Look at that, I managed to get the next chapter up sooner rather than later!
Boris Yeltsin, Ten Duel Commandments [I love that!], and SwordSeer, I'm glad you're happy she's a reserve Chaser! I've got all the love in the world for my three Gryffindor Chasers, so I wasn't about to have Susanna replace Angelina, Katie, or Alicia [I'm here for Susanna having three overprotective sisters to play Quidditch with]. I still wanted her to be on the team, as I both love Quidditch and felt it was the perfect way to have Susanna stay physically active. In the long run, it'll help her learn to ignore her mother's voice when she's eating, and get her into a healthy headspace, considering everything that's going to go down throughout the story.
Also: I've been toying with this idea for awhile - since I started this story, in fact - but SwordSeer's comment made me all the more excited to start writing it. How would everyone feel about a collection of AU chapters, all about what Harry's and Susanna's life would be like if James and Lily Potter lived? Please let me know!
Anway, I hope you enjoy this update, and I'll try to get the next one up ASAP. As always, I only claim my OC.
October seemed to come in the blink of an eye, along with the prolonged rainstorms that caused nearly the entire castle to fall ill with the common cold. Poor Ginny seemed to have caught it, so Susanna and Percy both bullied her into taking Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup Potion. It did the trick, but left the younger redheaded girl with smoking ears for hours, making it seem like her head was on fire. While the first year was no longer pale, she was still quiet and withdrawn, refusing to go into detail when Susanna would ask what was wrong. Knowing more harm than good would come out of pushing Ginny into getting a more detailed answer, she resolved to make sure the youngest Weasley knew she'd be there when the girl was finally ready to talk.
The constant rainstorms and rise in illness did nothing to stop Oliver from increasing the intensity of their training sessions. For good reason, too - the Weasley twins had spied on the Slytherin team, reporting back that while on their Nimbus 2001s, the other players were nothing more than blurs of green-and-black. Susanna offered up her broom to be used during games - "Maybe we can set up a wheel and everyone can spin to see who gets to borrow it?" she'd offered - but Oliver firmly rejected her offer, telling his team that they didn't have to be faster, they just had to be better.
One late afternoon saw Harry and Susanna squelching inside the school, somehow the wettest they'd ever been. Susanna kept glancing at her distracted cousin, and when he finally caught her looking, all he did was roll his eyes. "No, I'm not hearing any voices."
That's right. Voices. During his first detention of the year - Harry would never live down the fact he and Ron got in trouble at school before Susanna or the twins could - he'd heard an icy voice hissing out terrifying phrases, such as "let me rip you" and "let me kill you". Lockhart had waved off his claims, stating he must've only been tired. Ron, Susanna, and Hermione were all at a loss, and eventually Harry guessed that for once, Lockhart had been right.
"Just checking. Don't need you going mad." Susanna joked, her cousin rolling his eyes.
They turned the corner, coming upon somebody who looked to be in deeper thought than Harry. Nearly Headless Nick - "Sir Nicholas, if you don't mind!" the ghost often corrected - was staring out a window battered with thick raindrops. "... don't fulfill their requirements… half an inch, if that." He muttered to himself.
"Hello, Nick." Harry called, and the ghost was startled from his musing.
"Oh, hello, hello." He turned to the cousins. "You both look troubled, young Potter and Dursley." He folded up a transparent letter and tucked it inside his smoky doublet.
"So do you." Harry said, Susanna nodding in agreement.
"Ah," Sir Nicholas waved him off, "a matter or no importance. It's not as though I really wanted to join. Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill the requirements'." His tone was light, but his face bitter. "But you would think, wouldn't you," his sudden vehemence startled Susanna enough that she jumped and nearly dropped her broomstick, "that getting hit forty five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the headless hunt?"
"Yes. It would." Susanna nodded.
"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly." The cousins winced, both remembering his demonstration the year before, when he'd shown the Gryffindor first years how little his head was still attached to his body. "I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However," Sir Nicholas took out his letter and shook it open, angrily reading it outloud, "'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have been parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With the very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.'" He stuffed the letter away once more, positively fuming. "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated Podmore." Sir Nicholas sighed, breathing deeply. Once calm, he smiled pleasantly at the two second years. "So, what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"
"No." Harry grumbled. "Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus 2001s for our match against Sly-" Susanna frowned when he cut himself off, but a sharply pitched mewling revealed just what the interruption was.
