By the time Harry and Tracey had left the library, it was already nearly ten minutes past when dinner was due to start. As a result, the corridors and stairs leading to the Great Hall were completely deserted, with what must have been close to the entirety of the school already enjoying their meal. Harry did not look forward to entering the Great Hall, for they would no doubt be the subject of many curious looks as a result of their tardiness.
Unexpectedly, when they turned the second-to-last corner before the Great Hall, they spotted Filch. The caretaker was leaning against the wall, standing incredibly still. Mrs Norris, who normally constantly circled about her owner's feet, was nowhere to be seen, something that struck Harry as rather odd. 'I hope he doesn't give us trouble for being late,' Tracey whispered as they walked down the corridor towards him.
'I doubt it,' Harry replied. 'We're not doing anything wrong.'
Just metres from where Filch was standing, Tracey suddenly stopped. A split second later, she let out a horrible gasp. 'Oh, the Creators!'
'What's going on?' Harry cried. He gave a flick of his wrist, and his wand was in his hand after barely a moment's delay.
He looked around, expecting to find anything from an abnormally large rat to a troll to Voldemort himself coming down the corridor. What he actually saw, however, was far more terrifying than any of those – save for perhaps Voldemort himself. On the wall right next to Filch were written the words 'Hnes Gizsdajlet Otgadajom szdec hestwokerkrityczalyje. Hworxis, sdrejut hnes Wjelkubsdene Slojxejancot!' in what looked horrifyingly like blood. The caretaker, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to this, his usual devotion to cleanliness and order seemingly completely forgotten.
'Mister Filch?' Harry breathed, his voice shaking. 'What's going on?'
Filch did not answer. In fact, he did not even give any acknowledgement of having heard Harry. 'Mister Filch?' Harry tried again, louder.
There was still no response. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and nudged Filch on the arm. To his horror, the caretaker's arm was solid under his fingers. Thinking that he might have mis-felt, he ran his hand down Filch's arm, finding it solid the whole way down to his hands, which were as cold as they were stiff and lifeless.
Harry's heart was in his throat, his blood ran cold, and his grip on his wand was so tight that his fingernails were hurting his palm. He jerked his gaze around the corridor, looking for any trace of who might have done this to Filch, but besides him and Tracey, the corridor was as empty as it had been when they had first arrived here.
'What's going on?' Tracey demanded, anxiety in her voice.
It took a moment for Harry to gather himself. 'Filch,' he answered. 'He's…solid.'
Tracey reached out her hand to touch Filch's. Barely a second after she had made contact, she yanked her hand back as if it had been burned. When Harry turned to her, she had a terrified look on her face.
'What happened to him?'
'I…I don't know,' Harry stammered.
'I need to get Dumbledore,' he said in a flash of decisive clarity before taking off down the corridor. 'Stay there with him!' he shouted over his shoulder to Tracey.
'What – '
'Just stay here!' he called.
Harry charged into the Great Hall. Ignoring the students around the other tables who were turning to look at him with curious glances – though he did slow down to a brisk walk in an attempt to reduce the number of eyes fixated on him – he headed straight for the Head Table. As he neared, Professor McGonagall stood up and descended towards him, stopping him several metres in front of Dumbledore.
'What is it, Mister Potter?'
'I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore,' Harry answered breathlessly.
McGonagall furrowed her brow. 'Is this urgent?'
Harry nodded. 'Very,' he said. 'Something happened.'
McGonagall stepped aside at once, and Harry dashed to Dumbledore. 'Headmaster, something's happened to Filch,' he told him frantically before Dumbledore even had a chance to acknowledge his presence.
'What has happened to Mister Filch?' Dumbledore asked.
'I…I don't know,' Harry replied. He swallowed to steady his voice. 'I saw him in the corridor before the Great Hall,' he recounted. 'He…he was leaning against the wall. He wasn't moving. I tried to nudge him but when I touched him, his arm was just…just hard. Like a statue. There was also something written on the wall behind him…it was in Eltrys, I think… I don't know what it says, but it looked like it was written in…in…in blood.'
Dumbledore's face immediately grew alarmed, and his eyes lost focus for a split-second before he regained his composure. 'Bring me to him,' he commanded, standing up. 'Minerva, come with me,' he ordered before turning towards the students around the House Tables.
'All students are to remain in the Great Hall until I explicitly announce that you are free to go,' he called. 'Prefects, you are to ensure that all your students are accounted for at all times. We may be dealing with an emergency. If any of you attempt to leave the Great Hall unauthorised, you may not only be risking severe discipline, but also your own safety.'
