A/N: Hello again everyone! So it has been three months (yikes!) since my last update, and I'm sorry. I never meant for there to be such a long delay. And after such a long break, I really wish I had more to offer you. As usual, the chapter isn't quite as long as I had hoped it to be. But seeing as I'm heading home for Christmas tomorrow morning, it was either post what I have now or wait until January. I hope you all enjoy!
Harry immediately whirled around and took a step back, hardly noticing as he bumped right into Snape, who scowled down at the boy in displeasure at the movement.
Filch's bulging eyes moved from Mrs. Norris to Harry and back again in the silence that followed, and Snape knew that he was going to have to defuse the situation quickly.
"Argus—" the potions master began.
But the caretaker suddenly interrupted.
"You killed my cat," he said, his voice almost a whisper as the man pointed one, trembling finger straight at Harry.
"No," Harry answered, shaking his head as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over in that moment. Mrs. Norris couldn't be dead.
"YOU KILLED MY CAT!" Filch repeated in a shout, this time the words echoing off the walls of the corridor.
Harry instinctively shrank back against Snape, his heart pounding in terror.
But barely a second later, he felt the strong hand of his professor on his shoulder, steadying him. Harry instantly felt safer.
"Think very carefully about your next move, Argus," Snape spoke then, in a dangerous tone, his fingers twitching at his side, where his wand was located in a robe pocket. "Albus will be here in a moment, and then we can begin to sort this all out. But in the meantime, I would strongly suggest that you calm yourself."
"My cat is dead!" Filch exclaimed, though not as loudly as before.
"No!" Harry yelled, turning to get a better look at Snape. "She isn't really dead, is she, sir? You can save her, can't you?"
"See? He's clearly got a guilty conscience!" Filch declared. "Thought you were just pulling a little prank, didn't you, Potter? But it didn't turn out quite the way you had hope-!"
"Enough!" Snape interrupted.
And the corridor fell silent once more.
"You three, follow me!" Snape commanded, glaring down at the three Gryffindors. They all looked to be in shock, though Harry was clearly far more visibly shaken by the incident than the others.
With a firm hand still clamped down on the boy's shoulder, Snape began to steer the boy past the hanging cat and down to the other end of the corridor, his friends following close behind.
"I will be right back," he called back to the caretaker, just before he rounded the corner.
Harry's feet moved automatically. He felt sick, terrified. What had happened to Mrs. Norris? What if she didn't recover? And the voice—"
"In," the potions master directed, throwing open the door of a small room that must have once been a teacher's office. All that remained of it now, however, was a desk and two high back chairs.
Hermione looked questioningly at the professor, but the man ignored her as he raised his wand to clear the cobwebs from the furniture, and to conjure up an extra chair.
"Sit!" he said then, pushing Harry down onto the nearest seat, and glaring at the other two until they obeyed him.
"Sir, what are we doing here?" Hermione finally found her voice.
"It was either here or Lockhart's office," the man sneered, fishing around in his robes until he pulled out a large vial of calming draught, which he shoved into Harry's hand. "Two swallows, Mr. Potter. Then pass it to your friends if they think they need some."
Harry just nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.
"Stay here!" the man warned, then. "I will be back in five minutes or less."
And then the professor was gone, the door closing with a snap behind him.
Harry uncorked the vial with trembling fingers and quickly gulped down two large swallows of potion. He knew he was going to need it, if the looks on his friends' faces were anything to go by.
"Harry, what is going on?" Ron asked.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know."
"Harry," Hermione said carefully, "Back in the dungeons, you said you heard a voice. A voice that was going to… kill somebody."
Harry winced despite the spreading effect of the calming draught, but made no move to explain.
"Harry?" the girl pressed.
"It was coming from the walls," Harry finally answered. "But only I could hear it. You two didn't hear a thing. Does that mean I'm insane?"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick look.
"Hearing voices isn't exactly normal, mate," Ron began.
"But you're clearly not crazy," Hermione rushed to reassure her friend at the look on Harry's face. "I mean, clearly you were right. Whatever that voice was kil—I mean, hurt Mrs. Norris."
"Who is apparently your friend?" Ron asked, uncertain.
Harry just nodded before answering quietly. "She's helped me out a couple times this year. Even helped me to avoid Filch. I promised to give her a treat the next time I saw—"
The boy trailed off then. And his friends shared another look.
