"Lily Potter."
The voice behind me distracted me from the fact that I was standing over my own body. I turned to find John Doe standing behind me. He smiled genuinely, and had the situation not been as it was, I'm sure I would have smiled back.
"Sorry to see your situation," he said, nodding to my body.
"I'm not dead, am I?" I asked, terrified of the answer.
John actually laughed. "Of course not. You're petrified. Just as I have been."
The two of us glanced down at my body. My long black hair was sprawled out across the floor, my eyebrows still furrowed in the millisecond of confusion I'd managed at the bright golden eyes, one hand out defensively, the other still around my wand.
"We can stick around until your body is discovered, if you'd like," John offered.
I nodded thankfully, and we took a seat, leaning against a wall. This out of body experience was different than I thought it must be like. I didn't float, and couldn't go through walls. It was basically the same as usual.
I'd had no idea John was petrified. When I'd seen him around, he'd looked just like any other student. I wouldn't in my wildest dreams have realized just what had happened to John. I was surprised that word of his petrification hadn't gotten around the castle quicker.
"So, John," I said carefully. "Now that we're in the same boat, do you want to let me know what you're all about? You say you're petrified, and yet as far as I knew, only Colin, Justin, Nick, and that blasted cat have been."
John grinned. "For starters my name isn't John."
"Yes, I know."
"As you know, The Chamber of Secrets has been opened once before, 50 years ago. That's when I was petrified. The guy who did it didn't say a lot. He told me he'd wiped my memory, so I don't even remember my own name. I assume I'm a Ravenclaw judging by the robes I'm wearing. They boy, who told me only that his name was Tom, had wiped my memory because I'd discovered the chamber. He didn't kill me because it was too early, and he'd have no time to wipe the school of the mudblood filth," John paused, thinking hard. "He mentioned that it was a shame that such a pure blood like me had followed him, and I was too smart for my own good. He mentioned at some point that we were in the same year. I have this all written down, if you'd like to read."
I nodded. John handed me a piece of parchment from his robes pocket. With one more nod of permission from him, I began to read the diary like entry.
23/04/62
He must have petrified me before he wiped my memory, because I don't know how he did it. I'm not in my body, I 'm standing over it in shock. It's terrifying not to have any memories.
"I've wiped your memories," a Slytherin boy is beside me, but he looks not at me when he speaks. "I don't know where you are, but if petrification works the way my research says it does, you're still in this room."
He is indeed right.
"Why did you wipe my memories?"
The Slytherin doesn't seem to be able to hear me. I only am able to hear him.
"Don't try and speak to me, as you cannot. Nor can you speak with anyone else. You don't exist. Neither does this chamber, or its beast. I do, though. I'm Tom, that's all you need to know. I'm sorry you followed me down here. I didn't want to cause harm to the pure bloods, only rid this castle of its mudblood filth. You were too smart for your own good, and you followed me after our Potions class together. You discovered my chamber, and I couldn't let that get out. It's too early though, to let a student die; especially let the pure blood spill."
I'm too shocked to speak, even though I know he wouldn't be able to hear me anyway.
"You've been erased. Not only have I erased everything and everyone from your mind, but I've erased you from the minds of the world."
The Slytherin is moving away from me, but I don't leave my body behind. He's gone now, and I'm alone.
"You didn't tell me your name because you don't even know it," I said, understanding now.
"Yes. I've been trapped here for 50 years now. No one was able to see me, hear me, or feel my presence. Not until you came along," John took the parchment back from my hand.
"Why was I able to see you? The others who have been petrified, can you see them?" I had a million questions swirling around in my head.
John shook his head. "I don't know why you could see me, and still can. I'm unable to see the others. I have seen their bodies though. The young boy, I believe his name is Colin, and your brother's friend Justin."
I nodded to confirm, but neither of us spoke again. The silence hanging in the air was only broken when the echo of footsteps made their way up the staircase I had been headed toward. The potions master didn't recognize what he was seeing instantly, but when he had, he rushed forward.
