Chapter Sixty Two
The Headmaster sent all students to the Great Hall, as soon as he arrived at the scene. Within minutes, all four Houses had filled the hall, talking breathlessly about what had happened.
"The heir is back." Goyle boasted. "First the Squibs but you'll be next, Mudbloods!"
"If he's killing Squibs, it'll be you next, Goyle." Ron shouted.
Harry felt a tug on his robes. Far below, a little first year was trembling, her eyes wet. When had he grown so tall?
"W-we are safe here, aren't we, Harry?"
He patted her head affectionately. "Of course we are. I'm Harry Potter, aren't I?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, there's nowhere safer to be. And Professor Dumbledore will catch the kill—the troublemaker right away."
"I bet you'll catch him first." She said intensely.
Harry laughed. "I'm more of a big flashy lights and big boom guy, I don't think I can play detective." He ran his hand through his hair and stopped halfway through.
Ugh, my friends are right. Why do I do that?
"I believe in you." The little girl said earnestly. "I'm Eleanor Branstone but you can call me Ellie."
"Why, thank you Ellie. I'm Haribald Harrarius Hactor Harrison, but you can call me Harry."
She giggled. "You're funnier than you look."
"I don't look funny?"
She shook her head from left to right. "Heroes don't look funny. Heroes look heroic."
"Hmm, I'll have to remember that."
She pointed at Ron, who was having a shouting match across the Hall with Goyle. "He looks funny."
"That he does, but don't hold that against him. He can be pretty heroic too, sometimes."
She looked doubtful.
Professor Dumbledore's explosive wand crack silenced them all. "Given that Mr. Filch's attack was while we were all eating, we have reason to believe there may be an intruder in Hogwarts. The teachers and I will conduct a thorough search of the castle." He said as McGonagall and Flitwick closed all the doors into the hall.
"I'm sorry to say that, for your own safety, you will all be spending the day and the night here. Prefects, stand guard over the entrances. Head Boy and Head Girl, you're in charge."
Though Dumbledore said differently, his eyes were looking at Harry. Clearly, he wanted Harry to watch the students while they investigated.
Dumbledore waved his wand and all the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls. One wave more and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.
"Isn't this familiar?" Harry said dryly.
"I don't suppose this is a big Sirius prank, is it?" Hermione wondered.
"Even for Sirius, killing Filch is a bit extreme." He said dryly, his eyes on Ginny. The redhead looked shaken, staring at her hands.
"I have also asked the house elves to retrieve your regular nightwear." Dumbledore said. Clothes appeared on each sleeping bag. Hermione flinched next to him — she wore a skimpy satin negligee when she wore anything at all — Harry could see it shimmering on the floor.
"Great." She muttered. "Thanks, Professor."
"But how will we go to the bathroom?!" Lavender waved her hand in the air wildly.
"And what will we drink…and um, eat?" Lee Jordan said hopefully.
Dumbledore peered at them over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Though my days of youth are long behind me, Mr Jordan, I am well aware of what happens when a young collective is left unsupervised."
Lee Jordan's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
Dumbledore frowned sternly. "I am trusting you all to behave responsibly in the presence of the younger years and in respect to the situation. To prevent the entry and exit of any alcohol, only the ladies will be allowed to leave to the bathroom, supervised by a Prefect, and they will be searched each time. The House Elves have installed a portable toilet behind the divider on the far wall for the gentlemen."
"Gross." Daphne blanched.
"Well done, Lee." Dean snapped.
Harry grimaced as he looked at the clock. It wasn't even lunch time yet — one whole day locked in the Great Hall might result in another murder.
Especially, he thought, if the killer was locked in there with them.
Once the teachers left, the Great Hall quickly formed into cliques as the Prefects handed out biscuits.
"Are you going to be okay, Harry?" Hannah whispered, fidgeting.
"I don't think I'm in danger, Han."
"No, I mean," She leaned closer. "Not being able to get any relief all day. What will you do?"
Harry snorted — if anything, not being able to have sex would be the relief he needed from his horny girls. "I think I'll manage but thank you, sweetheart."
"Let me know if I can help." She urged.
"…I will."
Meanwhile, Susan was organizing the younger years into games of Exploding Snap.
"Games!" Ron said excitedly. He produced a chessboard out of nowhere.
"Where…where were you hiding that?" Seamus frowned.
"I keep one in my bag, just in case."
"In case what?"
"I'll play you." Lisa Turpin said bravely. "Heard you're good, for a Gryffindor."
Ron smacked his hands together. "Oh, you're about to get pawned."
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Is now really the right time to play games? A man just died!"
"Shut up, Hermione," Lee pushed past her. "I'm taking bets on the winner!" He announced.
"Five Galleons on Lisa." Cho said confidently. "I've played her."
Hermione looked at her derisively. "Double that and you're on. Ten on Ron."
Everyone turned to look at her in surprise.
"What?" She crossed her arms. "It's not ethical but I didn't realize there was anyone left in this castle that Ron hadn't hustled in chess."
"Do you even have ten Galleons?" Harry whispered into his girlfriend's ear.
"Your money is my money, right?" She said, not looking away from the chessboard.
Harry snorted. "Not betting, Gin? Ron in chess is like free money."
The girl sat on her sleeping bag, hands wrapped around her knees, biting her thumb. "Huh? Oh, no."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, of course." She scoffed. "Why wouldn't I be?" Her face pale. She couldn't even look at him.
He sat next to her gently. "Hey. We're okay? This isn't like the last time. Someone wants to cover up something by using the story of the Heir, that's all."
