As September turned to October, the weather took a turn for the worse. Gone were the clear, if cold, days and in came thunderous rain that hammered endlessly against the castle windows. A fierce, bone-cutting wind howled both day and night and even the fires that burned in every room couldn't keep the cold out. Even with so many candles lit, the castle was in a near constant gloom.
It was a Friday evening that the portrait swung open to admit Hazel and her class to the Gryffindor common room. Romilda was the first through and the angry red glow of her cheeks was visible through the thick mud that coated her from head to toe.
"Colin Creevey, I hate you!" She wailed as she stormed for the dormitories. Everyone else watched her go.
"Don't worry, Colin," said Ginny whose hair had stuck down her back. Her ears had gone a little pink, "She'll be fine."
Colin nodded and headed for the dormitories along with Ginny. He left a thick trail of damp carpet in his wake as he headed for the stairs.
"Bloody hell," Ron was sitting at a table nearby with Harry and Hermione, their homework spread out before them, "Did you go for a swim in the lake?"
"Flying lesson," Hazel's teeth chattered furiously.
Harry nodded sympathetically but Ron laughed out loud, "You were out flying in that?"
She'd wrapped her arms around herself so tightly that they were starting to hurt. It wasn't helping much, all it seemed to be doing was squeezing the water out of her top and against her skin. She nodded in reply and a length of limp, damp hair slapped her in the face. Ow.
Hermione tutted, "They should really have cancelled it."
"What on earth for?" Ron asked.
"Because it's dangerous?"
Harry chuckled, "It's not that bad really."
"Oh, is it not?" Hazel was trying to pull the hair out of her eyes with frozen blocks for fingers. If he tried to pass this off as no big deal…
"Yeah, wizards don't cancel flying for something as small as a thunderstorm."
She knew it. He always did this. Even when she'd scraped her knee in school, Harry would look at it and say, 'yeah, it's not that bad'.
Not this time!
"Well, you must bring a book to training in the morning then, seeing as the thunderstorm won't be a problem."
Ron sniggered as Harry's face fell.
Ha!
"What happened with those two?" he nodded his head towards the stairs.
"Colin kicked off the ground too hard," said Hazel, "Knocked Romilda off her broom in the wind."
Hermione shook her head, "The mud probably broke her fall. She was very lucky it was there."
"Oh yeah," Ron said seriously, "She looked thrilled."
Hazel sat at the desk. There was no point in going up yet, Romilda was going to be in the bathroom for hours and the heat from the fire was absolutely wonderful. She could actually feel her fingertips again! She kicked off her shoes and water poured onto the carpet. Hermione hurriedly pulled her parchment away from the waterdrops that fell on the table.
"What is it you're doing?" she asked Harry.
"Potions," He pulled a face.
"Is it good?"
"Fantastic," Ron groaned.
"It's actually very interesting! We're building on the foundations of last year's work, so we're adding complexity into the base potions we already know how to make. This is particularly fascinating, Professor Snape has asked us to write an essay on why the frog's livers need to be pickled for the Manducare family of potions and why it is that-"
Ron interrupted her with a loud and deliberate yawn. Hermione fixed him with a look and turned her nose up.
"Is Snape still leaving you alone?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," She couldn't meet his eyes, "He is."
"I still don't get what his game is," Ron said, "He's such a greasy, great git to everyone else. Why not you?"
"Maybe," Hermione still seemed annoyed, "It's because Hazel's not done anything to get on his bad side?"
"But Harry didn't either and he couldn't wait to get stuck into him!"
"I'm glad," Harry said, silencing both his friends, "Glad he's not bullying you, that is."
He meant it, she could tell he did, but it didn't stop the guilt welling up in her. It was worse because she didn't understand what she'd done differently to Harry. Dumbledore had told Harry that Snape hated him because of his dad. Didn't Snape realise they had the same dad? Why did he make her brother's life a misery when he was so happy to leave her alone?
"At least it'll be Halloween soon," Hermione said, "The feast is always brilliant."
"And hopefully with less trolls than last year," Ron muttered, "I'd like to make it to pudding this time."
They were distracted by a commotion in the centre of the Common Room. Fred and George were using their wands to throw paper balls into the fire and as each landed it burst like a firework and emitted random noises. The worry of Snape disappeared in fits of giggles at the sight of Percy trying to make himself heard over a loud and rude-sounding tuba.
