Sunday special! I'm going to be really busy this week so thought I'd post today rather than wait until Wednesday and then forget. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter (a bit of research went behind it to help find causes of petrification). Read and review if you can :)
Despite Dumbledore's assurance that all would be explained, now several days following the incident, he still had not yet spoken to Minerva about his theories. The only thing that was stopping her from marching up to his office right now was down to the simple fact that he was currently away meeting an expert who could possibly shed some light on the matter. Of course, he had not shared what type of expert - for Albus Dumbledore this would be much too revealing. However, his much-darkened mood combined with Mrs Norris' strange symptoms made Minerva more and more certain that perhaps the legend of the Chamber of Secrets was true, and that a beast did lie within these stone walls.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened
Enemies of the heir beware
Minerva felt a shiver run down her back as her mind was again brought back to those words written on the walls. She felt a deep sense of dread settle in the pit of her stomach and for the second time that evening, her eyes drifted away from her marking and towards the window of her office overseeing the Quidditch Pitch. Not that she could see much, mind. The sun set now at 5 o'clock in the afternoon so, at 9 o'clock, the time that it was at this point, the hope of seeing anything at all was beyond slim.
This meant Minerva's mind began to wander until her thoughts settled on a particular memory she had of her first year at Hogwarts. She could not have been older than 11 at that point, sitting in a circle with three other girls from her dormitory. She remembered they had been eating Halloween chocolates as they listened to Lisa Martin's spooky story about an underground chamber holding a dangerous beast. Although the Chamber of Secrets had opened a few years before the four girls had started at Hogwarts, two of them had siblings who had been in their third and fourth years when it had supposedly opened.
Minerva remembered worrying about this story for days afterwards until Augusta had told quite sensibly that it was most likely a story made up by Slytherins to scare half-bloods or muggleborns. Augusta had been adamant that the attacks that had taken place during that period must have been random or tragic accidents. Seeing as pureblood mania was still high at the time and that a school full of underaged witches and wizards grouped together was bound to attract accidents, Augusta's explanation was not an implausible one. In fact, it was one that many found to be more attractive. Even many older students in their fifth, sixth, or seventh years who had been at school in 1943 were not keen on believing that an ancient monster had found its way into the school and attacked students. It was much easier to believe the alternative, even if it was still less than agreeable.
A gentle knock on her door pulled Minerva's mind back to the present. She looked away from the window and shuffled some papers as she tried to push thoughts of her school years out of her mind.
"Come in."
Pomona poked her head around the door. "Evening dear," she said, opening the door a little wider.
She sounded tired Minerva noticed. Likely due to the combination of teaching, marking, caring for the mandrakes as well as all of her other plants, worrying about her daughter, and taking the time to go back home every evening to see her husband before then waking up in the early hours to make it to school on time.
It was a wonder she did this every day and still managed to smile and take care of her Hufflepuffs without complaint - it was one of the many reasons why Minerva respected her entirely.
"On your way home?" Minerva asked, spotting the coat her friend was wearing and her packed handbag.
"Just about to. Albert will be wondering what I'm up to." Pomona smiled, though tiredly, and secured the pile of paperwork she was holding, under her arm. "I just wanted to let you know that I bumped into Albus on my way down, he should be in his office by now. I know you wanted to speak with him."
Minerva half rose from her chair, hesitant between packing her things and going to speak to Albus, or leaving it for another day. "Was it just now that you saw him?" she asked.
"It could only have been about five minutes ago," Pomona said. "But he did seem tired. It's possible he might have already gone to bed."
Minerva shook her head and got up, her mindset.
"Albus doesn't sleep," she said firmly which was, in fact, the truth - he was always up and about at the most ungodly hours. Even now it still baffled her at how little sleep he needed to function. "I've theorised it has a lot to do with the amount of sugar he consumes during the day."
Pomona laughed. "That would not surprise me in the least," she said, as Minerva came out of her office and locked the door. When she had finished Pomona leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, dear. And try not to badger the poor man too much."
"I will be very gentle," she promised, making Pomona chuckle. "Have a safe trip home."
Pomona nodded and waved as she began to walk away. Minerva in the meantime walking briskly in the other direction towards the Headmaster's office. She arrived quickly and had already knocked gently on the door less than 5 minutes since she had left her office.
"Enter. Ah, Minerva," Dumbledore said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you might come."
"Am I that predictable?" she asked lightly, as he gestured for her to take a seat.
He smiled. "I am merely aware that news happens to travel fast in this school," he explained. "How can I help you, my dear?"
"I think you can guess how, Albus," Minerva told him, giving him a pointed look over her spectacles as she sat down. "You told me you had some ideas about the writing on the wall, and Mrs Norris. I was hoping you could share with me what those are?"
He nodded and Minerva watched him silently as he clasped his hands on his desk. He interlocked his long slender fingers together as he usually did when he was about to impart with an important piece of knowledge; a habit Minerva had picked up on over the many years that they had known each other.
"I do have a few theories but none are definitive yet."