"Professor," I muttered, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to hear me.
Snape looked unsure of what to do. He would glance toward McGonagall's quarters as if meaning to head in that direction, but then back down to the body at his feet. He was muttering something quietly under his breath, and without fear of being noticed, I moved forward.
"I'm sorry, Lily. I'm so sorry."
My eyebrows furrowed. Devastation was clear on Snape's face. He kept apologizing, even having done nothing wrong. I was the one who shouldn't have been wandering the corridors at night. Not listening to what I was told had finally gotten me into trouble.
Snape levitated my body off the ground, and began to walk. John and I followed close behind him. He retraced the steps I had taken only an hour ago back to the hospital wing. My body was laid down gently on the same cot as it always was, and Snape raced into the back to retrieve Madame Pomfrey. John stayed behind, but I followed.
I had never been in Madame Pomfrey's room, and even though I all but existed, I felt like I was intruding. I glanced around quickly as Snape struck his knuckles hard against the door. A beige couch was in front of a crackling fire, a book lying open on the table. There was a small kitchen in the corner beside the door we'd come through. Pomfrey threw the door open quick.
"Another?" She asked as if expecting it.
Snape nodded. "Potter."
Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened, and her and they dashed out. I slipped through the door behind them before they slammed it closed. I returned to John's side just as McGonagall and Dumbledore rushed in. Their faces dropped at the sight, and everyone whispered quietly as to not wake Hermione.
"But Potter... she isn't a muggleborn," McGonagall whispered.
"The wrong place at the wrong time?" Madame Pomfrey offered.
"No, there was no mistake here. Miss Potter was targeted directly, and I fear we know the answer as to why," Dumbledore said. I was disappointed when they did not elaborate.
I listened as they discussed the draught that Professor Sprout was creating to revive the petrified victims, and how it wouldn't be ready until June. I shifted in place, uncomfortable thinking about how Harry would react to the news. John seemed to take notice of this.
"I know you've never had a fondness for the hospital wing. Your body is safe here, if you're ready to take leave," John said carefully.
I nodded, and we made our way out the already ajar door of the hospital wing. We walked straight to the Great Hall, were John took a seat at the Ravenclaw table. I did the same. I decided which question to ask first.
"So, how do you... interact with objects?" I asked. I had seen John on a broom before, but since I had been petrified, he hadn't touched anything.
John seemed to be deep in thought. "That's difficult. I suppose it's like this. If I open a door, I see it open, and I can go through it, but for any other person, the door stays closed. If I pick up a book, I have it in my hand, and yet for them it remains on the table. It's as if there's two versions of everything, one in our plane, and one in the other."
"Plane?"
"It's simply what I've come to call it."
I nodded once again, simply accepting his words before asking my next question. "What about magic? Can you still do magic?"
John shook his head. "I've got a wand of no use. I doubt even your metamorphmagus or animagus powers work on this plane," upon his mention of this, I quirked an eyebrow. "I notice things that others don't, because they don't notice me."
I tried and found he was right. No magic at all worked on this 'plane'.
"What can you tell me about The Chamber of Secrets?" I asked tentatively.
"Not much more than Binns did. I attended that class after having followed the young Muggleborn Emily there. I was afraid for her. As a muggleborn, she shouldn't be wandering the halls alone like she was. You're friends, with her, no?" John asked. I nodded. "Binns summed it up quite well, all I can tell you is the location of the chamber, and its beast."
Instead of asking where it was, I muttered, "show me."
So John and I were off through the still dark corridors. Silence fell between us, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I was suddenly shocked by the familiarity of the hallway we were in, having visited it on multiple occasions in the past few weeks. To my surprise, John entered that exact room.
"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," I muttered to myself, entering the all too familiar setting.
The wall between the final two stalls was still down, as I could see from the open door. That and the goblet Ron had left on the floor were the only reminder we had done anything in here. Myrtle sat on the sink silently, obviously unable to see or hear us. To the world, John and I didn't exist.
