Rules of The Game: Hogwarts Years

Chapter 17: Ominous Messages

~*~

Since the bloody warning on the wall, the entire school had been on edge. It was rather bothersome to have an earlier curfew. Quidditch practices were shorter and always accompanied by a professor. On top of that, her time in the library was often the activity that had gotten cut short. If she were to ever learn anything about defence against the dark arts this year with Lockhart, she was often in need of some major reading and quiet practice.

Margaret moved her wand in the correct motion for the stinging hex as shown in the book before nodding, looking across the study table at Roni who was doing the same.

"Honestly, what were the hiring staff thinking making this Lockhart a professor?" Roni questioned in exasperation. "Even this last exam he gave was absolute rubbish."

"What did you answer for 'In what situation can a mugwort be of assistance in the heat of battle'?" Margaret questioned.

"Oh, I guessed," Roni admitted. "I chose 'It can distract your opponent with its pungent scent'."

"I put 'It explodes when touched by your enemies'," Margaret said. "None of the options were true so I closed my eyes and let my quill choose." This statement apparently amused Roni as she stifled her laughter in her hand. "Besides, mugwort is used in potions for skin infections." Roni scoffed, turning her page in her defence against the dark arts book. One loaned from the library of course since the required books Lockhart assigned were of his own creation. They were absolute rubbish. Margaret wouldn't dare try any spell depicted in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Defence Against the Darkest of Arts.

"If you ask me, he doesn't know a bloody thing about dark arts let alone how to defend from them," Roni deadpanned.

"Ladies," Madam Pince's voice came. "Curfew is in ten minutes. Finish up your studies if you please and meet by the entrance. I'll be escorting all students back to their dormitories." Margaret sighed, closing her book, placing it in her bag.

"Are you worried about the chamber?" Margaret asked in a low voice, trailing behind the other students who were chatting amongst themselves. Roni shrugged.

"I don't even know what to worry about, you know," Roni said practically. "How can I worry about something I don't understand?" For Margaret the unknown of whatever was let loose from the Chamber of Secrets frightened her even more. The unknown threat had the opportunity to be worse than her imagination would ever dream up.

More clues as to what was released from the chamber were revealed in the following weeks. Rumours spread about the school of Harry Potter being the Heir of Slytherin. The joke of a duelling club run by Lockhart himself ended in Harry revealing his affinity for speaking with snakes. The only other parselmouth Margaert knew of was the Dark Lord himself who was, coincidentally a Slytherin.

After the duelling club incident, Potter's guilt became all the clearer when he was found before a petrified Justin Finch-Fletchey and Gryffindor's ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.

Margaret sat on an ugly yellow chaise, staring at the fire crackling in the hearth. Roni sat on the ground, holding her knees to her chest while Cedric and Annie sat on the couch. Anthony joined them, sitting on the ground propping his back against the couch.

"This year is absolute rubbish," Anthony sighed. "Honestly, I can't wait to go home for the holidays. At least at home I don't have to be escorted to the dinner table to eat in fear of being petrified."

"Merlin," Annie mumbled, "I wonder what Justin's family is going through right now. Do you think Dumbledore told them what really happened? They're Muggles, I doubt they'd understand something like petrification."

"I think I saw his parents visit shortly after he was petrified," Cedric said. "Not sure what Dumbledore said to them. I couldn't imagine seeing your son petrified like that."

"You think he can hear, or see?" Roni questioned. "I haven't gone to visit him. I don't know him that well, but some of his friends say they go just to talk to him, you know?"

"Maybe," Anthony said with a shrug. "If it's like the petrificus totalus spell, usually the person can hear and see everything around them."

"But that spell wears off after about ten minutes," Margaret pointed out. "Whatever this is, it's much deeper than that bit of wandwork."

"Do you think it's a magical creature of some sort?" Annie asked. "It would have to be quite good at going about the school unnoticed by the hundreds of students here."

"What could live in a sealed chamber for hundreds of years?" Anthony questioned and Annie shrugged.

"If it's magical, I don't know, maybe it doesn't need food to live," Annie defended her theory.

"Whatever it is, I just hope my parents allow me to return after break," Cedric said. "Letters went out to all parents describing the situation and both my mother and father want me to remain home until it's sorted."

"Yeah, my parents are freaking out a bit too," Anthony said. "My mom keeps writing about how it was never like this when she was a student. In the late 50's that is."

"There was another similar incident with the chamber though," Roni began hesitantly. "In the 40's, rumour is a student died." The group went silent each looking around at each other, the fire casting long shadows across their faces revealing various looks of unease.

"That... can't be true," Annie said hesitantly.

"I overheard Professor McGonagall," Roni admitted abashed by her confession to eavesdropping. "She said that the school should be closed before another death happened. Just like in '42. Apparently, the Ministry is getting involved too."

"You don't think they'll force Hogwarts to close, do you?" Cedric asked and Margaret scrunched her nose in displeasure.

"I wouldn't be surprised. The Ministry meddles in far too many affairs," Margaret commented, noting Mr. Malfoy's increased presence this year. "Hogwarts has been largely independent from the Ministry, they shouldn't have a say."

"Yeah, but still," Anthony said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "If it's out of concern for a vicious monster roaming the halls, killing students, I'd intervene as the Minister before it became front page on the Daily Prophet."

The entrance of the dormitories opened revealing the plump figure of Professor Sprout. She smiled, but Margaret could see she was attempting to mask her fear.

"Anyone who's headed home for the holiday come with me. The carriages are waiting for transportation to Hogsmeade," she informed in a cheery voice to mask the complete exhaustion Margaret assumed she felt.

A feeling of dread washed over her as she settled in a sled lead by a pair of ice horses, shaking their fragile manes while they rushed across the frozen surface of the Black Lake. Margaret decided she would rather face petrification than her parents over the holidays.