Chapter 162

Ping!

Quest Success!

Convince Percy to let the students follow the Professors!

Reward,

1,000 Exp

Ping!

Skill has levelled up due to clever use!

Politics Lv- 3 (20%)

This is your ability to manoeuvre in political situations by methods of persuasion, blackmail, guile, and manipulation. The higher the level, the more chance of success!

(Lv of Lying + Lv of Bullshitting)% chance of success, less based on how extreme the motive is.

Harry waved away the screen, happy to get some quick exp and a level up to a pretty low-level skill. The fact that this counted as a political situation quite intrigued him as well.

When he refocused on Percy, he saw that the prefect was asking for something, "Did one of you catch what spot Filch was talking about?"

"The second floor Girl's bathroom!" a Hufflepuff answered loudly, and soon, the prefects opened the door, and the students headed out and up the Grand Staircase towards the second floor.

"Good one Harry!" Dean said, wading his way over to them through the crowd with Ron in tow.

"Yeah" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically, "I don't think I'd have ever thought that Percy would agree to disobey Professor Dumbledore's orders!"

"This Chamber business does seem pretty serious doesn't it? Any idea what it is?" Terry asked as Hermione looked on curiously.

Ron shrugged, "No idea mate. I only remember the name because Bill once told me a story about some sort of room that Slytherin built for himself."

'Room? A Founder's Room? Slytherin's Room?' Harry mused

Due to making a logical connection, take +1 Wis!

Harry waved away the screen, storing away that fact for later use and refocusing on his friends.

"Maybe the Slytherins have heard some more detailed version of the story or something? We should probably look it up in the library," Hermione suggested.

"Agreed," Harry said, looking at Hermione "Even if this is a false alarm or something, I reckon we should read up on some wizarding legends and stories. We've been focused too much on the academic aspect of things and not enough on the cultural side."

"Well, you can forget about this being a false alarm. Look!" whispered Dean from his other side.

Harry looked away from Hermione and towards what Dean was looking at.

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They let the crowd guide their path as they slowly approached the spot, where the teachers were standing around a sobbing kneeling Filch, some of them staring at the writing, some occasionally waving a wand at it.

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?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Terry almost slipped. There was a large puddle of water on the floor. Harry grabbed him and kept him on his feet as the entire group of hundreds of students slowly inched towards the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it.

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.

It was at that moment that Professor McGonagall finally noticed the massive group of students. "What are yo-"

"It's alright Minerva. Let them be," Professor Dumbledore said, saving the student body from the Transfiguration Professor's wrath. He gently detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket and laid her on the floor beside a blubbering Filch before kneeling down and prodding and poking the cat with his wand.

"Is she dead?" Ron whispered to Harry, but he might as well have said it out loud, for the whisper echoed loudly from one end of the hall to the other, clearly audible. Filch let out a loud moan of despair, making Ron wince.

"No she's not Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore gently said, pocketing his wand and standing up.

"She's not!?" Filch choked out, his voice almost pitifully dripping with hope, "Then why is she all…all frozen and stiff?"

"That…will require some more time to determine…Gilderoy, would you mind terribly if we were to use your office for a second?" the Headmaster asked the blond haired man, who, miraculously, hadn't said a word until now.

"Of course, Headmaster. Just upstairs…please feel free."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, "Come with me, Argus."

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore and so did Professors McGonagall and Snape, while the other Professors began herding back the students.

Dumbledore's voice suddenly echoed through the corridor again, "Mr. Potter, would you come with us please?"

Meeting his friends' confused looks with his own equally confused one, Harry shrugged, and pushed his way through the crowd and caught up with the group of Professors. He'd intended to stay back and Observe the entire scene, but apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

"Is there anything I can do Professor?" he asked the Headmaster, keeping up with his purposeful stride with a slight jog.

"Indeed Harry. We will talk after we reach the good Professor's office."

As they entered the darkened office, Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry sank into a chair outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, and seemed to have divided his time between staring at Harry and giving baleful glares in the direction of Lockhart, who was hovering around all of them, making suggestions and being generally irritating.

"It was definitely a curse that froze her up…probably the Vestigiatitis Torture Curse…I've seen it used many times. Turns the entire body vestigial…Very sad you see.

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry sobs as he lay slumped in a nearby chair, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands, muttering in between his sobs about how some students must have done this. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him.

Dumbledore was now muttering incantations in…

Ping!

Recommended Language: Swahili

Activate All Speak: Swahili?

YES/NO

Harry pressed yes, but there was little he could gather from the series of random and fast strings of words and incantations, so he deactivated it soon after.

Dumbledore continued muttering spells under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had undergone a process for taxidermy. Lockhart continued to ramble on about some nonsense as the photographs of himself on the walls all nodded in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to change out of its bathrobes.

At last, Dumbledore straightened up.

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore, "But how, I cannot say…which is why I need your assistance, Harry.

"And what could Mr. Potter possibly do to diagnose this mysterious ailment?" Professor McGonagall asked, eyeing Harry curiously.

"More than you think Minerva. Mr. Potter, could I possibly trouble you to call for your avian friend? I'm afraid Fawkes is indisposed at the moment." Dumbledore requested.

Eyeing the Professors in the room, Harry nodded, before he poured some mana into his voice, and called for his phoenix friend, "Hedwig!"

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