The Potter Timeline
Chapter 29 - The Ghost, the Nightmare, and Death
After dinner in the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione went to the Spellroom where Harry recounted the meeting with Dumbledore and Ginny Weasley.
"...so according to what Dumbledore told me, indirectly, Lucius Malfoy is Dobby's master. He's the former supporter of Voldemort."
"Well, that comes as no surprise," Hermione stated, "but from what it sounds like, he's still a supporter."
"Exactly. And Voldemort must have told Malfoy to somehow deposit the diary in Hogwarts so he could get at you or anyone else he wants to. Poor Ginny just happened to be there when Draco's father showed up at Flourish & Blotts. No doubt he placed the diary among Ginny's books. And she was the perfect target as she's been jealous of you because of our friendship."
Hermione nodded, a pinkish tinge appearing on her cheeks along with a slight smile, suggesting she was rather proud another girl was jealous of her over Harry. But the look only lasted a moment.
"Where's the diary now?" she asked.
"We don't know. Professor McGonagall said it wasn't in the first-floor girls' restroom where Ginny claimed she threw it. And Dumbledore asked McGonagall if someone named 'Myrtle' knew. But I have no idea who he was referring to."
Hermione chuckled.
"What?" Harry asked in puzzlement.
"Moaning Myrtle."
"Moaning Myrtle?"
"Yes. She's a ghost who haunts the first-floor restroom."
"Really."
Hermione nodded.
"The legend is she died in that restroom and wanders the stalls crying all the time. That's why they posted an out-of-order sign on the door. No one's supposed to go in there. But since it's on the first floor, some of us have had to use it in an emergency. Though trying to pee while hearing Myrtle go on in the next stall is really unnerving. Me and the other girls avoid it if possible."
"So, Myrtle might have seen Ginny throw the diary in one of the toilets. And she might have seen who took it after. But she disappeared before McGonagall could question her about it."
Hermione was in thought.
"We can try talking to her, Harry. But I can't guarantee she'll answer. When I spoke to her once, she screamed at me, dove into a toilet, and vanished. She doesn't like others intruding into her restroom."
"Well, it's worth a shot. That diary is bad news, and we need to find it before someone else is taken in by Tom and winds up doing something worse than setting furniture on fire."
"Right. If they haven't been taken in already."
~HP~
The following day, during their Dark Arts class, Lockhart was back in form, reading directly from Traveling with Trolls. At one point, Hermione raised her hand. But the man simply ignored her, acting as though she wasn't even there. And he didn't report back to her about her yeti question either. This irked the girl. After raising her hand several more times, she finally gave up. With a perturbed look on her face, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and began writing. Harry didn't know exactly what she was writing, but knowing Hermione, guessed she was compiling "evidence". Harry chuckled. Lockhart ignored the girl to his own peril.
That evening, Harry and Hermione went to the girls' restroom on the first floor.
"Alohomora," Hermione whispered while pointing her wand at the old door with an "OUT OF ORDER" sign plastered across it.
The door unlocked and creaked open. The pair entered and quietly closed it behind them. Harry winced at the musty, mildew smell of the darkened restroom. The sound of a faucet dripping drew his attention and he gazed at the bank of wash basins surrounding a tall stone column, similar to the one in the boys' restroom. The column in this one, however, was cracked from top to bottom. The floor was wet and scattered debris covered it from one end to the other. The stall doors were faded and worn and the bit of light coming in through a set of windows cast a gloomy pall inside - the perfect haunt for a ghost. Then they heard that ghost crying in one of the toilet stalls.
The second-years moved to the door. Hermione took a deep breath and knocked. The crying ceased.
"Who's there?!" Myrtle screeched in an ugly tone.
"Hi, Myrtle. It's me...Hermione Granger," the second-year said with as kind a voice as possible, "we'd like to ask you something...if you don't mind, that is."
"Who's 'we'?!"
Hermione's face scrunched up.
"Me and my friend...Harry Potter," she stated.
"You brought a boy in here?! I suppose he'll make fun of me too, like all the other boys did!"
"No, Myrtle," Harry stepped in, "um...we're not here to make fun of you. We just want to ask you a question..."
"NO! GO AWAY!" she shrieked and started crying again.
They frowned at one another. Hermione then took another deep breath before opening the stall door. Moaning Myrtle's translucent form hovered a few inches above the toilet seat. Her face in her hands, her dark pigtails falling below her head, the ghost bobbed up and down slowly while sobbing. The dead girl looked up, gave them an ugly glare, and let out an ear-splitting scream, causing Harry and Hermione to both jump. Myrtle then flipped over and dove right into the toilet, sending an explosion of water at them. They stared slack-jawed at each other, both of them dripping wet.
