A.N. "blah" is speech, blah is thoughts, ~blah~ is parseltongue
When Harry and the group of students watched the words on the wall, Filch was drawn in by all the commotion, shouldering past the crowd. He saw Mrs. Norris, staggered back covering his face in fear.
"My cat! My cat! What happened to Mrs. Norris?" He screamed, "Who killed my cat?! Who? Who did it!"
"Filch!"
Dumbledore arrived at the scene, followed by other professors. He walked past the students and let Mrs. Norris down from the torch bracket.
Dumbledore's long nose almost touching Mrs. Norris's fur, studying it closely through his half-moon glasses, slender fingers poking and prodding at the petrified animal. "I think we would need a place to examine her further," he finally said.
Lockhart rushed forward excitedly.
"My office is the closest, Headmaster—just above—you can—"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said.
The silent crowd parted to let them through. Lockhart was very excited, swaggering behind Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape followed suit.
Harry watched their leaving figures silently for a moment, then said his goodbyes to the Moaning Myrtle and returned to the dungeons.
Of course, the dungeon is empty, Snape should be with Dumbledore examining the petrified Mrs. Norris. Harry took a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom.
Sitting down in the hot tub, Harry relaxed his limbs, setting his head on the tile, thinking about what happened today.
First, the petrification. If Harry hadn't seen the diary destroyed by Grindelwald himself, then he would've thought history was really irreversible.
Then, if it's not the diary, it's clear which horcrux was behind it.
But, the point being, who was the person being manipulated?
Still Ginny? No, probably not, then, who is it?
Harry rubbed a popping vein at his temple, slowly letting out a deep breath.
And, what Lady Grey said at the Deathday party. The rune…the spell that Tom Riddle had asked about…
Harry has a feeling that he'll be very busy this year.
Snape's still not back after his bath. Seeing that it's almost ten, Harry changed into a loose white shirt and khaki cotton pants, and walked to the professor's desk. He grabbed another chair and sat down, flipped through the parchments, and took out the first year potions homework to begin marking.
Harry rubbed his half-dry hair as he studied the homework under his pen closely. The hair that was reaching his neck stayed obediently, Harry considered cutting it shorter to look fresher with a cutting spell.
It's the best option, since there don't seem to be a barber shop in the Magical World, and the wizards don't really pay attention to it, letting the hair just grow. Like Dumbledore's long white hair, Hagrid's full-blown curls, and Draco's father Lucius Malfoy's beautiful long platinum blond hair. As for the witches, it's even more simple, either having it loose, in a pony/pigtail, or into a bun. The wizards that wanted short hair just used a cutting spell to deal with it. On this matter, the wizards are far behind the muggles.
Perhaps he should ask Draco for advice, but thinking about Draco's slick-back hair, Harry shuddered, abandoning the idea. Perhaps Professor Snape's a good choice, his curtain-like hair is always cut cleanly…Harry can't help but let out a little chuckle at that thought.
I should probably wait until going back during Christmas and having it cut in the muggle world. Hope there's still a barber shop open then.
When Harry moved on to mark the second year papers, Snape finally returned.
"Professor," Harry stood and greeted him, "I took it upon myself to begin marking for you."
Snape didn't have any opposition, nodded, walked to his seat, and as he picked up another stack of papers, he said viciously, "Lockhart that imbecile!"
Harry asked quizzically, "What did he do this time?"
Snape scoffed, "We had to endure that idiot going on and on, he offered no less than twenty different opinions on the cat's situation."
"Then, is the cat dead?" Harry asked immediately.
"No, Dumbledore said it's just petrified, needs a potion with mature mandrakes to solve it," Snape explained.
Harry let out a breath of relief, it looks like that didn't change.
The, that Lockhart insisted on him preparing the potion, clearly didn't learn his lesson from last time." The professor said angrily.
Remembering back to the last time Gilderoy Lockhart was "blessed" with the concentrated itching potion, Harry's heart immediately lightened, "then, you didn't teach him another lesson?" He said happily.
"Unfortunately, I can't," The potions professor said, "Poppy told me last time, she doesn't want to see Lockhart in the infirmary for certain reasons again, since it was causing her trouble in her work."
Lockhart likes to stick his nose into other people's business, pretending to be knowledgeable, which is definitely irksome to the professionals. Harry agreed in his mind.
"Where were you tonight? I didn't see you in the hall." Snape asked suddenly, black eyes focused on Harry.
Harry shrugged, "I went with the Moaning Myrtle to the Gryffindor ghost Nick's Deathday Party. Very exciting indeed."
Seeing the boy's regretful expression, Snape nodded in acknowledgment, then reminded him, "Don't go wonder around, the school's not as safe as it might seem."
Harry nodded smiling, "I understand." Understanding is one thing, carrying it through is a whole other matter.
"Then, go sleep. I'll mark the papers."
"Good night, professor."
