Chapter 15—A Letter From America

Dear Ryan,

I've only just received your mum's post, so excuse my lateness in writing to you. She tells me you're now attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Darling, I simply couldn't be prouder! A full-blooded witch in the family! I suppose this means I owe you an explanation.

I am a wizard, as I'm sure you've deduced, as was your grandfather. Neither of us attended Hogwarts; your grandfather went to an academy near Manaus, Brazil, though he was British in parentage, and rose within the Brazilian Ministry under an assumed name. When I was born, he sent me off to Switzerland for boarding school, and I was accepted into the Interlaken Academy of Magical Arts there. I moved to London after I finished school, and met your mother.

I'm currently in America, though I'm not doing what your mother thinks I am. She never knew my true occupation, or my status as wizard. If you truly wish to know, I am doing some business in the American Ministry, as a favour to some old school friends of mine. I wish I could have seen you off. Hogwarts is a marvellous school, and I want you to study hard and make your mother and me proud.

I'm wrangling to get Christmas off, so come home, and I can tell you everything more fully. Your mum writes that you and Jon were believers from the start; that's my girl! Pay attention to your professors, and write back when you get the chance.

Much love,

Papa

Ryan re-folded the letter. What about that timing? She confirmed her half-blood status on the day where everyone who wasn't a pureblood lived in fear. Her father wanted her to write back; should she tell him about the attack? It was just a cat, after all, and he couldn't tell her anything new. He'd never gone to Hogwarts, nor had her grandfather. But didn't Malfoy say that his aunt knew a Lapitske? Had that been her father? But he was in Switzerland for school; how would he have known any British witches?

"Well, that tells me everything and nothing," she said. "I guess I should write back, though…"

"It really was your dad, then?" asked Finn. Ryan nodded dumbly. "And he's a wizard?" Ryan nodded again.

"I think we should be getting to class," said Fi, and she stood up and walked off without another word. Ryan watched her go with a frown.

"Are we supposed to follow?" she asked.

"Nope," said Ben breezily. Finn, surprisingly, agreed.

"I don't think so. I think Fi is just scared."

"Scared? Of my dad?"

"No, Ryan, she's scared of this Chamber. She probably thinks that you're protected now, because of your dad." Ryan's brow furrowed.

"But…that doesn't make sense. Slytherin just wanted purebloods. I'm still at risk, and…how do you know all that, anyway?" she demanded. When would Finn have had a chance to talk to Fi and learn all this?

"I don't. I'm just guessing."

"Hell of a guess," said Ben. Finn twitched instinctively at the swear; Ryan suppressed a giggle. "Who cares? She's so moody, anyway." Ryan glared at him. He shrugged, as if that defended everything. "Well, it's true."

"She's right," said Ryan, "we should be getting to class." Ben sighed.

"Transfiguration. I can't wait."

Class was subdued that day, and unnaturally quiet, as though speaking would bring down a torrent of Slytherin-born chaos. In fact, Ben commented that they might all have been petrified themselves, for all the life they showed. It was a poor joke; Robina—and most of the class—glared at him, a few even turning their wands on him, though that course of action was quickly snuffed by McGonagall. Mel turned dead white, and was rendered incapable of doing magic for the rest of the period. McGonagall took five points away from Ravenclaw, increasing his classmates' enmity.

"Ben, you better learn to keep your mouth shut, or it won't be Slytherin you'll have to be worried about," muttered Ryan in a low voice, tapping her hairpin twice. She couldn't do magic when she didn't concentrate; instead of turning into a feather, her hairpin somehow sprouted legs and began to scuttle along the desk. "Catch that!" Ben didn't, glaring at her obstinately. It was up to Finn to scoop it up before it fell off the desk. McGonagall came by, frowning disapprovingly, and tapped the struggling hairpin once, reverting it back to its legless form.

"Keep your head about you, Lapitske," she said reprovingly. "Magic is no toy to be used at whim, particularly not when you give cognisance to hairpins." Ryan smiled, relieved that no points had been taken.

