Squib Puppet
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a sequel to "A Squib's Proper Place"
Chapter Four: Falling
The Owlery is a large, circular stone room located at the top of
the Castle's West Tower. None of the windows have glass in them, which
makes the place very drafty.
It was only a few minutes past eleven thirty at night. The
hundreds of perches, rising all the way up to the ceiling, were nearly
empty. Most of their occupants had taken wing, to hunt.
I've always been grateful that this place isn't one of the rooms
that I am expected to keep spotlessly clean. Replacing the straw in here
at regular intervals is a big enough job.
The windows are set rather high in the walls. They take a bit of
climbing to reach. Pulling myself up, I settled onto a broad, stone
sill, mercifully free of regurgitated mice.
Far below me in the darkness, the Castle grounds led down to the
dark, shadowy mass of the Forest.
"Come to the Forest at midnight," the smooth, insistent voice in
my head whispered endlessly. I knew that I would not be able to resist
the compelling power of its command for very much longer.
I reached into my pocket. My fingers closed around a glass vial.
Inside the vial were several very long, very bright silvery strands of
the Headmaster's hair. I jerked my hand back as if the vial had burned
me.
Desperately, I tried to think of other things. The voice in my
head mustn't know what I meant to do.
Looking around me at the Owlery, I shuddered. Years ago, one of
the kittens from Mrs. Norris's first litter had probably died here.
Either the foolish little beast had been mistaken for prey by an owl, or
he had simply managed to fall out of one of the windows.
Not finding her lost kitten inside the Castle, poor Mrs. Norris
had slipped outside to search. Her heartbroken crying over the small
crushed body she had found on the grass, far beneath the tall West
Tower, still haunted me.
Hagrid had helped me bury the tiny corpse, visibly irritated by my
lack of tears.
I'd been irritated with him, too. The kitten had been dead and my
tears would not have changed that.
Falling to pieces never changes the unpleasant facts of life. I
could not let myself fall to pieces now, either.
I had thought of a way to avoid obeying the voice.
On my way here, from Helga Hufflepuff's hidden workroom, I had
managed to slip away from Mrs. Norris and the kittens. As always when we
roamed the Castle together, the inquisitive little creatures had soon
darted off to investigate various curiosities that had caught their
fancy. Dancing dust motes, dropped quills, brightly polished suits of
armor, loose threads on carpet runners.
Thankfully, at least none of them seemed to be as reckless as
their long-dead brother. Though Mrs. Norris would still have a bit of a
job to round them all up.
I found comfort in the thought that this batch of kittens would
probably be quite safe. Most of the beings inside Hogwarts seemed to be
kindly disposed towards them. Even Peeves.
*******
I had Ron Weasley to thank for Peeves.
The very first time that Peeves had set eyes on the helpless
little waddling fluffballs, the poltergeist had chortled with wicked
glee.
"Ooooh! What have we here?"
Horrifying images of Mrs. Norris's vulnerable babies trapped in
dark, hidden places as a "joke,", or struggling with heavy things
"mischievously" tied to their tiny tails had frightened me.
Grabbing the nearest threatening item (a mop handle that I'd just
finished repairing,) I had advanced on the poltergeist.
"Stay away from them, you...!"
Peeves had not been the only one interested in the kittens.
Hermione had been there, as well as all the children who had definitely
been promised a kitten. Some of their friends had come too.
While most of the children had grabbed for the kittens, anxiously
protecting them from Peeves, Ron had considered the problem from an
entirely different angle.
"Wait, Mr. Filch!" Ron had said. "You know that the kittens
wouldn't have been born if it wasn't for Peeves."
"So?" I'd snarled, swinging my mop-handle at the laughing
poltergeist.
"Well..." the boy had said, reasonably, "doesn't that make Peeves
sort of like their godfather?"
Highly annoyed, I'd growled, "it most certainly does not...!"
And then I'd seen the look on Peeves' usually wicked little face.
The wretched creature was stunned and delighted. Moved, even. As
if he'd just been given the keys to the Castle and had been invited to
sit at the Staff table beside Dumbledore, at the Welcoming Feast!
