CHAPTER 14: HOGWARTS CHAINSAW MASSACRE
America slipped the hockey mask over his face. It fit like a glove. It was times like this he was glad he had a twin with almost the exact same measurements as him. It was kinda awkward having to put it on over his glasses, though. And his cowlick was struggling against its confinement. Damn it, Texas and Nantucket! Stop making things difficult for me!
"Umm… are you sure this is a good idea?" Colin Creevey asked, clutching his camera and looking extremely nervous. He was Muggle-born, so he knew exactly what a chainsaw was, and had possibly snuck into a theatre to see one of the Friday the 13th movies or something.
America lifted up the hockey mask to give Colin an encouraging grin. "Yup! It's not mine, but it's an awesome idea! Erin always has really cool ideas for pranks. Don't worry, little dude, I'm doing most of the work. Just make sure to take pictures!" He lowered the mask again and hefted the chainsaw from the desk it was resting on. "All right, let's go!" America went over to the window, opened it, and jumped out. They were in an empty classroom on the first floor (man, Hogwarts sure seemed to have a lot of unused classrooms, didn't it?), so he fell barely five feet. Colin quickly followed, though he stayed a ways back as America charged along, head ducked, occasionally peeking up through the windows to locate his prey.
It seemed that he'd gotten unbelievably lucky. Draco Malfoy was walking through an abandoned corridor, all alone. Bingo. America leaned down, grabbed some pebbles, and threw them against the window. He stayed out of sight, so he didn't know exactly what Malfoy's reaction was. It was kind of difficult to hear through the castle walls, but America thought he heard a pause in the footsteps. America grabbed some more pebbles and threw them again. Yes, now he could hear the approaching footsteps. One good thing about pureblood wizards, it seemed, was that they had never seen a horror movie before. Because, really, anyone who had seen any horror movie ever knew enough about the genre not to approach a noise at a window, alone, on Halloween night.
Malfoy opened the window and leaned out. That was all America needed. He grabbed the Slytherin and dragged him outside. Malfoy let out an incredibly satisfying scream before landing face-first on the ground. America took the opportunity to start up the chainsaw. It took a couple of tries, but finally it began making that oh-so-sweet, eardrum-bursting noise. Malfoy turned over onto his back, took in the spectre before him, and started hurriedly doing that mixture of sitting and crab-walking America couldn't remember the name of away from him. America grinned beneath the hockey mask and started advancing. Malfoy couldn't see the grin, but even he seemed to realize that an advancing person with what was obviously a weapon was a bad thing. He stumbled to his feet and started running, not even screaming. He seemed focused on using his breath to pump his legs faster. America was a bit disappointed, to be honest. Ah, well. He started running after him, chainsaw held at the ready.
America ended up chasing Malfoy all over the grounds. It was never his intention to catch him, of course. He always made sure that his pace was fast enough to give Malfoy that feeling of urgency, but not so fast that he actually caught up to him. Eventually Malfoy made his way back to the Entrance Hall, and America knew that there was no way he'd get away with this if he actually went inside the castle. So, as soon as Malfoy went into the sightline of anyone looking out the windows, America veered away and ran his actual fastest towards the empty classroom he'd come out of.
America found Colin already there. He took off the hockey mask, brushing his hair out of his eyes and adjusting his glasses. "Did you get any good ones?"
Colin nodded. "Uh-huh. Um… do you think you might have gone a bit too far?"
America waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, please, I could have gone way farther without feeling I'd gone too far. C'mon, let's go on in. I can't wait to tell my friends about this." He gave Colin a leg-up through the window, passed him the turned-off chainsaw (which he handled with extreme care), and climbed through himself. He opened the door and poked his head out to make sure nobody was around, then grabbed the chainsaw from Colin and his both it and the hockey mask in a secret passageway behind a rather nondescript tapestry. He'd discovered that particular passage when he was hiding from Peeves – er, preparing to fight a ghostly menace that had left before he could heroically defeat it. Now, as long as Colin, Canada, Harry, Ron or Hermione didn't blab, nobody should be able to tell it was him. If Malfoy felt brave enough to tell anyone about what had happened, anyway.
He and Colin started making their way back to Gryffindor tower. They were hardly the only ones, since they soon encountered the crowd of students making their way back from the feast. The two Gryffindors seamlessly integrated themselves. Colin went off to meet up with some of his first-year friends, while America looked around for Canada or his friends. Then he remembered that they'd all gone to that ghost party. He tried his best not to visibly shudder. He failed.