'Harry, let's go,' Dumbledore said quietly.
Briskly, Harry led Dumbledore and McGonagall out of the Great Hall and down the corridor through which he had come. When he turned the corner, he was relieved to see that Tracey was still there, untouched and well, but looking somehow frightened. Filch, too, was still leaning against the wall, still and unmoving as ever.
Harry pointed towards the caretaker's form. 'There.'
'Potter, you left Miss Davis all alone, when you knew something potentially dangerous was happening?' McGonagall demanded incredulously as they approached. 'Do you realise how irresponsible that was?'
Harry's heart suddenly skipped a beat. He had, in his rush to inform Dumbledore, completely neglected to think of Tracey. Thankfully, she was fine, but what if whatever had befallen Filch happened again, this time to Tracey? He wanted to slap himself – he should have thought before he, on impulse, ran off without her.
'Potter, you should know better than to run off like that,' McGonagall scolded, giving him a sharp and berating look. 'Miss Davis, are you all right?' she asked, anxiety in her voice.
Tracey nodded nervously. 'I'm f-fine,' she answered shakily. 'Mister Filch isn't, though.'
Dumbledore and McGonagall rushed over, and Tracey stepped back to allow them to take a closer look. McGonagall immediately drew her wand and began to examine Filch, while Dumbledore, standing just behind her, looked up at the writing on the wall.
'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened,' he breathed, reading out the message. 'Enemies, fear the Greatest's Heir.'
'The Chamber of Secrets…' he repeated under his breath, and his face suddenly grew inscrutable.
'The…what?' Harry asked.
Dumbledore did not reply, looking deep in thought as he continued to stare unmoving at the message on the wall. Several more times, he muttered the words 'Chamber of Secrets' and 'the Heir' quietly, as if trying to recall something or make some connection. Whatever he was thinking, though, he was not sharing with anyone, not even McGonagall.
'He's been petrified, Albus,' McGonagall finally broke the silence, stepping back from Filch.
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression still as unrevealing as ever. 'Bring him to the Hospital Wing, Minerva,' he said after a long minute of thought. 'There's not much Poppy will be able to do right now to reverse petrification, but until we are able to, Argus needs to receive proper care.'
McGonagall gave a short nod, raised her wand, and levitated Filch's form, carrying it in the direction of the Hospital Wing, leaving Dumbledore, Harry, and Tracey in the corridor. Dumbledore quickly returned to his silence with McGonagall's departure, and Harry, unsure what he should do, stayed right where he was, hoping also that Dumbledore might tell him something about what had happened.
'What do we do, Headmaster Dumbledore?' asked Tracey timidly at last.
Dumbledore took a long moment before he responded. 'You should return to the Great Hall and stay there until further instructions,' he replied. 'Harry, that goes for you, too. Do not, under any circumstances, go exploring. As I'm sure you can tell, we have a serious emergency. At the very least, the rest of the staff must be briefed, and appropriate measures be immediately implemented, before you will be allowed to return to your dormitories.'
'What happened to Filch?' Harry asked. 'Was he…'
'Mister Filch's life is not threatened,' Dumbledore answered. 'He has been petrified – magically frozen, turned to "stone", if you will. He is alive and will be for the foreseeable future. Petrification harms the body but has no power to sever it from the soul – no power to kill, in other terms.'
'You can cure him?'
Dumbledore nodded. 'Yes, but not in the immediate future. Petrification can be reversed by a potion, but the ingredients necessary to make it are, to use an understatement, rare. It will take much time – months, if we're lucky.'
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was not like he loved Filch or anything – he was sure that none of the students particularly liked him – but that did not mean that he at all wanted the man dead. 'What is this Chamber of Secrets that you were talking about?' he asked.
Dumbledore fell silent for what must have been a whole minute. 'The Chamber of Secrets…it is the subject of many legends and few facts,' he answered carefully. 'There is nothing I can tell you for certain. What I must tell you, however, is that you should not dally here any longer. Come, Harry, Miss Davis. I will bring you back to the Great Hall.'
He started walking at once, and Harry and Tracey followed him. As Harry walked, a sudden realisation – and fear – struck him. 'Could this have anything to do with the warning I got?' he asked Dumbledore in a quiet voice.