"Yes, professor." Ben scowled.

"How come I say something and get points taken away, but you mess up a spell and get off with a warning? What's cognisance mean, anyway?" Ryan shrugged.

"I have no idea. On both counts. Maybe because I don't say stupid things about cats getting petrified."

"Good Lord, it's just a cat! And a mean devil of a cat, too! Ask anyone here if they'll miss her. Go on, ask!"

"Ben, you're missing the point," said Finn calmly. "The point isn't that Mrs. Norris is gone. The point is that she's been attacked, and no one knows who or how."

"Want to know how?" hissed Ben, keeping a weather eye on McGonagall. "The Slytherins, that's how! It's their bloody Founder that built this stupid chamber! I say, take them all and lock them away until someone 'fesses up!"

"Must you three continue to chatter?" asked McGonagall bad-temperedly. "Five more points from Ravenclaw." They were silent for the rest of the class.

Colin popped up as they exited the castle for Herbology. Ryan jumped backwards. He always seemed to have a knack for springing from the most surprising places. He seemed positively breathless with excitement.

"Ryan, Ben, Finn! You heard what happened last night, right?"

"Heard it? I saw it," said Ryan grimly. "And it's nothing to be so happy about."

"Happy?" he looked affronted. "I'm not happy! Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets? I got the library's very last copy of Hogwarts: A History, so I can tell you all about it!"

"I've heard," said Ryan stiffly.

"And Harry's been accused!" said Colin. "Can you believe it? Harry Potter! He defeated You-Know-Who, and they think he's attacking students? It's so stupid, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," said Ben mulishly. "In fact, I bet Potter's the one behind it." Colin and Ryan gasped in unison.

"Ben, you don't really think that!" whispered Ryan, scandalized. "You can't just accuse people willy-nilly!"

"I do think it," he muttered rebelliously. "Saint Potter, you know? Seems a bit too done up. He can't really be that great. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he turned out to be this 'Heir of Slytherin' everyone's on about." Colin looked close to tears.

"Don't say that Ben, it's not true! It can't be!"

"Grow up, Colin!" he yelled. Ryan had never seen—nor thought to see—him this angry. She exchanged glances with Finn, who shrugged helplessly. "Sometimes, you have to face reality. Did you cry when your mum told you Santa Claus wasn't real?"

"No!" Colin practically screamed. "I don't believe you! I know Harry, he's in my house, he's a good boy, he's brilliant at Quidditch, he saved the wizarding world!" Ryan decided this was enough. She reached forward and latched onto Ben's arm.

"Ben, stop this," she said, teeth gritted. "You're just baiting him." He tried to jerk out of her grip but she held on firmly, and Finn caught his other arm. "Colin, go on to the greenhouse. We'll catch you up when class begins." Colin didn't need a second urging. He took off running, an action made awkward by the ever-present camera banging against his side. Ryan turned slightly until she was looking Ben straight in the eye. "All right, Ben, what was that?"

"What was what?" he said obstinately.

"Look, Ben, we're all a little on edge," said Finn, the very soul of reason, "but there's no need to go crazy."

"I'm not crazy!" he protested indignantly. "It's that stupid little Gryffindor with his stupid little camera up in everyone's business! He needs a dose of reality. Being a wizard doesn't automatically make you immortal, like a fairy tale. I hate these stupid Muggleborns, thinking they can ride unicorns and talk to fairies, that they'll have a godmother who makes everything better! Sometimes…sometimes, I think Slytherin had the right idea!" With that, he ripped free of both Ryan and Finn's grips and stalked off to the greenhouses. Ryan sighed, feeling faintly ill, and touched her robe pocket, where the letter from her father—a man she only dimly remembered—resided. How could friendships spring and be sabotaged so quickly? Was Potter really guilty? Well, one thing was certain: someone was. Someone was responsible for the tension in the school, and the petrified Mrs. Norris. Whether or not that someone was Potter, someone should be punished.