"I'm sure that Peeves wouldn't play any pranks on his own
godkittens..." Ron said, matter of factly.
"Godfather!!" Peeves had crowed, delighted by my look of anger.
He'd thrown out his chest proudly and turned somersaults in mid-air.
"I'm the kitties' godfather, and there's nothing that Mean Old
Filch can do about it!
Unseen by the happily dazed poltergeist, Ron had given me a wink.
I'd been skeptical at the time. But Weasley's clever move had
worked. The poltergeist had never teased the kittens or harmed them in
any way. In fact, the more outraged I acted over the notion of the
kittens having a poltergeist for a godfather the more Peeves seemed to
dote on them.
*******
Thinking about Peeves and his unlikely, but cleverly arranged,
protectiveness towards the kittens helped to ease some of the turmoil in
my battered mind.
Slowly, I stood up, balancing on the sill.
Then, from behind me, on the floor of the Owlery, I heard a
plaintive mew. Followed by a soft, anxious voice.
"Mr. Filch! What are you doing? Please come down from there!
Please!"
It was Ginny Weasley.
My heart sank. I began to tremble. Oh, Sweet Merlin, no! This was
difficult enough already.
Turning my head, I saw my small red-haired friend, standing with
my cat at her side.
"Go away, Ginny, child. It's very late. You should be asleep," I
whispered, my hand tightening on the vial in my pocket.
"No. I'm not leaving. You're going to have to come down from there
and give me detention." Ginny said.
"I-I can't." I said, miserably. "Please. Just go."
"You don't really want to do this," Ginny said, walking slowly
closer, with Mrs. Norris still pacing her. "I can see that."
Shaking my head without speaking, I shivered. I couldn't explain,
couldn't tell Ginny that I wasn't alone in my own mind. The voice would
give me no peace unless I did what it said.
Not while I lived.
"Don't take out your wand, child." I whispered. "If you try to use
magic to stop me, I'll know before you start. And I won't give you the
chance..."
Ginny stopped walking. In the moonlight I saw that her eyes were
full of tears.
"Thank you, Ginny. Now, please pick up Mrs. Norris. I really don't
want her to jump up here with me. She could fall."
"If I do that, will you come down? Please? If you die, Mrs. Norris
will miss you so much. I will too."
"Ginny, please..."
Mrs. Norris allowed Ginny to pick her up and cradle her. My cat
was crying, too, the same heartrending sound she'd made over her dead
kitten.
My heart ached and I was horribly afraid, but I wasn't going to
cry. I'd cried enough already. Tears would not change what needed to be
done.
There was another rustle of movement in the dark Owlery. Behind
Ginny and Mrs. Norris I could hear other people.
Suddenly, three more children were hurrying out of the shadows.
And moving towards me even faster than the children, was a huge black
dog.
Quickly, I turned away from the concern and fear I saw in the
children's faces and in the dog's pale eyes. Resisting the voice was
taking all my strength. I couldn't let anyone stop me.
"I'm sorry." I whispered.
("Forgive me..." I could hear the smooth voice in my head whisper.
I knew that these words had not been meant for me. But the sorrow and
regret in the voice tore at me, unexpectedly.)
With my eyes tightly shut and the potion vial clutched in my right
hand, I stepped off the sill, into the emptiness beyond.
*******
Just as I started to fall a pair of powerful jaws clamped tightly
around my left arm.
The huge, black dog had made a truly prodigious leap. I don't know
if the Gryffindor Animagus thought that he could possibly hold me there.
If so, he was sadly mistaken.
The two of us plummeted downwards together towards the ground far
below.
*******
I could hear the four children screaming in grief and fear. Their
voices cried out the dog's name and mine.
No...! I needed to die, but not poor Black. I already owed the
Animagus my life, several times over.
I could not take him with me! It was wrong...
Suddenly, red-and-gold was directly beneath us.
