Draco Malfoy snarled irritably at anyone who came too close as he
stormed through the hallways, his glacier-blue eyes gleaming. Just when
Potty-Boy had managed to get himself killed, the mere memory of the prat
managed to get him detention!
He had finally reached Filch's office, by then completely and totally fuming. The door creaked open when he knocked. Filch nodded impatiently at him, his wild eyes and stringy hair making him look much worse than he was. "I don't have time to deal with you properly tonight, Malfoy," the old caretaker muttered quietly. "Instead, Mrs. Norris will lead you to the length of corridor you will be scrubbing this evening. Here's your scrubbing brush, and NO MAGIC! Mrs. Norris'll be keeping an eye on you." With that, the old man handed Malfoy a muggle toothbrush, obviously already well used, and went back to his paperwork. Mrs. Norris walked out of the office, with Malfoy tagging along behind.
Mrs. Norris was perhaps the most exotic member of the Hogwarts administration. Though she looked like an ordinary, albeit ancient, housecat, she was something more. What exactly that 'something' was was beyond any student, including Malfoy. The cat was able to communicate with Filch somehow, a property that, combined with the stealthiness only cats possess, made every student want to kick her at least once during their Hogwarts education.
Mrs. Norris was nearly skeletal thin, with pale, sickly yellow fur and pale eyes that were extremely disturbing. Malfoy found himself reminded of Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye; it had been pale blue, the color of a rheumy eye, the same color of Mrs. Norris's. A student making mischief was always paranoid about sighting those pale blue eyes.
Mrs. Norris silently led Malfoy down several hallways. She led him through so many lefts and rights that he was beginning to curse the strange cat under his breath with every step. How could that bloody cat move so fast? Draco had to practically jog to keep up with her.
Mrs. Norris finally stopped, so fluidly and suddenly that Malfoy nearly tripped over her. The corridor before them, one Malfoy had not seen before, was long and dusty. The faintest hint of boot prints caressed the ground-in brown film that seemed to permeate every surface of the corridor. The strange old cat nodded in Malfoy's direction once, then trotted a few meters away. He was sure that Mrs. Norris was watching him, waiting for him to pull his wand out of his boot.
Draco gazed in disgust at the filthy hallway. With no other course of action before him, Malfoy fell to his knees and began to scrub furiously, muttering all the while about what would happen when his father found out about his detention.
It took nearly three hours to remove a sufficient amount of dust from the strange hallway. As he stood, Mrs. Norris nodded to him again, then at the toothbrush. Malfoy held it out to her, and the cat took the handle in her mouth and ran off, not bothering to try and lead her charge back to the regular parts of Hogwarts.
"Well, bloody hell!" Draco whispered in a sarcastic wonder. "Now what?" With no course of action available, Malfoy began to meander down the corridor, back the way he came.
It only took ten minutes' wanderings for Draco to convince himself he was lost. "How the hell do you get lost in a school, the school you've been in since you were eleven?" he wondered absentmindedly, his voice full of venom. What was he going to do?
After half an hour, Malfoy was so lost that he was about to give up hope. Each corridor looked just like the last, and each turned and branched off like crazy. He found himself musing about growing old wandering aimlessly through some uncharted section of Hogwarts.
Just when he was about to give up and lie down to sleep right where he was, he heard something. What was it? It was a familiar sound, but Draco could not place it for the life of him. He started hesitantly towards it, wondering all the while what it could be. As he grew closer, it became more and more apparent. Someone was shouting, screaming. Malfoy had seen his father do the Cruciatus on the family dog once, and the sounds seemed similar, though what was crying out was still unknown to him. Just about anything could shriek like that if in enough pain.
Finally, he was there, wherever 'there' was. There was a door, with a small window in it. Draco could see another corridor through that window, and then a tightly sealed door. The screaming was coming from there. It was terrible, like someone having their organs removed, someone watching a loved one die. Occasionally, a word or two could be made out from the shouting, usually not words used in polite company.
For the first time, it occured to Malfoy that perhaps he was not supposed to be down here. He spun, ready to run off. As he was turning, suddenly he was not alone. "Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, clearly furious. "What exactly are you doing here at this time of night?"
"Professor, I was just serving my detention with Mr. Filch, and I got lost, and then I heard this sound, and...," Draco found his voice trailing off, in proportions with the raising of McGonagall's eyebrows and the lowering of the corners of her mouth.
"I believe that deducting twenty points from Slytherin is perfectly reasonable in this instance, Mr. Malfoy. I will escort you now to your house quarters, and I expect you to remain there until breakfast time."
"Yes, Ma'am," Draco replied softly, his head hung. He knew when to say he'd been beat. He had enough friends in his house that the points wouldn't matter, and Snape would take more points than that from Gryffindor tomorrow, so he was not overly concerned.
"This way, Mr. Malfoy," McGongall said curtly, whirling and causing her robes to billow behind her.
Draco could not figure out how the old bat moved so fast. She had to be in her sixties, or older, but Draco had to hurry to keep up. He was so out of breath from the exertion that he could not even keep track of all the lefts and rights and which corridor to take. McGonagall unerringly led him out of the strange hallways, and within ten minutes Malfoy was back at the portrait hole to the Slytherin dungeon.
