The next month passed in a blur of classes, quidditch, homework, and detentions. After being caught tracking mud through the corridors, Harry nearly had detention with Filch, where he discovered that the caretaker was actually a squib. He'd then had to take detention with Professor Lockhart for flying the car into the Whomping Willow. After four hours of answering fan mail, Harry had been trooping back to his dormitory when he'd heard a strange voice. A weird, almost hissing noise that sounded like it was coming from the walls itself. But just as quick as he'd heard it, it disappeared. He'd not heard the strange voice from the night of his detention again, and Harry was convinced that he'd imagined the entire thing. A result of his own exhaustion and slow dip into insanity due to too much fan mail.

Before Harry knew it, it was Halloween, but unlike the year before, Harry would not be spending the evening in the Great Hall for their annual feast. Instead, and to Harry's mounting regret, he had promised Sir Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, to attend the man's Deathday Party.

Harry still wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean exactly, and neither did Hermione. Thankfully, both Ron and Hermione had promised Harry that they'd go with him, in a show of solidarity that Harry appreciated immensely.

The party itself was a dreary affair. The music was horrific, the decorations were drab and dreary, and the immense dance floor in the middle of the room was being occupied by a group of ghosts attempting a strange combination of a waltz and some kind of funeral dirge.

Harry shivered slightly, as he stepped out of the way of a ghost with an immense broadsword sticking out of his chest. The dungeons were normally cold, but with so many ghosts in one place, it was positively glacial.

"I think I see the food over there," Hermione pointed out, gesturing with a finger towards a large table at the other side of the dance floor.

"Excellent, I'm starved, let's go check it out." Ron said, sounding relieved.

"Oh no," Hermione gasped, grabbing onto the backs of Harry and Ron's robes, "Not that way, that's Moaning Myrtle, quickly, we'll go around," She turned on her heel and went the other way around the room, Harry and Ron behind her.

"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Harry asked as he pulled up beside Hermione,

"She haunts one of toilets in the girl's bathroom on the first floor," Hermione explained,

"She haunts a toilet?" Ron asked, incredulously, "Why"

"No idea," Hermione shrugged, "But the bathroom has been shut down all year because of it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pee with a ghost in the room?" She asked rhetorically.

They dropped the subject of Moaning Myrtle when they approached the dinner table, and were immensely disappointed and disgusted by what they saw. Harry almost gagged, and both Ron and Hermione immediately covered their noses. The table was full of rotting and spoiled food. Clumps of black mold, and rotting dairy and little black fuzz covered everything.

"Well," Ron said, his voice coming out a little muffled behind his hand, "I'm not hungry anymore."

"I wonder if they let it rot to make the flavor stronger for the ghosts?" Hermione asked, to which both Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.

They turned to leave, when their path was suddenly blocked, as a small man swooped down and landed right in front of them. Unlike the rest of the ghosts in the room, this man was not transparent, because he wasn't a ghost at all.

"Hello, Peeves," Harry said, sounding cautious.

Peeves the Poltergeist, was the terror of Hogwarts, who delighted in making the lives of the students utterly miserable. He grinned maniacally at the three,

"Heard you lot talking about poor ickle Myrtle," Peeves said, his grin widening, "How so rude you was, about poor, sweet little-gak!" Whatever else he was about to say was cut off, as a, very human, and very alive hand, grabbed the back of Peeve's gaudy suit, and hoisted him higher into the air.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione blinked in surprise, as they watched Professor Jackson hoist the poltergeist so that he was eye to eye with the professor.

"Peeves!" Said Professor Jackson, his voice full of cheer, though the rather nasty glint in his eye suggested he was far from pleased to see the troublemaker. "Are you harassing my students again?" He asked, his grip tightening on the poltergeist, as he tried desperately to free himself from the man's shockingly strong grip, "I thought we'd talked about this, thought we'd reached a bit of an understanding. Do we need to have another…lesson?"

Peeves stopped struggling. Harry hadn't known that it was possible for a poltergeist to lose any more color in its face, but Peeves managed it. His eyes widened in abstract horror, as he shook his head viscously from side to side,

"No, no, no sir, please sir," Peeves begged quickly, "We was just having a friendly little talk, wasn't we Potty, tell him, please, tell him old Peevesey wasn't doin' nothin wrong,"

"It's true sir," Hermione said, though she said it rather reluctantly, "He hadn't done anything…yet," She added as an afterthought.