"R-right." She gave him a grateful smile. "You're right."
"'Course I am. There's no possession, there's no diary, there's no Riddle. Right?"
"Right." She nodded, her smile limp. "Thanks, Harry." Her lips twitched. "But if I do end up in the Chamber again, you'll come rescue me, right?"
"Sure." He said breezily. "Just make an appointment and pay a deposit — slaying basilisks costs five hundred galleons but for you, I'll do it for five."
"Mate's rates, huh?"
"You know it." He punched her arm. "Oh, Merlin, your night clothes aren't the official Harry Potter pajamas are they?"
She scowled at him, but he got what he wanted — her lips tugging up. "Hardly! I wear the official tee shirt." She paused. "Wait, do you have merchandise?"
Harry shrugged. "Honestly, no idea. If I find out, I'll get you the slippers." Peter and Cissy had been doing some radical things to increase his funding. He'd told them the war would be expensive.
"And the jumper," She said. "I can't tell Mum her ones are too itchy." She grinned. "Thanks, Harry. Go and do your hero thing."
"I'm not doing anything!"
"And it doesn't suit you. Go!"
He stood and strolled around the Great Hall. It did feel odd to not be involved in Hogwarts' latest adventure, but Dumbledore had asked him to keep the student body safe.
The old man could handle it.
Although…Tonks was here and she was a fully trained Auror…
The crisis had brought Hogwarts together — everybody was determined not to let the trauma of Hogsmeade return. Padma was reading a book to a crowd of young students, fairy tales originally told by Beedle the Bard.
Susan's Exploding Snap games had become a tournament, their section of the hall loud with booms and shouting kids, all while she recorded the wins and losses on a blackboard.
Meanwhile, the Slytherins were doing…something, scribbling away on parchment.
Harry raised an eyebrow at Daphne. He wasn't talking to her, not that she'd noticed, but he was still curious.
"The young ones are doing a thought experiment on how they'd take advantage of the chaos. The middle years are plotting how to get some beer tonight and the sixth and seventh years are writing five inches on how they'd have killed Filch."
"Fuck's sake, Daphne." Harry groaned. "He just died."
She shrugged. "Let's not pretend that it's a great loss. To be honest, I thought it was you that did it."
"It wasn't!"
"Good." She smiled thinly. "You should come to me for that stuff." She stepped so close that he could smell her rosewater perfume. Daphne always smelled as expensive as she looked. "Do you…need me?"
"No. Just no." He rubbed his forehead and walked away. Daphne was scary.
A roar erupted from the Gryffindors as Ron checkmated Lisa, before standing and flexing his biceps. Lavender clapped excitedly.
Harry leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, studying the Hogwarts boys and girls. Filch had stood up for the first time ever and made a speech about all the Quidditch cheating artifacts he'd confiscated. Not thirty minutes later, he was dead.
It was an odd coincidence.
Dumbledore thought it could be an intruder…it wasn't impossible. But it wasn't easy to get on the grounds of Hogwarts.
Sirius had done it…but even if someone had come to Hogwarts, why Filch? Harry doubted anyone cared about the miserable man enough to go through all the work.
No, it made more sense that it was someone in the student body.
The red hair burned a hole in his pocket. Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to think it was Ginny.
And yet…and yet she'd left the meal early. Like Filch had.
Harry had a little of Tom in his head. Was it possible that something remained in Ginny too?
"No part of me would sully themselves with the mudblood, not even to possess her." Tom hissed.
"Part of you already did." Harry muttered to himself.
He conjured a timeline in his head.
Ginny leaves the meal early to do Dark Lord things.
Filch sees her up to no good.
To hide her secret, possessed Ginny strikes, killing him and then tearing the painting to make sure she was unseen.
Harry pursed his lips. He didn't like it. It didn't ring true.
There was only one way to know for sure…and that was to get out of the Hall.
He caught the eyes of Seamus and flicked his chin. The Irish boy saw the urgency in his eyes and in minutes, Harry was surrounded by his boys.
Potter and the sidekicks.
"I need a way out of this hall." He said simply.
Neville bit his lip. "They're only letting the girls out to go to the bathroom. The guys have a urinal trowel behind that divider."
"Piss yourself." Dean said instantly. "They'll have to let you go to the bathroom."
"Uh…any other ideas?"
"What if we fight and we have to go to Pomfrey?" Ron suggested.
Harry shook his head. "She'd only come to us. I need a way where I can be out of the hall without people noticing. Otherwise, some square will just tell the teachers."
"House business." Ernie snapped his fingers. "You can do anything as long as you say it's House business. If we could like, conjure a tent or something?"
All of them looked at Harry expectantly.
"What, you think there's a tent conjuring spell?" He grumbled. "I mean, maybe…" He looked at the long wooden tables stacked against the wall.
"Against the windows." Seamus advised. "A tent against the windows, we say you're having a House meeting with MacMillan, and you go out through the window, all stealthy like."
Harry envisaged it in his mind and with his magic, made it happen. The long tables floated against the arch windows at the back of the hall, where the staff table was, brushing through the unlit floating candles.
"Swish, swish, bitch." Dean cheered as Harry flicked his wand to and fro. The tables grew, shrunk, melded together, splinters radiating out like an exploding hedgehog before inserting themselves into the joints. When he was done, he'd made not a tent but a little wooden house, not even high enough to stand up in.
Enough to hide in.
Crucially, the back sat against the bottom half of the glass windows.
Harry glanced at Hermione. She was the obvious choice to accompany him as he played Sherlock.
