Chapter Eleven: The Dreadfully Secret Letter
Mungo awoke the next morning, without any knowledge of what day it was. He drank his glass of Pepperup Potion that Madame Pomfrey had given to him, and waited patiently for the steam to stop coming out of his ears. He put on his hat, leaving his hair down, and got dressed into his robes. He put on his winter cloak as well, and headed for the common room.
Then he remembered what day it was. He was too sick to do anything exuberant, but he did a very small jig. He found a pile of presents with his name on them, and sat down next to them, waiting for Duncan to wake up. Mungo's patience really came in handy right now, as he waited passively for his friend to awaken.
He was counting how many colours the tapestries on the walls had, when Duncan came stumping down the stairs. Mungo smiled, and waved his hand when Duncan came in view, still in his pajamas but with his cloak on.
"Merry Christmas, Mungo!" Duncan said, and Mungo wished him the same. Then, without any further discussion, they tore into their presents like a niffler in a gold mine. The only time they talked was when they thanked each other for their presents: Duncan got a very thick, very old-looking book in German (Mungo had no notion why Duncan wanted this book), and Mungo received a book about famous Scottish witches and wizards.
Mungo's other prizes included a yellow and black plaid woolen cloak from his parents, as well as a leather wand scabbard. This was a special holder for your wand, that you just slipped onto your belt like a sword sheath. It was not advisable for wear in Muggle environs, though, but it was nice all the same.
He also got an interesting bookmark from his cousin, Penoria Browne, which not only marked his place in a book but told him what line he had been reading in a squeaky voice. Mungo additionally received a carton of Pumpkin Pasties from Neoni, in response to Mungo sending her a bag of Sugar Quills.
All in all, Mungo felt like it was a pretty good Christmas. He swapped his school robes for his plaid cloak, and Duncan and Mungo went down to eat breakfast, which Mungo spent more time eating than everyone else. After their food had settled down, Mungo and Duncan and several other Hufflepuff first-years went outside into the grounds and had a vicious snow fight. Mungo was accounting for himself rather well before he got hit in the ear and had to retire to get the snow out. The Pepperup Potion helped quite a lot with that.
Mungo and Duncan were strolling through the halls, as happy as they could be, when Mungo saw Potter and Weasley enter the bathroom that Mungo had seen them go into yesterday. Mungo stifled a sneeze with an effort, and said,
"Duncan, Potter and Weasley jus' entered tha' girls' bathroom. Yesterdee they were in there, an' Granger came oot wi' them. I investigated," Mungo sniffed quickly before resuming his narrative, "An' I foond a Polyjuice Potion there."
Duncan furrowed his brow.
"Isn't that a really rare and complicated potion? I think it was banned several times throughout the history of wizard's kind…" Duncan remarked.
"Th' point is what in blazes they are dooin' with it." Mungo said, and pointed toward the statue that he had hidden behind earlier. "Let's hide behind there, and track them."
Duncan complied, and they hustled behind the statue. It was a rather long time, or so it felt. Mungo had to hastily draw out his handkerchief as bouts of coughing struck him several times, and Duncan complained that his knees were killing him. Just as Mungo was about to launch into an argument that his knees couldn't possibly kill him as badly as Mungo's nose bothered Mungo, the door of the bathroom opened. Mungo gave a sharp exclamation as Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's henchmen, walked out.
"What are they dooin' there?" Mungo exclaimed silently after they had gotten out of hearing.
"You don't observe much, do you? Goyle was wearing Potter's glasses. Obviously, they used the Polyjuice Potion to change their appearances to Crabbe's and Goyle's." Duncan said testily. "Come on, we can find out what they're doing now. The game's afoot!"
Mungo sneezed, and started following Potter and Weasley. He wondered what kind of books Duncan read to make him say words like 'afoot.'
Potter and Weasley apparently had no idea where they were going. They wandered all over the castle, evidently hoping to bump into something. Mungo was about to get exasperated, and his throat was also starting to burn, when suddenly Potter and Weasley encountered a Gryffindor prefect. Mungo didn't know him, but he had a reputation of being snotty and bossy.
After a brief chat, around the corner came Malfoy. There was another interlude, with Potter hurriedly removing his glasses.
"Maybe Potter and Weasley are trying to get into the Slytherin common room, to try to get some information about whether anyone there is the Heir." Duncan suggested.
Mungo laughed dryly.
"Odds are they were plannin' t' play some prank on Malfoy, and they're havin' t' think pretty quick." Mungo said.