'It could, it could not,' Dumbledore replied. 'I can answer that question with as much certainty as I can tell you about the Chamber of Secrets. Whether it has to do with the warning or not, I think it should not be shocking for me to advise you that given what has happened, you – and all of us – will need to exercise, as an old friend of mine likes to say, "constant vigilance".'
The entirety of the Great Hall was waiting with anticipation for Dumbledore's return. Harry and Tracey made an attempt to slip back to their tables as discreetly as possible, but that proved to be a doomed endeavour right from the beginning, for there was no escaping the curious and simultaneously terrified gaze of the denizens of Hogwarts demanding answers.
Finally, Harry arrived at the Gryffindor table, taking a seat between Lavender and Neville, and immediately, he was swamped by questions. 'What happened?' Hermione demanded, leaning across the table.
'What's the emergency?' interrogated Dean.
'Does this have anything to do with…you know?' Neville asked, sounding concerned.
Dumbledore clapped his hands, and in barely an instant, the anxious chatter around the Great Hall fell silent as more than a hundred pairs of eyes fell on the Headmaster. 'I regret to inform you that a serious incident has occurred at Hogwarts,' he began.
Immediately, whispering broke out again around the room, but Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing them. 'Our caretaker, Mister Filch, has been seriously injured as a result of the incident. Thankfully, a preliminary examination has revealed that he is in stable condition and is expected to make a full recovery within a few months under the care of Madam Pomfrey. Please keep Mister Filch in your thoughts, and may Magic aid his speedy return to health.'
'As a result of this incident, several measures will immediately be taken at Hogwarts to hopefully prevent any repetition,' he continued. 'The left-hand-side corridor leading from the Great Hall to the staircases will be closed until we can be certain that the imminent danger no longer exists. All students must take the right-turn detour. Additionally, members of the Enforcement Patrol will be stationed at Hogwarts until further notice to lend help to the investigation and prevention efforts. Other measures may also be implemented, pending discussion with the staff.'
'I must emphasise that these measures have been instituted to protect you, the staff, and the castle,' Dumbledore said sternly. 'Please do not attempt to sneak into the closed corridor, nor do anything else that your common sense tells you that you should not do. I repeat what I said earlier: you will not only be risking severe disciplinary actions, but also the safety of yourself and everyone around you. Is this clear?'
'Yes, Professor Dumbledore,' the students chanted in unison.
'Thank you for your understanding,' Dumbledore said. 'Prefects, at the end of dinner, you are to lead your Houses back to your common rooms, where they are to stay for the rest of the night. You are to perform a head-count before you leave the Great Hall and after you arrive in the House common room. Once again, no students should leave their common rooms tonight except in the case of an immediate emergency. For those who would have needed to access resources to complete any assignments, I hereby instruct that teachers not collect any assignments that would have been due tomorrow. Your safety is the paramount concern.'
Dumbledore sat back down at the Head Table, and Harry wolfed down his dinner as quickly as possible. Just as he managed to finish the last of his meal, the call to leave the Great Hall was given, and Harry hastily joined the other Gryffindors getting in line. The two sixth-year Prefects walked down either side of the table, counting the number of students present and relaying it to the seventh-year Prefects at the head and tail of the table. With the seventh-year Prefects leading and bringing up the rear and the fifth- and sixth-years escorting the column on the side – all six with their wands out – the Gryffindors slowly made their way up the staircases to their common room.
Once inside, the Prefects performed yet another head count. After finding that everyone was accounted for, they magically locked the portal to the Gryffindor Common Room, shutting them in. 'Do not attempt to sneak out,' Percy warned the students. 'Any attempt to leave the Gryffindor Common Room tonight will be detected, and offenders will be quickly found and punished.'
'Even us?' the voice of Fred or George challenged from somewhere in the middle of the common room.
'Yes, George, even you,' Percy reprimanded. 'We've put the detection charms on tonight. If you try to sneak out, we'll find out immediately that you did and who you are, and you'll get far more than the slap on the wrist you get wandering the corridors after hours.'
After the Gryffindors slowly settled and Harry painstakingly liberated himself from the crowd trying to interrogate him about precisely what he had found in the corridor, he beckoned Hermione and Neville to one of their usual tables in a less-used corner of the Gryffindor Common Room. 'Are you going to tell us what happened?' Hermione asked immediately upon sitting down.
'I'll tell you what I know,' Harry responded quietly. 'Dumbledore didn't really tell me much. He doesn't seem to be very sure about anything, either. Or so he didn't seem to be…so…I don't know very much, either.'
