AN: You guys are awesome! I can't believe the response this fic has gotten. Thanks to all of you who have favorited or followed ME when this is the only story I have. Thanks to the 260 favorites and 485 followers. Super special thanks to reviewers Narcissa-Weasly, Atticus Goodfellow, thunder18, deathy-cool, slicerness, femalefarrier, Kairan1979, Publicola, PurpleBullet, Cateagle, akasanta, Yana5, Majerus, phoebe turner, SomeGuyFawkes, wolfish-willow, lilmisdiva, serenityselena, Strumwulf, serialkeller, mwinter1, A Lady of Time, Katzztar, Lightningblade49, Deadzepplin, MariusDarkwolf, JannaKalderash, Wonderbee31, Kine X, and red-jacobson. I *should* have another chaper up sometime tomorrow, so cross your fingers.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.
Harry was sort of thankful to Dudley right about now. I mean, yeah he wasn't the greatest cousin out there, but he taught me how to run like my life depended on it. It was a skill that came in handy when you had to run to your Headmaster before he left school forever. Not that Harry would likely have this opportunity again.
"Pumpkin pasties," he gasped to the gargoyles, recalling what McGonagall had said.
"Er, chocolate frogs," he guessed.
"Uh, Mars bars?" he tried again. He then just tried every candy he could think of, getting impatient.
"I need to see Dumbledore!" He shouted.
The stone gargoyles moved slowly apart and he squeezed past them and raced up the steps. He frantically pounded on the door.
"Enter," a voice called.
"Professor Dumbledore! You can't-" He stopped dead upon seeing all of the missing objects. "What are you doing?"
"I am packing up, my dear boy. I shall be leaving very early tomorrow morning. You will not see me at breakfast," He said simply, not looking at Harry.
"Why so soon?" Harry asked, uncomprehending.
"I feel it is best if I leave before I inflict any serious damage upon Hogwarts. She is a beautiful school, one that does not deserve everything that has happened to her. I wouldn't wish to ruin her."
"But-but, what about Tom Riddle?"
"What about him? The diary has been properly taken care of. Rest assured, he shall not be coming back for at least a little while. I will always be available by owl for Professor McGonagall to ask for advice. Listen Harry, I am not the only one capable of getting rid of Tom Riddle. You must remember, there is one thing he has never possessed, and that is love."
Harry nodded slowly, pretending to understand. The office just looked so empty. All of the strange silver instruments were gone. What were they for? How did he get them? Were they really his? Did he actually use them? And why did you need more than one lunar calendar or diagram of the solar system? There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but none of them were important.
"Will I ever see you again?"
Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses at Harry. "I imagine you will. However for now, I believe it is goodbye, Harry Potter."
Harry just nodded noiselessly and calmly went down the stairs. His hands shook, but his gait was steady as he left. But as he turned to move out of the hallway, he paused.
"Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore."
"How can you do this?" McGonagall was furious. Oliver wondered if there was any way he could get out of a punishment.
"The first fight I may have been able to sweep under the rug, but the second one? It occurred right in front of Professor Flitwick!"
"But they were talking about us, about Gryffindor. You always said to have more house pride," Oliver protested.
"I know boys. And I want to help you, truly, I do. But I have a duty to the whole school now, not just one house." She looked away.
"Why is Dumbledore retiring?" Percy asked.
"Did you not listen to his speech, Weasley?" McGonagall snapped.
"I did," He replied. "But I think you know something more."
"I would tread carefully now, both of you. I am not at liberty to discuss the Headmaster's private business."
"But he's not Headmaster anymore," Oliver pointed out, quickly catching on. "So why can't you tell us what it is?"
McGonagall didn't reply. Instead, she moved to the window of the empty classroom they were sitting in. "I will do my best to soften the punishment, but there is only so far I can go before it is considered favoritism. I will not be able to keep protecting you."
"But you don't have to take this job," Oliver pleaded.
"Yes I do. What choice do I have? If I don't take the position, then the Board of Governors gets to decide. Lucius Malfoy will bribe and blackmail each and every last one of them so that Severus Snape is unanimously voted Headmaster of Hogwarts!" She threw her hands in the air and paced back and forth.
"I will give you a dedicated Head of House," she promised. "But one thing I cannot do is continue to favor Gryffindor House. I'm sorry, but I'm certain you understand." She said officiously
Percy and Oliver stood to leave.
"And boys? There is still the matter of the Gryffindor prefect."
