Chapter 16: The First Attack
The first few weeks of classes were eventful, to say the least. Albus received no less than 50 complaints about the new teacher from every other single member of his staff.
Professor Binns seemed to be the only one that didn't have any problems with Lockhart, but then again he rarely remembered Albus had replaced Armando Dippet as Headmaster some time ago. Madam Pomfrey was threatening to give Lockhart a real injury if he kept trying to give her advice on how to do her job, Spout had been heard that she wanted nothing more than to feed him to a few of the plants that she kept locked up in Greenhouse 3—and Flickwick was growing so annoyed that he had been planning to jinx Lockhart so that his teeth would fall out.
Even Sibyll Trelawney was harboring ill feelings towards Lockhart. She met Gilderoy after breakfast the first day of classes, but avoided further conversation with him by almost permanently locking herself in her secluded tower. Gilderoy once told Albus during one of his lengthy and biased conversations that he could never seem to find the entrance to the North Tower, and the magical trapdoor just never seemed to want to open for him. Albus chuckled at that.
Severus was dropping hints to him almost every mealtime that he thought it would be a good demonstration to a few of the 6th years about the potions that melted your bones in under a minute before they killed you and he wanted Lockhart to test them out for him. Minerva was seen with her hands twitching towards her wand every time she saw Lockhart, as though she was aching to turn him into a shrew or something.
As tempting as their offers were, he couldn't allow it. Sometimes he really hated his job. Suddenly there was a knock on his office door. "Come in," he called gravely.
And Professor Pomona Spout came in, looking angry.
"Evening, Dumbledore," she said gruffly. Albus sighed, having a good idea about what this was about.
"A pleasant evening to you, Pomona," he said pleasantly. "Please, come sit down. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
Her gray hair was even more frazzled than usual, and she had a distinctly put-out expression on her normally kind face as she took a candy from the dish and popped it into her mouth in just one fluid, aggravated motion. "I was just wondering if you got my message?" she asked after a pause.
"Ah, yes I did," Albus said happily. "I know that you've been working on healing the Whomping willow all week. How's that going?"
Pomona waved a hand away. "Well enough. It's a burly tree, I'm sure I can get it completely repaired within the next week at most," she added with a bit of her normal cheerfulness and pride in her work crept into her voice.
But that quickly vanished as she frowned. "Gilderoy had some interesting…er… remarks on the process," she said acidly. "Nothing useful, and most—if not all of it—was completely false or made-up."
She leaned back in her chair and stared at Albus. "I won't have to deal with that idiot too much, will I? He's a big-headed fool, Albus, and an arrogant one to boot."
Albus smiled. "I do think that's the most polite phrasing I've heard about Lockhart this week, Pomona."
She just gave him an aggrieved stare. "I don't like complaining about people, Albus, especially a fellow professor," she stopped there for a minute, and Albus was willing to bet everything he owned that she highly doubted that Lockhart counted for a teacher.
"But that blonde ego-manic stretches my patience to the breaking point. And if that isn't bad enough, I have to listen to some of the girls in my classes talk about how handsome he is!"
Pomona let the sentence trail off in disgust. "Couldn't you just speak to him about sticking to his own subject, Albus? I could almost deal with the girls if I didn't have Gilderoy lecturing me about my plants."
"I'll do what I can," he promised, his eyes twinkling. "But you do realize that there is a good chance that he might not listen."
"Of course, but the attempt is all I ask." She heaved herself up from the chair in front of his desk and sighed. "Thanks for listening at least. Good evening, then, Albus."
"Until tomorrow, dear Pomona," he answered courteously.
Albus went back to the letters that he had received from Cornelius that day—he had just read a letter wondering of the possibilities of holding the TriWizard Tournament in a few years—when someone said, "Albus?"
He looked up and smiled at who had spoken to him, "Good evening, Dilys."
"Dumbledore," Dilys Derwent said with a slight nod and wave.
"And how is Harry doing this evening?"
She seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. "Well, he successfully avoided Lockhart most of the day. And for most of the week come to think of it. Not as lucky with that Creevey boy—I think that they both memorized Harry's schedule or something."
