Chapter 11.5) The Nightmare
Selected Listening: Leta's Theme- Solo Piano James Newton Howard
One month prior…
The evening following the Slytherin-Gryffindor quidditch game was anything but pleasant for Draco Malfoy. After Anastasia's win, his teammates had dragged him to the dormitory bathroom to shove his head in the toilet several times. When they were finally done giving him swirlies, he showered and took up post in a corner of the common room, talking to no one and no one talking to him.
It was about eleven o'clock when Severus Snape entered the common room, bearing a grim expression.
"I require everyone's attention," he said, pointing his wand to his throat. Instantly, his words echoed through the hall. "Everyone to the common room now."
The last few students scampered down from the dormitories and found places to sit on the backs of sofas and armchairs.
"What I am about to say should alarm you, and if it doesn't, you may need to consider why that is. We have found a student petrified in the hallway."
Rapid whispers traveled through the crowd. Shouts of "who was it?" and "Tell us which mudblood got what was coming to them!" made their way to the front.
"Silence. Those comments are entirely inappropriate. If I hear another word against muggleborn students, I will direct the speaker to Professor Dumbledore for questioning."
"You're not serious?" The head boy, Crowley, asked with a half-smirk.
But a few half-bloods and muggleborn Slytherins looked to Snape in silent thanks. They did exist, but the general rule in Slytherin was don't ask, don't tell.
"I'm completely serious, Crowley. Now, I will not reveal the identity of the student, as that is private health information, but it was in fact a muggleborn student, leading me to wonder if any of you might know anything about this."
An ounce of dread diffused in Draco's chest.
"Why would we know anything?" Pansy Parkinson asked with a sneer. "We've all been in here—you can't go around accusing us—"
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware. Are those not the words written on the second-floor corridor, Miss Parkinson? And isn't every single person in this room a Slytherin student?" Snape asked sharply.
"That doesn't mean—"
"I will hear no more arguments. If you have legitimate information on who the heir of Slytherin is or who might have opened the chamber, come out with it now. I am not interested in having the name of our house sullied because of the treacherous actions of an individual student."
He swept a death glare across the Slytherins. No one dared raise their hand.
"No one, eh?" he asked.
"Excuse me, professor?" Draco raised his hand. All eyes shot to him. "Can't we at least know their house? How are we supposed to provide information if we don't know who was petrified?"
Draco's housemates begrudgingly agreed with him.
"It was a Gryffindor student. I am sure you will find out their identity through the insidious grapevine of gossip tomorrow…should you realize you have information…come to my office straight away…"
And before anyone could ask him anything else, Snape escaped through the portal.
There was an argument, a voracious argument amongst all the house members about who was the heir of Slytherin and who would take the blame for what was happening.
"Aren't you related to Slytherin?" one girl asked.
"He's like my great-great-great-great grand uncle or something—that doesn't count," said another.
"Sounds like a connection to me," replied a third.
All the while, Draco sunk further and further into the black marble behind him. If it were Anastasia who was petrified, wouldn't he have felt it? He clutched his heart with his hand. Could he even breathe with their condition? He felt fine, but what if he wasn't? Now he had to think about breathing because he thought too hard about it.
Draco ran back upstairs and hid behind the draperies of his bed, staring into the inky darkness of the lake. He remembered the first time he and Anastasia ended up in Florean's and the conversation they had about sorting.
"You're a pureblood, aren't you? You should join Slytherin too. Then we see each other," he told her. Anastasia frowned.
"I thought you said I can't follow you anymore," she said. "I don't break my promises."
"I guess I don't mind. You seem alright," he said.
In fact, she was better than alright. Those first few moments, he found her annoying. A common pest to shoo away. But when she held her ground, he realized as quickly as he could ridicule, she could retort. As quickly as he could tease, she could taunt. Anastasia knew more about the world than he did, most certainly. How else could she say things like she did with such confidence?
"You know where the Slytherin common room is? In the dungeons. It's incredibly dark and cold. All the windows are under the Black Lake, so all you see all night is creepy creatures looking in at you from the green water."
Draco hadn't considered this.
"I know- that's why the toughest students get into Slytherin," he said, straightening his shoulders.
It was something he said in the moment to make himself feel better. Slytherin first-years weren't tough at all. Slytherin first-years were cowards, and Salazar Slytherin made those windows to scare all the youngest students until they had no choice but to toughen up. Now he didn't flinch when fearsome beasts swam by his window, and he even found himself mesmerized by ones that lit up the darkness as he fell asleep.