"Maybe she's okay, Harry," Hermione said. "When Dumbledore comes, he'll know what to do."
"But Snape didn't," Harry countered. "He knew exactly how to help Hedwig. But this time, he didn't even try to help Mrs. Norris."
"I think he just wanted to wait for the headmaster, Harry," Hermione responded.
Ron frowned. "About Snape—"
But the redhead was cut off from completing his thought as the door flew open once more, and several staff members were suddenly filing into the room, led by none other than Albus Dumbledore.
The headmaster moved immediately over to the desk, where he quickly deposited what he had been holding onto its surface. A moment later, Harry realized it was the stiff body of Mrs. Norris.
Standing up, the boy moved closer to the edge of the desk, until he was standing right next to the headmaster.
"Will she be alright, sir?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Sit down, Mr. Potter, and let the headmaster perform his examination," Snape snapped from behind him.
"And get away from my cat!" the caretaker growled from the doorway.
"That's quite enough, Argus," Albus said calmly but firmly, before turning his eyes on Harry.
"Let's just have a look then, shall we?" the old man asked the boy quietly.
Harry nodded, before stepping back to give the headmaster some space.
It felt like an eternity waiting, as the headmaster leaned over Mrs. Norris, poking and prodding her still body, not saying a word for several long moments.
Only Lockhart dared to break the silence, mumbling on about how many dark creatures there were that possibly could have done this, and speculating as to which spell may have saved the poor cat had he been there to assist.
He didn't seem to realize that nobody was listening.
And then finally, the headmaster straightened up and turned.
"Well?" Filch demanded, moving forward. "What did he do to her?" he jerked his head in Harry's direction.
Harry flinched away from the caretaker as the man neared him, and the headmaster frowned disapprovingly at Filch.
"She is not dead, Argus. Merely petrified."
Suddenly, there were several voices at once, as everyone seemed to be reacting to this news. Lockhart, for his part, immediately declared that he had known it all along, while Sprout and McGonagall exchanged concerned looks, and Filch let out a strangled sob of relief.
But Harry didn't hear any of it. All of the chattering in the room was instantly drowned out by his own swirling thoughts as he sank back onto his chair.
She was alive. Mrs. Norris was alive. Harry sighed in relief and attempted to calm his trembling hands.
"How did it happen, Albus?" McGonagall eventually asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know, Minerva," the man replied, frowning as he ran a hand over his beard.
"Ask him!" Filch snarled, once again pointing a finger straight at Harry.
"I didn't do anything!" Harry said defensively.
"Then why were you in that corridor?" the caretaker demanded.
"Argus—" the headmaster began. But he was quickly interrupted by a dangerously silky voice.
"I am sure we would all like to know the answer to that question," Snape said, turning to glare at Harry.
Harry immediately averted his eyes at the anger in the professor's tone.
"Well, Mr. Potter?" the man demanded impatiently. "Would you care to explain why you and your friends were hurtling along the school corridors instead of joining the rest of your peers at the feast?"
Harry bit down on the inside of his mouth as he cast a nervous glance towards Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to lie to Snape. But he somehow didn't think that confessing to a roomful of adults that he had been hearing voices would be a good idea.
And apparently, his friends agreed. Ron was staring at him with wide eyes, eyebrows raised in alarm, while Hermione gave just the tiniest shake of her head as she met Harry's gaze.
"I—" Harry began, turning back towards the professor.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Snape prompted impatiently.
"We were at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, sir," Harry said quickly, barely resisting the urge to cringe away from the man out of fear of the professor's reaction. Snape had explicitly told him not to go, after all.
"A deathday party?" Professor McGonagall asked, before Snape was able to respond. "What were the three of you doing there?"
"Nick invited us," Hermione supplied. "Or—he invited Harry. But we wanted to go with him so he wouldn't be alone."
"Right," Ron agreed. "Besides, we were planning to go to the feast just as soon as we found Nick to wish him well, but—"
"But what?" Snape growled. "So far none of you have answered the question. Why were you in that corridor?"
"Severus—" Albus began. But a quiet voice interrupted him.
"It was my fault, sir," Harry answered, ignoring the looks on his friends' faces as he met Snape's gaze for a brief moment.
"What are you talking about, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, sounding concerned.
"Well, when we were at the party, Peeves showed up," Harry said, making sure to sound especially embarrassed. "He…sort of startled me, and I—ran."