A heartbeat later, the huge dog, his jaws still clamped tight
around my left forearm, tumbled with me, down into the Door.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
Author's Notes:
I'm still not sure about the rating. Maybe "R" is high, but when Filch
started thinking that suicide was his only way of beating the voice,
this story got darker than I originally thought it would be. I decided
it was better to err on the side of caution.
Blue Moon: Thank you!!
Pendragon: Thank you!! I'm honored that you check for updates so
frequently! I'd write all day long, if only I could. But family, job and
housework all need some time too. (Well, at least I can ignore the
housework. That's what I should be doing now.)
Fifteen hours? (Whimper) I can't write that fast... 2-3 days is probably
how long the next chapter will take.
Poor Draco doesn't know he's forgotten anything. But he continues to
feel worried about Lucius, in spite of his father's reassurances.
I'm glad that you like Callandra! I do too.
Elektra: Thank you!! I don't know how many stories there will be
eventually. I thought I was done after "Squib Doors," but then I had
some more ideas. There are still some partial story-fragments that I
haven't worked with yet.
I'll do my best to keep Callandra from being a Mary Sue. I like her too
much to have her go that route.
Demeter: Thank you!! Yes, while I really like the Slytherins too, I just
could not see them being nice to Callandra.
Gramarye: Thank you!!
Ryven: Thank you!!
Saphron: Thank you!! Poor Snape isn't the first person to miss symptoms
in someone he sees all the time. Terrible things can go on at Hogwarts
right under everyone's nose, like what happened to poor Moody.
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Pansy is affronted that there's a Squib-student
at Hogwarts. She considers that reason enough to attack Callandra. I
liked Neville's dig at Malfoy too.
Harry did figure out that something's really wrong with Filch, almost
too late. He listened to Neville, Callandra and Ginny, and he put their
worries together with his own observations.
Though, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius wouldn't have showed up in the
Owlery if it wasn't for Ginny. Ginny followed a worried Mrs. Norris up
to the Owlery, and the others followed her.
Yes, the workroom is Helga Hufflepuff's. Your idea for the effects of
being pricked by Helga's spinning wheel made me laugh!
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a sequel to "A Squib's Proper Place"
Chapter Four: Falling
The Owlery is a large, circular stone room located at the top of
the Castle's West Tower. None of the windows have glass in them, which
makes the place very drafty.
It was only a few minutes past eleven thirty at night. The
hundreds of perches, rising all the way up to the ceiling, were nearly
empty. Most of their occupants had taken wing, to hunt.
I've always been grateful that this place isn't one of the rooms
that I am expected to keep spotlessly clean. Replacing the straw in here
at regular intervals is a big enough job.
The windows are set rather high in the walls. They take a bit of
climbing to reach. Pulling myself up, I settled onto a broad, stone
sill, mercifully free of regurgitated mice.
Far below me in the darkness, the Castle grounds led down to the
dark, shadowy mass of the Forest.
"Come to the Forest at midnight," the smooth, insistent voice in
my head whispered endlessly. I knew that I would not be able to resist
the compelling power of its command for very much longer.
I reached into my pocket. My fingers closed around a glass vial.
Inside the vial were several very long, very bright silvery strands of
the Headmaster's hair. I jerked my hand back as if the vial had burned
me.
Desperately, I tried to think of other things. The voice in my
head mustn't know what I meant to do.
Looking around me at the Owlery, I shuddered. Years ago, one of
the kittens from Mrs. Norris's first litter had probably died here.
Either the foolish little beast had been mistaken for prey by an owl, or
he had simply managed to fall out of one of the windows.
Not finding her lost kitten inside the Castle, poor Mrs. Norris
had slipped outside to search. Her heartbroken crying over the small
crushed body she had found on the grass, far beneath the tall West
Tower, still haunted me.
Hagrid had helped me bury the tiny corpse, visibly irritated by my
lack of tears.
I'd been irritated with him, too. The kitten had been dead and my
tears would not have changed that.
Falling to pieces never changes the unpleasant facts of life. I
could not let myself fall to pieces now, either.
I had thought of a way to avoid obeying the voice.