"I'd imagine he was at least pleased that he didn't have to deal with Gilderoy today," Albus said.
"Yes. The man keeps trying to convince Harry he's nothing more than a minor celebrity, while at the same time he's trying to puff up his own small achievements; which I would be astounded if half of them are true."
"Half of them?" Phineas Nigellus said. "If any of them were true then I will…!"
"The Weasley boy doesn't like him either," Dily went on before Phineas finished. "But I think that Granger's infatuated." Dilys wrinkled her nose slightly in distaste. "I must say that I much prefer Harry's way of dealing with fame. I mean, he's more famous than Lockhart ever will be without even bothering! Harry sure seems to hate all the attention."
"Yes, he does," Albus said approvingly, "He had his detention last night, didn't he?"
"Yes, with Lockhart. Funny thing, though. Last night Harry said that he heard a voice. And I heard him telling Granger while he was walking down to breakfast this morning, that it was a voice that only he could hear."
Albus raised his eyebrows and fiddled with the end of his beard in a thoughtful manner. "A voice? Do you know who was it?"
"Well, that's just it," the portrait responded with a shrug. "There wasn't a voice. At least, not one that I heard while I was keeping an eye on him in detention. Speaking of which, did I really have to hide in one of Lockhart's portraits?" she asked in outrage. "I had to stand there for about 4 hours watching all the Lockharts on the walls do their hair and smile while the real one talked my ear off!"
"I'm sorry for that," Albus apologized. "But I need to know—did Lockhart hear anything?"
"No," Dilys answered, still angry at last night. "Though personally, I don't think that he can hear anything but his own voice. But that's what Harry said; perhaps he ought to see the nurse?"
Across from her, Phineas snorted. "You are positively overwrought with worry anytime that boy suffers so much as a paper cut," the former headmaster said in a disdainful voice.
Dilys gave him a nasty look. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered in a would-be offhand voice.
"You don't remember coming in here at the start of term all upset because you and everyone else here couldn't find your precious Potter?" Phineas countered. "Dead annoying really. I'm surprised that none of you haven't gone and talk to him yourselves."
Dilys glared daggers at him. "You're lucky I'm over here!" she yelled.
"I could reach him for you!" Everard offered helpfully as he raised his own wand.
"Oh, I'm so scared," Phineas said sarcastically. "Please, you couldn't beat me in a duel even if I was blindfolded!"
"Why you—"
"Did Harry mention what the voice said?" Albus interrupted, breaking up the fight.
"I heard him say to his friends that it was something dark and about ripping and killing. He said that he heard it from inside the walls, but he wasn't very detailed when he described it, but he did sound unnerved."
"And you're sure that you didn't hear anything?" Albus pressed, more urgently now. "Anything at all?"
"Nothing aside from the normal drippy pipes in that part of the castle," she answered.
Albus considered this for a long time, but without any conclusions. He stood up and he took out his penseive so that he could add some thoughts to it, then swirled the contents of the basin around to see what it might turn up. No good—only a memory of Argus complaining about the plumbing when Moaning Myrtle flooded the first floor girls' bathroom last year.
Fawkes, watching over his shoulder, crooned weakly at him. Albus reached out and stroked his head—Fawkes had been looking ill lately—a burning day must be coming.
With a sigh, Albus turned back to Dilys. "Watch him closely. I don't think Harry's unstable, but hearing voices isn't a good sign. It often leads to danger." Albus stroked Fawkes ponderingly as he watched Dilys exit through the portraits lining the walls. He had a bad feeling about this.
*Halloween*
Albus was getting ready to go down to the Halloween feast when Phineas came into view and said, "Looks like Potter, Weasley, and Granger aren't going to the feast, just thought that you would like to know."
"Why is that?" Albus asked in surprise.
"Well, you want to know every single move that the boy makes," Phineas said annoyed as he sat back in his chair. "And you made me keep watch this week so I…"
"Not that," Albus said impatiently. "Why aren't they going to the feast?"
"Oh, something about being invited to that Gryffindor ghost's deathday party tonight. Why anyone would want to celebrate the day they died is beyond me."
