Gaunt ~ Book 2

Eighteen~Gaunt

a/n: Same reminder as usual, I'm combining J.K. Rowling's work with my own. Hope you enjoy!

When Marvolo had stopped marveling over the decorations in the Great Hall, his mind went immediately to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. How was the death day party? Was everything okay? The gold platers magically filled with food.

"Remember the Slytherin party Pansy was talking about?" Malfoy asked, ladling food onto his plate. "I heard from Flint that they're planning to stay up past midnight. You should come!"

"I have no choice," said Marvolo. "I'm a Slytherin."

"Oh, yeah," Malfoy smiled. "I can't wait!" 

He turned to his packed plate and began eating. Marvolo's eyes drifted to the entrance but none of his friends came through. He looked back at the food in front of him and saw roast chicken, roast beef, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes and more. Marvolo followed Malfoy's example and filled his plate.

After the plates had magically vanished desert and Dumbledore spoke for a bit, the students were dismissed. As the students surged out of the Great Hall, the Slytherins around Marvolo began talking about the party some of the seventh years were throwing. Marvolo tuned into their conversation and almost ran into a Hufflepuff at the front of the crowd who had stopped dead. Marvolo followed her gaze. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing in a big puddle of water next to a wall that was smeared with something red.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE. 

There was something hanging from a torch bracket underneath it. Something small, definitely an animal. Then Marvolo saw its eyes, scared wide. They were lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris. Marvolo felt his jaw fall of its own accord. Harry found him in the crowd, panic filling his eyes.

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 horror.

"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!" 

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 Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs - please feel free —"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. This time it was Hermione who looked at Marvolo. She looked scared, her eyes were pleading for help. And all Marvolo did was close his mouth and swallow.

Once they had disappeared, nervous Prefects ordered students back to their dormitories.

"Is the party still on?" Marvolo heard a Slytherin third year ask Marcus Flint.

"You bet," Flint sneered. "But now we'll have an extra thing to celebrate."

"The cat was Petrified,"

It was mid-charms and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were filling in Marvolo about what had happened.

"Petrified?" Marvolo said. "They know you guys can't have done it! Second years can't petrify! That's really advanced Dark Magic."

"That's what Dumbledore said!" Ron hissed.

"How'd you end up there anyway?" Marvolo asked.

"Well, we were going to go to the Great Hall to finish up dinner . . ." Hermione glanced at Harry nervously and didn't continue.

Marvolo looked between them, "What happened?"

Harry swallowed, "I heard a disembodied voice in the walls."

"You what?"

"I've been hearing it ever since I did my detention with Lockhart for flying the car into the Whomping Willow," said Harry.

"It's been that long?" hissed Marvolo, finding it very hard not to yell. "And you didn't think to tell me?" 

"We never found the time," said Harry apologetically.

"Oh yeah, so all those lessons we've had together since then weren't a good time for you."

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry said. "I heard the voice and followed it. That's when we found Mrs. Norris."

"Yeah, we were going to leave but then everyone showed up," said Ron. "We told the teachers that we were at Nick's death day party but I think if you told them they would believe us," 

The bell rang, signaling the end of the period.

"Well, I have to go to History of Magic," said Marvolo, packing up his stuff. "Good luck in Herbology."

History of Magic was the dullest subject on Marvolo's schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his class was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staffroom fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Malfoy put up his hand. Marvolo was surprised he was even still awake.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1928, looked amazed.

"Mr. — er —"

"Draco Malfoy, sir. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Malfoy in a somewhat clear voice.

Blaise Zabini, who had been sitting with his mouth open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Pansy Parkinson's head came up off her arms and Millicent Bulstrode's elbow slipped off her desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Mr. Malfoy, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise that sounded like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers —"

He stuttered to a halt. Malfoy's hand was waving in the air again.

"Mr. Malloy?"

"Please, Professor, don't legends have to stay on the basis of fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at him in such amazement, Marvolo was sure no student had ever interrupted him, dead or alive. The rest of the class was looking at Malfoy the same way. How did he know all this?