"I told you!" the girl said sour-faced while shaking water off her sleeves.
Harry chuckled despite his hair, glasses, and robes getting sprayed.
"Yes, you did," he replied, "guess we'll have to try again later."
"Well, I hope Myrtle won't be in such a foul mood next time," Hermione said perturbed.
Harry nodded as the pair left the creepy restroom.
The whereabouts of Tom Riddle's diary and who took it would remain a mystery...for the time being.
~HP~
As September gave way to October, cool weather crept in, bringing with it rain and blustery winds. Students found themselves bundling up earlier than expected in the Scottish autumn and several caught cold, filling Madam Pomfrey's hospital wing several weeks in a row. The halls of Hogwarts castle gave everyone a chill. So, Professor Dumbledore tasked Mr. Filch with keeping the old structure's multitude of fireplaces going. It was as much a way to cheer the students as it was to prevent further sickness.
The headmaster also introduced the new security measure he spoke of to Harry. Each dorm room door was now charmed, requiring a password to enter - like the fat lady's portrait to the common room. And further, in the event a room's password was somehow discovered by another person, the charm would only recognize the voice of those who inhabited the room. It would take time to get used to the new measure, but no one complained and it seemed to make the second-year girls feel much better in their newly-renovated room.
But these events were pushed to the side as Harry and Hermione found themselves buried under loads of homework. They barely had time for practice in the Spellroom and only got in one or two sessions per week, though that time was worth it. The two second-years continued honing their skills with each spell or charm they learned and put them to use in light practice duels if possible. They spent the remainder of their time studying together or with their classmates either in the Gryffindor common room or in the Great Hall on short-session Fridays.
Harry crammed in a couple of Quidditch practice sessions each week as well. The Gryffindor team was energized by his "outmaneuvering strategy" and worked extra hard at banking curves, making 180s, and flanking opponents with a combination of diagonal drops, rolls, and sharp turns. To help their efforts, Professor McGonagall generously provided each team member a pair of Periwinkle's No-Slip-Super-Grip Gloves, the same kind Hermione bought Harry the previous Christmas. And she bought the gloves with her own money, informing the group that if Lucius Malfoy could aid his son's team, she could aid hers as well.
Wood went overboard to keep their practice sessions and their special tactics top secret. Harry and his teammates were amused at the efforts their captain took to make sure no Slytherin "spies" caught wind of the lions' new strategy. One of his methods was to have Colin Creevey take pictures of any students watching the practice sessions. The first-year, fascinated by the game and especially Harry's role in it, had become a fixture at nearly every practice. So, Wood employed the kid for the task, something Creevey agreed to with zeal.
During those first weeks in October, no water appeared in the first-floor corridor, though Filch and Mrs. Norris kept their vigil, still hoping to catch a culprit. As well, no diary was found, and no terrible incident occurred. Ginny Weasley went back to her school routine, and despite no further appearances of Tom, the first-year avoided Harry and Hermione whenever possible, most likely out of embarrassment and guilt. This, despite the fact that Hermione told the girl she held no ill feelings toward her for what happened. Harry hoped Ginny might one day warm up to them.
And so, school life seemed to return to normal.
Until, one evening, just a few days from Halloween, Harry experienced a terrifying nightmare.
He found himself inside an old manor house somewhere in Britain. He stood in a dark hallway and saw faint, orange light coming from an adjacent room. He heard voices coming from inside the room as well as a hissing sound. Curious, he tried to step forward to peer inside. But he couldn't move! His body seemed paralyzed! The voices echoed into the hall in bizarre fashion, garbling what was said. However, Harry could tell one person was speaking in English while the other spoke in some incomprehensible tongue. But the only words Harry understood from the English speaker were "Yes, master...yes, master...yes, master..."
An enormous snake suddenly appeared from around the corner and gazed right at the twelve-year-old. Harry's heart pounded. The snake, its forked tongue flickering in and out of its mouth, slithered toward him. Harry panicked and was doing everything he could to try to move his body. But he couldn't budge! The snake rose from the floor, its black and brown skin reflecting orangish light from the room. The serpent then opened its mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. With an evil hiss, it leapt at the boy...
Harry awoke with a jolt, sweat pouring from his forehead and his heart racing as he gazed up at the ceiling of his four-poster. The nightmare seemed so real he was confused at finding himself back in his dorm room.
And his scar was burning, something that hadn't occurred since before the death of Professor Quirrell the previous term.
But as soon as he awoke, he felt a presence by the bed. One of the curtains to his right suddenly fell back in place as though someone had been standing there, gazing down at him, then fleeing the moment he looked over. A chill ran down Harry's spine. He grabbed his wand next to his pillow, flung open the curtains, and leapt onto the floor.
