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Holly Evans and the Spiral Path

Chapter 7: People Go Bonkers



1st November, 1992



Dear Harry,

This Halloween has been a bit of a fun fair ride. Not as traumatic as compared to killing a troll last year, but eventful. So far, the only thing harmed was acat that I don't particularly like. I'm sure that this is just the start, though.

The evening started well enough. I was invited to attend a ghost celebration, which fit the mood of the day quite well. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffindor house ghost was celebrating the 500th anniversary of his death. The meal was laid out on a long buffet table, but all the food was spoiled, so that the ghosts might catch a scent of what food used to smell like. Essentially, it was the rotting carcass of a feast. Hermione and Ron initially tagged along as they didn't want to insult Sir Nicholas when he invited us, but they left quickly to avoid the stench and the disturbing sights of so many ghosts. A ghost will appear as their body did at the moment of death, and ghosts are usually the result of a violent end, so a gaggle of ghosts is not unlike a floating hospital entry, with various detached or mangled body parts being compared like tattoos at a motorbike rally. Sir Nicholas himself is ofttimes referred to as Nearly Headless Nick, as he died at the hands of an amateur (or poorly bribed) headsman that never quite made it through Sir Nicholas' neck with his axe. It's a sore point for the honoree, as the Headless Hunt won't allow him to join in their reindeer games, and yet came by to insist on teasing him about it. Even the dead have their arseholes.

I find Sir Nicholas' company truly enjoyable. Speaking with him and the other ghosts always reminds me that there is more, after we are done with this world. I am in no rush to see what's next, but knowing there's more makes walking this life...acceptable somehow. I don't mind the body parts either. I find them fascinating, much as I was fascinated by the spiders in my first bedroom. I would watch them spin their webs, catch and eat their prey, make egg sacs to house their young. When the eggs hatched, the mother spider would be eaten, if she had remained. It is a horrifying and remorseless world, the closer you look at it. I just want to understand how it all fits together. Perhaps I'll be a healer. As Hermione said, I don't flinch.



I was walking back from the party when I discovered a few unexpected things in the second floor hallway.

One: the floor was flooded over from the nearby girl's loo.

Two: Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, looked to be replaced by a taxidermist's first work, and was hanging like a pub board from a wall sconce

Three: Graffiti has made its way into the magical world.

As is my luck, I was reading the propaganda on the wall when Filch came looking for the source of the water. Of course, my reputation as a blood fiend and ne'er-do-well led everyone that came running to hear his screeching accusations to believe that I was the cause of this scene. My only saving grace was that Sir Nicholas came forward to act as my sworn alibi. He's a good ghost, and I'm not sure if he could lie if he wanted to. Thankfully that worked in my favor as Prof McG and Professor Snape took him at his word. The headmaster confirmed their take on matters and that the cat had been petrified and might be cured eventually, using the mandrakes we're caring for in Herbology once they come to maturity. Having the three most senior opinion-makers at Hogwarts proclaim my innocence helped discourage Filch's ire, but the rest of the school is treating me like a criminal. Some are convinced that I was responsible for the horror show, while others are more concerned with where I was before I found the scene. They don't understand why I would want to spend time with ghosts.

Magically-raised people probably wouldn't understand how much the question of whether there is a soul has plagued the rest of humanity. Literally millions of people have died because they couldn't agree about what happens when you die. Almost as if we can't move forward as a species until we can resolve this issue, so we keep rushing into it in hopes someone will make it back to tell the rest of us it's OK. I think I'll ask Hermione what she thinks about this.

All this musing aside, the graffiti is a sign of trouble. Someone wants to scare people, and has succeeded so far. The message said "The Chamber of Secrets is open. Enemies of the Heir beware!"



No wonder I can't find Hermione- she went right to the library.



Holly



*



4th November, 1992



Dear Harry,

Well, Hermione's digging revealed a few smatterings of information, and more was filled in when she prompted our History teacher Professor Binns to snap out of his ghostly repetitions and respond to questions. I have my own thoughts on what's happening, though.

The Chamber of Secrets is some sort of hidden room within the castle that was put in place by the founder of Slytherin House, Salazar Slytherin. Salazar...

Hang on.