"They're getting out of sight!" Duncan whispered urgently. Mungo started forward, but Duncan placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Wait until the prefect's gone. He's probably not in a sunny state of mind at the moment." Duncan said. Sure enough, the Prefect stormed past them in such a rage that, if he had been looking at their hiding place, he would not have noticed them.
Mungo and Duncan hurried back down the corridor after Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy. Mungo was now sorely wishing that he hadn't even seen Potter and Weasley go into that rotten bathroom in the first place. Duncan, however, kept at a brisk jogging pace, and had a fierce glint in his eye.
Their quarry went down the castle, and then near the dungeons. They stopped at a blank stretch of wall. Malfoy stopped in front of a section, and the wall suddenly opened up. Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley all walked in.
"Well, tha's tha'." Mungo turned away resignedly, but Duncan grabbed onto his sleeve.
"Wait. It's not over yet." Duncan said with a steely tone to his voice.
They walked along the corridor, and found a good waiting spot.
"I doon't think we'll be findin' oot very much more. They'll stay there like idiots until their time's run oot on their Polyjuice Potion, and then goo harin' back to the bathroom, leavin' us as clueless to their findin's in there as we were when we set oot." Mungo sneezed forcefully again, dabbing his handkerchief to his nose.
"Plus, a few more minutes in this cold, drafty dungeon's gooin' t' be th' end of me. I'm gooin' back to the common room."
Duncan appeared to not hear, and said,
"I'll stay here."
Mungo gratefully left, and went back to the common room. He sat himself in one of the armchairs near the fire, and started reading a book that he had an assignment on. Mungo's gaze fell on a book on Duncan's accustomed seat. It was entitled, 'A Study in Scarlet.' By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Mungo picked it up curiously, and read the back.
It was about some sort of detective. No wonder Duncan was acting so oddly, he was plainly under the influence of this book.
Mungo set it back down, and then realized that Duncan might get into very serious trouble if he started nosing about like a detective.
"Merlin's Beard," Mungo muttered as he gathered his cloaks (he had his woolen one and his normal, uniform winter cloak as well) about him, and exited the common room.
At the bottom of the stairs, he had a rather nasty surprise. Filch was standing there, and looked as if he had been for some time.
"Hello, Mr. Gorsson." Filch smiled rather nastily. "I believe you have a friend who would rather like to see you. A fellow by the name of Abendroth."
"Wha' did he do?" Mungo asked.
Filch grabbed Mungo's sleeve, and started leading him down the hall.
"He was spyin'. Like a little thief, trying to get into a foreign common room. Said somethin' about Potter and Weasley." Filch said, snorting sarcastically. Mungo sneezed, but, regretfully, he sneezed on Filch's sleeve, as he couldn't get to his handkerchief on time.
"Gah! Nasty boy, if you were born fifty years ago you would have been expelled for such disgusting habits." Filch said, wiping his sleeve on his coat. "As it is, I'll just have to settle for detention. Rather nasty Christmas day for you, eh?" Filch sneered.
Mungo nodded miserably as he blew his nose.
Filch took Mungo to his office, and Duncan was sitting in the chair that Mungo had been sitting in before. To Mungo's and, apparently, Filch's horror, he was holding a very special-looking envelope.
"YOU! I've had it with people sticking their noses into MY private papers." Filch said, walking over and snatching the envelope from Duncan's fingers. "They're not mine, understand, but they're still MY papers. Explain yourself!"
Duncan was so terrified by Filch's manic expression that he just opened and closed his mouth a little bit, rather like a nutcracker. Filch noticed this, and said,
"Stop gaping like a landed fish! What were you doing!"
Mungo, meanwhile, had peered blearily at the envelope. Filch's hand covered most of it with his hand, but the words "Quikspell Course: Lesson Four" showed.
"Hey, Duncan, aren't yer parents takin' a Quikspell course?" Mungo asked, with the innocent stupidity that comes along with the common cold.
Filch stopped roaring suddenly, and wiped a bit of spit from his mouth.
"What?" he asked with an empty kind of voice.
"What?" Duncan echoed.
"Aren't yer parents takin' a Quikspell course? Ye mentioned it some time, didn't ye?" Mungo asked. Then he realized that now wasn't the time to discuss Duncan's family.
"Yes, they are, Mungo. What's your point?" Duncan said in a tone of voice that told Mungo that now was most certainly not the time.
"Erm… Nothin'. Jus'… Hoots." Mungo finished off lamely.
"Well, if we have all that settled, let's get about your punishments. Ten points from Hufflepuff, for each of you. That should do for starters… You're not old enough to go to Hogsmeade… Bah, three detentions sessions with Hagrid and his gamekeeping duties ought to be enough. Better make it fifteen points each."
