The stone gargoyle leapt aside with a groan, revealing the spiral staircase behind it. Harry stepped onto the moving steps, hands tucked inside his sleeves. His stomach curled with nervousness. He wasn't summoned here before, and never alone with the Headmaster.
By the time he reached the top, the door opened before he could knock.
"Come in, Harry." came the soft, familiar voice.
The Headmaster's office was as strange and grand as Harry remembered. Tall shelves of books and peculiar silver instruments whirred and clicked on every surface. Fawkes the phoenix watched him from his perch, flame-gold feathers glinting in the dim light.
"Please, take a seat."
Harry did, perching stiffly on the edge of a cushioned chair. Dumbledore regarded him over his half-moon glasses, hands steepled.
"I trust your second year has begun well?" Dumbledore asked, his voice kind, but something behind his eyes unreadable.
"Yes, sir. It's been good. Better, really."
"I'm glad to hear it." the Headmaster said, then paused, as though choosing his next words carefully. "Harry, I wanted to ask about your summer. I understand your living arrangements changed unexpectedly."
Harry blinked. "Well... yes, how did you know?"
Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "I received word of the... situation at your relatives' home. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I understand that Miss Volant housed you."
Harry looked down at his shoes. "Don't worry, sir. It was a nice summer for once."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. After a moment, he continued, "You stayed with Mr. Thorne all summer?"
"Yes, it was his house after all, it was nice of him to take me in." Harry said.
"I understand he is Lynne's Guardian." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "That was a nice gesture, what do you think of him?"
He hesitated. "He was... nice at first, but he became quite tired later, so for most of my first weeks there I didn't really see him. He is quite strict with Lynne, but he wasn't bad to me. Actually, he gifted me a new broom for my birthday!"
There was a long pause. The faint ticking of a brass contraption on Dumbledore's desk filled the silence while Fawkes ruffled his feathers.
"Did he ever speak to you about your... legacy? Your place in the magical world?" Dumbledore asked lightly, almost casually.
Harry frowned. "No, not really. We talked about some of the magical families once, but other than that it was just about hobbies and what I liked doing in general. I mostly spent my summer studying books and practicing spells with Lynne. And also flying of course, they have a nice place to move around."
"Indeed..." Dumbledore murmured, leaning back in his chair. "So he never mentioned anything else? Did you know we knew each other?"
"No." Harry's answer quickly. "Were you friends with him?"
"Hmm, we were more like acquaintances. We disagreed on some topics here and there which led us to drift apart."
The sound wasn't judgmental, but it made Harry shift uncomfortably. He felt like he was being examined.
"Sir... Do you not trust him?"
Dumbledore smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I am cautious, Harry. You understand that your disappearance caused a lot of people to worry, you are the wizarding world savior after all. I'm sure you know, but there are people who still resent you for the Dark Lord's fall, the events at the beginning of the year are proof enough of that."
Harry didn't know what to say to that. Vernon and Petunia had been quite happy with the arrangement and that he was gone for the summer, so he really didn't think he had done something wrong, he wasn't aware people who didn't know him would really care for him.
He thought of Lynne, and how Thorne had looked at her, having never had a sense of family, he didn't think Thorne was doing a bad job. But also it felt a bit distant and not the familial love he saw in a few movies. Maybe those ones were just fantasy in the end. It had made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't explain why.
"I'm sorry for worrying other people, Professor." he said.
"Did you feel safe with Miss Volant and Mister Thorne?" Dumbledore asked.
"I never felt unsafe. And I think he cares about Lynne enough to house me as a friend of hers." Harry said quietly. "In his own way, he treated me way better than my own relatives, sir."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. I was not aware your relatives were mistreating you." Dumbledore's eyes drifted toward the window. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Harry. I wanted to hear your thoughts before drawing any conclusions, but I'm glad you were safe, my boy."
There was something in his tone Harry didn't like but before he could ask more, Dumbledore stood.
"You may return to your common room now."
Harry stood too, the chair creaking softly under him. He lingered near the exit thoughtfully.
"Professor?"
"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.
"Do you think I can go back next summer?"
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment. "I think that even when people mean well, they can make the wrong choices. Do you not want to go back to the Dursleys, Harry?"
Harry nodded but didn't say more.
"In that case, I will see what I can do about it, my boy. There is still an entire year to sort it out." He said, smiling finally. "Off you go then."