If you go back and look at the entry where I had gotten my glasses, I mentioned that when I asked Prof McG and the headmaster where the money for my initial supplies came from "they mumbled something about a Saladbar Foundation for indigent muggleborns". This must have been quite the joke to them. Salazar(or perhaps Saladbar) Slytherin was historically known to hate muggleborns and didn't want them at the castle at all. I have to wonder if our headmaster and deputy headmaster were having me on, or if some other spiteful alumnus decided to actually create a foundation in the name of the one person who would never approve of its existence. It would be like if I created the Severus Trust for tutoring dim-witted potions students. Actually, that's an idea.

Back to history, or at least the popular version of it.

The general consensus is that Slytherin's heir is present in the castle, opening secret rooms no headmaster has yet found, releasing some horrible creature no one has seen, torturing mean cats and scrawling vague threats in unremovable blood.



It was Halloween. No one was harmed. Doesn't this just seem like a Weasley prank? (I forgot, I haven't explained any of their mischief yet other than Ginny's ill-chosen birthday gag. Trust me; this shoe fits, unlike her jumper.) So, as you might expect a mob of nice (thus dumb) people to act, these lemmings believe it must be my fault. Further evidence of the Weasley link can be seen in Fred and George's insistence that I be announced on the way to the Great Hall as 'the horrible petrifier of cats, drinker of troll blood, the bane of clean walls and dry floors everywhere'. I might be more irritated at them for this, but we do have a Quidditch match on the 7th, so this is working the nerves of the opposing Slytherin team just a bit more than turning them red and gold might. If it is a prank, I would be the last to call them on it. The chasers hate me enough as it is.



Holly



*



Transcription: 8th November, 1992 starting 1:46 AM GMT

Holly Evans (HE):Dear Harry; as I am stuck experiencing the joy of Skele-Gro rethreading calcium through my forearm like fiery acid, I am having the Quick-quotes Quill take dictation for me. I used Silencio on the curtains around my hospital bed to keep Healer Pomfrey from being bothered.

HE sips from glass of water.

HE: Stupidity is rampant, and I am no stranger to the spreading infection of it.

HE grunts in pain.

HE: At first, this was working to our advantage. Hermione had become frustrated with the severely limited information about the Chamber of Secrets, so she flattered Lockhart out of a pass to the restricted section of the library. While she didn't discover any new information about the chamber, her spelunking (which is Hermione's new favorite word) returned two resources of note: Moste Potente Potions, which I am itching to peruse and some runes reference that may help Hermione solve the cover of Perenelle's notebook. Hermione seems to be immune so far to the expanding circle of stupidity.

[pause]

I however, am not. My own dimness was played out during our Quidditch match. Ifound myself pursued by a very persistent and single-minded bludger that I just discovered was being controlled by Dobby. I then had three immediate stupid moments in a row: I let my desire to win the match override my wariness of Dobby's lethal missile, causing my arm to be broken; I let Lockhart close enough to use his wand; and I haven't killed him yet for making all the bones in my arm disappear.

HE sighs.

HE: A short bit ago, Dobby came to visit and confess his involvement in the bludger attack. I convinced him that if he didn't stop trying to save me soon, I would likely be dead by his efforts. Dobby did reveal that the Chamber exists, is now open and has been opened before. That's the other part of my stupidity. If I hadn't put Dobby out of my mind, I might have remembered his warning and not ascribed the attack to Fred and George. I might have even found him before he could put me in hospital. Hermione said I wasn't taking him or this situation seriously enough.

HE grunts in pain as she shifts position in bed.

HE: Why is he so easy to forget? There must be something about house-elves that makes a human mind throw away anything concerning the elf itself. Is this part of their enslavement? Were they captured, or is this a racial punishment for some long-forgotten crime?

[pause]

At least we won the match. I also plowed Draco Malfoy into the stands, the keeper posts and eventually the ground in my playing keep-away with Dobby's pet bludger. Poor Dobby.

[pause]

Hang on.

HE rereads transcription in her journal

HE: I just reread what I wrote and realised I had forgotten the little guy all over again. This elf-related memory leak is insidious!

HE pauses speaking to watch Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bring in a frozen boy holding a camera. [dialogue is out of Quill range due to Silencio effect]

HE: Ah right, stupidity. Well, our latest victim is being wheeled in by the head-master and -mistress. Creepy Colin Creevey, the paparazzi firstie who has been taking Ron's picture incessantly since beginning of term, has fallen victim to the petrifying effect. That puts us back onto the road to Hell. Hermione was right, this is serious. As soon as Healer Pomfrey releases me, Hermione and I have work to do. Nox.

