Harry Potter and the Wolf of the Eighth Floor

by Minas Morgul

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his sixth year, not knowing what hazardous attacks lie ahead in store for him. As he and his best friends, Ron and Hermione, journey through this ominous year, a myriad of surprises are conjured up for them to witness.

28. The Wolf of the Eighth Floor

28 (The Wolf of the Eighth Floor)

For the two's surprise, the foul looking wolf meant them no harm.
"I am the traveling shadow of the wolf of the eighth floor," declared the wolf grimly. His voice echoed all over the kitchens.
Harry and Hermione could've sworn that they didn't understand what he meant.
"What…what exactly are you?" asked Hermione, trembling, from behind Harry's head.
"I told you already," replied the shadow angrily, "I am the traveling shadow of the wolf of the eighth floor. You may not know what I mean, but soon you'll find out."
Harry stared at the shadow, which seemed closer to him than ever before. He had a tight grip on his wand.
"You may decide to cast a spell on me, Mr. Potter," began the shadow, "but I tell you not to do so, for I am not affected by spells, enchantments, and charms."
That made Harry even more worried about his situation. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and Hermione was clutching him tightly, which made him safe.
"Who is the wolf of the eighth floor if you don't mind me asking?" queried Harry, afraid that the shadow might attack them or something.
However, the shadow remained silent for a moment, and then got a wicked grin on his face.
"He's the last creature that He Who Must Not Be Named selected to be a follower," explained the shadow, his looks absolutely focused on Harry and Hermione.
"When did he select him?" squeaked Hermione, still frightened.
"Last year, if I'm not mistaken. The Boy Who Lived once again messed things up for the Dark Lord. I believe they say a battle was carried out in the Department of Mysteries."
Harry nodded his head.
"Well, after departure, the Dark Lord had no other place to go to; he knew that his life was coming to an end. He knew that soon it'll be all over," growled the shadow.
"Where did he take refuge in?" asked Harry, wondering if the shadow was setting a plan to trick them.
The wolf had yet another grin on his face, as his eyes narrowed.
"Good point, Mr. Potter," pointed out the shadow, "his most faithful Death Eater, by the name of Peter Pettigrew, found him an abandoned place that no human or bird lived in. That Death Eater used to live there in his youth, for he had never went to any kind of school, until he reached adulthood, and the Dark Lord took over his mind. For as many as months now, the Dark Lord has been living in Dark Valley."