Mrs. Norris - Filch's little spy cat - stared up at the cousins with her bright yellow eyes. She moved away from Harry's ankle to rub at Susanna's, only to hiss. She must've smelt Hades, Susanna thought to herself with a little smirk. Her cat had made it quite clear he held no love for Filch's skeletal feline, snarling and swiping at her whenever he saw Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris would respond in kind, but Hades was quicker and scrappier, having been a stray up until he was brought to the Magical Menagerie.
"You'd better get out of here. Filch isn't in a good mood. He's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you two dripping mud all over the place -"
"Right." Harry grabbed Susanna's wrist, the cousins backing away from the judgemental old cat, but not quickly enough. Filch burst through a tapestry to their right, wheezing and sniffling. His nose was bright red, and he'd wrapped his head in a thick tartan scarf.
"Filth!" He shouted, pointing at the puddle of mud that had dripped from the cousins' Quidditch robes. "Mess and much everywhere! I've had enough of it!"
"I can clean it!" Susanna insisted, pulling out her wand to perform the cleaning spell, having been practicing with Hermione.
"Put that away, girl, I've had enough madness!" The caretaker howled.
Susanna gaped at him. "Wha-I can clean it!"
"How do I know it's not a trick, eh, with all you've pulled! Come with me, Dursley! You too, Potter!"
The cousins waved gloomily at Sir Nicholas, following Filch back down the stairs. This only caused the amount of mud puddles to increase. Susanna would have used the cleaning spell, but Filch had only brought it on himself.
While Harry had never been inside Filch's office before, Susanna was no stranger to the windowless room. She always thought he'd do better with a space that allowed for natural light, though she imagined no amount of sunshine would actually make the caretaker any happier. His office was lit only by a solitary oil lamp which hung from the ceiling. The room still smelled of fried fish. There were large wooden filing cabinets decorating the walls, containing files on every student who'd ever gotten into trouble with Filch. The Weasley twins had their own drawer, and Susanna wondered if Filch was in the process of creating one for her, too. Not that she tried to be overwhelmingly destructive - the second week of school aside, in which she set off dungbombs whenever Draco was nearby. He deserved it, after what he called her and Hermione. She'd turned the other cheek enough the previous year when Pansy called her a Mudblood. Susanna refused to continue to do so.
She'd also managed to shrink Draco's books and less dangerous potions ingredients a few times, leaving the Slytherin confused and delightfully frustrated. Considering he'd yet to demonstrate proficiency for the spell while Susanna and Hermione had, it felt like justice to the redhead. Her bushy-haired friend hadn't even scolded her, equally as disgusted and angry about being called something so foul. While he didn't know it was her, Susanna's glare whenever Draco tried to taunt her was vicious enough to scare the boy into silence.
She was still her parents' daughter, she could be terrifying when she chose.
Filch grabbed a quill from his desk and began rummaging around for parchment. Susanna knew he was looking for a specific form to fill out, the old man only ever organized when it came to writing out students' misdeeds. "Dung… great sizzling dragon bogies… frog brains… rat intestines… I've had enough of it… make an example… where're the forms? Ah, yes." He pulled out two rolls of parchment from the drawer and unrolled it. Dipping his long black quill in a pot of ink, he began to write. "Alright, your first, boy. Name… Harry Potter. Crime -"
"It was only a bit of mud!" Harry cried out, and Susanna snickered quietly at her feet.
"It was only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" Filch shouted back, his nose beginning to run. "Crime… befouling the castle… suggested sentence…" He trailed off, smiling unpleasantly at Susanna's nervous cousin while wiping his nose. He lowered his quill back to the parchment, about to deliver Harry's punishment, when there was a loud BANG! on the ceiling, making the oil lamp swing violently. "PEEVES!" The caretaker roared, and Susanna sighed in relief. Leave it to the Hogwarts poltergeist to know exactly when to get on Filch's nerves. The old man threw down his quill. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!" He ran out of his office with Mrs. Norris beside him.
"We might as well just leave." Susanna told her cousin. "He won't be distracted forever."
