Three students stood on the Hogwarts grounds, staring into the morning sky.
"Going to rain," predicted Bruce, with a worried eye directed at the heavens.
Melissa chewed a piece of toast reflectively. "Fly low. Maybe you can get some mud to throw in their eyes."
It was the day of the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match, and every indication backed up Bruce's prophecy. The clouds hung low in a gray sky; it was unusually cold for the beginning of November. Besides, it had been a very red sunrise, and (according to Professor Trelawney) that always indicated foul weather.
"Just try to stay warm," Beth advised. "Get sick this game and you'll be miserable for the rest of the season."
They wandered back inside. The Great Hall was filled with students and teachers eagerly discussing the first Quidditch match of the season. Bruce went off to join his teammates at the end of the table. Beth and Melissa, having already eaten and with nothing else to do until the game, just milled around looking at the tapestries on the walls.
"Centuries old, these," Melissa said, gazing up at a banner with lots of knotwork embroidered around a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. A pair of columns was sewn on either side of Salazar's standing figure, and a long snake with bright red plumage wound around his feet. "Must have been made at the time the castle was built."
"You can't tell," Beth remarked. She stared up at an elaborate stitching of Helga Hufflepuff holding her pet badger. Helga's cross-stitched face creased into a smile. Beth smiled back.
Melissa had moved down the wall to a scarlet and gold portrait. "Good old Godric Gryffindor," she remarked bitterly. "Salazar may have left behind a secret chamber, but old Godric left us a house full of pains in the --"
"Team's leaving," Aaron Pucey interrupted brightly. He came up and gave Beth a little punch in the arm. "See you two after."
"Good luck!"
"Clobber them," Melissa ordered. She jerked a thumb at Slytherin's portrait. "Salazar says so." The embroidered serpent raised its head and nodded vehemently, flicking its tongue in and out.
"Will do," Aaron promised, and he gave them a big grin and a wave before dashing off to follow the rest of the team down to the Quidditch pitch.
Beth watched him go and couldn't help but smile. "He's so excited."
"Well, it's his first game," Melissa said. "Too bad it couldn't be against the Hufflepuffs. Make it a nice, easy win."
The actual game started at eleven o'clock. By then both teams had escaped to their locker rooms and the Quidditch pitch had filled up with crimson and green supporters, from both the school and the town. Gilderoy Lockhart wore jade-green to support the Slytherins and sat eagerly beside Professor Snape, who looked like he was at his own hanging instead of a Quidditch game.
"You know, I used to play a little Quidditch myself --" babbled Lockhart gaily. "Could've gone professional, Puddlemore United was mad after me, if I hadn't decided to devote my life to eradicating the Dark Arts -- not to blow my own horn, of course --"
"Toot toot," said Snape dourly.
Both teams came out on the field then, and started swooping around the goalposts before taking their positions. Madame Hooch made the captains shake hands before throwing the Quaffle into the air.
"And the Quaffle is taken right away by Captain Marcus Flint of Slytherin --" Lee Jordan narrated from the press box. "He's zooming down the field -- passes to Adrian Pucey of Slytherin -- Pucey going in for the score, menaced by a Bludger but it misses -- Wood lunges -- misses -- that's a goal, ten points to Slytherin! All of forty seconds and Slytherin is already on the board!"
The Slytherins cheered wildly. There was a wave of boos and hisses from the Gryffindors' supporters as the players regrouped and started off again.
Beth and Melissa huddled under an umbrella in the Slytherin section of the stands. Melissa had brought her binoculars. True enough, it started raining not long after the game began. Beth had been prepared for a hard-fought game, but it turned out to be hardly a game at all -- with their excellent brooms and sharp formations, the Slytherins scored six times before Oliver Wood called a time out.
"Aaron's really good," breathed Beth, while the players grouped into a huddle. "He and Warrington are just killing the Weasleys."
"Looks like they're trying to kill Potter," said Melissa critically. "I'm watching him and Draco, and there's always a Bludger somewhere near Potter. Oh well, rule number one in the Beater's Bible --"
"Take out the Seeker," they said together, and giggled.
On the field, the Slytherin team suddenly roared with laughter and looked over at the Gryffindors, who scowled back. All of them were dripping wet by now. Melissa peered through her binoculars at them. "Hooch is going towards Wood," she narrated. "Looks like time's up -- Wood doesn't look happy -- neither do the rest of them, for that matter --"
"Course not, they're down sixty to nothing," grinned Beth. "If only Draco would get that Snitch ..."
Game play resumed and the rain began to really beat down. "Now it's Uther Montague with the Quaffle -- escapes a Bludger and two Gryffindor chasers -- oh no, stop him somebody -- Keeper Wood misses the block and it's another goal to Slytherin. Score seventy to zero, Slytherin favor." Lee Jordan sounded dramatically disappointed; first, that his team was losing, and second, that the Slytherins hadn't been fouled even once.