Transcription ends



*



12th November, 1992



Dear Harry,

Time will tell whether I am recovered from my bout of stupidity, but my arm is fully healed. I am beginning to think that it isn't deadly waves of stupidness affecting everyone, so much as a collective trip to bonkersville. Everything that has happened is making people act out of character. The Slytherins are almost amiable, because they think the Heir of Slytherin is here to make their lives easier. The Hufflepuffs are reacting with unbelievable bouts of paranoia, the Ravenclaws are subject to unexpected outbreaks of hysteria, and the Gryffindors seem...timid. Despite our victory in our last match, Gryffindor pride and boastfulness is at an all time low. Professor Snape has been seen to almost smile at times, with how quiet his classroom has gotten.

Hermione is going a bit bonkers as well, but in a way I actually like.

Transcription: 11th November, 1992 starting 5:46 AM GMT

Hermione Granger (HG):Holly, you have to see this!

Holly Evans is returning to the dorm room from a shower, rubbing her hair dry with atowel.

Holly Evans (HE):(whispering) Hush, girl. You'll wake Par and Lav, and I've already seen enough of Hogwart's, A History. I'm going to wait for the film.

HG: (whispering) But you have to see this!

HE: Hop onto my bed and I'll seal the curtains

HG enters the canopy-covered bed and tucks her legs beneath her, holding open a copy of 'Hogwart's, A History' with activated Quill resting as a bookmark.

HE draws her wand from her dressing gown, hops onto the same bed and closes the curtains.

HE: Silencio. Did you want to record this conversation?

HG: Whatever. You can add it to your journal or not. Just read this!

HE pulls the book to her lap and reads through the page marked by Quill.

HE: From what I gather, you think that the Slytherin library might hold more answers for us.

HG: Absolutely! If you consider how smug the Slytherins have been of late, it seems obvious they know more than they are telling. I've looked through our Gryffindor library in the common room, and it mostly consists of stories of courage and bravery, with a decent sampling of history covering prominent Gryffindor families of the past centuries. I asked Percy Weasley about the top shelf books I saw when we first started last year. Percy said that I wasn't allowed to access them until 6th year without a prefect's permission, as they covered advanced lessons specific to enhancing courage, teaching, and leadership. He hinted there may be some helpful advanced Transfiguration texts as well.

HE: Hermione, have you even slept yet?

HG: No, this is too important. Anyhow, it stands to reason that if the Gryffindor library holds works appropriate to our values and background, the Slytherin library might also.

HE: I think I remember Parvati's sister Padma saying she had to turn in her pop quiz from Lockhart to the Ravenclaw records. It would make sense that they would retain every test or quiz ever given, to aid their studies.

HG: Hmmmmm....

[pause]

HE: The Slytherins, Hermione?

HG: Oh, right! Well, the reason I pulled Moste Potente Potions from the library is that it contains the formula for a special draught that can make someone appear as someone else. It's called Polyjuice potion.

HE: I'm not following you.

HG huffs impatiently.

HG: Well, if we were to get into the Slytherin common room using your cloak, we couldn't actually look through the books, could we? They would know something was wrong as floating books appeared and disappeared.

HE: Hang on. You deceived a professor to heist an advanced book of restricted potions so we can break into the Slytherin dorms to gain access to their restricted library. A plan you have been working on since before Creepy Creevey was petrified.

HG: Well, when you put it like that...

HE: Oh, I'm not opposed, I just can't figure why 'Hogwart's, A History' was necessary.

HG: Well, I needed proof there was a library. I wouldn't want you to risk all this just because I believe there's a library.

HE smiles widely.

HE: Don't take this the wrong way, Hermione, but I would trust your reasoning out of the library's existence long before I took the written mention of it as gospel.

HG looks down at the book in HE's lap, then looks up at HE and smiles.

Transcription ends



I promise I did nothing to her. This excursion towards the dark side is of Hermione's own devising. I did convince her that while the Polyjuice potion would be essential for using the Slytherin resources, we still needed to get into the room. As my part of this mission, I have been working on some things to help with that. First, I have gotten quite skillful with Silencio since I first found it. What's more, I've discovered that my invisibility cloak 'likes' being silenced- the effect seems to last much longer when cast upon it compared to applying Silencio to my bed curtains. Also, I am working with Hermione on adding some features to my goggles. I want to shade my eyes from sudden flashes, but also see better in the dark. Using Lumos to write late at night when I was stuck in hospital brought that desire to mind. Healer Pomfrey didn't appreciate my diligence, insisting that when the sun set I should be sleeping. If that were the case, I should think Hogwart's needs to be relocated more southerly, or should hold summer sessions. Night falls early in Scotland, especially as winter approaches.