"Should we destroy the parchment?" Harry asked, leaning over the desk to grab the form. "Hang on, what's this?" He beckoned the redhead over, and she quickly joined him. Glancing quickly at the door to make sure Filch was still gone, Harry picked up a purple envelope so the cousins could read it together; Kwikspell - A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic.
"Maybe we should just… leave it alone." Susanna huffed when Harry carefully pulled out several pieces of parchment from inside the already opened envelope. "Harry, come on, we really should go -" Still, her curiosity became overwhelming, her eyes drawn to the first page.
Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wandwork? There is an answer! Kwikspell is an all new, fail safe, quick result, easy learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell method!
Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes: "I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the center of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"
Warlock D.J. Prod of Didsbury says: "My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"
"Why would he need this?" Harry asked Susanna as he leafed through the rest of the parchments, his cousin choosing to keep watch for Filch instead. "Is he not a proper wizard?"
"It explains why he cleans everything like a Muggle would." Susanna hummed, then shoved her cousin. "Hurry, I think he's coming back!" She hissed, all too familiar with the sound of Filch's shuffling footsteps. Not a moment after Harry threw the envelope back onto the desk, the caretaker burst into the office, looking especially victorious.
"That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" He laughed gleefully at his cat. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet -" His gaze flicked from the cousins to the Kwikspell envelope, and Susanna refrained from groaning. Harry'd put it down two feet away from where he found it. Filch's face turned as red as a tomato's, and he hobbled over to his desk to throw the envelope into a drawer. "Have you… did you read -"
"No." Harry lied, Susanna putting on her most innocent expression, having perfected her confused expression when she was much younger and crueler. She used it often to get away with bullying her classmates.
Filch shifted nervously, and it was the first time either cousins had seen such behavior from the old man. "If I thought you'd read my private… not that it's mine… for a friend… be that as it may, however -" He glowered furiously at them as he sputtered out his defense. "Very well, go. And don't breathe a word, not that… however, if you didn't read… go now, I have to write up Peeves's report. Go!"
Harry and Susanna sprinted out of the office - broomsticks in hand - and back upstairs, not wanting to stick around if Filch changed his mind. The twins were going to be so jealous when they heard what the cousins got away with!
"Harry! Susanna! Did it work?" Sir Nicholas asked as he floated out of a classroom, leaving behind a destroyed black and gold cabinet in his wake - so that's what the BANG! was. "I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office." He explained. "Thought it might distract him."
Harry grinned. "Yeah, it worked, we didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!"
"Thank you, Sir Nicholas." The ghost bowed to the cousins, then joined them in walking down another corridor. The cousins noticed he was still holding his rejection letter, and nodded to each other before turning to the phantom.
"I wish there was something we could do for you about the Headless Hunt." Harry spoke for the both of them, then shivered as he accidentally walked through Sir Nicholas, the ghost having frozen in thought.
"But there is something you could do for me!" Sir Nicholas smiled at the second years. "Harry, Susanna, would I be asking too much… but no, you wouldn't want -"
"What is it, Sir Nicholas?" Susanna asked, not wanting to sound impatient, but also desperate to take a hot shower, not eager to catch a cold.
"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday." The ghost announced regally. The cousins nodded, unsure what to say to that - I'm sorry? Congratulations? - "I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. It would be an honor if you would attend. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger would be most welcome too, of course, but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?"
"No." Harry quickly answered, before Susanna could decline, the girl having missed the feast the previous year, which was deserved, but still. "We'll come -"
"My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And -" Sir Nicholas paused, mischief written all over his face, "do you think you both could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"
"Of course."
"It'd be our pleasure." Harry and Susanna responded with smiles, and said their goodbyes to the ghost before hurrying off to the Gryffindor Tower.
"A deathday party?" Hermione gasped excitedly once the cousins passed along the invitation. They'd made sure to shower and change first, bundling up in their comforters and pajamas. The common room was as vibrant as always, students conversing loudly while the rain continued to beat against the windows. Fred and George were trying to find what would happen if the Fire Dwelling Salamander they'd rescued - sure, Susanna had thought to herself once the twins told her - from their Care of Magical Creatures class. A small group of Gryffindors had gathered around their table, all watching the smoldering amphibian. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those - it'll be fascinating!"
"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" Ron grumped from the couch, irritated that both Susanna and Hermione had told him he had to redo his Potions homework. "Sounds dead depressing to me."