The weather did not improve as Halloween got closer. In fact, it grew stormier and stormier with the rain replaced by a freezing sleet that numbed exposed skin in just seconds. The walk to Herbology had turned into an assault course of mud and bone-cutting wind. Hazel had taken to wearing every top she owned, plus one of Ginny's, to try and keep warm in the greenhouses but it was no use. What she wouldn't have given just to have one fire, but Professor Sprout seemed perfectly happy with the windows frosting up from the inside. Maybe she just wanted to see how long it would be before she turned into an ice cube?
Herbology wasn't great, but Defence against the Dark Arts was worse.
"This is so stupid!" Even though she was standing right beside her, Ginny could barely be hard over the howling wind. There's no hope of finding pixies!"
"What?" Colin was just a few feet away but almost completely hidden in darkness.
"No pixie's stupid enough to be out in this!"
"What?"
"This is a complete waste of time!"
Hazel wanted to say about how Professor Lockhart clearly knew what he was doing, that a man of his experience and skill wouldn't have sent them out here for no good reason.
She wanted to, but her jaw had gone numb from cold.
"Come on!" Ginny grabbed her by the sleeve and grabbed the back of Colin's hood, blown open in the wind, "We're going to Hagrid's!"
"Won't we be in trouble?" Colin shouted.
"We stay out here any longer and we'll be in Wales, nevermind trouble!"
They fought their way to Hagrid's hut with its inviting, glowing windows. They were practically bent double to make any progress in the wind, feet squelching with every step. It felt like her very soul was freezing over.
"Wha' the ruddy 'ell are ye lo' doin' ou'side?" Hagrid asked when he finally answered Ginny pounding on his door, "Come in!"
They piled through the door. It was gloriously warm in the cabin. Hagrid soon had three steaming mugs of tea in front of them and a pile of blankets wrapped around their shoulders. Fang trotted over from Hagrid's bed and placed his head on Hazel's knee, whining happily as she scratched behind his ear.
"You lo' los' yer senses?" Hagrid shook his massive head, "Goin' out in this? It's madness."
"It was Lockhart's idea!" Ginny held her mug in both hands. The contents were splashing alarmingly she was shaking so much.
"Lockhart? Wha's tha' moron up to now?"
"He's not a moron!" Hazel said through chattering teeth. The robes sticking to her skin felt horrible, the bun she'd tied her hair looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge and her fingers were tingling unpleasantly in the cold. She was shaking so much it actually hurt.
"We're looking for pixies!" said Colin, whose nose was bright pink.
"Pixies?" Hagrid barked with laughter, "Ain' no pixies around 'ere! They'll 'ave been blown back to Cornwall by now. 'ere, ge' closer to the fire, you lo'. Tha's it."
She never wanted to leave this chair. The fire was so warm and the chair so comfortable. Even so, she had to put Hagrid right.
"Professor Lockhart said it would help build our tracking skills. He said it would come in handy."
"course he did," Hagrid scoffed, "'eard him this mornin', complainin' 'bout his hair."
"That's not fair," How could Hagrid say something like that? Professor Lockhart had saved countless villages from zombies! He'd jumped in front of a werewolf to save a man he'd never met! There was no way he'd send them outside just so he could do his hair.
"How's yer firs' few weeks been?" Hagrid placed a plate of rock cakes in front of them, which Hazel quietly ignored. Harry's warnings had been enough for her, "I 'eard you go' into a bi' of a scrap."
"Me?" She had to think, "You mean with the Ravenclaw boy?"
"Aye, 'eard it could'a got nasty. I warned ya abou' them Malfoys back in the summer."
"Cooper was picking on her, not the other way around," Hazel said.
"Only because Malfoy was picking on him first," Ginny added.
"Yer bes' off stayin' away from the lot of 'em. I see the girl walking the grounds for hours. Tried talkin' to her once and the look she had," Hagrid shook his head, "She doesn' want anythin' to do wit' the likes of us."
There was an uncomfortable knot in her stomach. She had an idea of how Atia Malfoy felt; she spent all her time outside because it was away from the misery, from the fear, the dark glances and hurtful mutterings. She stayed away because there was nowhere else she belonged.