As the door closed behind Harry, Dumbledore sat back down and whispered to the empty air:
"I must begin preparing. Sooner than I'd hoped."
The late morning sun spilled through the Ravenclaw Tower windows, painting the stone floors in long golden streaks. Harry was seated in the common room with Lynne, Luna and a small knot of first years, huddled together all around them.
They were casting frequent glances in Lynne's direction and oftenly an exchange of questions and answers followed. For Virgil, this looked like bees swarming a particularly cold queen, a strange one at that.
She didn't seem to be annoyed or upset about the arrangement, as she sat in her usual precise posture, scribbling on a sheet of parchment with her metal-capped fingers. The clicking soft sound against the wood could be heard among the chatter.
He paused on the final stair after coming down from his quarters and leaned against the banister watching the curious procession unfold. One of the first years, a boy with a shock of orange hair, passed her a scroll, which she corrected in a few strokes without speaking a word.
----000----
Harry Potter always sat next to her, chatting now with the second strange blond girl, who would often have an assortment of strange rocks and other objects around her. He looked happier than Virgil had ever seen him though, which was a good indication Harry enjoyed their presence.
He descended the last step and made his way over, stopping just short of their table.
"Our own Lady Volant, first of her name, queen of logic and first-year ducklings!" he announced in his driest voice, surprising even himself. Who knew he could still find his humour back. "It brings me joy to report that your ducklings here have become the best point scorers of our house."
Lynne didn't look up. "They are not ducklings."
He smiled amused. "Are you sure about that?"
Harry looked up, grinning. "It's true, they follow in formation and everything. I saw them doing a single file once."
Virgil placed a hand dramatically on his chest. "How the mighty have risen, just last year you were terrifying half the tower and growling at people who said mean things to you. Now look at you, Hogwart's most efficient babysitter for firsties."
That earned a blink from the blonde expressionless girl, which was practically a blush for her, he was sure.
"I just don't mind their presence and they seem to like someone who can answer their thousand questions and help them with school." she said coolly.
"It definitely saves the professor's time. But I imagine Flitwick will get jealous eventually that his own students are not coming to him for help." Virgil muttered.
He leaned forward and lowered his voice just enough to slip under the laughter of the younger students. "It's good, Lynne. I like this version of you, better."
She didn't reply but she did stop writing for a moment, her hand hovering above the parchment like she wasn't sure what came next. Virgil turned towards Harry now.
"You are handling all this fame thing disturbingly well, I thought you would be complaining already. Last year you said you didn't like the attention if I remember well."
Harry laughed. "They are harmless and they mean well so it's fine."
"I also heard a rumour that you two are dating, is that true?" he said nonchalantly, although he knew that was impossible. Lynne was just not capable of showing that much emotion for someone else for sure.
Harry flushed and his cheeks turned crimson. "It's nothing like that!" he said quickly.
"Mmm, if you say so." Virgil's eyes flicked to Lynne again, but she paid no mind to the comment, which brought his thoughts on her emotional change since the year started.
To be fair, it wasn't the first time he'd noticed the change. At the end of last year, she listened more, paid more attention and her edges had soft spots peeking through the armor. She was way more expressive and after what happened, she was spooked and afraid, reasonably so, her feelings plastered on her face.
But now all of that is gone. Lynne was back to being quiet, cold, clinical and efficient to a fault. She didn't smile as much anymore, didn't flinch. She moved through the castle like a clockwork statue, and most of the older students never forgot what she did, so that was still frightening for them as she passed them by.
The change had come from nowhere to him. It was as if she was back the way she started first year. Except this time, instead of putting 3 Ravenclaw older students into the hospital wing, she had a flock of first years following her around and looking at her like she was their savior.
He wondered what changed in the summer to take her back to being like this. Still, it could be worse, he thought as she saw the way she handed books to the tiny Ravenclaw girl beside her without being asked.
"You are thinking too much." Lynne said without looking at him.
Virgil flinched, surprised. "And you are watching me while pretending not to."
"I am always watching, Virgil."
"Scary thought." he muttered. But he didn't actually mind, he focused on the fact that she wasn't back to calling him by his surname, so clearly she wasn't fully back to her first year self.
He leaned on the table with both elbows, nodding towards the growing pile of scrolls beside her. "You were actually grading their homework now?"