Hermione's jaw dropped; she remembered the attack of the crows, several months ago. The crow that increased in size and strangely talked to them informed them that those crows were servants of Lord Voldemort, and they came from Dark Valley.
"Then again, the Dark Lord had no plans yet to carry out," spoke the shadow truthfully, "but then, he noticed a grey wolf that climbed down and up the valley almost daily. Little did the wolf know what the Dark Lord had in mind. After days of thinking, the Dark Lord summoned the wolf, and planted hatred and evil in his soul. He used all the dark magic he ever knew. This leads back to the wolf of the eighth floor."
Harry was calmer now than at the beginning, and Hermione loosened her grip on his jacket.
"I'm telling you know, that I'm peaceful and wish you no harm at all. Although the wolf himself is evil, I, the shadow, am the opposite. You see, there's something the Dark Lord didn't pay attention to. When he turned the friendly wolf into an evil servant, his soul got out. And I claim that I am that soul. I don't know why, but this is what happened. Our minds seemed to be thinking in the exact opposite way. The wolf is trying to hurt you, Mr. Potter. On the other hand, I am here to protect you,"
Harry didn't quite understand the wolf's said statement. Hermione was puzzled too. How can a soul be exactly opposite from its own body?
"I came here to warn you," spoke the wolf, his voice rising in pitch, "beware the wolf of the eighth floor, for he awaits your arrival as the fifth month of the year dies, and the sixth month is born."
"And where is that wolf living?" asked Harry, perplexed. The wolf's speaking seemed like riddles.
"You know where he lives. I repeat, he's called the wolf of the eighth floor," repeated the shadow grimly.
It was as though had jus realized it. Of course, the evil wolf was living here at Hogwarts, on the eighth floor!
"Impossible!" screamed Harry in disbelief. "It can't be!"
"Whatever you say, Mr. Potter. It is true. Without anybody's notice, the wolf came all the way from Dark Valley, to reach this huge castle. He's currently lying motionlessly on the wooden floor of an empty room on the eighth floor. No one has ever visited that room, not since old Professor Benjamin Ladox used to hide in it from the caretaker," and he let out a loud laugh.
Still, Harry didn't understand the purpose of the wolf of the eighth floor being asleep.
"Why is he motionless? Shouldn't he be spreading evil and nasty deeds between everybody?" asked Hermione, anxious to get an immediate answer.
"My dear girl," snarled the shadow, "he lies without moving for months more. Until the dawn of the sixth month, specifically on the eighth day of it, he's practically dead still. After that, goodness knows what terrible things he shall do."
The sound of "terrible" didn't seem quite satisfying, and it raised Harry's temper and sense of loss above normal.
"Terrible? What will he do?" asked Harry impatiently.
"His howling will freeze the body, his laughs will summon the souls to him. His evil and nastiness are far beyond any evil wizard has known," claimed the shadow.
Harry's mind was now full. What seemed like riddles confused him. He was lost in thoughts of the future. Why? Why has Voldemort been this cruel for a century? Why does he have to be wicked, and rule the magical world? Why does he have to use innocent creatures as his faithful servants?
"Now that I have warned you, I must leave," prattled the shadow, "and may the sword of Anystal be at your service." And with that, the shadow flew away hastily.
"Wait, what if…" began Harry desperately, but no answer was revealed from the shadow. It took him about a fraction of a second to disappear from sight. Harry and Hermione were left alone in the kitchens, illuminated by Hermione's wand, and Harry's sword, which was beginning to wane.
"This is the sword of Anystal?" shrieked Hermione.
"What?" asked Harry, "this?" and he pointed at the sword Professor Lupin gave him.
"Yes," answered Hermione, "this is a legend. Didn't you know?"
Harry shook his head, wondering if the name Anystal ever was mentioned in the books he's read.
"This sword was manufactured first in the mid seventeenth century. It was designed to fight the forces of evil. It worked as a compass, to point out the direction of the coming evil. It also glowed yellow whenever danger was near. Anystal was buried here at Hogwarts ages and ages ago. I don't know how Professor Lupin ever managed to get hold of it, but I'm telling you…this could be the second useful weapon after a wand. It was also named Anystal after its master, Ned Anystal," explained Hermione.
"What good can it do? Lupin told me that one good stroke would cut the neck of the enemy, but I also have to hit with intense feelings," conversed Harry, grabbing Hermione's hand carefully, and then lighting his wand to find a path that would lead to the exit.
"It can do loads of stuff," whispered Hermione, "it can be used to kill enemies, to slay the most vicious dragons on land, to point you north when you're lost, to glow in the darkness; it can be used as a shield that protects you from stunning spells, and much more, Harry."
"I believe you," muttered Harry quickly. Hermione knew that he just said that to end the conversation.

A few minutes later, the two left the great kitchens of Hogwarts, and made sure the door was locked behind them.
"Nox!" said Harry and Hermione, watching their wands' light vanish.

No one was wandering along the corridors; practically everyone was asleep in their dormitories. The staff was probably just finishing off their lesson plans, and Mr. Filch could be stroking Mrs. Norris's head.
At last, the portrait of the Fat Lady stood before them.
"Now where have you too been at this time of night?" asked the Fat Lady, rather curious about what was going on.
"Never you mind," replied Hermione, sounding rude, "Pineapple pudding!"
At once, the door sprang open, and the Fat Lady's face carried a disapproving smirk.
The common room was perfectly empty by now. Some rolls of parchment were left on the wooden table; they happened to be Dennis Creevey's instructions of how to be the organizing worker of the Study Society. The fire was still glowing orange and bright yellow, and yet no one asked its warmth.
"Well, it's good to be back from the kitchens," murmured Harry, relieved.
"Yes," agreed Hermione, still looking scared, "those warnings have practically driven me mad."
By now, Harry's legs were stiff of walking and meandering through the kitchens, and his hands felt numb. What he needed was a five to six hour sleep that would clear his mind of all thoughts. Harry definitely needed a Pensieve.