Susanna snorted. "Ha. Dead." Then she shrugged. "I suppose there's not much else to celebrate when you're a ghost."
"Fair enough - bloody hell, why did it have to be Quirrell, why couldn't it have been Snape trying to steal the Stone for You-Know-Who?" Ron growled. "Harry would've made him crumble, and I wouldn't have to write this stupid essay."
While Ron complained about their professor and Hermione attempted to get him to focus, Harry and Susanna looked at each other. "Should we tell them?" She whispered to her cousin. "About Filch?"
Before Harry could answer, there was a loud crackling sound. The four second years watched as the salamander whizzed through the air. Percy shouted loud enough to rattle the walls as a shower of bright orange stars shot out of the creature's mouth. The salamander then dove into the fireplace, the embers exploding dangerously. As Harry and Susanna scrambled away to safety, any thought of the Kwikspell envelope flew out of their minds.
At seven o'clock on Halloween evening, while the rest of the school cheerfully anticipated the feast, four morose Gryffindors walked past the Great Hall. Susanna's eyes were drawn to Hagrid's pumpkins, which were carved into lanterns big enough for three people to sit inside. "Can't we stay for a little? I want to find out where or not Dumbledore actually hired a troupe of dancing skeletons!" Susanna pleaded, but Hermione shook her head, having taken it upon herself to make sure they held up Harry's promise.
"A promise is a promise. Harry said we'd go to the deathday party." Hermione reminded her, and Susanna poked her tongue out at her regretful-looking cousin. Still, Halloween had become a difficult day for him, what with everyone bringing up the fact that this day eleven years he'd defeated Voldemort. It's as though they forgot he lost his parents in the process. Harry had spent the whole day sending her pleading looks as Susanna struggled not to snap back at them on his behalf.
While the boys moved ahead, the red-haired girl turned to Hermione, holding out her hand. The other girl took it without question. "You know, it's been a whole year." Susanna said with a wide smile. "We've been best friends for a year."
Hermione grinned back. "It has. It's been interesting," they both snorted as the events of the previous year flashed through their minds, "but worth it to have you in my life. You know," the bushy-haired girl began to laugh, "I'm almost grateful you made me cry." Susanna's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who knows if we'd have even been friends if you hadn't."
"You're welcome, I guess." Susanna giggled, then they hurried after Harry and Ron.
The passageway leading to the deathday party was lined with candles, though they were far less bright and welcoming than the ones that floated in the Great Hall. These ones were long, thin, and jet black. The flames were as blue as Hades's eyes, casting a ghostly light on the four second years' faces. They all shivered the closer they got to the celebration, then winced as what sounded like thousands of fingernails scratching a blackboard echoed towards them.
"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron asked.
"It's definitely something." Susanna murmured back.
They turned the corner, nearly running into Sir Nicholas. The ghost stood in front of a doorway, black velvet drapes hanging behind him. "My dear friends, welcome, welcome." He greeted them mournfully. "So pleased you could come." He bowed them inside, removing his plumed hat dramatically.
While Susanna wished she was upstairs eating with the rest of the school, she couldn't help but stare in awe at the dungeon. It was full of hundreds of ghosts, the pearly-white phantoms drifting around the crowded dance floor. They waltzed to the dreadful sound of thirty musical saws, the orchestra playing on a raised platform with black drapes. The chandelier held thousands of black candles like the ones in the passageway, making the room glow a midnight blue.
It was cold, though - uncomfortably slow. The four living guests could see their breaths.
"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, bouncing to warm himself up. Susanna was rubbing her hands together
"Careful not to walk through anyone. Oi, Susie -" Ron tugged the other redhead out of the way, helping her narrowly avoid the ghost floating dangerously close to the girl. Moving around the edge of the dance floor, they passed the gloomiest nuns Susanna had ever seen, a ragged man draped with chains, and the cheerful Fat Friar conversing with a knight who's forehead had been impaled by an arrow. The Bloody Baron - the Slytherin House ghost - had been given a wide berth.
"Oh no. Anna, look." Hermione suddenly stopped. She pointed ahead and Susanna shivered.
"Time to turn around, boys."
"What, why?" Harry asked his cousin, who was trying to shove him back the way they came.