Ah, bollocks! My stupidity hasn't left me yet. I was trying to learn the shrinking charm, so I can keep my broom readily at hand in case I need to make a quick escape.

Important safety tip #1: Always test new spells on something you don't mind losing. I foolishly chose my trunk, and used plenty of power to make sure it would shrink small.

Important safety tip #2: Never drink around your books. Drops of tea can make Reducio look like Reducto with very little effort.

My trunk is now a pile of splinters. At least the contents were unaffected. I could just cry.

Reducio. RED-OOO-SEE-OWE. Countered by Engorgio, the chaser's favorite charm.

Reducto. REE-DUCK-TOW. Countered by a shield charm or a trip to Hogsmeade I can't make or afford.



Holly



*



20th November, 1992



Dear Harry,

Hermione cracked the cover of Perenelle's notebook this evening. I am going to copy over the most interesting parts we've discovered so far. The reason I say 'discovered', is that the puzzle can be solved in several ways, each one more complex than the last. We've... well, Hermione has opened two sections so far. The first is historical background on the Statutes of Secrecy. The second section is a primer on the Memory Charm that Perenelle developed back in the 1600's.



Well that didn't work. I guess it's protected from copying. Not a bad thing, all around.

I'll summarise, then.

The Statutes of Secrecy were established in 1652, because it took that long to work out the wording. Magical culture had been operating under a tacit agreement since the 1400's that with the advent of the printing press, the sharing of information by muggles was going to make keeping magic a secret much more difficult. Magical culture had been keeping a low profile ever since the fall of Rome, when books and learning became synonymous with trouble. It was only with Perenelle's development of the Memory Charm that they could finally get together and resolve what they would allow non-magical folks to see. Centuries of maneuvering into positions as viziers and chancellors in order to control the possibility of organised persecution were wearing on them. The Ministry's existence started as an organisation purely designed to train, deploy and coordinate the efforts of these super spies to do the job of protecting wizardkind from muggle discovery. The politics came about as several powerful clans of magical descent argued about how much separation there should be, and what sort of corrections were allowed to be made. I think money was a factor as well.



Nobody sings Perenelle's praises for saving magical culture from annihilation. I get the sense that her already extended life was reducing how impressed everyone should have been by her accomplishments. She was already 250 years old and didn't look a day over forty. It also might have something to do with being a woman. The professionals in place took her inventions as the boon that they were, but men have ruled things for a while now, and the Clan Patriarchs weren't going to give her the credit. They wouldn't accept Nicholas as the source either. He was known for his insight but his memory was almost embarrassing, much like Albert Einstein. I have a feeling Nicholas was Perenelle's favorite test subject. Maybe that's why there was only one Philosopher's Stone.



About Obliviate:

The Memory Charm is known as such because it doesn't remove memories, so much as mask them from being seen. It isn't a hex as no actual damage is done (when performed properly). The natural tendency for most memories to fade when not refreshed causes the masked memory to go unnoticed until the charm is no longer needed. Particularly traumatic memories will last much longer in the psyche and their emotional effects can be felt, usually through nightmares and 'unusual pathologies', even if the Charm was applied with expertise and power.

Expert Obliviators are trained to mask the memory with the suggestion of an alternative experience, so that the subject is less likely to suspect something is amiss. The Obliviator need not describe the memory in detail, just suggest what 'actually' happened and allow the victim's own mind to creatively fill the necessary gaps.

When applying the spell, one must aim at the head, preferably with surprise as the initial attack may be resisted with something called Occlumency. Hermione says the root word there is 'occlude' or to obscure, which is funny since that's what the Obliviator is trying to do in the first place. "Hide my memory? Well I'll just hide my whole mind! So there, bleagh!" Assuming the initial attack is successful, the target enters a suggestive state, ready to rework their own mind at the attacker's direction. The biggest problem for Obliviators in training is to restrict the amount of memory being modified, as the more extensive the memory, the harder it is for the victim to work out a solution. Perenelle's example was an Obliviator who tried to erase a blacksmith's memory of his wife's magic use. So much of his work experience was based upon their cooperative use of the forge and her wand work that he ended up the village idiot. The village took care of him for decades, hoping his 'talent' for smithing would return to him. They should have just killed him and made it look like an accident. It might have been more merciful.



