By the first week of March Hermione was finally out of the Hospital Wing, having finally recovered from the polyjuice potion, and the snows of winter were just beginning to melt away. The three came to the unanimous decision that there was no conceivable way that Hagrid was the one behind the attacks. That, if he wasn't behind the attacks in the present, then it was likely that he wasn't the one responsible for the attacks fifty years previous either. They decided that it would be best if they didn't approach Hagrid about it. Hermione, having heard from the pair about Harry's experience within the diary, and their strange encounter with Professor Jackson was just as bewildered about the entire situation as they were.
"Maybe it's cursed," Hermione suggested one evening in the Common Room, as they were working their way through their Charms essays.
"We thought of that," Ron said, as he scratched out a sentence at the bottom of his parchment, "But if it were cursed, it would have done something to Harry when he was looking into it, wouldn't it?"
"Hm, I suppose your right, but then why would Professor Jackson be so scared of it?" Hermione hummed, "I mean, I've read about sentient books and books that were able to speak to their readers before, they're rare, but not unheard of and almost never dark or dangerous. And what was that spell you said Professor Jackson used? Some books do have magical enchantments to protect them from being destroyed,"
Harry and Ron shrugged, and Harry answered, "No idea, it sounded like it was in another language,"
"All our spells are in another language, Harry," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes and Harry flushed slightly,
"I meant," He said hastily, "That it was something, other than the standard Latin. Sounded…" He trailed off and looked to Ron for help, who just shrugged.
Hermione hummed to herself, "I suppose it's possible," She said quietly,
"Oh no, please," Ron said exasperatedly, "Don't mind us, we'll just sit here and twiddle our thumbs, do let us know when you've finished though, yeah?"
Hermione just glared at him, "Oh it's obvious isn't it?" she said, and when both Ron and Harry's expressions told her that it most certainly wasn't obvious, she rolled her eyes, "Where did Professor Jackson study?"
"Ilvermorny," Ron said,
"Yes," Hermione said slowly, as though she were talking to someone particularly slow, "And where else did he study?"
"Greece," Harry said quickly, "At that Institution or whatever,"
"Exactly, and what is his primary area of Historical expertise?" Hermione said, and then sighed when both Harry and Ron just stared at her blankly, "Ancient Greece," She stressed,
"Bloody hell Hermione, what are you trying to get at?" Ron groaned, his patience wearing thin,
"Well it's obvious isn't it?" Hermione said, but didn't bother wasting any time, "He probably casts his spells in Greek!"
"That works?" Harry asked,
"Of course it works," Hermione said exasperatedly, "Do you think Europe is the only continent that uses magic? The Chinese use a form of Mongolian and Mandarin for their spells. It's not a surprise that Professor Jackson would be using ancient Greek."
"Fascinating," Ron yawned, propping one hand against his head and lazily scribbling something into his paper, "And how is that useful for us Hermione,"
"It's useful because…" Hermione started to say then stopped, then flushed, embarrassed. Never one to strictly admit when she was wrong, she just glared at Ron, who was smirking to himself, "Shut up,"
They fell into silence for a few minutes before Hermione spoke up again, this time glancing around the room and making sure that no one was listening in,
"I have been hearing interesting things about Professor Jackson though," Hermione whispered, and Ron and Harry looked at her,
"Actually, interesting or is this more trivia about how he uses magic," Harry snarked,
"Hush," Hermione shot back, "I overheard a couple of fourth-years talking the other day. Apparently, Professor Jackson has been spending an awful lot of time around Myrtle's bathroom the last few weeks. Nothing…creepy I don't think. But he's been patrolling that area of the castle particularly heavily the last few weeks."
Harry and Ron gaped at her,
"You're joking," Ron said,
"He doesn't actually think that the entrance is in Myrtle's bathroom?" Harry asked,
"I think he does," Hermione insisted,
"He's barking," Ron declared, throwing his hands into the air, "The one person actively trying to figure out what's been happening, and he's spending his time hanging around a toilet,"
"Ronald!" Hermione hissed, never one to hear something bad said about a professor, "He wouldn't be there if he didn't have a good reason for it!"
