The Englanderish
Schrödinger's Kuudere Kitty Caliph(a)
- Location
- Califat de Chats
Fixed and fixed!
-
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Harry Potter And The Marauders Of The Phoenix: a Plot-Bunny Adoption
- Thread starter The Englanderish
- Start date
- Novel Fantasy
Ranma-sensei
Sorcerer
- Location
- Citrix Receiver
- Pronouns
- Weatherdependent
Bah, real life sucks massively, sometimes; but finally, I can read this:
Corrections follow below:
I have the perfect
I'm currently imagining a group of colonial marines being stalked by a xenomorph in the dark.
Whoops!
Corrections follow below:
'sat'
'known'
Either 'Gettin'', or 'Getting'.
Comma and tilde need to be switched.
Is that an expression? Because I can't find it, and you don't want to know what I'm imagining - hell, I'm not sure what I should imagine!
Is that correct, or do you mean 'shut at home'.
'could only'?
The comma is unnecessary, plus takes too much momentum out of the sentence.
Can you 'yell' in parseltongue?
'to cloud'
Is that correct so, or do you mean 'made him out' or 'made for him'?
'reach'
The Englanderish
Schrödinger's Kuudere Kitty Caliph(a)
- Location
- Califat de Chats
Ooooops.
It's a colloquialism.
Being 'made' is slang for being discovered or identified when trying not to be.
Fixed the rest. Hope your rl gets easier soon!
Ranma-sensei
Sorcerer
- Location
- Citrix Receiver
- Pronouns
- Weatherdependent
Forgot to mention:
You seem to be having fun with your Dumbledore.
You seem to be having fun with your Dumbledore.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
So, she was going for something like this?
So, a yellow tie belonging to Justin?
His hair is as red as a tigers,
On a broom he's as swift as a viper.
With the heart of a Lion, and the rage of a fighter,
A Griffindor scion, a girls hearts igniter,
A carefree and lordly, valentines invitee,
Have tea at pudifoots with Hermione?
On a broom he's as swift as a viper.
With the heart of a Lion, and the rage of a fighter,
A Griffindor scion, a girls hearts igniter,
A carefree and lordly, valentines invitee,
Have tea at pudifoots with Hermione?
So, a yellow tie belonging to Justin?
Last edited:
The Englanderish
Schrödinger's Kuudere Kitty Caliph(a)
- Location
- Califat de Chats
Hello, hello, welcome. Yyyyyeah this has been rather back-burner for a bit of a while, but I'll be getting back to it once the next chapter of my other fic is up. So plausibly within the next couple months. Sheesh I've had a busy year...
Chapter 10: A Castle Dour
The Englanderish
Schrödinger's Kuudere Kitty Caliph(a)
- Location
- Califat de Chats
At last, after an unintentional 4-year hiatus, it is back. I think I've left this cliffhanger stew entirely too long.
So without further ado...
+++++
Chapter 10: A Castle Dour
"Wormtail, all I need to know is if Harry is alive or dead." Harshly, the voice of the book cut right across the inane babbling. "Cease your panic and be quick about it."
The twitching rat's heartbeat was thoroughly out of control, truly a contemptible, panicky, mangy little servant. Riddle longed to transform him on the spot and leave him to Dumbledore just to end the revulsion. Alas, he was still necessary - indeed, possibly more so than even Riddle himself realised. So much that happened in decades of being unused. "He-he is alive, Master! P-petrified!" Wormtail squeaked, visions of impending slaughter radiating out from his brain so hard that it was legitimately making it difficult to think.
A game-changer, certainly, but not one that would necessarily need uprooting of the plan. "And the target mudblood? You didn't mention him at all, the Thomas boy?" The panic, oh the blessed fear and subservience. The opiate that it was, permeating too much. Wormtail would have to be reassured, lest Riddle completely descend into indulging in it that he could not use reason. "Stop cowering - you are not going to be smitten by me today you stupid little fool!"
"M-missed him! By the smallest window, but he left just before the-the snak-"
"The Basilisk is a great and noble magical being of more history and lineage than your pathetic, blood-traitor family and 'friends' all combined. It is not a mere 'snake' and you shall not demean it as such." If only he had nostrils to flare, Riddle's diary would be doing so.
"The Basilisk," Pettigrew continued, still flakey and exuding dread, but more stable, not nearly as intoxicating, "arrived. Nobody yet knows he was the target - at least not so far as I can tell."
Half-tempted to spring open and swat the unsuspecting minion with his cover, Riddle contented himself in processing the developments. "Thomas might as well be the next target then, we just need to wait - not long, but enough that it won't be foreseen. This was not your failing, Wormtail." The sensation of relief almost acted as a sobering aid, cleansing his system more. "What is important now is to watch, wait, and- Ginny is coming up the stairs." At once, Pettigrew hopped off the bed and skittered away underneath it.
A second later, the heavy wooden door swung in a wide arc and the shaking young figure of Tom's favourite redhead burst in. Without stopping, she threw herself onto her bedspread next to Tom, great wracking sobs filling the air. Would that he still had a body, Riddle would know exactly how to soothe the situation. A hug, false sweet words, and charming tone would have seen Ginny entirely under control.
Unfortunately, he lacked the arms and the voice to do so. And so, the book was only able to wait out the storm of anguish. The girl cried and bawled and wailed rather pitifully, before, mercifully quickly, sitting up and punching the pillow. She let out an almost strangled roar, yanking the unfortunate piece of cushioning over her head and throwing it across the room. Anger, fury. Better, Tom could sympathise with that - and it did not invade his thoughts nearly as much as a result. Whether or not it would be better in the practical sense to stoke or smother Ginny's anger remained to be seen, but it was certainly far more tolerable.
Just as suddenly, Tom found himself snatched up, flipped open, and an extremely messy scrawl written onto one of his pages.
'Tom! Harry has been petrified!'
Time to play the part then - or was it really such a performance? Tom confessed to be getting to find it quite engaging, having an innocent young pureblood to liberate from such treacherous upbringings. It felt like a challenge, almost. 'What?! How is he?'
'He's in the hospital wing. They say he'll be alright, but still… It has been a shock.'
'I see - you have been very brave Ginny. You should get some rest.'
Ginny scowled at that, before replying. 'I'm not tired. Besides, Hermione reckons she has an idea on what the monster is so we're just waiting for some time to get everyone together.'
That could be a problem. This had better be handled rather delicately. 'She does? How?'
'No idea.' A chew of the quill before she replied, no doubt still in a tizzy. 'That's Hermione for you. Great thinker but a horrible communicator sometimes.'
'If you could be so kind as to keep me in the loop, it would be appreciated.' Hmm, maybe a little too over-interested? 'I shall worry if you are absent too long.' There, better, more towards something more tangible. Plus it flattered her.
"We are dealing with a Basilisk!" Uttered Hermione, almost breathlessly. The table was splayed out with illustrations, excerpts, open books and even a small map of some sort. At the convergence of the grand array, she stood with her arms crossed and a small pointer in one hand, for all the world as if her four friends (and Ginny) were students at a lecture. For all intents and purposes, they may as well be, cloistered away in the quiet corner of the library and with nowhere to hide from the enforced briefing. Getting here all at the same time had not been simple to arrange, with Ginny herself having to borrow the invisibility cloak and fabricate a very hasty excuse with the help of a favour off of Harper, a boy from her year she had once lent… was it some potion ingredients? No, those couldn't be given back.
A sharp rap of the pointer on the table and Ginny found herself on the receiving end of what she had heard Ron describe as 'the gaze of judgement', but had yet to experience. In her personal opinion, she would have dubbed it the 'hawkeye of mild consternation' - it was long-winded enough to suit Hermione.