Mungo now gaped like Duncan. Three detentions… Traipsing about in the cold snow… Mungo was about to protest, but Duncan cut in.
"See here! I may not have been acting straight next to the line, but Mungo hasn't jolly done anything! You're just being sour and loathsome because you're a Squib!" He roared, poking Filch's jacket forcefully with his finger.
Filch, in a flying rage slapped Duncan's hand away from his jacket and backed away.
"You try to be me! You try to spend seven years with people teasing you, and asking, 'Did you snap your wand off a tree?' 'Why don't you show me and my friends here how you failed the Levitating Charm?' You try living with that!" Filch was now being very unpleasant by now, eyes popping and spittle flying from his lips, thankfully falling short of Duncan.
Mungo's lungs were very congested by now, but he made an effort to say something.
"Duncan's lived with it fer ten years. Both o' his parents are Squibs, an' I bet ye tha' two Squibs are worse than one. It's worse fer ye if yer parents are embarrassing than if ye are." Mungo said. But, as usual, he realized that he had said the wrong things yet again. Filch looked like he was going to explode, and he pointed to the door.
"OUT!" He roared.
Mungo and Duncan hurriedly complied, Mungo nearly doubled over with coughing. They walked back to the Hufflepuff common room, and sat in silent thought about the day's occurrences.
"You know what Mungo?" Duncan said at last.
"Aye, Duncan?"
"I think it best if you never, ever try to speak up for me whenever you're sick."
"Aye, Duncan." Mungo agreed.
Another awkward silence followed.
"At least we know one thing." Duncan said again, breaking the silence.
"What? Other than I'm going to need to carry Pepper-up Potion in me pockets?" Mungo said irately. His throat was quite sore again.
"We know Malfoy is not the Heir of Slytherin. Or any other suspect on our list." Duncan said determinedly.
"What makes ye say tha'?"
Duncan looked around furtively to see if no one was listening. There wasn't anyone there, most students had gone home for Christmas.
"Well, I got into the Slytherin common room myself."
"Duncan!" Mungo exclaimed, rather shocked.
"I know, I know, Mungo, but listen. I heard some Slytherins say the password, Pureblood, and I decided to get in and do some sneaking myself. I covered my badge with my scarf, and went in."
"Merlin's Beard!" Mungo exclaimed.
"I hovered in the background as Malfoy, that stupid git, absolutely poured out information to Potter and Weasley. And one of the things he said was 'I wish I knew who he was.' And then, upon closer enquiry by Potter, he said, 'You know I don't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you!'"
"Indicating that he didn't know."
"And if he didn't know, that probably rules out Erebus. And if it rules out Erebus, it probably rules out Morrigan as well."
"Well, good job, Duncan. Oh, hold on a tick." Mungo fell into a fit of sneezing, and it was several moments before he could be in a proper state to listen to Duncan.
"Soo what happened next?" Mungo asked.
"Bad luck. Potter and Weasley ran out in a very large hurry, and in passing they bumped me, and knocked my scarf off from over my badge. I didn't notice, and I was just about to leave quietly when a big Slytherin grabbed me and said, 'Little rodent stirred too far from his den!' As if he didn't know that badgers aren't rodents. Anyway, mercifully he took me to Filch instead of keeping me there and letting the other Slytherins at me."
"And noo here we are, and more hopeless than when we started." Mungo said.
However, nothing happened, despite Mungo's dire statement. December passed, as well as January with classes proceeding like normal. Everyone began to think that whatever had been in the Chamber had gone away, and Professor Lockhart even began congratulating himself on making the heir go back into hiding. It almost grew painful as he strutted up and down his classroom, bragging about what would have happened if he had encountered the Heir. Thankfully, Mungo's cold improved at the same rate as the despair of the place lessened, and Professor Lockhart's bragging grew worse, so it was not so unbearable.
His detentions with Hagrid's almost were, however. Hagrid, though enormous and very fierce-looking, was a very kindly man, but the tasks he gave them were very unpleasant. They were to bury some roosters that had apparently died, and were very smelly and dreadfully cold. Hagrid, who had a weakness for all animals overwhelming Duncan's fondness of cats, made them dig pits about three feet deep, and almost looked as if he was going to say a few words for the roosters when they had finished with all of them. Duncan grew very thoughtful over these sessions, and Mungo's hands grew cold (Several days before he had been forced to send his dragon-hide gloves back home to be mended, as they had developed a bad tear.)
After the final detention, Mungo and Duncan were heading back up to the castle in relief. It was starting to rain, one of those horrid, cold, wet, muddy storms, and Mungo was anxious to be back inside. He had, thankfully, put a water-repelling charm on his hat, so that was safe. However, Duncan and Mungo were still freezing, soaked to the bone by the rain before they had reached the castle half-way. When they reached the doors to the entrance hall, they looked as if they had participated in the Olympic belly-flop event.