Professor Jackson stared at her for a moment, then turned his attention back to Peeves. He jerked his head in the direction of the door, and Peeves seemed to get the message. Professor Jackson released his grip on the poltergeist, who flew so quickly from the room, that for a moment, Harry thought he might have teleported.

"Wicked," Ron breathed out, staring at where Peeves had disappeared through the ceiling, "Never seen him scared of anyone but Professor Dumbledore."

Professor Jackson snorted, "Little brat tried to prank me on the first day. We had a little chat, and he's seen the error of his ways."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what the professor had done to scare Peeves like that, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"What are you doing here professor?" Harry asked,

The strange look disappeared, and a bright smile took its place, "Sir Nick invited me!" He said brightly, "I've always wanted to see a Deathday Party, but they're normally only reserved for the dead. When Sir Nick offered me to come, I leapt at the chance! What about you three? Shouldn't you be at the feast?"

"Nick asked me to come," Harry said simply, and Professor Jackson smiled at him,

"Good man, Harry. Loyalty to your friends through and through, I love that," the professor said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry, not expecting the strength of the clap, nearly doubled over. It was like getting hit by Hagrid! Where did all of that strength come from!

Before Harry had a chance to respond, Nearly Headless Nick, floated down towards the four of them.

"Hello my friends," He greeted cheerily, "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Absolutely!" Professor Jackson said happily, "I got into a wonderfully dreary discussion with Anabelle the Weeping about the July Revolution! I didn't know Hogwarts was host to so many international ghosts!"

"It's not, unfortunately," Nick replied genially, then brightened, "But I had many friends come in from all over for the event. Not a bad turnout if I say so myself," he said proudly, "It's nearly time for my speech, I should think." However, before anything else could happen, a loud hunting horn sounded, and excited murmuring erupted amongst the crowd.

"Oh, here we go," Nick grumbled.

Through the far wall burst several large ghosts on horseback, all of them completely headless. Last in line was the bugler, the bugle pressed up against his hairy chin of his decapitated head, which was cradled in the arms of his body. The horseman lifted the head up high above the crowd, much to the delight of the attendants, who were clapping in enthusiasm. Harry made to clap as well, but stopped when Professor Jackson's hand shot out and grabbed onto his wrist. He gave a small shake of his head, and Harry lowered his hands.

When the headless horseman spotted Nick, he dismounted the horse, and glided over to the five of them.

"Nick!" The ghost shouted, as the body placed the head back on its neck, "Good to see you old boy! Head still hanging in there?" he asked, laughing loudly at his own clever joke,

"Patrick," Nick greeted back, sounding far from pleasant,

"Live'uns!" Patrick shouted, as he became aware of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor Jackson standing there. He gave a great, exaggerated gasp, and his head fell from his shoulders and rolled to the ground.

"Very amusing," Nick said, drolly,

"Never mind him, chaps, he's just bitter is all." Patrick said to the group, then turned his attention back to Nick, "Shame about the Hunt friend, shame about the Hunt. But I'm sure you can understand, could you imagine it? Someone who's only nearly headless? Couldn't be done I'm afraid, simply couldn't be done."

"A real pity too, given that he's far more terrifying than rest of you." Professor Jackson said, Sir Patrick, who had been in the process of reattaching his head, fumbled, and his head landed on the floor with a small splat. He gazed up at Professor Jackson, incredulity written on every feature.

"What did you say?" He asked,

"I said it's a shame he can't join the hunt, given that he's far more terrifying than the rest of you combined," the professor said again with a light shrug, and then jerked a thumb over at Nick, "I mean could you imagine getting your head cleaved into forty-five times with a dulled axe? You got off easy, one quick chop and it was over. Far, far better than poor Nick over there. I mean, if I had a choice between what he went through and you, I'd choose yours every time." He shrugged and seemed to sigh in thought, "I mean, just the thought of having that happen to me," He shivered, "Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it."

Patrick seemed for a moment, at a loss for words. Then he blinked, and his eyes crossed over in thought. He glanced at Nick, and then back to Professor Jackson, and then the head rolled over and looked over at the gathered horsemen, who were looking back, whispering to themselves and nodding slightly,

"Hmmm." Patrick hummed in thought, and then squinted up at Nick, "Nick, why don't you follow me, I think we should have another chat about your, erm, application." The body picked up Patrick's head, and tucked it under one arm. Then it spun around and glided towards the other horsemen.