"They asked for feedback so I said I didn't mind."
"They are abusing you at this point. No wonder they are not afraid of you. Either that or their survival instincts were not developed for them yet."
"Hey--" One firstie said in the background and he noticed that everyone was listening in.
Lynne tilted her head. "I already finished my own homework, so I really don't think it's a bad thing."
"I think it's brilliant. We are definitely winning the house cup this year with the amount of points they will get us, leaving the school winning would be my highlight of the year." Virgil said.
She looked amused for a second then her expression turned blanked again.
"It's good for them, they've got someone scary on their side, right?" He softened his voice, letting sincerity edge in. "I also think it's good for you, you don't look so cold all the time."
"I'm not- "
"You are scary sometimes, Lynne. Not a bad thing, I guess, part of you, but I did like it when you smiled more."
For the first time, her expression faltered, just a flicker of uncertainty maybe, or gratitude. He straightened up and adjusted his robes.
"Well, my work here is done, if you decide to lead your ducklings on a march through the Forbidden Forest, give me a heads-up so I can watch the professors panic."
As he turned, he saw all of the first years paled at the thought. He caught Harry's amused glance and gave him a small wink.
"Remember, Harry… You need to keep her pointed in the right direction, otherwise who knows what will happen to the firsties."
"I'll try." Harry replied, grinning.
"I want to explore the forest, Lynne will scare the creatures around her, she is the scarecrow afterall." the blonde girl beside Harry said.
He didn't know what to make of that, but the nickname was funny. Virgil left the common room with a smirk on his lips and something warmer resting in his chest. Maybe this last year wouldn't be so bad after all.
----000----
The end of September brought cooler mornings and the first golden leaves tumbling across the castle grounds. From the windows of the Astronomy Tower, Harry could spot students wearing heavier robes and scarves in house colors and, more importantly, the glint of brooms zigzagging over the Quidditch Pitch.
It reminded Harry that tryouts were coming soon. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Every empty corridor became a runway in his imagination. Every gust of wind felt like a beckoning hand. He had been longing to fly on his broom again.
Breakfast passed in a blur and he barely tasted the toast he was chewing. Even Lynne noticed, pausing with her usual cup of untouched tea to raise an eyebrow.
"You're excited I presume." she said simply.
"I am! How can you not?" he protested, he could even feel his leg bouncing under the table.
"Quidditch season starts in November. Ravenclaw tryouts are this weekend." he added, voice dropping just in case any upper-year hopefuls were nearby. "Jeremy said they're opening a spot in every role minimum."
Lynne didn't say anything, but he swore he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
"I've never actually played before." he continued, fingers tracing the edge of his goblet. "I mean, flying lessons were fun, but this is different. And I will be competing first against Ravenclaw players for a spot."
"You'll do well. "
He blinked. "You think so?"
"Of course, we practiced after all. I'm sure you know most of the moves you need, and your broom is superior to anything most students own."
Harry tried to hide his grin behind his goblet. It didn't work.
"I'm glad you think so." he muttered, the compliment made his chest warm. She nodded once, eyes scanning the table as though calculating the probability of victory across cutlery arrangements.
"We are trying out together, right?" he asked. "I mean, you're amazing on a broom, I'm sure you are not nervous but have you seen the other beaters?"
"I've registered for Beater, yes. I have analyzed their moves and strategies from last year's games." Lynne said calmly.
Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yes. I know I need to excel, it's the only role where excessive force is considered acceptable, so I won't get in trouble by aggressively protecting you."
"...Right," he said, trying to smile and not imagine her accidentally launching someone into the stands.
He didn't say it out loud, but it made him feel better knowing she'd be on the pitch too, even if they were flying different roles at the same time. Somehow, just having her there made things feel easier and confident in himself.
----000----
The rest of the week passed in a blur of classes, spell practice, first year group studying and stolen minutes where Harry imagined how he would look catching the Snitch. He could already picture it, one hand outstretched, wind tearing through his robes, the crowd roaring, people cheering from the ground...
"Mr. Potter!"
He blinked out of his daydream to see Professor Flitwick staring at him expectantly.
"I asked if you could demonstrate the charm again for the class."
"Er.. yes, sir!" Harry said, standing quickly and casting Finite Incantatem without issues to the delight of the small Professor.