"Goodnight," yawned Hermione, as she waved goodbye to Harry.
"Night," he replied, shutting the door behind him.
Into his dormitory he stepped. Ron seemed far away in dreams, for he was surely sleeping deeply. Dean and Seamus weren't snoring, to Harry's relief; however, they kept rolling on their beds, which made obnoxious and annoying noises. Neville's snoring was as usual, loud as a trumpet.
Harry fell on his bed; he didn't even care to pull on the blanket. He laid his glasses on the table beside him, and stared at the window. The first thing that he saw was his owl, Hedwig, peacefully sleeping. Second, he looked at the dark and starry sky, wondering what would happen tomorrow.

For hours, which seemed like days, Harry didn't close an eye. He kept thinking unceasingly about the wolf of the eighth floor. How was he going to defeat him in the end, if his cruelty was beyond imaginable? And how was the sword of Anystal going to be of any use? What would he do to save victims, who will have their bodies frozen, and their souls gone? These questions were tiring him, and he was getting weary from wonders and thoughts. Truly, as Dumbledore has mentioned before, a Pensieve can be of great use, if you feel that your mind is overloaded with information. Harry gave up; he knew that it was now less likely of him to sleep. Dawn was approaching, and he had to prepare for another day.

Suddenly, a familiar sound broke the silence of the common room. It was more like a cry…a cry of sadness and grief. Harry thought he was imagining it for a while, but then he heard it more carefully. The cry was coming from downstairs, and it was painful to hear. Intrigued, Harry put on is glasses, and got out of bed. Slowly, he walked, vigilant to make no noise, across his dormitory, and reached the door. Quietly, without a crack, the door was opened.
Harry's eyes were still when he saw the source of the cry…
It was Hermione! She was wearing a navy blue skirt, and a white long sleeved shirt. She had her head buried between her knees, and he could see tear stains on her sleeve. She was totally in grief, and seemed to despair something.

"Hermione?" began Harry calmly. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, Harry," mumbled Hermione, rubbing off a tear, "I…I'm sorry that I…woke you up."
"Never mind that," talked Harry, sitting on the armchair, "why are you crying?"
Hermione slowly looked at the ground, and then back again at Harry.
"Can't you grasp it?"
"What?" asked Harry, confused.
"This war has to come to an end," cried Hermione, "I can't stand this…this evil and madness…Professor Dumbledore fears things may go wrong at school, and that's why he postponed the Hogsmeade trip…that…that shadow has come to warn us of this…mysterious wolf, living on the eighth floor…and soon, Voldemort's Death Eaters will arrive and start chaos…" and at that moment, she burst into heavy tears. Not only she meant what she said, but actually felt it deeply in her heart.
Harry got up from the armchair, and sat beside Hermione.
"Honestly, Hermione," whispered Harry, "what's your point?"
Hermione, who had been deep in tears looked at him in silence for a few moments.
"Harry…I'm…I'm scared," admitted Hermione uneasily, "I'm afraid of this whole matter that's threatening what was once good and peaceful."
Here's where Harry began paying closer attention to the words that came out of her mouth.
"Harry," trembled Hermione, "you know what…Voldemort…loathes most…Muggleborns…and…and I'm one of them."
For some moments, Harry focused on what she was saying. Apparently, he had not received the main message yet.
"Well…" began Hermione, sobbing in tears, "if he's after Muggleborns…then I shall be the…the…first to be caught. More than a point, I don't want to have a short life. However, I want to live for long ages, to see the new generations of wizard kind. And…I wouldn't fancy losing you…. or Ron…or Ginny…or all the others…. Harry, a friend…a true friend is precious, and…and…this friend had better be not gone."

At this phase, Hermione was swallowing a lump in her throat. The feelings were too intense for her, and she couldn't handle them anymore.