"Not a good idea." Ernie caught his gaze. "The second you bring a girl into that house, everyone's going to think you're having sex."
He grimaced. "Is that a problem?"
"You have hundreds of kids in here, Harry — they think you're up to hanky panky, they're going to be knocking your little cottage down like the big bad wolf. You remember being in school the first time two kids kissed?" Dean told him.
"What wolf? How does a wolf knock down a cottage?" Ron frowned.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Too long to explain. Alright, House business it is. Ernie, you're up."
The Hufflepuff boy stood in front of the little house and held his hands behind his straight back. Seamus sniggered — Ernie had always been a little portentous.
"Forgive the distraction, my fellow students—" He called like a town crier.
"What is he doing?" Ron said under his breath.
"—But I must discuss urgent House business privately with Lord Potter. We shall return presently!"
Ernie bowed.
"Nobody cares, man!" Someone shouted. Ernie flushed.
Harry ignored Seamus' chortling as he bundled Ernie into the little wooden hut.
Before they swung the wooden door shut, Ron slipped in and closed the door behind him.
"What are you doing?"
"What?" The ginger boy crossed his arms. "You're having an adventure, I'm by your side. That's how this works, remember?"
"Ron, this isn't—"
"A game, yah-di-yah. Thbbft!" He blew a raspberry. "Let's go already. Ernie, stay here until we come back in case anyone knocks. The boys are outside standing guard."
"Can't I come with?" Ernie said disappointedly.
Harry hummed and hawed. "Next time — if someone cracks the door open, you need to tell them they're interrupting House Business and it's a serious offence, blah de blah."
Ernie nodded firmly. "You got it."
Putting his wand to the glass on the house's back, he concentrated. Glass to water was a difficult transfiguration, especially when he couldn't transfigure the top half of the window pane, the part visible in the Great Hall.
The glass shimmered, a window pane made into a water pane, the colours of the world outside gleaming through the hovering waterfall.
"Up for a swim?" Harry winked at Ron before diving through the water pane. Out into the castle grounds, his knees smacking on the ground, his clothes soaked through.
"Gugh—" Ron spat out the lungful of water after he dove through. "Just as I was thinking you were Merlin reincarnate."
"What?" He shook his black hair like a wet dog, splashing his friend deliberately. "Glass to water is really complex!"
"I'm just saying, Dumbledore would have found a more graceful way."
"You couldn't have done it." Harry grumbled. Nobody appreciated how good his wand work had become sometimes — it wasn't like having Tom's memories had automatically made him able to do it all.
If Ron had Tom's mind merged into his, he'd…actually, that was a scary thought.
"Mate," Harry said suddenly. "What would you do if you had my power and fame?"
Ron blinked at him owlishly. "Dunno." He shrugged. "Probably shag a load of birds and buy the Cannons."
"That's…oddly reassuring."
Tom growled in the back of his mind. "Perhaps the least of the Weasley's is a low bar to clear."
Harry supposed that was true too.
Ron sighed as Harry used a charm to dry him off. "Does this mean you're going to buy the Cannons?"
"You think a big stack of Galleons will solve the Cannons' problems?"
"Probably not."
"Then no." He grinned.
"I guess I'll keep trying to get rich." Ron gave him two thumbs up. "What's the plan?"
"Marauder's Map — if there is an intruder in Hogwarts, that'll find him. Maybe take another look at the murder scene?"
"Right behind you, mate."
They sneaked back into the Castle but they needn't have bothered. The entrance hall was empty as were the corridors. With all the students locked away, the castle felt eerie, too large. No wonder the killer had been comfortable killing Filch with everyone in the Great Hall.
Filch's body had been levitated away, but the stone floor was still covered in blood, the walls still shining with the warning message.
Ron stared at the wall. "You don't think it's him again, do you?"
"The Dark Lord isn't killing caretakers."
"But do you think…" Ron trailed off.
Harry knew what he was about to say. Did he think it was Ginny again? Somehow possessed, again…or still.
Harry didn't reply, crouching to examine the stone tiles. The castle was old, the stones mishapen and angular, sticking out at odd angles, like an ancient Roman road. It was Hogwarts' magic that flattened them, unless she was being mischievous and wanted to trip you up.
The grout between the tiles were sunken — firsties often complained they lost quills between them. Older years would tell them that Hogwarts had taken them as tribute. Now, that grout was covered in blood, but as Harry swept his finger between them, he realized there was a powder too.
Without thinking, he licked the blood away.
"Mmm," Tom moaned in his head.
Harry flinched. Fucking Dark Lord in my mind, making me freaky.
At least Ron hadn't seen it. With the blood removed, the powder was visible. Black powder.
"What's that?" Ron asked.
"I don't know…Floo powder, maybe." He hesitated. "Or maybe Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."
"Like Fred and George sell?"
Harry stilled. "The twins are selling this?"
"Yeah! They're selling a bunch of defensive products. People are desperate, mate. Hogsmeade really…well, y'know. Me and Gin went to see their new shop and the twins gave us a bunch of it to give out…" Ron trailed off again.
"I see…"
"You don't think—"
"See this painting?" Harry stood suddenly and pointed at the painting of Iris Pius that had been slashed to pieces.
"Hope she escaped to another painting in time." Ron said quietly. "Like the Fat Lady did in third year when Sirius…you know."
"If she had, Dumbledore would have identified the killer by now." The oil painting had been gouged in five ribbons, torn by a hand.
"Big rip, right? Big hand." Harry said.
"Y-yeah," Ron brightened up. "Yeah! Like a guy's hand?"
"Like a guy's hand."