Neville shrugged. 'What else is new? Just tell us what happened.'
For the next ten minutes, Harry narrated to Hermione and Neville what had happened. 'McGonagall said that Filch had been "petrified",' he said at the end of his recount. 'What does that mean?'
There was a short pause. 'Well, I think it's basically what Dumbledore said it was,' Neville answered, sounding somewhat uncertain in his own answer. 'I mean, I've heard it's really rare…but I've never heard of anyone getting petrified until Filch.'
'How do you get petrified?'
Silence. 'I don't know,' Neville answered. 'I…I mean, you obviously don't just randomly get petrified… If Dumbledore thought he needed to lock down all of Hogwarts because of Filch getting petrified, though…it'd probably have to be something seriously bad.'
'Maybe we should do some research about it,' Hermione suggested. 'It'd be useful to know what's – or who's – behind this, or at least how Filch got petrified. Dumbledore did tell you to be vigilant, after all, and if this really ends up having something to do with the "terrible things" Dobby warned you about, then it'd be good for us to find out more.'
'What if that just leads to another massive wild goose chase like last year?' Neville pointed out. 'It'd probably be more useful to practise spells, just in case we end up facing…whatever or whoever petrified Filch. It's not exactly a far-fetched possibility, considering…'
'A great deal of good that did for us last year,' Harry muttered. 'I didn't even get a chance to use anything we learned against Voldemort… It probably wouldn't have ended well for me even if I did, anyway. I mean, we're all still failing Lockhart's exercises despite all that practice. If we could find out more about what's going on, though…maybe that could actually help us.'
'It doesn't matter if we know all the spells in the world when we don't know what to do with them,' Hermione agreed. 'We'd probably be better off trying to figure out what's going on.'
'So…you're suggesting we shouldn't practise spells at all?' Neville protested.
'Well, we're practising in Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Harry said. 'That's been a lot more useful than anything we did last year by ourselves. We're actually learning how to defend against the dark arts and not just memorising spells out of a book.'
'Maybe we could ask Lockhart to teach us extra lessons?' Hermione mused. 'It'd still be nice to be able to do useful practise.'
'Lockhart doesn't seem like the type of person to want to give extra lessons,' Harry remarked, thinking of his rather indifferent attitude towards his classes and students.
'Well, it can't hurt to ask,' Hermione argued. 'It's worth a try. If he agrees, then great. If he doesn't…well…it's not like we'd be losing anything.'
'You can ask him,' Harry said. 'I doubt he'd agree, though.'
'That's why you should ask him,' Hermione replied, to which Harry gaped in disbelief. 'There'd be a better chance of him agreeing if you asked him,' she pointed out. 'You're the best in Defence by a good margin. You have a better chance of getting him to help than anyone else.'
'I don't know how much difference that would make. He doesn't seem to care about anything that has anything to do with teaching.'
'Well, you should try anyway,' Hermione insisted with a measure of finality. 'If you don't ask at all, then you're basically accepting a "no" for an answer. If this whole thing is as serious as Dumbledore makes it out to be…should we not be doing everything we can that could help ourselves?'
The most noticeable change at Hogwarts the next morning was the arrival of the Enforcement Patrol. There must have been at least thirty or forty of them, for there seemed to be one posted around just about every second turn, all of whom were easily distinguished by their grey robes. They kept to themselves, patrolling in groups of two or three around the castle, or standing guard around important locations like outside the Great Hall or the entrance to the left-hand corridor out from the Great Hall, where – Harry assumed – some sort of investigation into what had happened was taking place. Never did they seem to acknowledge the students, and the only conversation Harry ever saw one of them have was with Professor McGonagall, as she was directing a group of them to their stations in the morning.
Another suspicious incident along the lines of what had befallen Dean and Justin occurred that morning in History of Magic, this time to Ron. The previous week, Professor Ross had asked the class to put together and present reports on the different causes of the Great Continental War of 1942. Ron had been assigned to present a report on the Bulgarian Question – the dispute between the Ottomans, Austrians, and Russians over influence in Bulgaria which was eventually exploited by Grindelwald to come to power in Austria – but when he went up to present, he suddenly found himself at a loss for words, despite having his prepared script – written late the previous night and early that morning – right in front of him.
'Mister Weasley, we're waiting for you to begin,' Professor Ross said as Ron's silence stretched into its second minute.
