A/N: YAY! GUESS WHAT THIS CHAPTER LEADS UP TO! Woop woop. –dance-
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Forty-Five: P is for Petrify
She'd certainly hit the jackpot. But if the other type of Svengali was the one that was being used by the attacker, then she'd gotten no closer to understanding what it was and how to stop it.
xxx
"Myrtle?"
Ginny pushed open the door to the abandoned girls' bathroom and entered quietly. Tiles crunched under her school shoes and her bag flumped softly against a nearby sink Glancing around, she found, to her dismay, that as usual, Myrtle was not there.
"Myrtle?" she tried again dejectedly. Only the pregnant silence answered her. With muttered nothings of frustration, she backed out and stomped away.
Never there, Ginny thought angrily. What, does she have that busy a social life?
She snorted loudly, startling a few first years into dropping their books.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped at them, especially grumpy today due to her endless failure.
They squeaked in fright and scuttled away.
Pathetic.
She brought up her thin-fingered hands and wearily massaged her temples. She needed to calm down.
Deciding on impulse that a walk - a breath of fresh air – would do her good, she veered away from the direction that she was heading, and continued towards the Entrance Hall. She headed around a corner when she saw Scott and Alden, having what looked like a heated argument. Not wanting to get caught up in it, she ducked away and took a longer route.
On this route she saw Eleanor, Claude, and Flora's shoe coming through a door before she hurried down another bearing. Eventually she wound up in the Entrance Hall, and, smugly triumphant at having evaded everyone she saw, she passed through the broad wooden doors and out onto the Hogwarts grounds.
The black chiffon scarf tied around her hair flapping behind her, Ginny set off for the willow beside the Black Lake. It was one of her favourite spots to sit; it was where, in forty-eight years time, she would hang out with her best friends every day.
"I dare you to jump in the Lake!" Ginny said gleefully. "Go on, then!"
"No," Hermione refused bluntly, "it'll be cold, and anyway, I'm a Prefect, I should be setting an exa – PUT ME DOWN, HARRY!"
Then, with a great splash, she was-
Ginny shoved such thoughts firmly to the back of her mind as she neared the tree. She flopped down heavily onto the grass and leant back against the trunk. She had really and truly drawn a blank. Devin wouldn't tell her any more, she'd lost the Svengali, and had found out by borrowing – yes, borrowing! She'd give it back in time… - from Madam Crofton the list of all the books in the library, including those in the Restricted Section, that there were no other Svengali volumes. It had taken her a long time to locate and finally extract from the pincer-like grip that Crofton maintained on all of her possessions, but it had all been all for naught.
Gr.
The Slytherin released a short sigh of frustration, and tilted her head back.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, just before she closed them to relax, flickering, in the water. Something grey and cloudy and very still. Boredly curious, Ginny opened an eye and glanced back at the water.
Yes. There. She hadn't been imagining it. There was something pearly-silver floating in the Black Lake, perhaps a few metres down. Opening her other eye, the redhead pushed herself up off the trunk of the willow, crouched forwards on her knees, and peered down into the dark water.
For a while, the object was not identifiable. Then it floated closer to the surface, turned over, and Ginny sucked in a gasp of horror.
Lying in the Black Lake, seemingly frozen solid, was none other than Moaning Myrtle Tristanebury. Her mouth was fixed into a round, pouty 'o' of fear and surprise. Her eyes were wide; her pigtails were stiff.
Myrtle was petrified.
Ohmigod.
"How on earth do you petrify a ghost?" Ginny whispered, frowning. She recalled Nearly Headless Nick, from her own time, being petrified in her first year, by the basilisk.
Rapidly, almost like the pace of a life-support machine, pieces began to slot together in her mind. In her first year, the basilisk had travelled through the pipes. Myrtle lived in a toilet (well. She wasn't alive, but whatever). She lived in the pipes, where the basilisk roamed. She must have met it somewhere, been frozen, and then washed out into the Black Lake – she did say, in Ginny's third year, that her pipe connected to the Lake.
Then, Myrtle's previous words floated back to her:
"Have you considered that the Chamber of Secrets might be opening?" asked Myrtle, not bothering to check if Ginny knew what that was.
For all that Ginny knew, it could very well be. If she and Tom Riddle could enter and exit the underground chamber of Slytherin, then it was definitely a possibility. Then, she suddenly remembered her response to Myrtle's question:
"Yes, I have – but I know that it's not. Because I'm a Parselmouth, and I would have heard the Basilisk going about the school. Also, the gamekeeper's roosters are unharmed, and the spiders I've all seen are behaving normally," Ginny stated, calling back from memory what had happened in her first-year.
The voice… the voice, travelling through walls and ceilings… could it be the basilisk? Admittedly, she hadn't seen any oddly behaving spiders, or any dead roosters… but then again, how often did she pay attention to roosters and spiders anyway?
It was a very strong possibility.
But who could have opened it? It needs to be a Parseltongue…
Her brain answered immediately, TOM. However, as accurate as this had been twice before, she knew that it could not possibly be Tom setting basilisks on people – the voice, of, supposedly, the basilisk, always lead to him, generally ending in blood, dismay, unconsciousness, and a slashed forearm.
Again, the confusion of 1958 (now 1959, Ginny reminded herself) all revolved around one major topic.
