloud Nine," if the loud sneeze inside it was anything to go off of.

"Hope has an abnormally high pain tolerance," Madam Pomfrey admitted, "but I can assure you, she is most certainly not alright."

The cloud cleared in a snap, leaving a very disgruntled Hope Potter behind in its wake. She crossed her arms in annoyance, her cheeks a faint pink in embarrassment.

"How did she get sick?" Ron asked curiously, ignoring how his friend huffed at them for talking about her right in front of as if she wasn't there, or at least couldn't understand them. It was how one might treat a child, and Hope was most certainly not a child, at least, in her mind.

Madam Pomfrey glanced over her patient minutely. Hope hadn't wanted to tell her friends in the first place why she was a "little" sick because she'd known that they would worry, but Madam Pomfrey wondered if she shouldn't just tell them anyways and save her the trouble.

"Hope has a bit of blood poisoning from her…'Flashing' as she calls it," Madam Pomfrey admitted as Hope glared darkly at her. "Prolonged usage would be inadvisable."

Ron blanched. It was, after all, his idea to Flash to Hogwarts. If he'd known, he wouldn't have even suggested it in the first place!

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

"I didn't know about at the time," Hope snapped in irritation. "I only just found out about it the night of the day we Flashed here."

Ron took a step back slightly; it was never a good thing when Hope got mad, her temper was phenomenal.

"Be nice," Madam Pomfrey chided as she held out a thin bottle filled with a purple liquid that earned her an apprehensive look from her patient. "The poison is building up in your body; this will cause it to thin out and relieve the pain and stiffness you are currently feeling.

"Yay!" Hope cheered without much emotion.

"And I think you should stay in here while it spreads through your body," Madam Pomfrey said, "I can send for some food to be sent up here if you like."

"But its Halloween!" Ron complained, however, Hermione's attention was on Hope's face which looked strangely put-out.

"Can we eat up here with Hope?" she asked suddenly, drawing three pairs of eyes to her instantly (she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the attention).

Ron looked like he was going to protest one minute, but then he changed his mind. "Yeah, Madam Pomfrey, can we?"

Madam Pomfrey looked between the three of their faces, taking in the pleading eyes of Hermione and Ron and the dumbfounded one of Hope. She sighed, honestly, the things she did for this troublesome group of second years.

"Only, and only, if Hope stays on that bed and the three of you try not to make much of a mess." She gave them a severe look that Hope had sometimes been on the receiving end of by Professor McGonagall. "Alright?"

"Yes!" the three second years promised quickly, and within minutes, they were tucking into a rather lavish dinner in the hospital wing. It was nice for them to be on their own for once, without everyone else making noise around them…sometimes some peace and quiet was very much desired.

The food, of course, was delicious as always, and their plates kept refilling themselves once they were cleaned. Hope hadn't eaten so much in days, due to her painfully throbbing head, but now she was happy to eat to her heart's content.

Hope and Hermione didn't have too much difficulty following Madam Pomfrey's instructions, but Ron had always been a little bit of a messy eater, so that caused a few problems, though not very many. A mild cleaning charm erased the small mess from existence once they had all finished and Madam Pomfrey had checked over Hope again to make sure the potion was working, which it was, and then she sent them all on their way.

"That was a nice of her, to let us eat up there with you," Hermione said as they descended the staircase.

Hope shrugged her shoulders. "That's Poppy for you." Her grin widened at the uncomfortable cough Hermione gave at her use of the woman's first name. Hope ran a finger over the wall as they walked; tracing over the rough ridges and gorges of the stone, and it was then that she heard the voice that had long plagued her thoughts.

"…rip…tear…kill…"

Her feet firmly glued to the ground where she stood, quite unable to move. She pressed her hand more firmly into the wall, as if she would be able to feel the vibrations of the voice, and then she pressed her ear to the wall.

"Hope?" Ron was eyeing her curiously. "What're you—?"