"And how do you know so much about all this? You aren't even a student yet," he snapped at her.
"I have my ways," she answered and scraped her last bite of ice cream.
There was a mischievous glint in her eye when she said this, and the afternoon sun had brushed her hair and turned it golden. Draco remembered that moment distinctly.
Anastasia never explained her ways, how she knew so much about Hogwarts without having been to school. It wasn't fair. She was supposed to be his friend, and Potter and gang had stolen her from him.
The next day, Draco walked through the surprisingly empty halls on the way to charms. He spotted a figure lying on the floor with bright ginger hair.
"No," Draco said to himself as he ran towards her. "No no no no no no…"
He reached Anastasia and landed on his knees beside her. He felt the side of her neck for a pulse with his first two fingers alongside the tan scar on her neck.
She wasn't only petrified. She was dead.
"Anastasia, Anastasia no, wake up, you have to wake up…" he shook her by the shoulders, but the dead girl's head simply rolled to the side, unresponsive. "Help! Someone help!"
"What have you done, Malfoy?" Snape asked as he appeared behind him. "Finally killed a muggleborn have you? Well, you've gotten your wish."
"No—no that's not what I want. It wasn't me!"
McGonagall and Dumbledore appeared beside Snape. Minerva began weeping hysterically. Dumbledore's usually twinkly eyes narrowed at him fiercely.
"You know what must happen now, Draco?" the old man asked.
"What? No, I didn't do it!"
"You are expelled from the school—give me your wand."
"No…no please, I swear. I wouldn't hurt Anastasia. I wouldn't. She's not even a muggleborn. It's not fair. Please." He stared up at them begging, but they watched him without remorse.
"Why should we believe a spoiled brat like you?" Minerva demanded in an enraged tone. "You made those comments about muggleborns when the chamber was opened. Now you're here with her dead body?"
"I found her like this. I swear. It wasn't me. Please don't expel me. I'll be disowned. I'll have nowhere to go."
Dumbledore pulled his own wand and cast an accio spell. Draco's wand flew into his hand.
"This was your choice, Draco," the headmaster said and snapped the wand in half.
Draco woke up in a cold sweat, heart hammering against his chest. It was early Sunday morning after the quidditch match. He ran to the boys' restroom and stared at himself in the darkened mirror. It couldn't be Anastasia who was petrified…she couldn't really be gone. Could she?
He trudged back to bed and pulled the covers over his head. He didn't sleep again.
The next day he rose early and went to breakfast, sat there all morning, waiting for Anastasia to arrive. She didn't. Not with Weasley and Granger and not on her own. He went directly to the infirmary, but the doors were closed for privacy until further notice. He wandered outside, to the quidditch pitch, hoping to find her there. She wasn't. He trudged back to the castle, passing the oafs house, when the half-giant emerged from his tiny cottage.
"What 'er you doin' out 'ere, Malfoy?" Hagrid asked with a suspicious tone.
"Have you seen Anastasia?" he asked. "I'm looking for her."
"Why'd you want to know? Going to put a curse on her for making you look like a right fool yesterday?"
"No! I wouldn't curse Anastasia. All I'm trying to do is find out if she was the one who was petrified," he said exasperatedly.
Hagrid drew back, eyes narrowed.
"Why would a pureblood like yourself want to know?"
"Ugh, forget it!" Draco yelled and ran back up to the castle. Why did everyone suspect him of being the heir? He stowed away the rest of the day in the library, moping and pretending to study. His housemates were still shunning him from the game and left him alone. It was half past the start of dinner when he decided to go down to eat. This way, all the Slytherins would finish up early and he could eat in peace.
On his way down, he saw a ribbon of a ginger ponytail whip around the corner.
"Anastasia!" he called, but he didn't hear an answer. He rounded the corner to discover Anastasia slipping behind a suit of armor and disappearing.
There was a hidden passageway in the wall.
Anastasia knew about a hidden passageway in the wall.
Draco ran to the suit of armor and began tugging at it. He pulled out his wand and shouted all the spells he could think of that might open a secret door, but it wouldn't budge.
He hid behind the corner until Anastasia came back out of the passageway. She hurried quickly towards Gryffindor tower as if she might be running from something.
That had to be it, he thought to himself, The Chamber of Secrets.
Anastasia was the one playing innocent…and he was going to be the one to catch her.