Before Draco fell asleep that night, he dully wondered to himself exactly what he had stumbled upon. Whatever it was, he was not supposed to be there...
He had finally reached Filch's office, by then completely and totally fuming. The door creaked open when he knocked. Filch nodded impatiently at him, his wild eyes and stringy hair making him look much worse than he was. "I don't have time to deal with you properly tonight, Malfoy," the old caretaker muttered quietly. "Instead, Mrs. Norris will lead you to the length of corridor you will be scrubbing this evening. Here's your scrubbing brush, and NO MAGIC! Mrs. Norris'll be keeping an eye on you." With that, the old man handed Malfoy a muggle toothbrush, obviously already well used, and went back to his paperwork. Mrs. Norris walked out of the office, with Malfoy tagging along behind.
Mrs. Norris was perhaps the most exotic member of the Hogwarts administration. Though she looked like an ordinary, albeit ancient, housecat, she was something more. What exactly that 'something' was was beyond any student, including Malfoy. The cat was able to communicate with Filch somehow, a property that, combined with the stealthiness only cats possess, made every student want to kick her at least once during their Hogwarts education.
Mrs. Norris was nearly skeletal thin, with pale, sickly yellow fur and pale eyes that were extremely disturbing. Malfoy found himself reminded of Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye; it had been pale blue, the color of a rheumy eye, the same color of Mrs. Norris's. A student making mischief was always paranoid about sighting those pale blue eyes.
Mrs. Norris silently led Malfoy down several hallways. She led him through so many lefts and rights that he was beginning to curse the strange cat under his breath with every step. How could that bloody cat move so fast? Draco had to practically jog to keep up with her.
Mrs. Norris finally stopped, so fluidly and suddenly that Malfoy nearly tripped over her. The corridor before them, one Malfoy had not seen before, was long and dusty. The faintest hint of boot prints caressed the ground-in brown film that seemed to permeate every surface of the corridor. The strange old cat nodded in Malfoy's direction once, then trotted a few meters away. He was sure that Mrs. Norris was watching him, waiting for him to pull his wand out of his boot.
Draco gazed in disgust at the filthy hallway. With no other course of action before him, Malfoy fell to his knees and began to scrub furiously, muttering all the while about what would happen when his father found out about his detention.
It took nearly three hours to remove a sufficient amount of dust from the strange hallway. As he stood, Mrs. Norris nodded to him again, then at the toothbrush. Malfoy held it out to her, and the cat took the handle in her mouth and ran off, not bothering to try and lead her charge back to the regular parts of Hogwarts.
"Well, bloody hell!" Draco whispered in a sarcastic wonder. "Now what?" With no course of action available, Malfoy began to meander down the corridor, back the way he came.
It only took ten minutes' wanderings for Draco to convince himself he was lost. "How the hell do you get lost in a school, the school you've been in since you were eleven?" he wondered absentmindedly, his voice full of venom. What was he going to do?
After half an hour, Malfoy was so lost that he was about to give up hope. Each corridor looked just like the last, and each turned and branched off like crazy. He found himself musing about growing old wandering aimlessly through some uncharted section of Hogwarts.
Just when he was about to give up and lie down to sleep right where he was, he heard something. What was it? It was a familiar sound, but Draco could not place it for the life of him. He started hesitantly towards it, wondering all the while what it could be. As he grew closer, it became more and more apparent. Someone was shouting, screaming. Malfoy had seen his father do the Cruciatus on the family dog once, and the sounds seemed similar, though what was crying out was still unknown to him. Just about anything could shriek like that if in enough pain.
Finally, he was there, wherever 'there' was. There was a door, with a small window in it. Draco could see another corridor through that window, and then a tightly sealed door. The screaming was coming from there. It was terrible, like someone having their organs removed, someone watching a loved one die. Occasionally, a word or two could be made out from the shouting, usually not words used in polite company.
For the first time, it occured to Malfoy that perhaps he was not supposed to be down here. He spun, ready to run off. As he was turning, suddenly he was not alone. "Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, clearly furious. "What exactly are you doing here at this time of night?"
"Professor, I was just serving my detention with Mr. Filch, and I got lost, and then I heard this sound, and...," Draco found his voice trailing off, in proportions with the raising of McGonagall's eyebrows and the lowering of the corners of her mouth.
"I believe that deducting twenty points from Slytherin is perfectly reasonable in this instance, Mr. Malfoy. I will escort you now to your house quarters, and I expect you to remain there until breakfast time."
"Yes, Ma'am," Draco replied softly, his head hung. He knew when to say he'd been beat. He had enough friends in his house that the points wouldn't matter, and Snape would take more points than that from Gryffindor tomorrow, so he was not overly concerned.
"This way, Mr. Malfoy," McGongall said curtly, whirling and causing her robes to billow behind her.
Draco could not figure out how the old bat moved so fast. She had to be in her sixties, or older, but Draco had to hurry to keep up. He was so out of breath from the exertion that he could not even keep track of all the lefts and rights and which corridor to take. McGonagall unerringly led him out of the strange hallways, and within ten minutes Malfoy was back at the portrait hole to the Slytherin dungeon.
Before Draco fell asleep that night, he dully wondered to himself exactly what he had stumbled upon. Whatever it was, he was not supposed to be there...