Dumbledore's half-blood grand-daughter: Year One

Chapter Fifteen: Another Clue to the Mystery

Things couldn't have been worse. Filch took us down to Auntie Minerva's study on the first floor, where we sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around my brain, each more feeble than the last. I couldn't see how we were going to get out of trouble this time. We were cornered. Unlike Filch Auntie Minerva wouldn’t favor me because of my grandfather. In fact, she would punish me worse. How could we have been so stupid as to forget the cloak?

There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for our being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and we might as well be packing their bags already.

When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville. "Harry!" Neville burst Out, the moment he saw us. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag --" Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the four of us.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves." It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. "I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too."

I caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville -- I knew what it must have cost him to try and find us in the dark, to warn us.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. And Taylor, you of all people know I do not stand for rule breaking! I am very disappointed in you. All four of you will receive detentions -- yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous -- and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor." "Fifty." Harry gasped -- they would lose the lead, the lead we'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose. "Professor -- please "You can't --" "Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students." Two Hundred points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, we'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. I felt as though the bottom had dropped out of my stomach. How could we ever make up for this. I didn't sleep all night. I was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what we'd done.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could we suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday. And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, and Taylor Barnet, the princess, their heros of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, them and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being two of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry and I were suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on us, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry and I went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted us. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as we walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, Barnet we owe you one!" Only Ron stood by us.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them." "They've never lost two hundred points in one go, though, have they." said Harry miserably. "Well -- no," Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry told me he swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it with sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team. "Resign." Wood thundered. "What good'll that do. How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch."

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry or me during practice, and if they had to speak about us, they called him "the Seeker," and me “the blond chaser” Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry and I, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. I took a different approach. I drew more attention to myself in class trying to make up for lost points.

I was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying I had to do kept my mind off my misery. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I kept to ourselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions....

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on our own one afternoon, Harry and I heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As we drew closer, we heard Quirrell's voice.

"No -- no -- not again, please --" It sounded as though someone was threatening him. We moved closer. "All right -- all right --" he heard Quirrell sob. Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; I didn't think Quirrell had even noticed us.

We waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling, and took off. I instead looked in the door. It was a closet. It was worse than I thought. Voldemort had a soul to live off and it was Quirrell’s. I just had to find out what other magic he was using for strength because the dark magic that I now knew was coming from Quirrell’s turban, was much too strong for only a soul to live on. Little did I know I would find that answer soon enough.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, Neville, and I at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

Your detention will take place

at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet

Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.
         -Professor McGonagall

I had forgotten we still had detentions to do. I half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like me, she felt she’d deserved what we’d got.