"I think any sort of lead is better than none."
"Quite right," he agreed, pausing slightly after as though trying to deduce where to start or rather how much to say. "My dear, do you know much about the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked finally. "Particularly the events of 1943."
Minerva swallowed and shifted her position in her chair. "In part," she said. "I know that it was opened supposedly about 50 years ago."
Dumbledore nodded for her to continue.
"And that many students were attacked including one girl who—who died."
Dumbledore nodded again, his bearded chin now resting on the tips of his fingers.
"That is all I know for certain," she finished. "I did hear rumours that the culprit was caught and the beast taken care of," she added. "But evidently that was not the whole truth."
"No, I am afraid it was not," Albus said, with a sigh. "Following the death of the student you mentioned, Miss Warren, another student in the possession of a beast of some sorts, was—caught, shall we say. Rather than investigate further and risk admitting that there was perhaps another explanation for these events, the Ministry intervened and ordered that that student be expelled."
He paused and Minerva watched him carefully.
"Are you suggesting that the student who was expelled was innocent?" she asked quietly, to which Dumbledore nodded. "Who was this student?"
"It was Hagrid."
Minerva widened her eyes and her head moved back an inch. "Sorry—Hagrid?" she repeated, stunned. Then, slowly, her shock began to turn to anger as she realised what this meant. "So someone..." she started, the heat rising in her cheeks, "Hagrid would never hurt a fly. No one who's met him would think otherwise."
"I quite agree, Minerva," Dumbledore nodded tiredly, pushing his spectacles up his nose. "But I am afraid the Ministry did not take the time to listen," he said. "There was pressure on them to act and act they did. Even if it meant overlooking certain details."
"Very many details," Minerva said hotly, before taking a deep breath and trying to control her emotions. "Who do you believe it was who framed him, then?"
"Tom Riddle, a fifth-year at the time, was the one who blamed Hagrid."
"Tom Riddle as in..."
"Voldemort," finished Dumbledore with a nod.
Minerva blanched and her hand rose to her mouth. "You cannot be serious, Albus," she said, knowing full well that he was.
"I am, my dear," he said. "Though I would much prefer it were untrue. Voldemort presumably learned of his connection to Salazar Slytherin and used this knowledge to locate and gain control of the Chamber of Secrets, including the monster."
"And he blamed Hagrid because—because," Minerva didn't even have to finish what she was going to say; it was known that being a half-giant was no quality when it came to being judged by the Ministry, however unfair and unjust that was. The mere fact that Hagrid had lost out on his education merely because of his heritage made Minerva's blood boil.
"So, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named opened the Chamber 50 years ago?" she clarified, and Dumbledore nodded. "But then who has opened it now?"
"I believe Voldemort again, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, causing Minerva to frown. "He has no descendants or relatives alive or well enough to be here."
"But he cannot be here, can he? Surely not," she said, the faintest trace of a pleading note in her voice.
"I do not think he is here in the same form as last year," Albus said, "which is perhaps all the more concerning."
Minerva let out a shuddering breath and placed her fingers on her temples for a moment. "What do we do, then?" she asked finally, folding her hands back across her lap. "There aren't many ways to petrify an animal like that; three if I remember correctly - one spell and two beasts."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Which is why I went to speak to Newt Scamander, an old friend of mine, about the potential identity of the supposed fantastic beast."
"What did he say?" she asked apprehensively.
"He believes we may be looking at a Gorgon," Albus said, "or...at a Basilisk."
Minerva closed her eyes and took a long deep breath through her nose. The worst part of it was that it made complete sense; Salazar Slytherin spoke Parseltongue, the Slytherin house emblem was a snake so the beast could only be, "A Basilisk," she repeated quietly.
"Or the statue curse," added Dumbledore.
Minerva opened her eyes. "I'm quite sure Mrs Norris was not under the statue curse. And Gorgons are a myth, Albus. There is hardly any evidence pointing to their existence."
"It would not be wise to rule out all possibilities before being certain, Minerva," he told her seriously. "Newt has agreed to look at Mrs Norris as soon as he is able to. I believe all that we can do, in the meantime, is find ways to ensure the safety of staff and students in the castle. We must proceed with great care."
"I realise that," she said, wanting desperately to put her head in her hands. Instead, however, she resisted the impulse and stood up. "I will do some research," she said. "But I don't recall there being an abundance of ways to dispose of a Basilisk or a Gorgon. And with no ideas regarding how You-Know-Who might be doing this, Albus," she added, making him look back up at her. "we might have to send the students home—for their safety."
He nodded and they stood in silence for a few minutes until Minerva finally sighed and straightened her robes.
"It's late," she said, "I believe we will be more productive tomorrow after we have had time to think things over. I will come and speak with you in the morning, Albus."
"Goodnight, my dear."
Barely five minutes later and Minerva was back in her rooms. However, as she pulled on her nightdress and slipped into bed she found that sleep escaped her entirely. By the next morning, she had only managed 2 hours of rest which did no favours to her now increased tired and gloomy mood.
