Many thanks to those who review, and on with the next chapter! ~F
Chapter Three
Voices in the Shadows
Harry dodged out of sight the next few days whenever he saw Lockhart coming down a corridor, Faykan usually hot on his heels. Unfortunately, it was much harder for Harry to avoid Colin Creevey, who must have memorized Harry's schedule. However, Faykan wasn't very fond of the first year boy, so whenever he appeared to be pestering Harry (all the time), Faykan would throw him a glare that generally sent the small boy running away as fast as his legs could carry him with his generic farewell of "See you Harry."
Hedwig was still angry with Harry about the disastrous car journey and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, Faykan and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning.
Harry, however, was shook awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wood said something about a new training program, coercing Harry to get up, and he pulled on his Quidditch robes grudgingly. As Harry wrote a note for Ron, telling him where he'd gone he noticed that Faykan bed was empty, but he paid no mind, as Faykan was prone to drifting around the school at night, tonight the reason was probably to let off steam from Lockhart's most recent class. Lockhart had dragged both him and Harry to the front of the class to reenact scenes from his books, much to the amusement of the rest of the second year Gryffindors.
Harry sighed lightly as he shouldered his Nimbus Two Thousand and left the dormitory, wishing that he could just crawl back into bed. Just as he reached the portrait hole, Harry heard a clatter behind him and turned to see Colin Creevey dash down the stairs, his camera swinging madly around his neck.
"All right, Harry?" he asked, as he usually did six or seven time a day.
"Hello, Colin," Harry said back dryly. He was about to leave again when Colin stopped in front of him holding the camera. "Harry, could I please have just one photo to send home, even if you don't sign it, please?" he begged.
"Not right now Colin, I'm in a hurry, Quidditch practice." Harry replied as he finally stepped through the portrait hole.
"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"
Colin scrambled through the hole after him.
"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.
"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?"
Harry was certain that the boy was going to drive him mad when he saw Colin dash ahead of him and bend down. When the boy turned back, Harry almost laughed out loud as he saw Faykan the fox in his arms. "Harry look at this, I saw this fox inside Gryffindor Tower before, isn't it amazing looking…" Colin kept right on talking, carrying Faykan and following Harry out of the castle, absently petting Faykan's fur rather harder than Harry thought could have been pleasant. Thankfully Faykan didn't try to bite Colin but simply resigned himself to being clung to like a stuffed animal.
When Harry finally reached the changing rooms, Colin dashed off to the stadium to get a seat to watch, and dropped Faykan by accident in his mad dash across the Quidditch field. Harry held the door open for his friend, and once they were inside Faykan changed back into human form, scowling.
"Did I ever mention how much I hate being petted by that kid…?" Faykan said while Harry laughed. "I honestly can't believe how early he wakes up, by the time I come back before dawn that kid is already in the common room either reading or playing with that stupid camera."
Faykan left the changing room when the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived, and when they finally got onto the pitch, he was circling it in the air on his custom broomstick while Ron and Hermione sat in the stands with Colin nearby. The team practiced for a short time, Colin snapping picture after picture of them, until Faykan finally flew down and took the camera from the boy, remaining there to make sure he didn't use it anymore that morning.
It was about this time that Wood noticed the Slytherin team walking onto the field, brooms in their hands.
"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"
Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.
"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"
Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."
Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering. Wood argued with Flint about how he had booked the field, but Flint merely showed him a note signed by Professor Snape.
'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'
When questioned about their new seeker, Draco stepped forward through the large Slytherin boys. Harry sent Draco a curt nod, showing his own support of him making the team, even if it meant they would be competing against him. Flint then made a show of how Draco's father had sent the entire team Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. As Ron, Hermione, Faykan and Colin made their way to the field; Flint continued to taunt the Gryffindor team's inferior brooms. Hermione piped up that at least the people on the Gryffindor team got there by pure talent. Draco sent her a hurt look while Flint spat, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."
There was a pair of loud bangs and both Ron and Flint was lying on the ground, moaning in pain, while Faykan had his wand out, eyes shining in pure malice, paralyzing the rest of the Slytherin team.
"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. He had clearly tried to curse Flint as well, but his Spellotaped wand had backfired.
Faykan helped Harry carry Ron, and with Hermione in tow, they headed to Hagrid's hut while leaving the rest of the Gryffindor team to deal with the problem of the Slytherins. Colin started to follow, but Faykan shoved him out of the way angrily. They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.