Beth was watching Bruce, but Melissa had her binoculars trained on Potter. "What's he doing?" she wondered aloud. Beth looked up. Potter was darting around like he was trying to escape a hive of killer bees; there was a Bludger right on his tail.
"Oh no, he's trying that falling-off-his-broom thing again!" Beth wailed. "Good thing nobody's falling for it this time!"
"Draco's right up there with him," Melissa said, her binoculars clenched in both hands. "What is he doing, doesn't he know he's got to get the Snitch -- ooh, that hurt!" she exclaimed gleefully, as a Bludger took Potter in the elbow. Potter dipped and swerved, obviously in great pain. "Bet he broke his arm -- oh good, maybe he'll be out all season --"
Broken arm or no, Potter suddenly swung around and dived at Draco, who ducked out of the way ... he reached out his good arm and clenched his fingers around something ... and made a nose dive for the ground.
"Come on, crash!" Melissa cried, jumping up and down in excitement. Her bouncing shook loose a lot of water from the top of the umbrella and it came pouring onto Beth's head. She barely noticed, because right then Potter had collapsed into the mud, and Lee Jordan was calling excitedly:
"Potter has the Snitch! That's the end of the match, ladies and gentlemen, Gryffindor wins one hundred and fifty to seventy!"
The Slytherins all moaned. Gilderoy Lockhart stood up in the front, bitter disappointment on his handsome face.
"Well ... can't win them all, can we ... I say, Severus, I'm going to go down and see if the boy needs any help. He looks a bit injured."
Potter looked more than a little injured; he hadn't moved since he had landed, and he was surrounded by a big mass of people. Some little first-year boy was darting around taking pictures of him on the ground. Lockhart went down to the field and was soon seen elbowing his way to Potter's side.
They carried Potter off the field to wild cheers from the Gryffindor supporters. The Slytherins were less enthused. They trudged back to the common room in the rain, feeling like the weather perfectly mimicked their mood. Possibly the only one who wasn't disappointed was Marcus Flint. He was downright furious.
"Right there -- six inches -- just have looked --" he bellowed, as Draco quailed from his wrath. "Practically sitting on top of your head -- didn't even notice --"
The other team members were more sympathetic.
"You can't get distracted like that," Uther lectured patiently. "The best broom in the world's no good if you don't keep your focus. Potter topped you in the concentration department, that's for sure."
"Oh, shut up," grumbled Draco, and he stormed away.
Bruce was only slightly more cheerful the next day.
"Potter's still in pain," he reported. "Maybe it'll last all season."
He was sprawled in front of the fire in the common room, playing chess with Evan Wilkes. The defeat of the Quidditch team had totally wiped out any motivation he had to do schoolwork. Instead he sulked around trying to improve his chess game, one painful loss at a time.
"Just keep it quiet," said Beth primly, as a pawn squealed in defeat. "I'm trying to do Alchemy here. It's no nap in the sun."
Bruce didn't hear her; he was moaning in agony as his second knight was clubbed and dragged from the board.
Without warning, students started to come into the common room and gather, chattering excitedly.
"What's this?" demanded Bruce, looking around distractedly while his chessmen tried to regain his attention.
"Checkmate," said Evan.
Bruce looked back at the chessboard and swore.
"This looks like the whole house," Beth observed, looking around at the throng. Riggs was dodging in and out, totally failing keep things from going mad around them.
Professor Snape came in and the common room grew silent. "There has been a second attack," he said, his soft voice echoing perfectly in the low room. "A first-year Gryffindor named Colin Creevey was found in the hallways last night. He was Petrified, just as the caretaker's cat. I must let you know that they are far from dead and the condition is not permanent."
"Bully for him," Bruce muttered, still looking bitter at losing the chess game.
"Professor Sprout will be able to reverse the spell as soon as her mandrakes are mature. Until then they will remain in the infirmary -- and for today, you are all to remain inside the dormitories with the exceptions of mealtimes. The only people entering or leaving will be myself and your prefect. Is everything clear?"
A second-year girl raised her hand nervously. "Do they know who did it?" Beth saw that it was Blaise Zabini. Asks sensible questions, she noted to herself.
"No." Professor Snape shook his head. "As such, safety precautions will be implemented. Be extremely careful to guard the passwords to the common room, for example. Your prefect will change them every other day."
Riggs looked up from where he had been consoling a frightened first-year and nodded curtly. He looked a little wild-eyed, and a little stunned.
There were no more questions, and no more answers. Professor Snape left the common room, and the story fell into the hands of the rumor mill.
The entire school was completely distracted for the rest of the day. Since no one had actually seen Creevey's frozen body and Madame Pomfrey was guarding him like a lion, rumors about what had happened to him grew bigger and wilder. The fact that Professor Snape had come into the common room to give them an accurate description of the attack made no difference whatsoever.
"Somebody was talking at dinner -- they said he was freeze-dried," said Aaron, his eyes wide.
"I heard he wasn't just frozen," Bruce said, "I heard he was dismembered."
"Like a side of beef," Aaron said somberly.
Beth rolled her eyes. "Honestly."