John marched to a particular sink. I recognized it as the one that never seemed to work. I cocked an eyebrow curiously when he brought me to it. He knelt on the floor and pointed to a small engraving of a snake on the side of the tap.
"You're a parseltongue, correct? Only you can open it. I haven't been down there in 50 years."
I spoke, or rather hissed, carefully. "Open."
The sink descended into the floor, leaving a large opening to slide down. I wasn't hesitant due to danger, but rather, I wasn't too fond of getting stuck down there. I turned to John curiously, two questions in mind to ask.
"How do we get out?"
"The same way the monster does. The pipes."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
John paused then. "If you and your brother plan on killing this thing. I do."
I wasn't sure how I was supposed to kill the monster from my current state, but I didn't argue. I jumped into the hole in the floor, sliding down to a large room under the castle. The floor was scattered with bones of small rodents and the like. John was behind me seconds later, and we set off through the chamber.
We passed through room after room, all of which branched off in multiple directions. I stuck to the main path as John instructed, and within ten minutes, we were in the main part of the chamber. A giant statue of Salazar Slytherin immediately captured my attention. I noticed, as I looked at it, that the chamber held the same comforting coolness and glow as the common room did. The feeling of comfort I felt was anything but comfortable.
John beckoned for me to follow him. I did so, and noticed something at the feet of Salazar Slytherin. John was walking towards it with hesitant steps. I took a place beside him in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, and he smiled gratefully. We approached what I then realized was the body of John, face contorted into a look of confusion after having had his memory wiped.
I sighed. John reached down and touched the Ravenclaw insignia that matched the one one the robes he wore. I found that I could interact with him to his own notice, and so I lay a hand on his arm. He turned to me and smiled.
"The Chamber is bigger than I remembered it to be," he mused, turning away from his body.
A noise behind me grabbed my immediate attention. Obviously returning from the journey in which it had petrified me, a giant snake slid into the chamber, settling in the middle of the floor. Having gained an infatuation with magical beasts directly following the discovery that I was a witch, the great creature before me gave me no fear or anger, but amazement. I immediately recognized it as a basilisk, and I let my feet carry myself toward it. I ran a hand over the scales, taking it all in.
The basilisk couldn't feel my fingertips brush against it, but I could feel the magnificent beast's smooth scales beneath my hand. It's eyes were open, but not actually being there let me look into the reflective golden surface. John wordlessly watched as I continued to marvel over the basilisk.
"I can't believe there's a real basilisk," I muttered.
"That basilisk has petrified at least 5 people including you and I," John said in bewilderment over my fondness for the great snake.
"Yes, under the heir's order," I argued, ignoring how much I sounded like Hagrid.
I went back to examining the basilisk, even climbing onto its back at one point. John didn't argue again, but seemed to be amused by my passion for such dangerous things. I slid down off the end of its nose, and with great difficulty lifted its mouth open to examine its fangs.
"The venom of a basilisk is nearly as deadly as the gaze," I said, knowing the full potential of the sleeping beast. "She's magnificent."
"She?"
"Well, yes. Follow me," I led John up on top of the basilisk, who couldn't feel our presence, that in all technicality wasn't present. "See there, on top of the head?"
"No. There's nothing there."
"Exactly. If this were a male, there would be a sort of plume there on the head- a scarlet one."
"You seem to know a lot about her," John said, accepting my calling of the basilisk by her gender, making her seem to be more than just a monster.
"I've got a real fascination with beasts and beings," I explained to him. "I've done a lot of research on a lot of them."
"Tell me more about her then. Let's see if I can see past the monster."
I grinned. "Her scales here, they're similar to a dragon's. They deflect all spells. She's rather small for a basilisk, and judging by the exposed scales of her underbelly there, she's much too young to have been living down here since the creation of this chamber. Slytherin must have had her in a deep sleep; it would have prevented her ageing."