On my way here, from Helga Hufflepuff's hidden workroom, I had
managed to slip away from Mrs. Norris and the kittens. As always when we
roamed the Castle together, the inquisitive little creatures had soon
darted off to investigate various curiosities that had caught their
fancy. Dancing dust motes, dropped quills, brightly polished suits of
armor, loose threads on carpet runners.
Thankfully, at least none of them seemed to be as reckless as
their long-dead brother. Though Mrs. Norris would still have a bit of a
job to round them all up.
I found comfort in the thought that this batch of kittens would
probably be quite safe. Most of the beings inside Hogwarts seemed to be
kindly disposed towards them. Even Peeves.
*******
I had Ron Weasley to thank for Peeves.
The very first time that Peeves had set eyes on the helpless
little waddling fluffballs, the poltergeist had chortled with wicked
glee.
"Ooooh! What have we here?"
Horrifying images of Mrs. Norris's vulnerable babies trapped in
dark, hidden places as a "joke,", or struggling with heavy things
"mischievously" tied to their tiny tails had frightened me.
Grabbing the nearest threatening item (a mop handle that I'd just
finished repairing,) I had advanced on the poltergeist.
"Stay away from them, you...!"
Peeves had not been the only one interested in the kittens.
Hermione had been there, as well as all the children who had definitely
been promised a kitten. Some of their friends had come too.
While most of the children had grabbed for the kittens, anxiously
protecting them from Peeves, Ron had considered the problem from an
entirely different angle.
"Wait, Mr. Filch!" Ron had said. "You know that the kittens
wouldn't have been born if it wasn't for Peeves."
"So?" I'd snarled, swinging my mop-handle at the laughing
poltergeist.
"Well..." the boy had said, reasonably, "doesn't that make Peeves
sort of like their godfather?"
Highly annoyed, I'd growled, "it most certainly does not...!"
And then I'd seen the look on Peeves' usually wicked little face.
The wretched creature was stunned and delighted. Moved, even. As
if he'd just been given the keys to the Castle and had been invited to
sit at the Staff table beside Dumbledore, at the Welcoming Feast!
"I'm sure that Peeves wouldn't play any pranks on his own
godkittens..." Ron said, matter of factly.
"Godfather!!" Peeves had crowed, delighted by my look of anger.
He'd thrown out his chest proudly and turned somersaults in mid-air.
"I'm the kitties' godfather, and there's nothing that Mean Old
Filch can do about it!
Unseen by the happily dazed poltergeist, Ron had given me a wink.
I'd been skeptical at the time. But Weasley's clever move had
worked. The poltergeist had never teased the kittens or harmed them in
any way. In fact, the more outraged I acted over the notion of the
kittens having a poltergeist for a godfather the more Peeves seemed to
dote on them.
*******
Thinking about Peeves and his unlikely, but cleverly arranged,
protectiveness towards the kittens helped to ease some of the turmoil in
my battered mind.
Slowly, I stood up, balancing on the sill.
Then, from behind me, on the floor of the Owlery, I heard a
plaintive mew. Followed by a soft, anxious voice.
"Mr. Filch! What are you doing? Please come down from there!
Please!"
It was Ginny Weasley.
My heart sank. I began to tremble. Oh, Sweet Merlin, no! This was
difficult enough already.
Turning my head, I saw my small red-haired friend, standing with
my cat at her side.
"Go away, Ginny, child. It's very late. You should be asleep," I
whispered, my hand tightening on the vial in my pocket.
"No. I'm not leaving. You're going to have to come down from there
and give me detention." Ginny said.
"I-I can't." I said, miserably. "Please. Just go."
"You don't really want to do this," Ginny said, walking slowly
closer, with Mrs. Norris still pacing her. "I can see that."
Shaking my head without speaking, I shivered. I couldn't explain,
couldn't tell Ginny that I wasn't alone in my own mind. The voice would
give me no peace unless I did what it said.
Not while I lived.
"Don't take out your wand, child." I whispered. "If you try to use
magic to stop me, I'll know before you start. And I won't give you the
chance..."
