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Harry Potter
I WOKE UP THE next morning to find the hospital wing blazing with winter sunlight. My arm was reboned but felt very stiff.
There was a warm weight pressing into my left side, and when I looked over, I saw that it was a peaceful looking Rory still asleep with her head on my shoulder. I felt my face grow hot and a funny feeling erupted in my stomach.
Should I wake her? Should I move? I definitely didn't want to, but I wasn't sure how she would feel about sleeping so close together.
Luckily, I didn't have to think too long, because a second later, Rory woke up on her own.
"Oh, um, sorry, I guess I fell asleep," she said, sitting up and smiling sheepishly at me, which made my heart speed up.
"It's okay," I assured her, internally cursing when my voice rose a few octaves.
"How's your arm?" Rory asked.
"It's good, the bone's all grown back now," I said, lifting my stiff arm to wave awkwardly.
She giggled, (and I swore my heart was about to burst out of my chest), but then caught sight of Colin, and immediately frowned and bit her lip.
"I hoped that was just another bad dream," she muttered.
Another?
Before I could ask, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and began bending and stretching my arm and fingers.
"All in order," she said. "When you've finished eating, you may leave."
I nodded as she handed me the tray. It was hard to try and eat with my left hand, and I saw Rory watching with an amused smile on her face.
"Do you want some?" I asked.
"No thanks," she shook her head, glancing towards Colin's bed, which was hidden by curtains. "I don't feel like eating much."
Twenty minutes later, after I had gotten dressed, Rory and I hurried off to Gryffindor Tower to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren't there. We left to go look for them, and I couldn't help but feel slightly hurt that they weren't interested in whether I had my bones back or not.
As we passed the library, we ran into Percy Weasley, who looked considerably happier than last time we met.
"Oh, hello, Harry, Aurora," he said. "Excellent flying yesterday, both of you. Gryffindor have just taken the lead for the House Cup — you earned us seventy points."
"You haven't seen Ron or Hermione, have you?" I asked.
"No, I haven't," Percy said, his smile fading. "I hope Ron's not in another girls' toilet . . ."
I let out a forced laugh, and exchanged looks with Rory. We waited until Percy was out of sight before heading straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"It's us," I said, after hearing voices from a locked cubicle and shutting the door.
There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the cubicle and I saw Hermione's eye peering through the keyhole.
"Harry! Rory!" she said. "You gave us such a fright. Come in — how's your arm, Harry?"
"Fine," I said, as Rory and I squeezed into the cubicle. There was an old cauldron perched on the toilet, a crackling sound from under the rim letting me know they had lit a fire beneath it.
"We'd've come to meet you two, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it."
I started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted. "We already know, we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going —"
"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," Ron snarled. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."
"There's something else," I said, watching Hermione tear bundles of knotgrass and throw them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."
Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed, and looked to Rory for confirmation. She nodded, and I told them everything Dobby had told us — or hadn't.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said.
"This settles it," Ron said triumphantly. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking round the school."
"Maybe it can make itself invisible," Hermione suggested, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself — pretend to be a suit of armour or something. I've read about Chameleon Ghouls . . ."
"You read too much, Hermione," Ron said, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches.
"So Dobby stopped us getting on the train and broke your arm . . ." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."
. . . . .
Aurora Areli
By Monday morning, the news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school. The air was thick with rumour and suspicion, and the first-years had taken to travelling in packs, as though scared they would be attacked if they went anywhere alone.
Ginny had sat next to Colin in Charms, and was especially distraught. I tried to comfort her as best as I could, but Fred and George didn't help in the slightest. They would cover themselves in fur or boils and jump out at her from behind statues.
They only stopped when Percy told them he was going to write to Mrs Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.
There was also a roaring trade of various protective devices hidden from the teachers' knowledge. Neville had bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt-tail before the other Gryffindor boys had pointed out to him that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood.
"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful, "and everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."
. . . . .
The second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around as usual to collect names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all signed up when we heard Malfoy was staying, which struck us as suspicious. The holidays would also be a good chance to use the Polyjuice Potion, since there would be less people around.
Unfortunately, though, the potion was only half finished. We still needed the Bicorn horn and Boomslang skin, which were in Snape's private stores.
"What we need," Hermione said briskly, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need."
"Who's going to do the actual stealing?" I asked.
"I think I'd better do it," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You three will be expelled if you get in any more trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."
Although Hermione's plan was risky, it was the only one we had, which meant we had no choice but to go through with it.
During the next Thursday's afternoon lesson, we were set to make Swelling Solutions. Snape, as usual, was prowling through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors' work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively.
Malfoy, Snape's favourite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Ron and Harry, making me roll my eyes at his immaturity. My Swelling Solution was coming along nicely, and I was just waiting for Hermione's signal.