It was exactly how Hazel had felt all last year, why she had spent every waking moment away from her aunt and uncle, dreading when she'd have to back in the evening. Did Atia Malfoy really feel about Hogwarts the same way she had about Privet Drive?
She wouldn't want her worst enemy to feel that.
"Come on," Hagrid glanced at his watch and stood up, "Yer class will be over righ' abou' now. I'll walk you up to the castle."
The thoughts of going outside very quickly put Atia Malfoy out of her mind. She pulled her coat up so it covered her nose.
The inevitable happened over the next few days. Hazel woke up one morning with a thumping head and a nose like a leaking tap. Ginny wasn't much better. Her nose was the same colour as her vivid red hair.
"You need go to Madame Pomfrey," said Romilda cheerfully, "Both of you. I don't want whatever you've got."
"Everyone has the same thing from Lockhart's class," Ginny sounded like she'd an orange stuck in her throat.
"Not me!"
"How did you get away with it?"
Romilda scoffed, "You think I was stupid enough to go outside in that? Think what it would have done to my complexion. I'll see you at breakfast!"
Ginny scowled at Romilda's back as she left.
"Shall we go?" Hazel asked. It felt like she had a razor blade stuck in her throat.
"Give me a second," Ginny was writing in a black book, "Just finishing this."
"Updating your diary?"
"Yeah, nearly done."
"You've been writing for ages!"
"That's because this diary can do something really cool! You want to see?"
Hazel sat beside Ginny on the bed. The open pages of the diary were completely blank.
"Plenty to say today?"
Ginny gave her a look and gave her a quill.
"Write your name."
"What?"
"Just write your name. Trust me."
This was stupid. What was Ginny expecting to happen?
Still, she looked so eager that Hazel dipped her ink in the pot and wrote on the mouldy paper:
My name is Hazel Potter.
For a minute, nothing happened. What exactly was she expecting to happen? The diary was hardly going to sing to her, was it?
Wait…
Was the ink on the page was disappearing? It was like it was melting into the paper. Was that supposed to happen? Ginny didn't look too worried so it must be right?
To her amazement, ink began leaking out of the page and forming entirely new words:
Hello Hazel Potter. My name is Tom. It's nice to meet you.
"Isn't it amazing?" Ginny beamed.
It definitely was, a diary that wrote back was the best idea ever, "Where did you get it?"
"Mum and dad got it for me in Diagon Alley. I guess they thought it would help in my first year."
"Did you call it Tom?"
"No, he was already called Tom. Maybe an old owner gave him that name or something. He won't tell me anything about who owned him before."
"He?"
"Sorry, it. It's hard when you've talked to it so much."
The writing had faded, and the page was blank once again. Hazel dipped her quill back into the ink.
It's very nice to meet you too, Tom. You're very polite for a diary.
The ink faded and Tom replied in a few moments,
Good manners cost nothing. Ginny tells me you're her best friend. She thinks very highly of you.
Ginny's ears went pink, "I think that's enough with Tom now. We need to get to the Hospital Wing before class or it's going to be hell."
"Okay, do I write goodbye?"
"I always do."
Hazel dipped the quill a final time,
We have to go to class now, but it was nice speaking with you.
It was lovely to speak with you too, Hazel. Perhaps we'll speak again soon.
Madame Pomfrey was not impressed by the pair.
"More Gryffindor first years?" She sighed and shook her head, "Very well. Come alone."
She gave them a bright green potion that Hazel expected to taste like lime. It did not. It tasted like…something. A mixture of carrot and grass. It wasn't at all pleasant.
What was worse was that nothing seemed to get rid of the taste. She tried bubble gum, she tried pumpkin juice, she tried ketchup, and she tried chocolate frogs. She even tried a cup of Romilda's peppermint tree, which was so strong it was like drinking paint stripper. None of it worked. On top of that, she kept getting hot flushes and smoke poured out of her ears every time. It was a nightmare. At least Fred and George hadn't chased her around the common room all afternoon with a bucket like they had with Ginny.
At least tonight was the Halloween feast. That would make up for what had been an absolutely horrible day.
"Are you taking your hat off?" Ginny asked.
"No," She had been wearing the pointy hat all day. The rim was wide enough to go over her ears and hide the smoke.
"It looks good!" Colin said eagerly, "You look like a witch!"
They had joined the rest of Gryffindor house as they headed to the Great Hall. The corridor was filled with excited chatter.