"Shut up, Ron," she hissed, straining her ears so she might listen more closely, "the voice, I can hear it again, it's back."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks that Hope couldn't see, but they clearly thought something was amiss, because they couldn't hear anything.

"…so hungry…for so long…"

Her ear was going to bruise by how hard she was pushing it into the wall, listening intently.

"…kill…time to kill…"

The voice was growing fainter with every word…heading up the stairs. Hope rushed after it, running through the Entrance Hall and then up to the First Floor, following it as fast as her weak legs could carry her.

"Hope, where are we going?" Hermione yelled from behind her as she and Ron raced after their friend.

Hope only made a shushing motion at them.

"…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!"

The voice was quite loud now and was echoing in her ears, making her stomach roil as the soles of her shoes slapped against the floor. She didn't stop running until they'd reached a deserted corridor that Hope didn't recognize and then she froze up completely.

What was that…hanging from the torch bracket?

"What was that all about?" Ron complained between pants for breath, bracing his hands against his knees. "I can't believe you can run that fast…" He didn't seem to have noticed how strangely quiet Hope was being, until Hermione gasped beside him, pointing up at the wall.

"Look…oh my—"

The shining letters were illuminated by the ominous glow of the torchlight.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that…is that Mrs. Norris?" Ron balked, gazing in horror at the cat that was hanging beneath the message like an immovable shadow. It was indeed Mrs. Norris, and she was staring ahead with unblinking, glazed eyes.

Hope could feel the bile rising in her throat as she stepped away, the water soaking through her shoes. She could feel Ron's hand on her elbow, keeping her upright as she stumbled over her own feet.

"Let's get out of here," Ron said tersely, glancing down the corridor but seeing no one.

"Why?" Hope asked blankly. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"No," Ron said seriously, "trust me; we don't want to be found here. We should leave."

But it was too late for that, the distant sounds of the rest of the school leaving the Great Hall could be heard echoing through the hall. If only Hope could have used her flashing…but then reality rained on her parade. The noise, however, abruptly faded at the sight of Hope, Ron, and Hermione standing in the middle of the hall and the sight of Mrs. Norris and the words she was lying under.

And then there was a shout, a shout that stirred anger within Hope. "Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next Mudbloods!"

Draco Malfoy seemed to take great pleasure at the sight of Mrs. Norris' body. Ron tightened his hand around her elbow in case she felt the need to sock the arrogant Pure-blood in the face, which, she had to admit, she was nursing the desire to do.

"I'm going to kill him," she hissed under her breath so that only Ron and Hermione could hear her.

"Not where there are witnesses."

Hope blinked and stared at Hermione as if she'd never quite seen her properly, and the girl gave her a barely perceptible wink. Apparently the word was still affecting her negatively, as it should.

Filch's voice could be heard coming through the crowd, and Hope gave a mental wince. Everyone in Hogwarts (meaning the professors, students and ghosts…just to name a few) knew of Filch's deep affection for his cat, and Hope could guess that he wouldn't take her condition well.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he screeched upon catching sight of Hope standing the nearest to the feline. "You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"

Hope opened her mouth, an affronted expression plastered onto her face, but she didn't have enough time to defend herself before a voice interrupted her.

"Argus!"

It was Dumbledore. In a matter of seconds he had removed the cat.

Hope's heart beat against her ribs when Dumbledore spoke again. "Come with me, Argus. You too Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

He couldn't possibly think that she was one that killed Mrs. Norris, did he? She, Ron, and Hermione were just in the wrong place at the wrong time! So, she and her friends followed the headmaster and a selective number of teachers into Lockhart's room, feeling as though all the eyes were on her as they moved through the crowd.

Hope sank into the nearest seat and Ron and Hermione followed suit. Hope tugged subconsciously on her earlobe as if believing that would cause the voice to leave her mind, but it hadn't. She sighed tiredly, tapping a finger against her left temple.

Dumbledore was inspecting the cat closely, his face bent so close that his crooked nose was probably being tickled by the long hairs of Mrs. Norris' fur. Hope couldn't help but wonder how a closer look was going to make a difference; Mrs. Norris was still going to be dead.