When Snape turned to bully Neville, Hermione nodded. That was Harry's cue to duck behind his cauldron, pull out one of Fred's Filibuster fireworks, and aim it straight at Goyle's cauldron. He gave it a prod with his wand, and it started fizzing before launching itself in the air, landing right on target.
Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class, making people shriek as they got hit. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon, and Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of dinner plates. Snape, meanwhile, was trying unsuccessfully to calm everyone down and find out what happened.
"Silence! SILENCE!" he roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught. When I find out who did this . . ."
I bit my lip to suppress a bubble of laughter at the sight of Malfoy's head being weighed down by his nose. As half the class lumbered up to Snape's desk, I saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, her robes bulging.
When everyone had taken some of the antidote, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework, causing a sudden hush to fall over the classroom.
"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall make sure that person is expelled."
He was looking right at Harry, who wore a puzzled expression. Ten minutes later, the bell rang.
"He knew it was me," Harry told Ron, Hermione and I as we hurried back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "I could tell."
Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.
"It'll be ready in a fortnight," she said happily.
"Snape has no way of proving it was you," I told Harry reassuringly. "There's nothing he can do."
"Yeah, but knowing Snape, he'll find something foul," Harry said, as the potion frothed and bubbled.
. . . . .
A week later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were walking across the Entrance Hall when we saw a small knot of people gathered around the noticeboard, reading a small piece of parchment that had been recently pinned up. Seamus and Dean beckoned us over, looking excited.
"They're starting a Duelling Club!" Seamus exclaimed. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind duelling lessons, they might come in handy one of these days . . ."
"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Ron asked, but he also looked interested.
"Could be useful," he said to Harry, Hermione and me as we went to dinner. "Shall we go?"
"We should go," I said, and Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement.
At eight o'clock that evening, the four of us hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. It seemed that half the school was there, holding their wands and looking excited.
"I wonder who'll be teaching us," Hermione said. "Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it'll be him."
"As long as it's not —" Harry began, but he ended in a groan.
Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum, accompanied by none other than Snape.
Of course, my two favourite teachers.
Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
No, not excellent. Go away.
"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club," he continued, "to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for details, see my published works.
"Let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape," Lockhart said, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"
"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered to me and Harry.
Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed, or at least, Lockhart did. While the aforementioned did so with much twirling of his hands, Snape just jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.
"As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."
"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured to me, and I nodded, watching Snape as he bared his teeth.
"One — two — three —"
Both of them swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.
Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered, while Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's alright?" she squealed through her fingers.
"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione," I said, patting her shoulder and rolling my eyes when she wasn't looking.
"Who cares?" Harry and Ron chorused.
Lockhart's hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end when he managed to get to his feet.
"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . ."
Snape looked murderous, and for once, I didn't blame him.
"Enough demonstrating!" Lockhart said. "I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me . . ."
They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Dean, but Snape reached Ron and Harry first.
"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —"
Harry immediately moved towards me.
"I don't think so," Snape said, smiling coldly. "Mr Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. You, Miss Areli, can partner Mr Finch-Fletchley, and Miss Granger — you can partner Miss Bulstrode."
I sent Harry and Hermione sympathetic glances as Malfoy and an especially unpleasant-looking Slytherin girl strutted over, smirks on their faces.
"Hello," I said politely to Justin Finch-Fletchley.
"Hey, Aurora!" he replied cheerfully. "Go easy on me, will you?"
I just sent him a smile before bowing. Not a chance.
"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart shouted. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent — only to disarm them — we don't want any accidents. One . . . two . . . three . . ."
Justin shouted "Flipendo!" which I dodged, scowling, and replied with "Expelliarmus!"
Justin's wand was expelled from his grip, and flew up into the air. I quickly caught it, smirking at his stunned expression.
"Good try," I said, handing him back his wand.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Guess you're not just a pretty girl after all."
That comment caught me off guard. When he said to "go easy on him", it was meant as a joke, not a genuine request like I thought. Was that really how people saw me?
"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. It was then that I noticed the chaos around me.
"Finite Incantatem!" Snape shouted, causing the room to fall still. I took that moment to look at everyone else.
Through a haze of greenish smoke, I saw Neville and Dean lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done; Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain, both of their wands lying forgotten. I was about to go help, but Harry jumped in and separated them.
"Dear, dear," Lockhart said, observing the aftermath of the duels. "Up you get, Macmillan . . . careful there, Miss Fawcett . . . pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot . . ."
"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said a flustered Lockhart. He glanced at Snape, but quickly turned away. "Let's have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Thomas, how about you?"
"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, gliding over like a malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Thomas up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." I frowned when Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "How about Malfoy and Potter?"
"Excellent idea!" Lockhart said, gesturing Harry and Malfoy to the middle of the Hall, while the rest of us backed away to give them room.