Albus nodded. "Keep an eye on him for the evening, Phineas," he said to him. When he say that he was about to protest he said, "Do it tonight and you'll be off duty for the rest of the year, seeing how I've got nothing but complaints from you all week."
Phineas groaned, "Really Dumbledore. You think that the boy would be attacked around every corner the way you act."
"That's what you said that last year," Albus said. "And looked what happened! Trolls, dragons, and fighting Voldemort. Harry was nearly killed last year, and I do not wish to take any chances this year."
Phineas groaned again. "Fine. But just for tonight! Make someone else watch him. I find it so tiresome."
As he left for the feast, Albus had to fight a smile, a few of his other paintings were all telling Phineas off.
*Later*
The feast was amazing, the food was just as delicious as it always was, and the dancing skeletons that he hired for entertainment caused all the students to laugh and awe. He didn't know why… but every once in awhile he would turn his attention back to the Gryffindor table—and once the deserts were all disappearing, he couldn't help but feel worried. Hoping that he was just being paranoid, he sent his students off to bed, while he stretched and yawned, reading for sleep himself.
But as he walked into the Entrance Hall, he heard Phineas call out calmly to the whole school. "Oi! Dumbledore! You might want to head up to the second floor corridor!"
The students all turned up to him in confusion and surprise. "You won't believe this," Phineas yelled, not caring who heard him, and seemed to be doing his best to make sure that everyone did. "But there something written on the wall in what looks like blood…"
All the students stared at him before they all started heading to the second floor.
"Phineas," Albus called exasperated.
"You said to let you know if something happens?" Phineas said in mock confusion.
"Yes, but not to broadcast it to the whole school!"
Phineas shrugged. "Hmph, touché. You should be a little more specific."
Albus gave him a dark look before he too was running up the stairs with most of his staff right behind him. He knew that the only reason that Phineas told him in front of the whole school was because he wanted a good excuse to not have to follow Harry around again.
He would deal with Phineas later.
When he got to the second floor he heard Argus Filch yelling at the top of his lungs, "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris? You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll —"
Worried that his caretaker would do something drastic, he called, "Argus!"
He came into the hallway with his the other teachers… and then he stopped dead when he saw the sight before him. There was Argus's cat dangling from a torch by its tail like a stuffed animal, and there—written on the wall itself were the words:
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened
Enemies of the heir… beware.
Below the writing was Filch standing over Harry, Ron, and Hermione who were looking pale and scared. It took him a second to process all this before he snapped back into action. He swept passed them all, and removed the cat from the torch and said to Filch, "Come with me Argus. You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," he then added to the trio.
Lockhart stepped forward, with a grin on his face, "My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore, though he was dredging the moment that he would have to set foot in that office and listen to Lockhart go on and on about some amazing feat he'd done. But now was not the time to complain.
He made sure that all the students were heading back to their common rooms before he led everyone else upstairs—he looked back at Harry and his friends to see how they were acting about all this. He felt bad for their terrified expressions and a part of him felt that he should say something—but before he could, they reached Lockhart's office. As the door was pushed open, several pictures of the man were seen running out of their pictures with mud masks and hair rollers. He rolled his eyes.
Suppressing a sigh, he let Lockhart light some candles as he gently laid the frozen cat on the desk and examined her. He bent down low and began muttering all kinds of countercurses under his breath, trying to return her to normal, or at the very least, find out what was wrong. He barely noticed when Minerva was bending down to help, or Severus when he walked behind them in the dark and looking happy for some reason.
He tried all the common counterspells but still, the cat didn't return to normal. Lockhart really wasn't helping as he hovered around them and saying things like, "It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture — I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…"
'There's no such thing as the Transmogrifian Torture,' Albus thought incredibly; 'How thick is this guy?'
Filch started to sob, his face was turned away from his cat and was buried in his hands. Dumbledore felt sorry for him, but he pushed that aside while he continued to work. He pulled out his wand and started performing all kinds of restoration spells… but nothing happened.
"… I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, who was really testing Dumbledore's patience, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…"
Finally, Albus understood what was wrong and that this was out of his hands. He stood up and said as gently as he could to the upset caretaker, "She's not dead, Argus."