Nick blinked, then quickly gilded after, but not before turning around and mouthing, "Thank you," to Professor Jackson, who just winked conspiratorially at him.

Professor Jackson laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Come on you three, it's getting late, but if we hurry, we might still be able to catch the end of the feast."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all nodded. Harry was starving, and he was getting cold. He allowed Professor Jackson to lead them out of the dungeon, and as they filed down the ornately decorated Hallway, Hermione asked,

"Sir, that was a very kind thing you did for Sir Nick."

The professor just shrugged, "He really wanted to join the hunt," He said simply, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Besides, it's not like I lied to them. A botched execution has to be up there with one of the worst possible ways to die imaginable." He shuddered, and Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck raise on end.

They'd just rounded the corner and were about to approach the Great Hall, when he'd heard it. The voice. The same voice he'd heard after his detention with Lockhart. It sounded like it was coming from the walls somewhere near to their left.

"Rip." it hissed, "Rip. Tear. Kill."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his hand reaching out to grip the wall.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned, "What's wrong?"

"Shhh!" He hissed at the them, as he screwed up his ears and tried to listed,

"Rip. Tear. Kill. Feed."

"Do you hear that?" Harry said, his eyes darting along the wall,

"Hear what, Harry?" asked Professor Jackson calmly,

"That voice, do you hear that voice!" Harry said, panic seizing him, "It's going to kill someone!"

"We don't hear anything Harry!" Ron said, sounding frightened,

"So hungry. So very hungry. Rip. Kill. Eat. Must eat. Must eat soon. Rip. Tear. Kill."

The voice was getting more distant, and sounded as though it were climbing, like it was going up the flight of stairs. Without warning, Harry took off at a dead sprint in the other direction.

"Harry! Wait!" Professor Jackson shouted, Hermione and Ron shouting at him to stop as well, but Harry didn't listen. He was listening to the voice, following it as it climbed. He sprinted up the staircase, stopping at the second-floor landing, before tearing right and sprinting down the hall. He was vaguely aware that water was soaking into his shoes, but he passed it by. The sound of splashing behind him, alerted Harry to the fact that the others were following him.

The voice took him to an abandoned corridor before the voice abruptly disappeared. Harry skid to a stop, but almost fell when his feet started sliding on the floor, but a hand reached out and grabbed onto the back of his robes, and caught him before he face-planted into the floor.

"Easy there Harry, easy." Professor Jackson said, as he steadied Harry on his feet. Getting his bearings, Harry looked up, and tensed. At the far wall, barely visible in the dim light, were large, foot high letters in red ink.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened enemies of the heir…beware" Professor Jackson breathed out, taking a slow step forward, his wand suddenly appearing in his hand. His feet splashing in the water around their feet. Harry felt Ron and Hermione pull up next to them, panting slightly.

"What's that?" Ron asked, squinting at a dark shape, hanging from a torch at the end of the hall.

"Stay back," Professor Jackson ordered, "And go grab a professor, have them grab the Headmaster," But they didn't listen, too overcome with morbid curiosity. They took a step forward, and began slowly approaching. As they crept closer, it became much more apparent what the strange object hanging from the torch was, as they approached.

Hermione gasped, and Harry heard Ron swear beside him. There, hanging from the torch. Was Mrs. Norris. The cat, and faithful companion to Argus Filch, the caretaker of the castle.

"We need to leave, now!" Ron hissed, as Professor Jackson approached the cat and began tapping the body with his wand slightly as he muttered under his breath. But it was too late, there was dull roar echoing from below, as the sound of hundreds of students leaving the Great Hall filled their ears. Within seconds the pounding of footsteps, and the voices of students filled the entire hall, and then abruptly quieted, as the mass of students stopped, at the sight of the four. The gaggle of students approached, hushed whispers echoing amongst them. Then, a voice rang out from just behind them,

"Enemies of the heir beware," Harry turned, and saw that it was Draco Malfoy, a look of absolute glee on his pale face, then turning and looking directly at Hermione, he said, "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Jackson's calm voice rang out in the hallway, and Malfoy's face contorted in rage, "And fifty points from Slytherin, I warned you Mr. Malfoy; someone get me a prefect and go fetch the Headmaster, now!"

But nobody moved, and from somewhere far in the back, a voice roared, "What the devil is going on, move get out of the way," and Argus Filch, pushed his way to the front. Harry watched as his face turned from anger, to confusion, to outright horror. He cried out in anguish, as he hobbled towards his still cat; he reached out to touch her, but couldn't bring himself to do it, and withdrew his shaking fingers. Tears began streaming down his face, as he babbled incoherently.