"Now, Harry," I heard Lockhart say, "when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."
He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action and dropped it. I noticed Snape smirk as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops — my wand is a little over-excited."
Was he trying to look stupid on purpose?
Malfoy smirked when Snape bend down and whispered something to him. This didn't look good.
Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"
"What, drop my wand?"
Lockhart didn't appear to be listening.
"Three — two — one — go!" he shouted.
Malfoy quickly raised his wand and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"
The end of his wand exploded, and I gasped from my place next to Justin as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between Harry and Malfoy and raised itself, ready to strike.
"Don't move, Potter," Snape said lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing there, motionless and eye to eye with a snake. "I'll get rid of it."
"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted. He brandished his wand at the snake and a loud bang followed. Instead of vanishing, the snake flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, the snake hissed furiously and slithered right towards me and Justin, raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.
I watched with wide eyes as it came closer, not noticing that Justin had begun backing away, leaving me to stand there, frozen. What frightened me even more was when Harry began hissing at the snake, and that it seemed to understand him.
I felt two pairs of hands pull me back, away from the now docile snake and a grinning Harry, who I was looking at with fear and confusion. He wouldn't send the snake after us, would he?
"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted, before turning and storming out of the Hall.
Snape gave Harry a calculating look, and vanished the snake in a puff of black smoke with a wave of his wand.
"Rory?" Harry said, looking confused. I didn't know what to say to him, so I let Hermione take my hand and lead me out of the Great Hall with Harry and Ron while people watched us apprehensively.
Once we made it back to the empty Gryffindor common room, Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, "You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"
"I'm a what?" Harry said.
"A Parselmouth," Ron said. "You can talk to snakes!"
"I know," Harry said. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once — long story — but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to. That was before I knew I was a wizard . . ."
"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.
"So?" Harry said. "I bet a lot of people here can do it."
"Oh no they can't," Ron shook his head. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."
"What's bad?" Harry said indignantly. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Rory and Justin —"
"Oh, that's what you said to it?" Ron said.
"What d'you mean? You were there . . . you heard me."
"Harry, we heard you speaking Parseltongue," I spoke up for the first time in a while. "Snake language."
"Yeah, you could have been saying anything," Ron said. "No wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something. It was creepy, you know . . ."
Harry gaped at us.
"I spoke a different language? But — I didn't realize — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"
Ron shook his head while Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically and I stared down at the ground.
"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a dirty great snake biting Rory's head off?" Harry said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Rory and Justin don't have to join the Headless Hunt?"
"It matters," Hermione said, speaking fast and in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin house is a serpent."
Harry's mouth fell open.
"Exactly," Ron said. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something."
"But I'm not," Harry said in a panicked voice.
"You'll find that hard to prove," Hermione said grimly. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know you could be."
Harry stopped me on the stairs after I said I was going to bed, still shaken up from the events of the Duelling Club.
"What is it, Harry?" I said, crossing my arms around myself.
"You know I didn't send that snake after you and Justin, right?" he asked.
"Yeah — I-I know," I said quietly, looking down. Though it had scared me when Harry started speaking Parseltongue, I knew deep down that he wouldn't hurt a fly.
"Okay," Harry said. "I just — I just wanted to make sure you knew, that's all."
Then, he gave me an awkward sort of smile before heading back into the common room. What confused me even more was the fact that every time Harry talked to me, his face seemed to be tinted pink.
. . . . .
The next morning, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard, causing Herbology to be cancelled. Professor Sprout wanted to put socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a task she would entrust to no one else, since it was important for them to grow quickly to revive Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey.
Hermione and Ron used our free time to play a game of wizard chess, while I tried to read a book about different kinds of monsters. It was hard to concentrate, though, because Harry kept bouncing his foot or chewing his nails anxiously.
After twenty minutes of unsuccessfully trying to read, I snapped my book shut and stood up in front of the raven-haired boy.
"Come on, get up," I demanded. "We're going to find Justin, since it's obviously bothering you so much."
The castle was darker than usual, thanks to the thick, swirling grey snow at every window, blocking the sunlight. We walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching glimpses of what was happening within. By the sound of it, Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who had tried to turn his friend into a badger.
"We should check the library," Harry suggested. "Justin might be in there catching up on some work or something."
I nodded, shivering from the cold.
Harry's guess was close, as there was indeed a group of Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology sitting in the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Through the bookshelves, I could see them huddled together, talking seriously.
Harry grabbed my hand and tugged me towards them, stopping once we could hear what they were saying.
"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in out dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let it slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"
"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" a girl with blonde pigtails asked anxiously.
"Hannah," the stout boy said solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."
I frowned at the heavy murmuring that followed, before Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing you know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know, Creevey's been attacked."