After class, Lynne and Hermione caught up with him near the stairwell. "You should try to calm yourself, Harry." Hermione said without preamble. "You're overexcited."
"I'm not overexcited." he insisted. "I'm just… anxious."
"You've been nervous during breakfast, charms, lunch, and the entirety of Potions. I'm glad I was able to help, you almost blew your cauldron up."
"That's not my fault! Anthony dropped powdered toadstool into the cauldron next to mine—"
"Regardless."
He frowned but couldn't hold it long. "Are you going to come watch us tryout Hermione?"
"I didn't know I could, but sure."
"We will make you the honorably Ravenclaw." he said smugly.
She didn't answer, but her silence was amusing.
Saturday came quickly, that morning, the Quidditch pitch loomed in the distance like a coliseum awaiting its gladiators. Harry jogged alongside a crowd of hopefuls toward the field, Lynne silent at his side, her pale braid tied tighter than usual, metal fingers flexing at her sides.
Captain Jeremy Stretton was already waiting with his clipboard, barking names and calling for Seeker trials first. That meant Harry and Cho Chang along the current Ravenclaw Seeker.
He glanced at Lynne once more. She gave a single nod.
"Try not to overthink it, Harry." she said. "You fly better when you are just letting yourself go."
Harry took a deep breath, heart hammering, then he kicked off and the world disappeared behind wind and speed.
----000----
The Gryffindor common room was loud. It always was. Laughter bounced off the walls, feet thudded across the wooden floors, and someone was always shouting. Be it a game, a prank, or just to be heard over the rest.
Hermione sat alone on the farthest armchair, a book open in her lap and her bag clutched tight to her side. The pages blurred in front of her, not because the text was confusing, it really wasn't, but because the noise made it hard to concentrate. It wasn't the kind of noise she liked. It wasn't curious or clever or full of wonder.
It was careless, chaotic, and frankly annoying. Across the room, a group of younger Gryffindor boys were reenacting something from Flying Lessons, swinging imaginary bats and nearly knocking over the tea table. One of them shouted something about "sending a Bludger into a Slytherin face next time."
Hermione stared down at her book, it had a range of defensive spells and theory for second years. She had already read it once, and she was now three chapters ahead already from the class so it didn't matter. She closed it anyway.
"I should've begged the hat to be placed in Ravenclaw."
The thought came more and more often these days. At first, she'd ignored it. Then she told herself Gryffindor had its merits, not only in traits like bravery, daring or chivalry but also because of the so many big names that had been part of the house.
The greatest wizard of the current era, Albus Dumbledore was a Gryffindor. But none of that felt very real in her common room. It felt like a storybook ideal that none of the students lived up to.
Except maybe Neville. He was a bit awkward that boy. She smiled faintly at the memory of him helping her gather fallen scrolls in Charms. He was sweet at least, the only Gryffindor who didn't speak over her in class.
But most days, she drifted toward the Ravenclaws. They listened and took classes seriously. There was fierce competition among themselves which drove them to better themselves. They challenged her ideas, not her voice, and she also felt that for the group she was a part of, they respected magic and learning.
When she sat in the library now, she sat near the table where Harry and Lynne often studied but more often than not, she was talking with the first year group that would go to her for help at times.
She liked listening to them, advising them and having fun with the strange but respectful students. The way they asked questions earnestly and relentlessly, eager to learn. She liked the way Lynne answered, precise, patient, and strange in a way Hermione found oddly admirable. Sometimes Lynne would not answer immediately but the next time they met she had an answer for them.
Hermione hadn't missed it. The younger Ravenclaws had started following Lynne like ducklings, clinging to her presence in the hallways and asking her everything from spell diagrams to where to sit at lunch. It was strange that they had discovered that she was quite approachable that way. But somehow they did.
Lynne never mocked people for not knowing something and she never mocked anyone for knowing too much and Hermione wanted that. Just once, a place where she didn't have to shut up and pretend not to know to be spoken to like a human being.
She stood up, clutching her book against her chest, and made her way out of the common room. The portrait swung open with a reluctant creak, and she stepped into the cool corridor. She didn't know where she was going at first. Only that she needed silence.
Her feet obviously knew the way though and fifteen minutes later, she pushed through the doors of the library, taking in the warm hush that greeted her like a long-lost friend. The librarian nodded once as she passed. The group had somehow grown warm on the cold and snappy librarian, and thanks to them continuously meeting together, she had arranged for a bigger table to be placed.