Harry felt a pang of guilt, Filch was a miserable old man, but that cat was the only thing on the planet that seemed to care about him. He pictured something happening to Hedwig, and felt his stomach clench up in pain.

Harry's guilt and pity lasted all of a second before Filch turned on his heel, his face turning purple in apoplectic rage, as he pointed a shaking finger at Harry. "You killed her." He snarled, his words slurring in his rage, so that Harry almost couldn't understand him, "You killed my cat!" He said slowly, hobbling towards Harry slowly, who began backpedaling slightly, "She was all I had and you took her from me, I'll kill you!" Filch roared and to lunge at him, but stopped when a new voice roared from the crowd,

"That is enough, Argus."

Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, strode through the crowd. His magenta robes billowing around his feet.

Upon hearing Dumbledore's voice, Filch abruptly stopped his advance. Though he still glared at Harry as though nothing would please him more, than if Harry died a particularly horrific death.

"Perseus," Dumbledore said, and Professor Jackson turned away from what he was doing with Mrs. Norris, "What happened?"

"She's not dead," Professor Jackson said slowly, his attention on the words on the wall, "But she has been petrified,"

"It was him! I know it was, he did it! I know he did, look at the writing, look at it! He did it because he knows-because he knows about-that I-that is-he knows-He did it I know he did it." Filch thundered,

"That is enough, Argus" Dumbledore commanded sternly, "Prefects, take your students to your respective houses. Minerva, Severus, Argus, Perseus, come with me. You three had better come as well, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

"We can you use my office, headmaster," Said Professor Lockhart, sauntering forward proudly, "It's the closest, just one floor up,"

"Thank you, Professor Lockhart. Come, you three," Dumbledore said, and turned on his heel. Slowly, and dreading what the next few minutes would bring, Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Professor Jackson magically brought Mrs. Norris off the torch, and followed after.

The walk to the office was made in silence. On more than one occasion, Harry tried to make eye contact with Professor Jackson, but his eyes were narrowed, and his brow furrowed in thought, and he seemed relatively unaware of his surroundings.

They walked into Lockhart's office, just in time to watch as several of the paintings of the man scurried out of frame, quickly taking rolling curls and hair nets out of their hair as they fled into the panes of their paintings. When the door shut behind Professor Jackson, Dumbledore turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and asked,

"What happened?" his voice was soft, and his eyes were sparkling somewhat behind his half-moon spectacles.

Before anyone could say anything however, Filch roared, "He petrified my cat! And they're just trying to cover for him!" He said pointing a finger at Harry, his entire body shaking with barely suppressed fury.

"Argus, there is not a second-year alive on the entire planet, who would be strong enough to manage a curse capable of petrifying Mrs. Norris."

"I once saw something very similar to this in Mogadishu…" Lockhart began saying and continued to ramble slightly as the others ignored him,

"If I might speak, headmaster," Snape's silky voice said from a darkened corner. Harry felt his stomach drop out of his shoes, if there was anyone in the castle more determined to see Harry expelled at that moment than Filch, it was likely Professor Snape, his potions teacher, and the man who seemed to have made it his mission in life, to hate Harry even more than his relatives.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time." The corners of Snape's lips curled up into a vicious looking smirk, "But we do happen to have a rather suspicious set of circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all, why wasn't he at the Halloween feast."

Before the three of them could say anything however, Professor Jackson jumped in, "They were with me, in the dungeons, attending Sir Nick's Deathday party. There are roughly a hundred ghosts, I'm sure they'd be happy to answer any questions you have." He said still looking at the floating figure of Mrs. Norris, and looking all the while as though he were only half paying attention to the conversation. Though Harry still felt a swell of gratitude for his history professor, which was soon dashed the second Snape opened his mouth,

"And why didn't you four come to the feast when you were finished, why go up to that corridor at all,"

"I figured that the feast would likely be over by the time we got there," Professor Jackson explained as easily as he were discussing the weather, and still not looking anywhere but at Mrs. Norris, "I told them that I'd have a light dinner brought up to my office, and we'd share a meal there. We were just heading upstairs when I noticed the water on the floor, not wanting the children to be wandering the halls on their own, we went to investigate, we'd only been there a few moments before the rest of the school showed up." The lies fell from Professor Jackson's mouth with such an ease that Harry could barely believe it. He was floored that Professor Jackson was going so far out of his way to look out for them. Judging by the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, neither could they.