Maybe. But how had Ginny's hair gotten onto Filch's chest?
Ron was smiling weirdly.
"What?"
"It's just nice, is all." The boy shrugged. "Working together with you. Danger in Hogwarts. Us on an adventure to solve it."
Harry rubbed his eyebrow. "Someone's dead, Ron."
"I know! I'm just saying." He kicked the floor tile. "I missed this, mate."
Harry softened. Ron had been with him through thick and thin, always up for an adventure. Those things made for unbreakable bonds, no matter how much they'd grown apart. They'd grown tall, gangly, but when he looked at his old friend, he still saw the boy from the train ride, with chubby cheeks, a smudged nose, grinning back at him with a Chocolate Frog bouncing in his cheeks, their glee shared as they made their way through the hoard of sweets from the trolley.
"Me too." He said hoarsely. "Me too."
The moment was too long. Harry laughed away the lump in his throat. "You're not going to cry, are you?"
"I'm not crying, you're crying." Ron scowled.
"You're crying."
"I'm not crying. It's dusty." Ron insisted. "Like that black powder is in my eyes. And I think I'm like, allergic to all this blood."
"Sure."
"That's a thing! I'm allergic to death."
"Maybe you're sad about Filch."
Ron scoffed. "Hardly. He's been snatching bags off people in the halls, rooting through them. I was terrified he was going to find my Fleur envelope before we found him, y'know, dead."
"That photo probably would have killed him. Come on, let's go get the map already."
They made their up the staircases to the Gryffindor Tower. Even Hogwarts was somber today — no trick steps, no moving stairways.
"What's the Gryffindor password again?" Harry asked. He'd been out of the castle too long — and kept flying into Hermione's window rather than entering the Common Room.
"Voices!" Ron yanked the back of his collar and pulled them behind a statue. Footsteps and then a familiar voice.
Dumbledore. "Gentlemen, though I understand your concern, this really would move faster if I could be left to ensure Hogwarts' safety, alone."
A raspy voice answered him. Rufus Scrimgeour. "Dumbledore, this is hardly the time for your flippancy. A man is dead!"
"I'm touched by your concern over Mr. Filch, Rufus—"
"It's not about the caretaker and you know that." Scrimgeour snapped. "It's about the safety of students and the image of Hogwarts."
Harry could feel Ron holding his breath as the footsteps passed them.
Dumbledore's voice grew cold. "I take nothing more seriously than the safety of all those that reside here in Hogwarts, which is why I'm asking you not to take up any more of my time—"
"I'm serious, Dumbledore. If you don't find the killer, I'll be forced to take the school over! The Ministry will do what you can't! We can't have parents taking their kids out of the castle."
Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Let's not resort to threats, Rufus. I will find who did this." Their voices dissipated as they walked away.
Ron exhaled heavily. "Damn, they're really going to try to kick Dumbledore out?"
Harry bit his lip. "Scrimgeour would love it — be seen as the man that saved Hogwarts, station a bunch of Aurors in front of it for a photo op."
"Would he? I can't imagine the teaching would be any good."
"More Ministry focused, for sure — the Ministry's always seen Hogwarts as a breeding ground for their employees." Harry screwed up his face. "Minister got here pretty quick, didn't he?"
Ron looked at him with surprise. "What, you think he's got something to do with this?"
"No." Harry cocked his head. "Probably. Let's get the map."
The Fat Lady scowled at them as they neared. "You shouldn't be here, you know."
Ron scowled right back. "He's Harry Potter — Dumbledore's asked him to help."
She harrumphed as she swung open to let them in. "I'll be checking, you know!"
"No, she won't." Ron told him. "She's a proper softie." He grinned.
"Grab the map for me, will you? The cloak too." Harry asked. "I left something in Hermione's room."
"Alright."
Harry deactivated the stairs-to-slope charm that prevented boys from climbing the stairs to the girl's dormitory, but he passed Hermione's room. Instead, he went a floor higher to where Ginny slept.
Like Hermione, Ginny had cordoned off her section of the dorm with black curtains that snapped with bat-fangs as he approached. He sliced them from the curtain pole and stepped through.
Crunch. The red Gryffindor carpet was no more. Harry looked down, bewildered.
Sand. Her whole floor was covered in pristine golden sand, like she'd stolen a beach from Bournemouth.
Was this a way to stop intruders? He couldn't imagine many bothered trying to get past her bat-curtains. Otherwise, the room was like any other teenage girl's.
Messy, with too many clothes. There was a poster of him on the wall, embarrassingly. No Dark Arts books, no rooster feathers, no blood…nothing out of the ordinary.
Except the sand…and, he saw, shackles on each corner of the bed. Handcuffs.
Harry hesitated. Was it a sex thing? Ginny didn't even have a boyfriend. He doubted she'd even kissed anyone.
"Thought you might come here." A voice made him jump
Harry turned guiltily. Ron stood there, holding his map and the cloak.
"Ron, I…" He faltered.
"It's okay, I get it." His friend looked around the room, his jaw tight. "She's been doing this since the Chamber. Tom went away but the fear never did."
"The fear?"
"That he'd come back, take her over." Ron explained. "Make her…do things. That summer was awful — she'd wake up screaming every night. Merlin, the look in her eyes, Harry."
"I…I didn't know."
"You had your own things to worry about, with Sirius escaped from Azkaban and all." Ron twisted his lips. He nodded his head at the room. "This is how she got better. Charmed handcuffs at night to make sure she doesn't leave her bed — they unlock each morning."
"And the sand?"