Ten minutes later and Severus Snape had never felt worse.
"Snape, I would like to speak with you," McGonagall said tightly.
He moved aside, arms crossed. "I can't possibly imagine what this is about."
"Severus, I would like to settle this peacefully."
"You always say that," he muttered sardonically. "And yet, I never like you anymore."
"Be that as it may, I figured that we should try and act civil due to my new, er, place in the castle." She attempted to smile at him, but it turned into a grimace.
"Like you won't have obvious favorites," he accused.
"You're one to talk!" She retorted.
He tried to interrupt. "I have not-"
"Now you listen to me, Severus Snape!" She roared.
He fell silent.
"I know everything – that's right, everything! That you've been doing. Did you think I was oblivious to the how and the why that Slytherin House won the cup so many years in a row? It certainly wasn't good behavior! You've been holding a grudge for years, and I don't know if I want to employ a man like that."
He froze and stared at her.
"You are no longer Head of House. You also have lost the authority to take points or hand out punishments until I say otherwise. You have one chance left. And when I say one, I mean one. You're on thin ice. I would be very careful from now on, if I were you." She rose from the chair.
He covered his face with his hands. What was he to do?
"Oh, and Severus?" He glanced up. "If I so much as see you look at Katie Bell differently, you'll be placed on an indefinite, unpaid leave of absence."
He exhaled and nodded. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Severus Snape dove for the Daily Prophet and began thumbing through the Classifieds.
Cormac McLaggen thought himself a pretty swell guy. He got good grades, was an excellent Quidditch player, had loads of friends, and he was devilishly handsome. What girl wouldn't want him?
Katie Bell, that's who, he answered himself sourly. He had been trying to catch the chaser's eye for a while, thinking her pretty and talented, but she hadn't so much as glanced his way. But oh well, he thought. He had a plan. In his fifth year, when Wood was finally off the team, Cormac would try out for keeper. He would get it, of course, because with Wood gone, Cormac's skills would be unmatched.
Once he was on the team, he would have a chance to get closer to Katie. He could complain about their upcoming O.W.L.s, and she would giggle and agree with him. He'd slide in a few compliments ("You're sure to do great Katie, you're so smart." "You're the best chaser on the team, Katie!") and she'd blush. He'd set up a "study" date in March, to study for O.W.L.s. She'd be impressed with his work ethic. After two or three bouts of studying, he'd ask her to Hogsmeade, she'd say yes, and then they'd live happily ever after.
He was just planning the exact wording of the date when he heard something. A whimper, maybe? He followed the sound and came across a girl huddled in a corner of the castle, and unless he was mistaken, she was crying.
Now, Cormac wasn't exactly an expert at feelings. Girls liked to talk about them; he had heard his sister and her friends whispering often enough. Wait a minute, that meant Katie would probably like to talk about them. What would he do? What would he say? He could lie, yes, but lying to Katie felt wrong. I know, he thought. I can practice talking about feelings with this girl. He wouldn't lie to her, or take advantage of her, because Katie didn't like guys who did either. He would just learn what do do, be nice, and leave.
"Hello?" He called out to the girl.
She sniffled.
"Hey, are you alright?" He asked. "I-wait, Katie? What's the matter?"
"Cormac?" She gasped, hurrying to stand up. "I was just, um, thinking for a bit," she said wiping her sleeve over her eyes.
"Right. Look, is this about Snape? Because he's wrong," Cormac blurted. "I mean, everyone likes you. He's just upset because he doesn't have any friends," He joked.
Katie let out a watery giggle.
Cormac, spurred by her laugh, ploughed on. "I mean, who would like him? Probably not even the Slytherins, because they're so obsessive about their hair."
She giggled some more, starting to look more like herself.
"I hope McGonagall sacks him," Cormac spat venomously.
"Why would she do that?" Katie asked.
"That's right, you weren't at dinner," Cormac realized.
"You noticed."
"Er, yeah," He rubbed the back of his neck. "But anyway," Cormac quickly changed the subject. "Dumbledore made this huge announcement at dinner about how he's getting too old for this job, and so he's going to retire from Headmaster, and now McGonagall's in charge.
"No!" She exclaimed. "Dumbledore can't leave the school. It wouldn't be safe then."
Cormac shrugged and leaned against a wall.
"And now McGonagall's Headmistress. Who's going to be Head of Gryffindor?" Katie wondered.
"Dunno. Maybe Hooch?" Cormac suggested.
