Chapter 40
Sunday, November 1, 1992- Ravenclaw first-year girls' dormitory one (aka Blue Dorm), Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland
Luna yawned. She stretched her arms above her head and wiggled her toes. So far it seemed to be a lovely, Nargle-free morning. Then Ginny came crawling through the curtains around her bed. Luna saw that she was much paler than usual and immediately paid full attention to her friend.
"What's wrong?" Luna asked.
"I don't know where I was last night," Ginny whispered fretfully. "Everyone is talking about the faerie king and what happened to Mrs Norris and I don't know where I was."
Oh dear. That could be a problem.
"Have you angered any Blibbering Humdingers?" Luna tilted her head. "No, I don't think you have."
Then Ginny reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a little black notebook. It was absolutely swarming with Nargles.
Luna looked at the notebook. Then she looked up at Ginny, her eyes wide. "Oh dear."
Letter from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to Nicolas Flamel; dated Sunday, November 1, 1992
Dear Nick,
Fawkes has brought you grave tidings, my friend, but I fear that no one else can be trusted with this information, save for your dear Perenelle of course. I have in my possession an object that was brought to me by Filius after it was turned over to him by one of his students. This object (I hesitate to name it for fear this letter may be read by unfriendly eyes, however impossible such a thing is) may be the key to permanently ending the Grave Problem before it becomes an imminent possibility. With your permission I would like to show it to you in person next weekend, along with any information I am able to dig up between then and now. Would it be possible for me to visit you on Saturday?
From,
Albus
Letter from Nicolas Flamel to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; dated Sunday, November 1, 1992
Cher Albus,
Cease your fretting, dear boy. You will visit on Saturday for tea. Perenelle is making bichon au citron.
Mes salutations respectueuses,
Nicolas
Letter from Harry Potter to Sirius Black; dated Sunday, November 1, 1992
Dear Uncle Padfoot,
I don't know if you've heard about what happened yesterday. Patricia said that she was going to write to you and Remus and she's probably done that already but in case she didn't: Mrs Norris was attacked! Something made her all frozen. Dumbledore said she was Petrified. We actually thought she was dead for a bit and Filch thought that me, Ron, Hermione, and Patricia had killed her. I thought he was going try to murder us right there before Dumbledore said she wasn't dead.
Hermione thought that I should tell you why we were there before everyone saw Mrs Norris. I heard this voice in the walls. It said that it was hungry and wanted to kill someone. We followed it but when we got there it was just Mrs Norris. I don't know what it was. There were a lot of ghosts in the castle for Nearly-Headless Nick's party. Are there ghosts who can Petrify things?
Harry
Tuesday, November 10, 1992-The Transfiguration classroom, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland
The second-year Gryffindors and Slytherins were attempting to turn mice into snuffboxes as they had done during the Transfiguration exam in first year when Harry heard the voice again. It was so noisy in the classroom from students running around trying to catch their mice as they made a break for freedom that he wasn't sure he had heard it at first. The voice was faintly grumbling to itself, complaining about...He wasn't hearing that right, was he? He could have sworn the voice was complaining about flowers. He really must not have heard it. It was probably just all the noise in the room making him think he'd heard something.
Harry continued to pretend that until the end of class, when the voice seemed to scream through the wall right next to his head. "So hungry! I'll kill them!"
Harry jumped into the air, which no one noticed because his mouse (which he had managed to give jewel-studded fur) jumped off his desk along with all the other mice in the room still capable of movement and it was assumed that he was chasing after it like everyone else. The voice had been much clearer than he'd ever heard it before and he now knew that he was an idiot. He knew what the voice was.
Professor McGonagall dismissed them after summoning all the runaway mice back into the cage on her desk and assigning several chapters to read on animal transfiguration since apparently they'd forgotten everything they'd done last year. Harry lagged behind his escaping classmates. When Ron and Hermione noticed that he wasn't with them they came back into the classroom.
"I just need to ask McGonagall something," Harry said when Ron asked what he was doing. "You guys go ahead. You don't want to be late to Charms."
Ron and Hermione hesitated, but they followed the crowd to their next class.
"What is your question, Mister Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"Er, it's not really a question about transfiguration," Harry admitted. "It's not really a question at all, but, well, Sirius said I should talk to you."
McGonagall pursed her lips. "Get on with it, Mister Potter."
"There's a snake in the walls," Harry said quickly. "I think it attacked Mrs. Norris."
"Merlin help us." McGonagall's eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "And what, pray tell, made you come to this conclusion?"
Harry mumbled into his collar, "I'm a Parselmouth."
"I beg your pardon, Mister Potter?"
Harry raised his head and repeated himself. "I'm a Paselmouth."
McGonagall went very, very still. Though her hair wasn't standing on end, Harry was reminded of one of his housemate's cats when it was frightened by Fred and George setting off fireworks in the common room.
"I think we had better talk to Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall said slowly after some time had passed. "Follow me, Mister Potter."
McGonagall hurried through the hallways and stopped on the third floor in front of a gargoyle that Harry had passed by many times before. "Sugar Quills."
That must have been a password because the gargoyle immediately jumped to the side, revealing a staircase. McGonagall headed up the stairs and after a moment's hesitation Harry followed. They went up the spiral staircase, higher and higher, until they reached a door that was already open. McGonagall still knocked before entering.
The headmaster was standing by a window, stroking the feathers of a brilliant, flame-coloured bird with one hand. He and Fawkes turned to face them at the same time.
"Headmaster," McGonagall said. "Mister Potter has information pertaining to the attack on Halloween."
Dumbledore looked at Harry over his half-moon spectacle. "Does he? Please, have a seat, Mister Potter."
Harry sat down in the chair closest to the door at a desk that was covered in books, parchment, and assorted knick-knacks. The desk was a reflection of the entire office, which didn't have a single surface that didn't have some odd or shiny thing on it if it wasn't covered in books. Looking at his office, it was hard to believe that Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor.
Dumbledore sat down across from Harry. "Sherbet lemon, Harry? May I call you Harry?"
"No thank you, sir." Harry shook his head but then changed to nodding. "Yes, sir. You can call me Harry."
Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Harry. Minerva, would you care for a sherbet lemon?"
McGonagall shook her head. "I should be getting back to my class."
"Very well." Dumbledore popped one of the yellow sweets into his mouth before resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers in front of him. "Now, Harry, please tell me what you know."