"To make sure she knows he hasn't come back and fooled her. No footprints in the sand, no demons possessing her." His jaw set. "I know it's silly, but it helps her."
Harry said nothing. What could he say?
"It's not her, mate." Ron swore. "I know it's the same as it was back then and I know she left breakfast early, but it's not her. I swear."
Harry swallowed. He pulled out the hair in his pocket. The red hair. "Ron, I…I found this."
The blood drained from Ron's face, but his nostrils flared. "It's not her." He said firmly. "It's not her. I know what it looks like, but it's just not."
Harry clamped his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I don't think it's her either."
"You don't?" Ron said gratefully.
"I don't. But someone really wants us to think it's her, which is good."
"It is?"
He gave him an encouraging smile. "It's really good. Did you check the map?"
"Yeah," Ron's shoulders hunched together. "There's nobody in Hogwarts out of the ordinary."
"Just as I thought."
"I…I don't follow."
"Think about it. How many people know that Ginny of all people was the one behind the Chamber opening in second year?"
"Like…almost nobody. Dumbledore didn't want anyone to bully her."
"Right." Harry snapped his fingers. "You know, I know, some teachers know. Dumbledore knows. Your family knows. And…"
"Lucius Malfoy knew." Ron realized.
"So we can imagine that Draco knew. He probably didn't want to bring it up because then questions start getting asked about how Ginny got the book that possessed her."
Ron nodded slowly. "So the other Death Eaters to be might know too? The scum-to-be."
"The Slytherins." Harry nodded eagerly. "That gives us a starting point, right?"
Ron pointed at the Marauder's Map — the dense bunch of dots in the Great Hall. "It also means the killer is in the Great Hall, Harry." He said grimly.
"We need to get back there but first, I want to look at Filch's office. We need more clues."
"Let's go already. I don't want my sister sleeping in the Great Hall with the killer tonight." Ron shuddered. He tapped the map with his wand. "Mischief managed."
The parchment appeared blank once more. "We don't even make our own mischief anymore." Ron muttered.
Harry snickered. "Just manage other people's."
"Does that still count?"
"We'll ask Sirius."
Out of the Common Room and through the maze of corridors, they used the map to ensure they didn't encounter anyone. Dumbledore was still being harassed by Scrimgeour and his entourage, by the looks of it, while the teachers methodically searched the castle.
Filch's office was tiny and musty, a room without windows. A oil lamp hung from the ceiling, illuminating the filing cabinets of reports and his prized possession on the wall — chains once used to punish students. Polished, of course, since Filch had often loudly fantasized about bringing back the punishment.
Crunch.
"Again with the sand." Harry muttered — Filch's office was layered in it. Paw prints and big footprints. "He must be using it to catch intruders."
"Ginny's feet aren't that big." Ron said with satisfaction.
"You know what they say about guys with big feet." Harry said suddenly.
"Huh?"
"Big socks."
"Harry."
Mrs Norris mewled at them, lying on his desk. Her eyes were wide and mournful.
"I almost feel sorry for her." Ron muttered. "If it wasn't for all the times she'd run off to tell Filch when we were sneaking around. I swear she can see through the cloak."
The cat growled at him.
"And she understands English, apparently." Harry said dryly. "Have a look around."
The cabinet labelled Confiscated and Highly Dangerous was his first port of call. Once, the Marauder's Map had been found in here by Fred and George. But when he unlocked it, it was empty.
"That's weird," he said. "He's been confiscating tons of things, right?"
"Yeah," Ron peered over his shoulder. "Cheating artifacts. Gloves and Bludgers."
"All gone."
"Slytherins are trying to cheat at Quidditch, huh? No shock there."
"Cheating's one thing, killing's another." Harry said grimly.
Mrs Norris leapt onto the floor and howled.
"Shut up, you stupid pussy." Ron griped.
"I told you to rethink that pickup line."
"Hah-de-hah."
Mrs Norris hissed from under the table and pushed something at Harry's foot. It was a red strip of rubber balloon.
"Huh."
Ron blanched. "Thought that was a discarded Filch condom for a second."
"Please stop."
"So we have a punctured red balloon, a red hair, some black powder and a guess it's a Slytherin. Damn, Harry." He sighed. "This is why we bring Hermione along, you know."
"You think she'd have figured this out?"
Ron looked pained. "She drives me batty and there's no way to win an argument with her, but she's always got an answer, even if it's not the answer."
Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Let's get back to the Hall, then. We've done all we can out here."
Mrs Norris meowed.
"We'll solve this, kitty." Ron told her. "With any luck, we'll get more clues when the killer comes back for you."
The cat spat at him as they departed.
Harry gave him the side-eye.
"What?" Ron defended. "She's a bitch."
Harry just shook his head. For all that Filch was a hateful person, he'd still been loving to his cat. That showed some glimmer of humanity, didn't it?
Although Tom also cared for Nagini, so perhaps not…
"My magnificent serpent cannot be compared to that trifling ball of fur." Tom complained.
"Yeah, yeah. Tell someone that cares."
"Who are you talking to?" Ron looked at him oddly.
"Nothing. Nobody, I mean."
I'm going mad.
Out of the castle and back through the window.
Ernie flinched when they dove through, holding his back. "You could have Transfigured me a chair, at least." He said reproachfully.
"Sorry. Any trouble?"
"Dora kept loitering and Turpin wanted Ron for a rematch, but otherwise no."
"Silly bint." Ron scoffed. "Her French Defense is the worst I've ever seen."
They pushed out of the hut. The afternoon was fading away. Susan's Exploding Snap games had changed to Gobstones for the young'uns, but the Ravenclaws' game was drawing more attention.