"No. Hooch was a Ravenclaw," Katie said absentmindedly.
"Oh. You'd know since you're on the Quidditch team," Cormac said, seeming downtrodden.
"Yeah, I am. Do you play?"
"Keeper," Cormac muttered.
"Oh cool. Y'know, Oliver's gonna graduate year after this. You could try out for the team?"
"I was planning to," He grinned.
"Oh wow! We could be on the team together!"
Cormac nodded goofily. His mind just omitted the part where she mentioned the team. We could be together.
"I'll walk you back to the Common Room, then?" He offered cheerfully.
She beamed up at him and they began heading towards the portrait hole.
Who knew that talking about feelings with Katie Bell just meant making her laugh, he mused.
"Alright team," Oliver announced. They sat on the stands, all looking up at him with apprehension. He tried not to show his sweaty palms. "I know that the Slytherins have their new, fancy brooms, and that the future looks pretty bleak. I mean, let's face it: we're all operating on slower brooms right now. It's not a level playing field. But let's try and look at it as players, not as brooms."
"We have Harry Potter, the boy who caught a Remembrall from 200 feet in the air, versus Draco Malfoy, the boy who had to buy his way on the team. We've got Fred and George Weasley, a pair of beaters who can always predict the other, going up against two buffoons that don't even know each other's first names. There's a triple threat team of chasers, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. They could hit a target a mile away, and their opponents can't tell what color the Quaffle is when it's right in front of their faces."
"Don't forget yourself, Ollie," The twins chorused.
"You're one of the best keepers we've ever had," Katie said passionately.
"There's no way you can't get drafted right out of school," Harry said.
Oliver flushed. "Well, anyone looks good compared to Warrington. But that's not my point. The point is, Slytherin Quidditch players aren't chosen for their skill, they're chose based on how much influence they have and how intimidating they can be. But we're Gryffindors. We won't let ourselves be afraid of them."
"Great brooms don't make great players. In the great match of '79, Puddlemere United couldn't afford top of the line brooms, but they crushed the Ballycastle Bats 340-30. The Bats had just gotten brand new Nimbus 500's. And the Chudley Cannons buy brooms as soon as they come out, but they haven't won a game since '54. Y'know why? Because the equipment doesn't guarantee anything. All it does is make you feel better and the other team feel worse. But if we refuse to feel worse, and we play like we always do, we'll win. So let's go out there, do our best, and show those slimy snakes that we're a better team than they could ever hope to be."
The team cheered and began practice with an energy that Oliver had never seen. I did that, he thought with a rush of happiness. Because Oliver Wood didn't just play Quidditch. He made some pretty damn good impromptu speeches, too.
True to his word, Professor Dumbledore wasn't at breakfast that morning. Professor McGonagall had originally sat in her usual seat, but when Professor Sinistra walked into the Great Hall she nudged McGonagall. McGonagall moved into the Head seat, with Sinistra sitting to her direct right. Snape looked particularly unhappy.
All around Harry, conversations arose.
"What do you think happened?"
"Why did he leave?"
"Will we still be safe?"
"But everyone," a small Hufflepuff first year piped up. "Couldn't Harry Potter protect us?"
Harry Potter was actually a bit busy choking on his pumpkin juice as all eyes turned to him. He nervously coughed and tugged down on the hair above his scar.
Before he knew it, he was surrounded by students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, as the Slytherins looked on disdainfully.
"Harry, come on mate! We're friends, right?"
"You wouldn't leave us to die, would you?"
But just as Harry began to think that he might be flattened by the others, he got some unexpected help. One by one, the Gryffindors stood and began to huddle around Harry, forming a barrier between him and the overzealous children.
"Harry doesn't have to help you!" Seamus defended him.
"Quit pressuring him!" Angelina snapped.
"Leave him alone!" Demelza Robbins shouted.
Even people Harry didn't even know defended him. The warm feeling he had that day at the Burrow had returned, bigger and brighter than before. Harry had never been more glad to be a Gryffindor.
"If St. Potty's our savior, we'll be dead within a week," Malfoy jeered. However, the blonde boy had made the mistake of coming over without his bodyguards. Oliver left the group and loomed over Malfoy. The second year quivered.
"Harry would never protect anyone as cowardly as you," He growled. Malfoy turned to leave, but Oliver grabbed the collar of this shirt and lifted the smaller boy off the ground. "And you can tell your captain that he's gonna wanna die after the game, fancy brooms or not."