"Lumos!" he uttered. Swinging the wand left and right, Harry searched the room for the intruder but found no one. The room was eerily silent. This was puzzling. He checked on Dean, Neville, and Seamus. All were sound asleep in bed. Neville was laying on his stomach, drooling on his pillow. Dean was under his covers up to his neck. Seamus was peacefully snoring as always. Harry then went to the door and attempted to open it. It was still locked! No one could have gotten through the door without the password. And only Harry and his dorm mates could activate it with their specific voice.
The twelve-year-old lowered his wand and stood there in confusion.
What just happened? Who was standing by his bed? Was it Tom Riddle, appearing to him like he did to Ginny Weasley?
He had no idea. Still shaken by the dream and the frightening presence, Harry crawled back in bed, letting his adrenaline subside. He lay there for several minutes, trying to comprehend this spooky event, but couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Eventually, exhaustion hit him, and he fell asleep.
~HP~
At breakfast the next morning, a look of worry came over Hermione after Harry told her what happened.
"Harry, that's terrifying!" she uttered as quietly as possible so no one around them could hear.
"I know. And it was so real it didn't seem like a nightmare at all. I felt like I was actually at that manor house."
The girl paused before her bowl of porridge to think about it.
"You said your scar was burning. That can mean only one thing."
Harry gazed down at his half-eaten flapjacks.
"It was Tom...or Voldemort standing next to my bed. But he only showed up with Ginny after she started using his diary, which, at present, we have no idea where it's at. Why would he appear to me? And why would he flee when I woke up? Something doesn't add up, Hermione."
"I know. We don't have enough information yet. But one thing's clear. Someone is definitely trying to help Voldemort do something awful here at Hogwarts. We really need to be alert."
"Of course," Harry responded sourly, gazing back down at his plate.
"So much for having a normal school year," he uttered with a frown.
Hermione chuckled despite the serious nature of the topic. The pair finished their breakfast and headed off to class. After Flitwick's charms class that afternoon, they were heading toward Gryffindor Tower when they heard someone talking inside an empty classroom. Curious, they peered inside to find Nearly Headless Nick standing at the professor's desk while giving a speech to empty student chairs.
"...my late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow to...ah! Harry! Hermione! Hello there!"
"Hello, Sir Nicholas," Hermione said as the pair walked inside the doorway.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked the ghost.
"Why, I'm practicing my 'thank you' speech. Tidying it up a bit before the big event."
"What event?" Hermione asked.
"My Deathday Party."
"Your...Deathday Party?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes! Didn't you hear? The other Hogwarts ghosts and some ghoulish friends of mine from around Britain are throwing a big gala on Halloween night, in my honor. I even understand Sir Patrick and the Headless Hunt are attending. Though I'm not terrible thrilled about that, you understand."
"So, you won't be holding your play at the feast this year?" Hermione asked.
"I'm afraid not, young lady. First time in one hundred fifty years, believe it or not. But never mind! Next year I, the Fat Friar, and even Peeves will resume our theatricals. This year's Deathday is quite a milestone and worthy of celebration. Five hundred years since I went...nearly headless! Though it still seems like only yesterday..."
The ghost looked off at nothing with an expression of wonder. He then flew through the desk and up to the second-years.
"Speaking of celebration, I'd like to personally invite both of you. Would you do me the honor of attending?"
Harry and Hermione glanced at one another with slight revulsion at the idea.
"Thank you...Sir Nicholas, but...um...we..." Harry started, trying to think of an excuse to decline.
"...are expected to attend the feast in the Great Hall, I'm afraid," Hermione fudged.
Neither of them cared to spend a couple of hours among ghosts and ghouls in celebration of someone's death, even if the phantom was amiable. The thought was rather depressing.
"Ah. I see," Nick answered with a bit of disappointment. Harry and Hermione frowned at one another.
"By the way, Nick," Harry went on to change the subject slightly, "will Moaning Myrtle be there?"
The ghost perked up.
"I believe so, Harry! I personally invited her. She rarely leaves that restroom of hers but promised to attend. I think the occasion should cheer her up a bit."
"Well," Hermione added, "would you mind putting in a good word to her for Harry and me? We're trying to get some information out of her, but she seems...more out of sorts than usual and won't talk to us."
"Of course, Hermione. I'd be happy too. Now then, I'm off! Need to check on the food preparations for the party and make sure there are plenty of delicacies for all my undead guests."
"Alright, Sir Nicholas, see you later. And...happy...Deathday, by the way," Harry told the phantom.
"Thank you, Harry! I hope the two of you enjoy your living feast," Nick answered with a hint of bitter sarcasm. He then disappeared through a wall of the classroom. Harry and Hermione resumed their trek to the Tower.
"Ghosts eat food?" Harry asked the girl with a scrunched-up visage.