"Well if spells can't kill a basilisk, what can?"
"The crow of a rooster, for one," I said, in my head making the connection between Hagrid's dead roosters and the basilisk.
John just hummed. After a few more moments in awe, John and I decided to head out of the great Chamber of Secrets. We managed out of a few pipes that lead back into the school. I grunted as we made the final climb out.
Daylight had just begun to strike the school, illuminating the corridors in a bright red glow. I glanced around, having never been up this early. John chuckled, obviously noticing what I was doing.
"Pretty cool, huh?" He grinned, motioning around him. "I've seen this nearly every night for 50 years. On this plane you don't need to eat, drink, or sleep, though it is possible. However, it is fruitless. The food and drink are tasteless, and the sleep not restful."
We headed out the front doors, my watch indicating it was 5 in the morning at most. Glad that on this plane I was unaffected by the cold, I stepped into the snow. The footprints I was leaving I was sure didn't exist on the mortal plane.
"How do you think Harry will react?" I asked John, who had followed me into the snow.
John was careful with his words. "He'll be trying harder than ever to find the chamber. It just got personal for him."
"Do you think he'll be angry with me?"
"Honestly?" He asked, to which I gave a nod. "I would be. Sure, I'd be worried, and devastated, but I'd be angry that you decided to go roaming around at night during times like this."
I had to agree. Harry had told me not to go wandering at night, and so had Professor Snape. I looked away from John. I heard him sigh, and sit down in the snow that should have been cold. I sat as well.
"You must have been lonely," I said, meeting his blue eyes.
John shuddered. "You have no idea. People walk by you day after day, and yet you still have to live without any human contact. I'm not sure how I didn't go mad."
I didn't respond. The silence that had fallen between us wasn't awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. It was simply a fear filled, but curious silence.
"Would you like to know more?" John asked suddenly. "About what's going on?"
"Can you tell me more?"
"Follow me."
Then we were back into the castle. The first few students, mostly early bird Ravenclaws, were headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I'd been awake this early only on many occasions. Most of these were to meet Oliver Wood out on the Quidditch Pitch in the crisp morning air, so early that no other student wanted anything to do with a broom.
John led me to the library, and into the restricted section, a place that I had visited times before, often to snatch books for nighttime reading. The restricted section was eerie. It had fewer windows than the rest of the library did, giving it a shadowy appearance. Even though I knew no one could hear me, the back of my mind was nagging me to be careful not to knock the books off the shelves; some of them weren't quiet about that. My mind wandered to the more dangerous books. Now that I was petrified and out of danger, I had an itch to read the more dangerous ones, such as the one that gave you boils upon opening it.
John knew exactly where he was going. He led me through shelves of books with his head held high. He must have visited here many times before. I had a feeling that with 50 years on this plane, reading wouldn't be an uncommon pass time.
"Here," John stopped, and climbed a shelf to reach the very top. He pulled down a large black book.
I took it from his hands to allow him to climb down. The title was scrawled on the cover in silver letters: States of Being: More than Alive or Dead.
"Why's this restricted?" I asked, as I read the table of contents, which ranged from asleep to in limbo.
"Some of these states are dark, and it teaches how to put people in them. There's a lot of really dark magic."
I nodded in reply. There was a chapter dedicated to Petrified, which I assumed is why John had handed me this particular book. I flipped open to the page indicated.
Petrification
Petrifaction is one of the states of being in which the person remains alive. There are very few known cases of this state, as there is only one extremely rare known force that can petrify a being. In the state of petrification, a person is frozen in the position they were when they became petrified. The body of the victim becomes unable to move from its position. If an outside force attempts to change the position of the victim, is is highly likely that the bones of the victim will be broken.