"Hey! Hazel!" Harry dodged through the crowd to catch up with them. Ginny walked on hurriedly, "How's your ears?"
"Can you still see the smoke?" She pressed the rim of the hat against her head.
"Not really, it doesn't look like your head's on fire anymore. More like a candle."
"Oh, leave her alone, Harry," Hermione and Ron had joined them, "It looks fine, Hazel. Though I think your hat might be a bit big for you."
"Hey!" Harry said, "That's mine! Where's your hat?"
"Mine doesn't cover my ears!"
"Are you saying I have a big head?"
"Ah," said Ron, "It's like being at home."
"Hey Harry!" Colin interrupted.
"Hi Colin," Harry said a little wearily. Colin seemed to say that to him at least ten times a day, and that was only when she was around. Not that she was complaining about the distraction. She needed this hat.
"Are you looking forward to the feast, Harry?" Colin asked excitedly, "Is it true you fought a troll last year, Harry? Did you beat it with magic?"
"Excuse me," Ron scowled, "I was the one who beat the troll. Harry just sat on his shoulders and distracted it."
"Wow! You sat on it's shoulders Harry? That's amazing! It's so brave of you!"
"Are you still going to Nearly Headless Nick's party then?" She said it quickly as Ron's ears were going red like Ginny's did when she was getting annoyed.
Harry nodded glumly, "I'm sure it'll be great. Just, a Deathday Party isn't what I had in mind on Halloween Night."
"I think it's going to fascinating," Hermione said, "We might be the only students in the school ever to be invited to one!"
"Wonder why," Ron muttered.
"Well, enjoy. I'll save you some cake," They had reached the Great Hall, and she gave Harry a smile, "A thank you for letting me borrow your hat."
He grinned back as he, Ron and Hermione headed for the dungeons.
The Great Hall had been transformed since lunch. There were cobwebs hanging between the floating candles and live bats fluttered through the hall. Jack-o-lanterns the size of houses sat around the hall and glowed like bonfires.
"Wow!" Colin said.
"Wow," She had to agree.
"'ello you lot," Hagrid walked up behind with his chest puffed out proudly, "Admirin' my pumpkins?"
"They're incredible, Hagrid," she said, "How did you get them so large?"
His eyes twinkled as he tapped his nose, "Ah, tha's my secret. No 'arry?"
"He's going to the dungeons tonight."
"No' bein' punished, is he?"
"He's going to a Deathday Party!" Colin said eagerly, "With ghosts!"
"Ruddy 'ell, the poor sod. Good luck to him! Anyway, enjoy the feas'!"
The food was just as good as the decorations; beef wellingtons, glazed ham, roasted pork, buttery chicken, it was all here. Romilda and Theodora McLaggen talked about fashion to one side while the Weasley twins chatted to Angelina about quidditch to the other.
"This is just so cool!" Colin said as he tucked into his cottage pie, "It reminds me of trick and treating! I remember one year I dressed up as a zombie and Mrs Milkins was so impressed she gave me a whole box of sweets! Did you ever get any good, Hazel?"
Hazel shook her head. Dudley and his friends had gone trick-and-treating every Halloween. Harry had been locked in his cupboard and she made to stay in her room. Of course, as soon as they were gone, she had always crept down to let him out. They were some of her best nights, just her and Harry watching television.
"And your hat's really cool," Colin said, "I didn't think we needed to dress up because I definitely would have brought my zombie costume! Do wizards dress up for trick and treat, Ginny?"
Ginny looked very pale. Her plate was untouched.
"Still not feeling well?" Hazel asked.
Ginny shook her head.
"Has Madam Pomfrey's potion not helped?"
"Oh, that's so great, wasn't it?" Colin beamed, "I couldn't stop sneezing until I drank it and then I felt great! I mean, yeah, the steam was a bit weird, and I was worried about the taste, but it was fine and everything's amazing! Who do you think cooks it all?"
Ginny stood up abruptly.
"Are you okay?" Hazel asked. Ginny didn't look good at all. This didn't look like a cold.
"I just need the toilet," Ginny's voice was shaking. She joined the steady stream of students coming to and from the toilets in the Entrance Hall.
Hazel was torn as she watched her go. Should she go after her? If she wasn't well then maybe she wanted to be on her own? Or maybe having some company would help? She didn't know. She didn't want to make things worse.