They'd merged the floating candles in the Hall into rings of fire, through which participants were throwing balls of parchment. "Five points for the lower rings, ten for the middle, twenty for the top! Come one, come all! Two sickles to play!" Lee Jordan was shouting.
"Lee, we're not charging, stop trying to make money!" Cho snapped. Her Ravenclaw blue pantyhose had ripped, Harry noticed.
"Any luck?" Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.
"Huh, yeah." He said guiltily. "Ron will fill you in."
"That's…not much to go on." She said when he'd finished.
"Is there anyway it could be Snape?" Ron said hopefully.
"That seems likely." Neville added.
"Stop it." Hermione glowered. "I've read about crime solving, you know. You need methodical steps and to follow the process without bias. Every killer makes at least one mistake."
"But it was definitely a Slytherin, at least." Ron piped up.
"Without bias, Ron."
"I'm not biased, I'm following, um, historical trends in the data!"
"Really?"
"Yes!"
Harry let his friends argue while he found Daphne. The girl was reading a Witch Weekly special issue on the grandest magical weddings ever — or was showing the cover off, at least.
"Planning already?" Harry said gruffly. He wanted to keep being angry at her, but she was so hot. The little smirk on her face, twirling her hair round her finger, her stocking-clad feet rubbing against each other as she reclined in a Transfigured armchair.
"You only get married once." Daphne paused, her face souring. "Well, I only get married once. What's up?"
"We think it's a snake. Anyone acting oddly?"
"Flint's being obsessive over Quidditch, but that's normal." She gestured at the boy who had a spray of scribbled parchments on a table, using salt shakers to show his tactical plan to a bewildered Pucey. "The Carrow twins are being weirdly nice. I think they started wearing heels, too."
"Is that weird?"
Daphne looked at him like he was an idiot. "Heels are barely comfortable when one is practiced in them, darling. Living your whole life without heels and then choosing to wear them is like waking up one day and deciding you'd like to be circumcised. With a Cutting Charm."
"A pleasure as always, Daph."
"I'm pretty sure I saw Goyle stuffing socks into his underwear. I think he's worried his pajamas won't bulge when he puts them on later." Daphne smirked. "That's not relevant, but it is funny."
"I…thanks, Daphne."
"Anytime."
The knowledge that all their peers would be seeing them in their nightclothes had affected many. Justin Finch-Fletchley was loudly advising the guys not to drink any water, so they looked more cut.
Seamus had deliberately yanked open the door of Harry's wooden hut while Dean was trying to secretly do press-ups. "It's not a crime to get some blood into the muscles." The boy snapped.
Harry was pretty sure, also, that the girls never got ready for bed by putting on a full face of makeup. Romilda, already an emotional mess after discovering Filch's body, was in hysterics. "The house-elf should have got my satin slip, not my old woolly pajamas!" She sobbed. "They have holes in!"
"I don't know what she's so fussed about." Hannah muttered to him smugly. She had dressed in her pajamas as soon as the sun started falling — hers were old and woolly too, but they'd also clearly been bought when she was twelve — her tits stretched her top so far that its hem was above her belly button, and her tight pajama bottoms could barely fit her wide hips.
Ginny fidgeted in front of him. "H-hi, Harry, can I have a moment? I need to tell you something—"
"Harry, it's time for dinner." Cho tapped his shoulder. "Any way you can make the seating more communal?" She flicked her eyes at the firsties. "We're trying to make them think its a fun sleepover, so they don't cry all night."
"You got it. Uh, hang on, Gin—"
"—It's okay," Ginny gave him a tremulous smile. "I'll tell you later."
The Harry-hut got Transfigured into a handful of large circular logs, while Dora sparked up a fireplace in the centre of each. With their bowls of beef stew, they could also imagine they were on a camping trip, and not quarantined because of a murder.
Harry found himself sitting next to little Ellie Branstone and Hannah on the other — he almost wanted to cover his Hufflepuff up. The new seating had made some odd partners — across from Harry, a towering Flint was sitting next to a quivering Dennis Creevey.
Daphne ensured her legs accidentally brushed a red-faced Neville. On Harry's left, Ron was sat in between Dean and Blaise Zabini.
"Terrible what happened to Filch, of course." Ron told Zabini. "But like, you, me, Dean, we know why he had it coming, if you know what I mean."
Dean face-palmed.
"We should do, like, scary stories!" Ellie said excitedly to everyone.
"Why is the midget speaking?" Pucey glowered.
Ellie shrank.
"I think it's a great idea." Harry said firmly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I…who would be a great spooky storyteller?" He said, scanning the circle. Luna was staring up at the enchanted ceiling absently, sitting next to Ginny. "Luna?"
"Harry?" She blinked owlishly through her spectacles, which were glittery and large enough to fit Hagrid. She was holding her own personal bottle of barbecue sauce, squirting it into her beef stew.
"She certainly scares me." Harry heard Ron mutter.
"You've always got some great stories about, uh, wrackspurts and things." He said. "Got any spooky stories to entertain us?"
Luna stared at him silently, until people began to titter. "My warnings about the Wrackspurt infestation tend to engender laughter more than fear, Harry." She smiled serenely. "I do like this night though. It's like having friends."
The circle of students coughed or suddenly found themselves interested in the beef stew.
"We are frie—"
"I'm indisposed, anyway." Luna said seriously. "Talking to the dead." She stared again up at the ceiling.
"Yes," Ellie cheered, kicking her legs. "Talking to the dead, that's great stuff."
