Just as Amisty had opened her mouth to retaliate when Filch stormed down the hallway.
Draco stepped back, disappearing within the knot of students.
"What's going on here? What's going on?" He bellowed, shoving his way rather harshly through the crowd. Though, his anger soon morphed into despair as he caught sight of his beloved cat. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?"
Amisty bit her lip.
She had never particularly liked Filch, but he clearly cared very deeply about his cat and his reaction just ground the point home.
He whirled around, eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and his furious gaze fell on Harry.
"You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll--" He raged, starting toward Harry with a raised fist.
Amisty leaped in front of him, bracing herself for the blow.
"Argus!" A calm but commanding voice sounded from across the hallway.
It was Professor Dumbledore, a few more teachers behind him. The Headmaster walked past the quartet, his robes billowing at the speed of his movements, and took Mrs. Norris down from where she was hanging.
"Come with me, Argus," His voice didn't even raise in volume as he spoke, authority simply leaked from his words. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss River."
"My office is nearest, Headmaster--just upstairs--please feel free--" Professor Lockhart piped up, smiling as always.
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Professor Dumbledore replied, nodding his thanks as he carried Mrs. Norris down the hall.
Immediately, the crowd split in two, letting the small group pass through.
Amisty scanned the people, looking for Draco. She caught sight of his platinum blonde hair and then his eyes.
Once again, silver eyes met green. A smirk formed on his face and he crossed his arms.
Amisty nearly lost it right then and there, but Hermione had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to the group.
Professor Lockhart followed with an air of importance, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape as well.
The blonde teacher's office was dark, the candles yet to be lit. Amisty jumped as the Lockhart's in the pictures on the walls rushed hurriedly out of sight.
The four took a seat in the plush chairs, keeping out of the small ring of light the candles left. Professor Dumbledore was leaning over Mrs. Norris, his eyes focused as he poked the cat gently, and both Professor McGonagall and Snape were just as close, though they didn't touch her.
"It was a definitely a curse that killed her -- probably the Transmogrifian Torture -- I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her..." Professor Lockhart threw around his callous comments around haphazardly, fluttering around the other's like an overexcited bird.
Amisty winced as Flich sobbed, right on time with Lockhart's comments. He was sitting by the desk, head in his hands to muffle his heart wrenching cries.
Her attention was taken off that, however, when she heard the soft mumbling of spells. Professor Dumbledore had pulled out his wand, tapping Mrs. Norris tenderly. It didn't do anything.
" ... I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou, a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once..." Professor Lockhart, completely blind to the weeping caretaker.
No one paid him any heed, and silence soon fell over the room yet again.
Finally, Professor Dumbledore pulled away.
"She's not dead, Argus," His voice was once again calm, but this time there was a hint of happiness.
"Not dead? But why's she all -- all stiff and frozen?" Filch croaked, his voice still raspy with tears as he looked up hesitantly.
"She has been Petrified. But how, I cannot say..." Professor Dumbledore replied, tapping his chin.
"Ask him!" Filch screeched, whirling around to face the sitting group.
Harry sat up suddenly, his eyes wide.
"No second year could have done this. It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced--" Dumbledore shook his head, his glasses slipping slightly.
"He did it, he did it! You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found -- in my office -- he knows I'm a -- I'm a -- He knows I'm a Squib!" Filch stumbled over his words, his face turning an unattractive shade of purple.
"I never touched Mrs. Norris! And I don't even know what a Squib is," Harry defended quickly, shifting underneath everyone's gazes.
"Rubbish! He saw my Kwikspell letter!" Filch snarled, his beady eyes narrowing to the point of which Amisty couldn't see them.
"If I might speak, Headmaster," Professor Snape spoke up from the corner of the room, coming into the candlelight. Amisty stiffened, no one hated Harry more than him. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
"We were at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party!" Amisty protested, relieved to know that this wasn't a lie.
"There were hundred of ghosts..." Hermione added the second Amisty had finished her sentence.
"They'll tell you we were there!" Ron butted in, and they all interrupted themselves as the raced to explain.
"But why not join the feast afterward? Why go up to that corridor?" The Professor asked silkily.
Amisty, Hermione, and Ron all looked at Harry expectantly.
He was, after all, the one who ran up there in the first place.
"Because -- because -- because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," He lied, struggling to find the proper words.
"Without any supper? I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties," His inky black eyes glinted.
"We weren't hungry," Ron replied, his words useless as his stomach rumbled loudly.
They hadn't gotten any food that night.
"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest," Professor Snape suggested.
Amisty nearly shot out of her chair, outraged, but Professor McGonagall beat her to it.
"Really, Severus. I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong," She argued, her voice smothered with finality.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," Dumbledore replied, his blue gaze scanning the four of them.
The reaction of Professor Snape was far from pleasant, as was Filch's. They both looked livid.
"My cat has been Petrified. I want to see some punishment!" Filch slammed his hands down on the desk.
"We will be able to cure her, Argus. Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris," Professor Dumbledore replied, calm as ever.