"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, he and Faykan dragging Ron behind a nearby bush while Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly.
"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one, I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!" And he strode away toward the castle.
After Lockhart was out of sight, Harry knocked on Hagrid's door while Faykan and Hermione carried Ron to the doorstep. They seated Ron in a chair while Hagrid placed a large copper basin in front of him, explaining that there wasn't anything they could do but wait for the curse to stop. Harry and Faykan then explained what had happened to at the Quidditch pitch, and Hagrid comforted Hermione, telling her not to think about it, and praising her about how she was better and more clever then any student in the school, and was able to perform any spell ever invented.
About an hour later Harry's stomach rumbled loudly. It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bite of treacle fudge since dawn at Hagrid's hut, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said goodbye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two very small slugs.
They had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are." Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking stern. "You three will do your detentions this evening."
"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.
"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall, "And no magic, Weasley, elbow grease." Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.
"Undol, you will be assisting Professor Snape harvesting potion ingredients in the Forbidden Forest. And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.
"Oh no, Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room or the forest, too?" said Harry desperately.
"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, you three."
Harry and Ron complained loudly about their detentions as the four Gryffindors made their way into the Great Hall, Hermione giving them a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Harry noticed that Faykan was silent the entire time, and when he turned to look at him, he saw that his friend was actually smiling, "What are you grinning at?" he asked rather hotly.
"Well, better Snape than Lockhart, Harry," he said and burst up into a fit of laughter, which made Harry slug him hard in the shoulder.
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The night was dark and clear when Severus Snape took Undol out into the forest to gather plants for his Potion classes. They trudged on in silence for the first half hour, collecting knotgrass and the occasional belladonna they came past, and Severus was starting to enjoy the silence of the forest when he heard Undol call him over. "Professor, come look at this."
Severus hurried over, wondering what the Gryffindor could have found, when he saw Undol shining his wand at a long trail of spiders making their way deep into the forest. Severus raised his eyebrows, the actions of the spiders was strange enough, but the fact remained that they were here to collect herbs, not study the behavior of the wildlife of the grounds. "Whatever those spiders are up to is not of your concern Undol, now come along. There is a small pond nearby I want to check for asphodel." The boy looked slightly sorrowful to leave the mystery of the spiders alone, but dutifully followed behind Severus.
When they reached the pond, Severus set Undol to pulling the long royal staffs from the ground and piling them in the container he had brought, which gave him time to finally regard the boy he had watched for almost a year now. Undol had grown slightly, still small for his age, but catching up quickly. His hair was still kept at shoulder length, just as Severus remembered the boy's father keeping it, and they shared the same piercing blue eyes. It was oddly reminiscent of how Potter reflected his father's features, apart for his mothers emerald eyes, which Severus had always found enchanting.
"Professor Snape?" Severus blinked, he was so busy recalling the face of Lily Evans that he didn't notice Undol come back to dump another pile of asphodel in his lap. Severus looked at the boy, waiting for him to speak again, but the boy shook his head, and turned to go harvest more plants. Severus, acting on impulse, grabbed the boys arm and pulled him to face him. Rolling up the boy's sleeve, he exposed the grey tattoos that covered the boy's arms. They shined in the moonlight filtering through the trees, looking almost black against the boy's skin. "What, Mr. Undol are these?" Severus asked, looking at the boys face for a reaction.
If the boy was surprised by Severus' sudden questioning, Undol didn't show it, "They're the markings of my family, Sir. The Undol line was very close ages ago to the mighty Istari that roamed the earth roughly five thousand years ago." Severus raised an eyebrow, "And your family can prove this with records from that far back?" he asked releasing the boy's arm. "Indeed, we have the records of many of the pureblood families in our vaults and at our ancestral home, dating well back into the Third Age of the earth." Undol turned to leave again, but Severus stopped him again, saying that their hour was up and it was time to return to the castle.
Severus watched the boy walk ahead of him, wondering at what the boy had revealed to him. 'Strange,' he thought, 'that this boy could be so mature and knowledgeable at the age of twelve. The Istari of the Third Age? No other records date that far back, they were all uniformly halted somewhere in the Middle Ages.'
