LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 1 : SCENE 2 : CHAPTER 19
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October approached, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle – and it was especially cold in the dungeons. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students - which were mostly Slytherin. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Anthony, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Y/N. He was steaming at the ears for hours, but his color had come back to his face.
Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Marcus Flint's love for crashing Gryffindor practices, however, was not dampened, leaving Madam Hooch to split the field in half and put up an invisible blockade to reduce fighting. That was why, on one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, Y/N and Harry were found to be walking the deserted corridors, as everyone was in their own Common Rooms, enjoying steaming cups of cocoa.
"Come up to the Gryffindor tower?" asked Harry as they squelched along the corridor.
"I'll shower then come up," said Y/N. "Password?"
"Wattlebird," said Harry, and they parted ways at the stairs down to the dungeons.
Y/N sludged to the Slytherin common room, exhausted as she navigated through groups of friends, who were sprawled all over the floors and sofas and chairs, sharing tens of blankets. She finally made it to her dorm and showered, putting her muddy clothes in the hamper. Slinging her bag over her shoulder and snatching up her diary, she, once again, stepped through the tiniest path out of the Slytherin common room, and slowly marched up to the Gryffindor tower. Oddly, she found Harry almost at the portrait, and used the rest of her strength to catch up to him.
They found Hermione and Ron sitting in armchairs before the fire and dodged and slipped around Gryffindors (who had been doing the same as the Slytherins) to reach them. Harry, however went up to his dorm to change, but was back soon to tell them about the Gryffindor Ghost's (Nearly Headless Nick's) Deathday Party.
"A deathday party?" said Hermione keenly, shivering as she pulled her jumper over her knuckles. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those – it'll be fascinating!"
"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me . . . ."
"Well, count me out," Y/N said quickly, eager to tell them about what she heard. She hadn't had the chance to in the past week or so, but now was the perfect time. "Listen, on the night Harry and Ron had their detentions, I heard this voice –"
Harry, who's head had been laying in Y/N's lap, perked up. "What did it say?"
Y/N told him and he turned to Ron, saying, "So I wasn't the only one!"
"So you heard it too?" asked Y/N, but at that moment the eight o'clock bell had rung and it was five minutes until her curfew. Sighing, Y/N gathered up her stuff and looked expectantly to Harry– he nodded a yes, leaving her more confused than ever.
By the time Halloween arrived, Y/N was glad she had decided to skip Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party. The school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.
At six-thirty, Y/N and the rest of the Slytherins trudged up from the dungeons to the Great Hall. They mingled with the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors, who were all as excited for the feast as they were. All the professors were already at the High-table; Professor Dumbledore was wearing a hat made of live bats, Professor McGonagall was comically wearing cat ears, and Professor Lockhart's robes were a bright pumpkin orange, with a matching orange hat. Professor Sprout was dressed as a torn-up gardener, Madam Pomfrey as a zombie-nurse, and Professor Snape as himself– which was scary enough. Professor Flitwick charmed himself as a gnome and Madam Pince dressed as a scary librarian, but it wasn't like she needed to dress up for that.
Once they had all settled and sat, Professor Dumbledore waved his hand and the tables filled with candy-filled pumpkins, apples, black cauldrons of big lollipops, carrot cake, goblets of coloured candy, and jugs of pumpkin juice. Halloween-themed feast food also appeared, such as pumpkin shepherd's pie, meatballs disguised as realistic eyes, and potato-spiders. The hall chatted with buzzing excitement, most conversations centered around questions on the end-of-feast entertainment that Professor Dumbledore had planned out.
Pumpkin pie seemed to be the specialty on the dessert menu for the evening, but Y/N hated pumpkin pie. Lucky for her, apple pie was also served, along with treacle tart, toffee pudding, custard tart, and rice pudding. She served herself a large slice of apple pie, knowing she would regret it later but still proceeding with it.
Soon, the food part of the feast ended and the Great Hall doors flung open. Milk-white bones rolled down the four tables, frightening many students as they rolled past them. Y/N watched curiously as they bounced off the end of the tables and formed into human skeletons – spooky music started playing and the skeletons started dancing.
