Chapter 25: Scared
"Today, we will be brewing the Beautification Potion," Professor Snape announced as we settled into class. We were now well into the middle of October and classes had been steadily moving away from the simplicity of first year magic towards more complicated second year magic.
Upon hearing which potion we would be making, Ron made a remark to Harry, but I didn't hear as he was sitting on Harry's other side.
"As you all should remember, last year, we brewed the Anti-Aging Potion. Does anybody remember what that potion does?" Professor Snape asked. I raised my hand immediately, and only after Professor Snape had looked at everyone else did he finally concede and allow me to answer.
"The Anti-Aging Potion stops the visual aging process in older witches and wizards and gives the illusion that they are still young. The potion does not change the individual's age, nor does it slow down or stop the individual from undergoing the inner aging process. However, it will prevent the individual's outer appearance from changing and deteriorating due to age. For example, hair does not appear to change to white or grey and wrinkles do not become visible," I replied, reciting the description given in Magical Drafts and Potions.
"Thank you, Ms. Granger," Professor Snape said. "Next time, try to be creative enough to use your own words." Last year, this would have been cause for complete and utter mortification. I had grown used to it by now though, and though my face did heat up, I didn't take what he said to heart.
"Ms. Granger is, however, correct," Professor Snape said, and I could see that he didn't particularly like that he had to say that. "The Anti-Aging Potion gives people, as Arsenius Jigger puts it, the illusion that they are still young. It does not actually change the individual's appearance. It causes the individual and those around them to see something that is not really there. It creates an illusion."
"The Beautification Potion, however, is much more complex than this. This potion actually causes the body to change. The individual's appearance is altered. Not only do people appear more attractive, their features actually change to make them more attractive," Professor Snape continued.
"There are a number of potions of this sort, referred to as appearance altering potions. The Beautification Potion is the simplest, and therefore we will be beginning with that. It is imperative that you all successfully brew the Beautification Potion in order to be able to continue with the more complicated potions we will be brewing this year. In addition, the basics of the Beautification Potion will carry into all appearance altering potions you ever make. Even the most complicated appearance altering potion will require the basic methods learned today," Professor Snape said.
"Sir, what is the most complicated appearance altering potion?" I heard Malfoy ask from the front of the room.
"That, Mr. Malfoy, would be the Polyjuice Potion, which when brewed correctly, can change an individual's entire appearance and transform them into another person. However, this potion is not on the curriculum for second years, and therefore there is no reason to learn about it," Professor Snape answered.
He then had us begin to brew the Beautification Potion. Malfoy was sitting right in front of Professor Snape's desk, and when I went up to get an empty flask for my potion, I heard him questioning Professor Snape further on the Polyjuice Potion.
"Mr. Malfoy, the Polyjuice Potion is highly dangerous. It can only be found in a book called Moste Potente Potions, which can only be found in the restricted section of the library. If you ever did brew it, it would be in a seventh year N.E.W.T class, certainly not in the first term of second year," Professor Snape was saying as I passed by the table.
By the time I returned to my cauldron, I had to completely focus on brewing my Beautification Potion and when we finally left class, I had pushed all thought of the Polyjuice Potion to the back of my mind.
That weekend, Ron and I were sitting in the common room, working on an essay for Professor Snape about the basic theory of appearance altering potions while Harry was at Quidditch practice. Ron was getting frustrated because every time he wrote a paragraph, I read it over and informed him that it was wrong. I was only trying to help him. I probably would have been gentler about it if he had bothered to open his potions book to find the answers, but as it was, he was just being lazy.
When I was finished, I let Ron read my essay and told him he could not copy it, but that he could use my ideas. While Ron began to properly write his essay, I flipped through the textbook to read up about the next potion we would be brewing – the Aging Potion, which contrary to the Anti-Aging Potion, actually does make the person who drinks it physically age.
"Chess?" Ron asked after a little while, surprising me and causing me to look up.
"Finished already?" I frowned.
Ron nodded, and I grabbed his essay and pulled it towards me to read through. It actually wasn't half bad. More of it than I'd like had been obviously taken from my essay, but it was worded differently enough that it looked like we'd just discussed the topic together and not like I'd given him my essay to cheat off of. It was definitely an improvement over what he'd been producing earlier.
