The Slytherin Sister

Chapter 5

Halloween was wonderful and the feast was simply divine, it was all too easy to forget what had happened on this very day, eleven years ago. An all too familiar sense of foreboding crept in as the night wore on, diminishing the joy and extravagance of the festivities. I was all too glad when the evening came to an end and everyone began to depart for bed.

Much to my dismay, that nagging sense of unease only seemed to grow with every step I took. As we rounded a corner, entering a new corridor, the crowd seemed to freeze as though rooted to the spot. Draco grabbed my hand and together we wove in and out of bodies until we reached the front and had a clear view.

My heart stopped at what I saw. The caretaker's, Finn or Flint or something of the sort, cat was dead, hanging by her scrawny tail, from a torch bracket upon the wall. And on the wall, written in blood...

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

And standing there, in the middle of it all, was my brother, Hermione and Ron.

Beside me, Draco sneered, "Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" I turned and glared at him, but he wasn't paying me any attention. There was a mad glint in his eyes, I certain glee that I had never before witnessed in him. It was same look that came into Uncle Vernon's eyes before he would lock Harry in the cupboard without any supper or make me scrub all of the floors with the tiniest brush imaginable. Seeing that look in my best friend's eyes was unsettling to say the least, and the words he spat did nothing to quell my mounting trepidation.

I turned back to face Harry, attempting to communicate with him silently, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. Had he done this? No, he couldn't have, what reason did he have for killing a cat.

Suddenly Flinch or Fargus, maybe Fango, no that wasn't right either, burst from the crowd and screamed, in utter despair, "My cat! My cat! What has happened to Mrs. Norris?"

A surge of pity swept through me, if my cat had been murdered and hung upon the wall as some sort of sick trophy, I would be angry, I would likely react in a similar manor. I still was doubting the name I had given to the little gremlin, who had busied himself with chewing on my hair, his tiny claws digging into my skin. It wasn't his fault, of course, he was too young to be able to retract them just yet, but still the feeling was unpleasant.

My thoughts were torn away from him as Fanch began to shout, with growing volume, at Harry, "You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you!"

I dislodged my kitten from my robes and pushed him into Draco's arms before stalking forward, past the line of watching students. "Sir," I began, trying to cover not knowing his name, "Why would Potter have killed your cat?" I asked placatingly. My hope was that Flavius would realize how preposterous the idea was, but Fabian was ready with an explanation.

"He was in my office! He went through my things! And he- He..." Felvon trailed off. Had Harry found a secret in his office? Had Harry done this? No, no, no. I mentally chastised myself for thinking it, even for a moment. Harry would not have killed her! Harry was no murderer!

"I really don't think that is cause for him to murder your cat!" I said, silently willing him to understand. Flance was unconvinced.

"He did it! I know he did!" He screamed. He was walking towards Harry now, a finger pointing accusingly at his chest.

But then Professor Dumbledore was there, "Argus, please come with me. And the four of you." He said calmly, looking at Hermione, Ron, Harry and I over top of his half moon spectacles. I glanced back at Harry before walking in Dumbledore's direction. Lockhart offered for Dumbledore to use his office, but I wasn't paying attention. I walked straight to Draco and snatched my kitten from his grasp. He opened his mouth, but I was already turning away, and without a second glance I followed Dumbledore to the office.

We were an odd procession, Farlen, Hermione, Lockhart, Harry, Snape, Ron, Dumbledore, McGonagall and me. It took me several moments to realize that Dumbledore was holding the dead cat. When had he gotten her?

"Headmaster," Snape said, "I believe Miss. Evans had no part in this, I saw her in the Great Hall. Unless I am mistaken, she left at the same time as everyone else. However, I cannot say the same for the other three."

Finch began to sob uncontrollably in the corner. Dumbledore did not seem to be listening, he was examining Mrs. Norris and muttering under his breath.

Lockhart began to ramble about some adventure of his. Dumbledore finally looked up and interrupting Lockhart mid sentence, said, "She isn't dead."

"What?" I asked, utterly perplexed.

"She has been petrified. Once the mandrakes have grown, she can be healed."

"How?" Asked McGonagall in a whisper.

"That, I do not know." Dumbledore said, almost wistfully.

"Ask him!" Flam hissed, pointing to Harry once again.

"It wasn't him, no second year could have done this, it would require highly advanced dark magic to do this." Dumbledore explained patiently.

Still, Flargie would not budge, "He did it! I know he did! You all saw what he wrote on the wall! He found my- in my office, he saw- he knows- he knows I'm a squib!"

"Aren't you listening? He couldn't have done this! He can barely do second year charms, let alone advanced dark magic! And why the hell would he write that on the wall! He has no problem with Mudb- muggle borns! One of his best friend's is Hermione!" I spat, entirely fed up with this man. Though to be fair, my cat was purring in my arms, while his lay motionless and stiff as a board.

"What's a squib?" Asked Harry. I wanted to roll my eyes, he really had no sense of timing here, but nosy as ever, he needed answers.

"A squib is a person born of a magical family, but without magical abilities. Basically the opposite of someone muggle born." Ron explained quickly. Snape glared at him. Ron wisely shut his mouth.

"I know he killed her!" Flibbie exclaimed.

"She is not dead! And perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, though it is suspicious." Snape said coldly. "Why were you in the upstairs corridor and why weren't you at the feast?"

Hermione was quick to answer, "We were at Sir Nicholas' death day party and then we decided to head up to our common room because we were tired."

"Without any supper?" Snape hissed, sounding triumphant.

Ron opened his mouth but I beat him to it. Everyone in this room knew Harry and my secret already anyway, "Our parents were killed today!" I said harshly, I took a deep breath before continuing, "Eleven years ago, Voldemort came into our house and killed them! Tell me Professor, would that make you want to attend a feast, join in the festivities? Would it give you an appetite? Because I personally wasn't in the partying mood! Nor was I very hungry."

I glared at Snape, daring him to contradict me, to push. He stared back for several long moments before giving in.

"I suppose I would not be in the mood for a feast." He conceded quietly. I turned away from him to find Hermione, Ron and Harry looking at me with shocked expressions plastered across their faces. Dumbledore was looking at me in the most peculiar way, and as his gaze lingered, I grew evermore uncomfortable.

"Off to bed." Dumbledore said softly.

We went.