"And what reason could that be?" Ron asked sarcastically,
"Professor Jackson thinks it's using the plumbing, maybe he's checking all of the toilets," Harry suggested, but Hermione just nibbled at her lip,
"But I haven't seen or heard about him hanging around any of the other toilets," She said, her eyes narrowing in thought,
"Maybe he just likes the conversation," Harry joked, and Ron joined in with a laugh,
"Sure, that's gotta be it," Ron laughed, "Can you imagine it, 'Hey Myrtle, how ya doing, wanna tell me about how you died again?' He'd be a lunatic to subject himself to that,"
Harry suddenly stopped laughing as a thought occurred to him. A horrible thought, one that left a lump in his throat as his stomach contorted painfully.
"Hermione," Harry said carefully, doing his best to maintain his composure, "When…when exactly, did Moaning Myrtle die?"
Hermione frowned, her brow furrowed in thought, "I'm not sure, maybe it was-" She looked up with a start, staring at Harry intently, "Surely not," She said, aghast.
"It fits," Harry insisted, "Why else would she still being wearing her school robes, and who would haunt a bathroom unless-"
"Unless it was the place where they died," Hermione finished for him, before pausing in thought.
"Surely not," Hermione shook her head ferociously, "No, no that couldn't be - it can't right?" Ron was watching Harry and Hermione, his head bouncing back and forth as though he were watching a tennis match,
"Think about it, Hermione. It makes sense, right? When was the last time you'd heard or read about a student at Hogwarts dying!"
"What the bloody hell are you two on about?" Ron finally burst out, unable to take it anymore. Harry and Hermione shared a look before Harry explained,
"Remember what Professor Jackson said? Fifty years ago, when the Chamber opened before, there were a bunch of attacks and a student died,"
Ron put the pieces together,
"And it was Myrtle who died…"
BREAK
It had been several months since the attacks that petrified Justin and Nick, and the castle was beginning to relax a little, as everyone seemed to unanimously agree that if there hadn't been another attack, then the monster must have either been stopped, or gone into hiding.
Harry no longer had to worry about attacks in the halls, and the whispering and pointing of other students had finally died away as well. Things had fallen away well enough, that the castle had even gotten to experience a bit of normalcy by the easter holidays, where Harry and the second years found out that they would be choosing electives for the following year. Harry, had no idea what kind of electives he wanted to take. According to Percy Weasley, the decision was a monumentally important one, as it would potentially shape the remainder of Harry's time at Hogwarts and beyond. But, given that it was Percy, Harry took everything the boy said with a grain of salt.
Ron had made the relatively easy choices of Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, while Hermione had chosen, naturally, everything. After spending several days not doing anything at all, Hermione finally suggested that Harry sit down with Professor McGonagall and see what she thought was best. But Harry did not relish the thought of spending one on one time with his stern head of house. However, he did take part of Hermione's advice to heart, and sat down with Professor Jackson instead.
He had seemingly gotten over whatever fit he'd had with the diary, and had returned to his normal, jovial self.
"Well, Harry," Professor Jackson had said one evening after class, as he was taking down the decorations in their room that made the classroom look like the Roman Colosseum, "I guess it depends on what interests you. Divination," He said with an air of utter disgust and hatred that was nearly palpable, "Is the 'art' of predicting the future. Of creating prophecies."
"It sounds like you don't much like the subject sir," Harry observed cautiously, watching in interest as Professor Jackson stuffed an enormous fake tiger into a suitcase,
"I don't." Professor Jackson said gruffly, "It's a bunch of crap. The future is going to come to pass whether you like it or not, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do to alter it. Prophecies are vague, incomprehensible, nonsense and I don't have the patience for them. If you want my suggestion, ancient runes would serve you well."
"Ancient runes, sir?" Harry asked,
"Ancient runes," Professor Jackson reiterated, finally managing to get the last of the tigers put away, and seating himself on top of the bulging suitcase, "Its a wonderfully useful skill set for any magical to have. Knowing how to apply runic seals, and break curses and enchantments. Even spellcrafting is, at its most basic level, the application of runic magic."