Ron opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again. He looked up at Professor Ross, then back down, then back up. 'Is there a problem, Mister Weasley?'
'I…I swear this wasn't on purpose,' Ron said feebly.
'What wasn't on purpose?'
'Th-This,' Ron floundered, pointing at the piece of parchment on the table.
Ross rose and walked to him, a look of confusion on her face. She picked up the parchment, furrowed her brows, and started to read. 'My mother gave me the nickname "Won-Won" because she – '
Abruptly, she stopped. After taking a second to realise what was happening, the class, especially the Slytherins, erupted in laughter – though even many of the Gryffindors joined in, none feeling sympathetic enough to Ron, who had always been known to be a freeloader when it came to his work, to hold themselves back from laughing at his misfortune. The only ones visibly angered by the prank were, predictably, his friends Raul and Sally-Anne.
Hermione also seemed somewhat indignant, though not out of a sense of pity for Ron. 'Whoever's been pulling these pranks should really stop messing with people's studying,' she huffed. 'Sure, it's not like Ron's exactly studious, but can't people find, I don't know, better things to prank?'
'I doubt Ron's actual report would've been much of an improvement,' Harry noted, holding back a grin.
'It'd definitely have been better than being about his mum giving him a nickname.'
'Quit it with the laughing!' Professor Ross shouted, sounding annoyed. The sounds of laughter around the room died at once, though many were still hysterical, trying their best to hold in their guffaws behind their hands.
Ross turned to Ron. 'No, I don't think you could've done this on purpose,' she said to him consolingly. 'You can re-do it for the next class. Try to keep a better eye on your things this time.'
Thoroughly humiliated despite getting a second chance at his assignment, Ron shuffled back to his seat, face red and staring at his feet. Many looked like they wanted to burst out in laughter again, but Professor Ross gave a sweeping, withering look, and all except one or two, who let out brief giggles, managed to hold it in.
The measures enacted in response to Filch's petrification, meanwhile, did not stop at a corridor closure and Patrollers in Hogwarts. 'Starting from tonight, there will be a curfew in place from nine in the evening for first- through third-years, and ten for fourth- through seventh, until six in the morning,' Dumbledore announced that day at lunch.
There was a spate of groaning from the gathered students. At the Gryffindor table, Fred Weasley stood up and shook his fist in the air. 'Ten?' he balked. 'Why so early? That's when the fun's just beginning!'
Dumbledore held up his hand to quieten the room. 'Perhaps fun for you, Messer Weasley, but not many others were very thrilled when they were forced to clean up the butterbeer bottles from your last stunt,' he reprimanded. 'The curfew is intended to clear all students from the corridors at times when few students would be in the corridors anyway. This way, we hope to lower the probability of an isolated student being in trouble and far away from other students' or Patrollers' attention and help during these hours.'
'What about Astronomy practicals?' someone shouted from the Ravenclaw table.
'Astronomy practicals will continue, but all students will be escorted to and from their dormitories by Professor Sinistra and Patrollers, and may not make detours between dormitory and lesson,' Dumbledore answered. 'Other students who have a reason to be out of their dormitories after their curfew time must receive approval from myself or Professor McGonagall, and be escorted to and from their destinations by Patrollers.'
'What about clubs?' someone demanded. 'Will we get approval for Duelling Enthusiasts' Club?'
Dumbledore shook his head. 'Clubs which have meetings after the curfew time should move or cancel them.'
'But all the Duelling League tournaments are late at night!'
'No exception will be made for clubs,' Dumbledore reiterated. 'I understand that this will be extremely inconvenient for many of you,' he added. 'However, I implore you to not attempt to skirt these rules for any reason. They have been put in place in order to keep you safe from a possible repeat of an incident whose cause we do not yet understand. Breaking these rules may also cause unneeded work for the staff and Patrollers, which, if an emergency does occur, may result in help being delayed. Please think before you act recklessly.'
Ron, for one, did not appear to take this last bit of advice to heart, though in his case, it was not in relation to the curfew. Immediately after lunch ended, he accosted Ginny outside the Great Hall. 'What the bloody hell are you playing at?' he demanded.
Ginny took a step back. 'What're you talking about?' she asked after a pause, sounding stunned and a little scared, clutching a small, elegant leather-bound notebook tightly in front of her chest.
'You know what I'm talking about,' Ron snapped. 'Why did you do that to me?'
'D-Do what to you?' Ginny asked, trembling a little.