"Somebody said he was stoned," Bruce added. "And it sounded like they meant, stoned, like with rocks, you know?"
"Maybe," said Aaron, "he was turned into a stone and then broken up, and they have to put the pieces together and that's why we can't get in to see him!" He looked triumphant at his own infallible logic.
Mervin came up excitedly. "Guess what I heard! They had to pry his camera out of his cold, dead fingers, and when they checked it, the film had been burned out!"
Bruce let out a laugh; Aaron snorted. "Right, and Wood's going to hand us the Quidditch Cup."
Mervin looked hurt.
There was a very loud noise as the door to the common room slammed shut. Melissa tore inside, hands at her face. She hurried through and up the stairs to the bedroom, and only after she passed did Beth realize with a start that she was crying.
"What's on with her?" said Bruce, giving her a weird look. Beth punched him in the arm. "Ow!"
"For heaven's sake, have a heart, Bruce," Beth snapped. "I'd better go see what's wrong." She left the boys in the common room, looking at each other in confusion, Bruce rubbing his sore arm.
The curtains on Melissa's bed were drawn by the time Beth got upstairs. She could hear sobbing even from outside. Not entirely sure what to do, she sat on her own bed for a few minutes while Melissa went on crying steadily. After a while, she stood up and went to Melissa's bed.
"Mel?"
Sniffling. "Go away."
"It's Beth, are you all right?"
"What do you think?"
There was an awkward pause. "Mel, you're making me worried. What is it?"
A sob. "N-nothing."
"It sure doesn't sound like nothing." That was a line that her father used; Beth was surprised to her it come out of her own mouth.
There was a little more sniffling and a nose blow. "Get in here." Perplexed, Beth pulled back the curtains and crawled inside.
Melissa sat in the dark, surrounded by tissues, her eyes red and puffy. She looked like she was still on the verge of tears. "It's -- him. Galen. Stupid, stupid Galen!" She beat the mattress with every word. "He said ... he doesn't ..."
Beth sat silent.
"He doesn't want to see me anymore, and he doesn't really love me, and I don't care because I hate his stinking guts!"
Speechless, Beth reached out and gave her friend a tight hug.
"I don't believe ..." Melissa went on, still sniffling. "He was just ... but I never thought he'd break up with me ..." A sob caught in her throat. "After something that stupid! It's not even my fault! He's just a lousy jock, a dumb Gryffindor, and who needs him anyway!"
"Why did he ... break up with you?" Beth asked tentatively.
"He says that kid in his house was petrified by the Heir of Slytherin," Melissa started, but her face screwed up suddenly. "And so they're all -- mad, and scared -- and ... he said ..." she sniffed "... that he didn't want anybody ... to know ..." She could hardly speak. "That he was dating ... a ... S-Slytherin!"
And she burst into tears.
It took Melissa a few days to calm down enough to even care that another student had been turned into a living statue. Having missed the first round of rumors and hearsay, she was still curious.
"Surely someone's investigating," she said at breakfast one day, picking around at a plate of strawberry waffles. "From the Ministry, you know. I mean, if it was my kid I'd be furious."
"The parents were Muggles," said Beth. By this time, the stories had mostly straightened out into the truth. "They'd flip."
Melissa propped her chin on one hand. "Think they don't know, then?"
"Might not."
Melissa swirled her waffles a little more. "Maybe the Daily Prophet has something in it. Reports from the Ministry."
"Let's go ask Riggs," said Beth reasonably. "He always gets the paper. I think he reads it to make himself look smarter."
"Not that he needs it," said Melissa.
Riggs ate with the prefects at the head table and true enough, he was buried in the business section of the newspaper when Beth and Melissa approached. He looked up at them with some slight irritation.
"Yes?"
"Can we borrow the Prophet?" Beth asked. "We want to read what they're saying about the, you know, the attack."
Riggs folded his newspaper up. "Yes and no."
"What?"
"Yes you can borrow the paper. No, you can't read about the attack. They haven't written anything about it."
"Nothing at all?"
Riggs shook his head curtly. "Not a word. All the better, I say. If word gets out, there'll be inquiries and lawsuits -- parents pulling their children out -- a bloody mess, to sum it up. Best to keep it to ourselves."
"But how can they?" Melissa pressed. "Shouldn't somebody know? The kid's parents?"
"Are Muggles," said Riggs. ("I told you so," said Beth.) "Apparently Dumbledore didn't want to alarm them. After all, with no exposure to magic, what could they do about it? They'd think he was dead and rush to bring him home."
An owl swooped in and dropped a letter on Riggs's lap. "Ebenezer Nott," Beth read, before Riggs grabbed it up. "Isn't that --" She stopped suddenly, the words "the old S.S.A. secretary" still on her lips.
Riggs nodded. "We still keep in contact," he said. "Ministry connections. He may be able to get me a summer position."
"Ask him about the Chamber of Secrets!" Beth said. "Maybe he was around the last time."
Riggs gazed down at the letter thoughtfully. "Maybe he was."