Snape's lips curled into a snarl, "Headmaster, surely you cannot believe this utter fabrication. It is clear that Jackson is merely covering for Potter."

"I never realized that you thought so highly of Mr. Potter's abilities, Severus." Professor Jackson said, finally turning to look at the potions master. Snape rounded on him, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes flashing,

"What did you just say to me?" He hissed, and Harry thought he saw the man draw his wand,

"I said, I never realized that you thought so highly of Mr. Potter's abilities, Severus." Professor Jackson repeated, slowly, as though he were speaking to someone who was particularly dim-witted. "The headmaster just said that there isn't a second-year alive who is capable of managing the power to petrify that cat. So, if you're really suggesting that a twelve-year old has the raw magical power, and talent to be able to cast this kind of a petrification, then we must be in the presence of the second coming of Merlin himself." Harry had never heard someone speak so sarcastically to someone before, let alone Professor Snape. He was torn between laughing, and being concerned.

Ron snickered, and then tried to disguise it as a cough.

Snape advanced on Professor Jackson, his wand raising, "Why you insolent, petulant, little,"

"Severus, that is enough," Dumbledore thundered. For a moment, Harry thought that Snape might not listen, but after a moment's hesitation, he lowered his wand. He was panting, and looked closer to a wild animal than a man. Harry had never seen the man in such a state before.

In stark contrast, Professor Jackson, looked positively bored. As though the prospect of being cursed by Severus Snape, was the most un-concerning thing in the world.

Percy turned his attention away from Snape and stared at Dumbledore, who met his eyes unflinchingly, "I swear on the Styx that none of these students, nor myself, are responsible for what happened to that cat." There was a tremendous crack of thunder, and the occupants in the room all jumped in sudden surprise. All but Professor Jackson and Dumbledore, who were maintaining their staring contest.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, judging by the look on her face, it was clear that Hermione had never heard such a strange sounding oath before.

Harry watched as Dumbledore gave Professor Jackson an almost imperceptible nod,

"Very well. I believe, that is all that can be done for tonight," Dumbledore said,

"What about my cat!" Filch roared, "My cat, has been petrified! I want to see some punishment!"

"Professor Sprout is in the process of raising mandrakes. Once they are fully mature, I will have potion produced that will bring her back, Argus."

That calmed him down somewhat, though he was still breathing heavily, "You three, are to go," Then, after a look meaningful look from Professor Jackson, added, "Perseus, please see to it, that they get back to their Common Room." Both Snape and Filch voiced their displeasure but it was ignored, and before anything else could happen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were ushered out of the room by Professor Jackson.

Once they were outside the room, Professor Jackson said in a hushed tone, "Ron, Hermione, head back to your dorms, I need to speak to Harry privately."

Ron and Hermione looked like they wanted to protest, but Harry shooed them off. Harry had a feeling he knew what Professor Jackson wanted to talk about, and he didn't really want Ron and Hermione to be in the room for it. He didn't think he could bear it if they thought he was crazy.

The walk to Professor Jackson's office was a silent one. Neither saying anything, as the knot in Harry's stomach grew more and more tight. He knew this was going to be about the voice he'd been hearing, and all along the walk to the office, Harry had been trying to find some sort of an excuse for his actions, but every answer was more implausible than the last.

Finally, Professor Jackson opened the door to his classroom, before pushing open a side door that led into his office. If the classroom had been full of interesting historical artifacts, then his office looked like a museum. On every wall were enormous displays of weapons, shields, suits of armor, and other fascinating displays.

On one wall was a large display with an enormous horn jammed onto an ornate wooden shield. Inscribed under the horn was, "Minotaur. Long Island. 06/04/05" Harry was confused by the strange inscription. It seemed almost as though it were a date, but that couldn't be right, because it was 1992, and the turn of the century was still eight years away.

He walked forward, as Professor Jackson led him to the large desk at far end of the room, before taking the proffered seat.

"Be back in a moment, Harry," Professor Jackson said, before disappearing behind yet another door.