There is only one known cause that is able to put a being into this state. The only known cause of petrification is the indirect sight of a beings eyes into the eyes of a basilisk. A basilisk, which is also known as "The King of Serpents", is a giant serpent first discovered by Herpo the foul. If any being looks into the eyes of the basilisk, they will be killed instantly. If, however, the connection between the eyes of the beast (classified XXXXX) is indirect, the victim will only become petrified.
An example of this indirect sight can be seen in the first known documentation of petrification. The original account is provided here by Sir Isaac Humphrey's descendant, Rehnall Kane.
"Subject: Sir Giles Isaac Humphrey
Status: Unknown
Description: Subject is in rigor, and is unable to be moved. It is believed that the subject is in fact still alive. Subject cannot be awoken by any known method.
Notes: It is believed that the cause of this state is the indirect meeting of the eyes of the subject, and the newly hatched basilisk found on the other side of the glass window. The basilisk, when found, was dead. The subject will be moved to hospital for further testing."
The basilisk found in Sir Humphrey's barn was the result of Sir Humphrey's son having let his toad into the barn. The toad took rest on a chicken's egg, thus creating the condition to hatch a basilisk. The basilisk was killed not long afterward, by the crow of a rooster. It's death directly correlates to the discovery of the basilisk's weakness. Two weeks later, Sir Giles Isaac Humphrey was still left in the state of petrification, not cure having been discovered. It was requested by his family that he was put to death. Sir Humphrey's petrification led to the discovery and study of the condition, and the discovery of the weakness of a basilisk: the roosters crow.
Due to the rarity of petrification, no cure has been discovered. In most cases of petrification, the victim is put to death out of sympathy. Some, however, remain in their state for hundreds of years. A notable case of this is Esther Phyllis, who was petrified in 1523 and remains so to this day. This is the longest known case of a petrification.
The spirit of a victim of petrification will linger as long as the subject is petrified. This was only myth up until 1872, after the petrification of Cuthbert Allen. Allen was petrified after meeting the eyes of a basilisk in the reflection of a mirror. He was put to death two months later, at the request of his mother. Allen returned to his home as a ghost, and confirm that his spirit did indeed linger. He described his out of body experience as if he were still in the living world, but without any contact with it at all. Allen refused to comment on this further, and therefore no more is known about where the spirit of the victim remains.
The study of petrification is not yet finished. The magical community around the world still work to discover more about the out of body experience a petrified victim has. Harder still, they work to discover a cure for this terrible condition.
On the only two pages dedicated to petrification, the words were written alongside pictures of all sorts. Artwork depicting Sir Humphrey and the basilisk that killed him. Sir Humphrey lay on the ground beside the faded red barn, face contorted into a look of shock, his dark eyes open wide at the sight of the basilisk visible through the dirty barn window. The basilisk was resting still in it's broken eggshell. The upper part of it's body was raised, green scales shining, golden eyes sparkling and crimson tuft bristling in the wind through the boards in the barn walls. I was amazed at the artist who was able to capture this in still, this painting coming before the times of moving artwork.
Another painting, created by a famous wizarding artist, depicted what he believed the out of body experience may be like. A young man was floating a few feet in the air over his own stony body, the world around him painted in only dull colours. Many people stood around the man's body, clearly unable to detect the man's spirit. One woman had in fact put her elbow into the spirits knee. The spirit of the man had an emptiness in his hallow eyes, and there was a defeated look on his face. The way the artist had managed to capture this was unnervingly accurate, minus the floating part.
Accompanying these brilliant pieces of artwork were pictures, some still, some moving. A petrified man stared out of the pages with frozen grey eyes, while the ghost of Cuthbert Allen floated in the portrait beside it, hands folded neatly behind his back. Esther Phyllis was shown petrified in her home. On the left page a basilisk stood tall, eyes focused directly on the camera, which had, unlike Colin's, remained safe until it was discovered three days later. It had been discovered with the deceased body of the photographer, who had seen the eyes of the basilisk not through his camera, but directly. I knew that photo, and had a strong respect for it.