"Oh! I've completely forgotten." Duncan exclaimed suddenly.
"What? Ye didn' ferget yer gloves?" Mungo asked in horror. Duncan had been kind enough to lend Mungo his gloves during his absent-minded moments, and if Duncan lost his gloves, Mungo didn't know what he would do.
"No, no, they're right here. But I discovered something about the chickens."
"Roosters." Mungo corrected.
"Exactly, roosters. You spotted it too. All the birds we buried were roosters."
"So?"
Duncan groaned.
"Didn't you read any of those books about basilisks that I got from the library?"
"Erm… I leafed through them." Mungo admitted. He had been far too preoccupied to do hardly any amount of reading at all, barely enough to do his schoolwork. Unless it was his Potions or Transfiguration homework…
"Well, there are only two things really certain to kill a basilisk: its reflection, and the crowing of a rooster. The Heir, whoever it was, killed off Hagrid's roosters."
"How do you know? Why shouldn't it be a fox or something?" Mungo asked. Duncan's theory seemed a little off to him.
"They weren't bitten or clawed." Duncan said.
Mungo shuddered and said,
"They might have gotten sick…"
"They were all damaged, and if they had gotten sick, then the hens would have gotten sick too." Duncan replied promptly.
"You read the wrong books, Duncan… Yer mind's gettin' grisly."
Duncan continued pointedly as if he hadn't heard. It had been concluded a while ago: Duncan didn't bother Mungo about plaid, and Mungo didn't bother Duncan about the books Duncan read.
"Anyway, that means the Heir of Slytherin is still around Hogwarts. And he's clever enough to know that the roosters should be eliminated." Duncan concluded. They had reached the entrance hall, and Mungo was warming his hands by a nearby torch.
"Well, we know the Heir is still around Hogwarts, he attacked barely a week ago."
"Would either of you two like a good-luck charm? I just got some from my aunt, never know when they might come in handy against the Heir!" a voice suddenly said. It was a short Gryffindor fifth-year, with his backpack rather bulging. A roaring trade had started amongst the students, and, though Mungo and Duncan themselves weren't taken in, several students in the school were, especially an accident-prone second-year Gryffindor. The trade had died down somewhat with the lack of attacks, but in some students the spark of commercial enterprise lived on.
"Noo, thank ye fer th' offer though." Mungo said, turning the vender away. The Gryffindor muttered in a frustrated voice as Mungo continued.
"Where was I?" Mungo asked Duncan.
"You repeated that the Heir was still around Hogwarts." Duncan said. He was polishing his wand, holding it up to the torchlight.
"Oh, yeah." Mungo said. Mungo was about to follow up on that thread, but then he saw Neoni coming down the main stairway. She was holding a letter, and was looking rather worried.
"I say, Neoni, d'ye care fer a word?" Mungo called out. Neoni looked up, and came over. She wrinkled her nose slightly.
"Something kind of smells…" She said cautiously.
"Oh, we were dooin' detention wi' Hagrid. But tha's noot th' point. Would ye believe us if we told ye we knew what is attacking the students?"
Duncan dropped his wand in shock.
"Mungo!" he exclaimed.
Neoni, meanwhile, looked amazed.
"You know who the Heir of Slytherin is?" She asked hopefully.
"Noo, noo, but we knoo tha' a basilisk is attacking th' students." Mungo said. Then he explained about all of his and Duncan's discoveries, and their evidence. Duncan looked very sour that Mungo was telling all this to an apparent stranger, but he held his tongue.
"But we doon't knoo who is setting it on people." Mungo said. "We jus' knoo tha' it isn' anyone from Slytherin."
Neoni looked very thoughtful. Then she said,
"But why should it necessarily be a student? Why shouldn't it be a teacher?"
That made sense to Mungo. Why shouldn't it be, after all? Adults could probably handle a basilisk better than a student.
Mungo's musings was broken by a dry cough from Duncan.
"That is indeed an interesting theory, but if one of the teachers was indeed the Heir of Slytherin, then the Chamber would have been opened much more recently." Duncan said.
"You mean it's been opened before?" Neoni and Mungo both asked at once."
"Yes, Malfoy said it had. And he said that a Muggle-born girl died that time. So, as soon as I had free time, I looked up Hogwarts' annals, and the last death at Hogwarts was fifty years ago, under circumstances that have been hushed up. And guess what? It was a Muggle-born girl."
"And the only teachers that we know who might be that old are Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore himself." Neoni murmured.