Harry looked up from his parchment as she approached and waved at her with a smile, then quickly looked down again, while Lynne didn't look up at all. But she moved one of the books aside to make space. The group of first years were busy bickering softly among themselves and Luna seemed to be in her own world staring at the ceiling.
Hermione sat beside her and she greeted her softly. " Hello, Hermione ."
"Hi, Lyn." Hermione took a new book she wanted to read on runes. It was third year material but she found it interesting at first glance.
After a few minutes, Harry leaned over slightly. "Oh you are studying runes too?"
She blinked. "You're doing Runes already?"
He nodded, cheeks slightly pink. "Lynne's teaching me early. Said it might help if we need to make warding seals."
"Oh." She paused. "We can learn together then."
Lynne finally looked up. Her eyes were unreadable as always, but her voice was calm. "Before that… your posture is poor, Hermione. You will hurt yourself if you study sitting like that ."
Hermione sat straighter before she could stop herself.
"Better." Lynne said with a small smile, and went back to writing.
A tiny smile crept onto Hermione's lips, even though she looked fairly cold, she always ended up showing that she cared here and there. These were friends and people she wanted to be with. That brought her back to her own thoughts, the hat had made a mistake with her for sure.
----000----
The Quidditch pitch roared to life. Wind whipped across the field as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the trimmed grass. There were a few students in the stands, among them was Hermione, with a book on her hands already, but cheering him on. Harry could barely hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears.
"Potter, Chang. You're up! Time to beat is 10 minutes. We will repeat the exercise 3 times." shouted Jeremy Stretton, clipboard in hand.
"Your time, pace and how you do on each of them will determine who gets the position. I already know my seeker capabilities, but I don't know yours, so show me everything you got."
Harry tightened his grip on the handle of his broom. The nimbus hummed beneath his fingers like a living thing, sleek and fast. He glanced to the side and saw Cho Chang already in the air, stretching lightly, her expression calm but focused. He had to admit she looked well practiced, poised, her posture was flawless and he could see her determination on her face.
He accelerated and rocketed upward. For a moment, the noise below dropped away and all that remained was wind, he wanted to have a clear view of the field and obstacles. He assumed the snitch was spelled to follow around it and made a correct flight path in his mind.
The pitch fell beneath him as he rose into a high arc, circling above Cho, searching. He scanned the air for the shimmer of gold, small, fast, elusive. He knew its behavior now, as he studied the layout of the course. He didn't even realize he was smiling as he dove fast into the obstacles.
Air tore past him as the broom responded instantly, like it had read his thoughts. Cho saw the movement and veered in the same direction, gaining speed, but she was already half a beat behind.
The Snitch zigged left through a set of hoops and he followed. It looped and spiraled and so did he. It burst upward avoiding a wooden wall and he had to dodge to avoid going face first into it.
"Come on!"
He leaned forward, fingers stretching, everything else fading as snitch and student were fast pacing through. He finally was able to catch it, hitting one of the goal poles a bit in the process, but nothing that would leave more than a bruised arm. Cheers erupted from the stands as Hermione clapped for him.
"Nice, Harry! Brilliant!" she shouted.
He slowed and lifted his hand, the Snitch struggling in his fingers, wings buzzing furiously. When he looked down, Jeremy was already blowing his whistle and motioning him down.
They repeated the exercise two more times, and although Cho managed to get the snitch one of those times he was the clear winner on the last attempt, as she couldn't even find the snitch in the first place when Harry caught onto it.
As Harry descended, his heart still racing, he noticed something odd. Everyone was looking in the opposite direction and even his captain was not looking at him. Then, at the far end of the pitch, he heard it, a loud thunk, followed by a sharp, collective gasp from everyone present.
Jeremy waved again, this time more urgently. "Off your broom, Potter, tryouts are over."
He landed quickly and turned toward the source of the noise just in time to see two other Ravenclaw players flying erratically, trying to contain bludgers and motioning everyone to settle down.
On the ground lay an older student, and people were quick to surround him. And near the fallen boy, was Lynne, floating calmly just past them, bat still in hand and her expression unreadable as always. A broom laid forgotten in the grass a few paces away, and Harry concluded that a blunger had made a number on him.