Harry finally realized what she was trying to say. He felt remorse for not understanding his best friend from the very first moment of a conversation. He felt something arise in him. It was those feelings again…the evolved feelings of care, friendship, and possibly…. love. Harry, now, wanted to do the most soothing thing that would bring her comfort and relief. Slowly, his arm found its way around Hermione's shoulders.
Hermione, who had her face between her palms, stopped crying momentarily. Her hand was soaked with tears, and so was her sleeve. She slowly lifted her head, and turned it sideways, facing Harry. A fervent look of appreciation and warm love appeared on his face. In addition to that, Hermione suddenly felt safe when the hand of her best friend was placed around her slump shoulders.
"Hermione," began Harry, as if he was going to lecture her, "we've been through lots of dangers and adventures, and you see…we never lost against Voldemort and his followers. We always came out of whatever trouble we were involved in…. I suppose because of our skills, and a bit of good luck."
"But…what if this time, we had no luck?" asked Hermione, still apprehensive.
"If we had it five times, we'll have it this time," replied Harry, rubbing Hermione's right shoulder gently. "Well, I'm not positive, but I'm hoping it would happen again."
Hermione nodded, her mouth only half an inch open.
"Then again, I assure you that you don't need to worry about your safety…our safety in general…because we'll be around to look out for you Hermione, once you've truly lost hope and began to despair…everyone will be around to provide safety and vigilance…and if anyone failed to accomplish this goal…then…then I'll be there for you."
Instantly, Hermione glanced at his beaming face and eyes. Never in her life, had she known so much care and responsibility…and sacrifice.
"You're too valuable to lose, Hermione," murmured Harry quietly, "we couldn't afford to lose the cleverest witch in our year."
Reluctantly, Hermione let out a silent laugh.
After that, Harry's hand sensed a gentle touch. It was Hermione's hand, stroking his. Harry turned his head, to see his hand in the firm grip of Hermione's soft hand. It was coming now…he had to confess…he had to tell her, no matter what the price was…he couldn't hold it in his chest for any longer…he wanted to let it out, and he felt that this was the most suitable moment for him to do so.
"Hermione?" spoke Harry.
"Yes Harry?" she asked, her face covered with her hair; she moved it away to the sides afterwards.
"I…" hesitated Harry, "I…I've been longing to tell you something…something highly significant and brilliant to me."
Hermione had a feeling, that merely told her what was in his mind.
"What is it?" she asked again, with the brightest smile showing on her fair face. Hermione moved closer to him at this very moment.
"This is a bit difficult for me to say," confirmed Harry, "but I'll have to tell you anyway. Look, we've been…best friends…for five years, and this is the sixth year running. So…I…I thought it was time that friendship evolves and turns into something…. something even better and far too exhilarating…I mean, you've helped me loads of times…and I'll never be able to repay you…or even present you with the appropriate reward one could think of."
"Your friendship and honesty are enough for me," whispered Hermione; her tears fell silently.
"Anyway," mumbled Harry, catching onto his breath, "I just wanted to express my true feelings to you. Afterall, you've done things that no adult wizard or witch would've dared to do. So…I…I had this mad idea, about telling you something that could be a little…embarrassing and surprising."
"What?" asked Hermione, impatiently.
"Hermione," sighed Harry, "I…I…I"
"Yes? Go on," whispered Hermione impatiently, encouraging him.
Harry looked at her for a moment, and thought of how his next statement was going to affect his and her life, for it had a…heavy…meaning.
"I…love you," and with that, he came to and end. Harry was absolutely glad that he finally got if off his chest, but still, he was worried about Hermione's reaction.
He was watching his feet, speechless. What if she didn't want this from him?
Slowly, Hermione, who thought of cheering and celebrating this occasion, held his left hand between both of her hands. At first, she was confused and very surprised of his confession. Then, she joyfully gazed dreamingly at his face.
"Really?" she asked, feeling happy as another tear dropped from her watery eyes.
"Yes…" replied Harry quickly, enjoying Hermione's soft hands tickling his rigid hands.
"You do? You mean beyond friendship?"
"Yes, Hermione," responded Harry, desperate to let out the words that have been trapped in a cage, "I've been wanting to tell you for so long. I could've hardly waited, but now you know…you know what you mean to me…for the past years, you've always been around me whenever I was off to adventures…and Ron gave support too…but you, you were the one who came with resolutions…you were the one witch who sacrificed herself for peace and good…you gave us clues to whatever wonders and questions we had in mind. And in third year, the most memorable year to me, you showed bravery and courage far more than I ever observed it distinctly in you… you had the Time Turner, and you helped me get back in time to save a beloved guide and friend, who's now at Heaven's doors…and you helped me rescue an innocent Hippogriff, to bring joy to Hagrid…and when the Dementors came around, I had no other choice but to perform the Patronus charm…I had to save you Hermione… I couldn't have let you go that easily…and when you flew with me on Buckbeak to save Sirius…it was the point where I felt closest to you than ever… you held my waist so tight, and you didn't let go... it was as if you and I were one… I just…"
"That's enough," interrupted Hermione, smiling at him. "Harry, thanks for everything you did. Thanks for saving the Philosopher's Stone…thank you for getting rid of the school's fear in second year…thanks for saving an innocent man, and for saving an innocent magical creature who meant no harm…thanks for risking your life through a dangerous tournament…thanks for everything." Hot warm tears fell like a waterfall from her eyes.

