And so another chapter arrives. As per usual, please do review; they make my week and give me the impetus to keep writing so if you like it and you want more, reviewing is a way to prod me into moving quicker!


Chapter 7: Mysteries Upon Mysteries

If someone had suggested at the start of the day that I would spend the evening of Halloween closely holding a dead feline in front of me, I would have laughed them off. There's no laughing now though. All of us in the room are silent, except of course for the dry, racking sobs coming from Filch in the corner of the room. It was an odd enough procession to my office, four stunned and shell-shocked teenagers, a distraughtly furious caretaker flinging accusations around at the traumatised youngsters, Severus and Albus leading the way and me left holding the dead cat. Why am I the one left with the dead cat for Merlin's sake?

Chairs hastily transfigured out of anything that looked remotely usable, I rather unceremoniously dumped the limp creature onto my desk with a rather brutal reminder to myself to vigorously Scourgify the surface when all of this was over and done with. As it is, I may be robbing the house elves of some of their more potent sterilising agents. The four children stand awkwardly at the corner of the room, pale and tense as they huddle together before eventually sitting in the chairs furthest away from any of us adults. I can't really blame them. Severus has been glowering at anyone and anything foolish enough to catch his eye and even docked one of his young snakes five points on the way up. Argus is alternating between sobbing and screaming harsh allegations and I dread to think what my face looks like.

First things first however, and I am crouched so closely over the dead creature that my nose is almost touching the fur whilst Albus gently prods and pokes at it with his long fingers. It's strange. The creature is clearly dead, but as I thought up in the corridor, it looks as though it could easily be sleeping. There's no sign of trauma and Argus has tearfully informed us that Mrs Norris was in robust health this morning, before pointing the finger back at my young charges. But if she wasn't ill and there is no obvious cause of death, what killed her? It's as clean a death as you might get from the Killing Curse, but nobody in the castle is going to be casting that… in fact, there is likely only one, maybe two individuals who could cast it. I can't imagine them wasting the effort on a cat.

My probing spells are finding no other likely conclusion however. Other than the fact that the cat is most definitely, unmistakably deceased, I can find no reason to believe there's anything wrong with it. Magical trauma isn't my speciality I will admit, but I know enough to check for the obvious. But there's nothing. Barely a hair out of place. A closer examination by someone trained might be able to pick something out I have missed, but judging from Albus' expression, he isn't having any luck either. I check for magical residue but even that comes up blank. Any dark magic would surely leave some trace of its passage, and if it was magic that killed her then it must have been very dark indeed.

"Well? What killed it?" Severus finally bites out, clearly grown weary of the seemingly endless murmurs and gentle prods being directed at the cat.

"They did!" Argus screeches suddenly, red, puffy eyes glaring manically around the room before landing on the four shaken teenagers. "They did! They murdered my cat! They killed her! I'll kill -|"

"That is quite enough, Argus," Severus snaps forcefully, fixing the distraught man with such an icy glare that he shrinks back into himself. His tone loses some of its edge but stays curt, cutting. "You are distraught. That is no excuse to be damn stupid. How old do you think these students are?"

Argus slumps back into the chair, glancing away from the youngsters and mumbling something unintelligibly into his clenched hands. I don't catch it, but by the way the sallow faced man's eyes narrow menacingly, Severus has better hearing than me.

"Because by my reckoning," Severus continues mercilessly, stalking across the room towards the suddenly frail looking Squib, "they are second years with no proficiency in offensive magic and varying degrees of limited aptitude in basic charms and wandwork. The girl might have managed to Scourgify the wretched cat on a good day, but to kill? They haven't even learned the disarming charm yet, you fool. Get your head out of your rear end and start thinking, instead of throwing mindless accusations around."

It is impossible to miss the looks of astonishment on the three boy's faces at the sight of their feared Potions Master defending them of all people; Mister Longbottom looks likely to faint and I feel glad he's stayed in the chair. Nor indeed do I miss the look of consternation upon Miss Granger's face. You'd think she'd almost prefer to be accused of killing the creature, rather than this casual assumption of incapability. She does sometimes remind me of a younger version of myself.

"Tact aside, Severus speaks sense, Argus," I remark, rather more gently than my younger colleague, trying to calm the poor man down. Distraught or not however, his behaviour simply isn't fair on my students and it needs to stop. "The day a second year could manage that kind of magic is the day Merlin strolls into Hogwarts demanding his tenure!"