"So you're saying…" Harry asked slowly,
"I'm not saying you should or should not do anything," Professor Jackson said easily, smiling at Harry.
"You asked for my advice, so I'm giving it to you. You're smart, Harry, I think you'd do well with the subject, and I think it's a more useful subject than most of the other electives. As for the others," He shrugged, "I enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures when I was in school. Our world is full of interesting creatures, and given the current state of affairs," Professor Jackson shrugged, and leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the ceiling,"
"I've tried to be a more practical man as I've aged. I believe that the next generation of magical should learn skills that make them the most well rounded and prepared to tackle the world as much as possible. If I had been more prepared for the realities of the world when I was your age…" He trailed off and his eyes glazed for a moment. Then, catching himself, he shook off his thoughts and smiled at Harry,
"At the end of the day Harry, this is your future we're talking about. Only you can know what you should or should not do. Always trust your instincts Harry, they won't lead you astray."
That had been all the advice Harry had really needed. Much to Ron's disappointment, and Hermione's delight Harry did not sign up for Divination but did sign up for Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.
BREAK
It was the Thursday before Gryffindor's next quidditch match against Hufflepuff when something strange happened. Harry had been in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts when the door to the classroom burst open and Professor Jackson strode into the room. He looked perturbed, his eyes were darting around the room, and his fists were clenching and unclenching at different intervals.
"P-Professor Jackson," Lockhart said with a start, his eyes darting to the door to his office, as though he were preparing to run from something. Apparently, Professor Jackson had some things to say to Lockhart about the stunt on Valentine's Day, and Lockhart had been so scared of the man, that any time he saw Professor Jackson in the halls, he made any excuse to run in the opposite direction.
"I need to borrow Potter and Weasley for a minute, Gilderoy," Professor Jackson said, his tone hard.
Harry and Ron shared a look, it was the first time since their first class that they'd ever heard Professor Jackson use their last names like that.
"O-oh," Lockhart stammered out, "R-right, of course, of course. Well-well boys off you go," He said ushering Harry and Ron out of their seats.
They quickly gathered their things and, after sharing a confused look with Hermione, they followed Professor Jackson out of the room, as they swept down the hall.
"Professor," Harry asked, "What's going on? Are we in trouble?"
"Not here," Professor Jackson said curtly, in a tone which brokered no argument.
They followed Professor Jackson all the way to his office, on the fourth floor, and when they opened the door, Harry and Ron's mouths dropped open in shock. It looked like there had been a hurricane. Books and parchment were strewn over the floor. The large desk had been overturned, and the shelves and cupboards had been thrown open and scattered across the floor, as though they'd been picked up and tossed. On the floor in front of Harry, was an overturned book, and Harry could just make out the title on the old, and warn looking cover.
"Greatest Mythical and Magical Creatures of Our World,"
Harry thought it odd that Professor Jackson would have a book like that in his office, but otherwise didn't think anything of it.
Professor Jackson ushered Harry and Ron inside and closed the door.
"Professor," Ron breathed out in astonishment, "What happened?"
"Someone's been looking for something," Professor Jackson said, his tone icy with fury. "I had taken Mrs. O'Leary out to the Forbidden Forest during lunch. There's plenty of creepy crawlies in there that are perfect for her to hunt, and she needs the exercise," He explained, "Anyways, I came back a few minutes ago, and found this. Whoever did this, was looking for something, something they found and took."
Harry's heart stopped, and he turned to look at his professor, "The diary," He breathed out, and Professor Jackson nodded, before leaning down and staring at the pair of them,
"I ask this only because I have to. Did you two do this?" He asked slowly, his eyes twinkling slightly at he stared unblinkingly at Harry and Ron.
Harry and Ron immediately shook their heads,
"No sir!" Ron said quickly, "We were in the Great Hall during lunch, you can ask the professors!"
