Gaunt ~ Book 2

Thirty-seven~Potter

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

Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into the girl's bathroom, the girl's bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible.

But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

"Exams?" howled Seamus Finnegan. "We're still getting exams?"

There was a loud bang behind Harry as Neville Longbottom's wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs of his desk. Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus.

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," she said sternly. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

Studying hard! It had never occurred to Harry that there would be exams with the castle in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible," she said. "And that, I hardly need to point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year."

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those who have been Petrified. I need hardly to remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

Harry knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without their help, but he wasn't about to pass up a chance to talk to Myrtle it it turned up — and to his delight it did, mid morning, when they were being led to History of Magic with the Slytherins by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around the corner. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be 'It was Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

"I agree, sir," said Harry, making Ron drop his books in surprise.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night. . . ."

"That's right," said Ron, catching on. "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go—"

"You know, Weasley, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go and prepare my next class—"

And he hurried off.

"Prepare for his class," Ron sneered after him. "Gone to curl his hair, more like."

They let the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins pull ahead of them — making sure Marvolo didn't join them —then darted down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other on their brilliant scheme —

"Potter! Gaunt! Weasley! What are you doing?"

It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines.

"We were — we were —" Ron stammered. "We were going to — to go and see —"

"Hermione," said Marvolo. Harry, Ron, and McGonagall all looked at him.

"We haven't seen her for ages, Professor," Marvolo went on, treading on Harry and Ron's feet, "and we thought we'd sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and not to worry —"

Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she might explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.

"Of course," she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. "Of course, I realize that this has been hardest on the friends of those who have been . . . I quite understand. Yes, Gaunt, of course you can go see Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

Harry, Ron, and Marvolo walked away,hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"That," said Ron fervently. "Was the best story you've ever come up with."

They had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no point talking to a Petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to Hermione. It was plain that Hermione didn't have the faintest inkling that she had visitors, they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know. . . ."

But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested in her right hand. It lay clenched on the top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Ron and Marvolo.

"Try and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey's view.

It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it. While Ron and Marvolo kept watch as he tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes the paper came free.

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron and Marvolo leaned close to read it too.