The Younger Potter

6

The weeks had gone by fast and it was finally the eighth of October. Meaning it was the month of her parents death anniversary.

Her friends had all noticed this and always made sure that she was happy. Which she was grateful for.

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It was finally the 31st of October, a night that I didn't like to celebrate as it was on that night, 11 years ago, I had lost my parents to Voldemort.

I wanted to get my revenge so bad. I wanted him to be killed. I wanted to spend time with my parents.

The third years had finally gotten to go on their first Hogsmeade trip. All except for Harry, who was off, somewhere else, because his permission slip didn't get signed.

I was mostly looking forward to the feast. From what everyone told me, it was going to be the most wonderful thing in the world. And it sure was.

The Great Hall had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats and many orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious, with Charlotte and her friends, getting second helpings of everything. Throughout the meal, Charlotte noticed that her brother kept on glancing at Professor Lupin, but she ignored it, thinking nothing of it.

Finally, the feast ended with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

Charlotte, Samantha, and Lindsay followed the rest of the Gyrffindors along the usual path to Gyrffindor  Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

They were chatting mindlessly, waiting to be let in when Samantha got a view of the portrait, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Sam? What is it?" Charlotte asked, but she only pointed at the portrait with a shaky finger.

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password--excuse me, I'm Head Boy--"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait: the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professor Mcgonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor Mcgonagall, please go to Mr.Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeve's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was not better than his cackle. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing." he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his very own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

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