"Pay attention." Returning to her businesslike tone, Hermione directed her little silver rod at an illustration of what looked to be a rather monstrous snake indeed. The little person silhouette next to it for scale was pretty grim, the fang length apparently ranging from 'only' bread-knife all the way up to claymore. "The Basilisk's fangs are highly venomous and will be fatal without extremely powerful healing magic."
"Does it need that?" Pondered Ginny aloud, shooting shifty looks down at the teeth in question. It certainly looked as if one snap would be the end of anything smaller than the giant squid. Why hadn't it killed anyone yet if it had those?!
A snort erupted from Draco, feet perched on the corner of the table despite repeated attempts from both Susan and the lecturer to remove them. "As if magical creatures ever need most of the traits they have."
"They do tend to defy logic, but this is not the most dangerous part of the Basilisk..." A firm jab onto the corner of a sheaf and a second illustration was dragged out from under a long and apparently futile antidotes list. Immediately, laughter broke from both attending Weasleys, Ginny leaning onto her brother's shoulder for support. The picture featured the most comically oversized eyes Ginny had ever seen, great bulbous yellow and round like a bizarre parody of Professor McGonagall's legendary glare. The picture was made worse by the flat, forward-facing face that sported what appeared to be a fanged scowl, as well as a dangling forked tongue. Quite clearly, whoever had been responsible for this had never actually seen a Basilisk.
Struggling to get words out, Ron held up a hand in the face of Hermione's ever-creasing frown, he huffed and puffed before finally, "W-what's it gonna do? Stern word us to d-death?!" And then he was lost again, joining Ginny in side-clutching guffaws. It was spreading too, the beginnings of small titters making their way onto Susan's round face.
"Wait-wait no!" Taking the opportunity of a small lull in her giggling, Ginny went next. "Maybe it'll glare us to death! And th-threaten detenio-AHAHAHAHAHA" At least she got the gist out, she self-satisfactorily mused before she succumbed fully to her fit.
Pursing her lips somewhat irritably, Hermione strove on with her presentation. "As it happens, it can and will stare you to death." An extra tap on those stupid eyes. "Eye-contact is fatal."
Susan held up a hand to interrupt, despite the rather annoyed look she got for it. "Wait, why is everyone petrified and not dead then?"
"That's what I wondered at first," gabbled Hermione, as if afraid of being interrupted again, "But really in hindsight it is quite obvious - there has always been something in the way." Counting on her hand, she listed. "Mrs. Norris saw the reflection from Myrtle's flood; Colin Creevy's camera lens saved him; Justin saw it through Nick, who is already dead; Harry was another reflection - mirror this time." Concluding with her self-satisfied smirk Ron had a tendency to describe in more detail than Ginny felt was necessary, Hermione's pointer tapped a map of some sort that crisscrossed with all kinds of lines. "Hogwarts has one of the most extensive plumbing systems in magical history, dating all the way back to the late first millennium and according to revised plans from the archives section, there is ample space for a Basilisk to move, within reason."
"I'll admit, Granger, you make quite a detective," drawled the posse's blond, still with his perfectly-shined shoes propped up on the corner, "But what exactly do we do with this information?"
An answer was ready and waiting. "We protect ourselves first." Reaching down, Hermione heaved a small satchel onto the table and tipped it up, a wide array of hand mirrors tumbling out - some silver and pretty, others cheap and utilitarian, but all freshly polished. "I've mail-ordered a load of thick sunglasses for us, but until they arrive, use these to look around corners." Right in that moment, the girl could've passed for a smug, sentient bush.
"Fat lot of good it'll do," muttered Susan, nonetheless snatching up the nearest one, "Just look at those teeth." A mute gesture towards the first, much more threatening sketch. "Just chomp and, it'd be over - they'd go right through…" An idle digit played along her collar bone, the skin goosebumped as her panic heightened. Slightly unsettled, Ginny stared as the finger poked at the all-too squishy-looking flesh above the bone's contour. "I'm too young to die, I'm not a ba-"
Plink. A terrified rook bounced off her shoulder, the armoured soldier screaming wildly as he gripped the battlements, holding on for dear life, his whole world plummeting down, down towards the floor. "Relax, Susan," its red-headed launcher groaned, leaning back into his seat, "You're getting crazy."
Susan shot Ron a frown, but seemed stabilised. "You'd be singing a different tune if it was a giant spider."
"There are giant spiders in the forest," Hermione mumbled, as if on instinct, reorganising some of her papers to be neater, "Acromantula."
As if he were a marionette out of a grotesque pantomime, Ron's head swivelled to stare at Hermione, eyes almost evacuating his skull. "I did not need to know that."
"So," put in Neville, who had been completely silent up until now, "we can protect ourselves with these." A wave of his own mirror to illustrate. "But what else can we actually do with the information?"
Eager to return to the topic at hand, Hermione beamed at him. "Quite simple - we pass it on. After last year's You-Know-Who incident, I rather think we might be believed this time."
"Well I must say, my dear," said the dashing man as he leant back in his office chair, golden curls shimmering in the afternoon sun, "You have done very well in your detective work!" Gilderoy stretched in his seat, lavender robes of the finest silk shimmering under the dancing light. Offering a fond smile to Hermione, he continued. "To think, the school saved by the actions of such a bright young lady - I may yet need to write another book on this whole affair."
"Pleasure to help!" Hermione gabbled, breathlessly. Fingers clutching her bag, she flushed and tried not to stammer. "It seems so obvious in hindsight, doesn't it? But you wouldn't know to think of it unless you had the right clues." In all honesty, she really did try her best to not dwell on the idea of the book. But. Well, book, Gilderoy Lockhart - there were few things that went so hand-in-hand for her. "Thank you so much for listening! To be honest I was somewhat terrified you might not believe me..."
Gilderoy waved away the sentiment like it was nothing. "My dear, I've seen your studies and your intellect." Wink. And she felt almost like she would melt. "Besides, your case was extremely well-made." A bright quill with what Hermione recognised as Aboriginal patterns on it had diligently copied out notes from her presentation. Finishing, the feather utensil neatly hopped back into its inkwell and fell still. Swishing his wand, Gilderoy summoned the parchment to his hand, looking through the notes.
She'd like to see Ron or Draco make this into something to belittle her over. She waited, fighting the urge to swing her feet in her chair. Just let him absorb the information and think.
"The first thing to be done is to find the entrance to this Chamber," Gilderoy pondered aloud, locks swaying dreamily. "Once we know where that is, this shall get a lot easier." Glancing up at Hermione, he quirked an eyebrow. "Any nuggets on that matter?"
Jutting her jaw nervously, she hesitated. It was an idea, but lacking far too much information for her liking. Nevertheless, he had asked. "Well… I had a thought about how we could find it, yes, but it relies on some unknowns. The first thing we need to know is-" Uncomfortably, she gave a little cough. "Who, um. That is to say, the fatality fifty years ago."
Nodding curiously, the professor's posture changed, more serious and gentle. Sitting up and clearing his throat, he set down the sheaf of parchment. "I see, yes. I can ask to see the sealed files. Of course you yourself won't have to look - and in any case it wouldn't be appropriate."
"Right, right, yes of course G- Professor!" That had very nearly been horrendously embarassing a slip. Hermione buried the near-miss and forged on. "You'll get back to me when you know?"
Deftly, Gilderoy nodded, running his thumb down the notes, finally tapping at one line. "Of course, of course my dear." Folding the notes, he stood with a dazzling flourish of his gorgeously tailored shoulder-cape. The gold really did look good against the purple. "In the meanwhile, I shall order in a flock of roosters. Not terribly dramatic, but perhaps we could fluff things up after all is said and done - you know how the public likes a good story!"