"Alright, that is enough!" McGonagall yelled over all the chatter in the Hall. "Everyone sit down!"
The students just glanced at her and resumed their conversations.
"Now!" All that could be heard were frantic footsteps.
"Much better," McGonagall said as they all settled back down. "As you are all aware, Mr. Dumbledore has resigned from his position as Headmaster and has left me as Headmistress. I have made a few changes to the staff. First off, the position of Deputy Headmistress shall be filled by Professor Sinistra. The new Head of Gryffindor House is Muggle Studies Professor Burbage. Professor Snape will no longer be Head of Slytherin House. Instead, that shall be Arithmancy Professor Vector. Until I can find a suitable replacement, I will continue to teach Transfiguration. Thank you for your cooperation. That is all."
All four houses were unhappy with these recent developments.
"Why couldn't Sprout be deputy?" Hannah Abbott complained.
"Flitwick was the obvious choice," Cho Chang snorted.
"Why can't Snape be head of house anymore?" Pansy asked.
"I dunno. Makes sense those Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers get Burbage though," Malfoy sniggered.
All of the Gryffindors were duly unimpressed with Professor Burbage. A blonde, thin, muggle-obsessed woman was just fine by them. But when that woman was too afraid to even look most of them in the eye…well, suffice to say, that wasn't really what they had wanted.
"Er, hello," Burbage said cautiously, approaching the House table with obvious fear. She received a few muttered greetings in return.
"Bet she'll love the filthy Mudbloods," a rather dumb Slytherin stage-whispered.
"What did you just say?" snarled Burbage as she spun around to fix the student with her evil eye. The Slytherin gulped. "That'll be twenty points from Slytherin, and be happy it's not more."
Did I say the Gryffindors were unhappy? They weren't, not at all. The Slytherins were no longer able to hide behind Snape, and they had a pretty awesome head of house. Life was good.
Harry still felt this way in Snape's class. It seemed that the Potions Master had been given a talking to about his favoritism, for he treated the Slytherins and the Gryffindors as though he held no feelings for either side.
"Chop those roots more finely, Davis."
"Stir it counterclockwise, Thomas."
Neville was oddly happy as he worked, finally relaxed. His potion turned the precise shad of grass green the book described, and the round-faced boy bottled it and sat proudly as Snape stopped.
The greasy-haired man picked up the vial and sniffed it, shook it, and gave it a look that could curdle milk, but nothing phased the perfect potion.
"Good job, Longbottom," He choked out, face turning a rather disturbing reddish-purple. "And wipe that stupid smirk off your face, Potter," He added angrily.
Harry tried to force his lips downward, but it didn't work. Ron kicked him under the table. Harry managed to reduce his smile to just a slight upturn of the lips.
"You did great, Neville," Harry said enthusiastically once they were out of class.
"Thanks Harry. I think it was just because I was so nervous before. I might actually do well in Potions this year. And this weekend, Gran is taking me to Diagon Alley to get a new wand," Neville grinned excitedly.
Ron frowned.
"That's great, but what are you gonna do in Astronomy? You've got Potion under control, you're amazing at Herbology, History of Magic doesn't really matter, the wand will help with practical classes…" Harry trailed off.
As Neville drooped, Ron brightened.
Harry wondered if there was any way to keep both of them happy.
Hermione loved everything about books, but she loved the ones that had authors with weird names the most. They were the best writers, ones who had gotten picked on for being strange and who had retreated to books for comfort. Years later, the strange ones would decide to leave their mark on the world, to show their old tormentors that were something to be found in books after all. Because really, where would the books be if people didn't write them?
Hermione's favorite book was, of course, Hogwarts a History. It told her all about the wonderful school where her life changed. But if there was one thing she had learned, it was that not everything was in Hogwarts A History. The book was an authorized guide; the school had chosen exactly what was put in and what was taken out. So, in order to get the whole story, Hermione had bought the unauthorized guide, and was reading it in the library
Already she had become incensed by the idea that house-elves worked for Hogwarts, and had read about the dark past of the Gray Lady and the Bloody Baron. Now she was trying to dig up something on Slytherin House. She was just about to declare the book a dead end when she saw more words. She pushed the book down to get closer and the words disappeared. Curious, she tilted the pages up to catch the light.
"In 1943, the Chamber of Secrets was opened. It is said that Salazar Slytherin himself created the Chamber underneath school to house a monster. Supposedly, the monster was meant to purge the school of all those who he believed unworthy to possess magic."