I told him so, and Ron smirked proudly.
"Not as dumb as you thought I was," he declared.
"I never said you were dumb," I replied. "Just unmotivated."
We didn't get the chance to play chess though, because at that moment, Harry returned from his quidditch practice, covered in mud, and going on about something about Filch and Sir Nicholas and a Deathday Party on Halloween. It sounded really interesting. I'd never been to a Deathday Party. In fact, I hadn't know that was even a thing that ghosts did until now. It was sure to be an educational experience.
"You're really not coming to the feast?" Sally-Anne asked as she and Lily were heading down to the Great Hall on Halloween.
I shook my head. "I told you, I've been invited to a party."
"Yeah, we heard," Lily said judgementally. "Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party."
"It's Sir Nicholas," I corrected Lily. Not that I never called him Nearly Headless Nick, but I didn't appreciate her disdain for my plans for the evening. "And you're more than welcome to come."
"Not a chance," Sally-Anne sniffed. "We'll be at the feast, with the real people."
"Ghosts are people too," I cried, not liking her connotation. "Or at least, they were real people."
"Whatever," Lily said, flipping her hair. "Do what you want, Hermione. It's not like we care. If you'd rather spend your time in the dungeons with a bunch of dead people, that's your prerogative."
I didn't bother arguing with the girls any further. I knew from experience that we would never come to an agreement, and the argument would only keep on going forever. And I would rather join Harry and Ron at the Deathday Party than spend the entire evening arguing with my dormmates.
Unfortunately, I found myself rather disappointed an hour later, when I realized that Lily and Sally-Anne had been right. Going to the feast would have been a much better decision. As interesting as it was to be in attendance at a Deathday Party, there was no edible food, the music was almost painful to listen to, it was freezing cold, and the conversation was mediocre at best.
Once I felt we had stayed at the party long enough to be polite, we left, heading back up to the Great Hall in the hopes that there would still be some food left. I was starving, and I could only imagine the state Ron's stomach was in, given the amount of food he was accustomed to.
When we were almost at the Great Hall, Harry suddenly began acting very strange. He pressed himself up against the wall, and then started running in the opposite direction that we'd been going.
Ron and I called out to him, telling him to stop and asking what he was doing, but everything he said was confused and didn't make any sense. We followed him, wondering whether he'd gone mad from hunger or something, and then I saw something that had me freezing on the spot.
There, on the wall, were words, written in what I hoped was red paint simply meant to look like blood. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.
The words seemed familiar, and yet, I couldn't remember where I had heard about the Chamber of Secrets before. I felt like it was Nicholas Flamel all over again. Something about it seemed off though. Last year, with the search for Nicolas Flamel, I'd felt a sense of unquenchable curiosity. This mystery felt more sinister, more threatening. It probably had something to do with the threatening message on the wall.
Just when I thought things couldn't get more bizarre, Ron pointed to something just under where the words were written. It was Mrs. Norris, Flich's cat, and she was hanging from the torch bracket by her tail, unmoving. I would have said she was dead, but there was something eerily unsettling about how stiff she was.
I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit. Whatever this was, it was way bigger than the three of us. We needed to get an adult – a teacher. We needed to get Professor McGonagall, or Professor Dumbledore.
I made to move away, but I froze yet again when I turned and saw that the entire school had just been let out of the feast. They were closing in from both sides of the corridor, and Harry, Ron and I were standing there, appearing very much as though we were guilty.
When the students caught sight of the wall behind us, all the talking came to an end. It became so quiet; you probably could have heard a pin drop. Then, from the silence, there came a voice.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next mudbloods!" the voice said. I recognized it as Malfoy's voice, and then there he was, standing right at the front of the crowd, staring right at me and grinning.
I felt something inside me clench. The writing on the wall was a threat to the whole school, but Malfoy was looking right at me. Somehow, by the look on his face, I knew that his threat wasn't for all the muggle-borns of the school. His threat was for me, and for me alone.
Normally, I wouldn't be afraid of Malfoy. Malfoy was just an insecure child who needed to threaten and insult and make fun of others to make himself feel superior. But today, with Mrs. Norris seemingly dead, and with the ominous words written on the wall above, Malfoy's threat wasn't so insignificant. I was scared.