"Hospital Wing!" someone shouted as they levitated the unconscious student. When he finally could see his face, he recognized Duncan Inglebee, a third-year. He had a bump on his forehead and his hand was twisted in a weird way.
Harry's eyes darted back to Lynne, who hadn't moved at all as she hovered close by. Jeremy stormed across the field, muttering curses under his breath. When he reached Lynne, he told her to come down, but he didn't yell at her, he just looked at her for a long moment before scribbling something on his clipboard.
He said something to her that he couldn't hear then walked back to Harry.
"Congratulations, Potter. You get the seeker spot."
Harry smiled at him and nodded. Jeremy didn't linger and proceeded to storm off, probably after Duncan. He was quite happy with his performance but he was still worried about Lynne. He approached her slowly.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes. I am now one of the beaters for the team, but I didn't want to hurt Mr. Inglebee." Her tone was flat, but he was sure he heard faint concern.
"Oh… that is what happened."
"Yes, the bludger struck him and he was knocked off his broom. We were supposed to keep them away from the target in the middle but also they hinted that we could throw them against other players as a competition."
There was no pride in her voice, and he was sure that was not how she intended the exercise to go. Harry nodded slowly, unsure of what to say, and although Lynne hadn't broken any rules, he felt bad for Duncan. Tryouts were intense and accidents could happen but it seemed to Harry that Lynne was more worried about something not going as planned than him being injured.
After a moment, she composed herself and looked at him, her gaze softened.
"Congratulations for winning the seeker position, Harry. I knew you could do it." she said.
He laughed, despite himself. "Thanks. You too. We are teammates now, let's do our best."
She gave him a nod and they stood in silence for a while, side by side, the pitch clearing around them. Students were leaving, whispering and gossiping. He briefly wondered when they were supposed to train, but with all the commotion he assumed that they forgot about it and would tell him later.
Harry looked at the Snitch still resting in his palm, then glanced at the bat in Lynne's hand. They had done it, but he felt the exhaustion on his bones now that the adrenaline was starting to fade.
----000----
Sir Nicholas, drifted proudly through the corridor nearest the Charms wing, robes billowing, neck drooping slightly to the left.
Death had its drawbacks, the temperature for one, the draftiness, the constant reminders of one's unfinished business, but it did afford one the opportunity to observe life's little dramas from a far more poetic distance.
And today, Sir Nicholas was most interested in the girl she kept seeing at night wondering about. Not in that way, of course. He was long past those sorts of attachments, and besides, the girl was still quite solid and not yet in marriage age for the current times. But she intrigued him.
She walked the halls of Hogwarts at night as if born from its stones, quiet, precise, with the eyes of someone who had seen far too much, far too early. Ghosts noticed such things. Pain was a scent they recognized, and somehow a small being like Lynne Volant wore it like perfume.
What fascinated Nick now, however, was happening during the day, what looked like a procession. Trailing behind her, always one or two steps behind, was a little flock of first-years.
Ravenclaws, mostly, and one timid Hufflepuff who seemed to have gotten lost joined them today. They didn't talk much to her, mostly among themselves. But when they did, they only ever asked questions. Miss Volant, in her strange, sharp way, always had answers.
Sir Nicholas glided lower through the corridor's arch, watching the scene unfold from above. Harry Potter was walking beside her today, as he often did, hair messy, bag bouncing on his shoulder. They were deep in conversation. Something about bludger trajectories and the ethics of broom interference. It looked adorable in his eyes.
With a delighted little twist, Sir Nicholas phased through the archway and descended just ahead of them, letting the air chill by five degrees. As expected, the first-years gasped and slowed, shuffling closer together. Harry, to his credit, only flinched. Lynne didn't even blink.
"Sir Nicholas." she greeted with a small nod.
"Ah, Miss Volant, Mr. Potter," the ghost said, bowing low, nearly losing his head entirely in the motion. "What a delightful coincidence."
"Were you waiting for us?" Harry asked, eyeing the nearly detached neck with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort.
"I never wait." said Nick, floating backward with a theatrical sweep of his arm. "I haunt. It's all in the presentation." Lynne said nothing, but she was clearly listening.
Nick leaned toward the first-years, who were now huddled behind Harry like a frightened school of fish. He gave them a ghostly smile. Several turned pale.