Perenelle hints at a way to remove the Charm after it has applied. Hermione is fairly convinced we'll find it in a later section.



Holly



*



12th December, 1992



Dear Harry,

Hermione is taking to this spy-crime thing really well, at least in intent. Her problem, I think, is that she relies too much on magic and doesn't always see the needs of a situation. I will explain.

Back before Hermione figured out how to open Perenelle's notebook, she had laid out her basic plan for plundering the Slytherin dorms' library. The morning after Hermione had explained her master plan, she started setting up her cauldron in the space between our beds. Around the point where she was explaining that the lacewings needed to simmer for three weeks I reminded her that we shared the dorm with two other girls, and they would at least ask what we were up to. When I returned to the dorm after dinner that night, she had moved the cauldron to the shower. I wouldn't have bothered looking except that simmering lacewings smell a bit like boiling lamb, which turns my stomach. Aunt Petunia could clear the house at the mere announcement that we were having a lamb roast that evening. It took me a while to track down Hermione's cauldron, as she had hid it behind some sort of illusory wall, making the shower room noticeably smaller and less rectangular.

Eventually I convinced her we should use Myrtle's room.

Moaning Myrtle is the ghost of a school girl that died at Hogwart's back in the 1930's. She spends her time thinking about death and harassing anyone who visits her lavatory, which is the same girl's loo on second floor that had flooded into the hallway on Halloween. That was her handiwork. Apparently when she has been neglected for a while, or gets worked up by unsympathetic visitors, she stops up the drains, opens all the taps and flushes the toilets. I guess she finds water comforting. Either that or she has a thing for Argus Filch, as he has to do the cleanup when she gets all fluidy. If she weren't a ghost I'd suspect her of petrifying his cat out of jealousy.

Hermione wasn't initially excited about this venue. Along with her discomfort around ghosts in general and Myrtle in particular, Hermione was concerned that this room was at the center of everything that seemed to be going wrong this year. Icountered that this was its primary selling point; no one wants to come here. Iwas further assured of the perfection of this location when Ron firmly stated he wasn't going to be able to help us this time.

"It's a girl's loo."

"Brilliant, Ron. I promise we won't turn you over to the sisterhood for entering one of our holy places, as your intentions are good."

"What are you working on anyway?"

"The less you know, the happier you'll be."

"Well, yeah! Why don't you get Ginny to help you?"

"Not bloody likely."

I forgive Hagrid for being gullible, but Ginny confessed my secrets to a packed room, and she did it to hurt me on purpose. I haven't figured out why, but my distrust of her doesn't require proof or explanation.



Hermione and I worked on the potion for a few weeks before circumstances brought her one step further to the Dark Side. Or adulthood. There was growth.

Transcription: 6th December, 1992 starting 7:16 PM GMT

Hermione Granger (HG):We need bicorn horn and boomslang skin. I can't mail order for them- their inclusion in this recipe is what makes them a restricted item for purchase. We need to get some from the Potions stores.

Holly Evans (HE):You want to burgle Professor Snape?

HG: It's not a matter of want, we can't get the ingredients outside of Knockturn Alley, and even then they would be prohibitively expensive.

HE: So, we're going to steal from Professor Snape?"

HG: I have an idea how we can get the materials. At the double potions lab period this Thursday, you can toss this root into the swelling solution, causing it to explode. The solution should end up covering plenty of the students. In the resulting chaos, I'll slip into his lab and grab what we need.

HE: So, you're going to steal from...

HG: Why are you making such a big thing of this?

HE: Because you thought of it first. Ever since I slapped you, I swear you're thinking has improved, but your ethics have been shelved.

HG looks down, then back at HE.

HG: It was quite the wake-up call. Perhaps distrusting teachers comes naturally to you, but until I saw Lockhart for the fraud he is, I have always believed that teachers and leaders have our best interests in mind. Even Professor Snape, cruel as he is, has a point. Most of those he berates have treated his classroom or his subject disrespectfully, by not studying the materials and respecting lab discipline.

HE smiles widely

HE: Exactly.

HG gives HE a petulant look.

HG: Alright, your point is made. So...what do you think of my plan?

HE: That? Oh that's ahorrible plan.

HG: What?!