Filch was inconsolable, and Lockhart wasn't making it any better with his comments. "It was definitely a curse that killed her –probably the Transmogrifian Torture– I've seen it used I've seen it used many times, so unlucky that I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…"

A very obvious snort came from Hope's general direction, but instead of being told off by Professor McGonagall, who had looked up at the noise, she gave her the barest of smiles.

What Hope really wanted was for Lockhart to shut up, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen any time soon. He really had no understanding of other people, did he? His orders were only making Filch sob worse.

"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogao, a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…"

Hope rolled her eyes at Ron who was staring at their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor like he was out of the world, and not in a good way.

"She's not dead Argus," Dumbledore said finally straightening up from his examination.

"Not dead?" Filch's voice was high and shaking from his tears. "But why's she all –all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been petrified," said Dumbledore, making Hope frown. Petrification was rare, it had been more common in the sixteenth century than any other century of magical history, not counting the instances in Ancient Egypt and Greece that were only partially recorded (hello, fascinated with ancient Egypt and Greece). There were very few creatures that could petrify, as it was a "natural talent" and the closest anyone had ever gotten to replicating it with a spell was with the Petrificus Totalus spell. "But how, I cannot say…"

"Ask her!"

Hope blinked owlishly as all the attention was turned on her. She arched an eyebrow in incredulity.

"No second year could have done this," Dumbledore said with certainty, his eyes drifting over to where Hope sat. Her hands were folded together and her back was straight, perfect posture…he'd seen James Potter display that same posture only once, and that was the only time he and his best friend had been in serious trouble…it was an impressive replication for one who had never seen it in person.

"She did it! She did it! You saw what she wrote on that wall!" Filch shrieked, jabbing a finger at Hope who stood up angrily.

"I never go down that corridor and I'm not even close to being tall enough to write that message!" Hope snapped heatedly.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," Snape spoke with his silky voice, making Hope's eyebrow twitch (as it always did when he spoke in that voice that said he had no praises for her…which was all the time, now that she thought about it). "Potter and her friends may have may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was she in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't she at the Halloween feast?"

Hope's mouth snapped shut and a distinctly pissed off expression clouded her eyes. Hope was very private about her visits to the hospital wing; most times she didn't even tell Ron and Hermione when she was dropping by. Snape would have to rip out her tongue first before she admitted to being in the hospital wing.

Her fingers curled into balled up fists.

"Well?" he prompted with sneer.

Before Hope had the opportunity to advise him on a perfect place to shove his wand, Hermione and Ron had slapped their hands over her mouth, smothering the words.

"I suggest, Headmaster," Snape said slowly, taking in the hateful glare Hope was throwing his way, "that Potter is not being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if she were deprived of certain privileges until she is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel she should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until she is ready to be honest."

"Ooo ud!" Hope said behind the two hands over her mouth.

"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall interrupted swiftly, her eyebrows drawn together in irritation, "I see no reason to stop the girl from playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

"And there won't be any," Hope added, finally wrestling Ron and Hermione's hands from her face. "Because I didn't do anything!"

"Innocent until proven guilty," Dumbledore said with a slight nod to McGonagall.

That didn't seem to please Snape or Filch, but there was little that could be done. Hope and her friends hadn't done anything wrong, and so Hope, Ron, and Hermione found themselves being escorted back to the common room by their Head of House. Ron and Hermione were quite silent about the whole thing and Hope was very tight-lipped. So Professor McGonagall held her back as the others entered the common room.

"Miss Potter, next time you are questioned, perhaps it would be best to just say you were in the hospital wing," Professor McGonagall said dryly.

Hope scoffed lightly, digging her hands into her pockets, looking particularly rebellious. "It's none of anyone's business what I do in my spare time."

"Potter!" Lily seethed. "It doesn't matter if I was with Sev, its none of your business what I do in my spare time!"

McGonagall almost smiled as Lily Evan's daughter clamoured into the portrait hole.