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When Harry finally returned to Gryffindor Tower after four long hours of enduring Lockhart's prattle, he found Faykan waiting for him in the deserted common room. He grinned as Harry come through the portrait hole, "back already, I thought Lockhart would have you there until tomorrow easily." Harry laughed sarcastically, and they went up to their dormitory, while Faykan told him about his time in the forest, especially about the odd behavior of the spiders he had seen. Harry remembered suddenly the chilling voice he had heard at the end of his detention and told Faykan about it. Faykan eyes sparkled as Harry described how it had spoke about killing and death, but he didn't comment.
They climbed into bed and Harry waited for Ron to return. Another half hour rolled by until Ron entered the dormitory, complaining about the trophies that Filch had him polishing fourteen times because he had spit a slug on it by accident. Harry told him about the voice and what Faykan had seen in the forest, and at the mention of spiders Ron shuddered.
"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" Ron said curiously. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "Do you think he was lying? But I don't get it; even someone invisible would've had to open the door."
"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it either."
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Draco found Hermione and Ron in the library one wet and cold Saturday morning in late October. He had wandered in to work on a History of Magic essay, when he saw Hermione stacking what looked like twenty books onto the desk she and Ron were sharing. Walking over, Draco saw that Hermione was currently pouring over 'Abridged History of the Third Age,' while Ron worked on his Potions assignment. "Hello, Draco," Hermione said without looking up from her book.
"Hey, what are you researching there Hermione?" Draco responded, sitting across from her and pulling out his essay.
She didn't respond at first, focusing on a line in her book. Finally, after a moment or two she clapped her hands in excitement "I've figured it out," she said joyously.
"Figured out what?" Draco said, confused.
"Hermione's trying to find out what language Faykan spoke when he cast a spell at Lockhart and Nott weeks ago," Ron said dryly, "I think she's obsessed…"
Hermione shot him a look and finally turned to Draco, "Haven't you noticed that Faykan usually casts his spell silently, except is rare occasions, and then it's mostly in that strange airy language that no one can understand?" Draco nodded; he had noticed that Faykan seemed rather adept at silent spells. "I knew it had to be something exceptionally rare, as I mentioned it to Professor Flitwick and even he wasn't sure, so I've been looking for old and dead languages, and I found that the extinct high elves, who according to legend lived on the earth well over two thousand years ago before disappearing, spoke a language know as Sindaren, which according to these descriptions is the closest thing I can find that fits they tones and structure that Faykan speaks when he casts."
"Did you know," Draco added casually, "that according to the legend, the last high elven female married a great king of men, and they became the first ancestors of the pureblood lines." Draco suddenly remembered the paper that Faykan had left for him to read when he left Malfoy Manor that summer. "I just remembered, Faykan knows this legend, I think…"
Draco then explained everything that Faykan had done during the month of July, how he had been working night and day on a family record of the early middle ages. "I think," Hermione said after Draco had finished, "that he might know far more about the truth behind this legend than the wizarding community remembers."
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Harry and Faykan were trudging down a deserted corridor, soaked through from the pouring rain outside. Harry had been up bright and early that morning at Quidditch practice while Faykan had watched from the stands. As they were returning to Gryffindor Tower, they passed by Nearly Headless Nick staring out of a window, muttering under his breath about not fulfilling requirements.
"Hello, Nick," Harry said absently, his mind elsewhere.
The Gryffindor ghost responded his greetings, and commented on how Harry looked rather troubled, which was very true. Harry had heard about the performance of the Slytherin's Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones from Fred and George, who had spied on some of their training sessions. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven green blurs, shooting through the air like missiles. When Faykan commented that Nick looked just as preoccupied as Harry, the ghost launched into a rant about not being allowed to participate in the headless hunt, a special society of headless ghosts.
Harry was about to make up an excuse for them to leave Nick and return to Gryffindor Tower, when a high pitched mewling sounded at his ankles. Both he and Faykan looked down to see Mrs. Norris' lamp like eyes gazing at them. "You'd better get out of here, boys," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood; he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place…"
"Right," Harry said, backing away from Mrs. Norris as Faykan changed into his animagus form. Nick widened his eyes as he watched the boy change into a rather soaked fox, looking oddly tiny with his fur plastered to his body from the water coating him. Faykan had changed just in time, as Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.
"Filth!" he shouted his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!"
So Harry waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick and Faykan the fox as he followed Filch back downstairs, adding to the number of muddy footprints on the floor.