"That's right sir," Harry affirmed, "We haven't been to the fourth floor all day, not since coming down from the tower,"
Professor Jackson nodded, but still did not move away, or even blink, his eyes still twinkling, "And do either of you have any idea who could have done this?"
Once again, Harry and Ron shook their heads,
"No idea sir," Harry said truthfully.
Professor Jackson looked hard at them, before nodding once more, and finally blinking. Sighing deeply, he stood up straight and cracked his neck.
"I'm sorry boys," He apologized, "But I can count the number of people who know about that diary on one hand, and I had to make sure."
"We-we understand, professor," Harry said, relieved that the man did not suspect of them of being responsible.
"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, "It has to be the heir who took the diary right? What if it's the key to the chamber or-or something, you saw the way it reacted to when you tried to cast a spell on it Professor, there's something evil about that thing, I just know it."
"We," Professor Jackson stressed, "Are doing nothing. I am going to Dumbledore, and you two are going to return to your classes and forget that you ever saw this,"
"But-" Harry tried to say,
"But nothing, Harry," Professor Jackson said firmly, then his gaze softened, "Believe me kid, I understand how you feel - better than you'll ever know - I understand. But before you run off and do something stupid, let me and the Headmaster deal with this. There's a time and place for jumping headfirst into danger, and this is not one of those times."
Harry bit back a retort that Professor Dumbledore had told Professor Jackson basically the same thing over the holidays but Harry stopped himself.
"I don't want you two looking for trouble unnecessarily," Professor Jackson warned,
"Sorry Professor," Harry apologized meekly,
"Yeah," Said Ron, "Sorry Professor, it's just that, well, our friend Hermione. We're worried about her. These attacks keep happening to muggle-borns and she's-"
"I understand Ron," Professor Jackson replied easily, "And believe me, it makes me proud that you two would jump into trouble to protect your friend. Personal loyalty is something I covet very closely. But it's not necessary right now." Professor Jackson stared at them hard for a second, contemplating his words carefully, and when he spoke next, his voice was full of an emotion Harry couldn't quite place,
"If something were to happen to me boys, and you felt that you had no other choice but to act, then I trust you to trust your judgement on the matter. But until such a time as there are literally no alternatives, you are to stay safe, understand?"
"Yes Professor," The boys replied,
"Good, now get off to class, I need to clean this up and then I have some…reading I need to get done."
BREAK
They'd been just tucking into dessert when Harry heard it,
"Kill this time…Can't let him find it…rip…tear…"
Harry looked up from his treacle tart with a start, freezing in place, before his eyes shot to the ceiling,
"What is it Harry?" Hermione asked in concern, abandoning her own pudding. Even Ron stopped eating as he turned in his seat and looked at Harry,
"The voice," Harry hissed quietly, "It's back, it's going to kill this time!" His heart was hammering quite heavily in his chest,
Hermione and Ron paled, "We need to tell Professor Jackson and Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said quickly,
Harry turned and looked up at the staff table. He quite agreed, and he made to stand up, but he stopped abruptly as he scanned the head table, then he sank back down in his seat,
"Professor Jackson's not there!" Harry whispered, and Ron and Hermione turned in their seats and did their own scan of the head table.
"He must be hunting it," Ron whispered excitedly,
"We should still tell Dumbledore," Hermione implored and Harry nodded,
But before Harry could stand up, there was a tremendous explosion from somewhere upstairs, that rocked the foundations of the Hall. The force of the explosion caused the tables in the hall to move, as food and students were abruptly deposited onto the floor. There were more explosions, as the castle continued to shake, and every teacher at the head table, stood up, their eyes fixed to the ceiling.
At that moment, an enormous, silvery-white wolf, whips of smoke flowing off of it like a ghost, the size of a lion burst through the doors to the Great Hall, coming to a rest right in front of the teachers table. It opened its mouth, and Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment, as Professor Jackson's voice came through the Wolf's enormous maw.
"Fourth Floor. By my office. Bring backup. Don't look it in the eyes." And then the wolf vanished from sight. As soon as it disappeared, there was a loud bark, something similar to the sound of artillery going off, from directly overhead.