'Stop pretending you don't know!' Ron growled. 'You or one of your little Slytherin "friends" switched out my report for History of Magic for some rubbish about mum giving me a nickname and made a fool of me in front of the entire school! Is that what you do to your own brother?'
Ginny blinked. 'Wh-What? I didn't do any such thing. I was in class all morning. How would I have been able to – '
'You always hang around that Greengrass,' Ron interrupted, furious. 'You planned something with her and had her sister pull it off, didn't you?'
'I…why would I want to do that?' Ginny asked. 'And why're you making such a big deal about this? It sounds like it was just a prank,' she added, somewhat defensively.
That tone, however, seemed to have struck the wrong chord with Ron, who appeared to take it as a confirmation of Ginny's involvement. 'Why am I making such a big deal about this?' he screeched. 'You're conspiring against your brother! You and your Slytherin friends, you're making me look like an airhead in front of the entire school!'
'Not like he needs Ginny to accomplish that,' Seamus remarked out of the corner of his mouth, a statement to which Dean nodded his agreement.
There was another odd pause as Ginny mulled over what she wanted to say. 'I had nothing to do with it!' she insisted, clutching the leather notebook even harder. 'And if you really cared so much about not looking stupid, maybe you shouldn't be accusing me of things I didn't do in front of your entire House!'
Harry thought that Ginny had quite the good point, something Dean and Neville seemed also to think, the two of them exchanging a look and a shrug. Ron must have thought so, too, whether he knew it or not, though his reaction to this realisation was far more explosive. 'Better this than to let you keep dragging our family into a pit!' he shouted, face glowing as red as a tomato. 'Herbert and his snakes of Slytherin friends lost all of our family's money, and you…you…you're going to lose all our family's respect – as if we even had much to begin with! No, Ginny, I don't want that to happen to me! What happened to what you promised Percy, about being careful with the Slytherins? Have you forgotten that already? Have Greengrass and Flint already made you – '
'Quit it, Ron!' Percy's voice suddenly sounded over the heads of the Gryffindors gathered to watch the commotion. He pushed through the crowd to reach Ron, whose mouth was still open, as if Percy had just hit 'pause' on his tirade. Ginny was still clutching her notebook, but the sight of Percy seemed to relieve her, and the expression on her face looked a little more at ease.
'Why are you here arguing with your sister instead of going to class?' he questioned sternly.
Ron seemed to wither a little under Percy's glare. 'Ginny pranked me,' he replied, more quietly than Harry would have expected.
Percy nodded slowly. 'A great reason to be not going to class and causing a hold-up in the corridors,' he said. 'Ten points from Gryffindor, Ron.'
'You're taking points from your own brother and helping – '
'I'm a Prefect, Ron,' Percy interrupted shortly. 'I must be fair to everyone. You broke school rules, therefore I must take points.'
'But Ginny – '
' – is innocent until you can prove her guilty,' Percy supplied. 'I heard about what happened in History of Magic today. There's no evidence at all pointing at Ginny. No, Ron, your hunch doesn't count. So I suggest you stop harassing your sister and let her go to class.'
Percy turned around to look at the Gryffindors, waving his hand as if shooing them. 'And all of you, too, stop loitering and go to class.'
Ginny made a quick exit, and the Gryffindors also began to disperse, but Ron still held a weakly defiant look on his face, as if wanting to argue with his brother over the points he had just lost or being told to leave. Percy, however, shut down any argument he could have made before he made it. 'That includes you, too, Ron,' he ordered in a tone that made clear that any squabbling would lose Gryffindor yet more House Points. 'Don't think this conversation is over. We're going to have a chat with Fred, George, and Ginny tonight about your behaviour.'
Ron glared daggers at his brother, but even he knew that any fight he attempted to pick now would be lost. Having no other options, he turned around on his heels and stomped away ahead of the main pack of Gryffindors in the direction of Finding Magic.
Once the initial shock of what had happened on Halloween and the changes at Hogwarts had ebbed, the rumour mill that was Hogwarts returned to work quickly. Soon enough, wild, absurd, and even comical speculation about what had happened began to circulate. Students, caught up in the mixed anxiety and hilarity, also divided themselves into camps based on the theory in which they believed. By far the theory which had the most following was the one that the incident had been one of the Weasley twins' and Lee's practical jokes gone wrong, with Filch being caught at the wrong place at the wrong time – there was no doubt in Harry's mind that the theory had been started and encouraged by Fred, George, and Lee themselves, perhaps in an attempt to boost their reputations. Many – including, obviously, Harry and his friends – thought it ridiculous. Fred, George, and Lee liked to have fun and play dumb pranks on people, but Harry could not imagine them doing something they had to know was dangerous. Plus, the majority of their pranks were limited to the Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. It did not seem like them to suddenly decide to pull something on the whole school. Logic did not stop people from believing in the theory, however, and the infamous trio were certainly relishing in their newfound cult status, something no doubt spurred on by the recent spate of mysterious pranks, which many – probably with good reason – suspected were related to them.