No, she had to go. Even if Ginny didn't want her, she could always just leave again.
"I'll go see if she's okay," she told Colin.
"Okay," even he looked worried.
She waited for ages in the toilets as girls came and went but there was no sign of Ginny in any of the cubicles. Maybe she's gone back to the common room instead? She must really not really be feeling well. Should she have said something to Madam Pomfrey, who was sitting in the hall?
No, if it was nothing then Ginny would hate the fuss. She was just worried, that was all.
The corridors were dark and quiet. The wind howled outside and the glass rattled furiously with each gust. The pale candlelight flickered against the statues and paintings so the shadows danced around her. Each footstep echoed on the stone floor.
Hazel wrapped her arms around herself as her heart thumped furiously. This was stupid. She should have stayed at the feast. Ginny was probably fine. She was probably already back in her seat, enjoying a bowl of ice cream and laughing at the dancing skeletons Dumbledore had booked.
Then she felt it.
The emotions hit her like a wave. They were so intense that she gasped as if punched in the stomach. Panic, fear, her hairs stood on end as she stumbled. She felt light-headed, sick. What was that? The intensity had gone but her head was still throbbing, and every muscle was tensed. What was that? Some kind of weird magic? Was it Peeves pulling a prank on her? Should she go back?
No, if Ginny needed her then she had to go on.
She took a deep breath and walked on.
She was about half-way back to the dormitory when she turned onto the second floor. It was even darker here, the candles had been blown out and the wind whistled down the corridor, whipping her face. There were three people ahead of her, hidden in the dark. They were just outside the girl's bathroom.
Why had her life just turned into a horror movie? On Halloween of all nights.
"Hello?" There was a growing unease. There was something very wrong here.
Wait, there was something hanging from the wall. What was that?
Hazel screamed.
The three figures whipped around. She was vaguely aware of who it was, the glasses were unmistakeable. Her attention was fixed on the shape hanging from the candleholder. It was Mrs Norris, Filch's cat and deputy. She wasn't even swinging in the wind, it was like she made of wax.
"Hazel!" Harry had gone white, "What are you doing here?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She couldn't take her eyes off Mrs Norris.
There was a rumble from below. The feast was over and hundreds of happy, full students were on their way. They came into the corridor at both ends but screeched to a halt as they saw what was happening. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hazel stood alone, surrounded on all sides.
"'Enemies of the heir, beware!'" Draco Malfoy called from in the crowd, "You'll be next, mudbloods!"
What did he mean? She had been so focused on Mrs Norris that she had missed the writing on the wall.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.
Surely it wasn't written in blood? She was going to be sick.
"What's all this?" her blood ran cold. Filch pushed his way through the students and stopped as surely as if he'd hit a wall, holding his face in long, crooked fingers, "My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris!"
His eyes fell on Harry.
"You!" He approached Harry with hands outstretched as if to strangle him, "You! You've killed my cat! I'll kill you-"
She stepped in front of Filch without even thinking about it.
"Argus!" Professor Dumbledore swept into the space left by the wall of students, followed by the other teachers. Without a word he detached Mrs Norris from the wall and, at Professor Lockhart's suggestion, headed for his office.
"Prefects," he called before he left, "Please lead your students back to the dormitories via any other route. Mr and Miss Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, please follow me."
Hazel barely noticed that Professor Lockhart's office was filled with portraits and pictures of himself. She kept replaying the sight of Mrs Norris in her mind over and over again. What had happened to her? Why was Harry even there?
Dumbledore was examining the cat and muttering strange spells. Filch sat in the corner with his head in his hands while he was comforted by Professor Sprout. His heaving sobs were horrible to listen to. He wasn't particularly popular in the school but Hazel wouldn't want anyone to feel how he was feeling.
Professor Lockhart was making a lot of suggestions about what might have harmed Mrs Norris. It was a comfort that he was here at least. Between him and Dumbledore, they'd work out what had happened.
"She's not dead, Argus." Dumbledore sighed at last. Lockhart stopped talking.
"Not dead?" Filch croaked, "But then, why is she all stiff like that?"
"She has been petrified," Dumbledore said.
"Ah of course," Professor Lockhart nodded, "Petrified. I knew at once."
"But by what, I cannot say," Dumbledore finished.