"…" Snape waved, didn't speak.
For the next few days, the students didn't talk about anything but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch's actions didn't let it slip from anyone's mind. He paced back and forth in the area where Mrs. Norris was attacked, as if believing the attacker would return. Even if he used "" to clean the words on the wall, they were still glistening ever so clearly on the stone walls. If Filch wasn't patrolling the crime scene, he was glaring with red eyes, hiding in the corridors, then lunging towards unsuspecting students giving them detentions for miniscule reasons such as "breathing too loud" or "playing around".
England's especially cold this year.
The training ground is filled with chill, plus the guard of at least 100 dementors, the students seldom venture out to fool around.
But, there are always exceptions. For wizards, Quidditch is where they go for crazy—it's the same for wizarding children.
So, even the day looks gloomy and is probably going to rain, the students still put on their heavy cloaks to watch the new term's Quidditch Cup commence.
Since he promised Draco he'll be there at his first game, Harry showed up for once.
Harry seldom comes to the games this time around, he spends most of his time on the endless research, sometimes even amazing himself. He used to treasure Quidditch, but now, he needs to squeeze out the limited amount of time to come watch a game. So, when he was sitting on the chaotic stands, lifting his head to watch the players fly by and cheer for the good plays, the feeling's so foreign that he has a hard time remembering.
The grey sky began to down a cold rain, Harry casted a water preventing spell, then squinted up in search for Draco.
Through the rain, the blond boy was still blinding, Harry found he chasing against the Gryffindor seeker, could it be—
Yep, the golden snitch was playfully dancing in front of them.
Harry smiled, it looks like they won't be tortured by this horrible weather for long.
Suddenly, Harry's smile froze on his face.
A black and heavy bludger suddenly charged towards the stands, aiming directly at Harry. The audience on the stands around him screamed.
Harry quickly drew his wand pointing at the incoming bludger, "Everte statum!"
The bludger paused, then charged at Harry again. Harry quickly casted an impedimenta at the ball while running down from the stands to keep the other students safe. He ran quickly, at the same time casting impediment jinxes behind him.
Every time, the bludger is simply paused for a moment, then charges at Harry once again.
Dobby, I really have to thank you for this! Harry complained to himself, running towards an empty space on the pitch. The players in the sky freaked out, staying where they were.
"Diffindo!" Harry shouted, then quickly took cover on the ground as the bludger behind him exploded into a few black pieces scattering in mid-air.
The audience cried out again, this time in rejoice.
Harry slowly got up from the ground, wiping the sweat on his forehead. At the same time, Draco caught the golden snitch, the audience began to cheer and clap.
Harry dodged the other people, jogging towards a quiet spot next to the Forbidden Forest.
"Dobby!" he shouted.
After a few seconds, with a pop, a small house elf appeared in front of him.
"Harry Potter…" The elf murmured.
"Dobby, was that your doing just now?" Harry tried to be as calm as possible.
Dobby's eyes widened, flickering, finally failing under Harry's calm gaze, "Yes…" He said quietly, dropping his head.
"Why?" Harry said slowly.
Dobby quickly lifted his head, agitated, "Harry Potter, Hogwarts is not safe! You can't stay here! You must leave! If you stay…" He suddenly stopped, as if someone was strangling him.
Harry paused, "Did your master forbid you to speak of this?"
Dobby can't speak, big eyes flickering.
"Then, is the reason the school is unsafe your master's doing?"
Dobby shook his head, and spoke, "Not Master, a madam, but Dobby's forbidden to speak her name."
Harry understood. "Bellatrix Lestrange? She was at your masters."
Dobby blinked.
"You master forbid you to say Bellatrix was there?"
Dobby didn't say anything.
"When?"
"The day before yesterday…" Dobby said quietly.
"Do you know what they said?" Harry asked.
"No, the door was locked, Dobby didn't hear. Only after the madam left angry…" Dobby shook, "Harry Potter, Dobby begs of you, leave Hogwarts!"
Harry shook his head, "Sorry, Dobby, I can't. If she comes to kill me, I'll be waiting for her." He patted Dobby's head, "Go back, Dobby, I won't be killed so easily."
When Harry returned to the dungeons, the professor was drinking a vodka espresso. His slender fingers wrapped around the glass, very prettily. That's all Harry can say.
"Where were you?" The potions professor asked after spotting Harry come in.
Harry paused, "To have a bite in the kitchen." He said lightly. If possible, he really didn't want to lie to him.
Snape lifted a brow, but didn't expose Harry's pathetic lie.
"What happened with the bludger today?"
Harry shrugged, "I don't know, probably bad luck," he said with self-mockery.
Snape set down his cup, lifting his head to gaze at Harry, deep black eyes almost drowning him.
"You…" He spoke with a low voice, rich like a cello, but his words freezing Harry's blood in an instant, "Are you hiding something?"