He had ended up elbowing and shouldering his way to the front of the crowd. That meant that he was one of the first to enter that second-floor corridor that held a nasty surprise. The noise died away instantly and everyone else froze, for some reason. America wasn't sure why. He just saw Canada, Harry, Ron and Hermione all standing in the center of the corridor, looking almost fearful. "HEY, DUDES!" America waved and started walking over to them. "You will not BELIEVE what I just-" His eyes fell on the frozen cat and the message on the wall.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE
"Oh." America coughed into his hand. "Well, this is kinda awkward."
Then someone else shouted. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Of course it was Draco Malfoy. He was looking way too happy about this.
America yelled back, "OH, SHUT IT, MALFOY!"
"What's going on here? What's going on?" Well, great. Argus Filch was now shouldering his way through the crowd. The moment he saw Mrs. Norris he fell back, clutching his face in horror. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked. And then his popping eyes fell on Harry. "You!" he screeched. Really, he was sounding like a Banshee. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll-" Wow, he is really attached to that cat, isn't he?
"Argus!" Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, along with what seemed like most of the Hogwarts faculty. By the time America managed to register how the otherwise rather badass scene was somewhat ruined by the fact everyone was wearing dresses, Dumbledore had swept past them all and was removed the cat from the torch-holder-thingy. "Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You four as well," he added, looking at Canada, Harry, Ron and Hermione.
"Yo, dude, can I come along?" America asked, almost bouncing with excitement. "C'mon, please? Please? Please? C'mon, you know you want to!"
Dumbledore gave him a weird look and said, "Very well, Mr. Jones, if you insist." Everyone else was looking at him strangely as well. What? What was so weird about wanting to go with his brother and friends as they possibly got blamed for murdering a cat? It was an adventure waiting to happen!
Glinda the Sparkly Wizard decided to step in. "My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free-"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore. Suddenly America wasn't feeling so excited. But he was set in his course, and there was no way he was abandoning his friends now. The crowded students parted before them like the Red Sea and watched as they all made their way towards Glinda's office. When they arrived, America sniggered. All of the pictures of Glinda hanging up on the walls were ducking out of sight in order to hide the fact that their hair was in curlers.
The real Glinda did no such thing, sadly, simply lighting the candles on his desk and rambling on about how of course he knew what had happened to Mrs. Norris, such a shame, if only he'd been there to stop whatever fiend had done this to her, if only… Dumbledore, meanwhile, placed the cat on the desk and began examining her. This examination involved looking very closely at her and poking and prodding her with his fingers. America felt a bit disappointed. He'd been expecting magic, strange incantations, runes drawn on the floor, something other than how a morbid five-year-old would probably react to finding a dead cat.
Professor McGonagall and the bat-dude were the only other teachers who had accompanied them. McGonagall was leaning down to look at Mrs. Norris right next to Dumbledore, while Snape was looming in the shadows trying not to smile. Filch, meanwhile, was slumped in a chair by the desk, crying his eyes out. America felt a bit guilty just looking at him, even though he'd had absolutely nothing to do with whatever had happened to Mrs. Norris. He hated the guy, but… well… he looked so sad. Then he reminded himself that if Filch had his way, Canada, Harry, Ron and Hermione would probably be expelled. That squashed most of his sympathy.
Finally, Dumbledore took a step up in the whole examination thing by poking Mrs. Norris with his wand and muttering strange incantations under his breath. Yes, now that was more like it! Sadly, while slightly more impressive, it seemed to accomplish nothing. Mrs. Norris remained frozen in an uncomfortable-looking position. Glinda's ramblings continued, but America tuned them out. It wasn't as if they contained any useful information whatsoever.
At last Dumbledore straightened up. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly. Rats. I was looking forward to not having to deal with her. Glinda stopped his boasting abruptly and stared at Dumbledore, the cogs in his brain switching gears almost audibly.
"Not dead?" choked Filch. "But why's she all – all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore. The way he said it, there was no doubt that it was petrified with a capital P. Glinda said something in the background. America ignored it and listened to Dumbledore instead. "But how, I cannot say…"
"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, going back into Banshee territory. He pointed a quivering finger at Harry. Dumbledore tried to reassure him that, no, no twelve year old could have done Dark Magic this advanced. Filch didn't listen, and started going on about how he was a squid. America was feeling really confused. Harry was, as well. Filch didn't look like a squid. He didn't have nearly enough tentacles.
