A Different Story

Chapter 24

31st Of October, 1992

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire.

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On Halloween, as a favor to Nearly-Headless Nick, Harry, Arcturus, Damian, Daphne, and Hermione skip the Halloween feast and attend Nick’s Deathday Party in the dungeons.

But after just thirty minutes, they regretted coming here, so they planned to leave.

"Let’s go," Harry said. They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later, they were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles. leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall. And then Harry heard it. ". . . rip . . . tear . . . kill . . ." It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice that he had heard in Lockhart’s office.

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what’re you doing?" 

"It’s that voice again." 

". . . soo hungry . . . for so long . . ."

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and they all froze, watching him.

". . . kill . . . time to kill . . ." The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away, moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling. How could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom to whom stone ceilings didn’t matter? "This way!" he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here; the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, all of them clattering behind him.

"Harry, what’re we —"

"SHH!" Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: ". . . I smell blood. . . . I SMELL BLOOD!" His stomach lurched.

"It’s going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring all of their bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor. They were all panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, what was that all about?" Damian asked, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn’t hear anything."

But Daphne gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor. "Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

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

"What’s that thing hanging underneath?" Hermione asked with a slight quiver in her voice. As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped. There was a large puddle of water on the floor; Arcturus grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Damian said, "Let’s get out of here."

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy chatter of well-fed people; the next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Arcturus, Daphne, Damian, and Hermione stood alone in the middle of the corridor as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. 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.

Arcturus glared at him with fire in his grey eyes, and Malfoy suddenly remembered what Arcturus did to him when he said mudblood in front of him, so he fearfully went back and pretended that he never said anything.