Chapter 18:
Not a Walk in the Park
By Jelsemium
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, alas.
Hogwarts in the summer was eerie. Even more so than the Christmas holidays.
Harry wished that Ron, Ginny and Hermione were there to keep him company. Or Neville, Seamus, Dean. He'd have even been happy to see Lavender or Parvati.
But there was no one to talk to. All the students and teachers gone, and the generally helpful portraits were gadding about, visiting descendents or going on museum tours.
Even the ghosts were nowhere to be found. Peeves was in a particularly foul mood and the poltergeist seemed intent on making the other ghosts suffer.
This resulted in a definite scarcity of ectoplasmic companions. Harry truly regretted that as he would have liked to have talked to Nearly Headless Nick.
Unfortunately, the only ghost he saw were Bloody Baron and Professor Binns, both of whom he avoided.
He found out the hard way, though, that neither Blacks nor Binns nor Bloody Barons were the worst things he could come across during the summer.
Hogwarts liked to stretch its wings. It also liked to bend its corridors, flex its staircases, redecorate its walls and rearrange its rooms.
Harry hadn't become lost so many times since his first year.
One day, the corridor that used to lead to the fruit picture that concealed the secret passage to the kitchens suddenly ended in a cul-de-sac formed by the intersection of two barrel arches. Under the crossed arches, there was a statue set in a recess in the wall.
Deciding he might as well get something out of this unexpected detour, as well as needing to satisfy his curiosity, Harry moved up to take a closer look.
The statue was of a homely, bearded man who apparently had foot problems. He was seated on a trunk, one ankle crossed over his knee and he was massaging the sole of that foot.
The plaque under the statue read: "St. Peder Estrian of the Fallen Arches."
Sirius' voice came from behind him. "Hey!"
Harry whirled around, a response that he later credited with saving his life.
"Get out of there!" Sirius roared.
Harry started to move forward when he saw motion out of the corner of his eye. In a twinkling, he transformed into Abyssinian cat form and sprang forward.
The gust of wind generated by the collapsing walls blew Harry into Sirius' arms with enough force to knock the older wizard sprawling to the floor.
Harry flinched at the horrendous crash behind him.
"When they say 'fallen arches,'" Sirius said archly. "They mean it."
Harry made a face. "Right."
"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded.
"I wanted to go to the kitchens," Harry said defensively.
"WHY?" Sirius demanded. "You have plenty of food in the hospital wing!"
"The operative phrase here being ' in the hospital wing'," Harry said dryly.
"Oh," Sirius said. "Next time, bring someone with you."
Harry watched as the arches slowly pushed themselves back into place, like an arthritic old man getting up after tripping. "Might be a good idea at that," he said. "Fallen arches can be murder."