Ginny stopped walking. In the moonlight I saw that her eyes were
full of tears.
"Thank you, Ginny. Now, please pick up Mrs. Norris. I really don't
want her to jump up here with me. She could fall."
"If I do that, will you come down? Please? If you die, Mrs. Norris
will miss you so much. I will too."
"Ginny, please..."
Mrs. Norris allowed Ginny to pick her up and cradle her. My cat
was crying, too, the same heartrending sound she'd made over her dead
kitten.
My heart ached and I was horribly afraid, but I wasn't going to
cry. I'd cried enough already. Tears would not change what needed to be
done.
There was another rustle of movement in the dark Owlery. Behind
Ginny and Mrs. Norris I could hear other people.
Suddenly, three more children were hurrying out of the shadows.
And moving towards me even faster than the children, was a huge black
dog.
Quickly, I turned away from the concern and fear I saw in the
children's faces and in the dog's pale eyes. Resisting the voice was
taking all my strength. I couldn't let anyone stop me.
"I'm sorry." I whispered.
("Forgive me..." I could hear the smooth voice in my head whisper.
I knew that these words had not been meant for me. But the sorrow and
regret in the voice tore at me, unexpectedly.)
With my eyes tightly shut and the potion vial clutched in my right
hand, I stepped off the sill, into the emptiness beyond.
*******
Just as I started to fall a pair of powerful jaws clamped tightly
around my left arm.
The huge, black dog had made a truly prodigious leap. I don't know
if the Gryffindor Animagus thought that he could possibly hold me there.
If so, he was sadly mistaken.
The two of us plummeted downwards together towards the ground far
below.
*******
I could hear the four children screaming in grief and fear. Their
voices cried out the dog's name and mine.
No...! I needed to die, but not poor Black. I already owed the
Animagus my life, several times over.
I could not take him with me! It was wrong...
Suddenly, red-and-gold was directly beneath us.
A heartbeat later, the huge dog, his jaws still clamped tight
around my left forearm, tumbled with me, down into the Door.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
Author's Notes:
I'm still not sure about the rating. Maybe "R" is high, but when Filch
started thinking that suicide was his only way of beating the voice,
this story got darker than I originally thought it would be. I decided
it was better to err on the side of caution.
Blue Moon: Thank you!!
Pendragon: Thank you!! I'm honored that you check for updates so
frequently! I'd write all day long, if only I could. But family, job and
housework all need some time too. (Well, at least I can ignore the
housework. That's what I should be doing now.)
Fifteen hours? (Whimper) I can't write that fast... 2-3 days is probably
how long the next chapter will take.
Poor Draco doesn't know he's forgotten anything. But he continues to
feel worried about Lucius, in spite of his father's reassurances.
I'm glad that you like Callandra! I do too.
Elektra: Thank you!! I don't know how many stories there will be
eventually. I thought I was done after "Squib Doors," but then I had
some more ideas. There are still some partial story-fragments that I
haven't worked with yet.
I'll do my best to keep Callandra from being a Mary Sue. I like her too
much to have her go that route.
Demeter: Thank you!! Yes, while I really like the Slytherins too, I just
could not see them being nice to Callandra.
Gramarye: Thank you!!
Ryven: Thank you!!
Saphron: Thank you!! Poor Snape isn't the first person to miss symptoms
in someone he sees all the time. Terrible things can go on at Hogwarts
right under everyone's nose, like what happened to poor Moody.
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Pansy is affronted that there's a Squib-student
at Hogwarts. She considers that reason enough to attack Callandra. I
liked Neville's dig at Malfoy too.
Harry did figure out that something's really wrong with Filch, almost
too late. He listened to Neville, Callandra and Ginny, and he put their
worries together with his own observations.
Though, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius wouldn't have showed up in the
Owlery if it wasn't for Ginny. Ginny followed a worried Mrs. Norris up
to the Owlery, and the others followed her.
Yes, the workroom is Helga Hufflepuff's. Your idea for the effects of
being pricked by Helga's spinning wheel made me laugh!