Harry hesitated. It didn't look like Luna was joking.
Luna smiled brightly at the little girl. "In fact, it's rather horrible. When I talk to my Mum, I get very sad."
Tom sniggered in his head. "She reminds me of this woman I used to test my Cruciatus on."
Merlin's long grey beard.
Harry had to jump in — a whole generation of Hogwarts students would be traumatised.
"It's okay, Luna, you don't need to share—"
"I'm not talking to Mum right now, though." Luna pulled at her waist-length dirty blonde hair — there was a barbecue bottle cap entwined in it, for some reason. "I'm talking to Mr Filch."
The room went silent — Harry hadn't realized the other wooden circles were listening too.
"That's not funny, Luna." Hermione said firmly.
"I agree, Hermione." Luna said dreamily. "Mr Filch doesn't think so, either."
"A man's dead, Luna, this isn't time for your attention-seeking." Cho scowled.
Flint glared at the blonde girl. "Don't pretend you can speak to the dead, Looney."
Luna's large silvery eyes gleamed, like the light from the moon that was rising through the sky outside. "Everyone can speak to the dead, silly. I just take the time to listen to them." She said plaintively.
"What's he saying?" Ellie said eagerly.
"He wishes he never spent so long trying to fit in where he didn't belong." Luna clicked her tongue suddenly like she was speaking Afrikaans.
"Do we need to listen to this shit while we're eating?" Roger Davies scoffed.
"He wants me to feed Mrs Norris and to bathe her in Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. It's in his desk drawer. He says he confiscated one from a Gryffindor girl just for Mrs Norris."
Lavender squealed. "That was mine! I thought Hermione stole it."
"I told you I didn't—" Hermione paused. "Not that this is real."
Luna flinched. "He says someone came into his office to steal his confiscated items, that he caught them—"
"She's disrespectin' the dead!" Flint snapped. "Someone put a silencing charm on the looney bitch, already!"
"Don't talk about her like that!" Ginny snapped, rage in her eyes. "She knows things! She's not a faker!"
Harry shifted uncomfortably — with a visage so angry, the licking flames of the fire reflected in her eyes, Ginny looked rather mad.
"I say let her continue." Daphne said smoothly, leaning on Neville, whose eyes were pleading with Harry to help him escape. "We don't usually get to study mental breakdowns."
Luna continued like she hadn't heard anything. "He's angry now, angry at his killer."
Ellie gasped. "Who did it?"
"He won't — can't tell me." Luna's brows furrowed. "Can't get the words out of his throat."
"Convenient." Hermione whispered.
"W-where is he?" Ellie asked.
"He's in a black void, a world of shadows. Wait, wait," Luna put a finger up to the air. "He's saying something. He's afraid. He never liked the dark."
"Knew it." Dean muttered.
Luna's eyes went wide and she stood up and pointed at Ron. Her bowl of stew clattered to the floor. When she spoke, it was not her voice, but Filch's. "Boy, I never liked you! It runs in the family!"
Ron squeaked.
Luna sat down like nothing had happened. She shivered and pouted at her bowl of stew on the floor. "Oh, pooh!"
There was a long moment of stunned silence.
Ellie clapped. "That was amazing!"
"The twins really tormented him, huh?" Hannah sighed.
"It was just our colour that he hated." Ron insisted.
"You really sounded like Filch." Dean admitted.
"Did I?" Luna said serenely. "I've never had one of them use my throat before."
The boys snickered. Hannah poked Harry in the side.
"Can he tell us who killed him? I can't stay in here again tomorrow," said Ellie.
Luna's eyes rolled back in her head. "He's losing energy…he doesn't seem to have much of it. My mother can talk to me for much longer." She quivered. "Tomorrow, he'll be able to tell me, I think."
"Well," Hermione pursed her lips. "That was just lovely and not inappropriate in any way."
"Thank you, Hermione." Luna said genuinely.
"I'm sure the Headmaster will let us out tomorrow." Harry told Ellie.
"I hope so. I'd kill for a shower." Parvati flinched. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I do." Daphne interjected, pulling her hair in front of her eyes. "This glitter is the worst — I've tried every charm."
Everyone grunted agreement — nobody had managed to get rid of Slughorn's glitter shower.
"I think it's time to get some sleep." Susan declared. "It's been a long day for everyone."
"It's still so early—" Harry cut himself off at Susan's look. "But we probably have classes tomorrow." He told the younger years. "Let's get to bed, already." He clapped his hands.
There were some grumbles but nobody wanted to argue with him.
It took a good hour to get everyone into their sleeping bags — the guys and girls changing behind their dividers, fights breaking out because people weren't sleeping near their friends, nobody wanting to sleep near the Slytherins.
"Enough!" Susan snapped. "No, Roger, you can't sleep naked, I don't care what you always do. No, Hannah, you can't share sleeping bags and yes, I know that the Carrow twins are doing it anyway. That's different." She threw her hands up in the air. "And for Merlin's sake, Romilda, you're in a sleeping bag, it doesn't matter that you're not wearing lingerie!"
The boys just snickered and watched — Susan was sexy when she was angry, especially with her tits jiggling in her nightie.
"And, no, Dennis, we're not sleeping with the lights on." She stomped her foot. "Enough talking, the next whiner gets a Stunner. Go to sleep."
Finally, there was silence, aside from the odd whisper and giggle. Even with everyone properly cowed into quiet by Susan, it wasn't easy for Harry to fall asleep. He was used to being wrapped around a warm body, his balls drained, falling into the sweet paradise of a post-fuck slumber.
