Certain Dark Things || Book Two

xxxvii. burning day

The boy was named Justin Finch-Fletchley, and when Snape rolled him to his back, exposing his face, Harriet knew he was Petrified before the wizard could say a word.

She couldn't look away from him, even as she shook, still sitting on the cold floor with a sluggish trickle of blood dripping from her knee into her rumpled sock. Harriet could have been the one attacked—Harriet or Hermione or Elara, or any of the few students meandering about the library, since that was where Justin must have come from. She couldn't understand how it had happened, and so quickly. It could have been me.

When McGonagall came upon them, she spotted Justin and gave a muffled shout—and then shouted again when she spied Harriet and the agitated serpent wriggling about her neck. "Miss Potter—!"

"Minerva, take Potter to the Headmaster," Snape said, using his wand to levitate Justin into the air. The Potions Master looked ghastly in the dim light, pale with shock, right hand twitching. There was sweat on his brow.

"What?! Severus, there is a snake—!"

"Now is not the time or the place, woman! Quickly, before Slytherin comes strutting by, get her away from here!"

McGonagall didn't appreciate being ordered about, but she urged Harriet to her feet, staying as far from the hissing snake as was possible in the hall's confines. Snape's mention of Slytherin spurred Harriet onward, though she did so in a daze, the image of Nearly Headless Nick and Finch-Fletchley burned in her mind. What in the world could Petrify someone who was already dead? And the writing on the wall—! Was that another threat against Professor Slytherin?

Livius continued to spit and threaten the invisible voice, and Harriet would've been very flattered at his chivalry if the snake didn't threaten to bite and eat anyone and everything for every minor inconvenience he incurred. "Shut up, Livi," Harriet whispered as she tried to wrestle him back into her shirt, but the others had been right when they said he was getting too large, and she had barely grown at all. Professor McGonagall continued to goggle at her, stunned into silence.

"He's my familiar, Professor," Harriet explained.

"Your familiar?"

"Yeah—I mean, yes, ma'am." She succeeded in calming Livi enough for him to go invisible once more, earning a startled huff from the Transfiguration professor. "The Headmaster and Professor Snape know about him."

"Oh, I'm sure they do, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said, her brogue thick and agitated, and she uttered something else in an undertone, but Harriet didn't quite hear it.

They hurried on, Harriet struggling to keep pace with her shorter legs and her knee stinging terribly by the time they reached the seventh floor and the entrance to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall gave the password— "Gobbling gumdrops," —and then shooed Harriet up the spiraling steps without her. "Stay in the office, Harriet, until Professor Dumbledore finds you," the witch instructed, disappearing before Harriet could ask anything else. She realized the professor had called her by name, and though the thought warmed Harriet and told her Professor McGonagall didn't believe she'd attacked Justin, little could displace the sudden chill sitting in her middle.

The office hadn't changed a bit since she'd seen it at Hallowe'en, the door to the closet where Quirrell met his end still sealed tight, the mullioned windows giving a glimpse of the sunset's final vestiges smeared on the horizon like a bloody fingerprint. Most of the headmasters and headmistresses snoozed in their frames, but a few watched curiously as the young witch came edging in the room, uncertain of herself.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harriet said aloud—but no, Professor McGonagall mentioned the Headmaster would come to find her, probably after checking on Finch-Fletchley and Nick. Sighing, Harriet went to one of the comfortable winged chairs by the hearth and sank into it, glancing at the smoldering bits of ash and wood settling in the grate.