"Ask him!" Filch jabbed a finger at Harry furiously, "He did it!"
A surge of anger ran through her, sorry as she felt for him. How could he accuse her brother of something like this? He would never hurt a fly, no matter how much he hated Filch and his cat!
"No second-year student could have done this," Dumbledore said, "It would take dark magic of the most advanced-"
"He did it!" Filch's eyes were popping, and his tear-stained face was spasming nastily, "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He saw my letter, he knows…he knows I'm a squib!"
"I never touched Mrs Norris!" Harry shouted and everyone looked at him, "And I don't even know what a squib is!"
"If I might speak, Headmaster," Professor Snape said smoothly, "It is possible that Potter and his friends happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the feast?"
The three explained the Deathday Party but the answers about why they were in the corridor seemed very weak. Harry was keeping eye-contact with Snape but his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. She knew that look. It was the same look he had at Privet Drive, when he was trying to think of a lie for Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia.
Snape sneered with his black eyes glittering in the candlelight, "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely honest with us. It might be a good idea to deprive him of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I suggest removing him from the Gryffindor quidditch team would be a good place to start."
Hazel's stomach lurched in fear.
"Honestly, Severus," Professor McGonagall snapped, "What would that accomplish? This cat wasn't hit over the head by a broomstick! There is no evidence at all that Potter and the others were involved."
"I'd be interested in Miss Potter's account," Professor Flitwick squeaked, "Did you see anything in the corridor? Anything out-of-place or strange?"
It was hard to speak when the teachers were looking at her so intently. She didn't dare meet any of their eyes and instead focused on her own shoes.
"So you saw nothing?" Professor McGonagall said once she was done.
Hazel shook her head.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly after a moment of thought.
Snape didn't look very happy. Filch looked even less so.
"My cat has been petrified! I want to see some punishment!"
"We will be able to revive her, Argus," Dumbledore said calmly, "I believe Professor Sprout has a number of mandrakes in her care. Once they are fully mature, we can brew a potion that will restore Mrs Norris. In the meantime, you may go."
He said this last part to Hazel and the others, and they wasted no time in escaping the room as quickly as they could without running.
They went up two floors before Harry, Ron and Hermione headed for an empty classroom. Hazel hesitated. Tonight was absolutely not the night to be caught again where they weren't supposed to be, but she also didn't fancy walking back to the common room on her own. Not after what'd happened to poor Mrs Norris.
She was right though. Harry had been lying.
"You heard the voice again?"
He nodded.
"Why didn't you tell Professor Dumbledore?"
"It's a good job he didn't," Ron was frowning as he leant back against a desk, "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, not even in the wizarding world."
"You do believe me?" Harry asked a little warily.
"Of course I do, but it is weird."
"Of course it's weird. The whole thing's weird!"
"But I don't understand," said Hazel, "You heard the voice before, but no one was attacked?"
"Right," Harry had started pacing the room, "And whatever it was had plenty of chances to get me. I was on my own the whole way from Lockhart's office to the common room."
That mental image sent a violent shiver down Hazel's spine. How close had Harry been to ending up like Mrs Norris? The thought alone nearly brought her to tears.
Ron explained why Filch had been so upset and what exactly what a squib was. It only made her feel every sorrier for him. Imagine being in a school full of wizards and witches your whole life but unable to do any yourself. It would be torture for her.
The common room was far from quiet when they got back but Hazel pushed her way through to the dormitories. Romilda and Theodora's beds were empty as was Atia's but Ginny was lying in hers. She seemed fast asleep. That was a relief. At least whatever it was hadn't attacked her as well.
Hazel lay in bed for a long time with the curtains closed. She heard Romilda and Theodora come up to bed.
"But why would she have anything to do with it?" Romilda hissed.
"Why else was she there?" Theodora whispered back, "Why did Dumbledore take her and her brother?"
"I don't know, it does seem a bit weird."
Hazel turned over and tried to block out their whispering.
The hours stretched by and she could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Mrs Norris came back to her, or worse, Harry with his eyes wide open, rigid and unmoving.
Then there was that feeling, just before the attack. It was the second time it had happened, the second time Harry had heard the voice. Was it linked? Was it just her imagination, going mad in the dark and empty corridor?
The questions bounced around and around in her head until she fell into an uncomfortable sleep.