HE: If we want to draw the attention of everyone in the classroom, probably the whole school and most particularly the Oily Bat, we can do damage to his classroom in a premeditated manner. I wouldn't try to predict how an exploding potion will land amidst a classroom full of targets including ourselves. Even if you weren't the only student untouched by the effect, your guilty conscience might give you away before you even left the storeroom.

HG: I suppose you have a better idea?

HE: I'll get a detention. I can nick our ingredients while cleaning the shelves. It would be best if we include some replacement stuff transfigured from twigs and bark- most likely he won't discover the problem for months, and then he'll just think the sample went bad.

HG: How will you ensure you're given a detention?

HE: I think I'll pick a fight.

HG: Won't that ruin your carefully arranged ceasefire?

HE smiles.

HE: It's a sacrifice I am willing to make.

Transcription ends.



The next class, I had some of the best exercise I've gotten since coming to school.

I went in with an idea of who I would target and how I would get the fight started. Pansy Parkinson helped things along by being herself. Since the announcement that both she and Draco Malfoy would be staying at Hogwart's over holidays, Pansy has been spending every public moment wrapped around Draco's arm or laughing at his snide remarks. Draco is a bit overcome, it seems. He still presents himself in his perfectly-pressed, eternally starched aspect that leads me to believe that his personal magical power is focused into being ready for a Witch Weekly photo shoot. Despite that, Pansy seems to be making Draco uncomfortable enough to look disheveled. Pansy has noticed her advances aren't being entirely appreciated, so she'd been pouring on the charm for the first hour of potions. It probably didn't help her confidence that I kept looking at her with pity, casting an infrequent longing look at Draco anytime I thought she might catch me. Pansy was well primed when I walked up behind her as she retrieved the second set of components for this potion. My whisper that suggested Draco was dealing with her only because she was easy set her off.

Pansy spun around and launched herself at me, her sharpened fingernails clutching towards my face to attack my eyes. I fell backwards to allow both of us to fall to the floor. Pansy screeched and growled with frustration as she vainly attempted to pull off my goggles. One of Hermione's latest improvements to their design was an automatic sticking charm applied under the rims. It actually makes them more comfortable to wear, and one only needs to put their thumb under the right lens and think 'release' to get the sticking to unstick. Not that Pansy knew that.

After allowing the Slytherin a half-minute to attack me without reprisal, I decided it was time to move things along. Here's a quick tip for brawling- a forceful knee between your opponent's legs is effective on girls as well. In this case, it knocked Pansy forward to crack her head against a nearby desk. I used her momentary bafflement to switch positions. Once I had her beneath me, I wrapped my right leg around the outside of her left thigh, and then hooked my ankle over her right leg. At the same time I pinned her right arm under her body and pulled her left arm over her head, holding her wrist against the stone floor and twisting her torso so she couldn't get any leverage. Once properly pretzeled, I realised my right arm was free to operate and proceeded to hammer my fist into her face repeatedly. Don't worry- I didn't use any magic in my fist. I was just trying to provoke a punishment, not kill the girl. Around the eighth time my fist cracked against her cheek a spell shot from behind me forcefully separated us. I flew back to crash against the base of another work table. As I refocused my vision to my new location, I could see Professor Snape approaching quickly with his wand pointed at me. I sat up but didn't move to rise.

"I'd like to point out that she jumped me." I said calmly while lightly touching my split lip.

The furious man barely held in his ire as he barked out orders. "Mr. Malfoy, you and Miss Bulstrode take Miss Parkinson to see the Healer. Everyone else, OUT!" His next words dripped from his mouth like honey in a tone that made everyone who hadn't yet escaped the classroom shiver in dread. "Miss Evaaaannnsss, you will stay right where you are."

As he turned away I slipped the hairs I pulled from Pansy's head into a pocket of my robes.



My efforts were fruitful as I was compelled to serve detention with Snape every night for the rest of term and to clear snow at Filch's whim through the holidays.



Hermione came down to the potions lab to pick me up after my second night's labor for Snape. She fussed over how raw my hands had gotten using the cleansing reagents Snape supplied for my beaker sanitising task.

"It's no big deal, Hermione. I have the perfect soak for this in the healing salves book Harry gave me. I even nicked the necessaries from Snape's stores as I grabbed our bounty."

"Still, it looks simply awful and I can't imagine it feels any better."

"It's alright, really. Now don't fuss and come with me."

"What? Why? Where are we going?"

