Invisible String

Chapter 07

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The leaves began to turn a faint orange, gently falling as temperatures plummeted. Rain cascaded heavily against the windows of the library. My favorite spot was by the window, especially during rainy days. I finished writing the last sentence of my potions essay and meticulously reviewed it. It had to be flawless, perfect. Content with my work, I packed my belongings into my bag, ready to leave the library. With all my homework done, I looked forward to spending some time in the common room, perhaps playing wizarding chess with Draco after dinner. This was my ideal Halloween, excluding any troll attacks. As I stood up, I noticed my sister hurrying towards me. Her hair cascaded down her back in long waves, and instead of her robes, she wore a burgundy turtleneck and a simple black skirt. Being in Gryffindor, she now wore more red than before, which suited her perfectly. "Laurie, I'm sorry to interrupt you," she said, slightly out of breath from running, her gaze drifting to my bag still resting on the chair beside me. Unlike her old and used bag, mine was out of black leather, probably costing more than we ever had. It was hard for me to accept this gift from Draco, but I couldn't be more grateful for this. "You didn't. What's the matter?" I asked, grabbing my bag and walking out of the library with her. "Well... there's a party, and I thought maybe we should go together. Only if you want to," she added, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Since when did Ara go to parties? "Why not? When do we have to be there?" I agreed, mainly for my sister's sake, eager to spend more time with her as schoolwork piled up. "Right now," Ara said, a grin spreading across her face. "Unbelievable," I chuckled, shaking my head as we made our way to the dungeons, the hallway adorned with dark candles. "What kind of party is it?" I asked aloud, noting the mysterious and eerie atmosphere. "A death party?" my sister offered apologetically, though her mischievous smile contradicted her words. "Hopefully not mine," I quipped. Why would Ara attend a death party? "No, not today," Ara reassured me with a mischievous smile. "Sir Nicolas is celebrating being 500 years dead," she declared. "Ahh," I murmured, unsure why he would celebrate such an occasion. We walked through the door, finding the room filled with ghosts. There was this strange sound, like music, filling the air. Charming. Nearly Headless Nick greeted us solemnly. "Thank you for coming, Amantha, and you're Lawrence, I presume?" I nodded in agreement. "It's an honor to be here, Sir." As we strolled through the room, Ara spotted her friends and waved enthusiastically. Ron and Harry seemed already regretful to be there. "Hello, Lawrence. Didn't think you'd come," Hermione greeted me with a smile. She was the only one who treated me the same, even though I'm a Slytherin. "Well, a few minutes ago, I didn't either," I replied with a warm smile, glancing at my sister who was chatting excitedly with Harry and Ron. "Let's check everything out!" Ara declared, taking my hand. It felt odd being the only living person there. Many ghosts danced to the strange music and enjoyed the feast. "Quick, there's Moaning Myrtle, turn around!" Hermione exclaimed with terror in her voice. "What? Who?" I scanned the room, deliberately ignoring Hermione's warning. A loud scream pierced the air. A ghostly girl wearing glasses stared at me, her expression filled with horror. Had I done something wrong? "Youuuu!" she screamed, floating towards me. Helpless, I could only watch as she approached. Then, abruptly, she halted. "Oh. Sorry, thought you were someone else." With a final glance, she turned and drifted away. "That was Moaning Myrtle," Hermione whispered. We all watched as she floated toward the table laden with food. "She haunts the girls' lavatory in the first corridor," Ara added. "Why would someone haunt a bathroom?" Ron voiced the same question I had in my mind. "I don't know," Hermione replied, while Ara simply shrugged. It was indeed a peculiar encounter. "Look! There's food!" Ron pointed excitedly to the table where Myrtle had been just seconds before. The table was draped in black velvet, perfectly matching the party's decor and atmosphere. The boys led the way, with Hermione, Ara, and I trailing behind them. "I think we'll become ghosts too if we eat this," Ara remarked upon seeing the food. Everything was covered in mold or had spoiled. Suddenly, a realization struck me. "Ara," I whispered excitedly. She turned away from the food to face me, her expression curious. "Yeah?" "Sir Nicolas has been dead for 500 years, yet he spent most of his time in the castle," I murmured, stealing a glance at Ara's friends, who thankfully remained oblivious to our conversation. "Yes? Get to the point, Laurie," she replied, crossing her arms, her demeanor either impatient or chilly. "He must