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione briefly pondered the ethics of embellishing. That was swiftly tossed out of her thirteen-year-old mind however, at the prospect of being at the forefront of a grand tale with Gilderoy. "Oh, that's a brilliant countermeasure!"
With the latest attack, school security was tightening. As such, there weren't many opportunities for standing around chatting outside of common room hours any more. Teachers haunted them, keen to get their charges into classrooms. A grim pall had cast over the castle, settling into the moods of everyone, and even the building itself, beige stonework fading to dour grey. Even her fellow Hufflepuffs, Susan had found, were decidedly sombre.
This was compounded by the fact that her fellows had also been spending much less time with her since her insistence on staying friends with Harry. Add in Justin's (and now Harry's) petrification, and she was beginning to run out of friends at all. That said, there were some surprising perks to the entire situation, most notably were the colossal, oversized mirrored sunglasses currently sported by one Professor Severus Snape. As always, the tall, dark, and sallow man's expression was unreadably blank. Businesslike even. But the stoic and grim look was utterly ruined by those 'disco' specs (as the muggle-borns were wont to call them) from last decade.
Snape loomed over them as he shepherded Susan's class through the halls, on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Bustling along wordlessly, he was sticking especially close to the muggle-borns, a tall black blob of sourness with bedazzled bug-eye lenses. If she hadn't valued her house's chances at winning the cup, Susan would've laughed at the sight of him.
Sweet relief came from her struggle to not dissolve into giggles, in the form of a tap on the shoulder. Looking to her left, she was taken by surprise - it was Ernie, falling into step with her. The usually prim boy scratched his blondish hair nervously, but with determined pomp. This was surely going to be... interesting.
After Ernie's leaning on her and then ignoring her, Susan was, suffice to say, feeling very peeved with him. She would let him have a bit of a nice squirm, maybe deflect from the issue. And then she'd let him stew for a good long while before even thinking of forgiving him - let him see how he liked it.
Clearing his throat very quietly, he began. "I wanted you to know - I'm sorry about Harry." Even in concession, he was as clear and well-spoken as ever, right down to his bluster. "I shouldn't have doubted him - or you - and I can only apologise for putting you in the fix I did."
It took Susan completely by surprise. Sure she had known Ernie could be very up-front about his mistakes, on the rare occasions he made them, but she had not expected this. But looking back, she really should've seen this coming with how damned proper he liked to be. His apology was so disarming that she stopped in her tracks, only for Ernie to take her by the arm and pull her along to stay with the pack of pupils.
"Let's not get ourselves barked at." A chuckle, and he pressed on. "But I really am sorry Susan." Holding out his other hand, he looked almost shy for a moment, or as close as Ernie could get. "Can we just be friends again?"
She had let him talk, at first just to say his piece. But when she saw his eyes, and remembered her two friends over in the hospital wing, the dam just sort of broke without the slightest effort. A rush of warm, almost sunny fondness flooded through her and she just yanked him into a hug with a muffled laugh against his shoulder.
"I take it that's a yes then?" came a small, familiar voice from behind her - Hannah. Half releasing Ernie, Susan looked around at the fidgeting other girl. Several things clicked into place in her head.
A sharp finger stuck out and she almost jabbed it at Hannah's thin nose. "Oh, I should've known you'd be using Ernie as the guinea pig!" The joking accusation brought a subtle, still-skittish smile to the blonde's face.
"I would do no such- ACK!" In a mere second, Susan had yanked Hannah into the hug, sniggering. Grim times did not have to mean joyless times. Marching along, with one arm around each, Susan just grinned her head off.
All of a sudden she noticed who was right next to Hannah. Still in his eternal loom over the students, walked Snape. Surely he must've noticed the whole exchange? Waiting with bated breath, the redhead could only ponder at the points this was going to cost them.
But, nothing. Not a sound or a peep, Snape just resolutely marching ahead as if he were completely oblivious to the trio. How odd. Susan was certainly thankful for whatever small mercy had been bestowed upon them. The cluster swept quickly through the corridors and up the spiral stairs of the tower, remaining in silence - especially the newly reunited trio of Hufflepuffs, keen to not press their luck. At the third floor they were ushered even more hurriedly along the corridor.
As they were almost at the classroom however, Snape threw out his arm, looking around. Presumably under the garish sunglasses, his eyes were raking over the students. Right next to him, Susan chanced a look up, catching sight of the muted realisation creeping onto his face. Quite suddenly, he barked out. "Where is Mr. Thomas?!" The question caused quite a commotion - and nobody had an answer as everyone mumbled to each other.
A spin on his heel and Snape glared back down the passageway. Susan followed just in time to see the red lining of Gryffindor robes whipping around the corner. Never in her life had she ever heard the dour potions master swear - and she suspected she never would again. And then Dean's voice screamed.
"LOCKHART! MIND THE STUDENTS!" Leaving the baffled head of Gilderoy poking out from his classroom, Snape almost flew down the corridor, swooping along at lightning speed. In a moment he was at the junction just in time to nearly crash into Dean, who was backing back into it.
"STUPID BOY!" Water blasted from Snape's wand, in front of Dean's face, not a moment too soon. Before her very eyes, Susan saw the boy turn suddenly rigid and stiff, the torrent of water saving him. Barrelling forward and spinning on his foot, Snape followed the torrent and tackled the human statue to the ground as a serpentine pair of jaws shot into sight and chomped on thin air. Face firmly pointed down, Snape swished his wand in a brutal fashion.
Blood exploded out of the creature's neck, head thrashing and vicious hisses ringing down the corridor. The head rounded on Snape, away from the children, but Snape was already moving. The man was like a blurred shadow, raining spells without looking, all finding their mark. And then one sailed over the monster to expand a black void in the corridor, blotting out all view of whatever was going on. All this in barely a few seconds.
Face white, half-stammering, Gilderoy beckoned them all quickly into his classroom, slipping on two extra pairs of sunglasses to the ones he already had. It was a tense silence that followed, punctuated only by distant sounds of magical violence, and Gilderoy sending a shimmering, ghostly parrot from his wand, out the open window. Uneasily, he sat at his desk, wand in his lap and pointed at the door. All trace of his usual dandy had vanished. The classroom was at the end of the corridor - there was no way out that did not go back towards the danger.
In silence, they waited, every shaded eye on the heavy, wooden door that did not look nearly so heavy and thick as usual. Just one little door, not at all designed to stand up to a fully grown giant snake in the slightest. Memory of the design of those fangs bubbled to the forefront of Susan's mind - what they might do to human flesh. Great big, vicious swordlike teeth, just the right size to snap through her.
The sharp clasp of Ernie's hand yanked her back to reality. On the other side, Hannah had done the same. Together they sat, hands clammy, huddled together in a little daze. Blood rushing through her ears, Susan gripped back, trying to quell the dizzying pirouettes churning deep in her guts. The frantic drumbeat of her heart gave a little lurch when the noises outside died. Dead? Serpent or Snape? Were they all next?
And then the spell was broken as a crackle of flames from Lockhart's office heralded the arrival of Professors Dumbledore, Sinistra and Vector - of the Arithmancy department - the latter two on either side of him. All three had their wands out and pointed at the door.
All trace of the headmaster's usual bumble was gone, the lanky man's knobbled fingers expertly holding his equally-knobbled wand. Something about his posture, the springy, tightness of youth moving with far more dexterity and precision than Susan had ever seen. The carefree boy-face had been replaced by authority and focus one might expect from McGonagall or Susan's aunt. He was also sporting the largest and fanciest pair of sunglasses Susan had ever seen. Vivid pink and yellow stripes ran along the frame, clashing horribly with the magenta, reflective surface of the lenses - lenses the size of dinner-plates. And then there were the feathered wings spreading out from them! Had the situation not been quite so serious, she would've laughed.