Hermione shushed him. "Shh. Turn back, turn back, we don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle -"
"Who?" Ron inquired gruffly, letting himself be pulled by the bushy-haired girl.
"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor." Hermione quickly explained.
Harry stared at the two girls, confused. "She haunts a toilet?"
"Yes." Susanna nodded. "It's been out of order since the start of school because she keeps throwing tantrums and flooding the place. Hermione and I tried to avoid it as best we could before that, cause it's no fun peeing while she's wailing in the stall next to yours -"
"Look, food!" Ron interrupted.
A long table stood at the other side of the dungeon, covered in black velvet. They were all excited at the prospect of eating a delicious feast, only to freeze in horror when they got close enough. Rotten fish had been laid out on silver platters, cakes burnt to nothing more than charcoal had been heaped onto trays. There was maggoty haggis, cheese covered in fuzzy green mold, and a large gray cake shaped like a tombstone in the center of it all. Written in tar-like icing was the words "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, died 31st October, 1492."
A portly ghost approached the table and crouched low, walking through it with his mouth open to "eat" the stinking salmon.
"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked for the four of them.
The ghost looked at them with enough sadness that Susanna believed he could make Professor Snape cry. "Almost."
He floated away, and Hermione cleared her throat. "I expect they've let it rot to give it a strong flavor." She leaned closer to inspect the haggis, pinching her nose. Susanna was quick to tug her back while Ron gulped.
"Can we move? I feel sick." He did look a touch green.
The four Gryffindors had barely turned around when a little man flew up from under the table, coming to a halt midair in front of them. "Hello, Peeves." Harry cautiously greeted the poltergeist. Unlike the ghosts celebrating Sir Nicholas's deathday, Peeves was neither pale nor transparent. He wore a bright orange party tie and a revolving bow tie. A terrifyingly broad grin had taken over his wicked face.
"Nibbles?" Peeves asked sweetly - too sweetly - as he offered them a bowl of fungus covered peanuts.
"No thanks." Hermione offered the poltergeist a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle." Susanna groaned as his eyes danced. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle. OY! MYRTLE!" He bellowed.
Hermione held out her hands, shaking her head. "Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset. We didn't mean it, we don't mind her - er, hello, Myrtle."
A squat ghost with thick pearly spectacles and high pigtails glided over to them. "What?" She asked, sulking.
"How are you, Myrtle?" Hermione asked, as falsely pleasant as Susanna's mother when she was forced to speak to the neighbors. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."
Myrtle sniffed, and Peeves leaned closer to her. "Ms. Granger and Ms. Dursley were just talking about you -"
"Just saying how nice you look tonight." Susanna glowered at Peeves while Myrtle eyed her and Hermione with suspicion.
"You're making fun of me." Silver tears began to fall down her cheeks.
Hermione shook her head. "No, honestly, wasn't I just saying how nice Myrtle looks?" She scowled at Harry and Ron, who immediately nodded.
"Oh, yeah -"
"She did -"
"Don't lie to me!" Myrtle wailed while Peeves laughed behind her. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!" Susanna winced, wondering how many girls like Myrtle she'd made cry before her life flipped upside down.
"You've forgotten pimply!" Peeves added, and Myrtle began to sob uncontrollably, fleeing the dungeon. Peeves followed after her, throwing the moldy peanuts at her as he shouted, "Pimply! Pimply!"
"Oh, dear." Hermione murmured, frowning sadly.
Sir Nicholas floated towards them. "Enjoying yourselves?"
"Oh, yes." They all lied.
"Not a bad turnout." The ghost said, beaming with pride as he surveyed the room. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent. It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra -"
The orchestra stopped playing at once, the entire hall falling completely silent. A hunting horn blew, and Sir Nicholas turned bitter. "Oh, here we go."
A dozen ghost horses ridden by headless men burst through the dungeon wall. The ghosts clapped widely - Harry begun applauding, too, until he noticed his cousin gesturing to the crestfallen Sir Nicholas.
The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor, rearing and plunging. A large ghost led his horse in front of the other riders, holding his bearded head under his arm, horn in hand. He leapt down and raised his head above him so he could see over the crowd - everyone but Sir Nicholas and the four Gryffindors laughed - and strutted over to the host of the party, placing his head onto his neck. "Nick!" The ghost roared. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?" He laughed heartily, clapping Sir Nicholas on the shoulder.