"He always seems so nice, though," Hannah said uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"
Harry's grip on my hand tightened when we edged closer so that we could hear when Ernie dropped his voice mysteriously.
"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted to smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"
Harry cleared his throat loudly as he pulled me with him out from behind the bookshelves. When I looked up at him, he looked furious. All of the Hufflepuffs looked like they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the colour was draining out of Ernie's face.
"Hello," Harry greeted. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."
The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had evidently been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.
"What do you want with him?" Ernie asked, his voice quavering.
"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Duelling Club," Harry explained.
Ernie bit his white lips, took a deep breath, and said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."
"Then you noticed that, after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" Harry said.
"All I saw," Ernie said stubbornly, but failing to hide his trembling voice, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing that snake towards her," he pointed to me, "and Justin."
"I didn't chase him!" Harry denied, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him or Rory!"
"It was a very near miss," Ernie said. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and wizards and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"
"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" Harry said fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"
"Harry," I said softly, squeezing his hand to let him know he should calm down. He took a deep breath, still seeming angry, only a little less.
"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," Ernie pointed out.
"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," Harry retorted. "I'd like to see you try it. Let's go, Rory."
I nodded, frowning at the group of Hufflepuffs as we left the library, earning a reproving glare from Madam Pince.
"You shouldn't let them get to you," I said as we made our way up the corridor. "They don't know the whole story, and they're scared. They just want something to pin the blame on to make them feel better."
"I know, you're right, but," Harry sighed, "it's so frustrating to have everyone turn against you for something that isn't even your fault."
"I know," I said, squeezing his hand sympathetically. "And I'm sorry, it isn't fair."
We turned a corner, only to bump into something very large and solid, which knocked us backwards onto the floor.
"Oh, hullo, Hagrid," Harry said, looking up.
Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but a person this big couldn't possibly have been someone else, not unless they were two people stacked together. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.
"All righ', you two?" he said, pulling the balaclava up so that he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"
"Cancelled," Harry said, getting up and offering me a hand. "What're you doing in here?"
Hagrid held up the limp rooster.
"Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the Headmaster's permission ter put a charm round the hen-coop."
He peered more closely at us from under his thick, snow-covered eyebrows.
"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered."
"It's nothing," Harry said. "We'd better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next and we've got to pick up our books."
I waved at our giant friend before following Harry back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. After climbing up a set of stairs, we turned down a particularly dark corridor; the torches seemed to have been extinguished by a strong, icy draft which was blowing through a loose window pane. We were halfway down the passage when I tripped over something lying on the floor.
"Are you alright, Rory?" Harry asked.
I didn't answer. Instead, I tried to squint at what I'd fallen over, and when I saw what it was, it felt as though my stomach had dissolved.
Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. As if it wasn't bad enough, Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, was floating immobile horizontally, six inches off the floor with his head half off.
I scrambled to my feet, feeling my heartbeat pick up and my breathing quicken. I stumbled over to Harry, who pulled the both of us towards a wall. There was a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies.
"We should — we need to go get help," I stammered as a door next to us opened with a bang, and Peeves came shooting out.
"Why it's potty wee Potter and baby Areli!" the poltergeist cackled, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past us. "What's Potter and baby Areli up to? Why're they lurking —"
Peeves stopped, halfway through a mid-air somersault. Upside-down, he spotted Justin and Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs, and before Harry or I could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"
Crash — crash — crash: door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry and I found ourselves pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet.
Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black and white striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back to their classes. Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived as soon as the scene had somewhat cleared, panting.
"Caught in the act!" he yelled, dramatically pointing at Harry.
"That will do, Macmillan," Professor McGonagall said sharply.
Peeves was bobbing overhead, grinning widely, clearly enjoying the chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick to examine them, Peeves broke into song:
"Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done?
You're killing off students, you think it's good fun —"
"That's enough, Peeves!" Professor McGonagall barked, and Peeves zoomed backwards with his tongue out at Harry.
Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra carried Justin up to the hospital wing, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Sir Nick. Professor McGonagall ended up conjuring up a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie and told him to waft Gryffindor's ghost back up the stairs. Ernie did this, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft, leaving Harry, Professor McGonagall, and I alone in the corridor.
"This way, you two," she said.
"Professor, please, Harry didn't do anything, neither of us did —" I tried to explain, but Professor McGonagall cut me off.
"This is out of my hands, Miss Areli."
We marched in silence around a corner until she stopped before a large, extremely ugly gargoyle.
"Sherbet lemon!" Professor McGonagall said, and it only made sense that that was some kind of password. If I wasn't so scared, I would have been more impressed when the gargoyle sprang to life and the wall behind him split in two. We walked through the opening to a spiral staircase which moved smoothly upwards. I heard a thud when the wall closed behind us, and we rose higher and higher.
Ahead, there was a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffon, leading to where Dumbledore lived.