A sigh ran through the entire class. Even Gilderoy looked relieved, standing and falling into step with them. A quiet word between them and they marched in formation. Sinistra edged forward first, flanked by Dumbledore and Vector, with Gilderoy bringing up the rear with a swish of his hair. Coming up to one side of the door, the astronomy mistress flicked her wand and the door shuddered, taking on an emerald glow.
Whatever it was, it certainly meant something to the teachers. Almost in unison, they visibly relaxed and another swish of Sinistra's stone-inset wand swung the heavy door wide open. In the doorway, hair and robes matted from head to toe in thick, dark blood, stood Professor Snape. The stench was awful, like he had crawled up a morgue's waste-water pipe, but the man grimly stood there, still in those silly mirrored glasses, like it was nothing.
"The beast lives. Five points from Gryffindor for Mr. Thomas's severe lack of judgement." A small pause as Snape suddenly gave a little start, as if a switch had been flicked inside him. "This is Basilisk blood," he half-muttered, quickly whipping out a small phial and stroking his wand over his robes. As the wood trailed over, the blood moved, clumping and following, rolling into a growing ball at the tip as he siphoned the slick mohogany-coloured ooze.
At the very back of the class, drowned out amid the sudden buzzing of students, Susan let go of her friends' captive hands and yanked them both into a rib-crushing hug.
After several seconds of nigh-hyperventilation and asphyxiating cuddling, Susan let them both go with a long breath. She took a moment to straighten out her now-thatched tangle of hair before speaking.
"P-promise me one thing, both of you - right now!" Susan gabbled, words tumbling over each other as if they were a Quidditch pileup, "Whatever stupid, braindead ways we make each other angry over the years, we'll always be friends?" On the one hand, she hated the desperation in her voice. But on the other it was easily the most honest demand she had ever made. At least, so far.
Next morning, Professor Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Neither, it seemed, was Hagrid. In Dumbledore's place, Professor McGonagall had been seen overseeing breakfast, though the headmaster's chair remained empty. Earlier, the Gryffindors had suddenly found Professor Vector in McGonagall's place, changing the fliers on the common room notice board. While she had declined to comment besides simply saying that McGonagall was extremely busy, the headmaster's absence caused them to put two and two together.
In the Hospital Wing, Harry was stiff as a board, half-dressed in Quidditch gear, posed as if he leant over a sink. It made keeping him upright in the bed tricky, so Madame Pomfrey had arranged a series of floating pillars to follow the slight lean of the boy's back. He was so motionless to Ginny's eyes, it was unnerving. She'd taken Tom with her, hoping reading from him might help, but there was no change.
Harry was lost to the world until the Mandrakes were ready. The girl bit her lip slightly, watching his glassy eyes, the clean dark tangle of hair hanging over them. Worry and distaste churned in her gut. She shouldn't be here so much. Hesitantly she reached out a hand to almost touch some of that hair, even as a nagging feeling in the back of her mind said not to-
Crack!
A house elf popped out of nowhere at the foot of the bed. With a yell, Ginny leapt to her feet. "YOU!" Nimble fingers slipped Tom behind her back before the elf could see. "Happy now?!"
'Sméagol' didn't seem very happy at all, taking one look at the petrified boy and wailing.
"No! Too late too late! D- 'Sméagol' must punish himself severely for this! The greatest, the goodest of all Wizardkind! Gone! Gooone!"
Angry red sparks shot from Ginny's black wand, bouncing off the elf's potato-like noggin and showering around him until he fell over. "No thanks to you, Harry is not gone!" she shrieked, advancing on him. "Now get out!"
"N-not gone?" bleated 'Sméagol', blinking up at Ginny, suddenly looking like a puppy with a bone dangled over it.
Wrinkling her nose, the redhead slid Tom into her bag behind her on the bedside chair. "He's petrified and will be back once Professor Sprout makes the cure. Now what do you keep bothering Harry for?"
"D- 'Sméagol cannot say! 'Sméagol' mustn't! Can't can't can't! 'Sméagol' must find Harry Potter's diary!" And just like that, the elf vanished with another crack.
Groaning, Ginny sank back into her seat, fairly sure some fresh chaos was being blighted upon the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. Rubbing her face, she gave Harry's hand a pat, before pulling herself up and shouldering her bag. She needed a walk, to clear her thoughts.
Plodding out of the hospital wing, she ambled up to the bridge corridor that spanned the gap to the clock tower. It was always loud amidst the gears, but the high platforms always gave it a solitary vibe, even when it was highly trafficked.
Circling around the clunking, heavy gears, Ginny stepped up to the glass clock face, peering out over the old courtyard. Worn and overgrown, so far below. Further out, the wooden bridge zigzagged crookedly across the valley beyond, and to the stone circle. This entire part of the castle was so particularly old. And something about it made all this waiting around seem like an age.
Suppressing the urge to grumble as she was keenly aware of Professor Vector below, tap-tap-tapping at the gears and cogs with her wand, rapping a kind of rhythm against them, Ginny quietly breathed out, breath fogging the window. With a frown, she wiped it clear and kept looking. Gradually, her eyes drifted down the far hill, following the dirt trail towards… Hagrid's Hut. It would be empty, and it wasn't too late in the day…
Something clicked in her mind, and a small hand patted the ancient glass. It was time for answers. Digging into her bag, she drew out the invisibility cloak she'd used to visit Harry. For a second she held it up, looking over its delicate, silvery folds. All one piece and had the vague scent of Harry on it. Gut churning, she pulled the cloak on before it overwhelmed her. Making sure she was well covered, she trailed her hand on the bannisters, and slowly crept down the righthand staircase of the clock tower.
Professor Vector was a perceptive witch, with a bit of a reputation, but the clock mechanism was loud and it had to be drawing most of her attention the way she was fiddling with it. Hermione would probably have a running commentary on exactly what Vector's Arithmancy was doing here. Ginny simply chalked it all up as maintenance, and importantly relied on the grinding of metal to mask her shoes against the wooden steps. Round and round, back and forth the steps wound, down the floors. Holding her breath as she passed Vector, she stopped when Vector suddenly straightened up.
She was a medium-sized, slightly rounded figure, layered in red robes that rustled. Almost like a pointy tent from behind, with a tall, conical brimless hat to sit on top of her long, dark hair. Ginny's eyes fixed on that point, tracking how it wobbled. Vector seemed to be listening.
Surely if she turned around, she would see nothing. But Ginny still had no desire for the teacher to do so.
Seconds tracked past, and still Professor Vector hardly moved.
Then, she sighed, drawing out her wand and rapping it against her thigh, murmuring an incantation - a long one. It gave way to counting. "One two three, one two three, one two three four-" All at once, the great clock pendulum lurched, the great gears turning, and the bell right at the top of the shaft began to clang.
Praying the Professor had moved on to more of her duties, Ginny chanced a step down. No reaction. Another, and she was in luck! Bit by bit, she edged down until she was definitely too far to be heard.
Slipping out into the hall at the bottom, she ducked around the pendulum - larger than she was - and bustled into the courtyard. The walk to Hagrid's was quiet, the weather balmy. The grounds were so quiet with a curfew in place, almost haunting.
The cabin stood squat as it ever had, the door locked firm.
"Alohomora," whispered Ginny, and the wooden door swung open with a creak. Everything looked just as if Hagrid had left for five minutes. The teapot rested on the table, a plate of food lay out, knitting was slung over the arm of Hagrid's chair.
And yet.
It felt so empty, the small room dwarfing her. Barren in a way it never had been.
Frowning, Ginny dropped her bag into one of the cosy armchairs and set about searching - maybe Hagrid had scrawled a clue? She checked shelves, cupboards, under the chair cushions, even peeked amidst the floorboards and rafters. But there was nothing.