have been around during our parents' time. Maybe he knows something about Carina. Especially if it was our mother; she must have been a Gryffindor, and he's the ghost of Gryffindor," I explained. Ara's eyes lit up with excitement. She seized my arm and dragged me toward the ghost in question. "Laurie, you're brilliant!" Her face beamed with a smile. "Sir Nicolas?" Ara addressed him as we approached. He had been conversing with other ghosts but turned to us. "Amantha, what's the matter?" My sister swallowed nervously, attempting to contain her excitement. "Well, we have a question. You see, we're orphans, and the Sorting Hat told us some things about our parents. Our... mother was in Gryffindor, so we thought you might have more information. Plus, there's this name, Carina Black. And, um, my middle name is Carina." Ara's voice trailed off into a whisper at the end. I squeezed her hand, unsure of our next move. "Well, well. Yes, Carina was a Gryffindor indeed, unlike her ancestors. The Blacks were known for their wealth and standing in society, all Slytherins. But Carina, she was such a friendly girl. And her beauty, oh yes, so many boys cried because of her. You quite look like her, except for your eyes," Sir Nicolas reminisced, as if lost in a distant memory. "And what happened to her?" I inquired, still trying to process everything. Perhaps she was our mother; perhaps we still had family out there. "After she left Hogwarts, no one could find her, as if she disappeared. Then her body was found, exactly 11 years ago, the same day the Potters were killed. There were many theories, each more ominous than the last." She was killed. The words echoed in my mind, blurring everything around me and drowning out all other sounds. She was killed. No one could find her. Who was our father then? It must have been during the time she was missing or something. "Laurie! Laurie!" My sister's voice, filled with concern, snapped me back to reality. "It's going to be fine. Maybe she wasn't even our mother. Breathe, Laurie, breathe." Ara placed her hands on my shoulders, guiding me through deep breaths. It was akin to what Mrs. Brown did when Ara panicked from her nightmares. It helped. My breathing slowed, grounding me back to reality. "Better?" Ara asked, to which I simply nodded. Her hand stroked down my arm to mine, offering reassurance. "Let's find the others, then leave." Together, we made our way to her friends, who were still clustered near the table of food. "There you are!" Harry greeted with a smile, though I could tell he was shivering. "We wanted to go now, hopefully there's some food left in the Great Hall," Ron declared, and Ara chuckled softly. We walked out of the room, down the hallway, and into the next corridor. The eerie silence told us the feast was still in full swing. "Tear...kill." Harry, Ara, and I froze in our tracks. It was that voice again. After weeks of silence, it had returned. What was it? Harry approached the wall, pressing his hand against it, listening intently. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione watched us with concern. "What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously, her gaze shifting between my sister, me, and Harry. "The voice..." Ara whispered. Ron furrowed his brow. "I didn't hear anything." Harry motioned for silence, still trying to discern the source. "Hungry...for so long..." There it was again. I saw Harry flinch momentarily, while the others exchanged puzzled glances. "You two don't hear it?" I asked, but they both shook their heads. "Kill... time to kill..." The three of us who heard it exchanged uneasy glances. "Do you think..." Ara trailed off, struggling to find the words. "Do you think it will kill? Here, at Hogwarts?" My heart raced as I scanned the surroundings frantically. There was nothing. "So, let me get this straight. You three hear the same voice, and it wants to kill. But isn't Hogwarts safe?" Ron looked utterly perplexed. "I think it's up there," Harry announced, pointing upward. With that, he strode up the stairs, moving so swiftly we struggled to keep pace. Ara cast wary glances around as we ascended. "Blood... I smell blood..." The words sent a chill down my spine. This wasn't normal. "What is it?" Hermione inquired cautiously. "It wants to kill. More than before," Ara replied tersely, though I could sense her growing anxiety. Would it kill us? Together, we raced up the stairs. My heart pounded faster than ever before. When we finally reached the top, we were all out of breath, but Ara let out a sharp scream. We all spun around to see what had happened. My sister pointed at the wall, where in red paint was scrawled: THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