Harry had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment, muttering about the time he would have to spend cleaning the mess Harry had made.
Just as Filch was about to declare his punishment for Harry, there was a deafening bang and a crash just above them. Filch roared and ran from the room, with Mrs. Norris hot on his heels. Thinking that he should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harry sank into a moth eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read: 'Kwikspell A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic.'
Harry was about to flick open the letter, intrigued, when shuffling footsteps outside told him Filch was coming back. Harry threw the envelope back onto the desk just as the door opened. Filch was looking furious. "That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was saying to Mrs. Norris. "I do hope we catch whoever thought it would be a good idea to demolish it." His eyes fell on Harry and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope, which, Harry realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started. Filch's pasty face went brick red and he began sputtering angrily, demanding if Harry had read the letter, declaring that it wasn't his, and finally throwing Harry out of his office without a punishment.
Amazed at his luck, Harry sped out of the office, up the corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.
"Harry! Harry! Did it work?"
Faykan was running down the corridor with Nick gliding behind, "Nick suggested that I should blow up that cabinet to try and distract Filch."
"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks!"
Faykan beamed and they continued their way to Gryffindor Tower, Nick gliding beside them. Harry noticed that he was still holding the rejection letter from the Headless Hunt. Harry asked if there was anything he could do for Nick about the Hunt, and the ghost brightened, explaining that he was having his five hundredth deathday party that Halloween in the dungeons, and he asked if Harry and Faykan would attend, if only for a small time.
"Oh, of course we'll come," Harry said, elbowing Faykan in the ribs before he could complain. Nick joyously glided away, and Harry led the way to the common room while Faykan protested loudly about how boring going to the deathday party would be.
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Hermione was excited to attend the deathday party, while both Ron and Faykan complained about missing the Halloween feast, which rumor had that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment. But Harry wouldn't go back on his promise and at seven the four Gryffindors walked straight past the very inviting doorway that led to the packed Great Hall, and down the steps towards the dungeons.
The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.
"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.
"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome . . . so pleased you could come..."
It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer. Harry suggested that they look around, at least to warm up their feet. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead as they made their way carefully around the edge of the dance floor.
"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle…"
"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly, but it was too late. A squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Harry had ever seen, half hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles. She looked at each of them sulkily, and when her eyes settled on Faykan, who was bright red at this point, she brightened. "Oh, it's the fox boy." She said to him, and Faykan mumbled something that sounded like 'hello' as he turned walk away from her. While Myrtle followed and continued to talk the ever increasingly agitated Faykan, Hermione explained to Ron and Harry that she haunted the girl's bathroom on the first floor. As she mentioned that she was incredibly sensitive, they all jumped as a piercing wail. They whipped around in time to see Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and flee from the dungeon, leaving a shocked and still very red Faykan standing next to Nick.
"What happened to Myrtle?" Hermione said as they joined Faykan and Nick. Faykan didn't look like he wanted to answer, and Nick spoke for him, "Miss Myrtle got a trifle upset when I insisted that she give young Mr. Undol a bit of space. She was making quite a scene, and I felt that Mr. Undol was becoming rather embarrassed at her advances."
Faykan's faced glowed the rest of the time they spent at the deathday party. Harry finally indulged his silent requests to leave when the Headless Hunt arrived and started to disrupt the festivities with their games of headless polo.
They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.
"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall. Hermione was pestering Faykan about what Myrtle had been saying to him, but Faykan was refusing to talk about it. "I just want to put tonight behind us," he said, his face burning.
And then Harry heard it.
"... Rip ... tear ... kill ..."
It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart's office.
He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.
"Harry, what're you…?"
"It's that voice again, shut up a minute…"
"... So hungry ... for so long ..."
"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Faykan, Ron and Hermione froze, watching him.
"... Kill ... time to kill ..."
The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away, moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling. "This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron his friends clattering behind him.
"Harry, what're we…"
Harry hushed them, straining his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: "... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD!"
His stomach lurched.
"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring the three Gryffindor's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps.
Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Faykan, Ron and Hermione racing behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.
"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything..."
But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.
"Look!"
Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches:
'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.'
"What's that thing hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.
As they edged nearer, Faykan almost slipped, there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash... Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.
For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."