Harry could tell that Snape didn't believe him. The man's eyes flashed dangerously even as behind him, Professor Sprout's face morphed into one of pure sympathy.
"You ran? All the way to that particular corridor?" Snape asked softly. "Why not stop at the Great Hall? Isn't that where you were planning on going anyway, Mr. Potter?"
Harry fell silent, and Severus immediately turned to Dumbledore. "Mr. Potter is obviously hiding something, headmaster. And I would strongly suggest that certain privileges be withheld until he decides to be more truthful."
Harry looked pleadingly at Snape, then, and several of the other adults in the room raised their eyebrows as they watched this silent interaction.
"I hardly think that will be necessary, Severus," Albus eventually responded. "There is no reason to think that three second years had anything to do with—"
"I am not suggesting that they performed the dark magic, Albus. I simply believe that they know more than they are letting on."
The three Gryffindors visibly squirmed at those words, and a small triumphant smile formed on Snape's lips.
"I think that is quite enough of your interrogation, Severus," Professor McGonagall finally said, though Severus thought she sounded almost amused rather than upset.
The Transfiguration professor moved forward then to begin pushing the children towards the door. "I believe it is time to go check on our students, Albus, and make sure everybody is accounted for."
"Yes, Minerva, that is an excellent idea," the headmaster stated. "That is, if Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have nothing else to add?" the man's penetrating eyes fell on all three of the children.
"No, sir," the Gryffindors quickly answered in unison.
A little too quickly, in Severus' opinion.
The night seemed darker than usual that evening, as the staff slowly patrolled the corridors. The moon had been almost completely obscured by a thick layer of clouds, and hardly any light was able to make its way through the castle windows.
Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall walked in companionable silence for a time, a lumos spell lighting the ends of both of their wands. Silence reigned for many long minutes.
It was the Transfiguration professor who finally broke it.
"Do you think this is only the beginning, Severus? Do you think there is more to come?"
"You know the answer to that, Minerva. Of course there is more to come," the man replied briskly. "That is why it is absolutely imperative that we apprehend the perpetrator immediately."
Minerva's frown deepened in thought as they continued down the darkened corridor.
"You don't really suppose that Harry knew more than he was saying, do you?"
Severus sighed and gave a little huff in reply.
"What reason would he have to lie, Severus?"
"I do not pretend to be an expert on the inner workings of the Potter mind, Minerva, but I could read the body language easily enough. Potter and his little friends were not being entirely forthcoming."
"I'm worried about him, Severus," Minerva said with a sigh. "Even before tonight… I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong."
"You should take your concerns to Albus," Snape answered, immediately uncomfortable. Why did all of their conversations have to center around that insolent little brat?
"You know I already have, Severus. And I intend to speak to him again. But…"
"Yes?" Snape asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear an answer.
"Well," the woman replied, a tiny smile finally gracing her features, "I was rather hoping that you would speak to Harry before I did so."
Severus stopped walking. "This is hardly the time for jokes, Minerva."
"Oh, I assure you, Severus, I'm quite serious."
Snape's eyebrows rose in confusion. "I believe the last time I checked, the Potter brat had been sorted into your house, not mine."
"Severus, I saw the way you two interacted this evening. Harry trusts you."
There was that word again. Trust. Why did it keep coming up?
"Trusts me? Minerva, you have been spending far too much time with Albus. There was nothing trusting about the boy's behavior."
"Severus, had you been interrogating any one of my other Gryffindors, they would have immediately turned to me or the headmaster for help when you started asking questions of them."
"I fail to see—"
"But Harry was speaking to you, Severus. Even when you accused him of lying, he never looked anywhere else."
Severus fell silent.
"He wanted you to believe him, Severus. Or at the very least, to accept his answer."
"That is ridiculous, Minerva," Severus said, his voice sounding somewhat unsure. "The boy was just worried about being punish—"
"He knows, doesn't he?" McGonagall interrupted suddenly.
"Knows what?" the man growled dangerously.
There was a short pause then, and Severus desperately hoped in that moment that his colleague was not about to say what he feared she would.
"About your friendship with Lily," Minerva finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Immediately, a lump formed in Snape's throat and his grip tightened considerably on his wand. Of course Minerva would have to figure it out.
And there was no point in denying it now.
"Yes," the man finally spat out.
And then before anything else could be said, the potions master was abruptly turning on his heel and stalking down the hallway, robes billowing out behind him.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Merry Christmas!
-Ailee17