The other ghost stood stiff as a plank. "Welcome, Patrick." Ah. He's the jerk who rejected Sir Nicholas.
"Live 'uns!" Sir Patrick jumped in faux shock, his head falling off to the joy of the rest of the partygoers.
"Very amusing." Sir Nicholas responded darkly.
"Don't mind Nick!" Sir Patrick's head shouted from the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say - look at the fellow -"
"I think," Harry began hurriedly, "Nick's very… frightening and… er -"
Susanna groaned at her cousin's terrible acting, Sir Patrick laughing. "Bet he asked you to say that!"
"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" Sir Nicholas spoke loudly, floating towards the podium. "My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow -"
Unfortunately for the Gryffindor House ghost, the Headless Hunt had started up a game of Head Hockey, the crowd's attention drawn to them. Sir Nicholas tried to regain their focus, giving up only when Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him, his guests cheering.
Cold and starving, the four Gryffindors turned to each other. "I can't stand much more of this." Ron snarled, teeth chattering as the orchestra started playing once more, ghosts filling the dance floor.
"Let's go." Harry nodded, Susanna and Hermione leading them out of the room as quickly and quietly as possibly.
"Pudding might not be finished yet." The red-haired girl turned to her fellow ginger, elbowing him in the side.
"Here's hoping." He huffed.
As they walked up the steps to the entrance hall, Harry suddenly froze. Susanna was the first to notice the way her cousin stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall. He pressed his ear to it then stepped away, looking around the dimly lit passage. "Harry? What's wrong?"
"It's the voice again." His words made his cousin freeze, too. She exchanged nervous looks with Hermione and Ron. "Shut up a minute. Listen!"
"Harry, I don't… we don't -"
"Shh! This way!" Harry shouted at Susanna before bolting up the stairs and into the entrance hall. Avoiding the Great Hall - the feast was still going on - he sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, his cousin and their best friends right behind him.
Ron frowned. "Harry, what're we -"
"SHH!" He shushed the other boy loudly, then paled. "It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, ignoring their faces as he ran up the next flight of stairs. Both he and Susanna were barely panting, Oliver's intense training having done wonders for their stamina. Ron and Hermione panted behind them, Susanna having caught up to her cousin as he hurtled around the second floor. They didn't stop until they reached the last deserted passage, Susanna letting Hermione lean on her so the girl could catch her breath.
"Harry, what was that all about?" Rob wiped the sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything, I'm not sure any of us did -"
"Look!" Hermione gasped, pointing down the corridor. Something shone on the wall ahead. They walked towards it slowly, the bushy-haired girl squeezing Susanna's hand in a painful grip. Foot high words had been written on the wall between two windows, the flaming torches making it easy to read.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
"What's that thing hanging underneath it?" Ron asked nervously, voice quivering as he pointed to a dark shadow hanging under one of the torches. They all crept closer, Ron and Hermione catching the cousins as they slipped in a large puddle of water between them and the wall. Once they realized what the shadow was, all four Gryffindors jumped backwards, feet splashing in the puddle.
Mrs. Norris was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket, stiff as a board, yellow eyes wide.
They were frozen for a few moments, then Ron cleared his throat. "Let's get out of here."
"Shouldn't we try and help?" Susanna asked. She didn't like the feline, true, but suddenly she was seeing Hades in Mrs. Norris's place, and her stomach tied itself into terrified knots.
"You and I both know we don't want to be found here." Ron reminded her.
It was too late. Loud rumbling echoed down the corridor, announcing the end of the feast. Thundering footsteps came from either side of the quartet, joined with the happy talk that only comes from a night of laughter and good food. Then, the students crashed into the passage on both ends. The corridor became as silent as the library when Madam Pince would go on a rampage. Those in the front had a clear view of the four Gryffindors in the center of the passage, then everyone pressed closer to read the writing on the wall and stare fearfully at Mrs. Norris.
A voice cut through the silence. "'Enemies of the Heir, beware!'" Draco pushed students out of the way to stand at the front. "You'll be next, Mudbloods." He warned viciously, cold gray eyes trained on the frozen cat, ignoring Susanna's glower.
Harry shuddered beside her, and she frowned back up at the words on the wall as she took her cousin's hand.
There goes any hope of having a normal year.