At this point the bat-dude decided to stop looming in silence. "If I might speak, Headmaster." America exchanged glances with the others. The generally consensus was Aw, crap. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the Halloween feast?"
Canada, Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the Deathday Party. America stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming, not wanting to listen to the description of hundreds of ghosts being in the same castle as him. Once he saw Snape's mouth start moving he felt it was safe to start listening again. "But why not join the feast afterwards? Why go up to that corridor?"
The Deathday party attendees all looked at each other. Wait, now that he brings it up, what were they doing in that corridor? Canada softly cleared his throat and stepped forward. "I can explain that, eh." The teachers all jumped in surprise. They probably hadn't realized the quiet Hufflepuff was there. Canada continued, "A lot of the ghosts at the party didn't seem to realize I was there and kept walking through me. I wasn't feeling very well, so my friends decided to leave early to take me back to the Hufflepuff common room. They… didn't know where it was, and I was too tired to give them directions, so we ended up wandering around and ended up in that corridor, eh." Now that he mentioned it, Canada was looking rather pale and exhausted. I still get the feeling that he isn't telling the whole truth… Since when did Canada get so good at lying?
The teachers seemed to accept this explanation. "I see," said Dumbledore. "You should probably have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you." He turned to America. "Mr. Jones, would you please escort your brother to the hospital wing?"
America sighed. "Oh, fine, I guess." He wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, but he was sure the others would tell him later. He grabbed Canada's arm. "C'mon, bro, let's go."
As soon as they were out of earshot, America said, "Okay, bro, what was the real reason you were in that corridor?"
Canada smiled at him. "You know me so well, eh." He began telling the story of how Harry had started yelling about hearing a voice that was about to kill someone. It didn't take too long.
"So it was that cold-venom voice again? Did he have any idea where it was coming from?"
Canada shrugged. "He didn't say. We were so busy running, we didn't have much time to talk. And then when we stopped we were distracted by Mrs. Norris, and then everyone showed up, and you were there for the rest."
America sighed. "I guess I'll have to ask Harry tomorrow. Why is it that whenever something strange happens at this school, he always seems to get involved?"
"What, are you complaining?" Canada asked jokingly.
"No way, dude! So long as we're friends with him, we'll always have an adventure!" America remembered something. "Hey, have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?"
"I might have read about it at some point, eh…"
"Dude, stop doing so much reading. D'you think this is what Iggy was talking about when he asked us to look out for Harry?"
"Possibly… he couldn't have known exactly what it was, otherwise he would have told us. Oh, we should probably write to him about this, shouldn't we?"
America shook his head. "No way, I am not being the messenger he shoots for that. You write to him. I'll be busy writing back Patrick and Erin."
They arrived at the hospital wing. They opened the door and Madam Pomfrey came bustling over to see what was happening. Her eyes widened as soon as they landed on Canada and she pulled him over to a bed, asking what had happened. As Canada struggled to get a word in and his bear jumped up onto the bed and curled up for a nap, America waved. "See ya later, bro!" And then he went off to bed.
A/N: Okay, I'm sorry, I lied last chapter. I didn't reach the part where America actually wrote any letters. HERE HAVE HUGS INSTEAD! \(^-^)/ I'll have it happen next chapter, okay? Anyways, Q&A! To... oh boy... YOYOYOYOYOYOYOYO (sorry, your name is hard to spell): Yep, I've seen Paint It: White. I didn't know as much about Hetalia back then as I do now, but I've seen it. For your second question, Kumajiro, I guess? I dunno. To The Legend of Zelda Fangirl: ... ARE YOU A MIND READER? THAT IS PRETTY MUCH EXACTLY WHAT I WAS PLANNING! To Miss Booty Shorts Phantomhive: Um... I'm glad you like my Canada so much? That's just the tiniest bit creepy. But, yeah, I agree, basically every time Canada shows up in a strip I just want to give the poor guy a hug. Iggy should be showing up soon enough. I can't promise anything, but I think France will end up worse for wear. Also, OMG GUYS OVER A HUNDRED REVIEWS WHAAAAAAT! Thank you all for being so wonderful. NEXT CHAPTER: What I promised last chapter, sorry about that. See you all next time!