"But – but – but…" Filch's face is almost a caricature of anger and grief. I don't know what he'll do without that cat. Mrs Norris and I didn't always see eye to eye on some fundamental issues, but she didn't deserve this. "If they didn't – who did!?"

His last words are a strange hybrid combination of a screech and a bellow that is most unpleasant to the ears and I have to fight the urge to cover mine. Instead, I walk over and place an awkward hand on the man's thin, shaking shoulder.

"What about the writing, Professor?" The Longbottom boy interjects for the first time since young Harry ran off like that. "The Chamber of Secrets? Enemies of the Heir?"

"Well a ruddy cat can hardly be an enemy," Weasley scoffs. "Unless it's to troublemakers and mischief managers… but even Fred and George wouldn't go this far!"

"But what is the Chamber of Secrets?" Longbottom asks again, ignoring his friend's interjection, his round face concerned. "Who is this Heir that it mentioned."

"A nonsense tale, nothing more," I answer firmly. "A Chamber built deep into the bowels of the castle thousands of years ago by none less than Salazar himself. A tale told to frighten sensitive first-years, that's all. Numerous people have searched Hogwarts from top to bottom and there has been no sign of any chamber whatsoever. It's an old myth and one long discounted."

"But Professor, it has to be important," he persists with unusual doggedness. "It looked like it was written in well… blood or something. That's more than serious!"

"That's enough," I say gently. "Whoever wrote those words clearly wanted to make a statement, and they have certainly done so. However, we need to concentrate and we can hardly do that with so many questions. We can sort this out, don't you worry." I smile at the frightened youngsters in what I hope is a reassuring manner. It wouldn't be much good if it just looks like a grimace, after all. "Off to your dormitories with you. It would be best if you only spoke about this between yourselves for the time being." I will speak with you all tomorrow after breakfast.

The four troop out of the room with a few disgruntled mumbles and I return my attention towards the dead cat draped across my desk. I'll likely have to speak to more than just those four come morning; this will be all over the castle in an hour.

"Could it be a case of mistaken identity?" Severus asks quietly, making me jump as I hadn't realised he was directly behind me.

"I wouldn't think so, Severus," Albus clearly has the same enhanced hearing as my younger colleague. He doesn't look up as he speaks, his wand now waving across the cat in complex patterns. "Nobody even remotely familiar with the castle would mistake Mrs Norris for Professor McGonagall. Their markings are completely different, there's a significant difference in size and out of the two and anyone looking for the Professor wouldn't bother waiting for her feline form."

"And what reason would anyone have to want me dead?" I ask blankly. "Although, I suppose that begs the question…"

"Why Mrs Norris!?" Argus wails. "My cat has been killed! I want to see someone punished!"

"Perhaps a student joke gone wrong?" Severus asks, his face blank but his mind clearly whirring busily away in the background.

"Unlikely," Albus says firmly. "Someone clearly left Mrs Norris there to be found. That is beyond doubt. A stunning spell would have done the trick if all they wanted to do was make a statement. But stunning spells don't kill."

"They could do," I say uneasily. "Mrs Norris is after all a small creature and she isn't young by feline standards; an overly powered stunning spell could put undue pressure on her heart, perhaps? Or maybe more than one person aiming a stunner at the same time? Not considering the combined effect of multiple spells?"

"So they didn't even mean to kill her?" Argus' voice is strained, and I begin to wonder about the state of his heart. "And they still tied her up like that and left…"

His voice disappears in a fresh round of sobbing.

"It's possible…" Albus muses, looking down at the small, pitiful body on my table. "Unfortunately, it's difficult to be certain. I can confirm that there is no trace of dark magic lingering on her body. Something like a stunner likely wouldn't leave that kind of residue, unless it was cast with intent… and as I think has been suggested, there are better spells than a stunner to cause harm." He scratches his nose thoughtfully. "But someone wrote that message on the wall, then left the body where it was certain to be discovered at the end of the Halloween festivities. I would hazard a guess that it was meant to be seen by as many of the students as possible. It was mere luck that you were leading Mister Potter and his friends back to the…"

"Yes!" Argus spits out, glaring about the room but looking, I notice, anywhere but at his dead companion of so many years. "And isn't that a coincidence! He saw my letter! He knows I'm a Squib! That they would be the ones to…"

"Enough, Argus," Albus says quietly but firmly and his tone is enough that our caretaker's jaw snaps shut. "This has already been discussed and I will hear no further mention of it, either here or anywhere else in this castle. Regardless of what was seen or unseen, there is no way any one of those four could have perpetrated this act. They do not have the knowledge or the magical proficiency."