Taking a break, and making herself a mug of steaming tea, she took out Tom and flipped him open.
'Say, Tom, did you ever know Hagrid to have any habit about where he hid things?'
'Me? I am afraid not. We never knew each other that well. Why?'
For a second she wondered if it was a good idea to answer, but Tom had been truthful with her the entire time they'd known each other. So, carefully, she wrote out, 'I'm trying to see if he might have left a clue. His monster was a spider, but Hermione's certain the Chamber monster is a Basilisk - Hagrid must've picked a rotten time to raise something.' She'd been thinking about this for a while now, and the more it seemed to make sense.
Tom took a long time to come back this time, but eventually the crimson ink did surface. 'That makes sense. Clearly I was wrong in my assumptions when I caught him. But why would Hagrid leave a clue now? That spider must be long gone.'
'Maybe, or maybe…' Looking up over a mouthful of her drink, she spied a trail of small spiders, through the muggy window. The trail was thin, hard to make out in the low sun, but as her eyes followed them, they seemed to be going all in one direction. Into the dark trees.
"There are spiders in the forest," she breathed, almost hypnotised, Hermione's words hanging in her mind.
'Ginny? Ginny?! GINNY?! What are you doing?'
Next update won't have quite as long a gap, I can only hope I didn't lose all follower momentum.
Also, some housekeeping since a lot has happened over the past few years. Most chiefly, Rowling is a TERF and I strongly advise any HP stuff you buy be second hand.
So without further ado...
+++++
Chapter 10: A Castle Dour
"Wormtail, all I need to know is if Harry is alive or dead." Harshly, the voice of the book cut right across the inane babbling. "Cease your panic and be quick about it."
The twitching rat's heartbeat was thoroughly out of control, truly a contemptible, panicky, mangy little servant. Riddle longed to transform him on the spot and leave him to Dumbledore just to end the revulsion. Alas, he was still necessary - indeed, possibly more so than even Riddle himself realised. So much that happened in decades of being unused. "He-he is alive, Master! P-petrified!" Wormtail squeaked, visions of impending slaughter radiating out from his brain so hard that it was legitimately making it difficult to think.
A game-changer, certainly, but not one that would necessarily need uprooting of the plan. "And the target mudblood? You didn't mention him at all, the Thomas boy?" The panic, oh the blessed fear and subservience. The opiate that it was, permeating too much. Wormtail would have to be reassured, lest Riddle completely descend into indulging in it that he could not use reason. "Stop cowering - you are not going to be smitten by me today you stupid little fool!"
"M-missed him! By the smallest window, but he left just before the-the snak-"
"The Basilisk is a great and noble magical being of more history and lineage than your pathetic, blood-traitor family and 'friends' all combined. It is not a mere 'snake' and you shall not demean it as such." If only he had nostrils to flare, Riddle's diary would be doing so.
"The Basilisk," Pettigrew continued, still flakey and exuding dread, but more stable, not nearly as intoxicating, "arrived. Nobody yet knows he was the target - at least not so far as I can tell."
Half-tempted to spring open and swat the unsuspecting minion with his cover, Riddle contented himself in processing the developments. "Thomas might as well be the next target then, we just need to wait - not long, but enough that it won't be foreseen. This was not your failing, Wormtail." The sensation of relief almost acted as a sobering aid, cleansing his system more. "What is important now is to watch, wait, and- Ginny is coming up the stairs." At once, Pettigrew hopped off the bed and skittered away underneath it.
A second later, the heavy wooden door swung in a wide arc and the shaking young figure of Tom's favourite redhead burst in. Without stopping, she threw herself onto her bedspread next to Tom, great wracking sobs filling the air. Would that he still had a body, Riddle would know exactly how to soothe the situation. A hug, false sweet words, and charming tone would have seen Ginny entirely under control.
Unfortunately, he lacked the arms and the voice to do so. And so, the book was only able to wait out the storm of anguish. The girl cried and bawled and wailed rather pitifully, before, mercifully quickly, sitting up and punching the pillow. She let out an almost strangled roar, yanking the unfortunate piece of cushioning over her head and throwing it across the room. Anger, fury. Better, Tom could sympathise with that - and it did not invade his thoughts nearly as much as a result. Whether or not it would be better in the practical sense to stoke or smother Ginny's anger remained to be seen, but it was certainly far more tolerable.
Just as suddenly, Tom found himself snatched up, flipped open, and an extremely messy scrawl written onto one of his pages.
'Tom! Harry has been petrified!'
Time to play the part then - or was it really such a performance? Tom confessed to be getting to find it quite engaging, having an innocent young pureblood to liberate from such treacherous upbringings. It felt like a challenge, almost. 'What?! How is he?'
'He's in the hospital wing. They say he'll be alright, but still… It has been a shock.'
'I see - you have been very brave Ginny. You should get some rest.'
Ginny scowled at that, before replying. 'I'm not tired. Besides, Hermione reckons she has an idea on what the monster is so we're just waiting for some time to get everyone together.'
That could be a problem. This had better be handled rather delicately. 'She does? How?'
'No idea.' A chew of the quill before she replied, no doubt still in a tizzy. 'That's Hermione for you. Great thinker but a horrible communicator sometimes.'
'If you could be so kind as to keep me in the loop, it would be appreciated.' Hmm, maybe a little too over-interested? 'I shall worry if you are absent too long.' There, better, more towards something more tangible. Plus it flattered her.
"We are dealing with a Basilisk!" Uttered Hermione, almost breathlessly. The table was splayed out with illustrations, excerpts, open books and even a small map of some sort. At the convergence of the grand array, she stood with her arms crossed and a small pointer in one hand, for all the world as if her four friends (and Ginny) were students at a lecture. For all intents and purposes, they may as well be, cloistered away in the quiet corner of the library and with nowhere to hide from the enforced briefing. Getting here all at the same time had not been simple to arrange, with Ginny herself having to borrow the invisibility cloak and fabricate a very hasty excuse with the help of a favour off of Harper, a boy from her year she had once lent… was it some potion ingredients? No, those couldn't be given back.
A sharp rap of the pointer on the table and Ginny found herself on the receiving end of what she had heard Ron describe as 'the gaze of judgement', but had yet to experience. In her personal opinion, she would have dubbed it the 'hawkeye of mild consternation' - it was long-winded enough to suit Hermione.
"Pay attention." Returning to her businesslike tone, Hermione directed her little silver rod at an illustration of what looked to be a rather monstrous snake indeed. The little person silhouette next to it for scale was pretty grim, the fang length apparently ranging from 'only' bread-knife all the way up to claymore. "The Basilisk's fangs are highly venomous and will be fatal without extremely powerful healing magic."
"Does it need that?" Pondered Ginny aloud, shooting shifty looks down at the teeth in question. It certainly looked as if one snap would be the end of anything smaller than the giant squid. Why hadn't it killed anyone yet if it had those?!
A snort erupted from Draco, feet perched on the corner of the table despite repeated attempts from both Susan and the lecturer to remove them. "As if magical creatures ever need most of the traits they have."
"They do tend to defy logic, but this is not the most dangerous part of the Basilisk..." A firm jab onto the corner of a sheaf and a second illustration was dragged out from under a long and apparently futile antidotes list. Immediately, laughter broke from both attending Weasleys, Ginny leaning onto her brother's shoulder for support. The picture featured the most comically oversized eyes Ginny had ever seen, great bulbous yellow and round like a bizarre parody of Professor McGonagall's legendary glare. The picture was made worse by the flat, forward-facing face that sported what appeared to be a fanged scowl, as well as a dangling forked tongue. Quite clearly, whoever had been responsible for this had never actually seen a Basilisk.