"Do you call that 'not fussing'? We're going to find the Slytherin dorms and listen in to what their password might be."

Hermione and I ducked into an empty alcove and after applying to the cloak her enhanced Silencio (it allows sound into the cloak while keeping our noises from escaping) we snuck quietly and invisibly back down the corridor and to where the Slytherins disappeared each night after dinner. After a while, we found some 4th years returning from the library and carefully followed them down into the dungeons. Once there, we were unexpectedly... outfoxed. It seems the Slytherins don't use a password. Each student would walk the length of a rather grim painting of a fox hunt where the fox was played by a desperate-looking boy wearing only a loincloth and a fox-head shaped helmet. The student would walk to the end of the tapestry and then turn and walk towards the opposite wall, place his hand against a particular square brick, and a hidden door would open. Even when they were travelling in pairs or trios, each student would place their hand on the space before entering the opening. Hermione and I retreated to our dorm to consider our options.



Transcription: 11th December, 1992 starting 10:04 PM GMT

Hermione Granger (HG): Well, that was depressing.

Holly Evans (HE): It is a setback, but I'm not sure we're completely undone. They have to have away to let visitors in, and we don't know what actually happens if someone unrecognised is allowed to pass through the door.

HG: How do you propose we find out?

HE: Well, that's easy. I'll stake out the doorway at night. Eventually, a dim bulb like Crabbe will forget to follow their security protocol, and I can see what their defense entails. It can't be too horrible, as the Slytherins aren't prone to sudden injuries or hexes without the Weasleys taking part. I can also keep a watch for any visitor arrangements.

HG: Perhaps it isn't that sophisticated in its detection. The door may simply check the entrant visually, which means the Polyjuice...

HE: No, no, didn't you hear? Each person was recognised by name and year.

HG: What do you mean hear? I didn't hear anything.

HE: You didn't hear it? I quite plainly heard each person's name whispered back to them from the stone they touched.

HG: I heard a hissing, not unlike the doors on Star Trek, though more like the ones in the Original Series and less like in the Next...

HE: Never mind that, why would I hear something that you couldn't?

HG: This reminds me of when you were hearing things back on Halloween.

Transcription halted

I have a confession. I didn't mention why I was in the second floor hallway when I discovered the petrified cat. I had left Sir Nicholas' bash and was heading back to my dorm when I heard a sound like whispering, travelling down the hallway. I followed it for a while but had to backtrack and find some stairs as the voice moved upwards to the second floor. By the time I caught up to where the voice had been headed, I was staring at a cat-sicle. The voice had been whispering about wanting to kill and to feed, not necessarily in that order. When I mentioned it to Hermione, she rightly suggested that disembodied voices weren't meant to be discussed, even amongst the magical.



Isn't this pause feature cool?

Transcription resumed

HE: Well maybe I wasn't just hearing things. Maybe I was hearing a creature moving through the castle, one that speaks in the same tongue that the door uses.

HG: You're a Parselmouth!

HE: What did you call me?

HG: Have you ever seen a snake?

HE: Well, yeah, once. I went to the zoo with Dudley and Piers Polkiss...Oh! Oh! I spoke to a Brasilian Boa right about the time I trapped Dudders behind the glass!

[pause]

What's with the look?

HG: It's like I said after Halloween, only worse maybe. Magical people hearing voices may be bad, but speaking to snakes is very bad. Parselmouths are associated directly with the Dark Arts, and it was one of Salazar Slytherin's most notorious abilities.

HE: Of course! The Slytherin dorms are protected by a lock designed by the House's founder, operating in a way only he could crack.

HG: Aren't you at all concerned with this ability of yours?

HE: Hermione, it is what it is. Do you think I'm evil?

HG: Welllll...

HE: Seriously.

HG: No, of course not. I wouldn't elect you Minister, but I know your intentions are good. And I will be here to make sure you don't fall into the darkness.

HE: My hero.

HG: We could be wrong, you know. Maybe you are just bonkers.

HE hits HG in the face with her pillow.

Transcription ended



I'm going to sign off here, Harry. I need sleep. Something out there is trying to kill us, something snake-like that can petrify, and that's not even my primary concern. Whatever it is, someone is controlling it.

Sleep well.



Holly



A/N: "Deadly Waves of Stupidness" is a reference to an episode of the Nickelodeon cartoon Invader Zim called 'Plague of Babies'; no infringement is intended. Zim shall rule, but he was invented by Jhonen Vasquez.