"Apparently so. Probably as rotten at they are and not very appetizing for us."
"Right. So, thanks for...bowing us out of Nick's party so graciously. I've already had one nightmare because of a ghost. I certainly don't need any more."
Hermione laughed and wrapped her arm around Harry's as they marched up the stairs toward the Fat Lady's portrait.
~HP~
Excitement stirred among the student population. Several days before All Hallows Eve, the appearance of jack o' lanterns, faux ghosts, and faux bats in the halls of the old castle indicated Hogwarts great Halloween feast was imminent. When it finally arrived, Harry, Hermione, and their fellow pupils entered the Great Hall to a familiar sight: floating jack o' lanterns and candles, the bewitched ceiling with eerie black clouds and a full moon, the walls crawling with spider shadows, and the enormous singing pumpkins at the High Table just as the year before.
But after Professor Dumbledore gave his usual Halloween speech and the feast got underway, the absence of real ghosts at the event made it seem more tame and Harry actually missed Sir Nicholas and his bunch being there. But he hoped things were going well for the ghoul at his Deathday party down in the dungeons.
Everyone was in good cheer partaking of the meal and mountains of Halloween treats while listening to a band of musical instruments entertain with spooky tunes, the instruments charmed by Professor Flitwick to play by themselves. Harry was just about to take another bite of Treacle Tart when he heard it.
...Come...come to me...let me kill you...let me tear you...so hungry...for so long...
The boy gulped and looked up wide-eyed. Hermione stopped in the midst of her chocolate pudding and gazed at him.
"Harry, what is it?" she inquired.
He lowered his fork and looked at her.
"I just heard it again...that same voice I heard a month ago! It's saying the same things!"
Hermione grew worried. Harry glanced around the Great Hall. No one else seemed to hear it - everyone was engrossed in the feast without a single care, it seemed. He wondered again if he was just imagining things. But then, he heard it one more time.
...I smell blood...there you are...come...let me rip you...
Harry knew for certain he wasn't imagining things now. He dropped his fork on the table and shot up in alarm. Something was dreadfully wrong. Hermione rose with him, staring at the boy in wonder, not certain of what to do.
"AAAHHH!"
The Great Hall went silent at the sound of a man screaming in the corridor outside the open doorway. Students and staff stared at one another in shock. Harry and Hermione's hearts pounded in their chests. Out of instinct, Harry bolted for the doorway to find out what happened.
After bounding into the corridor, Harry froze when his feet splashed in a half inch of water on the stone floor. He noticed the water extended all the way to the end. Looking ahead, something bright against a wall caught his attention. He shot toward it. When he reached the spot, he saw the chair Mr. Filch had been using to keep watch on the corridor for the supposed pranksters. But the twelve-year-old was stunned at what he saw next.
There, above the chair, a set of flaming words seemed etched in the very air.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware!
Harry was about to step closer to the words when his foot hit something. Gazing down, the boy was stunned to find a wet, scraggly Mrs. Norris lying in the puddle of water, her mouth gaping open, her legs stretched out, and her hair standing on end as though she had been frozen. But then, not far away, Harry saw Filch lying on the floor as well. The man's eyes were wide, and his mouth open as though a look of fright had been permanently etched on his face.
A crowd of students flooded into the corridor behind Harry to see what happened. Hermione burst from among them and ran to Harry's side, gazing in surprise at the caretaker, his cat, and the fiery words above the chair. Students were gasping, whispering, and otherwise stunned by the horrific sight.
"Enemies of the heir beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!" shouted Draco Malfoy from among the crowd.
Everyone turned to gaze at the blond-headed kid in astonishment. He swallowed hard as though regretting what he said as he tried to sink back into the crowd. But everyone was too shocked by the terrible sight to pay attention to him.
"Step aside, please," the voice of Dumbledore came through the crowd. The students obeyed as the headmaster, Hagrid, Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, and Lockhart appeared and stared at the scene.
"Oh dear!" McGonagall let out while clutching her robes.
Dumbledore lowered himself to examine Mrs. Norris while Snape did the same for Filch. After a few moments of poking and prodding at the little beast, the headmaster stood back up.
"Is she dead, Albus?" McGonagall asked pale-faced.
"No," the man answered, "her body is still warm. She's been petrified, it appears."
"My, my," Lockhart uttered, "I've seen this kind of thing many times before. I know just the cure..."
But everyone ignored the man and gazed at Snape who was taking Filch's pulse.
"Well, Severus? Is Argus petrified as well?" Dumbledore inquired of the man.
A somber frown appeared in Snape's face as he rose from the floor, still looking down at the caretaker.
"No, professor," the greasy-haired wizard stated, "I'm afraid...he's dead."