"I'll make it. I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep--" Professor Lockhart started.
"Excuse me. But I believe I am the Potions master at this school," Professor Snape interrupted coldly.
Amisty couldn't help but smile slightly, as Lockhart's mouth had snapped shut, his cheeks pink.
"You may go," Dumbledore turned to the four, nodding.
They immediately got to their feet, rushing out of the room as quickly as possible. Once they reached the floor above Lockhart's office, Harry opened up an empty classroom and slipped inside, his friends following.
"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?" He asked urgently, thinking back to his half-formed lie.
"No. Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world," Ron replied, not even pausing to think of his answer.
"You do believe me, don't you?" Harry's eyes reflected the doubt he was feeling.
Amisty thought back to the noise she had heard. It wasn't a voice, but it definitely was something, and Harry wouldn't lie.
"'Course I do. But -- you must admit it's weird..." Ron's voice trailed off, he was thinking hard.
"I know it's weird. The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened... What's that supposed to mean?" Harry changed the subject.
"You know, it rings a sort of bell. I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might've been Bill..." Ron replied, his eyes unfocusing as he thought back.
"And what on earth's a Squid?" Harry added.
Ron covered his mouth with his hand, doing a crummy job at hiding his laughter, but he sobered up quickly.
"Well -- it's not funny really -- but as it's Filch. A Squib is someone who was born into a Wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. He's bitter," Ron's mouth quirked up in a smile.
The quiet of the empty hallways was soon disrupted by twelve rings of a clock.
"Midnight. We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else," Harry headed toward the door, opening it a crack and peering through, then letting them pass in front of him.
Amisty kept her ears pricked, listening for the tell tale sound of footsteps of an approaching teacher. They raced up to the Gryffindor common room, keeping their footfalls light as they snuck in.
"Good night," Amisty whispered, walking up the stairs to the girls dormitory after Hermione, who had ran up the second they entered.
"'Night," Harry and Ron whispered back in unison, setting off toward their own dormitories. Amisty slipped into her pajamas quickly, creeping into her bed with a yawn.
Hermione was reading through her textbooks, the pages rustling softly as she flipped past them.
"What're you looking for?" She asked, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and taking a seat beside Hermione.
"The Chamber of Secrets, it has to be here somewhere..." Hermione replied, turning to another book and going through the same process over again.
She was blinking over and over, fighting back sleep.
"You're not going to find anything tonight. Do it tomorrow when you're properly awake," Amisty urged, closing the book she had abandoned and tucking it in the open trunk at the foot of the bed.
"Then come with me to the library. I know I've heard of it," She replied, putting the rest of her books away dejectedly.
Amisty nodded, jumping back onto her own bed and curling up beneath the blankets. Hermione followed her actions, soon drifting off to sleep as well.
Now everyone in the second-year girls dormitory was sound asleep. Once again, just as it has the previous year, a small wolf appeared on the window sill, though this time it looked as if it had grown slightly. It's misty fur had gotten thicker, paws wider, muzzle longer.
Amisty's eyes fluttered open and she caught sight of the starry wolf. She didn't speak, instead reaching out toward it.
The wolf gazed up at her, nuzzling her outstretched palm and then padding back to the window. The moonlight shined through its pelt, but she knew it wasn't a ghost.
Amisty blinked, and it was gone.
-+=+-
The next morning Amisty was eating her breakfast hungrily, still drowsy from the previous night.
Her chin was leaning against her hand as she frantically grasped at the straws of consciousness. When Echo landed in front of her, she jumped, falling out of her chair.
"You are the clumsiest person I've ever met," Harry laughed, holding out his hand for her.
"Don't start," She replied, blushing furiously as she accepted his help.
He tugged her to her feet and she retook her seat.
"You've got a letter," Hermione smiled, fighting down her laughter as she handed her a yellowed envelope.
Amisty flipped it over, the familiar green ink winking up at her.
"It's from her secret pen-pal," Harry teased, nudging her with his elbow.
She blushed again, whacking his arm.
"I just replied to a letter addressed to me, nothing wrong with that!" She defended, slipping the letter into her robes.
"There is when you have no clue who you're writing to," Harry shot back, crossing his arms. Amisty couldn't think of a reply.
"You're what?" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers as she stared at her.
"She is," Harry grinned, poking her with a grin as bright as the sun overhead
"Does that mean Harry's got some competition?" Ron piped up, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter.
Now Harry was silent, but both of them had gone scarlet.
Hermione, if she was amused she didn't show it, was still staring at Amisty in shock.
"You can't be writing to someone you don't know! Do you know how dangerous that is?" She scolded.
Amisty shifted in her seat, uncomfortable.
"Could we change the subject?" She asked, voice squeaking up at the end.
Her face was burning.
"Yeah, that would be great," Harry nodded quickly, scratching the back of his neck.
Ron lost it.
He burst out in laughter and Amisty sank lower into her seat.
Harry reached out to comfort her, only to see Ron giving him a knowing look, and retracted his hand.
Wasn't this a great start to do the day?