Suddenly, she burst into weeping, and flung herself at Harry. She hugged him tightly, and rested her chin on his shoulder. Harry himself felt the same exact way. The romantic moments have revealed themselves at last.
Then, Hermione lifted her chin from Harry's shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes…into the clear mirror that reflected bravery, courage, peace, and love. It was probably her turn now.
"Harry, forgive me for saying this so lately. I was just waiting for the right moment. I love you too!" whispered Hermione, crying.
"I… don't believe this," commented Harry, his eyes shiny "you loved me? For all this time, you never dared to tell me?"
"Why should I be so hasty? Besides... I was worried,"
"But…I thought you fancied Krum,"
"And I thought you fancied Cho,"
By that, Harry was silenced. He felt that Hermione practically sitting on his lap…so close that their noses almost touched.
"Hermione," said Harry, wrapping his hands gently around her tender neck, "I love you."
Hermione looked at him, exploding with happiness.
"I love you too," she whispered.
Then…something unusual to the two of them happened. Actually, it happened automatically, and the two had no other choice. The moment has come at last…the love was confessed, the appreciation was informed, and the romance was present.
Hermione slowly moved forwards, her tears falling on Harry's t-shirt. She closed her eyes, and so did he.
At last, it seemed as if the moon and the sun met, after a long loss and separation. Hermione's lips were pressing gently on Harry's, and he kissed her back. For so long, Harry wished to do this, and now his dream has come true. The wonderful sensation took the two to dream world. The beautiful taste of Hermione's soft lips was spreading on Harry's, which he enjoyed very much. Hermione thought of his lips as bliss that she never had in life.

Eventually, the lips let go of each other, not for the last time, as Harry thought.
Harry and Hermione were breathing intensely, after such a brilliant experience. Harry's eyes weren't blinking, for they have been gazing at Hermione's.
"That was," began Harry, "amazing!"
"I know," nodded Hermione, "it was wonderful."
"Have you ever had the nerve to do such thing?" asked Harry, wondering if Hermione was going to answer.
"No," replied Hermione, who was now sitting on Harry's lap, "never in life."
"Hermione," yelped Harry, "I love you…I always have, and forever I will."
She smiled at him.
"And so shall I," she assured him that he was a precious diamond to loose.
For the mean time, Hermione had thrown herself on him again, and hugged him for the last time for that night. Harry stroked her hair, and softly kissed her neck.
For half an hour, they sat there on the chair. Until at last, Harry felt that Hermione grew drowsy, and dozed off. Gladly, Harry placed his hands underneath her neck and legs, and stood up. Although she was a bit heavy, he was delighted to carry her to her bed.
And carried her to her bed, he did.
Cautiously, he pushed the girls' dormitory's door open with a soft kick from his left leg. He walked between the two beds, which were occupied by Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Then, he saw the third bed in the center beside the window.
Gently as he could, he put her on the bed, and covered her with the thick and warm blanket. Harry never wished to leave her, but he had to. For the last time that night, he planted a soft kiss on her cheek. He saw a smile on her face, and inferred that Hermione might've felt it, but was too tired to wake up.
Out of the door he went, and headed to his own dormitory. Filled with happiness, joy, and relief, he crept into his bed. He crept into his untidy bed, and hastily covered himself with the blanket. Harry was so delighted that finally, he's been able to express the emotions that had been trapped for ages inside him. Yet, he thought it was so ironic. Love usually existed in a world of peace, not evil and cruelty. He didn't even take off his glasses to sleep. Then, he looked at his pet owl, Hedwig, who was hooting softly, with her head concealed behind her wings. He gave the starry sky one hopeful look, wondering if Sirius was up there by now. Harry wished Sirius could've seen this. He wanted him to be here for guidance and warning. However, what happened had happened, and Sirius was lost forever. Harry had thought he'd seen a glimpse of light, far away on the horizon. Dawn was approaching, and he hasn't slept all night. At last, a dreamy sensation took over, and into the shadows he sank.