"I couldn't help but notice your ever-growing entourage, Miss Volant. It's rather impressive, dare I say. I haven't seen that kind of pull since the Bloody Baron tried to form a choir, although not many appreciated a group of Slytherins roaming about."
"I see. I can't sing, so we are not a choir, Nicholas." Lynne replied.
"A tragedy for the arts." Nick said, mournfully placing a hand over his chest.
Harry gave a small chuckle, clearly enjoying himself now that he realized this wasn't some sort of ghostly attack.
"I was actually looking for the two of you." Nick said, drifting upward a few inches to make himself grander. "You see, this year marks a very special occasion."
He paused and Neither Lynne nor Harry prompted him. Which was, in its own way, more satisfying than gasps.
"My 500th death-day."
Harry blinked. "Death-day?"
"Yes, yes, the anniversary of my demise," Nick said, making a slicing gesture near his neck. "Rather dramatic, rather painful, but quite memorable I should say. I'll be hosting a gathering in the lower dungeons, it's all been arranged. Cold refreshments, wailing violin, and the finest groaning table in centuries."
"You'd be my honored guests. It will be on the 31st of October. Bring a few friends if you like, I've also extended invitations to your entourage, all of these spirited Ravenclaw first-years. I do hope you'll all come."
Lynne thought about it for a moment, then looking at the entire group she answered. " Last year Halloween's feast was not that great. We'll be there ."
Harry accepted her answer with a curious glance. "Do we, um... bring gifts?"
Nick beamed. "Your presence is a gift enough to the dearly departed."
With a dramatic swirl of his cloak, he turned toward the ceiling and began ascending.
"Tell the living, Sir Nicholas remembers them!" he called, before slipping through the chandelier like fog.
Oh how he loved to make a dramatic exit.
----000----
The dungeon corridor was colder after the party. Harry walked with Lynne, Hermione, Luna, and two brave first-years trailing behind them, Evan and Meena, if he remembered right. Not every first year wanted to join them in the end. The ghostly music from Sir Nicholas's death-day celebration still echoed faintly in his ears, violins groaning like wind through bones.
"That was… weird." Evan whispered. "Cool. But weird."
"Especially the transparent cheese." Meena added.
"It was just emotionally withdrawn cheese." Luna said dreamily.
Harry laughed at her comment and was about to come up with a joke of his own when he heard the ominous voice again and stopped walking.
"Did you hear that?" he said, his voice low.
The group froze, and the corridor was empty ahead, torches flickering.
"It's a noise again." Lynne said, scanning the hall.
He heard a whisper, becoming louder, just at the edge of hearing, like steam under pressure. Then it rose again, closer and clearer.
Kill…
Harry's blood turned to ice.
Kill… rip… tear…
He staggered back a step, eyes wide. "There's something in the walls, and it wants to kill something!"
"I don't hear anything in the walls." Said Hermione.
It took Lynne a second to come into action but she did eventually seem to trust him.
"Go back to the Tower ." Lynne said sharply to the first years. "Now."
Luna nodded without hesitation and ushered the rest of the group behind her, already retreating. It took some time but eventually the rest followed, once the group of younger students was safely going in the opposite direction, Harry and Hermione turned to follow Lynne's lead, her wand was out. Harry was trying to listen to the voice again but it seemed to have gone ahead of them already. Then they rounded the corner and stopped cold.
Mr. Filch was kneeling on the floor, clutching the stiff, gray-furred body of Mrs. Norris. The cat's eyes were wide and glassy, her limbs unnaturally rigid. There seemed to be a group arriving with them as well, of professors and students, probably from the Great Hall.
Above the sobbing man, scrawled across the stone wall in jagged letters, was a single message in bright red:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Harry's breath caught. Filch stood up slowly, eyes wild. "I will kill whoever did this, you cowards!" he said, not giving room to any student to speak less the anger was directed at them. Professor Dumbledore started calming the man down, and pointing out that the cat was merely petrified, and there was a cure available once Mandrakes would grow mature.
Professor Snape interrogated the trio about their whereabouts since they hadn't come from the Great Hall and they had to explain the deathday party to the man. They had the advantage that they also had more witnesses with them if they asked them, the small group of first years could easily tell them all about the party as well.
"Do you know anything about the chamber of secrets?" asked Harry once they were ordered to return to their dormitories.
"No, but I will ask my mentor about it, he might know. "
Harry couldn't sleep much that night, the voice still stuck with him.