The moon was too bright through the windows. There were too many sniffs and coughs and snores.
Worst of all, there was a killer in the room.
Even with all Harry's power, his knowledge, it wouldn't help him.
The clues were there, he told himself. Hermione had said it — every killer makes at least one mistake.
For the life of him, he couldn't find it though. Somewhere, not far from him, Ginny slept. Had he dismissed her as the killer just because he wanted her to be innocent?
A familiar smell of books. Hermione's hair brushed against his cheek. She yawned as she rested her head on his shoulder, her sleeping bag brushing against his. "Sleep, love." Her fingers curled through his hair. "We'll solve it in the morning." She said sleepily.
"I'm frustrated." He whispered.
"I know," she sighed. "Me too. But as soon as they let us out, you can fuck me in the shower, ok?"
"That's not what I…" It was too late. Hermione was snoring cutely into his ear.
Harry stared up at the ceiling. Even now, all these years later, it still enchanted him. It was the same feeling as the first time he'd stepped foot in here — that there was no ceiling there at all, just the boundless sky, that the hall simply opened upon the heavens.
But whereas once the starry sky had been a promise of all there was to explore, now it felt like the sky were about to crash down on him.
Harry closed his heavy eyes. Sleep came much later.
###
"Ugh, he's even cute when he's sleeping." Katie complained.
"Where's that Creevey boy? We could sell this to Witch Weekly." Lavender asked.
"Sell it to Skeeter instead for when she writes the classic hero's downfall she's clearly waiting for." Lisa Turpin advised. "Britain falls while Potter sleeps."
Harry groaned, holding his hand to block the light as he woke. His muscles ached. His balls ached.
There was no hot wet mouth sucking on him like most mornings, no pleasant bobbing to rouse him.
His eyes opened to the gaggle of amused girls.
"There he is. Sleeping beauty." Padma teased.
"Oh, bit of dribble, look." Lavender pointed.
"Wha'whas going on?" Harry said blearily. He could smell bacon.
Hermione poked him. "Mostly everyone's up already — we got bored after eating and decided to wake up all the lazy bones."
"I'm up, I'm up!" Ron shrieked. Seamus had plunged his hand into a glass of pumpkin juice.
"Don't you want food?" Dean snickered.
"I didn't sleep well." Ron grumped. "Too many dreams of ghostly Filch coming after me."
"It's so tough, being a minority," replied Dean dryly.
Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Didn't sleep well either?" Hermione said sympathetically.
Hannah was biting her lip, staring at his groin covered by the sleeping bag. Clearly, she thought all his ails could be milked away.
"Nobody got murdered, right?" Harry said, half-joking.
"No screams, no blood, no messages on the wall." Katie said. "We're good."
"Uh, guys." Michael Corner said nervously. "I…her eyes are open but Luna's not waking up."
"What?!" Harry jumped to his feet. Already, there was a crowd around the girl.
"She looks like normal."
"Her eyes aren't moving."
"I saw her like that in class."
"Maybe this is just how she sleeps, let me try something—"
"Don't kick her!"
Harry pushed through and knelt beside her. Luna stared up with her glassy protuberant eyes. He felt her neck and then her heart.
"She's alive." He announced, relief flooding through him. "But she's…"
"Petrified." Hermione finished, her face pale.
"No, no, no—" Ginny chanted, tears spilling down her face. She knelt at the side of her friend, taking her hand in her own.
Harry flinched — Ginny's fingernails were dirty, black powder on her tips, like the powder he'd found next to Filch.
"But how?" Ron exclaimed. "Harry killed the basilisk."
"You killed a basilisk?" Ellie wondered, but she was trembling.
He said nothing, his mind lost in thought. There were spells that could petrify, potions too. It had to be either of the two.
But the spell was rare, untaught, and the potion too. Dark Arts of the kind one wouldn't find just in the Restricted Section.
There weren't many wizards who'd know of them.
Lord Voldemort was one.
"Harry?" Susan said uncertainly. "W-what do we do?"
Harry took Luna's hand, a lump in his throat. The killer had enough confidence to step over the sleeping bodies, lit by the moonlight, and strike at Luna?
Mei Chang's interest was piqued. "The Weasley girl was sleeping right next to her. It would have been easy for her."
Harry ignored her, even though it was true.
As he held her hand, something fell into his palm from hers. A scrap of parchment. He leaned over her to hide himself from the watching eyes above as he unfurled it. It was a single sentence, written in barbecue sauce. All that glitters is not gold.
What did it mean? What was Luna trying to tell him?
"Luna spoke to the dead, yesterday." He said, voice raspy. "Some believe her, some think she's a fraud."
His heart beat fast. "It seems our killer did believe her, because they've silenced her."
He looked up at the faces above. Cold faces, solemn faces, fearful faces. All of them sparkled in the morning light, coated in Slughorn's glitter.
"Nobody leaves." He ordered. "Luna always wanted a friend and now she's got me."
One of those faces was the killer.
And he was going to find them.
The stakes are upped, but Harry's closing in. Do you know who the killer is? Next week, next Friday, next chapter - Detective Potter points the finger, but does he do it in time?
Want to read a few chaps ahead for the killer reveal, see the art of Lingerie Week and the girls Halloween costumes, and read a few chaps ahead, along with exclusive salacious artwork of Daphne, Hermione, Cho and more from this story, as well as fun little sexy story scenes? Check my profile bio.
Free no strings art on my X right now, link in bio. Fleur as a French maid, Helena and Cissy in lingerie together and Daphne in a teddy - don't miss it. Just a taste of the many more elsewhere.