Struggling to get words out, Ron held up a hand in the face of Hermione's ever-creasing frown, he huffed and puffed before finally, "W-what's it gonna do? Stern word us to d-death?!" And then he was lost again, joining Ginny in side-clutching guffaws. It was spreading too, the beginnings of small titters making their way onto Susan's round face.
"Wait-wait no!" Taking the opportunity of a small lull in her giggling, Ginny went next. "Maybe it'll glare us to death! And th-threaten detenio-AHAHAHAHAHA" At least she got the gist out, she self-satisfactorily mused before she succumbed fully to her fit.
Pursing her lips somewhat irritably, Hermione strove on with her presentation. "As it happens, it can and will stare you to death." An extra tap on those stupid eyes. "Eye-contact is fatal."
Susan held up a hand to interrupt, despite the rather annoyed look she got for it. "Wait, why is everyone petrified and not dead then?"
"That's what I wondered at first," gabbled Hermione, as if afraid of being interrupted again, "But really in hindsight it is quite obvious - there has always been something in the way." Counting on her hand, she listed. "Mrs. Norris saw the reflection from Myrtle's flood; Colin Creevy's camera lens saved him; Justin saw it through Nick, who is already dead; Harry was another reflection - mirror this time." Concluding with her self-satisfied smirk Ron had a tendency to describe in more detail than Ginny felt was necessary, Hermione's pointer tapped a map of some sort that crisscrossed with all kinds of lines. "Hogwarts has one of the most extensive plumbing systems in magical history, dating all the way back to the late first millennium and according to revised plans from the archives section, there is ample space for a Basilisk to move, within reason."
"I'll admit, Granger, you make quite a detective," drawled the posse's blond, still with his perfectly-shined shoes propped up on the corner, "But what exactly do we do with this information?"
An answer was ready and waiting. "We protect ourselves first." Reaching down, Hermione heaved a small satchel onto the table and tipped it up, a wide array of hand mirrors tumbling out - some silver and pretty, others cheap and utilitarian, but all freshly polished. "I've mail-ordered a load of thick sunglasses for us, but until they arrive, use these to look around corners." Right in that moment, the girl could've passed for a smug, sentient bush.
"Fat lot of good it'll do," muttered Susan, nonetheless snatching up the nearest one, "Just look at those teeth." A mute gesture towards the first, much more threatening sketch. "Just chomp and, it'd be over - they'd go right through…" An idle digit played along her collar bone, the skin goosebumped as her panic heightened. Slightly unsettled, Ginny stared as the finger poked at the all-too squishy-looking flesh above the bone's contour. "I'm too young to die, I'm not a ba-"
Plink. A terrified rook bounced off her shoulder, the armoured soldier screaming wildly as he gripped the battlements, holding on for dear life, his whole world plummeting down, down towards the floor. "Relax, Susan," its red-headed launcher groaned, leaning back into his seat, "You're getting crazy."
Susan shot Ron a frown, but seemed stabilised. "You'd be singing a different tune if it was a giant spider."
"There are giant spiders in the forest," Hermione mumbled, as if on instinct, reorganising some of her papers to be neater, "Acromantula."
As if he were a marionette out of a grotesque pantomime, Ron's head swivelled to stare at Hermione, eyes almost evacuating his skull. "I did not need to know that."
"So," put in Neville, who had been completely silent up until now, "we can protect ourselves with these." A wave of his own mirror to illustrate. "But what else can we actually do with the information?"
Eager to return to the topic at hand, Hermione beamed at him. "Quite simple - we pass it on. After last year's You-Know-Who incident, I rather think we might be believed this time."
"Well I must say, my dear," said the dashing man as he leant back in his office chair, golden curls shimmering in the afternoon sun, "You have done very well in your detective work!" Gilderoy stretched in his seat, lavender robes of the finest silk shimmering under the dancing light. Offering a fond smile to Hermione, he continued. "To think, the school saved by the actions of such a bright young lady - I may yet need to write another book on this whole affair."
"Pleasure to help!" Hermione gabbled, breathlessly. Fingers clutching her bag, she flushed and tried not to stammer. "It seems so obvious in hindsight, doesn't it? But you wouldn't know to think of it unless you had the right clues." In all honesty, she really did try her best to not dwell on the idea of the book. But. Well, book, Gilderoy Lockhart - there were few things that went so hand-in-hand for her. "Thank you so much for listening! To be honest I was somewhat terrified you might not believe me..."
Gilderoy waved away the sentiment like it was nothing. "My dear, I've seen your studies and your intellect." Wink. And she felt almost like she would melt. "Besides, your case was extremely well-made." A bright quill with what Hermione recognised as Aboriginal patterns on it had diligently copied out notes from her presentation. Finishing, the feather utensil neatly hopped back into its inkwell and fell still. Swishing his wand, Gilderoy summoned the parchment to his hand, looking through the notes.
She'd like to see Ron or Draco make this into something to belittle her over. She waited, fighting the urge to swing her feet in her chair. Just let him absorb the information and think.
"The first thing to be done is to find the entrance to this Chamber," Gilderoy pondered aloud, locks swaying dreamily. "Once we know where that is, this shall get a lot easier." Glancing up at Hermione, he quirked an eyebrow. "Any nuggets on that matter?"
Jutting her jaw nervously, she hesitated. It was an idea, but lacking far too much information for her liking. Nevertheless, he had asked. "Well… I had a thought about how we could find it, yes, but it relies on some unknowns. The first thing we need to know is-" Uncomfortably, she gave a little cough. "Who, um. That is to say, the fatality fifty years ago."
Nodding curiously, the professor's posture changed, more serious and gentle. Sitting up and clearing his throat, he set down the sheaf of parchment. "I see, yes. I can ask to see the sealed files. Of course you yourself won't have to look - and in any case it wouldn't be appropriate."
"Right, right, yes of course G- Professor!" That had very nearly been horrendously embarassing a slip. Hermione buried the near-miss and forged on. "You'll get back to me when you know?"
Deftly, Gilderoy nodded, running his thumb down the notes, finally tapping at one line. "Of course, of course my dear." Folding the notes, he stood with a dazzling flourish of his gorgeously tailored shoulder-cape. The gold really did look good against the purple. "In the meanwhile, I shall order in a flock of roosters. Not terribly dramatic, but perhaps we could fluff things up after all is said and done - you know how the public likes a good story!"
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione briefly pondered the ethics of embellishing. That was swiftly tossed out of her thirteen-year-old mind however, at the prospect of being at the forefront of a grand tale with Gilderoy. "Oh, that's a brilliant countermeasure!"
With the latest attack, school security was tightening. As such, there weren't many opportunities for standing around chatting outside of common room hours any more. Teachers haunted them, keen to get their charges into classrooms. A grim pall had cast over the castle, settling into the moods of everyone, and even the building itself, beige stonework fading to dour grey. Even her fellow Hufflepuffs, Susan had found, were decidedly sombre.
This was compounded by the fact that her fellows had also been spending much less time with her since her insistence on staying friends with Harry. Add in Justin's (and now Harry's) petrification, and she was beginning to run out of friends at all. That said, there were some surprising perks to the entire situation, most notably were the colossal, oversized mirrored sunglasses currently sported by one Professor Severus Snape. As always, the tall, dark, and sallow man's expression was unreadably blank. Businesslike even. But the stoic and grim look was utterly ruined by those 'disco' specs (as the muggle-borns were wont to call them) from last decade.
Snape loomed over them as he shepherded Susan's class through the halls, on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Bustling along wordlessly, he was sticking especially close to the muggle-borns, a tall black blob of sourness with bedazzled bug-eye lenses. If she hadn't valued her house's chances at winning the cup, Susan would've laughed at the sight of him.
Sweet relief came from her struggle to not dissolve into giggles, in the form of a tap on the shoulder. Looking to her left, she was taken by surprise - it was Ernie, falling into step with her. The usually prim boy scratched his blondish hair nervously, but with determined pomp. This was surely going to be... interesting.