Cheers erupted in the hall. They clapped to the music and watched the skeletons dance and tumble and rearrange themselves in complicated positions and whatnot. All too soon, the dancing skeletons finished their dance and tumbled out of the Great Hall.
Not soon after, the Hogwarts ghosts popped out of the walls and performed some intricate formation gliding. Y/N, who'd drank too much pumpkin juice, claimed she was off to the girl's lavatory and exited the hall, uncaring for the ghosts' performance. She was halfway down the corridor when she heard it.
". . . rip . . . tear . . . kill . . ."
It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice she had heard that night in front of the fire.
She stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all her might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit corridor. Y/N shut her eyes and listened, hoping to be able to pinpoint where it was coming from.
". . . soo hungry . . . for so long . . "
She broke out into a cold sweat, eyebrows furrowed and ears straining. If she could just locate where it was coming from. . . .
". . . kill . . . time to kill . . ."
The voice was growing fainter – it was going up? Y/N ran, ran like her life depended on it and kept her hand on the wall for guidance as she concentrated on the voice. She ran blindly, following a very faint, but very there dragging noise, like a hand being dragged along a polished desk.
Running up the stone steps that were all-to-familiar to her, Y/N heard the murderous voice growing stronger and stronger, ". . . I smell blood. . . . I SMELL BLOOD!"
And then, as if it was never there, all sound ceased to exist, and it was just Y/N in the passageway. Her eyes opened, but the dimly lit corridor wasn't much different from the darkness behind her lids.
Heart-pounding and sweat running down her temples, Y/N ran down the passageway, where another passageway connected perpendicularly. She went to turn left but a force from her right knocked her off her feet and three robed figures stood before her.
"Y/N?" came the familiar voice of Ron.
Y/N looked up. There they were – Harry, Ron, and Hermione, dressed in their Gryffindor robes. They looked at her, concerned, and Harry helped her up, grasping her at the arms. She looked at them oddly.
"Aren't you supposed to be at that Deathday party– what's that?"
Something was shining on the wall behind them. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN
OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.
"What's that thing – hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.
As they edged nearer, Y/N almost slipped – there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Harry grabbed her, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All four of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.
Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.
For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."
"Shouldn't we try and help –" Hermione began awkwardly.
"Trust me," said Ron, his voice quivering. "We don't want to be found here."
But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; the next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.
The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Y/N stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.
Then someone shouted through the quiet.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.
"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in terror. Daphne, who had seen Y/N, took his moment of complete and utter shock to snatch her from Ron and Harry, and pulled her into the Slytherin crowd, forcing Theodore and Blaise to hold her up – as Y/N was too shaken stand on her own.
"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.
And his popping eyes fell on Harry.
"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll –"
"Argus!"
Professor Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger."
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly in his bright orange robes.
"My office is nearest, headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free –"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Professor Dumbledore.
The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.
The other teachers, however, herded off the crowd and directed them to their dormitories. Although, Professor Sprout told Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne to take Y/N up to the hospital wing, because she was "looking particularly sickly."
They did and Madam Pomfrey gave Y/N a mix of a calming draught and a draught of peace. She had wanted to give Y/N a sleeping draught (as she was to be kept overnight) but Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne begged her to give them five more minutes. With a huff, Madam Pomfrey set the potion on Y/N's bedside and closed the curtain around them.
"You left the Great Hall and ended up" – Daphne peeked out of the curtain to make sure Madam Pomfrey wasn't listening – "at the scene of the crime! What's up with that?"
Y/N sighed and sat up, leaning against her pillows. She ran her hands down her face. She was feeling significantly better, but she did still feel slightly sick, like she was going to throw up.
"Listen," she said, "I've been hearing these voices."
Y/N explained what's been going on with her and told them about the voices both she and Harry have been hearing, all the way up to what had happened today. They listened intently and tried to figure out possible reasons for it, but nothing reasonable came out of it. But unfortunately, it had been well over five minutes and Madam Pomfrey was shooing the three Slytherins out, claiming Y/N needed to rest.
Sighing, Y/N took the Sleeping Draught and almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.