Svengali.
But she knew nothing about it, and, with no books, no help from Devin, and Myrtle petrified, it was becoming more and more unlikely that she could ever unravel the mystery.
xxx
"Hey!" Ginny said, falling into step beside Grace.
"Where were you during our free-period?" the brunette inquired. "I was looking for you."
"Library," Ginny lied easily. "Every heard of it? Big place with books. Scary midget lady looks after it."
Strangely, Grace didn't protest or look offended. She was staring, open-mouthed, behind Grace, embarrassed surprise and guilt playing across her round face.
"What?" Ginny frowned.
"Scary midget lady is behind you," Grace finally hissed, going bright red.
Oh.
Crap.
Slowly, Ginny turned about to face the tiny and terrifying librarian. "Hello, ma'm," she said brightly. "And how are you on this fine January day?"
"TEN POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN," Madam Crofton barked, glaring.
"Lovely," Ginny muttered quietly as the very small woman marched briskly away.
The two female Slytherin got into the line for Defence Against the Dark Arts, comparing their homework and chatting animatedly about what they thought having the Imperius Curse cast on them would be like (Devin had briefed them that today it would be tested).
"I hope he doesn't make us do anything humiliating," Grace prayed fervently.
"Relax," Ginny said bemusedly. "Anyone, you can throw it off if you try."
"Really?"
Ginny's memory flashed back to a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy crashing into a set of Defence Against the Dark Arts desks as he half-tried to jump onto them and half-tried not to. "Yeah," she said simply, shutting down painful memories and telling them mentally never to come back.
"Quiet, students," Devin commanded. He avoided Ginny's gaze. "In you come now. Everyone sit down. Your homework will be collected at the end of the class, and there will be no need to take out your wands."
Grace and Ginny filed into the classroom with the others and located their seats. There they sat straight, paying attention carefully to when they'd get to experience the Imperius Curse.
"We'll be doing it in alphabetical order," Devin began.
"Aw! So unfairsville, sir!" complained Ramira – her last name being Xau, she'd be second-last to be selected.
Ignoring this outburst, Professor read out from the register, we will begin with… Faisal Alfonso."
A dark-skinned Gryffindor got proudly to his feet and swaggered to the front of the classroom. "Wicked, sir," he declared, tossing a wink into the audience of his classmates (the Gryffindor boys grinned; the girls sighed; the Slytherins all curled their lips in disgust) "Let's go!"
"Very well," said Devin coolly, twirling his wand between his index and middle finger. Catching it mid-twirl, he flourished it at Alfonso and bit out, "Imperio!"
Ginny watched silently. She'd seen it done a thousand times… though never something as harmless and pure as this was demonstrated. Alfonso clucked like a chicken and paraded around the room, still making chicken noises.
The spell was released, and, amid hoots of laughter, there was left a totally bewildered Alfonso. "What happened?" he asked dumbly, scratching his curly-haired head.
"Next! Harriet Augustine, please – Mr. Alfonso, sit down."
A small, rather rotund Gryffindor girl came up, her hands trembling. "Yes, sir?" she asked.
"Imperio!"
Two verses of 'God Save the Queen' later, Augustine was left in the same puzzled position as Alfonso had been in.
"Claude Felina Bastet!"
With a smirk playing on her lips, Claude stood and sashayed to the front. Then the familiar look of total bliss and ignorance crossed her pretty, usually snide face as the spell was cast, and she began to enthusiastically dance the cha-cha.
Orion Black – stared blankly into space and said solemnly, "To be, or not to be… I have absolutely no idea."
Cecile Dubois – shrieked, "YEAH, BABY!" in a pitch several octaves higher than his usual baritone, and wiggled his hips.
Percival Golding – shuffled his feet, pumping his hands, and shouted, "Oom-pah! Oom-pah!"
Grace Hartwin – skipped around the room (she did fall over twice of her own accord) and then did a ballet pirouette that Ginny was certain she never could have accomplished alone.
Tamara Joseph – picked her nose with her wand ("ewwww!" the class chorused, looking in horror at both Tamara and Professor Devin).
Daal Lim – sang the latest Wizarding pop-song, complete with bizarre hand actions.
It was getting closer to Ginny's turn.
Abraxas Malfoy – hugged himself and squealed, "Nyum nyum nyum!"
Avani Mohana – drew on herself with her own eyeliner a moustache and a monocle.
Pamela Muggins – usually shy, she sashayed forwards like a model, struck a dramatic pose, and then fell asleep.
"Well done, Miss Muggins," Professor Devin said warmly. He consulted his clipboard. "Next… Ginevra Peregringe!"
She glanced anxiously at Grace. Then she stood and crossed to the front of the room, hovering unsurely in front of Devin's desk.
"Ready?" Devin asked, pointing his wand at her face in a fashion slightly more than ominous when paired with his hooded, unfriendly eyes.
"Yes, sir," said Ginny boldly.
Devin nodded at her; lifted his wand…
The last word that Ginny remembered was a sharp "Imperio!"
And then the world went blissfully blank.
xxx
A/N: -GASP- Next chapter from Tom's POV, for obvious reasons. Teehee. Is this what you expected? Please review. Sorry, still no review replies. Not enough time. Will do soon, though.
XXX