After Ernie's leaning on her and then ignoring her, Susan was, suffice to say, feeling very peeved with him. She would let him have a bit of a nice squirm, maybe deflect from the issue. And then she'd let him stew for a good long while before even thinking of forgiving him - let him see how he liked it.
Clearing his throat very quietly, he began. "I wanted you to know - I'm sorry about Harry." Even in concession, he was as clear and well-spoken as ever, right down to his bluster. "I shouldn't have doubted him - or you - and I can only apologise for putting you in the fix I did."
It took Susan completely by surprise. Sure she had known Ernie could be very up-front about his mistakes, on the rare occasions he made them, but she had not expected this. But looking back, she really should've seen this coming with how damned proper he liked to be. His apology was so disarming that she stopped in her tracks, only for Ernie to take her by the arm and pull her along to stay with the pack of pupils.
"Let's not get ourselves barked at." A chuckle, and he pressed on. "But I really am sorry Susan." Holding out his other hand, he looked almost shy for a moment, or as close as Ernie could get. "Can we just be friends again?"
She had let him talk, at first just to say his piece. But when she saw his eyes, and remembered her two friends over in the hospital wing, the dam just sort of broke without the slightest effort. A rush of warm, almost sunny fondness flooded through her and she just yanked him into a hug with a muffled laugh against his shoulder.
"I take it that's a yes then?" came a small, familiar voice from behind her - Hannah. Half releasing Ernie, Susan looked around at the fidgeting other girl. Several things clicked into place in her head.
A sharp finger stuck out and she almost jabbed it at Hannah's thin nose. "Oh, I should've known you'd be using Ernie as the guinea pig!" The joking accusation brought a subtle, still-skittish smile to the blonde's face.
"I would do no such- ACK!" In a mere second, Susan had yanked Hannah into the hug, sniggering. Grim times did not have to mean joyless times. Marching along, with one arm around each, Susan just grinned her head off.
All of a sudden she noticed who was right next to Hannah. Still in his eternal loom over the students, walked Snape. Surely he must've noticed the whole exchange? Waiting with bated breath, the redhead could only ponder at the points this was going to cost them.
But, nothing. Not a sound or a peep, Snape just resolutely marching ahead as if he were completely oblivious to the trio. How odd. Susan was certainly thankful for whatever small mercy had been bestowed upon them. The cluster swept quickly through the corridors and up the spiral stairs of the tower, remaining in silence - especially the newly reunited trio of Hufflepuffs, keen to not press their luck. At the third floor they were ushered even more hurriedly along the corridor.
As they were almost at the classroom however, Snape threw out his arm, looking around. Presumably under the garish sunglasses, his eyes were raking over the students. Right next to him, Susan chanced a look up, catching sight of the muted realisation creeping onto his face. Quite suddenly, he barked out. "Where is Mr. Thomas?!" The question caused quite a commotion - and nobody had an answer as everyone mumbled to each other.
A spin on his heel and Snape glared back down the passageway. Susan followed just in time to see the red lining of Gryffindor robes whipping around the corner. Never in her life had she ever heard the dour potions master swear - and she suspected she never would again. And then Dean's voice screamed.
"LOCKHART! MIND THE STUDENTS!" Leaving the baffled head of Gilderoy poking out from his classroom, Snape almost flew down the corridor, swooping along at lightning speed. In a moment he was at the junction just in time to nearly crash into Dean, who was backing back into it.
"STUPID BOY!" Water blasted from Snape's wand, in front of Dean's face, not a moment too soon. Before her very eyes, Susan saw the boy turn suddenly rigid and stiff, the torrent of water saving him. Barrelling forward and spinning on his foot, Snape followed the torrent and tackled the human statue to the ground as a serpentine pair of jaws shot into sight and chomped on thin air. Face firmly pointed down, Snape swished his wand in a brutal fashion.
Blood exploded out of the creature's neck, head thrashing and vicious hisses ringing down the corridor. The head rounded on Snape, away from the children, but Snape was already moving. The man was like a blurred shadow, raining spells without looking, all finding their mark. And then one sailed over the monster to expand a black void in the corridor, blotting out all view of whatever was going on. All this in barely a few seconds.
Face white, half-stammering, Gilderoy beckoned them all quickly into his classroom, slipping on two extra pairs of sunglasses to the ones he already had. It was a tense silence that followed, punctuated only by distant sounds of magical violence, and Gilderoy sending a shimmering, ghostly parrot from his wand, out the open window. Uneasily, he sat at his desk, wand in his lap and pointed at the door. All trace of his usual dandy had vanished. The classroom was at the end of the corridor - there was no way out that did not go back towards the danger.
In silence, they waited, every shaded eye on the heavy, wooden door that did not look nearly so heavy and thick as usual. Just one little door, not at all designed to stand up to a fully grown giant snake in the slightest. Memory of the design of those fangs bubbled to the forefront of Susan's mind - what they might do to human flesh. Great big, vicious swordlike teeth, just the right size to snap through her.
The sharp clasp of Ernie's hand yanked her back to reality. On the other side, Hannah had done the same. Together they sat, hands clammy, huddled together in a little daze. Blood rushing through her ears, Susan gripped back, trying to quell the dizzying pirouettes churning deep in her guts. The frantic drumbeat of her heart gave a little lurch when the noises outside died. Dead? Serpent or Snape? Were they all next?
And then the spell was broken as a crackle of flames from Lockhart's office heralded the arrival of Professors Dumbledore, Sinistra and Vector - of the Arithmancy department - the latter two on either side of him. All three had their wands out and pointed at the door.
All trace of the headmaster's usual bumble was gone, the lanky man's knobbled fingers expertly holding his equally-knobbled wand. Something about his posture, the springy, tightness of youth moving with far more dexterity and precision than Susan had ever seen. The carefree boy-face had been replaced by authority and focus one might expect from McGonagall or Susan's aunt. He was also sporting the largest and fanciest pair of sunglasses Susan had ever seen. Vivid pink and yellow stripes ran along the frame, clashing horribly with the magenta, reflective surface of the lenses - lenses the size of dinner-plates. And then there were the feathered wings spreading out from them! Had the situation not been quite so serious, she would've laughed.
A sigh ran through the entire class. Even Gilderoy looked relieved, standing and falling into step with them. A quiet word between them and they marched in formation. Sinistra edged forward first, flanked by Dumbledore and Vector, with Gilderoy bringing up the rear with a swish of his hair. Coming up to one side of the door, the astronomy mistress flicked her wand and the door shuddered, taking on an emerald glow.
Whatever it was, it certainly meant something to the teachers. Almost in unison, they visibly relaxed and another swish of Sinistra's stone-inset wand swung the heavy door wide open. In the doorway, hair and robes matted from head to toe in thick, dark blood, stood Professor Snape. The stench was awful, like he had crawled up a morgue's waste-water pipe, but the man grimly stood there, still in those silly mirrored glasses, like it was nothing.
"The beast lives. Five points from Gryffindor for Mr. Thomas's severe lack of judgement." A small pause as Snape suddenly gave a little start, as if a switch had been flicked inside him. "This is Basilisk blood," he half-muttered, quickly whipping out a small phial and stroking his wand over his robes. As the wood trailed over, the blood moved, clumping and following, rolling into a growing ball at the tip as he siphoned the slick mohogany-coloured ooze.
At the very back of the class, drowned out amid the sudden buzzing of students, Susan let go of her friends' captive hands and yanked them both into a rib-crushing hug.
After several seconds of nigh-hyperventilation and asphyxiating cuddling, Susan let them both go with a long breath. She took a moment to straighten out her now-thatched tangle of hair before speaking.