"Shouldn't we try and help…" Harry began awkwardly.
"Trust me," said Faykan. "We don't want to be found here."
But it was too late as a rumble from below told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood soon was alive with the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.
The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Faykan, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.
Then someone shouted through the quiet.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
It was Theodore Nott. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his eyes alive as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.
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Severus arrived with Dumbledore just in time to see Argus Filch holding Potter up by the collar of his robes, shaking him with fury as the students looked on in horror.
"You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll…"
"Argus!" called the Headmaster, freezing the caretaker and causing him to release his hold on Potter. The boy scrambled back to his friends, who were all huddled against the opposite wall, as Dumbledore swept over to inspect the body of Mrs. Norris. Gently he removed the cat's stiffened form and motioned for Severus and Professor McGonagall to follow him, "Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch, and motioned toward Potter and his friends, "and you four as well."
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.
"My office is nearest, Headmaster; just upstairs… please feel free…"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.
The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart bounded after Albus looking excited and important, followed by Severus and McGonagall, with Potter's group bringing up the rear.
As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; several of Lockhart's ridiculous pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back as Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Potter, Weasley, Granger and Undol exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.
Lockhart annoyingly hovered around, offering ludicrous suggestions about made up curses and other nonsense that he wrote in his fictional books that Severus could see was interfering with Albus' concentration.
"She's not dead, Argus," the Headmaster said softly, when he finally straightened. "She has been Petrified, but how I cannot say…"
"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Potter.
"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly, and Severus agreed with him to a point. No normal second year could have managed it, but Severus believed, no he knew that Undol was not anything near ordinary. Filch continued to argue that Potter was the guilty party with Albus, and Severus decided that it was time to vouch his opinion, "If I might speak, Headmaster," he said as he stepped into the candlelight, "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time." He glanced at Undol, conveying his suspicion of the boy to Albus. "But," he continued, "we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor and not at the Halloween feast?"
Potter, Weasley and Granger started explaining about Nick's yearly deathday party that he held at the same time as the feast. Strangely Undol remained silent during their explanation, embarrassment evident on his face. "But why were you in that corridor after, and not joining the feast after you left?" Potter gave a weak excuse of them being tired, and Weasley tried to back it up that they weren't hungry, while Undol continued to be silent.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," Albus said firmly, after he had probed the minds of Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Severus knew that try as Dumbledore might, Undol was far too aware of their abilities to be caught off guard for legilimency. Filch looked furious, still thinking that they were discussing Potter.
"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Albus said patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."
"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep…"
"Excuse me," Severus interjected icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."
After a very awkward pause the Headmaster turned to Potter and the other three Gryffindors, "You may go," he said simply.
After the four students left, Albus sent McGonagall and Lockhart to take Mrs. Norris to the Hospital Wing and Filch to go try and get some rest. When they were out of sight, Severus launched into his suspicions, "Headmaster, I feel that it is possible, if not probable that Mr. Undol is capable of causing the petrifaction of Mrs. Norris. It may be advisable to…" Albus cut him off mid sentence.
"I do not believe, Severus that any of those four Gryffindors are responsible for what happened tonight. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger are certainly not capable of causing it, and I do not believe that it would be in Mr. Undol's intention to do such a dark spell to simply petrify Mrs. Norris."
"Then," Severus said, "what do you believe is the reason Albus?"
Albus looked very grave, "I think, that whoever opened the Chamber fifty years ago has sent a successor, or has returned to continue attacking the students of this school…"
Potential Spoilers Ahead, you have been warned!
Main source of changes here were in the scene with Faykan and SEverus out in the forest, solidifying the fact that Faykan knows much of his family, and indeed the wizarding world's history, far more than any other Pureblood. However, due to the need for a realistic revelation of the main plot, most of it was left fairly canon. Yes, i know many people still have grief regarding the heavy use of canon in this book, but they missunderstand how powerful Faykan actually is. he cannot foresee events before they happen, so unless it is something he was already privy to, he wouldn't have cause to act, and it is not in his nature to do more than is needed to nudge the others toward a solution, due to the mandate of the Valar. Granted, in time that will change as we progress further into the story, but as it stands they are very reaction-oriented to events around then, rather than preparing for and changing events from the canon. i hope that clears up some of the spoken and unspoken missunderstandings thusfar. More next time everyone!
~F