The rumours did not live for long, however, for they were quickly cracked down upon. 'While it may be fun and comforting to indulge in tales, this must cease at once,' Dumbledore demanded at breakfast that Friday, his tone far more severe than usual. 'Mister Filch's injury is a serious matter, and it is quite disrespectful to be making light of it in such a manner. More importantly, as this matter is still being actively investigated, spreading such rumours risks obscuring actual information that might be important, something that could potentially put someone unnecessarily in danger.'
Despite the curfew, Harry's Mind Arts lessons continued, enabled by the granting to him of an exemption barely an hour after the curfew was announced. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night, Harry would meet a Patroller right outside the Gryffindor Common Room, who would then escort him – in, without exception, utter silence – to the dungeons. After the ninety minutes were over, the same Patroller would bring him back to Gryffindor Tower without a word.
Progress in the Mind Arts was as elusive as ever. Despite several weeks of nonstop practice, Harry did not feel that he was very much closer to the end objective of even this first exercise than he had been at the beginning. At the very least, he seemed now able to fully clear his mind of thoughts, if only for short stretches, each of which was broken by his fruitless attempts to search for his transcendental energy.
Snape was surprisingly patient with his slow progress in Mind Arts – though that patience did not extend to any other mistake he made in his presence, no matter how small – and even offered constructive and useful advice that were more than 'read the book and do it again properly' – his favoured response to Harry's questions in Potions. 'Stop looking for transcendental energy,' he told Harry when he informed him of his failures. 'If you attempt to learn the Mind Arts by chasing after them, you're doomed to failure. You must learn to be patient enough to enter a state where your transcendental energy comes to you.'
Despite this advice, there was no breakthrough – not that Harry expected one in any way – and the tedious toil that were the Mind Arts continued the same as ever. 'You should be happy you're now able to clear your mind at all,' Hermione told him, with a small tinge of jealousy in her voice. 'I haven't been able to get anywhere near that yet. Granted, maybe it's because I don't have a teacher, but anyway, you're still making progress.'
Harry had also caved to Hermione's pressuring and asked Lockhart whether he would be able to offer them extra lessons. The response he had received was exactly how Harry had anticipated Lockhart would react, and he was unsure what else Hermione could possibly have expected, knowing his character.
'What you learn in this class is appropriate for your level,' he had responded when Harry had asked. 'It's pointless to take extra lessons beyond it. There's no good in attempting to learn things you're not ready for, and out of context.'
'Plus, I don't have time right now to give extra lessons,' he added, sounding annoyed, betraying some of his true reasons behind turning down Harry's request.
'Maybe I should ask him myself, then,' Hermione said when Harry told her of Lockhart's refusal.
Harry sighed and shook his head. 'Don't do that,' he pleaded. 'He won't agree.'
'But – '
'I think he was pretty clear that he didn't want to,' Harry interrupted. 'Let's not keep nagging him about it and making him more irritated.'
Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'Do you not care about practising defence?'
'I do, but we're not going to get it from him,' Harry rebutted. 'He sounded annoyed when I asked him about it. I doubt he'd want to do it any more if you asked him.'
'Maybe we'll get second-time lucky if I ask him again,' Hermione told him defiantly, and Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. He did not try again to stop her, though, not wishing to get into an argument with a Hermione who had obviously already made up her mind, thinking that she would simply have to see his point on her own.
Harry was, therefore, completely unsurprised when Hermione received a 'no' for herself Friday afternoon. 'Okay, that's out, then,' she said to him and Neville after receiving her rejection, as if that had not been a known fact since yesterday – or rather, even since when Hermione had first proposed the idea. 'Well, fine, if we can't get extra practice with Lockhart, then we should spend our time finding out more about what's happening. We haven't done any research since Halloween, even though we agreed we would.'