"The book is outdated," John said, flipping to the very first page, which was dated 1936. "They found a cure for petrification. There's a journal here by the same fellow."
John handed me a new book. It was by the same person, but was much thinner than the first. This one was dated 1986, fifty years later than the first. States of Being: Answers and New Discoveries was the title. The first page noted that this work would not be adding any new states of being, but rather would be building on things that hadn't been discovered back in 1936. As I had last time, I immediately found the chapter for petrification.
Summary of petrification:
Petrification is the state of being caused by the indirect line of sight into the eyes of a basilisk. When petrified, the body of the victim becomes rigid, frozen, and unable to move. The spirit of the victim of petrification will remain on another plane where no other exists, until they are either revived, or killed.
To this day, not much is known of the plane on which the spirits of petrification victims remain. The few that have lived to tell the tale described it as a lonely place, not unlike limbo. Although they are able to see others, and interact with the world around them, they are not able to interact with the living world. Additionally, if two beings are petrified, they are trapped on different planes, and unable to interact with each other. This was discovered in the case of Haelyn Tristell and Tal Nebbit in 1953. Together they had encountered a basilisk, and had been rendered petrified after seeing its eyes in the reflection of a pool of water. Although Nebbit was put to death at the request of his mother three years following, Haelyn Tristell lived to the discovery of a cure. She confirmed that during her nearly five years of petrification, she was unable to interact with Nebbit.
The cure for petrification was discovered in 1958 by healer Fridmund J. LaHart, and potion master Hershel Henderin. Together, the two created the 'Draught of Mandrake'. Created with the root of a fully mature mandrake, once administered to a victim of petrification, the draught is able to revive the subject to full health.
The draught was, four months after its discovery, administered to Esther Phyllis, who had been petrified for over 430 years. Esther Phyllis was revived to full physical health. Tragically, however, Phyllis had been driven mad after 435 years alone on the plane of a petrified victim. Her mental state mingled with the changes in the world, drove Phyllis to suicide in 1959.
I needed not read any further. I shut the book and handed it to John, who replaced both books back on the shelf where they belonged. Neither of us said a word. I was busy soaking in the information I'd read, and it seemed John respected that. I thought of the plane that had been dicovered by Cuthbert Allen- the same one I was trapped in now. It didn't explain how I could see and interact with John, and it only added to the whirlwind of emotions I'd been experiencing since I'd gotten petrified.
"Draught of Mandrake," I said carefully. "Is that how they were able to revive the students 50 years ago?"
John nodded in response. "But Tom erased me from the face of this earth. He wiped my entire memory, while wiping me from the memories of everyone else. Even if I had been found, no one would ever know who I was."
"I'm going to get the both of us out of here, John, I swear it."
"But..." He was wringing his hands and refusing to meet my eyes.I'd never seen John like this before. John was confident, cocky even. He'd annoyed me senseless when he'd discovered I could see him, just for the hell of it. "What if I become like Esther Phyllis?"
I actually laughed aloud. John looked taken aback, obviously not expecting that as my response. I hit him gently on the shoulder as a sign of affection. He seemed to accept it, and smiled.
"John, you're not going to become like Esther Phyllis. She was mad. You haven't gone mad. You've been here alone for fifty years alone and managed to stay sane. I don't know how you did it, but you did. We're going to get the hell out of this plane, and you're going to finish Hogwarts. Got it?"
John nodded and smiled. Together we headed out of the library. We entered the corridors, now bustling with students. Even though we knew they wouldn't feel it, we avoided the students and professors as we walked unseen among them.
"Do you think we can get ourselves out of this plane?" I asked John. "Rather than waiting for them to get me out, and I in turn to you?"
John shrugged. "I've tried everything I could think of, which, mind you, wasn't much. I'm still here."
I nodded, and shoved my hands in my pockets. Of course he'd tried everything, he'd been stuck here for fifty years! I opened my mouth to ask John yet another question, when I felt the impact of walking into a certain raven haired, green eyed, boy.