"We are looking for someone who is aware of the legend of the Chamber of Secrets," Severus interjects mildly, his hooded gaze intent. "That rules out the vast majority of students and a large proportion of the faculty."

"So it was one of yours?" Argus hisses furiously, only to flinch back from the dark flash in my younger colleague's eyes.

"I did not say that," Severus' tone is silken and soft, but there is danger lurking not far beneath the surface of his words. "You would be wise to refrain from placing words into my mouth, particularly words that contain slanderous allegations about those in my care."

"Argus, you are upset and not thinking clearly," Albus remarks kindly with a kind, concerned look on his face. "It is to be expected. How about you go and find that bottle of firewhiskey I know you have hidden in your desk drawer and two glasses. I will be down to speak with you shortly. We will need to arrange some form of funeral for Mrs Norris here and a place for her to be buried."

With that, he gently steers Argus out of his office and turns back to face myself and Severus.

"Speak freely, Severus."

"The Chamber of Secrets is a poor secret amongst the Slytherins, with many rumours abounding over the years as to who the heir might be," Severus says slowly, clearly thinking carefully as he speaks. "There are a few with grandparents who attended Hogwarts when last the Chamber was reputed to be opened, but none I could see doing this. I am still doubtful as to whether such a place even exists at Hogwarts. From the tales of Salazar, I would not put it past him, but to have remained unfound and undisturbed for thousands of years? It seems more unlikely than otherwise."

"But why leave that message now?" I ask. Never mind Argus finding something strong to drink this evening, I wouldn't say no to a glass or maybe three.

"Now that is another question I cannot answer, Minerva," Albus' voice is light, but the frown lines around his eyes reflect his anxiety. "For the moment we shall have to hope that it is a cruel and distasteful prank of some kind. To believe otherwise…"

"What, Albus?" I interject after the silence has been left a little too long.

"I was teaching the last time the Chamber was supposedly opened," he finally continues flatly. "It was a dark time for Hogwarts. A dark time indeed."

"A girl died, didn't she?" Severus asks sharply.

"Yes. Myrtle Elizabeth Warren. Ravenclaw. I believe she would have been about fourteen at the time," Albus sighs heavily, conjuring some heavy dark fabric and wrapping it around Mrs Norris with a few neat twists. "Hagrid was blamed for it in the end. Apparently he had some kind of monster hidden in his cupboard. Or so Tom Riddle would have had us believe."

"Tom Riddle?" My voice comes out as a squeak, cutting off whatever Severus was about to say. I remember my colleagues rant in Albus' office, not far off a year ago. The children that Hogwarts had failed. "You don't mean…"

"Yes, Minerva. Tom Marvolo Riddle. None other than Lord Voldemort himself." He shakes his head sorrowfully. "I always thought something was odd about that time. Something never sat right with me. But nothing I said had any effect. Hagrid was presumed guilty, even after no beast was found in his keeping. His wand snapped, disgraced and expelled. It was all I could to persuade Headmaster Dippet to keep the poor man on as Gamekeeper. There was little else I could do."

"You mean to tell me that we have a convicted felon working at the school?" Severus snarls, his eyes blazing furiously. "One that we know has a fondness for creatures with venom, horns, spikes or best off all, all three in one package? It's no wonder Dippet expelled him. The man surely had form even then!"

"There is a convicted Death Eater on the staff, Severus," Albus replies icily, shocking even Severus into silence. "Do not presume to lecture me on second chances, my boy."

The silence stretches uncomfortably, neither man willing to step aside.

"How would Hagrid have even found the Chamber, if it exists at all?" I finally ask, just to break the building tension.

"He couldn't have," Albus' voice is blunt and final. "There was never any question of that. It was sheer stupidity to think he might have been able to. Regardless of what was or wasn't hidden in his closet, it was nothing to do with the Chamber."

"But Albus," I ask, honestly flummoxed. "What do we do?"

"What can we do but hope, Minerva?" He smiles, but it's not a smile that reaches his eyes. "I have searched high and low for this Chamber, Dippet searched before me and Merlin knows how many incumbents of this position have in the past. I will of course speak to the portraits, but I can't imagine they will have anything new to add."

"And if the Chamber is open?" Severus' voice is quiet, his face grave. "What then?"