Hermione gasped and then smiled innocently at a passing fourth year. He glanced at her as if crazy was catching.
"Though Slytherin's monster has never been found, it tragically killed a student, Myrtle Henderson, in a girl's bathroom. Tom Riddle, a Slytherin prefect, found out that Rubeus Hagrid, a third year Gryffindor, was the one to open the chamber and release the monster. Hagrid was promptly expelled from Hogwarts."
"Oh my god!" she shrieked. All eyes turned to the typically rule-abiding girl. The girl in question flashed them a smile, gathered up her books, and walked as quickly as she could out the door. She began running when she turned the corner, only to hit something.
"Ow!" The other girl exclaimed.
"Sorry!" Hermione apologized quickly, aching to keep going.
"Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you Hermione Granger?" the girl asked.
"Um, yes," Hermione replied hesitantly.
"I'm Penelope Clearwater, Ravenclaw prefect. Is it true that Percy's a prefect again?" She inquired.
"I think so, yeah."
"Great! Could you maybe take this letter to him, quick as you can?"
"Uh, sure," Hermione cautiously took the parchment from Penelope.
The two girls stood awkwardly for a moment, waiting for the other.
"Well, bye!" Hermione said as she dashed off in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room. She practically shouted the password at the Fat Lady and bounded through the portrait hole. The usual group was seated by the fireplace, all looking incredibly worried about something.
"Hermione!" The twins yelled, almost taking her to the ground.
"Where were you?" Alicia asked.
"What do you mean?"
"We were going to meet up half an hour ago," Harry explained, emerald eyes shining.
"Oh, that's right! I must have forgotten. Percy, some girl named Penelope Clearwater wanted me to give this to you," She said, handing over the note to him.
"Penelope Clearwater?" Oliver asked. "The same Penelope Clearwater that stares at you all the time and was crushed when she lost her prefect patrol buddy?"
Percy turned red.
"Listen, you guys. I have some big news. Have any of you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets or Slytherin's monster?"
"It's supposed to be a legend," Percy frowned.
"Right, well, I ordered something over the summer for a little extra reading, but I only just got it," She said, extracting the book from her bag.
"Bloody hell," Ron whispered.
Hermione ignored him. "Here's the thing. Normally, I wouldn't really think much of it, but it mentions both Tom Riddle and Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" Angelina repeated quizzically.
"Now it says that Hagrid opened the Chamber and unleashed Slytherin's monster, and Tom Riddle is the prefect who figured it all out. But can any of you actually see Hagrid doing that?"
"He told me he'd been expelled from school, but he didn't say for what," Harry mentioned.
"So you think Tom Riddle framed Hagrid?" Oliver asked skeptically. "Why would he do that?"
"Because Slytherin's monster killed a girl named Myrtle Henderson. And I'm willing to bet-"
"Moaning Myrtle," Alicia interrupted with a gasp.
"But what is Slytherin's monster?" Ron asked, frustrated.
"No one knows. Slytherin had it to get rid of everyone he thought was unworthy of attending Hogwarts, and he built the chamber to house the monster," Hermione told them.
"What are we gonna do about it?" Lee asked.
Everyone thought for a moment.
"We have to clear Hagrid's name," Neville spoke up.
Ron jumped. "Merlin, mate, you always surprise me. I never even know you're there."
"Neville's right," Harry said decisively. "Hagrid needs to be cleared. He deserves it."
"The only question is," Percy broke in. "How are we going to do that?"
Two shadowy figures carefully shut a portrait behind them. They were out past curfew, but neither one was worried. They had a few secret weapons, you see. One pulled out his wand and the other unfolded a bit of parchment.
"I solemnly-" The second one began, but the portrait they had just emerged from opened again. Quickly, the first spun around, wand at the ready as the second hid the parchment.
"Honestly, you think we don't know about your little late night escapades?" Angelina huffed.
"It's not as though you keep it quiet," Alicia added.
"Lee!" Fred and George hissed. "What ever happened to standing guard?"
"What?" He asked incredulously. "It's just them."
"It's not like we'll tell," Angelina snapped.
"That's not the point! We have secrets we'd rather no one know!"
"We're coming with," Angelina demanded.
"You can't!" The twins insisted.
"Oh really? Then where do you suggest we go?" Alicia challenged, arching one eyebrow.
"Back in the-" Fred turned.
The portrait was empty.
"Great," George grumbled.