Lockhart shut up, something that gave him the greatest satisfaction. "Not dead?" repeated Argus as he looked up hands to stare at his cat. "But why's she all — all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been Petrified," he said.
"Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart.
'Sure he did,' Albus thought sardonically. 'And I'm a hippogriff.' But instead of sharing that thought out loud he truthfully said, "But how, I cannot say…"
'But if the Chamber of Secrets had indeed been opened again then…' but before his thoughts could go any further Filch yelled and pointed to Harry, "Ask him!"
Albus looked at Harry's worried face and said, "No second year could have done this. It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced —"
"He did it, he did it!" Filch yelled. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found — in my office — he knows I'm a — I'm a —" Filch's face was twisted as he spat out. "He knows I'm a Squib!"
'And what does that have to do with anything?' Albus thought. From what the portraits have reported, and from what he'd seen so far from Harry's personality, he certainly isn't prejudice about blood.
Harry's face turned red as he said loudly, "I never touched Mrs. Norris! And I don't even know what a Squib is."
"Rubbish!" snarled Filch at the boy. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"
Severus suddenly spoke, "If I might speak, Headmaster." Dumbledore turned to face him; Severus was so quiet that he had almost forgotten that he was even in the room. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time." Severus began to sneer in a way that only to plainly said that he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
The trio all said at the same time, "We were at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party!"
"There were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there—" Harry said.
Severus's sneer widen as he said, "But why not join the feast afterward? Why go up to that corridor?"
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry. Albus glanced from them back to Harry, as he tried to understand what happened.
"Because — because —" the boy began, Albus could see that he was struggling to come up with an excuse. He could see the different emotions in his eyes—Harry looked deeply troubled by something.
"Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," he finished.
"Without any supper? I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."
"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly and Albus almost smiled when Ron's stomach began to make noise.
Severus turned back to him and said in a hopeful tone, "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."
"Really, Severus," Minerva said immediately, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."
Albus felt the desire to laugh, but held back, knowing that it wasn't the best moment to do so. He knew that if there's one thing that Minerva loved more the rules, it was Quidditch.
But Albus did agree with Severus when he said that Harry wasn't being entirely truthful… he looked at Harry, who looked him in the eye. He used Legilimency to see what Harry was so scared to tell him. And what he saw worried him greatly. He saw that Harry truly didn't have anything to do with the attack, and that the real reason that they were in the corridor was because Harry heard that voice that only he could hear—just as Dilys said. The voice was going to kill someone and he followed it all the way to the scene of the crime. He could see that Harry wanted to tell him the truth, but he didn't think that they would believe him if he did.
Which wasn't true.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said softly. The trio looked immensely relieved, while Severus and Filch both looked livid.
"My cat has been Petrified!" Argus shrieked, almost crying again. "I want to see some punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," he assured him. "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 said, clearly not used to being ignored. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —"
'Nooo,' Albus thought, knowing that Lockhart was more likely to set something on fire or poison the cat.
"Excuse me," said Severus hissed and Albus relaxed, "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."
There was a brief silence before Albus said to the three that they were allowed to go. They nodded to him and quickly left the room only too gladly. He spent several more minutes reassuring Argus that Mrs. Norris was going to be alright and that the potion was going to be made as soon as possible before he and everyone else left the room.
"Headmaster," Severus said to him as they headed downstairs. "You do realize that Potter was refusing to tell us something?"
"I am aware of that," he answered.
"Then why let them go?" he demanded.
"Oh, I know that Harry didn't do anything," he said firmly. "He was just afraid of what he did have to tell me."
Severus opened his mouth to complain but he shook his head and let it go.
"I stand-by what I said before," Albus said. "No second-year could've done it. I truly don't believe that any one of the students is responsible for this. But who is… I honestly cannot say."
They were both silent as they went back to the second floor corridor and got a closer look at the wall. The words shining blood-red…
"Dumbledore…?" Severus asked him, and for the first time, he sounded concerned.
Albus looked at him gravely. "I don't want to believe it…" he said. "But… and I'm praying that this is doesn't happen… unless something worse happens… I can't be hundred percent sure that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."