"Then it is going to be a dark, dark year for Hogwarts," Albus replies, equally quietly.

"That's it?"

"We will have to take all precautions of course…"

"What precautions can you take against something when you don't even know if it exists!?" I bite out angrily.

"Do you have any better suggestions, Minerva?" Albus asks gently, waiting a long moment before shaking his head. "I thought not. We will have to wait and hope. That is all we can do for now. Now, please excuse me. I should go and see to Argus. He really shouldn't be alone."

The black bundle of cloth raises once more at his brief command and he leaves my office, mercifully taking the dead animal with him. I wonder what he will do with it. I suspect Hagrid will find himself dealing with the hole digging side of things.

"There must be something else we can do?" I exclaim to Severus.

"I'll ask around my House. Carefully. See what I can come up with." He mutters, pacing around the room before looking up at me. "It's been all but forgotten for years though, and Hogwarts: A History only gives a potted account…" His gaze sharpens. "You were there when they found the damn cat. Was there anything else that seemed odd? Anything at all."

"You mean other than a dead cat and words written across the wall telling us that a mythical Chamber is open and we are all doomed?" I ask archly.

"Not all doomed," Severus responds with a wry one-sided smirk. "Only enemies of the Heir, by the looks of it. You'll be fine. If it's Slytherin's heir then it's only the muggle born that need to worry. Maybe the half-bloods."

"Oh don't," I snap sharply. I know he's only trying to help, but it isn't a laughing matter. "But… actually…" I tail off, thinking of the one thing I'd forgotten in all this chaos. One really important thing. So important that I can't believe I didn't mention it immediately. "Yes. There was. Potter was acting extremely strangely. He was talking about hearing a voice or something like that. Except there was nothing there. None of us could hear anything; Mister Longbottom, Weasley and Miss Granger were just as taken aback as I was. It was quite frightening actually."

"Voices?" Severus' tone has sharpened noticeably. "What were they saying?"

"I don't really know," I reply, thinking hard. "He mentioned something about how they were getting away and going to kill someone and then hared off round a bend and we were all too busy trying to keep up to hear anything else in honesty. Why does it mean something to you? I was thinking more of getting him to Madam Pomfrey, until we came across Mrs Norris of course and everything slipped away from me."

"It would be worth having Madam Pomfrey check the boy out, I admit," Severus muses thoughtfully. "Rule out any kind of psychotic episode. But it seems more than passing odd that it would occur so soon before finding the cat. The body was still warm and limp. Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet. It had only just been killed and moments before Potter hears a voice saying it's going to kill someone. Did he say where it was coming from?"

"He didn't. But he was in quite some distress and looking all around him. Then he said something like, 'It's moving. It's further away,' and bolted." I think harder but can't come up with any further details. It all happened so fast. One moment I was shepherding them towards food they could actually eat, rather than smell from a mile off, and the next… "It was really unnerving, Severus, I don't mind saying."

"I would imagine," he remarks dryly. "This bears thinking upon. You are certain that you didn't hear anything? That your Gryffindors didn't?"

"I think I might have noticed a voice coming from the walls announcing its intention to murder someone in the castle, Severus." My words are sharper than my tone. "No, I am absolutely certain. None of us heard as much as a whisper."

"Hmm…" He stands and walks to the door as he speaks. "Get the boy looked over by Poppy. It isn't all that unusual for psychosis to manifest as apparent external voices or even smells and images. I suspect that he heard something though. The question is what?"

"And where!" I shake my head. "As I said there was nothing there."

"There are ways to remain invisible to the eye. Many creatures use it as a defence mechanism and it is not unheard of for the more powerful witch or wizard." He turns and looks at me. "The simplest mechanism would be the Disillusionment Charm, but there are other more complex and far more effective means, providing you have the time, the inclination and the strength of course. Or the money. And there is a lot of money floating around in some of the older houses, as well you know."

As the door closes, a thought strikes me. There's a lot of money, power and magical power in more places than just the old houses. There's an awful lot around the Ministry as well. Perhaps it is time to check on how Amelia and her team are getting on with Quirrell and the dangerous shade of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named he had stuck to the back of his head last time I saw him.

It is the work of the moment to send Pantherus winging off towards the Ministry. Something tells me that I would be wise to cover all the possible bases.

After all, we know exactly where to find an incarnation of Tom Riddle, of sorts at least.

I would prefer to avoid any more unpleasant surprises.