Though Harry would much have liked to rest that Friday evening, he instead spent much of it in the library, looking through stacks of books. It reminded him eerily of last year, with their search for information about the Philosopher's Stone, among other things. Quickly, it became clear to Harry that their progress, too, seemed like it was to echo that of the year prior. They had guessed that, based on context, the 'Chamber of Secrets' would have had something to do with history, probably that of Hogwarts itself, but in none of the books they looked through could they find any hint of the term.
'What if it doesn't have to do with Hogwarts?' Harry asked as he browsed through the index of what must have been their fiftieth or sixtieth book. 'Or with history, for that matter?'
'What else could it be about?' Hermione questioned in return. 'Herbology? Maybe it just hasn't shown up yet. It's not like we've come even close to going through the whole history section yet.'
Neville, who had been tasked with finding out more about petrification, was finding similarly little available information. He only managed to find the term once – in a book titled Rare Maladies – but the information the book gave, though informative, was not exactly clear, either.
'Several exceedingly rare phenomena can cause the condition known as "petrification",' he read aloud. 'These include alchemical accidents – see Flamel's 1419 work for specifics – encounters with certain species of beasts, as well as, according to rumour, several ancient, extremely terrible spells, the knowledge of which is so obscure that they may, indeed, have been long forgotten. Once petrified, the victim is turned to stone, and he is held in that state indefinitely. A petrified person cannot die as a direct result of the spell, but sufficient damage to the petrified body will prove fatal, while even minor damage is irreversible to all known healing magics – for more on spell-induced petrification and effects of physical damage on the petrified form, see Bensaïd's 1721 work, Analysis of Petrification in Nile Tombs. The only known counter to petrification is a potion, the details of which this text will leave out for the sake of brevity. Nyako's 1701 work Survey of Known Potion Antidotes to Uncommon Conditions gives a well-explained and technically detailed exhibition for the interested and well-versed reader. The relevant description and formula can be found in Chapter Seven of MacTavish's 1793 translation from the French of Navarro's 1788 translation from the 1746 Arabic translation by Bensaïd from the Fulani original.'
It took all three of them a few moments to parse what they had just heard. 'Well, I doubt it was an alchemical accident,' Neville remarked. 'Filch isn't very well-versed in even regular magic. It doesn't seem very likely that he'd be attempting alchemy.'
'What if someone force-fed him a botched elixir?' Harry suggested.
'I guess it's possible…but why would someone do that to Filch?' Hermione pondered. 'He's just a caretaker, it's not like he's a threat to anyone. Plus, the message told the "enemies" to "fear". Force-feeding a purposefully botched elixir…well, compared to things like dragons or manticores or serious dark magic, it's just not scary.'
'Like I said, I really doubt it had anything to do with alchemy,' Neville said. 'Personally, I think someone might've cursed him. It doesn't really make sense for a giant beast to be moving around inside Hogwarts, petrifying people, without anyone noticing it. A spell…well, anyone could've snuck in, cast the spell, and then escaped.'
'Or maybe, blended right back in with the other students,' Harry suggested sinisterly.
Neville pondered this for a few moments. 'Yeah, maybe that too,' he said, but he sounded sceptical. 'It was probably an adult, though. It must've been a really, really dark spell that did this, and these spells…you don't just learn them overnight. Whoever cast this spell had to have been a very practised dark wizard.'
'How would a dark wizard manage to sneak into Hogwarts, though?'
'People come in and out of Hogwarts all the time,' Neville replied. 'Gran comes several times a year to chat with Dumbledore. There're also always guests of teachers, visitors from other schools, and a lot of others. It wouldn't exactly be too difficult to slip in without anyone suspecting, cast the spell, and then leave. The best part, of course, is that Filch won't be able to tell anyone what happened to him until he's un-petrified, which could take months, so the attacker could in theory completely get away with it, at least for a while.'
Harry nodded solemnly, the knowledge that Hogwarts was in fact not so insular giving him a suddenly increased sense of insecurity despite the presence of Dumbledore and the Patrollers. He could not help but shiver a little. 'Why, though?' he asked, trying to distract himself with productive thought which, he rationalised, may at least lead them to some kind of comforting conclusion. 'Why would the attacker attack Filch? And what would some petrifying curse – or any of this – have to do with the Chamber of Secrets…whatever that is?'
'Whoever the attacker was, he or she probably wanted to make an example to get their threat across, and Filch was probably the easiest target – or the first one found,' Hermione answered. 'As for what any of this has to do with the Chamber of Secrets…well, you know about as much as we do, which is to say, nothing.'