Mungo looked around the room, and saw Neoni's letter still in her hands. It was apparently from her parents, probably giving her instructions for safety. This gave Mungo an idea.
"I say, what if the Heir is actin' through an agent? Like he's noot anywhere here, but he's got a student or someone following his orders that he's sendin' from somewhere else?"
"Or maybe not even acting to his will, but using an Imperius Curse…" Duncan said.
"What's an Imperius Curse?" Mungo asked.
"An Imperius Curse is a spell that puts a person under control of the caster. The caster can make the victim do anything. Anyway, the target has to be a Parselmouth. Who's to say that someone isn't casting the Imperius Curse on Harry Potter himself?"
Neoni and Mungo thought this over. People were beginning to file into the Great Hall for lunch, and Mungo watched them with envious eyes while he thought.
"I suppose it might be plausible… I mean, noo one would suspect Potter…" Mungo said.
"Pah! No one except for about half of the school." Duncan pointed out.
"Yes, but that was after he revealed that he could speak Parseltongue." Neoni said.
"I'm hungry…" Mungo muttered.
"Yes, but he still defeated You-Know-Who, almost the last person to suspect except for Dumbledore." Duncan continued, ignoring Mungo. "He'd be the perfect tool."
"Yet, now that he has shown that he can speak Parseltongue, he's useless. Could that be why the attacks have eased up?"
"I'm still hungry…" Mungo said quietly.
"Obviously, the Heir has some kind of goal, and I sincerely doubt that he has accomplished this with just four victims. What do the students and Mrs. Norris have in common?" Duncan asked.
"They're all Muggle-born or associated with non-magicals." Mungo said, the notion dawning on him.
"What? Filch isn't a wizard?" Neoni asked, puzzled.
"No, we foond out that he's a Squib." Mungo said. "But let's discuss this later, it's gettin' crowded." Indeed, the trickle of hungry students had turned into a stream.
Mungo, Duncan, and Neoni went into the Great Hall, and Mungo and Duncan went to the Hufflepuff table while Neoni went to her House's table.
"Who was that, anyway?" Duncan asked as he ate some sausage.
"She was the girl who Silenced Morrigan, and she helped me oot a while ago against Morrigan and Erebus. Oh, right, I fergot to tell ye," And Mungo explained to Duncan about his encounter with Erebus and Morrigan.
"Oh." Was all he said.
After lunch, they couldn't find Neoni anywhere, so they went up to the Hufflepuff common room to do some more of their homework. Mungo checked on the potion (it was still fermenting, but Mungo could take it down to Professor Sprout tomorrow) and sat down, drawing a map of Jupiter as best as he could.
He was still working when he heard some Hufflepuff girls say,
"Moaning Myrtle flooded the second-floor bathroom again, honestly, you'd think she'd have gotten over it by now… Whatever it was."
Mungo's hand slipped, making an ugly black line across his map. Of course, it was obvious.
Mungo flung his map away from him, and went to Duncan, who was napping over his Transfiguration notes. He shook him roughly until Duncan woke up, blinking like a stunned owl.
"Duncan, I've just had a brilliant idea! We should ask th' ghosts aboot when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and why it stopped again, and almost anything!" Mungo said, his grammar suffering in his excitement.
"Well, I suppose that would work. I saw the Fat Friar not so long ago." Duncan said, pointing at the far wall.
"That means he could be anywhere… Come oon, we should find him or some other ghost." Mungo dragged Duncan out of his couch and out of the common room.
Fortunately, the Fat Friar was right there in the corridor leading to the tower, having an argument with a portrait of a green-cloaked woman on the wall.
"I should be allowed to pass through whichever portraits I wish, Ma'am. It is my privilege as a ghost." The Fat Friar was explaining to the painting, but she would not see reason.
"If you ever pass through my painting again, I'll have you banished, I swear!" she shrieked. The Friar sighed and shook his head, and walked away. Regretfully, he walked through Mungo and Duncan.
"Gah, brr…" Duncan exclaimed.
"Oh, I say, I'm sorry." The Fat Friar apologized profusely.
"Noo, noo, never mind him. We have a question to ask you." Mungo said, interrupting. "Do ye remember when a girl died under strange circumstances, about fifty years agoo?" he asked boldly.
The Fat Friar looked disconcerted.
"Yes, yes, I do. It was a bad time, a very bad time. Lots of attacks, but they got the man responsible, and he was expelled and sent to Azkaban." He answered.
Mungo caught his breath. It was almost too good to be true.
"Do ye remember who it was?" Mungo asked with bated breath.
"Yes, I do. They expelled Rubeus Hagrid."
