Capítulo 36: Year Two - Chapter Eleven
I could hear the metaphorical clock tick. I could hear it, and thus there was little doubt that eventually it would strike the midnight doom scenario. My eyes zeroed on the calendar more often than not, my fingers twitched, my ears strained for the strangest of sounds. Any bathroom could be a deadly trap filled with yellowish eyes. Behind any corner could a giant snake lurk. No, for the sake of my sanity, I had to keep my cool.
There would be no deaths this year at Hogwarts. I needed to practice and get the best springy legs possible, not bother with Gilderoy's lessons and absolutely not risking professor Snape's wrath. Then again, it was hard to. As long as Neville didn't make anything explode and silently ate his loss of points for, perhaps, breathing a bit too loudly, then he was fine in handing points over to the Ravenclaw House.
The end result was that as October's Halloween fest rolled around, I had the inkling that something would go terribly wrong. It was just a sixth sense; it was nothing pretentious. It wasn't like something could go wrong. I hadn't altered the rails so much that something would, thus...
"There aren't any more Nargles in my room," the blond, half-asleep Luna Lovegood said, gingerly looking up at me. I looked down and gave her a grin, before most happily patting her head.
"Good to hear," I said nonchalantly. "If they do come back, just ask, and I'll deal with them again. It's my job as official Nargle-Exterminator," I quipped, and then looked around at the festivities in the Hogwarts' Main Hall. Everyone was here, except for the trio. They had something to go to, and if things went as I suspected they would, then Mrs Norris would soon become a beautiful cat-statue.
Luna glanced up as I chewed on a piece of pumpkin pie. I had already reached the dessert while the others were still at the end of their first meal. Their slowness made them mediocre in the battle for food. The juiciest picks belonged to those who struck first, struck fast, and struck hard.
The feast over with, we walked our way back to our tower in neat, ordained lines of happily fed Ravenclaws. A crowd blocked our passage by the second floor, the professors already there and trying to get the students to move on. I passed by the message written on the wall, and the watery puddle on the ground. The petrified form of Mrs. Norris had already been taken off, but the message remained.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir...beware. The fact even the three periods had been written was ludicrous, in my humble mind, but apparently Tom Riddle really wanted to make it clear. He could have written the Beware a bit bigger below the rest of the sentence for an added oomph-factor, but then again, it wasn't like Voldemort had actual style in the way he did things.
"What do you think that means?" Amanda whispered, "The Chamber of Secrets...looks interesting, doesn't it?"
"With Harry Potter in our school, when is a year not interesting?" I retorted, much to Amanda's puzzled frown.
"I didn't take you for a Potter fan, Shade," Amanda said. "You've got this look of disgust on you whenever you look in his direction..."
I blinked. "Disgust?" I muttered. "I do not have a look of disgust when I look at him," only of potential wasted, I reckoned. Then again, it was the kind of look I gave to half the children around me. It wasn't their fault, and I wouldn't make it one. It wasn't disgust as much as annoyance too. It was a really watered-down annoyance too. They were children. It wasn't like I had practiced furiously my Calculus skill while in first grade; there would have been no point in it back then.
"Then if that's your normal face, you're kind of a sour candy, right?" Amanda said next, giggling at that and playfully punching my shoulder. Hard. Quite hard. It was still tender, my bone. I hissed at that. "Don't be such a pansy, it's just ribbing."
"Bone had to regrow after an accident with a bludger," I grumbled. "Darn thing wouldn't take no, please, don't break my bones, for an answer." I shuddered briefly. "Always be careful when facing bludgers. They do not understand pity, or mercy."
Amanda's fingers grabbed hold of my sleeve, her eyes glittering with sudden and vivid interest. "You have a bludger?"
"No," I said swiftly. "I found it roaming in the wilds of the Forbidden Forest, a wild, savage thing," I continued building on my lie. "The damn thing had to be pulverized into minuscule fragments to prevent it from seeking new, young flesh."
Amanda pouted. "Damn."
The riddling door remained open from the first Ravenclaw to step through, and thus we just walked right in our common hall, where the Prefects had seemingly gathered all of the House. It was a bit cramped, but we found a corner near the wall.
"Everyone here? Everyone safe? Good!" one of the prefects spoke. "Now, listen up!" he clapped his hands, silencing everyone. "This may just be a prank, a bad one, but still one. However this doesn't mean you get to ignore it. If someone knows something about it, then they should speak with Professor Flitwick as soon as possible."
A few hands raised. "What's the Chamber of Secrets?" someone asked. "What did the message mean with the Heir?" another asked. In a matter of minutes, questions and answers were traded, some wildly far fetched, and others surprisingly on point about a monster lurking in the chamber and seeking to kill all Muggleborns for the glory of Blood Purity.
That night, I couldn't get a wink of sleep.
"Was it opened before, this chamber thing?" I asked offhandedly to Professor McGonagall during our regular tea, scone and transfiguration mishaps private time. The old Scottish woman's lips thinned, and then she grimaced.
"It did happen once, yes," she acquiesced. "Before I came to teach at Hogwarts," she added. "It was quite the scandal." She took a sip of her tea, and I did the same with mine. "But this is probably a cruel, callous prank."
"Mrs Norris was petrified," I said softly. "If it were a spell, it could be countered, couldn't it?"
"Dark curses are seldom easy to counter," Minerva answered. "Some things, like transfiguration accidents, are seldom without permanent consequences if done wrongly." She eyed me with a half-accusing stare, and I simply felt my ears burn from the shame at being called off.
"Pronunciation is hard," I muttered, "I'm practicing on it," I added. "Next time, I won't kill anything."
"I would hope so," professor McGonagall sighed. I took a bite out of the scone. "What about this year's Christmas gifts, Mister Umbrus?"
I grinned. "I did mugs last time, so this year I was thinking about ear-muffs and hats, but to keep it a surprise, I've been practicing the permanent charm," I smiled. "That way, it can be a surprise for you too, professor."
Minerva took another sip, and then her lips spread ever so slightly into the hint of a smile. "I see, well then, I will suggest you read certain books on Transfiguration to ensure the permanent charm actually works as intended, Mister Umbrus. It would be a shame to see a gift turn into a rock by year's end, wouldn't you agree?"
I nodded. With the titles written on a parchment, I knew what extra work I'd put myself up for.
What I hadn't expected was to find myself staring at Professor Binns' form during History of Magic, and wondering when the ghost had gone off the deep end.
He didn't just give us homework.
He gave us the most annoying, boring, out-of-body experience ever conceived.
I wanted the goblin revolts back. At least there were wars involved, and blood, and people dying and whatever.
The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards was as boring as watching paint dry.
They spoke of the correct length of wizards and witches' hat for one whole week, after all.
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