Professor Dumbledore leapt into action, "Prefects," he announced, as students began screaming, "Keep the students here, teachers with me!" And as one, every teacher at the head table drew their wands and began running to the doors to the Hall. Ron gave Harry a hard nudge and gestured at his bag and mouthed,
"Cloak!"
Understanding what Ron was suggesting, and before Hermione could protest, Harry took advantage of the chaos to don his invisibility cloak, and managed to slip out of the Hall with running professors.
Making sure to keep some distance from his professors, Harry followed them as they climbed four flights of stairs. The sounds of fighting were getting louder, until they reached the landing for the fourth floor. Turning down the nearest corridor, Harry and all the teachers stopped at the sight before them.
It looked like a warzone. The entire corridor was destroyed, and looked as though a bomb had been dropped on it. There were scorch marks on the wall, and a crater in the floor that must have been at least three feet deep. A door had been torn from its hinges and was still smoking slightly.
"Lónchos tou Día!" Came a loud cry from the corridor over, followed by a blast of what sounded like thunder. There was an inhuman shriek of pain, and they heard Professor Jackson shout, "Try and kill me will you! Bring it on you overgrown-Gah!" There was a smack of something wet hitting flesh, followed by an even louder crash as something collided hard with another wall. There was a snarl and another bark that sounded like artillery fire, followed by yet another inhuman shriek of pain.
"This way," Roared Dumbledore, as the teachers were shaken from their stupor. The sound of fighting got more intense the closer they got, as Professor Jackson launched spell after spell at whatever monster he was fending off. They'd just rounded the corner to another destroyed corridor when there was a crash and a grunt of pain. They watched in horror as Professor Jackson flew into the far wall, his back colliding with the stone. He rolled on the ground, howling in pain, and pushed himself onto his back, his eyes which had been screwed shut, shot open. He was scrambling backward, one hand dragging him to the wall as his feet pushed along the floor, raising his wand he roared,
"Gyálino toícho!" and a pane of glass, six feet long, six feet high and at least four inches thick appeared in front of him. The wall had no sooner appeared, than he froze. His body motionless as he lay there on the ground, one arm propped behind him his right arm raised and wand pointed in front of him, his face contorted into a look of absolute fury. Blood trickled from his hair onto his white shirt, staining it a deep red.
Someone shrieked and the teachers hurried forward, Harry hot on their heels. But as they turned the corridor, there was nothing there. Nothing but another destroyed hallway, a lot of blood, and a whimpering Mrs. O'Leary, who was padding softly over to the now petrified Professor Jackson.
Snape raised his wand and looked like he was about to curse Mrs. O'Leary who was woefully nudging Professor Jackson's face with her enormous maw, when Dumbledore called him off,
"Whatever did this, Severus, was not that dog. She is Professor Jackson's most faithful companion." And Snape lowered his wand.
Harry immensely regretted following the teachers, he couldn't tear his gaze away from Professor Jackson. Professor Jackson was a fully grown wizard, trained and experienced. He'd been in the military of some sort, and if Daphne Greengrass was to be believed, then he was an accomplished duelist as well. But none of that had mattered, none of the power, or experience had mattered, because whatever the monster had been had more than a match for a man armed only with his wand. Was that why he'd wanted a sword? Was that what he'd been talking about?
Harry found he didn't really care because as he stared, none of that seemed to matter anymore. He couldn't believe he had even remotely suspected Professor Jackson. His face frozen in that look of utter hatred and concentration. Harry scarcely wanted to believe what was happening. Professor Jackson, the man that had been far kinder, more helpful, more generous to Harry in six months, than most people had been in the twelve years he'd been alive, had been petrified. Harry only wished he had been there for him, had been able to help him in some way. But even as the thought occurred to him, he brushed it off. What good would Harry have been against a monster that could do something like that?
A lump formed in his throat, and he felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Mrs. O'Leary had curled up next Professor Jackson's still body, making soft noises that were so mournful, that if Harry hadn't known better, he'd have said she were crying.