"P-promise me one thing, both of you - right now!" Susan gabbled, words tumbling over each other as if they were a Quidditch pileup, "Whatever stupid, braindead ways we make each other angry over the years, we'll always be friends?" On the one hand, she hated the desperation in her voice. But on the other it was easily the most honest demand she had ever made. At least, so far.
Next morning, Professor Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Neither, it seemed, was Hagrid. In Dumbledore's place, Professor McGonagall had been seen overseeing breakfast, though the headmaster's chair remained empty. Earlier, the Gryffindors had suddenly found Professor Vector in McGonagall's place, changing the fliers on the common room notice board. While she had declined to comment besides simply saying that McGonagall was extremely busy, the headmaster's absence caused them to put two and two together.
In the Hospital Wing, Harry was stiff as a board, half-dressed in Quidditch gear, posed as if he leant over a sink. It made keeping him upright in the bed tricky, so Madame Pomfrey had arranged a series of floating pillars to follow the slight lean of the boy's back. He was so motionless to Ginny's eyes, it was unnerving. She'd taken Tom with her, hoping reading from him might help, but there was no change.
Harry was lost to the world until the Mandrakes were ready. The girl bit her lip slightly, watching his glassy eyes, the clean dark tangle of hair hanging over them. Worry and distaste churned in her gut. She shouldn't be here so much. Hesitantly she reached out a hand to almost touch some of that hair, even as a nagging feeling in the back of her mind said not to-
Crack!
A house elf popped out of nowhere at the foot of the bed. With a yell, Ginny leapt to her feet. "YOU!" Nimble fingers slipped Tom behind her back before the elf could see. "Happy now?!"
'Sméagol' didn't seem very happy at all, taking one look at the petrified boy and wailing.
"No! Too late too late! D- 'Sméagol' must punish himself severely for this! The greatest, the goodest of all Wizardkind! Gone! Gooone!"
Angry red sparks shot from Ginny's black wand, bouncing off the elf's potato-like noggin and showering around him until he fell over. "No thanks to you, Harry is not gone!" she shrieked, advancing on him. "Now get out!"
"N-not gone?" bleated 'Sméagol', blinking up at Ginny, suddenly looking like a puppy with a bone dangled over it.
Wrinkling her nose, the redhead slid Tom into her bag behind her on the bedside chair. "He's petrified and will be back once Professor Sprout makes the cure. Now what do you keep bothering Harry for?"
"D- 'Sméagol cannot say! 'Sméagol' mustn't! Can't can't can't! 'Sméagol' must find Harry Potter's diary!" And just like that, the elf vanished with another crack.
Groaning, Ginny sank back into her seat, fairly sure some fresh chaos was being blighted upon the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. Rubbing her face, she gave Harry's hand a pat, before pulling herself up and shouldering her bag. She needed a walk, to clear her thoughts.
Plodding out of the hospital wing, she ambled up to the bridge corridor that spanned the gap to the clock tower. It was always loud amidst the gears, but the high platforms always gave it a solitary vibe, even when it was highly trafficked.
Circling around the clunking, heavy gears, Ginny stepped up to the glass clock face, peering out over the old courtyard. Worn and overgrown, so far below. Further out, the wooden bridge zigzagged crookedly across the valley beyond, and to the stone circle. This entire part of the castle was so particularly old. And something about it made all this waiting around seem like an age.
Suppressing the urge to grumble as she was keenly aware of Professor Vector below, tap-tap-tapping at the gears and cogs with her wand, rapping a kind of rhythm against them, Ginny quietly breathed out, breath fogging the window. With a frown, she wiped it clear and kept looking. Gradually, her eyes drifted down the far hill, following the dirt trail towards… Hagrid's Hut. It would be empty, and it wasn't too late in the day…
Something clicked in her mind, and a small hand patted the ancient glass. It was time for answers. Digging into her bag, she drew out the invisibility cloak she'd used to visit Harry. For a second she held it up, looking over its delicate, silvery folds. All one piece and had the vague scent of Harry on it. Gut churning, she pulled the cloak on before it overwhelmed her. Making sure she was well covered, she trailed her hand on the bannisters, and slowly crept down the righthand staircase of the clock tower.
Professor Vector was a perceptive witch, with a bit of a reputation, but the clock mechanism was loud and it had to be drawing most of her attention the way she was fiddling with it. Hermione would probably have a running commentary on exactly what Vector's Arithmancy was doing here. Ginny simply chalked it all up as maintenance, and importantly relied on the grinding of metal to mask her shoes against the wooden steps. Round and round, back and forth the steps wound, down the floors. Holding her breath as she passed Vector, she stopped when Vector suddenly straightened up.
She was a medium-sized, slightly rounded figure, layered in red robes that rustled. Almost like a pointy tent from behind, with a tall, conical brimless hat to sit on top of her long, dark hair. Ginny's eyes fixed on that point, tracking how it wobbled. Vector seemed to be listening.
Surely if she turned around, she would see nothing. But Ginny still had no desire for the teacher to do so.
Seconds tracked past, and still Professor Vector hardly moved.
Then, she sighed, drawing out her wand and rapping it against her thigh, murmuring an incantation - a long one. It gave way to counting. "One two three, one two three, one two three four-" All at once, the great clock pendulum lurched, the great gears turning, and the bell right at the top of the shaft began to clang.
Praying the Professor had moved on to more of her duties, Ginny chanced a step down. No reaction. Another, and she was in luck! Bit by bit, she edged down until she was definitely too far to be heard.
Slipping out into the hall at the bottom, she ducked around the pendulum - larger than she was - and bustled into the courtyard. The walk to Hagrid's was quiet, the weather balmy. The grounds were so quiet with a curfew in place, almost haunting.
The cabin stood squat as it ever had, the door locked firm.
"Alohomora," whispered Ginny, and the wooden door swung open with a creak. Everything looked just as if Hagrid had left for five minutes. The teapot rested on the table, a plate of food lay out, knitting was slung over the arm of Hagrid's chair.
And yet.
It felt so empty, the small room dwarfing her. Barren in a way it never had been.
Frowning, Ginny dropped her bag into one of the cosy armchairs and set about searching - maybe Hagrid had scrawled a clue? She checked shelves, cupboards, under the chair cushions, even peeked amidst the floorboards and rafters. But there was nothing.
Taking a break, and making herself a mug of steaming tea, she took out Tom and flipped him open.
'Say, Tom, did you ever know Hagrid to have any habit about where he hid things?'
'Me? I am afraid not. We never knew each other that well. Why?'
For a second she wondered if it was a good idea to answer, but Tom had been truthful with her the entire time they'd known each other. So, carefully, she wrote out, 'I'm trying to see if he might have left a clue. His monster was a spider, but Hermione's certain the Chamber monster is a Basilisk - Hagrid must've picked a rotten time to raise something.' She'd been thinking about this for a while now, and the more it seemed to make sense.
Tom took a long time to come back this time, but eventually the crimson ink did surface. 'That makes sense. Clearly I was wrong in my assumptions when I caught him. But why would Hagrid leave a clue now? That spider must be long gone.'
'Maybe, or maybe…' Looking up over a mouthful of her drink, she spied a trail of small spiders, through the muggy window. The trail was thin, hard to make out in the low sun, but as her eyes followed them, they seemed to be going all in one direction. Into the dark trees.
"There are spiders in the forest," she breathed, almost hypnotised, Hermione's words hanging in her mind.
'Ginny? Ginny?! GINNY?! What are you doing?'
+++++
Next update won't have quite as long a gap, I can only hope I didn't lose all follower momentum.
Also, some housekeeping since a lot has happened over the past few years. Most chiefly, Rowling is a TERF and I strongly advise any HP stuff you buy be second hand.
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