Harry just sat at the desk, staring around the room as he sat there. There were several pictures on the desk, and unable to resist the impulse, Harry reached out and grabbed one, turning it around he was taken aback for a moment. It wasn't a magical photo, but was instead, a muggle one. It must have been taken when Professor Jackson was in the military, because he was wearing a uniform of some kind, and was in the middle of a desert. He was filthy, looking like he'd just come out of a fight, and there was blood dribbling down the side of his face. But he was smiling, a hysterical, and slightly manic smile. He was standing with two others, both women. One, with skin as dark as the night sky, in the same kind of uniform as Professor Jackson. She was equally as filthy, and had a nasty looking black eye, but she too was beaming brightly into the camera. The second woman, at least Harry thought she was a woman, in stark contrast to the others, was in robes. Deep green in color, speckled with flecks of gray and black, which contrasted brightly with her almost painfully pale skin and flowing auburn hair. The majority of her face was hidden behind a large face-mask, and hat that covered her auburn hair. All Harry could see of her, were her eyes, which were a deep, blood-red, looked as though they were staring straight into Harry's soul.

Replacing the photo, he reached out and grabbed another. Unlike the other photo, it was magical. The picture was moving, and the people in the photo were smiling brightly and laughing happily at the camera. It was a picture of Percy with four women, all dressed in, brightly colored blue and cranberry robes. It looked like it was his graduation from school. It was weird for Harry to see Professor Jackson that young. He looked so wildly different. His hair was longer in the photo, and much like Harry's own in that it was wild and untamed. His face was young, and lacked the scruff around his cheeks and chin. There were also the other two women from the first photo, the dark-skinned woman looked considerably younger, and Harry got a much better look at the pale-skinned woman. Her features were far more aristocratic, than the other woman. The third woman had bronze tanned skin, deep green eyes, and flowing golden-yellow hair. Like the first two, she was stunningly beautiful, accentuated by her happy smile as she laughed with her friends. The final woman was a bit of a surprise. She was a centaur. Her deep, chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her robes billowed over her lower horse half.

Replacing the photo, Harry jumped slightly in surprise. He hadn't seen it before, and he wasn't sure how he hadn't, given that it looked like it was the size of a small bear. There, snoozing lightly in the corner, was the single largest dog Harry had ever seen. Fang, Hagrid's dog, was large, but compared to the monster in the corner, Fang might as well have been a chihuahua. Seemingly sensing his stare, its eyes snapped open, and Harry found himself staring into its hypnotizing red eyes.

Rising on its enormous haunches, it lumbered in Harry's direction, its paws thudding against the floor like heavy boots. Harry fell out of his chair as fear seized him, where was Professor Jackson? Why did he have this monster sleeping in his office? What was it going to do? He scrambled backward, and tried to reach for his wand, but before he could do it, the monster jumped, and landed right on top of him. Harry screamed, prepared to try and fight it off, only to stop when an enormous, thick, wet tongue started lapping at his face.

Harry struggled to push the massive beast off of him, but was unsuccessful, until there was a grunt and Harry felt the enormous weight of the beast off of him.

"Get off of him already you great, mangy, mutt." Said Professor Jackson, as he smiled down at Harry.

"All right down there Harry?" He laughed, as Harry struggled to his feet and tried to wipe the slobber off his face. With a wave of his wand, Professor Jackson wiped the gunk off Harry's face, much to Harry's relief.

"What on earth was that?" He gasped out, staring at the monster that had tackled him. Now that he was standing, he was even more terrified. The thing was nearly as tall as Professor Jackson was, even as it sat back on its haunches.

"This," Professor Jackson said, fondly patting the thing on the head, who panted happily, its tail wagging happily, each thump, causing a small creak of the floorboards under the monster's strength,

"This is Mrs. O'Leary. Don't let her size fool you, she's an utter softie. Aren't you girl." She barked, and Harry had to cover his ears, which began ringing at the sound. It was almost as though a cannon had gone off right next to him.

"What-what is she?" Harry asked, still looking at the dog warily,

"She's one of a kind." Professor Jackson said with a wink, and then gestured to the desk, as he strode away. Harry gave one last wary look at the dog, and made a mental note to never let Hagrid meet the thing, else he might get some ideas about introducing it to Fluffy. Straightening his robes, he turned to move to the desk, noticing for the first time as he did so, several things.

The first was that Professor Jackson had changed into something more comfortable. Gone were the professional clothing he wore when he was teaching, and in their place was a simple navy tank-top, and jogging pants. An insignia of a trident was stitched into the right breast of the tank-top. The second thing Harry noticed, was that there was food on the desk in front of him.