I inhaled sharply. I didn't know what the Chamber of Secrets was, but it didn't sound like a candy shop. "What's hanging under there?" Ron's voice trembled slightly. I took a hesitant step forward to get a closer look. "It's Mrs. Norris," I replied, terror lacing my voice. Was she dead? Another step forward, then another. "Let's go, it's creepy here," Ron urged, but I remained rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed on the cat. Its lifeless eyes stared into my soul. "Shouldn't we get help?" Harry's voice wavered. Ara was still frozen, her eyes darting between the red paint and the cat. "It's better if no one sees us here," Ron insisted, his discomfort evident. But it was too late. A roar, like distant thunder, signaled the end of the feast. The sound of hundreds of feet climbing stairs and the cheerful hum of well-fed students filled the corridor. And now they were approaching from both ends. The atmosphere grew tense, and some students gasped in fear. This was definitely not my idea of a calm day. "Enemies of the heir, beware. You're next, mudbloods," Draco's voice cut through the silence as he smirked at the cat. Why was he doing this? His gaze shifted around the corridor, stopping at me, then at the paint. He wasn't dumb; he was making connections. "What's happening here?" Filch's ugly voice echoed through the walls. He scrutinized the students, then us, and finally, the cat. "What happened to Mrs. Norris? What did you do, Potter?" If glances could kill, Harry would have dropped dead on the spot. My sister grabbed my arm, seeking comfort, and I instinctively drew closer to protect her. "I'm scared, Laurie," she whispered, looking up at me. I offered her a nervous smile. I didn't know what to do either. Filch continued to lay blame on Potter for whatever had happened to his cat. I had never seen him so furious, and the others seemed equally shocked. "Argus." A deep, authoritative voice called his name. Everyone, including us, turned to see the headmaster. Behind him stood several teachers, with McGonagall looking unnaturally pale and shocked. The crowd parted to make way for them. Dumbledore approached the hanging cat. "Come with me, Argus. And you five as well," he said, his gaze serious. I felt like his eyes lingered on me longer than the others'. Were we going to be expelled? So early in the school year? But we hadn't done anything wrong, had we? I swallowed nervously. It's going to be fine, I tried to convince myself. Silently, we walked together through the corridor to an office. It was dimly lit, with only a few candles casting flickering light. Dumbledore placed the cat on the table and examined it thoroughly. I watched him intently, questions swirling in my mind. What was it like to be as smart and powerful as him? Was the cat alive, or could it be saved? Finally, Dumbledore straightened up and declared, "She's not dead, Argus." I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. Not dead. Beside me, Ara made a sound of relief. "She was petrified. But I can't tell how," Dumbledore mused, lost in thought. "Ask him!" He pointed at Harry, who still looked shocked. "Or the Slytherin boy! They're always up to no good!" Now it was my turn to look shocked. I glanced at Filch, then Snape, and finally back at the headmaster. Please, I hadn't done anything wrong. Dumbledore studied me, perhaps remembering the incident in the hospital wing. I mentally berated myself for my foolishness. "I doubt that. No one at their age would be able to do that. It's more advanced dark magic," Dumbledore stated firmly, maintaining his gaze. Filch began to speak again, focusing on Harry's involvement, but I couldn't concentrate, my attention fixed on Dumbledore. "May I say something, Headmaster?" Snape's inscrutable mask remained unchanged, but his gaze lingered on me and Ara as if he saw something within us. "Potter and his... companions might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time." Since when did Snape protect him? Snape hates them. "But I didn't see them at the feast..."He added. I began, intending to explain where we had been, but Hermione, Harry, and Ron beat me to it. They recounted our whereabouts, sparing us from any punishment. "You can go now," Dumbledore stated, and I eagerly moved toward the door, wanting to leave as quickly as possible. "Except you, Mr. Williams and Miss Williams." I froze. Did he know something? Something about the voice. We turned around and waited until Ara's friends and the teachers had left the room, leaving only the three of us. "I noticed that you two were pretty quiet. Do you want to tell me something? Something that is bothering you?" Dumbledore peered at us over his glasses. I glanced at Ara, silently seeking her opinion on whether we should confide in him. She gave a slight shake of her head. Right, it was probably better not to tell him. "No, there's nothing, Sir," Ara replied, though her voice quivered slightly. The headmaster didn't appear convinced. "Well then, goodnight," Dumbledore said, his gaze lingering on us. We nodded in response "Goodnight, Sir," we echoed, and with that, we turned to leave the office, relieved to be out of the intense scrutiny.