"What are we going to do Albus," Professor McGonagall was saying, "When the word gets out-"
"We'll take it a day at a time, Minerva," Dumbledore said, his eyes glued to Professor Jackson's frame.
"What did he mean, headmaster, when he said not to look it in the eyes?" Snape said, his voice low, and somewhat devoid of its usual venom.
"A clue, I would wager Severus. A clue, as to the identity of whatever is behind these attacks."
"Any ideas, Professor Lockhart? You are, after all, supposedly an expert on dark magical creatures," Snape said, his voice a low hiss as he turned to sneer at Lockhart, who, Harry realized with a start, was quite literally shaking where he stood. Lockhart did not answer Snape, his eyes not leaving Professor Jackson's body. He never got around to replying. And with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore lifted the stiff form of Professor Jackson into the air.
Turning as one, Harry joined in on the silent procession as it marched back down the four flights of stairs to the Hospital Wing. He felt something wet brush against his hand, looking down he saw that it was Mrs. O'Leary, she was looking up at him, and Harry froze as he realized that she could see through his invisibility cloak. He gave her a soft pat behind the ears and she whimpered against his touch, before padding up and taking a protective position beside Professor Jackson.
They were not alone when they reached the first-floor landing. Apparently, the prefects had not been able to control the students as well as Dumbledore had hoped, because there was a mass of students waiting with bated breath at the bottom of the stairs.
As soon as Professor Jackson's still form came into view, someone screamed, which seemed to be all the incentive people needed. Students were sobbing, others were whispering to each other in panicked tones. If one of the professors had been targeted, then truly nobody was safe, it seemed. Harry stopped short, letting the professors take Professor Jackson into the Hospital, the mob of hysterical students watching in abject horror.
It took a few moments before the throngs of students managed to calm down, during which time, Harry managed to shuck off the cloak, Ron and Hermione covering for him. Hermione was silently weeping, and was shaking where she stood. Ron reached out and grabbed her by the hand, and said something to her that Harry couldn't quite work out. Harry knew that Hermione in particular was fond of Professor Jackson. Hermione was more subject to teasing about her parentage than most, and looked up to Professor Jackson, because he too didn't come from a wizarding family. Moreover, Harry couldn't begin to fathom how she was feeling, Hermione coveted Professor above all others. They were infallible to her, untouchable.
If not even Professor Jackson had been safe from the monster, then what chance did Hermione have against it?
Rom, his hand still tightly clenching Hermione's turned to Harry and he looked like he had wanted to ask what he'd seen, but judging by the look on Harry's face, Ron must have realized that it wouldn't have been appropriate, so he kept quiet.
When the hall had settled down somewhat, a distinctly familiar voice drawled out from the crowd,
"Serves him right, the filthy little mudblood," Draco Malfoy jeered, as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd, a look of absolute delight on his features. Harry and Ron stepped forward; white-hot fury flooding Harry's entire being. But before he could do anything, there was a loud 'BANG' and Malfoy screamed. His entire face, as well as his nether regions were coated in a thick sheet of ice. He rolled on the ground; his screams muffled as he clawed uselessly at the ice covering him. Harry followed the sound of the bang, and was shocked by what he saw. At the other side of the crowd, her wand raised and tears streaming down her face, was Daphne Greengrass.
The wand in her hand was shaking so badly that Harry thought she might drop it. Tracy Davis stepped out from the crowd and grabbed her around the shoulder and quickly dragged her away from the throng of students. One of the Prefects had snatched Malfoy and rushed him into the hospital, while the others began trying to corral the students back to their Common Room.
As Harry shakily made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, a loud, mournful wail echoed and reverberated around the walls of the castle, as Mrs. O'Leary cried for her fallen master.
AN: Uh oh! Percy's down for the count, which means that our heroes are left without protection, or are they? Will Harry be able to defeat the snake? Will Professor Jackson recover? Will Malfoy's testicles recover? So many questions, so little time. Thanks for all the love and support all, I hope you're all staying safe and healthy. Until tomorrow,
Love,
LilDB