Seeing the look Harry gave him, Professor Jackson chuckled, "We did miss the feast after all. I was just sending a note down to the kitchens to fetch us some supper, as well as some food for Ron and Hermione. Have a seat, and dig in."

Harry was apprehensive at first, but his stomach chose that moment to growl, and Harry felt his ears go scarlet. So, he reached down and began digging into his chicken. He watched in some confusion as Professor Jackson pulled a blue cheeseburger to his mouth and took an enormous bite. He moaned in appreciation.

"You know," Professor Jackson said around a mouthful of burger, "I've never eaten better than I have here at Hogwarts, but man, sometimes I just want a good burger you know? Reminds me of home."

Harry swallowed his bite of chicken, and looked at his teacher apprehensively, "Um sir," he said, unsure how to tell him that Harry didn't think he should be eating a blue burger.

Professor Jackson just laughed though, "I know it's blue, I asked 'em to do it," He said as he took another large bite, and juice and a little egg yolk soaked out the other side of the burger,

"Why?" Harry asked, befuddled as to why anyone would make such an odd request.

Professor Jackson's face took on a very melancholic look, "It-it was something of an inside joke between my mother and myself. Whenever she could, she'd try and dye my food blue, since it's my favorite color, and it used to cheer me up when I was having a bad day. It's a bit juvenile but it's followed me into my adult life." He then shrugged as though to say "what can you do?"

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and when both of their bellies were full, Professor Jackson leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head.

"Tell me about this voice you heard, Harry."

Harry felt his stomach drop out of the bottoms of his shoes. For a moment, he thought about denying it, but judging by the look on the professor's face, that wouldn't work. With a sigh, he told Professor everything, about the first time he'd heard it, about hearing it on the way to the Great Hall earlier that evening.

Professor Jackson just sat and listened, not saying anything, just letting Harry talk. When he finished talking, Professor Jackson leaned forward, his fingers steepled and his face serious, every muscle on him tense and strained.

"Harry, this is important, when you hear the voice, does it sound like it's talking to you, like a voice speaking in your brain, or like it's just speaking and you happened to hear it?"

Harry thought on that for a moment before answering, "I-I don't think it's speaking to me," He said slowly, thinking back on the times he heard the voice, "It-it sounds more it-more like it's speaking to itself, and I just happen to hear it."

"Good," Professor Jackson said, his shoulders sagging slightly in apparent relief, and all of his muscles relaxed. He no longer looked like cobra, coiled and prepared to strike. "Good," he repeated, "That means that you're not going insane," He said, not bothering to mince words.

"It-it doesn't?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly rather hopeful. It was something that had been hiding in the back of his mind since he first heard the voice. He'd been worried that he truly had been cracked, that he'd lost it.

"No," Professor Jackson said with a shake of his head, "No it doesn't. There are any number of things that can communicate telepathically, or even any number creatures that can communicate in way, where only select people can hear them. It certainly sounds like you must have heard the thing that attacked Mrs. Norris."

Harry's eyes went wide, was Professor Jackson accusing him? Did he really think that Harry HAD been the one to petrify Mrs. Norris? Did he?

"Harry, I don't think you had anything to do with this attack," Professor Jackson said soothingly, and Harry felt himself relax, "I'm just trying to get an idea of what might have happened. As well as reassure myself that you aren't having some kind of psychotic break." He added with a slight grin. Then, he got serious again,

"Have you told your friends about this?" he asked, to which Harry nodded, "Good," Professor Jackson said happily,

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused.

"You shouldn't hide these kinds of things from your friends, Harry. Take it from me, your friends are your support. They're your greatest source of personal strength. Never forget that. If you ever question whether you should tell them something, you should question whether you should be friends with them at all."

Professor Jackson pushed away from the table, "Good, now then, I believe I've kept you up long enough, come along, I think it's time for bed."

AN: Wow this had a pretty popular response! Glad you enjoyed the first chapter! I've almost finished with Second Year. I've had a lot of fun writing this, it's been a fun little breath of fresh air for me. I have a lot of fun ideas and things that are going to come. Something to remember moving forward though; this is Harry's story, Harry's journey. Not Percy's. Will Percy grow and change and have his moments to shine? Of course, I adore him, but this is Harry's story. He needs to be the one to grow, and Percy is simply going to act as an impetus for that growth. Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the little hints I've dropped here and there about this Percy. Let me know what you think and whether or not you liked it. As always thanks for all the love and support, and please stay safe.

Love,

LilDB